Lyer & Aluraios | Death
The flames licked the sky, painting further streaks of oranges over the bright sunset. Thick smoke fled upwards from the large pyre, covering the setting Goddess and Her rising consort in the veil through which the dead would pass through.
To one side of the fire, on the raised platform, her head bowed, Housemaid Lireta stood. In place of a wife, in place of a manservant, she was left with the duty of saying the final farewells. Next to her, Lord Marte Rorlan ~ Cormell, the new Mage-Lord of the Holm, stared in a mixture of shock and sadness into the darting flames, his displeasure at the breech of etiquette barely masked by the sorrow.
"I still don't understand..." He murmured to the Housemaid softly, one eye darting over the shadowy shapes in the heart of the fire.
He was still puzzled over the entire situation, Lord Dakram had died in his sleep two days ago, but his Housemaid - who really was getting old and needed replacing - had refused to let anyone take him to be prepared for his funeral. And Dakram's slightly younger personal Manservant had refused just as emphatically to his surprise.
But he had to admit, Ferel had been very efficient in preparing everything that could be readied without the Lord's body, even if it had been with an air of deep sadness that he'd carried around with him all day. The expectation that was mingled with the sorrow he'd thought was just a figment of his imagination.
When he and the local priest had been allowed, by Lireta, to collect Dakram's body, they had been surprised to be directed to the small chamber off Dakram's bedroom where Ferel slept. Then they'd seen the two bodies lying in silent slumber on the bed and stepped back in shock. Ferel's arms were around the Lord, holding him indecently close, and his lips were slack against Dakram's forehead.
The priest hadn't even blinked when Lireta requested they were burned together, regardless of his own objections. It was blatently obvious that Ferel was dirty, evil, by embracing his Lord in such a manner! Why did he get the honour of sharing Dakram's pyre? It was wrong! "...Surely Ferel should be buried in a manner more... suitable... for his actions?"
Shaking her head slightly, sending tears fizzing into the pyre, Lireta stepped forward, carefully picking up the end of a stick that rested in the flames, raising the burning end up as she moved into the crowd's sight. "Let me explain," her voice carried across the assembly. "I have only a little to say on the passings of Lord Dakram Forres and Ferel Ishrak. Lord Dakram was the best Lord I could have had the pleasure of serving. He listened to his servants, and responded to our needs, and explained himself. He, he was always ready to help anyone. Ferel would alway help, even when unwilling, especially with the washing," a choke of laughter forced its way out of the tears starting to fall across her cheeks, "he was so organised, and made my job so much easier."
She paused, watching the ash rising upwards on the air, twisting around, mingling in the evening light, "I know some of you are wondering why these two were placed on the same funeral pyre, I know the etiquette I have breached by doing this." she paused again, to gaze out at the crowd, before settling on the shadowy bodies, a small smile starting across her old face, "Dak, Ferel, may your love be as strong in death as it was in life."
Eyes widened in shock, and Marte took a few steps towards the Housemaid before the words fully registered. "What do you mean?"
"You know." Lireta murmured, then to the silent crowd, "Lord Dakram Forres, Ferel Ishrak, may the God hold you together and safe in the palm of his hand. I hearby resign as Housemaid ~ Cormell."
At her words, people surged forward to surround her angrily, but were forced back as the fire flared upwards. Turning towards the pyre, the shapes of two hawks became evident among the tips of the flames, before they coaleased into white and black birds who slowly drifted downwards out of the heat to land on the floor next to Lireta.
They regarded the crowd for a moment before a blurring wave grew up around them, and then two men flanked the housemaid. "Lireta," The black haired nodded couteously at the surprised woman, "did you really think we'd not come?" His gaze fell onto the fire and he bowed his head in respect.
The white-haired man's eyes were closed, trying to hold back the glittering of tears that ran under his lashes. "Goddess, Dak, Ferel..."
"Who are you?" Marte's voice broke the respectful silence that had grown up at the newcomer's arrival, "Who on God's way are you?"
"Major Lyer Rewtren ~ Myste ~ Ghovan and Major Fireborn Aluraios ~ Zephyr." The dark-haired man turned golden eyes onto the Mage-Lord. "We've come to pay our respects to our friends. I hope there's no objections." Keeping his eyes on Marte, Lyer reached round to take Aluraios's hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "You must be Lord Marte."
"How dare you..."
But Lyer wasn't listening any longer, with an apologetic glance at Lireta, he moved round to wrap his arms around his lover's waist from behind, resting his head on his shoulder. Bronze eyes warning the crowd against coming near, before he allowed his own tears to flow, supporting his sob-wracked partner.
"Dak... Ferel..." Aluraios's voice whispered painfully, watching the fire consume their friends. Taking a shuddering breath, he coaxed his emotions back into control, placing his hands over Lyer's. "Solar, should I?"
Lyer placed a gentle kiss on the sunperson's cheek, knowing that the motion sealed their banishment from Cormell Holm and probably Ioru for at least a hundred years. "Go ahead."
The fire flared up again suddenly as Aluraios's eyes fixed on it, burning with sudden violence and causing people to step back quickly from the heat. As the flames died, the smoke revealed the pyre was all but gone, leaving just ashes, which, with a nervous glance to the people on the platform, the priest gathered into a large container for spreading with the rising sun. As if that was a signal, the crowd started to dissipate in a frightened rush, trying not to attact the attention of the four.
Marte took another step forward, his face rigid with anger. "Who the hell are you?"
"Dak and Ferel's friends." Lyer answered softly, his eyes fixed on the heap being lifted to the container with a mixture of respect and fear. "Lireta, we're moving soon, but if you need a place to stay..."
The Housemaid nodded gratefully, "I'll accept that with pleasure, if you have room for me."
"As long as you don't mind the couch." She smiled slightly in relief at Aluraios's usual light-hearted tone, "We tend to take up the bed."
Lyer's grasp tightened on his partner, reassuringly feeling their mixed magics flowing between them, "Then it's settled. We brought an extra horse just in case you'd accept. They're in the woods."
"I want to stay for tomorrow."
Lireta nodded agreement at Aluraios, "I do too."
"My Lord Marte, have you still got the end rooms in the west wing free? The suite in the farthest corner?" Lyer asked, turning towards the red-faced Mage-Lord, who he estimated was about twenty and unequipped to argue with a four hundred year old vampire. "I know it's not usually used for visitors except during Court, and Ferel usually..." he stoped, taking a deep breath, "used to give it to us."
"It's free." Lireta answered for the silent Lord. "Not clean, but empty."
"Have I given anyone permission?" Matre exploded, "You haven't explained anything! I demand to know what is going on!"
"Lireta, stay with us. I don't want any, accidents, happening in anger." Lyer murmured before the woman could move towards the castle. "Myself and Aluraios have known Lord Dakram and Ferel for almost sixty years. We felt we should come to the funeral." At Marte's splutter of disbelief Lyer turned his gaze to the stars with a smile, "Finally, someone who's never heard of us. If you look in the most recent edition of History of Magic, under either vampires, or magical types, I'm sure you'll find a reference to Lyer Rewtren, and maybe by now, Aluraios Zephyr."
Marte's silent stare was startled as he looked over the smiling vampire. "Lyer... You're the one with..."
"Solar, can we go already? I'm not feeling too good after that display."
Lyer kissed the fireborn's neck softly, "Lord Marte, just let us stay for the service tomorrow and then we'll go." His voice lost its formality, fading to a sigh. "'Rios needs to rest, I need to feed, and we all need to mourn our loss."
"I don't get a choice do I?" Marte retorted angrily, his face reminiscent of a petulant child. "Then stay. But you are to go as soon as the service is over."
"Agreed willingly." the vampire murmured. "'Rios, if you take Lireta, I'll get the horses."
Marte stalked back to his Holm, and 'Rios and Lireta followed on slowly. As Lyer loped off towards the woods where they'd left their packs, they all sent glances of sadness back towards the patch of burnt grass, the glistening of tears in the twilight uniting them together in their sorrow.
© Clare Selley 2009
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