by Curtis, Greg
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“Qua’thor’s hairy balls!” Marjan couldn’t believe it when they stepped through the portal to once more stand on the green grass of Evensong. The quiet village slowly rebuilding itself from the ground up was gone, and in its place someone had left a mad house.
People were running around madly, screaming, laughing, singing, dancing, crying and some of them all of that at once. Young and old, human, elf, dwarf even dryad, it seemed that everyone was under the same spell, drunk it seemed on victory, and most of them on cider and mead as well. And the dark wizard had only fallen to his death half an hour before. How could that be? Yet even as he wondered Marjan suddenly spotted master Silas staggering around the common with a bottle of something that looked particularly unelven in his hand, and tears streaming down his cheeks as he sang some strange song, and he knew the answer. Spellcasters could spread news faster than chatting village wives.
“The dark one’s gone my love, his balls too.” Essaline, her hand in his, corrected him almost by instinct, but he knew she was just as shocked by what she was seeing as he was, maybe more so. This after all was her town, and she’d lived here all her life, a sober, calm and thoughtful life. Now it seemed as if the people had all turned to drink and maybe some herbal potions as well.
“I know. I think they know too.”
For the longest time they stood there, watching, and wondering what to do, join in or look on disapprovingly, when Marjan remembered that they had something more important to do. “Beloved we should visit your parents.” And he realised it should be soon, because the one thing he was suddenly sure of as he watched the townsfolk rapidly starting to make up for years of sobriety, was that if they’d heard that the dark wizard was dead, they’d probably also heard that there was a wedding planned. That was not the sort of news parents should learn second hand.
Marjan stared into Essaline’s and she stared back at him, the cogs turning as she realised where his thoughts were leading, and then together they started running for the other side of the common where her parents were camped, Bearabus chasing them down hard.
Of course it was probably too late. He knew that when he saw people running around madly with cushions in their hands, setting them out in what was still their meeting chamber for an audience, while a couple of elves were carrying what looked like a small wooden podium between them. It seemed they already knew there was a ceremony planned.
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Chapter Twenty-Five.
The moon was shining down serenely on the lake, leaving a silver path of light on its rippling surface, the stars were out, and the fire was burning brightly, and even though he was once more spending a night under canvas and not in his oh so comfortable house, Marjan couldn’t help but feel he was in paradise.
Once more in his old home, camped by the lake, warm and comfortable despite the chill in the air, and for the first time in far too long, with nothing at all he needed to do, a man could be very happy like that. Of course it was even better when he had someone to share it with, and as he stared at the way the firelight danced off Essaline’s perfect skin as she lay in the sleeping roll beside him, smiling like a cat with cream, he knew that happiness was simply not a good enough word to describe how he felt. He wasn’t sure there was one.
“So my beloved, my wife,” Marjan was overwhelmingly happy to be able to say that to Essaline, there had been times, too many times, when he had thought it might never happen, and he had repeated it endlessly, “- are you happy?”
She was, he could see the joy in her eyes as she lay there beside him, joy that was only reflected in his own, and he knew he had made her a very happy woman indeed. A massive wedding, spellcasters, priests and elders almost without number to witness their joining, and at the same time to celebrate the end of a terrible war, most of them drunk. The entire town there to watch, and clap and shout and cheer, and sometimes to fall down under the influence of the free flowing wine. Master Silas, master Argus and Captain Saul all standing beside him acting as best men while he waited for her to walk down the makeshift aisle. The rest of the troop forming an honour guard. Her family there too, almost in tears as the emotion of the day threatened to overcome everyone. It had been magnificent, a wedding that would be spoken of for many years to come.
Then of course there was the singing, dancing, partying and feasting, Bearabus was particularly happy about the latter as she snored away contentedly, her belly full, which he was certain was still going on. He doubted it would stop before the morning and maybe not even then. But they at least had finally made a mostly dignified escape through a portal to their honeymoon. With tears of joy streaming down her face, Essaline was the very definition of happiness.
“Yes.” She beamed at him almost glowing in the darkness, supremely happy. “That was wonderful.” He didn’t know whether she meant the celebration, the wedding or their finally coming together as a man and a woman, probably all of them, but he didn’t care as long as she was happy.
“You were wonderful.” It was only the truth, and his only regret as he kissed her once more was that it had taken them so long to get there, and maybe that it was taking him too long to regain his strength so that they could celebrate their love again. “And you looked like a goddess in your wedding dress.” It was true, and it was almost a shame that it now graced the back of their makeshift tent, tossed to the grass along with his clothes as well, as they’d finally given in to their hungers.
“And you. Three days, my love. For three days you will not be leaving that bedroll.” As answers went it was the one he most wanted to hear, especially when it was a very small bedroll, barely big enough for the two of them, and they were both wonderfully naked, and she was absolutely beautiful, but then that was as it should be, especially when they had finally become man and wife as nature intended. Besides it was warm and comfortable, and once the excitement had died down a little, though they were really only waiting for it to return, which would not be long, they could stare at the moon shining peacefully upon the lake, and kiss in front of the fire, and simply laugh.
“As long as you’re with me.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” She reached up a little and kissed him some more. “We have a fire, some food, a comfortable place to sleep and for the first time ever, nothing to do. Three whole days of nothing to do. Believe me I’m staying right here with you.” Marjan believed her. He knew the same feeling. The overwhelming relief as a terrible burden had been lifted. The entire day had been the same.
“That’s probably wise my lovely Essaline. You know Evensong is going to be unliveable for the next few days. Between the wine and the song, and the endless wrath of the grapes to follow, it will be three days at least before people are on their feet again.” It might actually be longer. In all his time among them, he’d never seen the people so overcome with emotion, and once the partying had started and the casks had been opened, an orderly, well-mannered town had swiftly become a carnival of madness. He’d never seen an elf drunk before, but that afternoon he’d hardly witnessed any that were still sober, and it didn’t help that they had so many guests.
The dwarves had been completely out of their heads well before the evening had even fallen, laughing, shouting, fighting, singing and generally making a mess. The humans had been joining them in a desperate attempt to keep up, and despite their usual sombre reserve, the dryads had been forming into little groups and started up with their flutes and drums. Even the elders, the so-called responsible, respectable ones, had been finding difficulty walking. Of course the spellcasters just made it worse as by the time the sky had begun darkening, they were already launching huge displays of lights and fireworks into the sky, releasing their magic in an endless display of joy. The guards were going to be busy. Which was yet another reason Marjan was so happy to have been able to slip away through the portal with his new wife.
“You know a little more fire would be welcome.” As she spoke Essaline tossed another
small log on the fire, making sure it didn’t burn too low. The unexpected thing was that she reached for, picked up and tossed the log without actually touching it, it was too far away. Her arm just went through the motions and the log obeyed.
“By the Goddess that is strange.” She’d been doing similar things all day, and each time it caught her by surprise.
“For me too my lovely wife.” He smiled as he looked down on her, still amazed at how beautiful she looked in the orange glow of the fire, and unbelievably happy. He kissed her again for good measure.
“Yes, that you’re going to have a spellcaster for a wife. That must be a shock.” She kissed him back, pleased by the thought and maybe she had reason. Being married to a mage surely wasn’t easy, and maybe having a little bit of magic would help her deal with him.
“A very pleasant one, but that’s not what I meant.” He settled back down into the bedroll beside her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled the covers up a bit further, feeling just a little of the night’s chill settling in. “When you do that I feel it almost as though I’m doing it.”
“Still?” It had made sense when the battle had been raging and they had somehow been linked, through the Goddess and the Lord of Magic, but that time was passed.
“Mmmm.” He snuggled closer into her, and let his hand run down the side of her waist, enjoying her.
“Does it bother you?”
“No! Never!” Marjan laughed at the idea even as he kissed her gently on the cheek, feeling a little strength finally returning to his lethargic flesh. “I welcome it. Its just odd.” Her lips met his once more and they enjoyed the returning promise of things to come.
“Its likely only the echo of this morning. It will probably pass.” She was telling him as much because she thought that though he denied it, he was still somehow troubled by her having access to his magic. The truth though was the exact opposite.
“I don’t think so. It may fade a little, but I don’t think it will ever go away, and I don’t think I’d want it to.” She stared up at him, surprised. “But I don’t think I’d mention it to the other spellcasters any time soon.”
“Marjan?”
“Wizards don’t marry. Especially not the powerful ones. Never have, never will. Its one of those facts of life that we of the Guilds simply accept. Mostly because it’s thought that a wizard simply doesn’t have the time to be a husband and a father and study his craft. So most of us take only occasional mistresses, engage in the odd dalliance, but no more.”
“I am not a dalliance.” She actually managed to look almost stern as she said it, though she knew he didn’t mean her. She just wanted him to tell her once more that she was no casual lover. He could do that.
“Most definitely not. You are my wife, and I love you without limit or end.” He was rewarded with another smile and a kiss, exactly as she had always intended.
“But I think maybe that another reason spellcasters don’t usually wed is this. Most of us don’t like the idea of sharing our magic, and some of the older tales from the journals of past wizards spoke of this very thing happening. Not as quickly as us, not as powerfully, but still happening. They even have a name for it, spill over, as if the magic of the wizard is so great that during times of passion and emotion, a little of the magic slips away, and runs into another. Its another reason that wizards are not supposed to wed. The idea that their magic could be lost to another unready to handle it.” But the actual reason, and they both knew it, was that no wizard could tolerate the loss of even a tiny fraction of his magic. Selfishness was another mark of a wizard, which was why he was so glad to be a mage.
“Now though, with the Goddess and Ephesus linked as never before, life and magic becoming one, I think that what is happening between us, will happen to others, and sooner rather than later.”
“And -?”
“And I think there are going to be a lot of upset spellcasters when they find out. I just don’t want to be around when they realise it. I’m always the one they blame.” That drew a laugh even as she knew it was true. No matter what happened he was always the one they blamed.
“I won’t blame you.” She somehow managed to wriggle a leg under his thigh and then wrapped it around him and with a determined effort rolled them so that he was on top of her once more. Essaline was surprisingly strong when she wanted to be, and he knew what she wanted. Again.
“Good. I’m sure there will be plenty of other things you can blame me for!”
“Like keeping your goodwife waiting?”
“Never.”