Arvenus found himself peering through the window panes of a spare room in the mansion with a mixture of melancholy and excitement. It had been over a week since Analin had spoken to him, since she had lain with him or shown him an ounce of affection. She had gone out of her way to punish him with silence while simultaneously showering her family with the beauty of her light.
Yet today was the day they were to wed. Arvenus mused on their last conversation, wondering not for the last time if she would ever be truly devout. And, he wondered, did it truly matter? After all, Analin was willing to commit herself to him, before the eyes of their respective families, the eyes of the village, and the eyes of the Gods. Surely that meant something. Even if he couldn’t root out the truth of her feelings, she had professed her love for him many times over.
With a sigh he turned from the window and made his way to the small mirror that hung at the base of the bed. He smoothed the leathers he wore, the supple soft brown complementing the olive tone of his skin. He had never worn such finery, had never had occasion to before. But he rather liked the way the leathers fit his body, thick skins wrapped around his legs and waist, a durable sort of armor that had been passed down through his family for generations.
A gentle tap on the door bade for his attention.
“Enter,” he called, still admiring his reflection. He was surprised to see Daron’s face behind him.
“Well met, Arvenus,” he said casually, though Arvenus could tell by the creases in the elder man’s face that he was not there for friendly banter.
“Well met,” Arvenus replied, turning away from the mirror at last. “What news do you bring, Daron?”
Daron drew in a deep breath and snorted a sigh. “I was hoping you might indulge an old fool and sit with me for a moment.”
Arvenus nodded, opening his arms and gesturing towards the bed. “Please, have a seat.”
Daron cleared his throat, taking in the room before speaking once more. “Arvenus, this is… Well, this is a delicate subject that I’m sure should be left to a better man than I. But, seeing as today is your wedding day and our families will be tied once the union is done… I feel that perhaps it is my place to say something to you.”
Arvenus let the landlord’s pause drag on, before finally making his way to the bed. He sat heavily, leaning forward with elbows on his knees.
“Go on, then,” he nodded at Daron. “Say what you will.”
“I know there is no love lost between you and Yarnus,” Daron began.
Arvenus scoffed, an undignified sort of snort escaping him.
“I know, I know,” Daron said, holding up his hands as if to defend himself. “I know this is a delicate subject. But I can tell you, I have seen the way you two interact, and I have seen the way you both look at my Analin. And, I have seen the way she looks at both of you. This last week has been a burden on her, and a burden on me to see her in such a state. She cares for both of you deeply, but you should not let their relationship stand in the way of the happiness you two can have together.”
Arvenus looked at the ground between his feet.
“Yarnus is truly of no consequence,” Daron continued, finally taking a place on the bed next to Arvenus. “In all the ways that matter, you have already won. You have Analin’s heart, you have her body and her mind. Let her spirit be free to roam where it so chooses. It is the only way there will ever be peace.”
Arvenus sighed. “I fear there will never be peace so long as Yarnus remains in the picture,” he said with a shake of his head.
“Yarnus remains because it is all he has left,” Daron said with a wave of his hand. “He is a bitter man, one who has to watch the love of his life live and love with someone else. His own brother, no less. He will stay to spite you, and to be close to Analin for as long as he can.”
The landlord leaned closer, clapping Arvenus on the back. “But I can assure you, son, that if you continue down this path of jealousy, it will only serve to drive a wedge between you and Analin. She is a woman with her own mind. She is beholden to no one, no matter how desperately she loves you; and that she truly does. So, if you continue to pursue this with her, you will drive her straight into your brother’s waiting arms, and that will be the end of your relationship. That is the truth of it, clear as day.”
Arvenus scratched at the bit of stubble that lined his jaw.
“I suppose you have the right of it,” he acquiesced. “And I’ve been a fool not to see it. Yarnus and I share bad blood. It takes very little these days to stir that enmity. But you’re right, Daron. I’ve been rash. I’ve been a prick to Analin, and to Yarnus. I’ll have to make amends.”
Daron stood, clapping his hands together. “Well then, that’s settled. Best do it before the nuptials, Arvenus. No need to take chances on your wedding day.”
Arvenus nodded to himself as the landlord left the room, closing the door with a soft click.
Standing and peering at himself in the mirror one last time, he smoothed the leathers at his waist and left the room in a rush. He stalked the halls, winding his way toward the back of the mansion, to their room, where he knew Analin would be dressing for their vows. He saw Lanika standing just outside the door.
“Lanika,” he greeted with a smile, wrapping her in a warm embrace. “You look lovely as ever.”
“And you’re a terrible liar,” she smiled back, the twinkle of mischief in her eyes.
“Perhaps,” he agreed, chuckling. “But I would never lie to you. Is Analin in there?” Arvenus nodded his head toward the door.
“Aye,” Lanika nodded. “Though I’m not sure she’d want you to see her just now.”
“This can’t wait,” Arvenus said seriously. “I’ve been worse than an ass to her, and I need to make it right. Before we take our vows. I want to start this marriage the way it should be.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Lanika relented. “Fine. But be quick. The ceremony is only minutes from starting.”
Arvenus leaned forward and planted his lips against her cheek in thanks before she disappeared down the hall and out of sight. He knocked softly on the door, calling to Analin.
“You may enter,” she replied, though her words were as frosty as ever.
He cracked the door ajar and peered inside. Analin stood facing a long mirror, fussing with the curls in her hair. She wore a long simple dress of white, layers of delicate lace placed over a silky slip. Tan furs draped over her shoulder, as was the custom of her family, and strands of pearl had been woven expertly through her tresses.
“You look more beautiful than I could have imagined,” he breathed as he entered the room.
The corners of her mouth twitched upward.
“Why are you here, Arvenus? You should be waiting in the garden.”
“I came to apologize,” he said. He moved toward her and placed his hands around her waist, pulling her body into him from behind. He spoke to her reflection, lost in her questioning eyes.
“I’ve been worse than a horse’s ass,” he admitted. “I forgot myself, and I allowed my issues with Yarnus to color my judgment.”
He felt her body relax into his arms as he spoke.
“If I were a better man, I’d be glad to see my wife and brother so chummy. But I am not a better man. I am a deeply flawed man who is desperately in love, and fears more than anything that I could lose you. Perhaps that fear is so strong because I know in my heart of hearts that I do not deserve you. I beg you give this poor man lenience, that I might learn to deserve you in time. And I beg you forgive me for my mistakes and love me despite them.”
Analin feigned being lost in thought before smiling at him.
“I suppose I can forgive you,” she agreed. ‘If you can promise me here and now to put an end to this jealousy. I will not live two lives, forced to hide my husband from my friend and my friend from my husband.”
Arvenus turned Analin in his arms and slowly kissed her soft lips. “I swear it,” he whispered, breathing deeply of her scent. “I will learn to be better for you Analin. And for our child.”
“Then let us be done with this foolishness,” she said, grabbing his hands with a laugh. “And go take our vows.”
Outside in the orchard, a small group of villagers had gathered. His stomach twisted with nerves, and Arvenus swallowed hard, trying to still the trembling of his hands.
“There is nothing to fear, son,” Vrayim said softly, clapping Arvenus on the shoulder. “Your mother and I could not be more proud of your choice for a wife. Analin is kind and well-mannered. She comes from a wealthy family. And she loves you truly. She has always been a friend to our family. I wholeheartedly approve.”
Nodding, Arvenus gave him a thin smile. He caught his mother’s eye where she stood among the crowd, the golden hazel of them reassuring.
“I love her,” he said to his father. “But I fear I would be remiss if I did not admit that I do have reservations.”
“Her relationship with Yarnus, perhaps?” his mother asked as she made her way toward them.
Flushed with shame, Arvenus dipped his chin in a nod.
“My son,” Yadevil smiled, reaching for him. She wrapped her arms about his shoulders, pulling him tight against her. She had always smelled of lilac and lavender, and as Arvenus rested his head against the top of hers, he breathed deeply, comforted by the familiar scent.
“The troubles you and your brother share are those of children,” she continued, pulling away from him. “And you are no longer children. It is time to let the past be in the past. Forgive your brother his shortcomings, as he should do for you. You will see how much happier you can be if you accept him into your life. It is my only wish in life, to see my sons as brothers once more. It would be the kindest gift you could give a mother.”
In the distance, Arvenus saw a shimmer of white, and Analin’s face appeared from the shadows.
“It is time,” Vrayim smiled. “Hold no reservations my son. You have done well.”
His mother and father slipped from his side, settling at the forefront of the crowd. They beamed at him, their fingers entwined. After so many decades together, they still harbored a deep love for one another. It gave him comfort to know that theirs was a shining example of what marriage could be.
Arvenus watched as Analin was escorted toward him, her arms looped on either side, one through her mother’s arm, and one through her father’s. There was no trace of her former dissatisfaction, no hint of the troubles that they had experienced over the last week. When she smiled at him, her eyes bright and full of wonder, he could see the love she had for him. It warmed him to love her and be loved by her in return.
As they came to rest at his side, Arvenus held out his hand. Analin took it eagerly, a flush of excitement blushing her cheeks. Daron kissed his daughter’s cheek, then his wife’s.
“It is an auspicious day,” he announced, eyes shining as he addressed the crowd that stood nearby to watch the proceedings. Arvenus noted with some satisfaction that Yarnus stood among them, brooding and morose.
“For today,” Daron continued, drawing Arvenus' gaze once more. “Today is the day that my dear Analin becomes a woman in her own right. Today is the day she takes the mantle of wife, and perhaps one day soon, mother.”
Daron twisted in place, reaching down at his side. When he stood back up, he held a thick rope in his hands.
“Analin, my darling daughter, in the eyes of the Gods do you take Arvenus for your own? Do you join your name and blood to his, and give your life to him of your own free will?”
Analin smiled, curls bouncing as she nodded in earnest. “Yes, Father.”
Daron reached forward and took her free hand. He wrapped one end of the rope about her fingers and wrist, while the other end hung loose at his side.
“And you, Arvenus? Do you take Analin to be yours? Do you accept her into your fold and agree to care for her needs as you would your own?”
Arvenus swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. His lips twitched into a smile before he nodded. “Aye, Daron. That I do.”
Daron pulled the rope attached to Analin’s hand, turning her about so that she faced Arvenus. Then he lifted the free end of the rope and began to wrap it around Arvenus’ free hand. When he was done, their fingers lay entwined with their hands held together by the rope.
“So it is, and so it shall be, that you, Analin, and you Arvenus, are tied together. You are bound to each other, not only by this rope, but by the promises you have made to one another here today. May you never forget them.”
With a hand on each of their shoulders, Daron pushed them down to their knees. Arvenus and Analin bowed their heads forward until their brows were touching.
“Lanika, if you please.”
Emerging from behind them, Lanika approached holding a round clay bowl in her hands. She tipped the bowl towards them and spilled a thin, cool liquid over their heads. It smelled sweet, of honey and lavender, and as it dripped down his chin Arvenus found himself staring into Analin’s gentle eyes.
“With this water we wash away the lives of Arvenus and Analin,” Daron said, raising his hands to the sky. “We wash away the single entities you were, so that only the pairing remains. Arise, my children, and celebrate your union.”
As the few straggling villagers clapped and hollered, Arvenus stood and pulled Analin next to him.
“Well met, wife,” he whispered in her ear, his lips brushing the softness of her cheek.
“Well met, husband,” she smiled, and kissed him on the lips.
As the pair turned to make their way back to the mansion, Arvenus looked into his brother’s eyes. They were black with anger, his lips ghostly white. Yarnus shook his head, lips lifting in a sneer. Then he turned and walked through the garden gate to the estate village. He quickly disappeared from sight.
“Yarnus!” Analin called, but Arvenus pulled her up short when she tried to follow. “Not this again, Arvenus,” she shot back at him, but there was no ill intent on his face.
“His is a sour mood, love,” Arvenus said quietly as the rest of the villagers dispersed. “Let him be alone with his hurts. He need not have them thrust back in his face so soon.”
She sighed, turning her attention back toward the road.
“Wash up first,” Arvenus suggested, though he fought his own inner turmoil with each word. “Take off that dress and put something sensible on. Then you can go to him, or we can go together. Whatever you like.”
“My Lord!”
The shout came from the road, and Arvenus turned in time to see one of the older men of the village running toward them.
“What’s going on?” Daron asked him. “Why are you running?”
“Raiders,” the man panted as he stumbled to a halt before them. He leaned forward on his knees, wheezing.
“Where?” Arvenus asked.
“Headed this way. Raiding all the homes on the outer edges toward the north.”
“Go back inside,” Arvenus commanded Analin, drawing the hunting knife he always kept in his boots. He slipped the small copper blade between the folds of the rope and with one sharp tug split them apart.
“You go,” Lanika said to Daron, gifting him a brief embrace. “I’ll stay with Analin and lock up the mansion.”
With a parting glance at his new wife, Arvenus followed Daron toward the raiders on foot. As they drew near, they could hear shouts and screams. Arvenus tried to ignore the way his stomach twisted into knots at the sound. Confusion haunted his every step, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that the sudden appearance of raiders in their small village was no coincidence. Could it be that these bandits were the same they had encountered on the road? The infamous Kenderik One-Arm and his men? He pushed the thought out of his mind, but it lingered there in the shadows, whispering to him all the while.
As another shriek filled the air, Arvenus took off at a run. He sprinted down the street, leaving Daron shouting from behind. As he rounded the corner and changed course down a narrow strip of path, he was faced with carnage quite unlike anything he had ever seen before.
A number of houses lay in ruin. Thatch from the rooftops had caved in, and bits of frond and hay had gotten caught in the wind and spread all the way down the street. Wooden slats had been cut down, leaving great gaping holes that meant that half of the houses were now open and exposed to the world. Worse still was the wreckage that spilled out into the street. The meager possessions owned by the villagers had been dragged out of their homes, bits of porcelain smashed into the dirt, sacks of grain and preserves that had been stolen leaving their tracks in the dust. Though few villagers remained, there were some that sat sobbing in the street, trying to gather up the last remaining vestiges of what was once their lives.
Arvenus raced down the road, slowing only to look at the damage that had been inflicted. Much of what was left behind was a mere shadow of its former glory. At a time so close to winter, it would be impossible to restore each and every home before the first snow fell.
“Where are the raiders now?” he asked a woman nearby. She turned a tearful face to him.
“Closer to the center of the village,” she choked between struggling breaths. “They’re going after the stores and destroying the rest.”
He nodded and turned around on sharp heels. Their hoof prints and heel marks had been gouged into the earth, their tracks plain as day. His heart beating against his ribcage, Arvenus bounded down the street and ducked down an alley to try and cut the raiders off. As he reappeared at the end of the narrow space left between the two rows of houses, he saw them.
A mountain of a man sat atop a thick stallion. He stared out from behind black eyes, an angry red scar etched across the right side of his brow. His shoulders cast a shadow over the earth as he reigned in his horse, shouting commands at several other men on foot. He would have been a terrifying figure in any right, but a shiver ran down Arvenus' spine at the sight of him. Beyond the black stare and the scar that marred his face was something even more identifiable about him: He had only one arm. It was then that Arvenus was sure of it. Their appearance was no coincidence.
“Kenderik,” one of his men shouted, and the hulking figure dismounted easily.
Arvenus hefted the weight of the knife in his hand. The blade glinted in the sunlight, a quick flash of yellow on copper that made him squint. He had hunted many a buck with that knife. He had helped skin sheep and goats with it. He had even put down a lame mule with it from time to time. But against an armed man… Arvenus shook his head. It wasn’t something he wanted to think about.
With a resolute sigh, he ducked low, inching forward in a crouch. He made his way to the very edge of the houses that shielded him and waited. As the men drew nearer, his muscles tightened like a coil ready to spring. He watched them patiently, hardly breathing as his keen eyes tracked their every move. Arvenus waited until Kenderik One-Arm and his men were nearly upon him.
Then, he struck.
Darting out from the safety of his hiding place, he charged at Kenderik and, with the full weight of his body, caught the big man around the waist, pushing him down out of the saddle and into the dirt. The two struggled, Kenderik gripping Arvenus by the throat. Arvenus quickly lifted his knife high and brought it down into the bandit’s armless shoulder. The raider howled and dropped his hand, clamping it down over his shoulder with a curse. While blood spilled out from between his fingers, peppering the ground, his men rushed to his aid. But Arvenus struck again, slashing at the exposed skin of the bandit’s arm. A great roar rose from the barrel of Kenderik’s One-Arm’s chest, and in one swift motion he reached across his hip and withdrew a short sword. In a graceful arc, it swung toward Arvenus, catching him at the wrist. As a searing pain shot up his arm, Arvenus dropped his knife. He rose back up his feet as fast as he could, but Kenderik’s men had reached him.
At that moment, Yarnus appeared accompanied by a number of screaming villagers carrying garden rakes and pitchforks. They stormed forward, brandishing their makeshift weapons as they ran. The fire in their eyes was enough to startle any man, despite the comical nature of their assault. As the villagers roused to attack, Arvenus slipped from sight, dashing for the safety of the houses nearby. Kenderik’s men had no trouble fighting off the villagers. Their rakes and pitchforks were no match for battle-hardened weapons, and within mere moments they were forced to retreat.
Arvenus watched from the shadows, stepping beyond the walls of safety only when the raiders helped their leader onto his horse. As the rest of the bandits mounted up, Arvenus took several brazen steps into the open field. With a sharp whistle, Kenderik One-Arm called for his remaining men, who were gathering supplies together, hefting them onto their horses’ backs.
Kenderik grinned at Arvenus, exposing his blackened teeth in a hideous smile. “I won’t forget you…” the raider called. Then he dug his heels into the mare’s ribs, and the raiders tore out of sight.