Sunday Showcase: September 2013

What with Baby Smith's cold and his corresponding rejection of anything sleep-related, I haven't got a great deal of writing done recently; but I have, at least, managed a little bit of editing. 

Here's the scene from Dawn Rising where Oriana is about to be married to the man who killed her mother. My difficulty with Oriana is that I'm always afraid people will read her as weak or passive. She isn't: she's badly hurt, out of options and being controlled by someone with far more power and cruelty than she possesses. Sometimes, strength can be as simple as refusing to let our tears fall. (Sometimes it can be as simple as letting them fall, but that's another story.) Anyway, I'd welcome your comments and/or criticism.

Stepping through the final archway, we emerge into the courtyard. It is a still, clear evening; the Guardians would not allow rain to spoil their Highest Lady’s wedding. The blue light of hundreds of candles flickers around the walls, dancing on the falling droplets of the fountain. Ahead, the Great Hall is a fantastic shape in the shadows, myriad carvings tumbling over each other on its weathered stone face. A flight of steps lined with pillars leads up to the vast double doors through which lies the realm of the Guardians, masters of Water … and somewhere inside, Ifor is waiting.

I look up at the familiar building, and what was once reassuring now seems an object of pure menace. Terror wrenches at me; I stumble on the first step, clutching my father’s arm for support. As we climb towards the hall I try to distract myself by focusing on the patterns that cover wall and door. I loved the mystery of them, as a child. I used to gaze at the lines in the wood, the shapes in the stone, inventing images and stories from what I saw. But now they blur in front of my eyes and all I see is wood and stone, just wood and stone and the darkness that lies beyond.

We reach the top of the steps, and the doors swing open. The hall on the other side is cavernous, filled with shadows that the single candle at the far end cannot dispel. There Keeper Chen waits, Ifor with him, their faces made unfamiliar by candlelight. As Father leads me around the long table with its nine stone seats, my heavy feet falter as though they sense my reluctance.

The first part of the ceremony washes over me without a shred of meaning. Chen speaks the ritual words, but I find no understanding of them; I kneel frozen, deafened and blinded by fear, and am conscious of nothing but Ifor kneeling beside me, close, so close. When asked to take the ring of hair from Ifor’s finger I obey with shaking hands. The Keeper sets a flame to the two rings, my own red-brown hair mingled with Ifor’s golden strands; the acrid reek of it burns sharp in my lungs.

“Do you have the lianthis?” Chen asks. Ifor draws it from an inside pocket: an intricate band of interlocking stone, set with sapphire and onyx. His loving glance belied only by the amused curl of his mouth, he slips it onto my wrist. The closing of the clasp is like a thousand teeth cutting into my flesh. I look down to see blood trickling from beneath the stone, soaking the sleeve of my wedding dress. As the band tightens and the gnawing sensation intensifies, tears rise in a flood behind my eyes – but I force them back. I will not cry. Not now. Not yet.

“Thus you are bound together by Sapphire law,” Chen announces, oblivious. “This is an eternal bond; it may never be broken.” Stepping back, he gestures to us to rise. Beyond him, the door to the Inner Shrine stands open.

“Most high lord. Keeper.” Ifor bows to my father and to Chen in turn. Then he grasps me by the wrist, grinding the lianthis even deeper into my flesh, and leads me away.

The door at the far end of the Inner Shrine is open, the Sapphire’s blue light spilling through. I look at it in despair. Most of the time only the Guardians and Keeper are allowed to see the Sapphire; the last time I saw it was the day of Mama’s funeral, after her body was laid to rest in the crypt. Then it brought me peace, but now I am beyond even its reach. I stand frozen beside the pool in the middle of the room while Ifor closes the heavy door to the main hall and bolts it. Candles encircle the water, and blankets have been laid down on the cold stone floor by one wall. Ifor turns to me and smiles.

“Happy wedding day, Oriana.”