Dark Lord's Wedding

by A. E. Marling

  Hiresha asked, “There’s another Feaster outside, is there?”

  “One of my sisters. She wants to meet you.”

  “I haven’t enough hours in the day to meet every stray Feaster. Will this be a common occurrence?”

  “No.”

  “This then is a Feaster of uncommon import?” Potentially the same one who had destroyed a household not too long ago, not too far away.

  “She’s the Bleeding Maiden.” Celaise said the name as if it should signify something to Hiresha.

  Perhaps it did. People without anything better to do traded stories around campfires, gruesome tales about the exploits of Feasters. Hiresha hadn’t succeeded in ignoring them all. She had glimpsed the Bleeding Maiden before in Oasis City. This Feaster and Hiresha couldn’t have much to discuss, excepting perhaps an intimate knowledge of internal anatomy.

  The fennec was scraping at the clay soil. He hadn’t made much progress on this burrow. The fox looked up at Hiresha and yowled, his black whiskers bobbing.

  “The ground here is most uncooperative, isn’t it?” Hiresha took the fennec along to ensure her time with the Feaster wouldn’t be utterly wasted.

  The Bleeding Maiden resembled little more than a waif, stumbling closer over the rubble. A lost thing, she was, slight and fragile as a sphene jewel.

  She caught sight of Hiresha. Her eyes lit with lash-fluttering hope. She reached out with a hand covered in red spots. “Can you help me? My back pains me so.”

  The waif limped closer, clutching her side. Moonlight pierced the canopy to fall on her face. She glowed with fever sweat, and the same lesions covered her exquisite features. Those spots would open soon in pus.

  She had the pox. She was a plague bearer carrying death for her lord. In one facet he had blighted the Oasis Empire. In this one he had doomed the Dominion of the Sun. Hiresha clutched the fennec against her chest as the future devastated her.

  “Can you help me?” The waif reached out again. Thirty-five spots covered her hand.

  Before there had been only twenty-seven. Her infirmity was an illusion.

  Screams had been scrabbling up Hiresha’s throat. She stifled them to speak in a level voice. “You are a dangerous one.”

  The Bleeding Maiden curtsied.

  Somehow, the Bleeding Maiden had known. It was as if she had stolen thoughts out of Hiresha’s sunset facet. She had rummaged Hiresha’s mind for her deepest fears.

  “No, I don’t think I can help you,” Hiresha said. “The illusion you’re wearing is in extremely poor taste.”

  “Then maybe I can help you.” Her lesions fluttered off her skin and were gone. “With a warning.”

  Hiresha rubbed the fennec’s fuzzy chest with two fingers. The fox sang a whirling trill of notes. He had not been frightened by the Feaster. He had more composure in his black-tipped tail than most men in their ungainly bodies.

  “Two are hunting you,” the Bleeding Maiden said.

  The Empire might’ve sent more than one assassin. They would both be highly trained spellswords.

  “I’ll bring them to you,” the Feaster said. “We can listen to them scream and be friends.”

  “Do you mean that the assassins will become friends by screaming together, or that you and I would bond over the experience? Either case sounds unappealing.”

  “Then, you want to enjoy their deaths alone?”

  “Do I look like a woman of frivolity?” Hiresha asked the fennec.

  The Bleeding Maiden managed to scowl and smile at the same time. She may very well dislike being less alluring than a fox. What was certain was that she had a greater understanding of fears than other desires. She peered around her then came uncomfortably close. “I’m afraid the lord father may be tricking you.”

  “In which particular?”

  “To us, black wine is power,” the Bleeding Maiden said. “To others, it seduces the mind.”

  “I’m fairly certain it does for Feasters as well.” Hiresha walked around the banyan fortress. The Bleeding Maiden had to follow.

  A misshapen shadow leaned against the banyans. It was Celaise, listening. Excellent. She would do well to hear this.

  The Bleeding Maiden clasped her hands over her bandaged chest. Blood had soaked through the linens in a rosette pattern. “When one of us touches you, your heart beats faster. You flush. You swoon with chills, but that’s not love. It’s black wine.”

  That did confirm Hiresha’s suspicions. She had always speculated about Tethiel. Back when she had met him in a gazebo on a rainy night, again beneath a tomb tower of brass, and a third time high in the blustery Skiarri Mountains, her moments with Tethiel had been bright points in her sleepy life. His magic had made it so. To think a mere man could so awaken her with a rush of feelings would be most illogical.

  “I’m so sorry,” the Bleeding Maiden said. “Did you think you loved him?”

  This Feaster was a subtle louse. “Whatever made you think, vapid girl, that I believe in love?”

  “But, you are engaged?”

  “Love is an invention of singers and storytellers to captivate the masses. A cultural construct, at best. No, Tethiel and I have something greater than love.”

  “He threatened you?”

  “We have an understanding,” Hiresha said.

  “What is it?”

  “None of your affair.” Hiresha and he were a pair of anomalies without any need to explain themselves to each other.

  “As cold as you are, he loves you.” The Bleeding Maiden pressed her chest, ostensibly trying to stem the redness spreading from her bandages. “I only wish I knew why.”

  “Tethiel does seem to have an inexplicable interest.” He had followed Hiresha onto the Dream Storm Sea in a rowboat. He never could’ve known she would gain all the powers of a dreamer.

  “He’s a great man.” The bloodstain spread over the illusionist’s dress in petal patterns, at an equal rate in all directions, in defiance of the laws of gravity. Her gaze darted up to Hiresha. “He could be the greatest, if he isn’t led astray.”

  “Did you hear that, fennec? I am accused of corrupting a lord of nightmares.” Hiresha’s jewels throbbed in time to her laughter. “I must have done something right with my life after all.”

  “He’s being lured from his calling,” the Bleeding Maiden said.

  “Which is?”

  “To make the world kneel.”

  “Far better to fly above the world and invite it to follow.” Hiresha gave the fennec a warning squeeze then swung him into the air. His new jeweled necklace pulsed, Lightening him so he could swim toward the sky. The fox’s tail swished back and forth above them. “Far more inspiring, you must agree.”

  “I’m afraid,” the Bleeding Maiden said, “that my brother and sister Feasters may undercut your wedding.”

  “I shouldn’t worry about it if they’re all as infantile as you. Really, warning me away from Tethiel? I understand your wish to appear younger, yet you’re insulting me by acting your illusory age.”

  To this, the Bleeding Maiden said nothing.

  “Come, fennec.” Hiresha reached up, and the fox dogpaddled back through the air into her hands. “I’m certain we both have more important things to do than entertain this pouty sadist.”

  Hiresha leaped up over the banyans. She Attracted her dress to hold fast about her legs as she fell through the opening in the branches at the center of her fortress. After drifting to the ground, she examined her artificial pond.

  Yes, her fish constructs leaped out of the water in warning when she introduced the leather hide of a caiman. However, people might be attracted to the metallic scales rather than avoiding the danger. She needed a new design.

  Celaise floated back into the fortress. She cast off her shadow cloak to reveal glowing star-silk.

  “Did Lord Tethiel ask you to spy on the meeting?” Hiresha asked.

  “To watch over you.” The girl fitted her gloved fingers together. A nova shone on each of her knuckles.
“In case she started Feasting.”

  “The Bleeding Maiden only assaulted my sensibilities.”

  “She’ll move the night to stop us. Stop the wedding.”

  “She’s welcome to try,” Hiresha said.

  Someone was sneaking into the grove. Jerani craned his head, and, yes, there it was. A pattering of two feet, they didn’t belong to one of the llamas trying to creep in to nibble the purple lotuses. That walk didn’t come from any of the villagers. Too light, it went swish-swish-swish. A warrior might be rushing between the banyans and touching the ground with only the balls of his feet.

  Jerani picked up his spear, careful not to clack it against the branches of the banyan tree. The intruder would have to pass beneath him. Once the man slipped through the root gateway, Jerani could spear him. That might not be enough. This could be a Bright Palm. Or Jerani could be hearing the person the lady had warned about, the man with tattoos.

  She had told Jerani not to try fighting this one. But what could he do? Jerani couldn’t let the tattooed man into the grove. The lady was sleeping in her shack. She had told them to not bother her until midnight. Jerani would have to. Yes, if it was the tattooed man, Jerani would force him back with a thrust then leap down and sprint to the shack.

  Jerani’s hands throbbed with heat. The spear might well have been on fire, embers sticking into his palms and burning deeper. He leaned forward, ready to jump, dive, plunge the spear into whoever was coming. The Lady of Gems didn’t know Jerani’s true strength. He could stop any tattooed man. Jerani was the better warrior, and he had the marks on his face to prove it.

  A crouching figure ran in between the roots. Jerani leaped, spear first.

  The person below had no armor. He had no tattoos. He wasn’t bent over after all, only short. No, not a warrior at all. Just a girl.

  Jerani wrenched his spear to the side and contorted in the air. He didn’t fall on her. He landed alongside, but she still screamed. He might’ve gored her. Did her blood cover his horn spearpoint? No, he had pulled the weapon away in time.

  “Sorry. I thought you were, ah, someone with tattoos.” Jerani could explode with shame. He would have if he had hurt her. She had dropped a rock. He picked it up and held it out. “Here.”

  The girl’s ears stuck out from the sides of her head like a pretty calf’s. Her eyes were far too big and all white with fright. But she was brave too. She didn’t run from him.

  “Thought you were jaguar.” She pressed her hands against her chest. All her ribs were showing. “Pouncing down to pop my head.”

  Again with the jaguar talk. Maybe Jerani would have to wear that bracer.

  “Geia told me about a dark man. I was so mad I hadn’t got to see you. I was sick. I hate being sick.”

  Sick, and today he had almost killed her by mistake.

  “I got to meet that other stranger, the woman asking about Resha. And now you, so ha! Geia will be the sorry one.”

  The girl bounced on her tiptoes as she talked. She must’ve met Celaise. Celaise was out by the llamas.

  “I’m all better now. That’s why I’m here, to thank Resha.” The girl fiddled with the hair behind her ear then pointed to the rock in Jerani’s hand. “That’s for her. It’s an egg crystal.”

  “An egg crystal?”

  “She calls them something else. But you can tell. Feel it.”

  The rock was round and brown. “It feels like a rock.”

  “No, it’s lighter,” the girl said. “It’s empty inside and full of crystals.”

  Could that be true? Jerani turned the stone over in his hand.

  “Love seeing Resha open them. Let’s get her.”

  “No,” Jerani said. “I don’t think we’re supposed to bother the lady—bother Resha—before midnight.”

  “That’s forever. Wait, is the midday rest almost over?”

  “The what?”

  “Have to go.” The girl bolted back between the roots.

  Jerani left her rock gift in front of the lady’s shack then walked out of the grove. He had been so sure it had been a man sneaking in, but it had just been a girl’s light step. Jerani could’ve gashed her. He could’ve speared her through. He whipped his head from side to side. He should give thanks to the Angry Mother, but there was no grass fit to burn in her honor. He needed to be with his tribe and his herd, to soak in the calmness of the cows.

  He followed the tinkling sound of llamas bells. They had no peace in their herd, just spitting, grunting, and neck battles. Jerani only came for Celaise. She was waiting for him.

  She gripped her crutch with both hands, her good one hiding her claw. “What happened?”

  Celaise always knew when he had taken a scare. He told her about the near miss with the girl. “You must’ve met her.”

  “That one led us to the lady’s grove.” Celaise tapped his shoulder with a tortoise-shell comb.

  “I think this was another girl.” He knelt to let Celaise mend his hair. Half the dreadlocks had come unbraided. It would help him settle to have his hair up and out of his eyes.

  “You were quick. You didn’t hit her. That’s what matters.” Celaise began to knot the cords of his hair behind his head. After a tug, her arm clicked, and she gasped.

  He turned from watching the grove. Jerani held Celaise’s wrist. “This is hurting you. Let me.”

  “No. I want to do this.” She fumbled at his braids. “If only I wasn’t so worthless. Your family made up your hair so much better.”

  “I don’t mind the loose knot.” It reminded him of Celaise.

  “You should have your red clay to rub in. Your hair used to be so bright.”

  A warrior mustn’t die without the grassland soil dyeing his hair. Not that he could do anything about that. It would disgrace the Angry Mother even more to stain his hair with the sick-yellow dirt of the rainforest. “I’ll just have to not die.”

  “Your hair will never be right while you’re with me.”

  “Maybe not quite right but still great.”

  Celaise gave him the best of gifts, one of her daytime smiles. Her lips were wide and pink around her gem-black teeth. Maybe everything would be right between them someday. Maybe she wouldn’t tell him to leave her and not come back. Maybe she wouldn’t go where he couldn’t follow.

  “Your teeth.” He had to look away from her to check the grove entrance. No one was there. “Did the lady enchant them?”

  Celaise touched her lips. “She must have. They aren’t loose anymore. Bet I could bite through a pomegranate. Or a finger.” She chomped her dark teeth at him.

  Jerani pulled back his hand and laughed. “The lady came by last night. I mean, this morning. I dreamed of her.”

  Celaise’s gemstone teeth were covered by her puckered frown.

  “It wasn’t that sort of dream.” Jerani shoved away the idea with his hands. He had dreamed of webs streaming out from the jewel she had given him. It pulsed under his arm where he had hidden it, stuck to his skin as a crystal spider. The lady had appeared and woven its webs forward and back along his face.

  He itched there even after waking. Jerani scratched his chin and along the line of the warrior mark.

  “She’s done something to you,” Celaise said. “More than she’d say. The lady lied to us.”

  “Why would she?”

  “They all lie. Even that girl. She didn’t meet me. I haven’t met anyone without you.”

  “She can’t have lied. She mustn’t have meant to.” The girl’s face had been too open and sweet, all calf and no crocodile. “Another woman must’ve asked about the lady.”

  “Like her?” Celaise nodded toward the grove.

  A hulking figure walked about the banyans, likely looking for a way in. Jerani squinted through the misty forest gloom. It was a woman, not large but small and carrying pack on her back as big as she was.

  Jerani turned to Celaise. “Is she, ah, one of your sisters?”

  Celaise shook her head with a gravely scraping sound. �
�The Mimic is coming soon, but that woman doesn’t smell like family.”

  Jerani hopped to his feet, spear in hand.

  “Don’t.” Celaise gripped some of his loose hair. “The lady didn’t ask for us to protect her.”

  “But we have to, for the lord. And she’s asleep.” Jerani would never let a stranger walk up to Celaise while she slept.

  “Then we go together.” Celaise took his arm.

  The woman didn’t seem to slump under the pack so much as lean forward to balance its weight. Two swords hung from it, one long, one short. She was carrying someone’s weapons. Perhaps the tattooed man’s. She slung the pack off in one motion and faced Jerani. She didn’t startle. She must’ve seen people like him before.

  “If you came for the lady,” Celaise said, “come back tonight.”

  “Then Hiresha is here?” The woman kept her chin high but her eyes lowered. She spoke softly. Her words still had a stinging sharpness. “My name is Naroh Sen. Once I was her maid.”

  “What are you now?” Celaise asked.

  “The first.” Naroh shuffled around the roots. She stopped in front of the grove entrance, where footprints led in and out. “Maybe the last.”

  “The last what?” Jerani asked.

  The pack, something had changed about it. The swords were gone. Naroh must’ve taken them. Yes, she had hidden them against her side. She would throw them to the tattooed man. He must be close. Danger clung to Jerani’s skin in a chilly dampness.

  “Cannot wait until the night.” Naroh glanced toward Celaise’s cane. “We’ve come too far. We’ve risked too much already.”

  Naroh dashed between the banyans. She held both swords in one hand sheathed.

  Jerani chased after her.

  “No, Jerani!” Celaise reached for him. “Jerani!”

  He had to. Naroh had said “We.” She was with the tattooed man. Jerani had to keep them from hurting the lady. Without her, there would be no wedding, and without that, no freedom for Jerani and Celaise.

  Jerani slowed before the root gateway. He had to worry about the woman doubling back and ambushing him like he had the girl, chopping off his head with those swords. She might know how to use them. She moved like a warrior.