Tales are told and weaved throughout time
to one day join the archive of all.
Listen to this tale told long after Queen Serenity
and her beloved Silver Millennium,
long after Uther's son and his violent descent to Avalon,
long after the reign of King Endymion and Neo-Queen Serenity
and their precious Crystal Tokyo
and so long after the remembrance of time
in which our senshi have become mere shadows,
promoted to the wretched position of deities
from what they once were.
Where another figure of power is rising,
reborn in a time so familiar yet so alien.
Where the line of enemy and ally have been redefined,
where the rebirth of our heroes
is either a curse or a saving grace.
Temples of False Promise
Chapter Five: Learning the Dance
Retold by HEL
The day after the events concerning the Lady Chia and the proud warrior, Kikimora, the Isis Clan officially entered the winter side. While many of the gypsies complained, mostly the elders, about the cold and wetness surrounding them, Arthur couldn't be happier. He remembered the bitter cold nights at the temple and how his skin had turned that dreadful blue color, but this was different. This cold came with the snow. Byron tried to give Arthur another detailed explanation about precipitation and how science was actually the cause of this wonder, but Arthur didn't understand it and didn't believe a word of what his father was trying to tell him, this was magic. Clearly a gift from the gods, Byron said the gods could decide on the weather, but they were not the controlling factor in how it was done. Arthur ignored him, Byron gave up and drew his horse next to Aphrodite. For the rest of the day Arthur was in a half daze over the dazzling whiteness and greatness of the snow.
Arthur watched Liley pulled the piece of silk out of thin air. The middle-aged woman was still a beautiful and striking figure and an expert on slight of hand magic tricks. She had admitted that she possessed a bit of magic ability, but not enough to completely make something appear and disappear out of thin air. Her trick was a trick of the eye and she insisted that even the clumsy Arthur, with a bit of practice, could learn to do these tricks too. Arthur was still a bit skeptical, but like Cardon he listened and tried.
When he tried to slip the silk piece into the cuff of his shirt he accidentally got it caught on a button, ripping the beautiful scarf in half. Liley kept her composure but insisted Arthur practice with dishtowels from now on until he learned how to do it quickly and gracefully.
"I don't believe he will ever have to learn such things. Illusions were not what this boy was made for," Byron's voice boomed from the doorway. He had seen Arthur's accident and found the whole thing amusing, Liley did not.
"Don't you laugh," Liley raged at Byron. He tried to keep a straight face, but broke into his trademark grin. "Men!" and with that Liley ordered the two out of her tent.
"What did you mean in there?" Arthur questioned while trying to keep up with his father's longer stride.
"You have talent boy. We all saw that yesterday and no trickery of the mind was involved. You handle a sword like a true master, almost as well as the war goddess Mars is said to. You are quick and light on your feet. These talents are useful," Byron told him.
"Useful? How? A gypsy's job is to entertain a crowd not hack them to micro pieces," Arthur argued.
"You won't be using a sword, you'll be dancing," Byron told him.
"What does dancing have to do with swordplay?" Arthur was diffidently confused. Where was Byron going with all this nonsense talk about dancing.
"Everything. When you are fighting with a sword or any such weapon you build strength and graceful movements. You have to be quick to avoid sword thrusts by your opponents and you have to be able to flex and stretch in some odd ways to avoid getting yourself gutted on another warrior's weapon. These are all important skills in dancing, in there own way," Byron explained. Arthur could see the reasoning behind the older man's words, but him dancing? He was too clumsy.
"Now your probably worried about your clumsiness," Byron said as they reached a tent and stopped outside of it. Arthur looked at him in amazement, how did he know what was on Arthur's mind?
"Lucky guess," Byron grinned and Arthur accepted this. "Your not clumsy when you use a weapon to fight off an attacker. When you are dancing you will get into the same mood you are in when you fight."
"What if I can't do it?" Arthur asked quietly, his voice strained with the nervousness he was feeling.
"I believe in you," was all Byron had to say and Arthur knew that he would try his best to be the best dancer he could be. He had failed at everything else, maybe dancing was his forte.
"You need a teacher and I've got just the person picked out," Byron said and walked into the tent. Arthur followed timidly.
His mouth was agape as he watched the seductry dance of the gorgeous blonde dancing in the open spot in her tent. Byron just grinned at seeing the woman dance to unheard music.
"Aphrodite, I have a new student for you," Byron called out. This seemed to startle Aphrodite and she froze a few moments gazing at her two intruders.
"Not him," she said icily with more venom than a cobra. Byron frowned at her behavior. Arthur wished to hide underneath the nearest boulder and not come out again until Armageddon.
"You'll have to, I will make you," Byron said coolly. Aphrodite just glared at him, but didn't argue further.
"Fine," she hissed. Byron nodded in approval then turned to his son.
"Aphrodite is the best dancer in the whole clan. She puts her heart and soul into her routines. This is her passion and her life. You will be amazed at her skills," Byron said and exited the tent. Arthur didn't say anything about already having a chance to watch Aphrodite dance.
"Well, pipsqueak, I guess I'll have to teach your oafish self how to be a swan," Aphrodite sighed and motioned for Arthur to step closer to her. Mechanically he stepped forward.
"No!" she shouted. "You move like you have something stuck between your legs. Feel the music around you. Dance!" With that Aphrodite broke into a string of complicated moves, twisting and turning in a wild dance.
"There is no music," Arthur stated.
"Arthur, this is going to sound quite cliché, but you have to feel the music even when there is none that your ears can hear," she told him.
"I can't," Arthur pleaded. At the temple feelings and use of imagination were unheard of.
"Arthur move like you did over that bridge that night," she said quietly to him. Arthur blushed with embarrassment, that night was why Aphrodite hated him so.
"Come Arthur, come away with me," she murmured while moving to the sound of her own music. "Let's go back to a simple world where love and honor rang true in the ears of all mortals. Where men and women were still willing to fight to keep their dreams alive."
Arthur closed his eyes and images came to him. Of a exotic raven haired woman with dark plum colored eyes and another women who had to be the most beautiful creature in the world, her sun ripened hair shown in the celestial light around her as her bright blue eyes danced for him. An older boy comforting him after a nightmare. A middle-aged man looking at Arthur with sadness and hope. Arthur felt a sword sink into his gut and he jerked in pain. His eyes fluttered opened and he was still in the tent, but there was a difference, he was moving, moving to the ancient song that he could only hear. Aphrodite was right, there was music, Music in every moment, in every being's life. Music imbedded in the past and past lives. He danced and danced like he was one with the silent song that only he could hear.
"You have talent Arthur," Aphrodite praised. She seemed happy with him now. "All we do is have to fine tune your skills."
Seven years pasted with Arthur dancing and dancing. He traveled from town to town, country to country, over seas and around mountains, from winter to summer, to spring, to autumn, and he danced. His mind grew keener and his senses more alert, his skills grew with sword and the dance. He loved his father, Byron, and he cared for his first teacher, Aphrodite. The Isis Clan grew to except him to the point that they forgot he had ever been just a raggedy boy brought to camp. Arthur's life was normal, the way of a gypsy for he danced and he danced and he danced a little more.