New Title 32 (34 page)

I laughed. “Sounds like an excellent start. Enjoy your new life.” I waved and disconnected the video session.

Only one remaining loose end to tighten up. I poured three fingers of scotch into a glass and opened the document holding my wedding vows. I downed half the scotch, but it didn’t help. The page was still blank.

Here Comes the Bride

The troll harrumphed, and bared tobacco-stained fangs at me. “You no right say no! We go in! Look-see, now!” She drove a bony claw into my shoulder to reinforce her point. Her two little troll lackeys clawed and hissed at me, nodding in agreement.

I planted my heel against the wedding chapel door and tried to smile. “This is a private function, ladies. Not part of the conference. You were not invited. You need to leave and not come back, or I will call security.” I kept glaring at the trolls until they turned back into middle-aged women in polyester stretch pants. I was relieved to see them change; I didn’t want to risk getting into a spell battle with a real troll.

“These passes promise full access to all convention functions, sonny, and the convention takes up the entire hotel! Now, let us through or I’ll have your job so goddamn fast your ass will have scorch marks, got it?” She shoved forward, pinning me against the door while she poked her fingers into my chest. This close, she reeked of Crème de Menthe and too much perfume. I started focusing power into casting the imperative form, intent on ordering her to shower and sleep it off.

Two security guards came to my rescue, corralling all three ladies and hauling them off to cool down. I picked up the laundry bag with my costume in it and slipped into the wedding chapel.

All but a handful of public areas in the Trove were based off of in-game locations. The chapel was one of the few exceptions. It was designed by architects who created churches for a living. Gordon asked for something that felt sacred without the trappings of holiness, something universally spiritual without being religious.

They gave him an open sanctuary with a vaulted glass ceiling supported by honey-barked trees sprouting a sheltering canopy of oak-like leaves. Even the most overpowering desert sunshine was blocked or diffused into a gentle, verdant glow. The spacing of the tree trunks gave the room a classical Greek feel, as though you were visiting the Parthenon. The pews were golden oak and carved with knotwork triskelions. The pulpit was a piece of emerald granite shot with dark forest-green veins. It stood like a moss-wrapped menhir in an ancient sacred grove.

For the wedding, sprays of lilac, columbine, and violet foxgloves circled the base of each tree. African violets lined the aisle, clustered at the base of each pew, while wisteria sprays draped the walls.

I had to stand and take it all in for a while. We would never not be in love. We would never fail to understand one another’s wants, needs, or desires. We would be bound, always, by more than oaths and rings. But this was the meaningful act, in front of our families and friends. I took a deep breath and asked a woman holding a clipboard where my changing room was.

Of course she knew where it was. She had the clipboard. People with clipboards have all the answers.

My outfit was simple. Russet velvet doublet with a diamond pattern embroidered on it in gold thread, black pants, black boots. I didn’t know what I would be allowed to wear until after Rose had her first dress fitting, and even then all I got was a list of matching options to choose from. My one and only duty was to put on a clean pair of black socks this morning, and I succeeded admirably.

My groomsmen, Josh, Terry, and Eli, were old high school gaming buddies. In school, we were four dateless dorks obsessed with playing games. Now, we’re all working in the gaming industry, in love with some wonderful ladies, and living in our own homes. So much for that stereotype.

With half an hour to go, our officiant stopped in to see how I was doing. Gaar was from Aerin’s world, one of the adventurers who had come to Earth with Angus back in the sixties. At least English wasn’t an issue for him. He was a senior priest of Crom, and looked like a retired gladiator. Tall, huge muscles, battle scars, and an aura of absolute self-confidence. He was wearing bright silver full plate armor, blazoned across the chest with a smith’s hammer striking an anvil.

He clasped my hands and said, “How are you feeling, son? Still trembling and ready to shit yourself?”

I laughed and said, “No, that’s one problem I don’t have. How are you at writing wedding vows on short notice?”

“Damn good, as long as I’m writing them for myself.” He laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. “Your vows aren’t for the audience. They’re for her. Tell her how you feel. That’s all you need do. Even if you think she knows it already, you should still say it. As long as you say what you feel, what you say won’t be wrong.”

As hokey as it sounded, it did help. Everything I’d come up with was an attempt to talk to the audience and explain how I felt, rather than being a promise to Rose herself. I checked the clock on the wall. “Oh, hey, twenty minutes left. Plenty of time.”

Gaar stood up. “Ten minutes, actually. If it helps, Rose wants to do her vows first.”

I stood up too. “Then I should get in a bathroom break. Who knows? The perfect speech might leap to mind.” It didn’t, but I felt more relaxed as we went out to the chapel and took our positions by the pulpit.

Even with the rehearsals we’d done, I got the shivers when the opening bars of “O Fortuna” sounded and the choir began singing...

O Fortuna,

Velut luna,

Statu variabilis…

The music and choir softened into a slow, measured rumble, matching pace with the bridesmaids as they came up the aisle.

Ember, Miriam, and Yuki—one of Rose’s friends from her dance company—were wearing long sleeved gowns of variegated silk, with billowing dark green skirts that changed to light green and amber above the waist. The bodices were close-fitting, with strong, straight lines accented with dusty-gold lace panels from the neckline down almost to the waist. They were Elvish work, measured and resized for Human proportions.

The ladies took position by the pulpit, and Gaar stepped forward. The music surged into a thundering overture and he swept his arms up, signaling the audience to stand as Rose and her father entered the chapel. It was my first look at the dress as well, and for a few moments I was very glad all I had to do was stand there.

Rose’s dress was crushed velvet in bold crimson, embroidered with gold thread crisscrossing diagonally to form diamond patterns on the sleeves and the side panels of her skirt. The points of the each diamond were marked with a brilliant leaded glass crystal in a gold setting. The bodice was sleeveless, smooth leather, covered with gold filigree and sparkling leaded crystals. The lower edge of the bodice shimmered with rows of dangling gold coins. She had a belt of gold chains, and gold dragonscale gauntlets on her forearms.

A royal purple mantle fell from her shoulders to the floor. As she walked, the edges billowed just enough to show the dress was backless. Her bouquet used royal purple roses accented with sprays of delicate silver flowers, neither of them from Earth. Her hair swirled around her like a second mantle, moving and waving in a wind no one else could feel.

She was beautiful, and awful, and glorious to behold. Should she cross paths with a hurricane, the wind would bow before her and beg her pardon.

She kept her pace timed to the music, reaching my side as the closing fanfare sounded. Her father gave her an ‘I hope you know what you’re doing’ look before placing her hand in mine. He gave me a reluctant nod and went to sit down.

“Please be seated.” Gaar set a large, iron-bound book on the pulpit, but didn’t open it. “As a child, if anyone had asked me what the best part of being a priest was, I would have said it was having access to the sacramental wine. Now, with the wisdom of years, I know the wine is…probably third, maybe fourth on the list. This time, this duty, this…privilege, of uniting people in the recognition of their feelings for one another—this is the best part of the job.

“Marriage exists everywhere, among all people. It exists in many forms, some familiar, some very different from what we know. What defines marriage is not its form but its purpose, and that purpose is the public recognition of a private decision. No law defines your marriage, or tells you when it’s working. No custom can tell you who the right person is, and no teacher or oracle can lead you to the right choice. For that, we look to ourselves, to our family and friends, to divine guidance, and, of course, to luck.”

“I can’t say if anyone decided David and Rose should meet; I don’t know any gods who post on social media. But, regardless of whether it was luck or divine will or destiny, meet they did, and they’ve been shaking the pillars of Heaven on a regular basis since then. It’s worked out so well, they decided it was just and right for them to proceed to take up the bonds of marriage, and make formal what, up until now, simply was.”

He paused, a roguish smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’m told I need to ask if anyone has just cause to object to this union, but, no. Not going to do it. Anyone who objected should have done so a while back. If you couldn’t be arsed to speak up before now, don’t bother. You lose.” He laughed and clapped his hands.  So, onward!”

“One of the rules that come with this job is that you have to say something pithy and inspiring on what makes marriage work. Most of the time, you’re likely to hear something about the symbolism of the marriage rings. Crom thinks that’s boring. This is what we talk about…” He reached down behind the pulpit and unsheathed a two-handed sword larger than Kindness. He held it above his head, blade horizontal, turning it so the audience could get a good look.

“Rings…rarely have a purpose beyond their existence. They might be beautiful, or valuable, but they’re rarely functional. Marriages have purpose, just as swords have purpose. They can help you do great things, and they can fail—usually for the same reason.

“They fail, not because they are weak, but because they are too strong. A sword needs to be hard, but only in places. The edge of the blade must be hard, or it can’t be sharpened. But, if you hardened the entire sword to the same degree you harden the edges, that sword will shatter. The core of the blade must remain flexible in order to absorb the shock of incoming blows and spring back in to shape. That is the secret of a good sword, and a strong marriage. Yield, and you will triumph.”

Gaar sheathed the sword and clasped his hands together. “All forms of marriage, in all times and places, have certain components, certain acts and rituals, in common. The most fundamental of those is the declaration of love itself. Rose, please take David’s hands and speak your heart.”

Rose took a deep breath and let it out. When she spoke, her voice was low and throaty, as though she were giving Confession. “David, when I left home, I had no idea what I would encounter or who I was going to meet. I wasn’t sure what kind of person I wanted to be with. When I saw you, I was terrified to speak with you; afraid I would do or say something strange and scare you off. Instead, you…embraced me. All that I am, you welcomed. You gave me love, and wonder, and…trust. It was more than I had dreamed I would find.

“Being bound together by your culture and customs is…something new. I’m terrified of the idea, but more frightened of failing. Even so, every time I feel fear creep up on me, I think back to the night we met, and I’m not afraid anymore.”

Rose gave my hands a quick, powerful squeeze. “On countless worlds, bards and storytellers weave tales of adventure and daring, hoping to delight the crowd and win coins for their efforts. They love telling tales of Dragons and those who seek to slay them because everyone knows only the strongest and bravest warriors would dare battle a Dragon. However, only a true Hero would dare marry one. You, David, are one such Hero, and this is my testimony to you.”

I felt power flow through her, and I realized what the mantle was for—and why her gown was backless.

She was unfolding her wings.

She couldn’t bring them in at full-size, but even scaled to her body they were impressive. She extended them as high as she could without knocking into anything and held them there. No one panicked or started screaming. A few people looked alarmed, but most people nodded or murmured something approving, so the rest accepted it as well.

“David, my Hero, you have dared and done things that would freeze the hearts of lesser men. You have defeated every adversary who dared challenge you, and through it all you have remained honorable, kind, generous, and merciful.”

Rose brought my fingers to her lips and kissed them. “With you, I have fought demons, made dreams real, rescued the innocent, and touched the lives of the children I cannot have. None of these would have happened without you in my life. Therefore…”

Rose took a deep breath. “On this day, in this place, with these friends assembled, I who am called Glittering Heart of the Midnight Sun Rose, Shining Diamond-Bright Across Meadow and Peak to Mirror the Eternal Firmament, do bind myself to you, David Fraser, for as long as the wind and sky endure, for only with you may my heart fly free.”

Gaar said, “David, Rose has spoken her heart. Do you accept her love into your safekeeping and promise to respect her thoughts, needs, person, and spirit as you respect your own, so long as you both shall love?”

I bowed my head and kissed her fingers as she had mine. “I do.”

“Very well. Speak your heart to her.”

Inside, my mind was racing flat-out, but the wheels were off the road and grabbing nothing but air. All I could think of was, “Just try not to suck”.

Tell her how you feel. That’s all you need do.
Gaar’s advice rang true. Besides, I had no better idea to work with.

I gazed at Rose and said, “If I have become stronger, it is because you have inspired me. If I have done great things, it is your belief that made those deeds possible. I had no wings of my own with which to soar, so you lifted me up with yours. It is your flame that warms my heart, and your touch is worth more to me than gold or jewels. It is my deepest wish to be with you always, as long as wind and sky endure, for only with you shall my heart fly free.”