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A.R.Yngve DARC AGES Book Three _________________________ |
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![]() Wedding day |
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Chapter 16
Two days later, the weather cleared up long enough for the awaited wedding to take place. The night just before the ceremony, Dohan confided to his friend what inner torment he was going through. "Darc, I love her so. She is the loveliest, most beautiful woman I have ever met. Yet -- do I put her in greater peril if I marry her? My parents, my peers -- they are never going to forgive me. She is the daughter of a --" "Don't say that word in Mechao's house!" Darc snapped. "I've been talking to Meijji's parents. They understand the risks, and they reminded me that I'm involved in this too. Whatever happens, I'll be there to help you and Meijji. I swear." "You are my best friend, Darc. You're -- the brother I never had." Dohan had almost said "the father I never had", but changed his mind at the last instant. He was still hoping his father would one day forgive him. "Good," Darc said. "Now get some sleep, and make Meijji the happiest bride in the world tomorrow. Or else!" Shara knocked on Meijji's bedroom door. "Go away!" a high-strung young woman's voice responded from inside. Shara yawned. Once, in her own youth, she had sworn never to get children until she had fought her way up from the gutter. She was not about to assume responsibility for another daughter just yet. "Stop whining and let me in," Shara said in a deadpan voice. "Or I kick in the door. Your father asked me to talk to you." After a minute, Meijji unlocked and opened her door. In the light from the corridor, Shara saw that the brown-skinned girl's face was shiny with tears. Without a moment's doubt, the older woman stepped inside the darkened chamber and lit a candle. The bride-to-be, Shara observed, had left her wedding dress crumpled on the floor in a pile of clothing. "I won't do it," Meijji said sulkily, sitting down on the floor, clutching her legs to her chest. "He's a beast. He would force me to leave my home, and take me out into that crazy world with its Lepers and wars and fortress cities, and..." Shara yawned again, and replied: "I won't stay here and talk all night, you know. I have a crippled child to attend to." "Fine," Meijji sobbed. "Then please go." "Not before I've found out what it is you want." "You don't understand! You're not from here." "Now listen to me! There are a lot of good people working hard so that you and Dohan will be happy together. Because we all know you're going to face some hard times. But in the end, it depends on you if this is going to last." Meijji looked up, her eyes wet. "What do you mean, I love him!" Shara replied with a shrug: "Falling in love, that's easy. But once the first difficulties begin, will you run home and hide between your father's legs? Or are you woman enough to face the duties of marriage?" "I'm a grown woman! I can take care of myself!" Shara was unrelenting: "But can you care for others? Do you have the guts to stand up for Dohan? His life is much, much harder than yours. I have seen him risk his life, sometimes kill for his family and city. There is some part of his soul that finds glory in bloodshed. You won't be able to change that, no matter how much you try. Would you still love him, if you had seen him fight in a war? Would you wash the blood off his hands?" "I saved his life once! You --" Meijji burst into tears again and leapt forward, lunging at Shara with raised fists. The older woman dodged the girl, took a swift step away and held out her arms in a defensive stance. "Calm down! I was just testing you." Meijji blinked uncertainly; Shara smiled at her. "You did good. Don't worry. The wedding will be just fine. Now get some sleep." "But --" Shara let down her guard; then, sensing no danger, she gave Meijji a brief hug. "Good luck," she said and left the chamber. |
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The wedding ceremony took place in the largest chapel of the main island. Yet, over a thousand guests from the neighboring islands had to crowd outdoors and try to peek through its windows. Inside, Amada and a large entourage of children and relatives were gathered in the best seats; Meijji's sister Alchaia was absent. Mechao's two oldest sons packed in their families in the rows behind. Pop Shah's musical troupe was also present, playing a classical wedding march that Darc had remembered at the last moment.
Darc himself escorted the bridegroom to the altar in a slow, unrehearsed march. They were both dressed in the nobleman clothes in which they had first arrived, repaired and polished up by an army of seamstresses. The very sword that had killed Mechao's elephant-crocodile hybrid only months earlier now hung from Dohan's belt, polished and sharp. Darc, sweating in his stuffed collar, sent a fleeting thought to his long-lost children. He had imagined seeing them grow up and raise families of their own; he shook off the thought, and was happy for Dohan's sake. At the altar, Mechao waited with his daughter the bride. Her straight, long dress was of a golden-yellow, heavy fabric, and golden jewelry glittered on her head and neck. The bridal veil was a wide-meshed net of gold threads, through which Meijji peered at her groom with an expectant smile. When Darc looked forward, he began to doubt his eyesight, then realized that not one but three priests and one priestess were lined up at the altar. The groom and best man reached the altar -- it was not particularly large or costly, but decorated with painted statues and flowers -- and faced the bride's father. Mechao, resembling a shining mandarin in his blue-black silken clothes, nodded to Darc and grinned childishly. Then he took his daughter's hand, and ceremoniously put it into Dohan's sweaty palm. He gave Dohan's shoulder an encouraging pat. The two older men winked at the young couple, and quietly went to their seats in the front aisle -- Mechao next to his wife, and Darc next to Shara. Shara was holding a symbolic third seat for the only absent guest -- Eye-Leg. It was as yet impossible, for many reasons, to allow her inside a church. The ceremony proceeded, as a synthesis of the religions brought by all the peoples who had left their mark on Kap Verita during the Great Wars and later. Darc recognized traces of Christian, Buddhist, African, Moslem, and Hindu tradition in the liturgy -- and, of course, the later practices of the Monro faith. One female and three male old priests sung their respective chants, read from their books, and made their signs. Dohan sweated heavily during the rituals -- partly because of the heat in the crowded chapel, partly because of his uneasiness with the mixed rituals. Each priest in turn gave the bride and groom a wedding ring. After more than half an hour, the oldest priest finally got to the point: "Swear after me: 'I, Dohan Wyan Damon...'" "I, Dohan Wyan Damon..." "'...take you, Meijji Osanto al-Mechao-dattir...'" "...take you, Meijji Osanto al-Mechao-dattir..." "'...to be my lawful wife in sacred marriage, till death do us part.'" "...to be my lawful wife in sacred marriage, till death do us part." Dohan let out a sigh; a threshold had been crossed, and at once he felt a different man. Then the priest turned to the bride, and his whole brown, wrinkled face smiled -- he had baptized her as a baby. It struck Darc just then, that the bride and groom had not only grown slightly taller since he first met them... something in their postures was changing even now, their faces becoming more determined, their jaws set firmer. And neither of the two were yet eighteen years old. Adulthood came early in this time, Darc thought, and he envied the young couple. "Swear after me: 'I, Meijji Osanto al-Mechao-dattir...'" "I, Meijji Osanto al-Mechao-dattir..." "'...take you, Dohan Wyan Damon...'" "...take you, Dohan Wyan Damon..." "'...to be my lawful husband in sacred marriage, till death do us part.'" With the slightest tremble in her voice, so much lower than usual, she said: "To be my lawful husband in sacred marriage, till death do us part." The priest nodded, raised his arms, and proclaimed: "You are now as one. May the gods bless you and your offspring. Ahmen!" All four priests linked hands and the remaining three intoned in turn. "A-akhbar..." "Auomm..." "Thee-end," ended the priestess. Suddenly, the churchgoers burst into loud singing. The band, with Pop Shah and his electric bass-guitar, played a gospel-like tune that Darc had never heard -- and before he knew it, he was singing along in the refrain. Dohan and Meijji stood with their hands tightly locked together, kissing each other's lips without moving an inch, oblivious to the happy uproar among them. The short and stocky Faluti, sitting in the third row from the altar, started to sob. Lucijja jabbed her in the ribs. "Don't cry!" Lucijja shouted over the noise. "You're making me cry too!" "I know!" Faluti bawled. "They make such a wonderful couple! It is so beautiful!" "I know!" Faluti cried with emphasis, leaning on her taller friend and blowing her nose. The spectacle lasted for another half-hour, and was followed by dancing and feasting throughout the day. That night, many couples did not get much sleep. Just before going to bed, Shara and Darc went to look after Eye-Leg. She remained deeply asleep -- helped into sleep by medication, as it were -- and they woke her up briefly. Shara told her about the marriage, and the mutant child seemed to listen intently. Then, as they were about to leave the girl's chamber, something stopped them in their tracks. Eye-Leg stared intensely after them, and held up a crumpled paper note in her single healthy hand. The note read, in clumsy large letters: DARC EYE-LEG SHARA Her mouth moved, as she tried to push air through her vocal cords. Like some misplaced reflex, the withered leg on Eye-Leg's shoulders twitched in tune with the movements of her lips. She was attempting to read what she had learned to write. Darc stared at Shara, and asked: "Did you know?" Shara was so moved, she burst into tears and kissed Eye-Leg's hands. Suddenly Darc felt his own eyes brimming over too. He held them both in his arms, as they laughed and wept. He would never admit it to anyone, but he knew he had earned a daughter in exchange for the one he had lost 900 years ago. |
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