HavenGuarde

Chapter 70 - Dance with me

Chapter 70

Dance with me

- He offered a hand, and she took it, and they danced forever, unto eternity -

"Revenge is sweet indeed", laughed Chaeron, as he popped a large number of succulent-looking grapes into his mouth. "You should have seen the look upon his face when he realised his gauntlets were on fire."

Thonavar grinned and chuckled to himself, sipping his goblet of wine. This was the first time he was having wine. Then again, this was the first of many firsts. He and Chaeron were not wearing the traditional clean black tunics of the Angerius Order but were dressed in handsome tunics of more artistic and elaborate fashion.

"I can tell you varu", continued Chaeron, his face flushed from the wine. "It was very good to watch. And Lyla. She was so fast. As soon as his back was turned, she sprung out from the closet like a lioness and made the switch while I moved to the doorway to make ready our exit. She was incredible. It was all over in a matter of seconds. That girl is incredible."

Angered by what Gargan had done to Thonavar, Lyla and Chaeron had switched the contents of Gargan's jar of polish for a highly flammable oil such that as Gargan brushed his pair of red gauntlets, the hard brush fibres generated friction enough to cause his gauntlets to burst into flame.

The mood was festive for it was the feast of Twilight. The only time of the year where the Angerius Order allowed all five classes to intermingle for the purposes of knowledge sharing. However, over time, under the purview of Lord Damon, its principal supporter, the feast of Twilight became an annual festive event whereby pupils from each class came together, gathering in the vast empty space of the magnificent hall of the Temple under its ceiling of multicoloured kaleidoscopic glass. External vendors came to sell their wares including all manner of food, ornaments, clothing and the like.

And so, in the great hall of the Temple, surrounded by large pillars of marbled stone, the music played, and a haunting melody, curled and wisped its way into the hearts of those who swayed gently to its thrum. The artists plucked away on their strings, in time and in sync, moving together, creating an illusion of duplicity - with their eyes closed, they even had the same face. It was said that in the old world, string artists had eyes to see and could still play music. But such music was of a lesser form. The old world did not yet possess the knowledge that music, in its purest of forms, could be played by one who had all senses dead to him save his sense of hearing. For then, the artist could truly play and perform, with all the raw power of his or her emotion channeled into the only medium of expression left to him since he or she could only hope that their audience would be able to listen and feel what only he feels. This is why all forms of music played by an artist had, within its notes and chords, a tinge and tone of desperation, born from a deep and desperate desire to communicate and relate to others. This was the calling and sacrifice of an artist who wished to truly play. It was also said that best artists could, by the sheer force of their music, conjure images within the minds of their listeners, reducing them to tears or moving them to anger, if they should wish to convey that emotion. Some could even, with the aid of prolonged listening, quiet hearts filled with bitterness and regret, renewing persons ravaged by guilt and haunted by gloom.

Yet, tonight, the music was darkly seductive. It beckoned and called, morphing into cupid, wrenching free undisclosed desires, eroding the chains of propriety, blurring reality, preparing for the realisation of long-forbidden fantasies. Fire globes were suspended above, and they glowed softly. Their light was dim. They would burn away into the night.