Shadow Dagger Ch. 16

Reynar should have been smiling with joy. Instead, he was simply tired and so very weary. After two hundred years, the day of his wedding had finally arrived. Why, then, did he feel so miserable?

"You should try to smile, my lord," Sereph admonished him. "You need to look happy today. People will be watching."

Reynar turned around. Sereph looked as calm and unmovable as always. How he envied the man.

"Are we doing the right thing, Sereph?"

"Yes," he replied without hesitation. "You know the costs if we don't."

"I feel dirty," Reynar admitted. "I shouldn't be forcing myself upon this woman, so soon after her unspeakable tragedy."

"You have no time to spare, my lord."

"I know, the pregnancy," Reynar said, sighing. "My heart is heavy, Sereph. I don't know if I have it in me to smile. I have made so many sacrifices to get to this day. How many more must I make before the end?"

"As many as necessary," Sereph said with great conviction. "I know you're troubled by the seamstress' death, but it had to be done. The safety of Evelyn's child depends of total secrecy."

"I know," Reynar admitted, hating himself for it.

"It's almost time, my lord. You should get dressed." Sereph's voice was gentle.

He helped push Reynar when he needed it but the man was also human. The sacrifices hung heavy on his conscience, too.

Sereph closed the door behind him. Reynar dropped his robe to the floor and walked over the his dressing stand. His wedding outfit hung neatly arrayed on the stand.

Reynar ran his hand through the familiar fabric. Truly, many wonders came from that land beyond the desert. Maybe one day he will give up his throne and ride to lands never seen by man.

He smiled. It was an old fantasy, as familiar as a woman's touch. He dressed quietly and with great care. The breeches were pure white with golden crowns sewn up the legs.

Over his white shirt, he pulled on a white tunic that was mostly gold with the numerous crowns and roses sewn in on the front. The golden collar was stiff and buttoned up beneath his chin.

He pulled on soft, white gloves made from the same material. He sat down on his bed and put on the bright, golden boots made for him for this day. They were stiff and uncomfortable.

He picked up his sword from the ornate stand it rested on. The sheath was golden leather but the grip was white. He slung the sword and it's cloth strap over his shoulder to where the strap hung diagonally across his chest and the sword rested against his side.

Lastly, he picked up the golden crown that rested on a velvet cushion next to his bed. He turned it in his hands. He suddenly remembered the day he was crowned.

All of his friends had been there; Ashford, Braxus, Altus, and Christiana. They had teased him good-naturedly when he met them afterwards.

All but one were dead now. That life seemed like a thousands years ago. With a bittersweet smile, Reynar donned his crown.

***

Evelyn doesn't love him, Sophina repeated to herself for the hundredth time as they swept along the road with the crowd.

Marcus smiled reassuringly next to her. He was there for her, Sophina knew. Marcus' smiles said more than his words.

Sophina had to admit, to her utter disgust, that the prospect of a royal wedding really was quite exciting. The people around her talked excitedly as they made their way to the Royal Quarter.

She was surprised to hear people talking about Evelyn as if they knew her. She knew Evelyn was famous but it irritated her to hear people speak about her so familiarly.

Sophina reflected on the last time she had come down this way. It had been their big plan to assassinate Raynolt during his ceremony. Sophina had been excited and scared, then.

Now, she felt only dread. She wouldn't be mounting any rescue attempts. She would just keep the hood of her cloak low over her face as she watched the woman she loved get married.

The thought bugged her. Ever since her talk with Marcus the night before, she really started to question her love for Evelyn. Marcus' leading questions about Jon had really upset her.

She was almost scared to acknowledge that she might actually be attracted to a man.

No, that's not quite right, Sophina thought. She never really found men to be particularly attractive. She much preferred the soft curves and gentle lips of a woman. If she was honest with herself, she still wasn't attracted to men.

She was just attracted to Jon.

The thought unsettled her. She knew it didn't really make sense but, at the same time, it did. Jon wasn't a man in her mind.

He was...her sword instructor. The person who went out of his way to take care of her, who had gifted her with the most remarkable sword in existence. The person who never looked down on her for being a female solider, who respected her skills.

She knew she still loved Evelyn. But the more she thought about it, the more she came to realize that she loved her in an impersonal way. The way a shy, awkward teenage girl looked up to her hero; to a woman who had gone fearlessly into battle to protect the person she loved.

She loved the idea of Evelyn more than she loved the person. She barely knew the person. She knew Jon in the subtle glances, the way he touched her while showing her a new move.

She knew she loved Jon the man. She feared Jon the assassin. Who was he, really? She wished she knew.

"Are you ok?" Marcus asked, leaning in to whisper over the general hum of the crowd.

Sophina nodded. "I'm ok. Look, we're here."

The crowd began to spread out along the perimeter of the Courtyard of the Twelve. The magnificent golden statues of the founding Order of Magi gleamed in the bright sunlight. It was a beautiful summer day to get married.

Sophina and Marcus found a good spot to stand to watch the proceedings. Sophina glanced around at the many guards patrolling the courtyard. She nervously tugged the hood of her cloak tight.

"Don't worry," Marcus said, leaning in closer again to whisper. "Reynar doesn't want a big commotion to ruin his big day. I doubt the guards have orders to look for you. They're mainly watching out for Magi Victus."

Sophina thought he was right. Looking around, she saw several people who looked as nervous as her. Several more people were pointing at the hundreds of guards as if to assure their loved ones that no Magi Victus would dare attack.

Sophina looked around while she waited for the wedding to begin. The courtyard had been decorated for the wedding.

Everywhere she looked, she saw roses of gold hanging from street corners, from rafters, from trees, and from the statues, too.

The podium where Raynolt had been raised to Grand Master was richly decorated with gold and white colors. It was tradition for the king or queen of Astuari to marry in the traditional summer colors of white and gold.

Sophina wondered where that tradition came from. She wondered if Jon knew.

Thinking about Jon got her contemplating her feelings for the next several minutes. She was eventually broken out of her thoughts by the blaring of trumpets.

She glanced up quickly and saw a long procession snake it's way from the palace and through the gates of the courtyard.

The wedding had begun.

***

Jon woke as soon as the sun tinged the sky with it's riot of colors. He sighed in relief. He sleep dreamlessly.

Good thing, too, or my nightmares might have sapped my strength for this fight.

He exited his tent to find Ashford oiling the sword Jon was going to use. Jon raised an eyebrow.

"I just want to make sure nothing goes wrong," Ashford said, smiling sheepishly.

Jon chuckled. "You worry too much, my friend. I didn't see you come in last night, by the way."

He noted the blush that suffused Ashford's cheeks. "I didn't want to disturb you so I slept in the back of the cart. The tarp kept the wind off of me."

Jon bent down and snatched the sword from Ashford's hand. If he kept oiling it like that, it would slip right off Sazon's skin.

"Was she as fierce as she looked?" Jon asked offhandedly, as he used a cloth the carefully dry the blade.

Ashford coughed into his hand. "I was about to cook breakfast. Do you want some?"

Jon snorted. "No time. Besides, it will just weigh me down."

A crowd had begun to gather around them. Jon ignored them as he began to stretch his muscles. He concentrated on each group of muscles as he stretched them for a count of twenty seconds.

After he was done stretching, he picked up his sword and began to dance the old, familiar dance. He moved through his forms with no thought of the people watching him. He cared only for the blade in his hand.

The blade sang as he slashed it through the air. He developed a good sweat with the leaping and diving moves he incorporated into this dance.

He had no idea of the amount of time that passed as he completed the forms he had drilled into his memory several centuries ago.

When he did look up, he saw the stunned looks of the faces of the people around him. Even Ashford's jaw was slack.

"Where did you learn that?" a deep voice called out.

Jon turned to the side. Sazon had arrived. He was shirtless and held his sword in his hand. The powerful muscles in his chest contracted with each slow, measured breath. The man was a warrior, through and through.

"I taught myself," Jon replied honestly.

He stripped off his brown tunic and tossed it aside. He wasn't nearly as big as Sazon, but his muscles were honed from thousands of battles.

"You do not wish to wear armor?" Sazon asked in surprise.

"Armor is for cowards," Jon replied.

He saw something like respect flash in Sazon's eyes. "It is so," he agreed.

They were slowly ringed by hundreds of steel-eyed warriors. The sun was still low in the sky but already the air was warming up. Sazon had promised one last sunrise. It was time.

"Sazon, Chieftain of the Tribe of the Desert Scorpion, I, Jon d'Thelas san Ronar, by virtue of my accomplished deeds, challenge you to the right of leadership of the Tribe of the Desert Scorpion."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ashford nod. They had gone over the formal challenge on the trip here.

"I, Sazon, Chieftain of the Tribe of the Desert Scorpion, accept your challenge. Let all here recognize your claim and follow your lead if I should fall. Let it be recognized."

"We hear your words, Chieftain, and will follow your commands" came the formal response from the thousands of warriors surrounding them. Many of whom, Jon saw, didn't look too happy to say that.

"Let us begin," Sazon said. He raised his sword in a salute. Jon raised his.

Sazon was on him as fast as that. His double-edged sword came flashing at him from every angle as Jon parried and deflected his blows.

Jon measured his breathing, slow and easy. He simply kept his guard up for the first few exchanges so he could measure Sazon's skill.

The man was good. Very good. Warriors from Raves valued speed over power but Sazon had both. His muscles were overly large but rather lean, built for speed and endurance. His natural strength was great, too. Jon's arm shook from the blows he deflected with his thin, single-edged sword.

But Jon had fought against god-like beings thousands of years ago. Sazon was a child compared to that.

Within half a minute, as Jon settled into the familiar rhythm of the battle, he already knew how this fight would end.

Make it close, he remembered. Ashford had cautioned him to make the fight believable. Otherwise, they would never follow him. They would know him to be unnatural.

So Jon concentrated on denying his instincts. He let his guard slip for a second.

Sazon seized the chance. His sword darted in and slashed a line across Jon's arm. His warriors yelled and shouted insults. Sazon smiled as he circled back in. Jon ignored the blood and the pain as he engaged him again.

Sazon frowned in concentration as Jon drove him back with his attacks. Jon thrust his sword out and Sazon sidestepped it. He brought his sword down in a vicious slash but Jon rolled forward, the sword hit only air, and he sprang back up to his feet.

Sazon roared louder as he slashed his sword toward Jon's head. Jon brought his sword up to deflect the blow harmlessly aside.

He rammed his shoulder into Sazon's chest. Sazon's breath was knocked out of him with the blow. He stumbled back. Jon kicked out and connected with Sazon's face. There was a sickening crunch as Sazon fell to the ground.

Jon jumped in the air and brought his sword down in a thrust. Sazon quickly rolled away and Jon's sword imbedded in the earth. He yanked it out as Sazon caught his breath. His nose was crooked and bleeding heavily.

"Well fought," Sazon said, spitting blood. "But now you die, Astuarian."

He roared and charged him with lightning fast speed. The blows came in a blur. Jon blocked each one just in time. He could hear the silence of the crowd as they held their breath.

Jon grimaced as he let Sazon cut him across the thigh. The wound spurred Sazon on more. Jon barely had to pretend to be pressed as Sazon came at him with an incredible speed.

What a warrior, Jon thought in amazement.

Sazon's sword slipped through. The sound of flesh being spit open reverberated over the crow. Jon slumped over, his shoulder leaning against Sazon's chest.

Sazon's sword was sticking in the air, next to Jon's back. The crowd roared and thundered.

"NO!' Ashford's voice could be heard calling.

Jon jerked suddenly. The crowed fell quiet.

Jon stepped back calmly. Sazon's sword was only pressed against his side and sticking in the air. The angle the crowd saw looked as though Jon had been impaled.

But it was Sazon with a sword sticking out his back.

"I'm sorry," Jon said quietly. He tossed Sazon's sword aside and withdrew his own blade from Sazon's stomach.

Sazon stared down at his wound in wonder. His hand shook as it came away, dripping dark red blood to the dry earth. He looked up at Jon, stunned.

Sazon's face contorted into rage as he roared, louder than ever before. Jon jumped into the air, his blade spinning in a blur. He landed on one knee, his sword extended out from his body, blood spraying the air in a fine mist.

Sazon gurgled as the deep cut in his throat poured out his life's blood. He dropped to his knees, his eyes bulging, and collapsed to the ground.

Jon stood up and shook the drops of blood from his sword.

Ashford walked up to him. "I thought he almost had you," he said hoarsely, his face white.

"That's what he thought, too," Jon replied.

He turned to look at the soldiers surrounding them. Sazon's lieutenants sat on top of their horses, faces still and unreadable. Slowly, they began to clap. The army took it up. Soon, the desert shook to the thunderous applause of the warriors.

"Hail, Chieftain Jon of the Tribe of the Desert Scorpion!"

Jon smiled.

***

Evelyn, despite her anxiety, couldn't help but feel nervous and excited as she stood in the entrance hall of the palace. The beauty and the pageantry of the wedding had startled her.

Trumpets blared outside, as did the voices of the assembled crowd. Several important nobles talked excitedly as they walked out the entrance door and down the wide, gold carpet. They would arrange themselves around the podium to act as honor guards.

Evelyn nervously rubbed the wonderful fabric of her dress while she waited her turn. The dress had fit her perfectly. It had long sleeves and left a respectful amount of her breasts bare. Her face and hands were the only other body parts showing. The voluminous dress covered the rest of her.

The train of the dress was so long that it required three servants to lift it as she walked. The servants all wore simple gowns of pure white and were suppose to blend into the background.

"Absolutely magnificent," a voice breathed from behind her.

Evelyn turned her head and gasped. Reynar stood behind her, dressed in an exquisite outfit of white and gold. The colors clashed somewhat with his dark brown skin, but not enough to be unsettling. His dark hair was combed artfully to the side. He was very handsome indeed. Evelyn blushed as she bowed her head.

"Thank you, my liege," she said humbly.

Reynar raised her face with his fingers. His dark eyes drank in her face hungrily. "You never have to address me as 'my liege,' again. Please, call me Reynar."

"I can't!" Evelyn said, horrified. "We are not yet wed, my liege. It would be improper of me."

"I see," Reynar said, a sad smile on his face. "May the God grant us a good wedding so that I may hear my name spoken on your lips."

"My liege," Evelyn said, blushing again. She glanced around nervously at the remaining nobles in the room. They were very politely engaged in their own conversations.

"Evelyn, I must ask you one more time, before it's too late. Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

"Yes," Evelyn said without hesitation. "My decision has been made. This is the right thing to do. Besides," Evelyn added, gesturing to the open door. "I don't think the people would let us leave here alive without getting married."

Reynar smiled, though Evelyn thought it looked strained. "Don't worry, I would protect you."

Evelyn tilted her head. There was something wrong with his face and with his words. "Are you ok, my liege?"

Reynar waved his hand. "Not to worry, my dear Evelyn. It's nothing. Just some last minute nerves, that's all."

Evelyn nodded, though she still wasn't quite convinced. She let it go. She had something more important to ask him. She stepped closer and lowered her voice as quietly as she could.

"My liege...have you had time to figure out our...er...situation?"

Reynar looked at her blankly for several moments before his eyes widened in understanding. He kept his voice just as quiet.

"My lady, please forgive me, but I'm afraid other matters of state have captured my attention these past few days."

"It's ok!," Evelyn said, her voice reaching a higher octave than normal. "Don't worry about! I know you have the war with the Magi Victus weighing heavily on your mind. We will just...figure something out tonight."

Reynar looked troubled. He looked sideways nervously but nobody was left in the entrance hall except Evelyn's servants. "Evelyn, I'm afraid we have--"

"My lord, it's time," a voice called sharply.

Reynar looked up, his mouth twisting briefly in anger before the courtly mask was back in place. "Thank you, Sereph. Evelyn, please take my arm."

Evelyn placed a shaky hand on his left forearm and began to walk towards the door. Her servants quickly picked up her train and walked behind her.

Reynar's manservant, Sereph, bowed low as they passed. His eyes considered her briefly before he lowered them respectfully.

Evelyn stepped out of the doors and into bright sunshine. The royal guards stood at attention on either side of the carpet, their swords held high over their heads, like a canopy.

Evelyn looked at the swords nervously as she passed underneath them. The guards, in their shining silver breastplates and gold coats, never so much as glanced at her.

Soon they passed the canopy of swords and approached the gates that led into the Courtyard of the Twelve.

It was here, near the walls of the palace, that the sound truly hit her in full force. Her stomach fluttered as the noise threatened to stop her in her tracks.

Reynar smiled kindly down at her and tugged her hand. She took a deep breath and stepped forward with him. They passed through the gates and into the courtyard.

The crowd roared as they caught sight of them for the first time. Evelyn's stomach churned horribly as sweat began to bead on her forehead.

She had never seen so many people in her life who were focused on her. Evelyn was grateful to hold onto the rock that was Reynar's forearm. The man was use to this kind of scrutiny.