The Bride of the Rain God

..--..

Sir Knight meets The Bride

..--..

“Stay still, boy,” his father admonished him impatiently. The man was trying to judge the result of the long hours of sweat and toil he’d put together to create the masterpiece. And, a magnum opus it indeed was. An armor of the strongest steel that could defend the heaviest of blows and the sharpest of javelin attacks. Against the red flames in the arc, its metal surface shone like a luminescent sun. His eyes glowing, the man felt proud of his achievement.

“But it’s so very hot in here, father,” his son’s whine echoed from the depths. The boy tried to scratch the itch on his back but the armor creaked in protest.

“Ruwa, this armor is the commission from the Lord of a distant land. And if he likes it, he might pay us in bullions. And do you know what that means?”

“That we’ll finally be able to have a square meal for once?”

“Yes but not just that, my boy. I’d be able to get more patrons. People would flock here just to have their armors, shields and swords made by the great Armada. You’d be proud of your old man and his craft.”

Frowning suddenly, the man turned away and broke into a series of painful coughs. He took a dirty cloth from the banister and buried his face into it until the violent coughs receded.

The fifteen year old boy cooped up inside the metal suit sighed. He arched his arm in an awkward stance, lifted the panel in his helmet and looked at his parent worriedly. The hazel eyes stared into the old brown ones in concern.

“I’d rather wish that the great Armada would take better care of his health. You’re not a young man any more, father.”

“Don’t worry about me, boy. I still have some more years left in this wrangled, old body. You should worry about yourself more, Ruwa. Why can’t you be keener at learning the family tradition?”

A long, hard silence hung in the air.

“I do not wish to be an ironsmith,” Ruwa said after the long pause.

“… Why not? Are you ashamed?”

“No… it’s not that, father.”

His old man waited for an answer.

“I just do not think I could ever be you,” his son surmised, looking away in shame.

The old man smiled sympathetically. He walked to his boy’s side and closed the panel on the hood with his gnarled hands. He held the armor close to his heart, hearing it rattle against his strong hold.

“One day you’ll be strong, son. Trust me.”

Their solitude was broken by a loud knock on the door and Armada turned to it with a hopeful eye. Perhaps, a commission from the chieftain, he thought to himself, rubbing his hands at the prospect.

“Stay here. I’ll be back in a moment,” he told his son, picking up his trusty hammer and walking to the door.

“I should stay? Like this?” Ruwa asked in surprise. “It’s hot and… what if I want to… pee?” he whined.

His father looked at him in alarm. He wagged a pointed finger at him as a tacit warning. “Whatever you do, do not ruin the armor.”

And then, his father was gone.

With another sigh, Ruwa collapsed on the wooden bench with his hands clasped in front of him. He raised his gauntlet and looked at it against the dim yellow light from the lantern. His fingers hardly reached the ends of the glove. He might be tall for a boy of fifteen summers but he didn’t have the sort of build the suit was intended for. He curled his fingers into a fist.

“These hands are not meant for the chisel,” he promised himself silently.

In the afternoon, the folks of Wingding were treated to the entertaining sight of an armor scurrying to and fro in panic. Its head swiveled and rattled as it ran across the streets muttering expletives.

“That’s an unusual sight,” said one commoner to another as they sat on a wired mat smoking a pipe. The garrulous old men watched the suit of armor with awed and curious interest, the same kind they would have presented to a talking dragon if it were to appear magically in front of them.

“Yes, exceedingly so. Exceedingly so. I wonder what’s the matter with him?”

“He looks like a man on a mission.”

“But what kind of mission?”

“Perhaps, he is going to save a damsel in distress.”

“But what kind of a damsel?”

..--..

In his urgency to answer to the call of nature, Ruwa bustled about the entire town looking for his old man. But much to the distress of his inner organs, the man was nowhere to be found. If only Ruwa hadn’t agreed to being used as a mannequin, he wouldn’t be wearing this god awful armor that was wedged to his body like a second skin.

Oh, why could he never say no?

The boy tried to wrench the helmet out but to no avail. He hopped his way to a dark alley, to avoid becoming more of a local spectacle. He walked down the dusty, solitary road, mumbling curses and abuses at the metal suit that had him trapped inside.

He stopped only when he heard voices.

Unwittingly, he had stumbled across a group of delinquents, crowded together and making a noisy fracas. The boys not older than him were circled around what seemed like some poor, trapped animal with red fur.

‘A fox… or a cat?’ he wondered thoughtfully.

He knew of the petty games these boys played in the neighborhood. One of those notorious games was picking up stray animals and pulling at their whiskers.

“You don’t even look like a girl. Such curly red hair…” one boy said to the subject of interest, tipping his beret in a pleased manner.

“Shut up!” a girl’s voice replied.

“Oh, she’s a feisty one, fellows!”

“She is like a cat,” another gibed. “Meow~” he mimicked, pawing at her shoulder. “Meow!”

The circle of boys separated to reveal their trapped prey. Ruwa realized his mistake. It wasn’t some poor animal but a girl with vivid green eyes and short, fuzzy red hair. He gasped aloud, thumping his fist in amazement. She did look like a cat, he mused.

“A cat that can claw your eyes out,” the girl snapped back at the boys, scuttling away to a corner.

“You have some nerve to steal our loot and talk back to us? Alright boys, let’s show her what we can do,” the ringleader announced, rolling up his sleeves.

Ruwa swallowed hard, looking sideways.

As much as the situation called for it, this wasn’t a time for heroics. He was a boy of fifteen years and he intended to live long enough to see the sixteenth. He wasn’t a coward or a white feather. Oh no. He was just acting in his own best interests. Why become part of a brawl? He couldn’t fight for his own life let alone someone else’s. Yes, he was firm on his decision to leave for a safer sanctuary.

He made a discreet attempt at taking a step back. Except his metal suit had other plans.

RATTLE! CREAK!

The armor screeched loudly. It definitely caught the boys’ attention.

“Oye, who’re you?” the ring leader cried out in warning, whipping his head around.

Arms flying, the armor was caught off guard. He gripped the wall in alarm. Realizing that he better speak up before getting throttled to the ground, he uttered a guttural growl. “Let that girl go!” Ruwa said quietly, his voice shrilled from the depths of metal.

“Show yourself whoever you are! And tell us why should we take orders from the likes of a tin can?” the leader shot back.

The armor was quiet for a long moment.

“Because…” it trailed.

“Because?” the boys said, advancing on him with one step at a time.

“Because I’m a haunted piece of armor cursed to live until I atone for my sins of a gory past…”

The boys stopped a few feet away and stared at him. They almost seemed to believe him. Well, all except for the ringleader who laughed at him in mock disbelief.

“He lies!” the boy exclaimed to the benefit of others. “And I’ll prove it to you.”

The boy sprang on him with a war cry. Ruwa being extraordinarily tall for his age flinched backwards and the only thing the ringleader caught hold of was his gauntlet at which he pulled determinedly.

It popped without a fight and fell to the ground with a loud rattle.

The leader stared at the empty space where a human hand ought to be.

The only problem being it wasn’t.

The boy’s eyes grew wide and he looked at the others in fear.

“It’s a GHOST! RUN!” he yelled.

The boys disappeared within an instant, scattering like disturbed ants.

Only the girl was left behind.

Ruwa raised his other arm, scratching the top of the tin helmet. He let out a nervous laugh.

“Whoa~ they actually believed me,” he said aloud. He turned back, metal scraping against the floor loudly and he looked at the girl.

She sat against the wall, knees huddled to her chest. She stared at him like a pretty red goldfish, eyes wide and snot under her nose. She looked either awe-stricken or fearful, he couldn’t decide between the two. Ruwa shifted from one foot to another, making grinding noises on the floor. He crossed over to her and bent down.

“Are you alright?” he said, holding out his hand.

“Your hand…” she trailed in wonder.

He looked down and noticed it for the first time.

For a brief moment, he himself panicked to see the empty slot where his hand should have been. Only when he could stretch his fingers out from the depths of the suit, did he let out a sigh of relief. His digits were whole- all flesh and bone.

“Oh,” she exclaimed at the little trick.

He tried to smile but stopped when he realized that she couldn’t really see it behind the cover of his helmet. At the sudden reminder of his painful circumstance, the distressing call of nature returned and he blanched. Getting to his feet, he looked around awkwardly. Enough is enough, he decided. He really ought to be looking for a way out of this nuisance of an armor.

“I must go. Take care,” he said and turned around to scamper away.

The girl wanted to say something but she couldn’t find her voice. “Wait…” she said into the lonely alleyway but he’d already left.

“Wait… I didn’t even ask for your name, Sir Knight…”

..--..

Seasons changed and five years passed. But now a great calamity fell upon the town of Wingding. It was suffering from a dry onslaught that had lasted for the past seven months. Not one spell of rain or even a drizzle, yet the town thrived… perhaps it was as obstinate as the Rain God himself. The ones most affected by the drought were not the dry, barren fields on the outskirts of the town or the water birds migrating south but a mere girl. On the bank of Tylis- once a mighty river but now reduced to a mere stream trickling between the moss-covered rocks, she stood tied to a boulder and struggling against her bonds.

“This is for the best, my child,” her mother said, tightening the knots and bidding her a tearful farewell at the same time.

“Mum- I promise to be good! Please give me one more chance,” she pleaded, her red curls swaying with the dry breeze.

“I cannot help, Lori. It is the decision of the elders.”

“Just one more chance. I know I’ve never been the ‘lady’ you wanted me to be. But I try. I do try.”

“You set fire to the Oracle,” her mother said, no humor in her voice. “Even the priest’s beard was set ablaze.”

At the faint recollection of the memory, Lori bit her lip to keep herself from giggling. A faint smile quirked its way up her lips but dissolved when she caught the icy glare from her mother.

“It was a mistake… A mistake I do regret,” she said quickly but the damage was already done.

“Alas, my child, you still laugh naively. There really is no hope for you. Do you know what they all call you? The red devil. They believe that you’re the reason we’re at the receiving end of the rain god’s wrath. And so, you must go. As punishment.”

“Punishment? But, what will happen to me?”

“If the rain god likes you, he’ll take you as a court maiden. If not…”

Her mother was so overwhelmed with emotion that she held back.

“What could possibly be worse than being a stranger’s court maiden?” Lori shrilled, eyes stricken in fear.

“Oh, there is a worse fate, my unfortunate child. If he doesn’t approve of the sacrifice, he’ll eat you.”

“WHAT?”

“Either way the town and everyone will be saved.”

“Yes, everyone except for the little lambkin me, you’re sacrificing for someone’s dinner,” Lori retorted.

“Speaking of dinner, I must go! I haven’t decided on the menu for tonight,” her mother said thoughtfully.

“Mum, how can you think of dinner at a time like this?! No-NO! You can’t leave me here!”

Ignoring her cries, her mother turned away and started climbing the riverbank. She ventured across the eroded soil and turned to look at her daughter for one last time.

“I hope the town will be saved,” she shouted at her daughter before turning away.

“No! Stop! I’m your dearest daughter, aren’t I? Are you going to let me be sacrificed like this?” she yelled at the retreating form of her mother. But the woman was gone.

Lori gaped at the empty landscape. Her head cast down, she stared at the gurgling waters below.

“So, is this it? The tragic end to a life so youthful! I’m too young to die~” she wailed, struggling against her bonds once more.

Her cries and yells remained unheard as the sky darkened and night fell like a curtain of shadows. The waters beneath hadn’t given an answer yet but whatever it was, she knew she was doomed. Perhaps, she really shouldn’t have set fire to the oracle, she felt on hindsight.

..--..

Ruwa had become a young man, who came across to most people as a self-absorbed, taciturn youth. He spent his time locked up inside his father’s old den, looking at his inheritance with less than a feeling of pride and devotion. The old man hadn’t left him much except for frequent visits from the local debt-collector, the ramshackle he still called home, a sword and an ornate dagger that the man had left behind on his death bed.

Ruwa, though the son of the master ironsmith, had thrown away the hammer and the chisel for a life devoted to the benevolent arts, his biggest passion- writing. As of yet, he hadn’t written anything spectacular but he planned to. Oh yes, he did. Everyone might mock him but he knew his place in society. And a writer, he would be.

And so, he came to the riverside every night to collect his thoughts and think of a story to tell. A story that generations after him would remember him by. A fable that scores of children will be told before being put to bed.

On that particular night, when he laid on the riverbank, humming to himself the tune of a popular lullaby, he faintly heard the river reverberating with strange sounds as if it were a hissing serpent. He sat up.

Rivers couldn’t hiss like a serpent. Rivers were not supposed to make any sounds.

What was he even thinking?

And there behold, he saw the water rising slowly, filling in to the small crevices and cracks.

“Amazing,” he thought. “After months of drought, the river is filling up. Wingding is saved,” he said aloud.

“Is someone there?” a voice asked from the gloom of the night.

He looked at the river suspiciously.

“Amazing. You can speak too?”

“Not there. Over here,” the voice said.

He looked at the trees on the other side of the bank.

“Not there, either. Look to your right.”

He turned to the boulders and decided they were the culprits.

“When did you learn the human tongue, comrade boulder?”

“I’m not a rock. Come closer and look carefully,” the voice said, sounding visibly disgruntled.

He did as he was told. And lo, behold. The owner of the voice was, in truth, a girl. A girl with vibrant red curls was fastened to the rock with coir. Her attire consisting of rundown leather boots and dark patches on a loosely hung skirt suggested she was from the lower strata of society just like himself. She felt relieved to see him and it showed on her face. A wide smile broke out on her lips.

“Could you untie me?” she pleaded, nodding to her binds.

Ruwa stared at her suspiciously.

“W-why should I?”

“Are you refusing to help me?” she snapped, eyes flashing vividly.

Ruwa crossed his arms in front of him and scrutinized her with narrow eyes.

“If you were tied there, it must have been for a reason. A good logical reason.”

“I was tricked. It’s a very long story. We do not have time for this. Please untie me now before he comes!”

“Who is he?”

“You don’t want to know,” the girl trailed, casting the skies a solemn look. Ruwa looked up and found what she was looking at. The sky was becoming dense with dark, furious clouds that rumbled through the silent night. The sound of thunder reverberated through the land, making his hackles rise.

The sky broke and a torrential shower descended on them.

Ruwa raised his arms to cover himself.

“I-it’s raining?” he spat out in surprise, looking around for cover.

He looked at the girl who was suddenly quiet. Getting slowly drenched in the rain, she was still looking up at the heavens, her face forlorn and pale. Water trickled down her creased brow as her lips trembled in fear. Ruwa had never before seen desperation but he could see it in her. In spite of getting terribly wet himself, he reached her side and searched the pockets of his coat.

“What’re you doing?” she asked in a low whisper.

“Trying to find something to cut the ropes with.”

“You’re going to help me?”

His eyes met hers and he nodded. “I don’t know why you’re bound and I don’t trust you either. But I won’t leave you here to die,” he said. He remembered the dagger his father had left him as a memento and started untying his white robe.

“W-why’re you taking off your shirt?” the girl stuttered.

He didn’t answer. When he had undone the first few buttons, he reached in and pulled out the dagger tied across his chest.

Smiling at her brightly despite the rain, he cut the ropes with a clean swipe. And even as he did, the sky rumbled in anger. Lori knew what that meant.

Freed from her binds, she looked at him relieved and thanked him profusely. Before he could say a word, she caught his arm and dragged him in the direction of the town.

..--..

The rain splattered across the red tiles of his roof relentlessly and he wondered how long they’d hold. It was indeed strange that a drought-affected town was receiving all the rain it had asked for within the course of just one night.

“Might I ask what you’re doing in my home?” he asked her, looking very perturbed at the thought of letting a stranger reside inside his house. The fire was lit and she sat across it, shivering in her wet rags.

“S-s-s-sorry,” she apologized, red head bobbing up and down many times.

He sighed and ventured into his father’s room, only to return with two blankets. He dropped them next to her and sat down across her on the floor, right next to the fireplace. She hurriedly picked up the blanket and wrapped it around herself. Cozy in its warmth, she let out a sigh in comfort.

Ruwa continued to look at her suspiciously.

She smiled at him brightly, grinning ear to ear. “I’ll be spending the night here. Thank you very much for inviting me to stay.”

“I never did.”

“Well, you did hint.”

“Never. You must have imagined it.”

She pouted. “Well, as long as I’m here… I might as well make myself comfortable. What is your name if you don’t mind me asking?”

“… Ruwa Armada,” he revealed, after a long moment of hesitation.

“That’s a strange name.”

“Yes,” he said with the enthusiasm of an executioner. “So I’ve been told many times.”

“I’m Lori,” she almost yelled back, making him jump. She held her hand out. She was smiling again and her eyes danced with mischief. The burning embers lit her in a strange sort of glow that made his stomach twist and his heart skip. He swallowed hard and shook her hand gingerly, not knowing what exactly this feeling was. ‘Why does she seem so familiar?’ He wondered, sinking deeper into his spot on the warm ground.

Lori seemed to have the energy of a chipmunk. Having decided to turn his house into her personal den, she left no nook and corner unexplored. She hovered over the tool shelf and poured over it for a long while. She ran her fingers across the dust collected on them and whistled.

“You’re an ironsmith?” she asked curiously.

Ruwa shrugged in nonchalance, shoulders slumping more. “No, not really. My father was.”

“Was?” she echoed, growing serious.

“Yes… He passed away a year ago,” Ruwa said, not a trace of any emotion in his voice.

“Oh,” was all she said, her eyes turning sympathetic. They brightened up within another instant.

“So, what do you do?”

“I…”

She nodded exuberantly, waiting for an answer.

“I… write,” he said in a resigned tone.

“You’re a writer?”

“Well, not yet. I do want to be one.”

“What kind of stories do you wish to write?”

“Adventures, myths and fables. That sort of thing.”

She scurried over to his side and sat down before him. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it in support.

“You’ll be a great writer one day. I am sure.”

Ruwa gulped, looking at her awkwardly. His face felt hot all of a sudden and he nodded reluctantly.

“And as a token of my gratitude, I’ll help you,” she announced, pumping her fist in the air.

“Y-you will?” he stuttered. “How?” he asked. “Why?” he asked again, turning suspicious.

“Leave it to Lori,” she assured him with a mock salute.

..--..

The rain continued to beat on his roof relentlessly. Almost as if the heavens were angry and letting their fury show through bolts of lightning and thunder. He was sleeping on the floor, having somehow surrendered his bed to the cat-woman.

Yes, that’s what he called her now.

How could he let a stranger have his bed? To a quasi-woman like her of all people too?

Why couldn’t he ever say no?

He scowled and turned on his side. He couldn’t sleep. He had been tossing and turning for the past two hours while the girl appeared to be snoring peacefully in his bed.

He shook his fist at her and turned on his other side again. His elbows were already stiff and sore from sleeping on the hard, uninviting floor. He mumbled curses at the girl again, grasped hold of his covers and pulled them over his head.

He had been on the verge of falling asleep when a thunder roared through the land, making him snap his eyes open in fear. He could hear the harsh whispers of the violent winds as they rattled his doors and windows.

This was indeed strange. Seven months of no rain but drought and now suddenly, a storm was looming over the town?

He pulled the covers down and was surprised by the weight next to him. He turned slowly to find Lori, snuggled next to him and sleeping with a peaceful frown on her face.

Ruwa shot up and shifted backwards. Gulping, he looked at her as she rolled to him. He moved back further and she rolled to him again, latching on to him persistently.

Ruwa placed a hand on his chest, trying to soothe the racing heart.

“I-it’s alright,” he told himself. “Don’t get so alarmed. It’s not like she meant to do that. And she is not really that much of a girl.”

Lori frowned and having commandeered his pillow, sunk her head deeper into it.

Ruwa scowled but bit back a grin.

“You’re a strange one. How can you sleep so serenely when there is a storm brewing outside?”

Almost in response, she let out a whimper and snored.

Tired, Ruwa shook his head in remorse. He reclaimed his portion of the blanket and closed his eyes, ignoring the whispers of the wind. Almost immediately, he fell asleep against the warmth of the figure beside him.

..--..

When he woke up next morning, his eyes opened bleakly. It was bright and it hurt his vision. Through his bleary eyes, he noticed that the sun was shining, the sky was blue, the birds were twittering back and forth and he was moving through the countryside in the open air.

“Moving?” he wondered. “Wait. MOVING?” he exclaimed out aloud, sitting up in surprise.

He was sitting on top of a cart that was being pulled by an old man and an equally old looking horse. The rider turned around, bobbed his hat in greeting and went back to steering the cart.

“Where am I?” he blurted out, pulling at the twigs in his disheveled hair.

A figure emerged from the depths of the hay stack. He found Lori grinning at him like a Cheshire cat. She wore a straw hat and was thoroughly enjoying the scenery.

“Good morning, Master Ruwa!” she greeted enthusiastically.

“Y-you! What did you do? Why am I here? Where are we going? Are we even in Wingding anymore?”

“Nope,” she answered, stretching out her arms to the open air. “Wingding has been left behind. We are going on a journey.”

“A journey? We?” he repeated. “WE?” he almost yelled.

“Yes, you and me. Lori and Master Ruwa’s tale of adventure!”

“But I didn’t want to go anywhere,” he whined, looking at the passing country sights sullenly.

She took his hand and squeezed it warmly, green eyes glittering under the sun.

“I promised that I’ll help you. And so I will. You saved me and now it’s my turn to return the favor.”

He looked at her suspiciously. Under the glow of her smile, his stomach felt queasy again and he ceded... albeit unwillingly.

“Alright. I guess a change in scene would suit me,” he said, his voice grumpy. He looked away from those charming eyes of her. “But where are we going?”

“To the capital!”

“The capital? But that’s two days away!”

She nodded quickly. “Gives us ample time to get to know each other, Master Ruwa.”

He sighed inwardly. He didn’t really want to get to know her more. That would be life threatening.

“Do as you wish,” he grumbled. “And stop calling me that.”

“Calling you what, Master Ruwa?”

“That!”

“What?”

“Never mind,” he resigned.

Lori broke into loud giggles. She tipped her straw hat and looked at the clear, blue sky.

She had to find Sir Knight before the Rain God found her. He was the only one who could help her, she was convinced. Ever since that day five years ago, she had harbored a secret desire to meet him and to thank him for his kindness that day.

She nodded to herself. It was the only course of action left.

“YES! To the CAPITAL!” she yelled into the open air, scaring the wits out of poor Ruwa who’d been trying to sleep.

(Part 1/3)