King's Throne(81)

Frederick opened the box and handed it to Mitch. He held it, acting as servant to the father who had lost his son much too soon. Without words, Frederick lifted the small patch of sparkling-white fur out of the box and held it aloft.
“I return him to you, Mother Goddess. Please be kind to my son. He was a brave and heroic warrior who gave his life for his sister and Clan.” The old king’s voice rang through the night, touching all who heard it.
Mitch remained silent, his heart breaking for the old king and the women who sobbed behind him. He felt the need to offer comfort.
“He is surely with the Goddess,” Mitch said in a quiet voice, meant for the king alone.
The old king nodded tightly, bowing his head as he watched the last little sparkling bit of his son. He held the patch of fur over the fissure in the earth and Mitch could clearly see the pool of magma below. They were standing over a crack in the earth on the side of the Grim. The Lady’s sacred mountain. And Mitch could feel Her presence.
“Lady bless him,” the old king whispered, releasing the small patch of fur to the fire below.
Mitch tried to watch the pelt as it combusted on the magma, but it caught fire with a blinding white light that erupted out of the fissure to take form on the other side of the crack in the earth, lighting the night sky with its radiance. When he could see again, he realized the light had taken the form of a young man. A young white tiger. Somehow, he could see both images superimposed on the manifestation. Was it a ghost? A spirit? Mitch didn’t know, but it smiled at them.
“Do not grieve for me, father. I will come again.” Young Fridrik’s face was calm and full of the eagerness of youth and the knowledge of the ancients. “I will come again. Sooner than you think. My work here is not yet done.”
The sound of his voice was touched with the Lady’s blessed chimes. He was a spirit—or maybe an avatar. Mitch didn’t know, but the young tiger’s words concerned him. It almost worried him that the Goddess was not yet done with them. But then again, who was he to question the will of the Lady?
Young Fridrik sent a smile toward his mother and sister. “Tell them both that I love them. I will always love them, and though I died to this existence, I will be back. The Lady I serve wills it.”
“Are you all right, my son? Are you safe? Are you happy?” the old king asked.
Fridrik looked at his father and smiled again. It was a beatific smile that Mitch would remember for the rest of his days.
“I am blessed. All those things and more, Father. I am a Knight of the Light. I serve the Lady and Her Light in every realm.”
The old king fell to his knees, his gaze on his son who glowed from within. Tears ran down his face.
“I’m so proud of you, my boy. So very proud and full of love. I am only sorry I will never get to know the man you would have become.”
“Not in this realm, perhaps—” glowing Fridrik tilted his head, “—but never say never. There are many realms beyond this one and I have been promised that if we all work very hard, we may yet be reunited in another time and place. For now, I leave you knowing that I am well and missing you, though my existence is not without purpose. My purpose in the mortal realm was to save my sister. Now I serve the Lady and She guides my purpose.”
Mitch could see the spirit was beginning to fade. Unless he was mistaken, Fridrik would be gone soon. The old king seemed to realize it as well.
“Then you are truly blessed. Be well, my son. I love you.” Tears ran unchecked down the old king’s face.
“I love you too, Father. Tell Mom and Gina…and the little one.” He looked at Mitch when he said the last and then he was gone. Only the light of the stars shone where he had been.
“Little one?” Mitch repeated, but the old king was too stunned to hear. Mitch helped Frederick to his feet and rejoined the women. They and all their people had witnessed a miracle on the mountain that night. It would take some time to process.
 
Some weeks later, the day of the ceremony dawned bright and clear. The mountain was quiet, but Mitch was pretty sure it would have a few rumbles to add to the celebration planned for that night. The ceremony would take place on the side of the volcano, but the party was being held in the village. The exact location of the stronghold would remain a secret known only to the most trusted friends and members of the tiger Clan.
The village had a big hall that had been decorated by the local people and accommodations had been set aside for a larger roster of guests than Mitch had expected. Apparently, all the big-cat shifter Clans had sent either their monarchs or representatives. It was turning out to be quite a little conclave, though they hadn’t planned it that way.