Chaart Acrat 1 - The Flying Bride

Chapter 9

Owata had never dreamed that her wedding day would be the best day of her life, but as the sun was rising she felt worse than she would ever have expected. It would be impossible to escape from the village now. She sat up on her bed and stretched her hand to grab a violet cunam-fruit from the tree next to her window. The fruits weren't at their best yet but she was hungry. Rest of the family hadn't woken up yet.

"Owata!" she heard someone whisper below her. Siarme was crouching under the window. For a second Owata thought she was dreaming.

"Well, what is it this time," she hissed and threw her legs over the windowsill.

"Come here, let's have a talk."

"Good grief."

Owata took a cunam from the tree and jumped to the ground beside Siarme. She massaged her aching temples and remembered that she'd left her water bottle on the kitchen table when she had returned home at night.

"Speak fast, I want to go back in."

"I don't think you do."

"How come?"

"The Leoncegs are on their way to your house. They want to prepare you for the ceremony."

Owata's throat felt like she was being strangled, but she forced herself to take a bite from her fruit and swallow it. Some morning dew was glinting on its surface, feeling refreshing.

"But I have an idea," Siarme told. "It's nothing that would necessarily help the situation, and it's nothing that would count as a way out of this. But it would be fun. And my parent's don't know about it."

Owata frowned and felt frustration growing inside her. "You're about to make it just a game, aren't you?"

"One could say so."

"But how?"

"Would you consider riding a shia-ag again?"

A lump of anger burst out from Owata as a scream. "I will no longer have patience to mess with you!"

"Owata?" they heard a voice coming from inside. Owata startled as she realized she had left the window open. "Owata! The priestesses are here!"

Owata went pale and covered her mouth with her hand. She looked at Siarme anxious; he pulled her to her legs and walked her away from the house, farther in the grove.

"So you'd rather go with them nicely and let them prepare yourself for the ceremony?" Siarme asked when they couldn't see the house behind the tree trunks anymore.

"N-no... I wouldn't..."

"Then listen up. This is the situation: I don't want to get married, but without a spouse I'll never become the chief. You don't want to get married, but you don't have other options. Raakshe was still in her right senses when she chose you to marry me. She was up to something, and I want to know what it was."

"I know what she was up to," Owata mumbled. "She thought the chief's family has become too self-centered and diverged from the ordinary people. I was supposed to come and get your feet on the ground."

Siarme squeezed his lips to be a mere line and stared at Owata. His brown eyes were reflecting the deep-green color of the trees, which caused them to look cold-shaded.

"But I believe that Raakshe knew or predicted something else, too. I found some poems from her papers, they looked like prophecies. Something about a great catastrophe."

"Do you believe her? Do you think we should do what she told us to do?"

"I believe -" Owata had to ponder for a moment. "- that something is going on. She can't just have made it all up. She's an honoured soothsayer. I mean, she was."

Siarme nodded. "Listen. I know you don't like the idea, but we have to get married today. But it doesn't mean we couldn't do it the way we want and cause some bewilderment at the same time." Siarme winked.

Owata smiled a little but then she went serious. "The chief is planning to send me away soon after the wedding, isn't she?"

"She can't do it if I'm against it."

"Are you against it?"

"Yes."

"Should I trust you?"

"Do you have other options?"

Owata took a deep breath. No. She didn't have options. Perhaps Siarme was a sneak and a trickster, but as long as he didn't pretend to be a passionate lover, she could bear it. If he really meant what he said and kept his word, maybe she could trust him someday.

"To the shia-ags, let's get going!" Siarme commanded. "You'll get to fly again."

"And don't dare touching me without permission!"

"Only if you try to flee again!"