“Well, I dunno about a whole army…” A gruff voice said from the shadows on Bannor’s right.
One at a time, burly Tal Falor, blocky Algernon, and reedy T’Gor faded in as they jumped down of the rocks surrounding the preparation area. All three were dressed in fine silk party clothes but wearing outdoor hunting boots.
“Hey,” Bannor greeted. He started to get up and one of the girls working on him squeaked. Chastened, he leaned back again. “Apologies, sorry about not getting up.”
“We’re good,” Algernon said in a gravelly voice. He grinned. “All three of us have done that marrying thing—we know how it is.”
“Lords,” Ryelle said with a bow of her head. “We greet you.”
All three warriors dipped their heads in deference to the first princess.
“Lord D’Tarin, Lord D’Shar, how was it?”
Algernon rubbed the back of his neck. He looked to Bannor. “Well, it’s interesting…”
Tal thumped the shorter man on the shoulder. “What he means to say is we got ya covered. It ain’t no problem.”
“Lord Falor, there can be no shedding of elf blood,” Ryelle said with a frown. “Any punitive action of a serious nature must be carried out by Malanian assigns.”
Tal held up his hands. “Yeah, yeah, we understand.”
T’Gor’s deep voice made Bannor’s skin prickle. “We observed several operatives who are not on your father’s trusted list. We found evidence of quite a number more that we did not immediately locate.”
“We feared that would be the case,” Ryelle said, fingering her lower lip. “For now, report your findings to Lady Senalloy, she will assign Nightslash operatives to keep Our shy guests company. Gentlemen, We thank you for your time, please enjoy the rest of the ceremony.”
The three lords bowed, waved to Bannor and faded back into the shadows.
“As you see,” Ryelle said to him. “We are adequately prepared.”
“That’s quite some preparation,” Bannor said with wide eyes.
“It doesn’t hurt that you are well liked and a friend of Wren’s,” the princess said. “I have one other admonition. I know mother has already told you this, but it doesn’t hurt to remind you. Do not communicate with Sarai prior to the finishing of the aria, even with telepathy. Speak to her only with your eyes and heart. Understand?”
He sighed. “I understand.”
“It is a tradition, but regardless of our special abilities we should honor it. To use telepathy would be terribly tempting and with your shaladens nobody would know.” She leaned forward. “Except us in the family.”
“Yes, Arminwen,” he acknowledged.
“Once you have joined hands on the center stage, then you may converse as you can. It won’t be that long now.” She closed her eyes briefly then focused bright eyes on him and smiled. “I look forward to calling you ‘brother’.”
He smiled and nodded.
“Well, we both have our parts to play, let us at them. The artisans seem done with you.”
He glanced to maids who had stopped fussing with him. He rose and offered and a hand to Ryelle and eased her to a stand. She nodded to him and swept away, maids scrambling with her cloak and trailers.
Bannor drew a breath and adjusted the formal caan-sword and dan-sword sheaths, tying them down and loosening the weapons in their sheaths and making sure the peace strings were tied.
Two pale-haired maids came over and held up the embroidered ‘courting’ cloak with its white fur ruff and ruby clasps. He pulled it on and let them finish adjusting the set of the shoulders and brushing out the fabric.
His heart drummed fast in his chest. He saw the honor guard taking their place at the glade-side exit of the noble’s alcove.
He looked around. The six elf maids and stewards who had done the final preparations were standing in a line watching him. As with many of the staff serving the T’Evagdurans, they had done their work with efficient precision, hardly saying a word.
“Thank you,” he bowed to them.
There was light in their eyes as they all bowed back smiling.
He turned toward the opening in the trees and the light coming from the Glade of Joining. With another few breaths to gather his resolve, he pushed toward the light…
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* * *
Chapter Forty-One
A simple wedding? Impossible. My life
simply isn’t geared that way. A war with a
wedding attached—yes, that sounds about
how my fortunes run…
—Bannor Nalthane Starfist,
Prince Conjugal of Malan
The honor guard peeled away into the trees on either side as Bannor stepped up onto the rock overlooking the Glade of Joining. He hadn’t been in the sun for more than a heartbeat and he already felt hot. A single fading rainbow hung in the brilliant blue sky, the sun shining strong and radiant through a thin sheaf of wispy clouds. Magical shade casters hovered overhead like brilliantly colored soap bubbles, distorted images of the crowd below them swirling and dancing on their reflective surfaces. His gaze dropped, taking in the thousands of seated and standing guests. The three hundred pace wide area appeared nearly full. He blinked and looked again. It felt like his chest was trapped in a vice.
So many people.
He cringed as somewhere in the trees behind him horns began blasting out the strains of Greeting to Sunshine. His skin crawled as he felt what seemed like million eyes focusing on him. He heard breaths being drawn, men muttering and ladies tittering and sighing. The saliva in his mouth felt like it turned to mud. It was as if the reaper’s bony hand had clutched his throat. He closed his eyes and turned his face toward the sun. He focused on the rise and fall of the instruments. There were a few instants to gather his composure and not muck up the opening recitation.
Pressing his hands together, he drew a long breath, pushing all of his nervous energy down into the pit of his stomach. He pulled his hands to his sides and exhaled, letting the mind poison drift away on the wind.
He opened his eyes and looked through the crowd to the empty stone stage on the far side of the glade. He reached a hand out toward the memory of his love. He focused on the old Dykreeni dialect, letting the phrasing and intonation bubble up through his consciousness.
From deep in his chest he projected the words with all his strength. “Uhn berah tu’ravad ishand e cajar! (From deep in my heart she calls)” He dropped to his knees and called out across the distance. He focused on the words letting them flow out of him. “The clouds are my mind and the wind my breath. The longing grips me and my blood burns like storm fire!”
The word ‘fire’ echoed across the glade making the ground quiver and the stone cliff face resonate. The crowd had gone quiet, their attention focused by the performance magicks magnifying the sound of his voice.
Horns and pipes resonated from different parts of the forest around the clearing. While they played the bridging music he gathered his strength for the next stanza. Laramis had moved out of the trees and now stood at the base of rock.
As the pipes trailed off, he pushed to stand and swirled his cloak left and right. “Her vision runs elusive, my requests for audience resonating through hill and dale. From the ocean’s side to the river head, on the mountain’s peak and the far deep chasm, my calls go out. Oh maiden, oh heart, where should I seek thee?” He vaulted off the rock, doing a spinning flip before landing with a flourish.
His heart was pounding, but he felt good. He hadn’t botched the poem yet. The crowd was murmuring. He had thrown in the acrobatic maneuver figuring all that time practicing with Vera shouldn’t go to waste.
The pipes in the trees picked up again and were joined by drums and chimes. As the bridging music played he caught his breath. He glanced back at Laramis. The justicar grinned and nodded.
The music faded and he turned, flourishing the cloak, and continued into the next stanza. Arabella had spent many bells coaching him. The bard
had explained that the whole ceremony was a performance no different than any stage play. In fact, she had added, since this particular wedding was being recorded, an extra special production was merited.
He paced back and forth on his side of the clearing, the ‘prince-to-be’ musing and conferring with his second. During this part, Laramis had lines as the suitor and his second played off each other, speculating and reminiscing as they sought the cloistered princess. Laramis was a natural actor, and already a practiced public speaker. For someone who spoke only broken elvish, he had rehearsed until every line sounded clear and natural, his strong voice needing little enhancement to carry across the crowd.
The last strains of the concluding bridge faded out and bells started ringing from behind the stone stage. Bannor drew a breath, taking the opportunity to gather his energy. He had rehearsed this performance of course, but it took so much more energy to do it front of such a huge crowd.
The audience murmured as, harps in hand, Ryelle and Janai swayed out onto the stage, taking seats at opposite sides of the main platform. The bells faded and the two princesses strummed in the refrains of the entrance melody.
Bannor held his breath waiting to catch a glimpse of Sarai. He wished he was standing closer—a lot closer. They had to walk the edges of the glade before he would be close enough to really see her face. He guessed that was part of the ceremony—the anticipation not only for the audience but for the bride and groom as well.
The King, now dressed in the flowing robes of state, ascended the stone steps rising into view with stately grace. He stood at the top step and took the Queen’s hand as she climbed to the stage.
Arm in arm, they made a circuit of the platform bowing to the audience. As they looped back toward the stairs they paused at the steps.
His heart jumped as bells played and horns sounded. Janai and Ryelle played as a shadowy figure ascended the steps. Slowly rising into view was a white clad figure, silvery hair and gossamer trails fluttering in the breeze.
He couldn’t make out any details but he could tell she was beautiful. His skin prickled as the King and Queen each took a hand a led her out and down the center wing that extended out from the main stage.
Even twenty paces closer didn’t reveal much more, but his heart pounded anyway. They had come so far. They had performed on the stage of life, and were now performing for friends, family and kingdom to celebrate the unbreakable bonds that now tied them together.
Bannor waited to hear her voice, ears straining against the murmuring of the crowd.
“Breath caught and heart stumbling, I have heard the call of my One!” Sarai pronounced in the formal Dykreen to her mother. She did a slow turn and faced her father. “Long am I sheltered by your love, let me seek that which is part of me!”
The King and Queen bowed their heads and retreated to the main platform to sit on the thrones prepared there. Now was Sarai’s time to perform as the hidden princess sought a means to be rejoined with her suitor. Much like his soliloquy there was some musing and fanciful metaphor. Ryelle performed with her in much the same fashion as Laramis had with him as the princess sought clues of where to search.
Janai rose from her seat and began plucking at her harp, chirping bits of lyrics in different elvish dialects. As she drew closer to the seeking princess, the words grew louder and stronger lauding the lost lover in search of his princess by river of dawning.
The princess leans toward the singing bard harkening to the words, and rushing out toward the audience in realization.
Six maids in waiting, dressed flowing blue crossed the stage and escorted Sarai down to the field level to carry the trailers of her cloak and gown. Horns played and bells chimed.
Face to the sky Sarai called out in the high elven speech. “Oh seeker, now you are being sought, please let these words find your hearing…”
Now began the ‘coming closer’. The suitor’s second brings word to his master that cloistered princess has heard the call, and that she now comes to join him. He started the long walk around the glade that would bring him to the stage. Bannor tried not to look directly into the crowd, he was certain if he did he would freeze. Even with his gaze fixed a little over the heads of audience he picked up some detail. Noble elves dressed in their finest silks and satins, a scattering of humans and dwarves equally well attired. He saw none of his friends, but that was to be expected as most would be up front near the stage.
Sarai had moved out of sight behind the masses of people. Where they started the wedding, the suitor’s rock and the stage, those areas stood some five paces above the middle of the field. Now, the only way he could really tell her position was from the magnified sound of her voice as she recited the next line from her part. In the ‘coming closer’ their words now represented letters that the lovers exchanged as they traveled toward the holy mount where their joining would be blessed.
Though he was focused on the performance, Bannor felt eyes on him from the trees. He tried not to let it distract him, trusting in the power of his friends. Sarai would deliver her part and he gave the answering part.
Despite Janai’s ointments, he felt perspiration beading on his skin. He concentrated hard, pushing through the growing sense of menace that he felt on his right among the trees. Laramis obviously sensed it as well. The justicar’s hand was already on the hilt of the dress sword on his side with the peace strings released. He stepped so as to act as shield between Bannor and the trees.
Did the opponents of the T’Evagdurans see him as that much of a threat that they would openly attack him here in front of so many? Did it really have anything to do with him at all? Was it merely that he was not an elf?
By the time he had reached the half way point around the circle, his shoulders felt like knots from the tension. He could focus on his task but it was impossible to relax not knowing what would happen.
At this point, Sarai would be doubling back toward the stage where they would eventually climb up to the runways that extended out to the right and left. Then they would go into the aria.
Singing. Lords, who ever would have thought he would sing—much less in front of this huge mass of onlookers?
Even over the noise of the crowd and the rustle of the trees he heard the out of place metallic clicks. He couldn’t help but tense and brace to move. Instants later, he heard the unmistakable thrum of crossbows.
Laramis, no less alert than him, had his sword pulled half sheath when several bolts clanked and rasped as they hit an invisible obstruction some ten paces away.
There was scuffle down in the trees that abruptly went quiet.
The menace he had been feeling was gone.
He heard Laramis sigh and push the sword back. He had only that one instant to recover before raising his voice to deliver the next stanza of the poem.
No further problems intruded on his consciousness as he finally reached the stage wing. To release the pent up energy jagging through his body he leaped up caught the edge and flipped to his feet in the middle of the runway. He did a flourish with the cloak to finish the move and make it look like part of the ceremony.
This caused a ripple of murmuring through the audience. On this side he saw faces he recognized among those seated in the first five rows, members of the Felspar family, and some of his new friends among the Shael Dal.
Laramis came up the stairs wearing a sheepish grin. Bannor felt a cold shiver and looked toward the Queen. She was smiling, but her eyes were narrowed in a glare. The King seemed amused, as did Ryelle and Janai.
His gaze went to the opposite wing as Sarai rose into view. His heart seemed to stop in his chest.
From a distance, Sarai’s gown had looked white but he realized it was actually a pale blue. White jewels sewn into cloth seemed to diffuse the sun’s light making a subtle glow shine through the various layers of the cloth. The reflections made her skin and hair look as though highlighted in gold. She was still too far away to make out her face clearly, but he could see conside
rable time had been spent on her hair adding jewels, braiding, and ribbon.
His wife-to-be stood on the stage, not moving, face turned toward him. He could tell she was studying him the same way he was looking at her. As he paused here, he thought of all the other couples who had done just as they were doing. Gazes locked across the distance, close enough to see, but too far to do more than imagine each other’s emotions.
The maids that had followed Sarai down onto the field filed up the steps and took positions equally spaced up the run way toward the main stage. When the ladies had taken their positions, Sarai dipped her head and pressed her hands together.
As Bannor knew, singing came no more naturally to her than it did to him. Just the same, he found her voice to be as attractive as the rest of her. Arabella had coached him to the point he didn’t sound like an embarrassment. The lady bard told him he had a good voice that would perform well given the right song. Sarai even said she liked his singing. He knew she was saying that to encourage him.
Sarai drew a breath and raised her head. Her voice clear and powerful. “Far, far away heart…” As Sarai sang, she moved down the runway toward the center platform, drawing the maids in behind her.
He closed his eyes listening to words, nodding as the strings and drums from behind the stage joined in. Hearing her voice made Bannor tingle inside. No matter what he had been through, this beautiful, strong, talented lady was worth every bit of it and more.
Her song ended, and the drums pounded into the groom’s part. He opened his eyes, finding his love a little closer, a little clearer, standing on the far side of the central dais. He drew a breath and threw himself into his part. “Hearing… Dreaming… Longing draws me down the road…”
As he sang, his words echoing out over the audience he watched Sarai. As he had done when she was singing, she had her eyes closed. She was swaying slightly in time to the rhythm.
Reality's Plaything 5: The Infinity Annihilator Page 73
