I don't want to post the title here.

Please note: words that are meant to be italicized are not italicized. This is the middle of my book, so you can't expect it to be 100% clear. I just want to know what people think of my writing style. Also note that Ericasi and Casi are the same person. Leon and Leonliam are also the same person. Thank you.

         





Handfasting

A round building constructed of grey stones sat upon the heath overlooking a restless ocean occupied by three icebergs shining bluely in the moonlight. The temple overlooked the cape that hosted the benighted borough, whose citadel and houses shone in their lancets and casements with firelight viewable from in excess of a mile away. An orchestra of late seagulls and churning ocean waves determined the ambience of what would be a most pivotal evening.

Stepping out of a black and royal and crested caravan, entering a brisk and starry night, Albay found himself incapable of appreciating the very dreamy temple and its surrounding scenery. No resplendence or galas or nature at its grandest or loveliest could come near compensating for his impoverishment of Ericasi. Albay kept her in his foremost mind, longsuffering the moments until he would forfeit her love and company forever. He did not know if visiting the domicile of his religion gave him the additional strength that he needed to maintain his calm composure, but he knew that having Léonliam at his side made it all the more imperative that he did.

Several caravans parked on the heath, and many still came from Heather Borough, whose drawbridge usually sat in the upright and closed position by nightfall, but lay openly on that night for purposes pertaining to the event. Most of the caravans belonged to the members of the court, including the Rubicunds, whom Albay viewed arriving at the front of the temple without Casi. He watched from a distance as Eriden aided his wife Kallena into the cold evening, and he saw young Hethred hop out with the ease granted to one in their youth. Albay sighed with chagrin, as he daydreamt of the family that he might have gained.

Feeling someone tug on the back of his bent elbow, Albay turned to see Léonliam holding his arm, trying to persuade him to enter the temple. Simpering uncomfortably, bowing his sore head respectfully, Albay permitted Léon to drag him until they entered the place that would birth his lifelong sorrow. He placed one hand upon his forehead faithfully as they came through the tall double iron doors of the megalithic building. He checked to see if Léonliam did it as well, but discovered that he did not. Albay most usually pondered upon why Léonliam shunned the faith shared by all the peoples of Unigard, but after the conversation that they had just shared in the donjon, he had not the need to give it another thought.

Ericasi, sighed Albay in his thoughts, as he had over and over again since the night that he had painstakingly rejected her.

“How is your head?” inquired Léonliam.

“I will walk it off,” said Albay. “I am sure to feel mineself by the hour that we drink to your union. I cannot wait for that.”

“Neither can I,” said Léonliam. He turned his full attention to the temple. “Look at this place,” scoffed he. “The damn walls are caving in. I see not why I must fasten mine hand in such a lorn location when not even mine parents bound their hands under this crumbling roof.”

“Mayhap the ceiling would not be crumbly, and the walls not quite concaved, if the temples received funding,” said Albay, though he knew himself to be talking doughtily once more. If all and any temples received funding, it would have only come from the king, knew Albay certainly. He kept talking so that Léonliam would not have an opportunity to correct him. “Besides, cousin, I thought we came to an agreement. I bind your hands, and you do it beneath this roof, where the gods and their wives watch the most diligently.” Albay tilted his head backwards to gaze through the monstrous gapes in the cracked and high and domed ceiling. He mouthed a little prayer for his sanity.

“They watch so much more than what occurs under this roof,” said Léonliam, guiding Albay towards a dais.

On the dais sat an altar of see-through stone. Albay put his hand upon it. “The sunstone—the gem of mine mother’s people,” said he.

“Having a moment of pride for your light elf heritage?” asked Léonliam.

Albay nodded. “Everyone should be proud of their people. The moment a people loses pride in themselves is the moment that people ceases to exist,” said he almost philosophically.

“You consider the light elves your people?” asked Léonliam.

“One of mine peoples,” answered Albay.

“Hmm, what a shame it is that the deities do not lose pride in themselves. How pleasurable it must be to be divine and immortal as they are. You know, mine ilk is very similar to the deities who live in the heavens, but they never would share their great technologies with us dark elves. They have kept both of the elf clans in ignorance for eons spanning far back into the Old Age.”

Albay glanced around lest anyone had heard, but the guests only began to file into the temple, and most of them partook in conversations that rendered his discourse with the king inaudible. All of the nobility knew of the king’s elfishness anyway, but no one would talk of it due to either fear or its illegality. Some of the common people knew of it also, and some of them chose not to believe it at all. It remained an unorthodox truth, which made it excessively more uncomfortable for Léonliam’s subjects when he spoke about it freely in their presence.

Albay sighed. “I think light elves are just as supreme as the dark elves,” opinionated he.

“Oh, I make no denial of that,” replied Léon. “You expect that to rile me to anger, but no, I actually agree with you, Albay. We Domhavals have always seen a potential in light elves. It is shameful that our races cannot get along better, but I will mend that in due time, and then I will have an army fit to—never mind.”

“Léon, whatever you are planning, unless it is for the appeasement of the deities, I want no part in it,” said Albay. “I humbly ask you to treat the gods and goddesses with respect.”

“Hmm,” hummed Léonliam, and he stuck his nose up in the air.

Albay smiled politely, lowered his head, and gazed into the big and round chamber through his faint eyelashes. The space glowed in orange with hundreds of candles, which burnt on tall and brass candleholders, struggling against the heavy and frigid drafts to keep alighted. People seated themselves upon frozen stone pews, and snowdrifts floated across the floor, benumbing their ankles.

“Have you mine ribbons on your person?” wondered Léonliam.

Pressing his hand to his tunic pocket, inside which he felt the ribbons rolled up in a little ball, Albay nodded his reply.

“Good,” said Léonliam with a half-smile. “Nothing can go awry. I want to be done with this. I detest pageantry.”

“Your coronation said otherwise,” said Albay to be cheeky.

Léonliam snarled yet directed his attention at the pews, saying no more. Albay observed Léon shifting back and forth uncomfortably, clenching and holding his hands away from his sides, as if he prepared to kill any potential attacker. Albay discerned that the king’s paranoia always grew worse whenever he left the safety of his citadel. He could not help but feel sorry for Léon, and with that, Albay discovered his own selflessness, for he actively considered the welfare of another on the eve that his heart would break.

No one disagreed of the Ladyling of Spinney looking lovely. The gods and their wives had created Ericasi to be a rare treasure, who others would service and worship with admiration. All and everyone and anyone of substance saw her. Ericasi emerged in a large doorway at the front of the temple, as a blue moon haloed behind her and the two women in her company, making the three of them appear like silhouetted forms.

With their white furs dragging behind them, Eriden and Kallena hurriedly walked from their seats to the fore of the temple, where they joined their daughter. Each received one of her hands in theirs. Dedicatedly watching her, Albay gulped in nervous anticipation, and the thyroid gland in his throat jumped. He knew that Ericasi would stand in front of him in just a moment from then, and he tried to prepare himself for it, but nothing in the world could ready him for the unavoidable awkwardness that would surely arise during the imminent encounter.

Eriden ahead of Ericasi and Kallena behind, the Rubicunds ventured an o-shaped path. They started round those seated on the pews, followed closely by Ericasi’s new retinue of women. They walked around everyone. The ceremonious path would eventually take Ericasi to the shrine in the center of the temple—to Albay.

During the most distressing journey through the round hall, Casi searched for Albay among the guests, knowing with all her heart that he had to be present. The way her head turned from side to side and over her shoulder looked all but inconspicuous. She felt frantic to locate him, for she held on to the hope that Albay would profess his love for her, thus saving her from unifying with Léonliam. Albay had to, thought she, for this could not be her fate.

Amidst her erratic lurches, Casi noticed the effigies of dead kings standing watch from their sarcophagi. Their stone eyes looked down on her with forebodingness. Torches struggling to burn on the walls and braziers amidst the pews cast haunting shadows on their faces, but otherwise lit the large chamber decently. No amount of fire could heat a building half-open to the elements.

Underneath a veil of black, Ericasi fought to keep her emotions from betraying her dignity, as a sting formed under her bottom eyelids. As she fought hard to withhold tears, her vocal cords hummed, though thankfully for her ears alone. She could neither help herself nor ward off her heartbreak. Nigh to her destiny, she drew, with all and any hope of Albay’s intervention fading, fading, fading…

At the space where she would bind her hand, Ericasi at last imbibed the presence of the High Lord of Calestuary. It dismayed her much to find him standing next to Léonliam, engaging him in a conversation, laughing too. It had been the last place that she had thought to look for him. In spite of the veil obstructing her vision, she eyed intently at his countenance. Albay composedly maintained an unfeeling expression, inflicting on her even more emotional injury. She knew then that he had completely forsaken her.

Eriden and Kallena halted close to the shrine to offer their respect to Léon. Casi also stopped, but took an involuntary step backwards. When her father took hold of her arm, a terrible wave of panic ran through her, for she by then knew that her escape had become impossible. Eriden passed her arm off to the tall person in front of them. She could not view him properly through her veil, but her heart knew it to be Léonliam. Ericasi accepted his hand. His skin felt neither too cold nor too hot. He had a gentle grip, and that brought her the minutest comfort at that direst of all moments.

Soon from then, Léon would be her husband, thought Casi. Angst caused by the expectations that he would have of her, and the fear caused by the unknowing of his character seemed the worst among her myriad of worries and emotions. She trembled against him, shaking his lengthy arm. His bicep flexed in pulsations in response, so she made a conscious effort not to squeeze him.

She prayed that he would not lift her veil, but with his other hand, he did just that. He pulled it back slowly, revealing her traumatised face too soon for her preparedness. Ericasi looked to him with shamed eyes that pleaded release from the condemnation of espousing him. She shook like a leaf, as it would cling to its mother tree on an autumn day, as if ready to fall to the ground and wither. His electrifying eyes held onto hers like a negative charge.

Léonliam had changed into military attire, for many deemed that the most appropriate for the occasion. He wore ringmail and gold plates, and overtop of them, he displayed the crimson tabard with the salient, black lion on the chest. He only lacked in a golden helm with the red and black plume, for he had the black hide belt and sheath with a gold-hafted sword like the ones worn by the nobles of his army. Golden helms looked so much less grand next to the red heather diadem on King Léonliam’s head. It sparkled like a billion red giant stars when he stooped his head to his future wife.

“Many blessings on Your Intelligence,” said Léonliam.

“And Your Sentience,” replied Ericasi in her voice that she learnt then to be starting to break.

He brought her to the man who would fasten their hands. Blood-red cloaks of wool adorned templekeepers, and this particular man had a fat body that looked like an apple. From what Casi could see of him, since he kept his face hidden under his hood, he looked like a man of noble birth, and a disciplined one also. Templekeepers resided year-round in their temples, and many froze to death in the winters.

Ericasi gulped and discreetly eyed at Albay, who by then stood but the breadth of an arm away from her, seeming to ignore her existence. Looking down from his supposed snub, Ericasi put her hand about her own throat and squeezed ruthlessly. She needed to do something about the sounds coming from her throat. Choking herself into silence should have worked, thought she, but no cure came from it. She only provoked a fit of violent coughing, which disturbed peace, creating a disgraceful episode that lasted until she dry heaved. Casi felt someone smack her in the back, though she did not know who had done it, for she felt too ashamed to look and see. If she had have looked, she would have learnt that the templekeeper had done it to help alleviate her coughs. It proved to be just what she needed, a cure for coughs and stubborn vocal cords.

Albay let his gaze upon Ericasi; he could not help himself. He saw her buck up with hope, and right then, he realised what a mistake it had been to pay her any deference. She would think that he meant to intercede, stop her from fastening her hand to the king, but no such thing did Albay dare do. He had neither abandoned his resolve nor changed his mind. He looked away again and no more became of it. He resumed a gaze of apathy and stood with at-attention posture like the captain many knew him to be. He felt very pulchritudinous and contemptible, not filled with the dolour that he should have felt. He diverted his attention to a brass bell hanging in the cupola high above the pews, and he thanked the deities in his mind for relieving him of his pain. Maybe a predisposition for self-control and a history of war permitted him to abandon his emotions and let nothing ever weaken him.

The templekeeper spoke in a haunting and mysterious voice that seemed like an incantation meant to invoke something wonderful. “Deities of the One Empire, the Emperors and Empresses of the Multiverses hereby agree to and will the unification of King Shayd’s son, Léonliam, the King of Heath of the House of Domhaval, and Lord Eriden’s daughter, Ericasi, the Ladyling of Spinney of the House of Rubicund,” said he. “If any Heathen man, woman, or child, or any other of any other race or species can testify to flaw or affectation in the ladyling’s chastity or fidelity, or the king’s ability of husbandry or protection, inform us now, otherwise let us proceed without disruption.”

Ericasi looked up and Albay looked down to a point where their eyes met, locked. He could almost hear her screaming at him. He stared her dead in her eyes with not a discernible emotion on his face. Her expression went from sullen to horrified. Albay could no longer bear to watch, so he turned his gaze away to somewhere in the crowd, confirming to both her and himself that he would be making no remark of chastity or fidelity or husbandry or protection on that night. In his heart, he felt his right to call himself an elf or a man snatched away at that moment, for he realised that had he been truly either, he would have challenged his king for the woman whom he loved. It would not have mattered in the least that his personality usually gravitated towards the behaviours displayed by a humble servant, whose very being opposed any treasonous or unrighteous thoughts, he contrarily thought. Had he been a true man—a true elf—he would have fell on his knees before Léonliam and professed his love for Ericasi despite the consequences. Albay bowed his head in shame.

In front of the sunstone shrine, Léonliam lowered to his knees similarly to the way Albay had just thought to, but he brought Ericasi down with him. Over them towered a white-wooded arbour, from which spiralled, dark vines draped, framing the couple in a leafless jungle. Upon the shrine, a statue of bronze stood tall. The statue bore the likeness of a one-eyed man, whose hair fell to his broad shoulders, framing his long and bearded face. He donned a hooded cloak like the one that the templekeeper wore, and a black cummerbund. However, people knew the man to be no man at all. Odin, they called him, a high god whom men worshipped as the father of all things, including every god and goddess. He had died during Ragnarök, only for New Age men to revere him evermore, and refer to him as His Omniscience—one who is everywhere, and sees and hears and feels and knows everything.

Ericasi put her elbows on the cold surface of the sunstone, and placed her forehead upon her palms. She felt the snow touching her exposed ankles, but her women soon enough covered her with the train of her dress. Behind her hands and through her eyelashes, she dedicatedly watched Albay. She decided that he hated her, for he did not look upset, the way that she herself felt and knew herself to appear.

The templekeeper began to tell an abridged history of Heath and its people. He started at Ragnarök, mentioned the melting of the ice that had at one time clothed the whole world, and then finally reached the Age of Kings, which ultimately led him to speak favourably of Léon. He put his gelid palms on their foreheads, and he said, “In the clear view of His Omniscience, I vouchsafe the sentience of the King of Heath to be jointly shared with the chaste ladyling, whose duty it is to assist him in bearing the knowledge and weight put upon all monarchs. Likewise, I take the callowness of the Ladyling of Spinney to invest in our most magnanimous king, whose duty it is to assist her in coming into the wisdom of monarchs. Rise afore the deities currently.”

Léon rose and gently upreared Ericasi by her arm. He turned her by the shoulders to face him. Albay could not see her eyes readily, for Ericasi refused to look up, and he assumed that she hated him too verily to look at him. He admitted to himself that she had a good cause to hate him.

“At His Sentience’s request, here comes forth the High Lord of Calestuary to bind their hands in union with the ribbons used by all who are faithful to the gods and their wives,” said the templekeeper.

Casi finally regarded him, and Albay wanted to die the worst possible death that a person can die when he saw the horrification in her red and bulging eyes. She stared at him with the question shouting at him from her steadfast gaze. Why be you the doer of this to me? As he approached, Albay just looked right through her, beyond her, having no idea of what else to do. As soon as he took the ribbons from his pocket, his confliction faded into comfortable numbness. Taking the position of the templekeeper, watching Ericasi shut her eyes finally release a few tears, Albay saw Léon align his wrist with hers.

Albay looked down at the ribbons, which he had tied into a slipknot to ensure that they all stayed together. As he pulled at the knot, he looked at Ericasi’s hand, and he discerned that the cold had made her fingers shrivel into white and bloodless sticks. Albay yearned to warm her skin with his own, for he felt himself to be more tepid than a wintry sunray despite the nippy weather.

Ericasi could not even look at the high lord’s face. Silence befell the chamber, as if everyone and everything with the wind included held their breath. She eyed down at their hands—hers pale and Léonliam’s grey—while Albay tied the five ribbons about their wrists at the speed of agony. Her hair swept over her face, and a few strands became stuck on her tears, though she felt much too intoxicated by shock to even notice.

With the last ribbon tied, the templekeeper recited affiances that he asked the unifying pair to repeat. Ericasi stuttered through hers, which saw her plight to love Léon forever, giving her fealty to him and only him devotedly for life. Léon dissimilarly vowed, for males thought it more becoming of their gender to vow to keep their wives safe and dignified.

“The handfasting ribbons when removed will make this union official,” said the templekeeper to the assemblage. He then spun himself towards Albay. “Observance, if you are ready…”

Albay could never ever be ready for that task. He saw the betrayal on Ericasi’s visage, and he experienced the culpability for causing her to appear that way. After Albay had untied all save for one ribbon, Léon most roughly seized him by the wrist and pushed his hand away so that he could proceed to remove it himself. Léonliam ripped it off, causing friction burn to himself and Ericasi both. At her scathed hand, she looked with not a wince of pain. Blood drops began to fall into the snow at her feet. Albay no longer looked at her to notice. He could not look at her.

Albay worried that he displayed on his face what he felt in his heart. Casi paid him shamed glances prior Léonliam turned her back towards the people. She looked as if she realised that she had made the biggest mishap of her life, though no fault had she in what had come to pass. Albay knew then that the situation had fallen out of his hands. Léonliam wielded total control over Casi, and he could do nothing to cure it. Handfasting meant that one had irrevocably tethered himself or herself to their spouse for life.

Léonliam leant deeply forward with a straight back to kiss Ericasi upon the brow. That gesture made her belong to him for the rest of her days, knew Albay, feeling both burdened and relieved that it had all finally ended. He no longer had to dread losing Ericasi, for he had lost Ericasi.

I am so sorry, mine love.

Turning to the assemblage, “Good people of the court, let us presently return to the warmth of the citadel, where a feast awaits,” Léon almost sang across the temple operatically. Gesturing a hand at Ericasi, he stooped his head as he said, “The Queen of Heath.”

The people just started to applaud when Casi gave them cause to stop. A collective gasp even louder than the wind accompanied the dwindling and confused applause. Albay did not see what had happened until Ericasi impetuously whipped herself around to face him, hunching over with her stomach contents pouring out of her mouth. It appeared to be mostly water, descried Albay, taking a step backwards. Droplets unavoidably landed on his clean boots. He watched the two young women rush to their new mistress and take her arms to ensure continuity of her upright posture, but he noticed that they did not inquire after her wellbeing.

“I be well,” said Ericasi voluntarily, although no one had asked her. In fact, not a word came from either of the two women, and maybe more important than that, not an utterance came from Léon. Ericasi witnessed her king of a husband roll his eyes, scowl, and then storm off to the side door through which he and Albay had entered minutes before then. He left her behind when he went. Casi dry heaved and choked and coughed, feeling as if her heartbreak would be the death of her.

Albay’s conscience filled with dreadful guilt for the life to which his inactions had disposed her. What have I done? he asked himself. No, what have I not done?

Eyes blurred by tears, a nose stuffed with mucus and vomit, and ears deafened by wind and the words of the appalled people exiting the temple, Ericasi’s head felt as if it would explode. She looked to her family for comfort, but saw only her distraught mother and composed father and brother shaking their heads in flamboyant disapproval. She knew then that she had abashed her family and tarnished the Rubicund namesake forever.

Staring in a disbelieving trance until she felt a soft tug at her arm, Ericasi turned to see Albay next to her with an inscrutable, dead look on his face. “Your Sentience, I am the chief constable of the royal constabulary,” said he almost as if introducing himself to her for the very first time. “It will be mine pleasure to escort you and the King’s Sentience back to the court. Will you follow me, madam?”

The way that she looked unto him with that puzzled and disturbed expression, Albay wanted to kill himself right there and then—in front of her even. He found some relief when she looked down at the floor so unlike a queen. However, soon the magnanimity of Ericasi’s rank fell upon her realisation. Strength or maybe stubbornness ran through her like a current of electricity, and she knew then what she had to do. Albay never anticipated what happened next. Casi lashed her head upward to assail him with a most scornful leer. She witnessed his awestricken expression of bulging eyes and dropped jaw. His reaction proved too much for her to bear. Saying nothing to Albay, Ericasi chose to follow by Léonliam’s example. She stormed out of the temple, though nowhere near as fast as her elf of a husband had.