Once A Hero

by Michael A. Stackpole

  Breads and the like were also available, and quite good, but I understand less about their preparation. All I know about cooking bread involves mixing up a dough, scraping as much as possible off my fingers onto a flat rock, and trying to keep the fire around the rock going without getting too much charcoal in the bread. I think the Elves steam a lot of their bread, and I've heard talk of silver sun-ovens, but I was not overmuch concerned with pursuing more information about bread. Aarundel might have lived long enough to learn how to be a silversmith and a warrior, but I was too old to become a cook.

  The night before the wedding, Aarundel and Marta were brought together in seclusion within a new chamber in Woodspire. As they contemplated their lives together, I was taken by Lomthelgar to the grassy, bowllike depression where the ceremony would take place the next day. Trees gave way above it, allowing me a clear view of the starry sky. Without realizing I had been uncomfortable, I found seeing the sky set me more at ease. Being trapped within so many trees is difficult for someone raised in the mountains, where trees are sparse and summer is the season when mud lakes cloak themselves with a grass thatch.

  The elder Elf sank down on his haunches, and Shijef huddled behind him like a swollen shadow. "Vindicators guard this ground against violators."

  I nodded. "Tomorrow, I know, I dance. What else?" Lomthelgar gave me a lopsided grin. "Vindicate." I frowned as the Elf and the Dreel shared a chuckle. "I should have known you two would become allies. You are united by a common enemy—me."

  Both of them sobered. "Master you are, enemy you were."

  Lomthelgar patted the Dreel on the shoulder. "And you are my vindicator as well."

  "What?"

  The Elf stood and shook his head. "You are to be left alone here. Good evening, Custos Sylvanii."

  Lomthelgar led the Dreel from the circle, abandoning me at its heart. I dismissed their comments as mischief and nonsense and began to see to my duties as vindicator. I looked the area over by first walking the perimeter of the [heart], then working my way up along the edge of the amphitheatre. It might have started as a natural formation, but the Elves had clearly worked on it and had shaped it. From a military standpoint it was a disaster to defend, but in the heart of Cygestolia the likelihood of an invasion approached the likelihood of my ever setting foot again in Cygestolia after the wedding.

  Once I had satisfied myself with the military details of the situation, I sat at the upper edge of the amphitheatre, with my back to the woods, and other thoughts began to [come] to me. Because Larissa was for Marta what I was for Aarundel, we had been kept apart except for the pouring of the silver and the dancing. She had sent me flowers once by her grandfather, and I sent her back a garland I'd woven, using Shijef as my envoy, but that summed the total of our contact over that week.

  I did not know where she would be stationed as part of her duties, but I dearly wished she could be here with me. It was not that I felt lonely without her, but that I felt so much more complete in her presence.

  I began to wonder why Lomthelgar had brought us together to dance, yet kept one or the other of us blindfolded while we did so. I understood parts of it, of course. By seeing her I became used to the distraction of someone moving opposite me. Larissa's grace and elegance came as a marked contrast to the Dreel's shaggy, brutish movements, and in watching her I knew we would be very good at the ceremony.

  In dancing opposite her while blindfolded, I learned two things. The first was that I had to concentrate on the timing and remain locked in thrall to the rhythms. The torris, for me, was more deadly a game than even the visit to Jammaq. One slip, one accident, one gust of wind blowing one strand of her hair against the back of my hand, and I would be slain outright. Never before had I placed myself in a situation where the most innocent of errors could kill me. Any wavering from the discipline that Lomthelgar had taught me would doom me and the sylvanesti I loved.

  Blinded, I learned one other thing, and that realization made me wonder how much Lomthelgar knew about me and about his granddaughter. In challenging fate and death I was not alone, and in that most dangerous contest I had to trust absolutely and completely in my partner. Had I been asked if I would trust Larissa, if I could trust Larissa, I would have shouted my willingness to do so from Jammaq to the heart of the Haladin Outlands and back again. After the dance, though, I did not have to take her trustworthyness on faith; I knew, I had proof, that she would perform her part in our lethal dance perfectly.

  I am not normally a daydreamer, walking about all moon-eyed. It's not said to be good for one born under the Triangle, for the moons will stare back at such, but the rest of the night passed in contemplation of things past and present. I found myself wandering through memories that I would have liked to have shared with Larissa, and in their remembering I wondered if I hadn't already told her of them. If the feeling of contentment I experienced thinking about her approached what Aarundel knew when thinking of Marta, then I envied my friend even more than I had imagined.

  The night passed quickly and with the dawn's light Lomthelgar came and fetched me back to Woodspire. I ate a breakfast of pure water and plain bread, then slept a bit. After two or three hours of peace, the Dreel awakened me so I could wash. By the time I had cleansed myself and dried off, Lomthelgar finished laying out the clothes I would wear for the ceremony.

  My tunic and hose had been cut from soft, shiny silk and dyed the iridescent color of emeralds. The fabric's light weight made me think it would be cold, but the silk warmed against my flesh quite quickly. My leather jerkin, gloves, and boots had all been dyed a light grey, lighter than dusk but darker than curing-smoke. The boots came to my knee and the tops flopped down; the gloves came to midforearm. The leather garments had been a bit large, but sized themselves instantly, as had Aarundef's glove during my fight with Tashayul.

  Because I would be asked to dance, I removed Cleaveheart's scabbard from the belt I normally wore and affixed it to a longer belt that I looped diagonally over my torso. A second, more narrow belt threaded through the first at my left hip and buckled around my waist. The grand result of all this fussing was that Cleaveheart hung across my back, with the hilt jutting up above my right shoulder. Drawing it would be difficult, but I anticipated no trouble, so that did not concern me very much.

  The other reason I was not concerned about my ability to draw Cleaveheart was that in my role as vindicator I was to bear Aarundel's favorite weapon. The Dwarven battle-ax rose to the height of my shoulder when I placed the butt end on the ground, and the broad curved blade all but eclipsed my chest. The wickedly hooked raven's-beak on the opposite side of the head actually looked more cruel than the ax blade itself, but I knew the blade's razor edge could chop through armor and warrior easily and [erfi-]dently. The spike at the top of the weapon might have been considered overkill, but it made the ax also function as a lance, which was important in a cavalry company.

  Suitably attired, I followed Lomthelgar back to the amphitheatre and look my place at Aarundel's side. He wore black except at his throat, where an azure scarf had been knotted. He smiled when he saw me, then composed himself as gentle piping began from somewhere behind us.

  The amphitheatre had changed in the short time I had been away from it. A small wooden altar had been raised at one edge. Looking like a tree stump, the altar had been shaped so that the feet resembled roots, and aside from the impossibility of it, I wondered if it had been grown in that spot in the hours since my vigil had ended. On its flat, polished surface rested a red velvet pillow which bore both insignii nuptialis.

  Behind us, both on the flat and on the hillsides, many Elves had come to the celebration. All of them wore bright costumes, and I noticed, as I looked around, that the only green I saw in the whole place, aside from that which I wore, came in the few spots where the underlying grass peeked through the crowd. Paranoia over being the only person wearing green began to nibble at my mind, but I decided such thoughts were not part of my duty as vindicator, so I dismissed t
hem.

  The piping picked up in pace as the bride and her entourage entered the amphitheatre. They came up and over the berm at a point just barely on the far side of the altar. In the lead came an Elven priest I put at Thralan's age, though the white of his hair almost made me second-guess that estimate. Following him came Thralan and Ashenah, walking hand in hand. They wore black yet did not have blue to lighten the severity of their clothes. Still, the smiles on their faces left no doubt that they were very happy.

  In their wake came Sidalric and Marta's mother, Grationa. They did not walk hand in hand as parents, but her hand rested inside the crook of her father's elbow. Vincelan, Marta's father, had chosen to go excedere, which meant he was unable to attend his daughter's marriage. I did not have a clear understanding as to what it meant to go beyond, but his departure had been spoken of in a mixture of reverence and sadness that made me think it was not the same as being dead, but close.

  Aarundel's parents came over and stood behind us, and Marta's people stood opposite them. The piping stopped, then started again with a more sedate tune and I felt the attention of those gathered in the amphitheatre swell. Coming up over the crest of the hill, Larissa appeared in silhouette for a moment; then she started her descent. As did I, she wore emerald-green chased with black and looked utterly ravishing. I felt a jolt run through me as our gazes met, and relief as we both looked away—she gazing toward her brother while I glanced back up the hill to where Marta stood.

  Aarundel's sharp intake of breath put into sound what I felt as I saw Marta descend the hill. Wearing an azure gown the same color as the scarf around Aarundel's neck, she strode forward with grace and a regal bearing. A black scarf trailed behind her as if a pennoncel proclaiming her link with Aarundel—though of that there was little doubt, She radiated happiness and love so brightly, and Aarundel reflected it so completely, that had I been standing between them, I felt certain I would have burst into flames. Everyone else seemed to sense the heat and the power of their vitamor as well, for the whole community was drawn together like a thirsty herd of antelope around a cool, clear lake.

  The priest at the altar raised his hands and laboriously spoke in Mantongue. "As a community we come here to recognize and celebrate the union of this Aarundel and this Marta." Shifting to the Sylvan language, he spoke again, likely repeating much of what he had already said, but filling it in with ceremonial words that made the bride and groom smile.

  The priest looked beyond them to Aarundel's parents. "Is this your son, free of obligations to another?" They nodded, and he turned his attention to Marta's mother and grandfather. He spoke to them in Elven—his foray into Mantongue only for my benefit. When he received a similar nod of assent, he spoke to Larissa, and she gave him short answers that prompted Aarundel and Marta to look at each other and blush.

  The priest focused on me. "Neal of the Roclaws, vindicator, is this Aarundel known to you?"

  "He is."

  "Is he free of obligations and committed to this union?"

  "He is."

  "And has this place remained inviolate through the night?"

  "It has."

  My replies seemed to satisfy him, so he pushed on through the ceremony. At points he lapsed into Mantongue, and given the selection of things he allowed me to hear, he wanted me to understand both the sanctity of the situation and the incredibly long tradition of which I had been made a part. This consisted mostly of theological recountings, many of which I had heard before in slightly different forms, but with an emphasis on why Elves were greatly superior to Men.

  "In the time before all time, Levicius and Alosia, the sky and the earth, became aware of each other. In this awareness came knowledge of their divinity, and in their wisdom they created the Dwarves to shape the world and the Elves to shape all that existed within the world. All that their creations brought forth were manifestations of their love for each other. Lest the world and their love become stale, they also brought forth another race, those who now claim the mantle Reithrese, to husband the elemental forces of Chaos, to inflict change upon their world so that it could change and grow and become more perfect.

  "In time, through the pleasure of their creation, Levicius and Alosia chose to share their world with children born of them, not created by them. Kyori and Jistan came first, then Bok, Chavameht and Herin. Last came Reithra, who, in her jealousy against her mother over the love of her father, shaped her hatred into death. Thus began the first rebellion.

  "Kyori and Jistan fought on behalf of their parents and won a truce with their siblings that forced Levicius and Alosia to go beyond. In the war of the gods, the Elves had defended the gods who had created them, and in that defense won the right to attend their creators in exile. The Dwarves, who remained neutral, were not touched by Death in the fullest first blush of its power, so now elude it still. The Reithrese embraced it and now it defines them."

  Never before had I heard names put to the parents of the gods, and the antiquity of the Sylvan Nation made itself manifest in the Elves's knowledge of those who had birthed the gods that now ruled the world. The timing of the creation of the Reithrese also explained some of the animosity between them and the Elves. To the Elves they were created later, making them inferior. The Reithrese must have held that because they were created to change that over which Elves and Dwarves had been given dominion, they were the superior people. Their subordination in service to a lesser goddess meant nothing from their twisted point of view, I was certain.

  Speaking in Mantongue again, and addressing only me, the priest continued. "Kyori and Jistan married and saw among their siblings the seeds of strife. In their wisdom they created Men and gave them to the others to use as soldiers so wars that could be fought on Skirren would not be fought in the heavens. Bok created the Dreel as his playthings, the Dwarves chose Herin as their patron, and Chavameht took pity upon the beasts, leaving only the Elves true to the first gods and above that which had been born in or through the Rebellion."

  Feeling firmly fixed in the Elven cosmology down with snakes, slugs, and the occasional Dreel, I forced a smile on my face. It was not the first time I had seen a priest use a ceremony and his position to correct an evil in the world, though it was the first time I had been singled out as that evil. The smile at first felt wooden, but more life poured into it as I figured that if he didn't like my presence at the ceremony, he was absolutely going to hate the torris. After all, co-opt my friend's wedding day for your purposes, and you deserve all the pain you can get.

  Having decided I was chastened or an idiot or both, the priest ignored me. For the rest of the ceremony he spoke only in Elven, but with his hand motions and the cadence of his words I could tell he was reciting prayers and formulas designed to bring Aarundel and Marta together. At appropriate moments each of them stepped closer to the altar and each other until they stood side by side in front of the priest.

  Aarundel lifted his wedding token and slipped the ring over the middle finger on Malta's right hand. She did the same thing to him, then they clasped hands and let the bracelets clang against each other. Larissa came forward and grasped the armlet dangling from her brother's ring, and in imitation of her I started forward, but Lomthelgar held me back and took my place. I stiffened for a moment, then realized how closely I had come to destroying Aarundel's happiness on his wedding day.

  In unison Lomthelgar and Larissa slipped the armlets in place, and a great cheer went up from among the Elves gathered there. Lomthelgar smiled knowingly at me as he retreated. "You spoke as my voice, I worked as your hands."

  Aarundel gently enfolded his wife in a hug and kissed her deeply. I watched, not out of any voyeuristic fantasy, but because I could not bring myself to look past them at Larissa. I wanted to, but I knew I had to refuse. If I gave in, I knew I could lose myself in her, and that would shatter the composure I needed for the torris. Without it I might do to her what I almost did to Marta.

  Around us the amphitheatre came alive. Some of the people
filed away while others moved down to the flat and spread out blankets. They seated themselves on the ground while Aarundel's family retainers moved among them presenting pitchers of wine, bowls of vegetable stew, and small loaves of soft-crusted bread. All of the guests accepted the food with thanks, it appeared, but they did not partake of it immediately.

  Before the altar, retainers lay down a huge black silk sheet. The bride and groom centered themselves on it; then four smaller sheets in azure were set to cover each corner of the black diamond. Larissa and I were pointed to the sheets on either side of the couple, while the four parents sat behind them. No one sat on the sheet in front of them, and I assumed that was to symbolize children, or perhaps in the case of a second or third marriage, the children from previous unions would occupy that place of honor.

  The bride and groom were served last, and I wished they would take a drink of their wine, because my nervousness had me bone-mouthed. I waited patiently for them to act; then I felt Lomthelgar's hand on my shoulder, "Before they will begin the celebration, you must dance."

  I nodded. "You'll be proud."

  The elder Elf smiled. "The dance is everything. As it goes, so will go their life together."

  I felt a shock as he said that; then I nodded and steeled myself to do the best I could. I already knew I was prepared for the dance. I had trained enough that I could perform it blindfolded. If my torris would predict the future of their marriage, I would make it perfect.

  Leaving the ax in its place, but still wearing Cleaveheart over my shoulder, I stood and walked around the sheets until I stopped directly in front of the bride and groom. I bowed to them, then turned to the left and bowed toward my partner. Squaring around again, I smiled at Aarundel, then executed an about-face and paced away from him and his bride until I stood two steps beyond the center of the circle on the flat ringed with Elves. I did not look back, because I knew Larissa would be similarly bowing to her brother and his wife, then moving to take her place opposite me. Back to back, though separated by a Man-length, we were together to dance for my friends and her kin.