VIII. WITH A THOUSAND WORDS TO SAY BUT ONE

  The temple of Dawn in Marquez was a massive circular structure, supported by eight buttresses attached to eight towers topped with great spires and finials. The outside was cold, grey stone and statuary, otherwise lacking the typical opulence of a Temple of Dawn, the original architects not wanting it to rival the royal palace. Inside however, everything was inlaid with gold and mother of pearl. A great oculus in the dome filtered light through diamonds, casting rainbows to fill the temple at the height of the day. The seating was arranged like an amphitheater, with a choir loft behind the stage and an orchestral pit before it. Twice a month, when services convened, it would be packed with citizens in their very best dress come to see scenes from the Book of the Dawn acted out and hear the closest thing to Eloi’s song one could in this life. Though it was a charged event, every class attended, and the church did make sure to feed and water its flock.

  On this day however, the rotunda was littered with white flowers not yet in season outside the palace greenhouses and the thick smoke from hundreds of incenses. Knights in ceremonial armor stood at attention, ringing the stage. The entire court of Marquez filled the stands, a gaudy display of high fashion and society. Those not part of the court but with enough cash to purchase a ticket sat in the highest, furthest away rows of seating, at a vantage where it was difficult to discern who was who upon the stage. Those citizens didn’t purchase the seats to necessarily see the wedding though; it was more of a show that they could afford to attend. This event would be the talk of the town for years to come; they paid a fortune for a gilded parchment program saying that they were in fact present.

  Men walked around with glowing bulbs upon headbands, and a flat, milky stone pressed to their temples. These were the chroniclers of the day’s festivities; they would sell their memories of the day’s events. They could be used by citizens unable to afford seating or sent to relatives of the groom who were likely unaware that the wedding was even taking place. Odell had sent the perfunctory invitations to his kin in Barrington Hills, though whether or not they’d received them was another issue entirely. Since Sorn was an impassable route, all mail was sent by ship, sailing from Port of Romance south around Rhode and into either Elysia or further into the sea to Briartach. Then there was the issue of whether his friends and family were even literate to read the invites and notices.

  Aichlan was again dressed in his formal garb of The Order, a pseudo monk’s habit crossed with a knight’s surcoat. It was white with pastel blue trim and the symbol of The Dawn upon the back. His Colby-Nau officers wore their idea of formal wear, a collar attached to sleeves for males and a similar kit with brassiere for the women. A few had conceded to wearing boots, others compromised with sandals. Though they weren’t themselves married, Ashe sat beside him unveiled in the first row with the other married lords and ladies. She had forsaken her cloak for the occasion, taking to wearing a soft velvet one of crimson over a beige silk chiton in its stead. All single men were kept on one side, all single ladies were veiled in a sheer fabric with their hair done up in a bun or buns and kept to the opposite side. The origins of this practice were unknown to Aichlan and were unique to Duvachellé. In his own kingdom of Aes Sidhe, guests were partitioned based upon their relationship to either the bride or groom. Though there were no veils, the use of bonnets and hairstyles to discern the maidens from old maids was common.

  The guests of honor held seats upon the stage, flanking the table where the ceremony would be completed. Both Maleah and Taryn were veiled, and surprisingly sober. They were joined by Aislyn’s confidantes and a woman who was her nurse as a child. Opposite them were the males that were close to her father’s court. Rassvette sat among them as well and was the only member of The Order.

  Madden stood a bit awkwardly by the table, he wore a suit that actually fit, though was still tightly pressed to his muscular body. At his hip was a sword, as was customary for best men. Aichlan recalled with a smile the hours he had wasted trying to teach the hulk how to fence. The role was purely ceremonial, should some rejected suitor or otherwise malcontent find issue with the groom and seek to challenge or assassinate him. No blood can be spilled by the groom on his wedding day as it bodes for a rocky if not violent marriage. Hence the best man, the groom's most trusted and loyal friend to step in and fight the battle for him, and possibly die for him. It was a quaint tradition, though Aichlan couldn’t recall when it had actually been necessary. Then again, Aichlan didn’t exactly follow weddings and gossip as some others might. He suddenly thought of Alice and wondered where she would have been seated.

  The orchestra began to play, a song dominated by strings and woodwinds to channel the essence of the coming dawn. A procession of Nuns slowly made their way in, chanting a sweet hymn. A chime was struck in time with their left footfalls. A snare drum began a slow cadence as Clarissa made her way slowly towards the stage; she wore the heavy robes of her station, white silk with red trim. She had a silver circlet upon her brow and a basket of incense hung from a chain in her hand. She swung the basket like a pendulum, spreading the smoke with each methodical step. The knights before her stepped aside and presented arms as the others ringing the stage knelt and bowed their heads. Clarissa paused to draw The Symbol of Dawn upon the two closets knights before she continued towards the altar.

  The tempo rose to symbolize the sun breaking free of the horizon and more drums entered along with several horns. Clarissa placed the basket on the altar and held out her hand. A nun rushed to her side and handed her two slender candles and their holders. The nun bowed in retreat as another approached and handed her a large ball of wax with a wick sticking out of it. Clarissa nestled the ball atop the incense basket between the two candles. Once finished, she made her way to a seat behind the altar upon a dais; the nuns showered the altar with flower petals as they made their way back whence they came.

  The music reached its flurried end and abruptly stopped, transitioning into the Marquez Royal anthem. All present rose to their feet, and the knights raised their swords to the heavens. Aislyn began her journey towards the stage flanked by two maidens and led by Lucien. Aichlan frowned in disgust, wondering how it was that that man got the honor to preside over the wedding of royalty. Her dress was white silk adorned with pearls, great white feathers rose up from the high collar that was as tall as the neckline was deep. The gown was sleeveless and she wore arm length white gloves, the train was carried by four maidens, oddly shorter than the one she wore to dinner the previous night. Her hair was pinned up with chains of gold and jewels hanging from the bun. They reached the altar and waited for the anthem to end, at which point the knights lowered their swords and everyone took a seat.

  There was silence for several moments as the sheets were changed and the Aes Sidhean anthem was played with some difficulty, the orchestra had no one playing the bag-pipes for one, and the fiddler was playing as a violinist. Aichlan glanced around, he, Ashe and a few others were the only ones standing. Obviously, one was Alice, but there was also a man way up in the back that stood. Surely it wasn’t… Aichlan was broken from his thoughts as Odell entered, escorted by Maddens Rangers and a squad of Taryn's archers. He wore the fur mantle of a king, doublet and heeled boots.

  In Marquez tradition, he wore superfluous jewelry; the only notable absence was his crown as the coronation ceremony was set for another date. His escorts were also decked out in the finest; they actually looked like a real and respectable military force. They halted as Odell passed between the two knights guarding the aisle, Madden jogged down to meet him and bowed before taking over the escort detail.

  The music ended without much cohesion, and those of the mariner state took their seats once more, content to gripe once the ceremony was ended. Lucien cleared his throat as Madden took his place to the right of Odell, facing the audience. Odell and Aislyn shared stolen glances and poorly hidden smiles as a young boy carried the torch to the altar. The boy knelt before Lucien and offered up the torch to him. Odell held out his hand and Aislyn shyly slipped her own into his grasp. Lucien watched with disapproval at the break in ceremony etiquette, but said nothing, taking the torch and dismissing the boy.

  “Friends, family, countrymen and women; we art gathered here on this day to bear witness to the completion of two errant souls. Souls separated at Dusk, who now find themselves as one again in Dawn. To such a union we should all aspire, let us give thanks to the heavens and join in celebrating this bond found during the prime of these two young lives.”

  “Amplecti ferat lux domum et invenies requiem faciat tibi sit aedificare et pacem diligite.” The audience chanted in response.

  Lucien turned and lit the candle closest to Aislyn. “Daughter of our native soil, having found your missing half, will thou join with this soul to seek eternity together upon the Elysium Fields?”

  “Yes, I do take this soul to be my completed self, by light of Dawn.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Lucien handed her candle to her and lit Odell’s with the torch. “Son of the Mariner state, having found your missing half, will thou join with this soul to seek eternity together upon the Elysium Fields?”

  “Aye, I take this soul to be my completed self. Er, by light o’ Dawn.”

  Lucien’s forced crooked smile did not hide his disgust at the boy’s common tongued answer as he handed him his candle. “Let these flames, weak and soon to fail, represent your spirits as they now are.” He gestured to the ball of wax atop the still smoking incense. “Alone, you lack the power to light this beacon, but together you shall see its true majesty.”

  Odell looked to Aislyn for direction; she smiled and guided his candle with hers to the ball. They touched the flames to the wick and it caught with a brief conflagration, the ball being almost entirely made of an accelerant. Their candles quickly flickered out as the short wick was burnt away. The ball, however, erupted into a flaming orb; causing Odell to leap back with a start.

  “Thou that hath come as two, now leave this place as one. Be there blessings upon thy home and thy bed.”

  The knights raised their arms once more as the newlywed couple turned to face the audience, who stood in applause. The music began again, playing a sprightly marriage song as Madden took position ahead of the couple to lead them back to the palace. The bishop followed, then Clarissa and her procession of nuns, the guests of honor flanked by Odell’s escorts went next and finally the guests in the audience would follow the marriage procession through the streets of Marquez. From there the weeklong festivities would commence.

* * *

  Every room in the palace was lit as competing bands filled the halls and streets below with discordant song, from pipes and strings to wailing drunks. Aichlan stumbled into what he thought was an empty parlour and promptly collapsed into a chair. He closed his eyes, keeping one foot planted firmly on the ground, in hopes to ease the spinning of the room.

  “Drank too much did ye?”

  Aichlan glanced out from under his hand to the red-haired elf woman that sat on the other side of the room. She looked familiar, though he could not place where he had seen her. Her orange-brown eyes reminded him of autumn, and her face was delicate yet refined. If she didn’t speak, one could mistake her for nobility, or one of the high Elves of the forest. She smoked a long pipe as she held a book in one hand. The flowing chiton she wore was a deep burnt umber hue paired with a tri-colored himation of red, yellow, and brown ocher. Her tattoos and jewelry were more subdued than some of the other’s, but her garb, from his understanding, was that of a council member or aristocrat.

  The woman blew a ring of violet smoke. “Sip a watered beer if ye wanna ease yerself off o’ it.”

  “Thanks,” Aichlan grunted as he slid out a burp that threatened to be more. “I jus’ need to rest a bit.”

  “That might be best.” She laughed. “Just stay here till the world stops spinnin’ though, I puked in Ashe’s bed once an’ she never let me live it down.”

  “You know Ashe?”

  The woman laughed again. “Aye, I know her, I know you too. A bit sour ye daen’t remember if I’m honest.”

  “I’m sorry,” Aichlan slurred, “It’s been a long…life.”

  The woman chuckled and blew out a cloud of violet smoke. “Ok, ye’ll get a pass for that. Hratchouhi, we met briefly when you petitioned the council.”

  “Oh.” Aichlan grimaced as an unpleasant tasting belch passed his lips. “Those fuckers.”

  Hratchouhi flipped the page and took another puff of the pipe. “Aye, the very same, who are now mostly dead.”

  Aichlan sunk into his chair. “I didn’t *hic* mean...”

  “Ay know what ye meant.” She marked her page and set the book down. “Ye were a bit o’ an ass then as well.”

  Aichlan buried his face in the crook of his arm. His lips were dry and his throat was tight, he knew he should get up for water, but could not muster the strength to get up.

  “Ye don’t look well lad.”

  “Just need a drink.” Aichlan croaked, grateful that the spinning had subsided, leaving the room rocking like a ship on rough seas.

  Hratchouhi approached and handed him a glass of water. “Take mine.”

  Aichlan mumbled his thanks as he gulped down the refreshing liquid. He had been eating and drinking since the ceremony and was almost certain he had blacked out at some point during the day.

  “You traveled a helluva way to just sit in a parlour reading alone.” Aichlan slurred as he wiped his mouth off on his sleeve. “Aren’t ya gonna go out and enjoy the festivities?”

  Hratchouhi laughed and took a seat. “I have been enjoying the festivities, there’s just only so much party one can take.”

  Aichlan scoffed and waved her off. “It’ll be over come midnight.”

  “It’s five in the morning.”

  “Oh…” Aichlan tried to set the empty glass on the end table and ended up dropping it on the floor. “Shit.”

  Hratchouhi laughed again, Aichlan was beginning to become annoyed by the woman’s boundless mirth.

  “How long’s it been five?”

  Hratchouhi dumped the spent pipe and packed a new one. “Oh, about forty minutes or so.”

  “Fuckin’ hell…”

  “Aye.”

* * *

  The blinding rays of the sun woke Aichlan, soon followed by the bubbling stomach and throbbing head. His mouth tasted like sick, but as he looked around the floor and on his clothing, he found no signs of vomit. His neck was sore, and he had ache in his lower back from a night spent slumped in a high-backed armchair.

  “He lives.”

  Aichlan shielded his eyes against the glare as he searched out the source of the voice. Seated in the corner by the window was a red-haired elf woman, her hair looking like a roaring fire against the sunlight. She idly bounced a pipe in one hand as she held a book in the other. Aichlan could have sworn he had met her somewhere before.

  “Your brother is a rather charming, if odd fellow.”

  “Brother?” Aichlan croaked. “What brother?”

  The woman cocked her head to the side. “The older fellow, Admiral something or another. With the tattoos.”

  Aichlan forced himself to sit up, applying pressure to his eyes in a futile attempt to alleviate the throbbing. “Francis? Who the hell said he was my brother?”

  “He did, he stopped by shortly after you did.”

  Aichlan raised his hand to shield his eyes from the glare. “And you believed him? We look nothing alike.”

  The woman shrugged. “Neither do Donough and Enyo.”

  “How do you know them?”

  “Yer kidding, right?”

  Aichlan searched desperately for a pitcher of water, but only found empty beer bottles. “My fucking head…”

  “Aye, the two o’ you went pretty hard inta it when he showed up. Though I believe he was more interested in getting to know me a bit more, intimately. I must say, assuming all the lines the two o’ ye were feeding me were true, he sounds like a decent fellow.”

  “What the fuck…What time is it?”

  “Just after five?” The said with a shrug. “The two o’ ye broke the clock, but I heard the chimes from another room nae too lang ago.”

  “Impossible! It was just five, five minutes ago!”

  The woman giggled. “Nae, I daen’t think so.”

  “And who are you again?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I hope ye aren’t this forgetful when it comes tae yer woman lad.”

  Aichlan wagged his finger at her as he turned his head to burp. “Right, right, Ashe’s friend.”

  Hratchouhi shrugged and sighed loudly. “Better’n naethin’ I s’pose.”

  Aichlan burped again, desperately wishing for water. “Where is Ashe?”

  Hratchouhi shrugged, her full attention on the pages. “I just popped in a lil’ bit ago, seems this is the only quiet spot left in the whole bloody place. You were still slumped in the chair how I left ye, so I decided to catch up on me reading.”

  “I’m ne’er drinking again…”

  “Ha! Ain’t that the lie we ne’er told before?”

  Aichlan sat up and leaned forward, scooting the chair back and causing something metallic to clatter against the floor. He bent over and picked up a steel targe, it was inlaid with copper and had intricate engravings all across. It bore the colors of his homeland in precious stone and metals: silver, emerald and pearl.

  “Is this yours?” Aichlan asked, still in awe of the craftsmanship.

  “Well, I made it, but it is a gift for you. Ashe told me ya lost yer last one.”

  “I can’t go into battle with this, it’s gorgeous.”

  Hratchouhi frowned and cut her eyes at Aichlan. “Just because something is pretty disnae mean it cannae serve a practical purpose. At least nae when it comes to Colby-Nau craftsmanship.”

  “Are you sure you want-“

  Hratchouhi held up her hand. “We’ve gone through this already when your Admiral friend was tryna get me in his bed. Just take it and use it well.”

  “Well, thank you. Sincerely.”