Chapter 41

Part 5

Theramin and Yzell stepped forth to a polite smattering of applause and made their measured way to the base of the podium. There Theramin took both of Yzell’s hands and kissed her cheek, she stepped aside out of the aisle, and he continued alone to the top tier of the podium and a bit to the far side, where he turned to face back down the aisle toward the door.

As Theramin had approached the podium, Dilimon had cautioned Mark; “Those out there cannot see in here, because the shadow of the doorway is magically enhanced, so that we will make a grander entrance when we step forth into the daylight. So don’t act surprised at their reaction.

“And know that the podium will start to rotate very slowly when all are in place upon it, and will make one full turn before the end of the ceremony, so that all will have a chance to see you from the front.

“As soon as Theramin is settled in place, go forth, keeping to the center of the aisle. And try not to walk too fast. I’d look silly having to jog to keep up.”

“Thanks.” Mark chuckled, and Dilimon’s light jest was perfectly timed, for it reduced his nervousness a bit just as the moment came to step out onto the soft, dense moss that floored the clearing.

As he emerged, Dilimon behind and to his left, the thousands of voices that were whispering and murmuring to each other suddenly fell completely silent, leaving the music seeming clearer and louder. Then just as suddenly they started up again with greater volume and intensity than before. Many spoke Elvish, but of those he could understand, most exclaimed at his size, though a few females were heard marveling at how cute or handsome he was, and there were more than a few angry grumblings and mutterings as well.

It seemed like a long walk to the podium, and a few along the aisle made impolite comments that he was meant to overhear. Mark tried to ignore it all, and hoped he wasn’t walking funny, unused as he was to the slow, dignified pace Theramin had set. (He was later assured, to his relief, that he’d walked with a very graceful stride.)

He had little attention to spare, as he was awed by the magnificence of his surroundings. The decorations were magical and beautiful, but the chapel itself was even more amazing. Though he estimated the clearing within the circle of gigantic redwood trunks to be over two hundred meters across, it felt as enclosed as a building, since the lowest branches three hundred meters above him filled most of the space overhead, and the circle of blue sky that could be seen between the branches at the tops of the trees looked very small, some seven hundred and thirty meters above.

Then Dilimon spoke, barely moving his lips, just loud enough for Mark to hear. “Be careful. I know the lass ten meters ahead on your right, in the blue striped gown. Her name is Balen, and she has a way with childish pranks, and I think she’s getting ready to do something foolish.”

Mark spotted her, but let his eyes sweep over her and beyond. She was just a hundred and twenty centimeters tall and looked to be about twelve years old, with bright red hair in a long braid down her back, and green eyes that were flashing in adolescent outrage.

When Mark was almost even with her she made a hand motion, and Dilimon gave the quiet but tense warning; “She casts!” He suddenly stepped to his right and smoothly bent to pick up one of the white and gold flowers that had fallen, and brought it to his nose to test its scent, as if that was his only intention. Thus when the spell passed cleanly through Mark, who had ignored it, it missed him as well. Three elves on the left instantly developed bright green and purple blotches on their faces, though they apparently didn’t realize that.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” Balen blurted as she blanched white as snow, then blushed crimson as she reversed the spell.

Mark had to fight not to laugh as he noticed that the two adults with her were thunderstruck at their child’s audacity, and absolutely mortified with embarrassment.

He was just past her when Balen shouted out at the top of her lungs, pointing at him accusingly. “It went right through him! He’s not even real, there’s nobody there! It’s an Illusion!”

Mark stopped, and turned to her with a gentle smile. Still, she stepped back against her mother in fear as she stared wide-eyed up at him. He smoothly went to one knee and held his hand out to her. “Your hand please, my lady?” he asked her pleasantly in his rumbling voice.

She gave her head a tiny shake of refusal.

“It’s all right, I won’t hurt you. You know Dilimon here, he’s a Sentry, and he would never let anything happen to you.” he assured her, still smiling.

She looked to Dilimon, who smiled and nodded to support Mark’s gambit, whatever that was, and silently pleaded with the cosmos to not let this become a fiasco. In a sudden inspiration, he handed her the flower.

She took it, then looked to Mark, who waited on one knee with a smile, his hand still held out to her. Hesitantly she reached out and laid her hand in his, or rather laid her tiny hand over his huge index finger. He slowly raised it to his lips as he leaned down to touch it with a gentle kiss, then covered it with his other hand and gave it a soft caress.

“You see, pretty one?” he asked. “I’m not an illusion. Please don’t think ill of me. After all, it’s my wedding day.”

“I… I won’t.” she stammered, and he gave her another big smile before he stood to continue up the aisle.

Some broke out in spontaneous applause at his gallantry, and many were the females who commented wistfully on how sweet or charming it was.

Finally they reached their place on the second tier of the podium, and all eyes turned to see Talia begin her walk down the aisle.

“Well done, Mark!” Theramin told him at private volume as they watched the bride’s party emerge into the daylight. “You really saved the day there! Almost any other response you could have made would have been a disaster!”

“I know. Thanks. I’m so glad the orchestra played through it.” Mark grinned as he whispered his response. “Nice touch with the flower there, Dilimon.”

“Thanks. My heart was almost choking me at the time.”

“Me too. Why do you think she did that?”

“Dalia was her tutor in elementary wizardry, she grieves as do we all. And you know how adolescents can be; you’re happy and she’s not and it’s not fair, and all that. Still, her parents will have things to say to her later, you can be sure of it.”

“Poor thing. Could you have them drop by our table after the vows? Maybe I can keep her out of trouble.”

“You have a big heart, Mark. I’ll ask them.”

“Thanks.”

They watched as Talia approached, and Mark marveled anew at how lovely she was. Her choice of a dress of simple yet elegant design had its desired effect, visually setting her apart from the many busily-detailed and complex fashion ensembles around her. He also reddened a bit at how much more alluring its form-fitting design was.

When Mark had begun walking down the aisle, away from her, Talia’s heart had pounded harder and harder, for fear that at any moment she would be too far away from him, and the curse would strike. When he’d reached his place on the podium, she knew the curse would not strike, and she thought to herself with great relief; ‘I’ll never let him be farther away from me than this. Ever.’ And then it was her turn.

She moved gracefully, her eyes upon Mark as she walked, except for a moment when she glanced at Balen as she passed.

The incident with Balen had left her initially furious with the girl, then fearful at the shouted accusation, and finally laughing with relief at Mark’s answer to it. Now she had to give her head a shake and chuckle, for in an adolescently mercurial change of mood, Balen was gazing at Mark in youthful adoration as she held the hand that he’d kissed to her cheek, the flower Dilimon had given her clutched tight to her chest in the other.

And then Talia could only think of Mark, and how pivotal and critical the next few moments were going to be. His smile was full of warmth and adoration for her, and she saw pride and love there as well.