The end of day arrived with thick indigo curtains. But whereas the drapes were closing on one stage, they would shortly open on another. For it was the First of Nìthis and the joyous occasion this date heralded had finally arrived.
The night was waiting. Adélia noticed it in the subtle shift of mood among the castle servants. It was in the lights which flickered around the courtyards like ordered stars. It was in the blank new moon that hung unseen yet tantalisingly close, ready to be redrawn. Fara’ethar anticipated the night’s proceedings with bated breath.
Once a year, the Hall of Revelry was garbed in festal decorations, appropriate attire for hosting a grand banquet. The colours which flooded the Feast Hall on this evening harked back to times before the shadow. The sounds which filled the great hall echoed lighter days before the weight fell. It was the one night when everyone would forget, forget, forget. It was the time for mirth and music and meals to flow with lively energy.
But Adélia could never put that darkness out of mind. She had realised long ago that Ulmìr’s burden lay heavier on her than others. Like the land of Anardes which wilted and withered until it was torn out of shape, so there was something not quite right about her. She knew this. She felt it. She lived it constantly. The five days since the council had only renewed Adélia’s fears. For although she had not let her ailment detract from her military achievements, Adélia wondered how much she could truly give. How much longer could this waning flower hold?
Yet here on this night, she prepared to contribute to that lively energy. That she could do.
‘It’s looking to be a great night out there,’ said Ulfen as she came in through the doors to the parlour and pantry. The master of banquet let in a burst of the festivities before she shut it behind her. ‘How’s everyone holding up in here? I hope we’re nearly ready to go.’
Adélia craned her neck to watch the feastmaster rush through the corridor with determined and efficient steps. She stole a glance at Adélia, who was sitting on a chair before a vanity, being tended to by Fen’asel, and moved on to a cupboard full of crockery. She whistled and several servants appeared as if from nowhere. Ulfen promptly began handing out piles of dishes.
‘Please face forward, my lady,’ Fen’asel said as she pivoted Adélia’s head toward the mirror. The young woman was styling the Amarant’s hair into swirling braids. The scarlet wilderness of Adélia’s curls was being tamed into a crowned plait. She watched her transformation uneasily.
‘I do not see the point of this braiding,’ Adélia said.
‘It’s a party,’ Fen’asel complained. ‘You are to go on stage and sing. You should look even more presentable. Now, hold still, my lady. Not long to go.’
Adélia pouted and stopped her fidgeting, watching Fen’asel sweep over more clumps of hair artfully. The girl’s own hair was already prepared, hanging in a long, braided tail over her shoulder. It was complemented by a loose and layered golden dress reaching all the way to the floor. She sported it all so freely and naturally. The Amarant felt uncomfortable in her silver ball gown. Its long frills seemed redundant. Even outside of her combat gear, she had never needed something so decadent.
‘I know you don’t always do this sort of thing,’ Fen’asel said, ‘with you going away to the forest and to battle and all. This is… a different kind of adventure.’
‘I will trust you with it,’ Adélia said in resignation.
‘Speaking of, you’re travelling to Taeladran very soon, right?’
‘Yes. Tomorrow, in fact.’
‘Must be nice to see the rest of the world so often. I’ve been there once, I think, but I can’t remember much. This was back when father and I delivered a few birds and set up communications with Lord Elan.’
‘Well, you proved useful there, as you do here today. I have faith that you will keep the place in order while I am away.’
Fen’asel smiled as she continued to tug at Adélia’s hair in that elaborate, mystical ritual.
‘Ladies, are you finished?’ Ulfen asked as she popped in from her post, somewhat agitated. She was clearly the lifeblood of activity behind the scenes of the feast.
‘Almost,’ Fen’asel called out.
‘Just a few more minutes,’ she said, nodding. She turned in the direction of the kitchen. ‘Fil! How are the meals coming along?’
‘Nearly done,’ the chef called out from somewhere in the kitchen area.
‘We’ve got hungry people out there,’ Ulfen retorted. ‘It better be ready or I’ll roast and serve you on a platter myself.’
At that moment, Nelesa walked out of her wardrobe in a black flared dress. ‘How does this look?’ she wondered as she tried to glimpse herself in the mirror. Adélia was glad to know that the shy scholar volunteered bravely to join her in this performance. She did not particularly relish the idea of being on stage alone in such ridiculous attire.
‘You look wonderful!’ Fen’asel cried. She skipped over to her and made slight adjustments to Nelesa’s dress, hair, and the black and blue gemmed necklace adorning her neck. ‘You two will be great tonight.’
‘Well, I hope those harp lessons will count for something.’
‘We’ve practiced this,’ Adélia consoled, ‘you’ll do fine.’
Nelesa smiled and gave herself another look in the mirror, twisting and turning.
‘You seem jittery, Nel,’ said Fen’asel as she returned to her task on Adélia’s hair. ‘Might you be on the lookout for someone in particular tonight?’
Nelesa shifted nervously and her eyes dropped to the ground.
‘It’s that boy from Darius’ mane, isn’t it? El’enur?’ Adélia met Nelesa’s gaze in the mirror, and she knew. ‘You’re already good friends, are you not?’
‘Yes, my lady. But it seems… well, I think he has eyes for everyone but me. Pardon me, but I know he fancies you, my lady.’
Adélia realised that one word held all her bitterness and longing. It held her distance and her pain. Her affection for the man who did not see her as she did him.
‘I’m sorry,’ Nelesa said, ‘I spoke rashly. I do not bear any ill will toward you.’
‘El’enur is foolhardy and overly confident. Yet, you truly care for him. I trust you to keep his head on straight. You know him better than anyone. He will see your strength and beauty one day.’
‘You know, for an archer he must have really poor eyesight,’ Fen’asel said. ‘I mean, just look at you.’
Nelesa burst into laughter. ‘You are too kind. Thank you.’
Fen’asel continued her rant, but Adélia’s mind was now elsewhere. She was taken back to the scent of flowers and the sounds of family. She was at the table again in her cosy Luneder home. Her father and her mother sprang to life, ghosts from her memories resurrected, playing out the final scene before the fire.
‘What is love, father?’ Adélia asked between bites of eggs and ham that tasted better than on other days. Her newly-given spear rested at the table, its constant glow a companion.
‘Hmm?’ Menkalinan mumbled as he looked up from his own meal. ‘What has intrigued you?’
‘Old man Dronam gave me a rose today. He said that one day it is to be given to another in love.’
‘Ah, my dove, you are still so young. This may not make sense to you yet. But love is… well, it is that which holds certain people together.’
‘Like you and mother?’ she asked. Menkalinan stole a glance at Cassia, who toiled away at something, as she often did. Even though the feast was already laid out perfectly, Adélia’s mother found something to occupy herself with. She caught him staring and offered a smile back. No words needed be spoken. Perhaps it was then that Adélia truly caught a glimpse of the connection between two souls in love.
‘That is right,’ he said, turning back to the table. ‘Adélia, the world around us is a sad thing in many ways. Light fades away and darkness creeps in. Fire dies down and cold settles. Hate drives men and women asunder. But love is the unquenchable force which holds us together when all else would pull apart. It is the will to fight for that precious spark, the decision to hold on.’
‘And one day I will meet someone who makes me feel like that?’
‘Not just feel, Adélia. It will be someone who encourages you to act. For it will take more than feelings to keep that attraction. It will demand effort and sacrifice. But there is no more worthy cause to be devoted to.’
‘That is why we named you so, Adélia,’ her mother said as she neared the table and set another plate down. ‘We hope you will embody the kind of love that holds back the crumbling of the world, the kind of strength and service that lays itself down for the good of others…’
‘And done!’ Fen’asel cried. Her voice tore through the memories. Adélia was once again in the parlour of the Feast Hall. She looked at herself in the mirror. Fen’asel’s handiwork was complete and complemented by interspersed flowers. Bright yellows and whites arrayed her scarlet crown. She thanked Fen’asel and rose just as Ulfen arrived. ‘It’s time,’ the feastmaster announced.
Adélia and Nelesa walked toward the entrance of the Feast Hall. This may have been a night to forget the troubles wrought by an unloving tyrant and a malicious force, but it was also a night to remember fellowship and friends. It was a time to recall what one fought for. Because as the world fell apart, there were still threads holding people together. Unspoken bonds. Indescribable links which held off the advance of darkness and its separation. Even if she could no longer sense her own, Adélia strived to strengthen them in those around her.
* * *
Asphales was surrounded by a crowd. He was lost in the bedlam of hundreds of roistering people. Though the night had barely begun, men were rowdily calling for drinks to slake their thirst. Mirth rang through the rafters, and filtering starlight mingled with the playful fires of the feast. Fara’ethar knew how to throw a party, it seemed.
Even the setting was foreign to Asphales, for he had never celebrated in anything larger than a tavern. The Feast Hall dwarfed the Waypoint inn, both in size and ornamentation. Dozens of tables seating up to twenty people lined the room in connected rows. They were arranged so as to allow easy viewing of a large stage framed by black curtains at the rear of the chamber. Currently, the stage was empty save for an unattended harp.
Around the hall, exquisitely-shaped torches filled the gaps between windows. Banners sporting the Lion of Anardes in black and gold hung beneath these lamps. Higher up, among the beams and overpassing arches of engraved steel, ornate chandeliers were suspended along the room’s breadth. The entire hall was bathed in dazzling gold light.
No feast was complete without its accompanying smells, of course. Whereas the aroma of drink floated aplenty, overpowering even the collective odour of closely-packed guests, a fresh, more pleasant smell began wafting in from the kitchens. Asphales suspected the Empire had spared no expense catering for an occasion such as this.
At his own table, Asphales was seated with only a few people he recognised. A few seats across from him, Valinos was chatting to someone. Farther down at a table, Amarant Darius, Nadros, and El’enur were enjoying conversation and their drink. Asphales also picked out Guldar easily in the crowd. No matter how he looked at it, the grizzled commander reminded him of a boulder. Sturdy and solid. Only this boulder could speak and spit and drink.
Master Arhavel was sipping his brew quietly next to him. He seemed to be the only reserved person among the boisterous throng.
‘What are we celebrating?’ Asphales asked the old man. ‘Does this happen every year?’
Arhavel downed more of his drink before answering. ‘It’s called the Feast of Starlight. Yes, every year we do this. But I’m sure you know why this night is special. We’re celebrating you, master Asphales. We celebrate hope. So come, drink up.’ The scholar raised his mug again, waiting for a toast. Asphales lifted his wine goblet. The vessels clinked and Asphales braced himself for the fiery sensation pouring down his throat.
‘Are scholars shy of something with a strong kick, Arhavel?’ the man directly across from Asphales asked. ‘Is this the year you try a real drink?’ The man’s complexion was one of angles and jagged edges. His simple, square face and neatly trimmed but whitening beard commended his respectability. A warrior, perhaps.
‘We’re not exactly afraid,’ the older man retorted, ‘but it does cloud the judgment, I find. And some of us have to get to work in the morning.’
The man chuckled. ‘You learned types are a riot.’ He then turned to Asphales and a look of recognition crossed his face. ‘You’re the lad I toppled over on my way out. Sorry about that, boy. Darius’ horse is a bit of a wild one.’
Asphales recalled the incident. He had been too distracted to mind it much. ‘No harm done,’ he said.
‘Ishak Rynell,’ the man said with an offered hand.
‘Asphales Esélinor,’ he answered, returning the gesture.
‘Yeah, you’re the talk of the castle, boy. You and Lady Catena both. I never guessed that things would turn out this way for my own commander.’
‘Oh, you’re the infantry mane’s second-in-command.’
‘Bah,’ Ishak blurted. ‘At this feast, I’m just another man like you, enjoying a drink.’
‘At least you handle your spear half as well as you do your drink, Ishak,’ Arhavel said with a smile. ‘Otherwise, you’d be out of a job.’
Ishak smiled and toasted the older man. ‘To honest work and honourable friends.’
Asphales took another swig. Just then, a bright flash shone for a moment in the direction of the chief table. All heads in the room turned toward the spectacle and conversations died down. The noise significantly dropped. Amaleron was standing, staff in hand. Asphales noticed servants moving into position around the hall.
Arhavel groaned. ‘That’s one way to grab our attention, old man.’
‘Beloved guests, it is my pleasure to welcome you to this year’s Feast of Starlight,’ the steward said. ‘Tonight we rejoice in hope and in friendship. By all means, enjoy yourselves. Meals will come out momentarily. Prior to that, however, we do have a very special performance.’ The steward sat back down briskly.
On cue, the lights around the room went out. Only the dim, golden glow of the chandeliers remained. The curtains of the stage rolled back and two figures emerged. Two women took up position, one by the harp, one closer to the edge of the platform. Asphales suddenly realised that the woman about to sing was none other than Adélia. She appeared different, dressed in a rich, silver gown, but it was her unmistakeable scarlet hair that identified her. And even from this distance the radiance of her emerald eyes was salient.
As the harp strings started to resonate, sending out pensive melodies, the room hushed. All were drawn in. And Adélia sang. Her longing voice filled the song in the way sweet spring envelops a forest after frost.
Caressed by wind and touched by water soft
The forest trees so sigh and sing and swoon
My home enveloped shut yet held aloft
Alive with sun and threads of sleeping moon
Between the dark above and black below
My heart at rest in wealds where nights abound
Beneath the wand’ring gaze of glittered glow
Suspended, lost, and yet completely found
Far older than the woods and now awake
Ten thousand eyes that keep a vigil sight
On passing tide, a dusk our time won’t shake
But longer still I’ll wait for morning bright
Wherein the flowers hidden things confide
There ever and forever I’ll abide
When the song ended, each person still reeled silently. There was no thunderous applause. Not immediately. The feast hall held its breath as the last notes plucked on the harp faded and the final chord resolved. It savoured the vanishing echoes of Adélia’s ballad.
Then a steady rising chant and cheer.
Clapping like the long crash of a deafening ocean wave.
Adélia bowed. Asphales watched her. His eyes latched onto her smile, all paper-thin and frail. It was the most beautiful and broken thing he’d ever seen.
It was a long time after the torches were relit that conversation picked up again and liveliness returned.
‘Now that doesn’t happen every year,’ Arhavel said as he finally turned away from the stage. ‘So rare to be serenaded by the likes of Lady Catena herself. It’s lovely to see their talents used outside of the battlefield.’
‘I’m real good with numbers,’ Ishak offered, ‘but that helps out in wartime as well.’ He shrugged. ‘So you could say I’m multi-talented. What are you going to do, Arhavel? Hit someone over the head with a book?’
‘If I had one on hand, I just might.’
Asphales snickered as he sipped his goblet. Here were two men who represented both of his interests at odds with one another. He breathed contentedly as the wine finally took its pleasurable effect. Asphales was starting to enjoy the feast, the chaos of being crammed among countless people revelling in the night. Even if, as was the case in front of him, that sometimes led to friendly banter and mild insults.
Both scholar and soldier were distracted from their squabble when servants burst through the doors carrying platters. Food was the great equaliser, it seemed. Most of the feast hall’s attention was diverted once more as eager guests were on the lookout for workers visiting their tables.
Asphales recognised the maid from the Commons leading the procession. She was coordinating with a man across the room, speedily delivering meals to each table. This was the first time he had glimpsed the other master in charge of Fara’ethar’s banquets, trade, and commerce. Young, handsome, and well-built, the man moved around the room with dark and distinctive, windswept hair.
Other servants followed in pairs, hauling large trays filled with pork ribs and lamb chops or delivering pots of stew. Men called out their thanks as the clatter of plates landing on tables filled the evening.
Soon, the master of banquet raced to Asphales’ table. She appeared to be competing with the other man to see who could serve more dishes. Since Asphales’ table was set up near the centre of the room, both feastmasters arrived simultaneously. It was the woman who placed Asphales’ meal down. His plate was chocked full of food. The beef cut served in mushroom gravy, battered fish slices, salted potatoes, carrots and olives, and varied salads more numerous than he could name, all set his mouth watering. Buttered bread rolls and cream-garnished garlic loaves quickly accompanied the main dish.
‘Thank you,’ he said.
The woman nodded and then returned to her duties. As she stepped back, the two feastmasters bumped into each other. They held one another’s gaze for just a second longer than they should have, and in that moment Asphales saw it. There was strong infatuation between them but neither was willing to disclose their feelings. Both of them stole surreptitious glances like shooting stars when the other turned away.
‘Ulfen and Filarin have really outdone themselves this year,’ Ishak said between mouthfuls.
Asphales sliced a chunk of his beef and brought it to his mouth. The quality of the meat was exquisite indeed. Succulent, perfectly cooked, and spiced with incredible aromas, the beef left its delightful presence long after it went down. And yet Asphales could not take his mind off what he had seen. He wondered if others knew of the feastmasters’ attraction. He looked around, but all eyes were fixed on meals, and all mouths were busy either chewing or chatting with their immediate neighbours.
‘Ishak, I don’t mean to pry,’ Asphales said, ‘but is there something going on between the two masters of the feast?’
‘Hmm? Oh, Ulfen and Filarin?’ Ishak paused as he wolfed down a large portion of meat and a helping of potatoes. ‘Those two are hopelessly in love and unaware. Everyone knows it. But there’s nothing wrong with that. Carinae made us to love.’
Asphales smiled and took another bite of his meal.
‘Not that it’s my business, but do you fancy anyone?’ Ishak asked, leaning in. ‘Is there someone waiting back home?’
‘Back there?’ Asphales said, ‘No. There was a girl once. We were both very young. We promised each other but it came to nothing. As we grew older, the prejudices of the place I lived in took over and she was given to someone else in marriage.’
‘Sorry to hear that. Forgive my prying, young man, but is there anyone you’ve met here, then? I know you haven’t been here all that long, but is there someone who’s taken your interest?’
Asphales unintentionally let his gaze wander. He eyed Adélia, who was now sitting at a nearby table. Asphales could not deny it. He felt something for her. From his initial meeting with the knight among the flowers in Gohenur, something had drawn him to this woman. More than her beauty, more than her poise, more than her kind demeanour. It went beyond her wisdom, her skill with song and spear, her generosity. Asphales could not yet place it, but he knew he longed for her in a way unlike anything he had felt before. He turned back to the conversation. Ishak had caught it. He knew.
‘Ah, so that’s how it is,’ Ishak said. His voice was solemn.
‘I—’
‘I don’t blame you, boy. She’s strong, beautiful. Countless men have set their sights on her over time. But she has warded them all off. Not for fickleness or indecision, you see. Not because of some smug sense of superiority or distance.’ Ishak considered his next words and lowered his voice. ‘I warn you, she is… broken. I don’t know from what, I don’t know if anyone does, but she is hurt. That girl is in need of mending.
‘Some design has bound you two together as children of starlight. I can’t imagine the loneliness she’s felt over the years. Or the relief that washed over her when she found you, another one like her. Look, she may not need someone to win her heart right now. I hope you know that. But she does need someone by her side. Someone with whom to share this task. You both do.’
Asphales weighed the man’s words. ‘Thank you, Ishak. I won’t do anything imprudent.’
‘I pray you don’t. You’re a fine man, Asphales. I’m not sure what will come of this, but be patient, lad.’
Asphales nodded. Ishak pulled away back to his seat, finished his ale, and stretched his neck. Sounds of the party seemed to bleed back in. ‘I could do with more food,’ he said. ‘I think I will grab some of the pork ribs. You want any?’
‘Yes, please.’
Ishak stood up and wandered off into the cacophony of the feast, hunting for trays that had not been picked clean. Asphales remained with his reflections. He stared into his swirling cup. He though back to the commander’s words as the ripples settled.
Then, music picked up again in the Feast Hall, distracting him. Figures re-emerged on the stage. The same harpist as earlier took up position. This time, however, a male and a female joined her. The two figures danced as a rolling melody erupted from her instrument. Other musicians came out also. She was accompanied by an energetic lutist who could not have been older than fifteen. A percussionist appeared last of all, driving the rhythm of the piece and occasioning cheers and claps from the audience. The two dancing figures weaved in and out of each other’s grasp. Their spinning motions threw up blurs of colour. Finally, their movements slowed, they drew close together, and the two began a duet of entwining voices.
How strange the turnings of the mortal heart
No mind can fathom or unveil its will
Were I to halt its force or tempt to still
In wonder wrapped
How strong does love its scrutiny impart
Somewhere beyond a blizzard and its bliss
Our passion burns, a ripe and reddened flame
Were I to snuff its heat or try to tame
I would be trapped
Somewhere between a kindle and a kiss
The onlookers showered their approval vocally. Many stood to offer their enthusiastic ovation. Even the man sitting to the left of Asphales, a scarred, burly warrior with seemingly no artistic bone in his body, whistled his appreciation. Amidst this acclamation, Ishak returned, apparently oblivious to what the spectators had witnessed.
‘What did I miss?’ he asked as he sat down with two plates of juicy pork ribs. He slid one across to Asphales.
‘Just a cultured performance,’ Arhavel quipped, ‘nothing you would’ve appreciated.’ The scholar turned to Asphales and winked.
Ishak muttered something unpleasant, but the force of his words was muffled by a mouthful of pork.
‘You’re just proving my point, Rynell,’ said Arhavel while taking a smug sip of his drink.
Asphales laughed as he bit into a pork rib. Juices seeped into his mouth and the taste overwhelmed him. ‘Is it always like this around here?’
‘Don’t be misled,’ Ishak said, ‘we also get up to serious business at Fara’ethar. When we have time.’
Arhavel chuckled and set his mug down. ‘But nights like this are all too rare. So go on, master Asphales, smile and jest. Show the world that the Dragonking could not take away our joy.’
‘And as for what has been stolen,’ Ishak said, ‘we will stand and fight and take it all back. How does that sound, lad? Could you get behind that cause?’
Asphales looked around, taking in the festivities once more. This was what held people together in the wake of devastation. The coming force of darkness would silence all the songs and crush all bonds of fellowship. It would merely destroy. Asphales determined not to let that happen.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I could.’
* * *
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Darius smiled as the warm touch of the ale settled in his stomach and the ridiculous flair of El’enur’s story raptly drew in the listeners around his table. The Amarant noted with some disapproval that several of the handmaidens had been distracted from their task to listen to him. Still, Darius had to hand it to El’enur. He knew how to hold a crowd.
‘So there I was,’ the young archer said, ‘about two hundred yards from the creature. An unearthly fog had come down and I could barely see a thing. It was cold. My hands were unsteady on the bow. My fingers trembled.’
‘Maybe ‘cause you were scared,’ Guldar offered as he took a draught of beer. Clearly, he was not enamoured with the tale.
‘Shh,’ El’enur snapped. ‘Let me tell the story.’ Guldar mocked a gesture of deferral.
‘I was crouched in a thicket,’ El’enur continued, returning to his perch and waving his goblet, ‘and I knew in front of me somewhere, death waited. It was time to act. I strained my eyes and ears in the dark. There was a rustle ahead. I calmed myself, took a breath’—El’enur paused dramatically, mimicking the action—‘and released the arrow.’
‘What happened next?’ spoke an enraptured voice.
‘He woke up,’ Guldar cut in. Those seated around him roared in laughter. Nadros spit out his beer and banged on the table. Darius simply chuckled and shook his head.
El’enur scowled but continued on unperturbed once the laughter died down. ‘No, the beast collapsed with a shriek that filled the night. Then I heard nothing more but the falling snow. I had won.’ He sat down triumphantly. ‘And that’s how I took down a Kerenan bear.’
‘That’s ludicrous,’ Nadros said, ‘but I’m sure this is why we all love dining with you, El’enur.’
‘Mind you, Darius here did the same thing,’ Guldar said. ‘He was younger, too.’
‘And he has the proof, right there on his shoulders,’ one of the men pointed out, running his hand over the fur around Darius’ neck.
Darius fixed a cold stare onto the man. ‘Don’t touch the pelt,’ he said. ‘Last time someone did… well, let’s just say he had to eat with his feet.’
The man drew his hand back as if he had just touched a hot stove. El’enur and Guldar turned away, pursing their lips as if attempting to hold something in. Then they both burst into laughter.
‘I’m joking, of course,’ Darius said. The man chuckled nervously, but was still visibly relieved to still be in possession of his hands.
‘That’s an old one,’ El’enur said. ‘You need some new material.’
‘Like El’enur here,’ Guldar chimed. ‘He’s always spinning new tales from who-knows-where.’
‘What really happened, Darius?’ asked Nadros. ‘Did El’enur actually slay such a beast?’
‘He did,’ Darius said. But before the crowd’s admiration got too out of hand, he added, ‘a small one.’
El’enur shrugged. ‘A win is a win.’ He signalled to one of the servants for a drink. The maid came by, carrying a pitcher, and refilled his goblet. Several others at the table did likewise.
‘Would you like anything else, sirs?’ she asked.
‘The pleasure of your company,’ El’enur said, ‘preferably away from these boors.’
There was a collective groan from those seated around him. Darius thumped the young man with his foot under the table. ‘What he means to say is: Thank you for the drink,’ he said.
‘And another coffee for me, please,’ Guldar requested.
The servant nodded and rushed off.
‘Look at that, Guldar,’ said El’enur, ‘always scaring the ladies away.’
‘Weren’t you just swooning over Lady Catena a few minutes ago?’
‘Aye, she was fantastic,’ El’enur began elatedly, ‘like a… like a full moon on a cloudy night. Except, I mean, you can see this moon. And it’s beautiful and silver. So, she was more like a…’
‘What?’ Nadros asked, cringing.
‘Pipe down before you hurt yourself,’ Guldar said. ‘I know you loved the song but even I can tell poetry isn’t your thing, boy.’
‘Just like style isn’t yours,’ El’enur said under his breath, running a hand through his rich, golden hair. Nadros chuckled, seemingly having caught the archer’s quip.
Darius glanced at the stage. Young Nelesa was still on there, plucking away a gentle melody on her harp. He sighed inwardly and turned back to the table. Oh, El’enur. Darius looked at the young man, so confident and yet so ignorant. So competent and yet so untested in life’s matters. The Amarant had appointed El’enur not simply because of his skill, but because he was reminded of himself. Or rather, what he would have been like had he remained uncorrupted and pure.
Darius wanted to groom El’enur into a young leader without the bitterness that war-torn age brings. A leader who knew what he fought for. Unclouded by deception and mistakes. Sure, the lad had a big head. He was oblivious to many things. But he had a good heart. Time would teach him wisdom and humility.
Just then, a chair scraped noisily against the stone floor. A figure pulled up and sat at the table. Lilac perfume made a woman’s presence known. She had luscious black hair tied in a bun, full lips the colour of sunset, and a shapely face—high cheekbones and nary a wrinkle on her unmarred, tanned skin. Her slender form was garbed in a formal velvet jerkin donned over a white shirt with flared sleeves and jet leather trousers. Although she wore nothing ostentatious—certainly nothing as elaborate as some of the other women in their dresses—she still carried herself with an air of dignity.
‘Evening, boys,’ she said, eyeing the seated men sharply. Her jade eyes leered wolfishly beneath sharp, arched eyebrows. She tapped on the table with polished fingernails, as if awaiting recognition.
‘Leara, is that you?’ Nadros asked. ‘Blackened bones, what’s happened to you? Didn’t recognise you without your hat.’
‘Some nights call for something new,’ she said with a dismissing wave of her arm. The men around the table followed her motions like children fixated on a magician’s sleight-of-hand.
‘Hi there,’ El’enur said. ‘I… uh…’
‘Get a hold of yourselves, you bloody fools,’ Leara said suddenly, dropping the act of the seductress, an act that Darius was sure had left them all short of breath. Her gaze changed, her posture shifted. Her voice abandoned honey-smoothness and took on the rough edges of the sea. Leara returned to being her regular self, the hardy sub-commander of Fara’ethar’s navy. Beautiful, no less.
‘Well, if we ever need a man… distracted,’ Nadros said, ‘we know whom to call on.’
‘Can’t say I’ll oblige,’ she retorted. ‘I know my way around a ship far better than any beauty parade. I don’t see the use of this is at sea.’
‘We were just surprised to see you out of your work attire.’
‘What, I can’t dress womanly, Guldar?’ she said with a smile.
‘Where have you been, Lady Arandel?’ asked Darius.
Leara signalled for a drink. ‘Well, some of us had business to attend to. Old man, we’re leaving for Sanaros tomorrow,’ she said, pointing an accusatory finger at Nadros. ‘The Golden Sunset would lie anchored and useless if it weren’t for me.’
‘Always trust you with the paperwork, I say,’ the old sailor said with a wink.
‘Did you just get here now?’ El’enur asked.
Leara scrunched her features and looked over vaguely to the other side of the hall. ‘No. I was cajoled into sitting with ‘my own kind’ at first. Those despicable dames. But you know how my mother is. Had to play my part. Still, I grew tired of the gossip.’
‘So you sought better company,’ Darius offered.
‘Well, certainly not cleaner company on the outside. But there’s no one else I’d trust to have my back.’
The men at the table laughed and raised their drinking vessels.
‘You are beautiful woman,’ said Kelon suddenly. He was a man who shared Guldar’s origin but not his proficiency in the common tongue. The former mercenary loomed over the table, his size and build customary of the mountain folk. His face may have been fetching once, but was now decorated with scars. The man’s nose had also seen better days. Sandstone-coloured hair sat unruly atop his head. Kelon’s mouth bore the marks of severe damage, and when he spoke, his voice had all the melodious quality of a grindstone.
‘What was that?’ Leara asked, leaning over to the man who had spoken so openly.
‘Among my people, green is colour of beauty,’ Kelon said.
‘Would you like to find out the colour of blood?’ she asked testily. ‘Among my people, it’s the mark of a good beating.’
Leara’s comments drew more laughter from those around the table. Kelon himself took it in good jest and smiled. ‘You are tough,’ he said. ‘Is good.’
‘Darius, who is this?’ asked Leara.
‘Kelon here is a new recruit into the mane. Sellsword from Undorn looking to fight for something proper. Known him since way back in Sanaros.’ At his introduction, Kelon straightened up. The motion flexed his considerable muscles, which were barely covered by the fur vest he wore.
‘So, you are replacing Ledner,’ Leara said. ‘May he and all his men find rest.’
‘Is right. I grateful to Darius for offer to join.’
‘Hope he fights better than he speaks,’ she said.
‘I can vouch for that,’ Darius said simply.
A maid finally came around with Leara’s drink. She took it and began to swig it immediately. ‘Something with a real bite at last,’ she said, clearly relishing its flavour. ‘Well, at least there’s that. You’re one of us now, Kelon.’ She raised her mug. ‘To brothers in arms.’
‘And brothers of blood,’ El’enur added as he joined the toast. The others repeated the words. They raised their cups to the fallen captain’s memory. There was a moment of silence, a pocket of solemnity in the midst of the feast’s frivolity. The cups clanked down in unison.
‘So, what’d I miss?’ Leara asked.
‘Just the usual,’ Guldar said. ‘El’enur here attempted to flirt with every maiden in sight.’ El’enur scoffed.
Leara rolled her eyes. ‘Remember what happened when he tried that on Lady Catena?’
‘I’d rather not,’ the archer said petulantly.
Nadros chuckled. ‘I don’t think I’ve heard this story. What did she do to him?’
Leara leaned in conspiratorially. ‘Well, the lady was too gentle to do anything. But Darius here…’ All eyes turned to the Amarant.
Darius laughed. ‘I did what was needed to teach him a lesson.’
El’enur rubbed at imaginary soreness on his arm. ‘Couldn’t shoot straight for a tide. I was young and foolish to go after her.’
‘Has anything changed?’ Guldar goaded. ‘You just picked the girl with the meanest guard dog. You’ve got no one but yourself to blame when he bites.’
Darius smiled and took a drink. ‘Ah, that was back before the lady was even an Amarant. El’enur had just joined the mane.’
‘I’ve had more successes since then,’ El’enur said proudly.
‘I’d hoped you’d matured as well,’ Leara said.
‘Well, the lad could become the youngest Amarant,’ Nadros said. ‘Lady Catena was twenty-one. He hasn’t even hit twenty.’
‘I’m too humble to take that position. My current status is just fine.’
‘You?’ Guldar burst. ‘You’re as humble as a drunken king!’
‘So you agree I am a king! That’s right, I wouldn’t want to be showing up our dear Amarant here at half his age.’ El’enur offered Darius a pitying look.
Darius laughed. ‘Watch it, boy. I could make that damage more… permanent.’
‘You wouldn’t cripple your best archer,’ El’enur said.
‘If I hadn’t loved the sea more than weapons,’ Leara said, ‘I likely would have broken you on my way to the top.’
Kelon guffawed at her comment. Nadros had trouble keeping his beer in once again. People from other tables looked on at the revelry, confused.
‘How about you, old man?’ Leara said, turning to the sailor. ‘Ready to pass on your position? You’re so ancient you may as well be an Elder!’
‘Now hang on there just a minute,’ Nadros retorted, ‘I prefer to think of myself as well-lived. I could tell you young’uns a thousand stories. You’ve got much to learn.’
‘I have story to tell,’ said Kelon eagerly. ‘Once there was man who try take me on. We fight for glory of mountains and hand of maiden.’
‘And? What happened?’
‘His skull crack like oranges.’
Guldar cracked up uncontrollably. Everyone else was left in stone-faced silence.
‘That’s not a story, you oaf,’ Leara said. Kelon shrugged.
‘Oh, you don’t get it,’ Guldar said, wiping tears. ‘In our dialect, ‘orange’ sounds like… ah, never mind.’
‘Well, I didn’t choose him for his storytelling,’ Darius said with a chuckle. ‘But if he can do that in battle, I’m all for it. Now, let’s drink up and make the most of this night.’
Leara narrowed her eyes at the Amarant. ‘You’re looking more relaxed, Darius. We should have you around more like this.’
‘Heh,’ Darius said, raising his shoulders.
‘Yes,’ Guldar said. ‘Take things easier, man.’ Darius met his friend’s gaze. Unspoken tension passed between them. He knew what the sub-commander was referring to.
‘Alright,’ Leara announced, ‘I’m going to find more food. Those dames eat like birds. If anyone wants anything’—those at the table looked up hopefully—‘they’ll have to get it themselves. Keep these clods out of trouble, Darius.’ She rose and left, taking the lilac scent with her. Heads turned to watch her pass through. The crowd parted like leaves before the wind.
‘You know,’ Nadros said quietly as he leaned over to the Amarant, ‘men would be jealous if they saw how she looks at you.’
‘Ah, I have not noticed,’ Darius lied.
‘Never thought about it? She’s, what, thirty and not spoken for. Ever had a mind to settle down?’
‘No,’ he said darkly. ‘I don’t deserve anyone like that.’ He folded his hands together, not wishing to discuss it further. Nadros pouted and returned to his place, running a hand through his beard.
‘There’s my coffee,’ Guldar exclaimed as a servant came around with a jug. She refilled his mug. ‘Thank you,’ he said.
Kelon sneered. ‘Is drink for goats.’
Guldar placed his mug down gently after taking a sip. ‘Kelon here never learned what it means to be civilised.’
‘If you’re civilised,’ El’enur quipped, ‘then I am a rainbow horse.’
‘Civility is for old men,’ said Kelon.
‘Alright,’ Guldar declared as he pushed his mug away and pulled up the sleeves of his cuffed shirt, ‘let’s settle this.’ The two men cleared their area of the table and linked arms. A traditional contest of strength. ‘Darius, you mind startin’ us off?’
Darius shrugged and checked that their hands were level. He tapped their arms to signal the beginning of the arm wrestle.
Almost immediately, the strain on the contestants’ arms made the table quiver. El’enur and Nadros looked on bewildered. Darius watched the men face off. Their arms bulged under the stress and their faces constrained with tension.
‘Oi, they’s having a duel,’ someone called out. More onlookers arrived, crowding the table. Darius noticed Guldar’s children, Sela and Feri, snake through bodies to sneak a look at their father.
‘Make it beautiful, Guldar,’ said Darius, ‘you’ve got a lot of admirers.’
‘Do it, da!’ Feri cried.
Guldar grunted. With one forceful push, he slammed Kelon’s hand into the table. A loud clatter came down as the spectators’ cheers went up. The man groaned in pain. Guldar raised his hands victoriously and bellowed a war cry.
‘For goat, you fight very good,’ Kelon said, panting.
‘Thank you. Ah, I’m on fire. Darius, how about a round?’
Without a word, Darius took up position. Kelon moved over. Guldar cracked his hands in preparation. The crowd took up their chant, one half shouting for the Amarant, the other supporting the burly commander.
‘Are you a betting man?’ El’enur asked Nadros.
But no sooner had Kelon readied the men than Guldar’s arm crashed into the table. The crowd hushed. Mouths gaped open.
Then laughter broke out.
‘What’s in your arms, man?’ Guldar whimpered as he massaged his wrist. ‘Steel and stone?’
‘Kerenan blood.’
‘Wolf stronger than goat,’ Kelon commented.
‘How about I interest you in another kind of contest?’ Guldar collected his dignity and reached into the coat hanging by his chair. He brought out a deck of cards. Darius sighed.
‘Do you always have simeh on hand?’ El’enur asked.
‘Always. Now, this’ll teach you some humility, boy. Because sometimes in life you’ll run into somethin’ insurmountable. That’s me with cards in my hand.’
‘Can you even still hold them, after what Darius did?’ El’enur taunted.
Guldar bared his teeth impolitely at the young archer then faced the crowd. ‘Anyone here’s free to join,’ he said in a challenging tone as he shuffled the cards. ‘You in as well, Darius? You won’t win this one easily.’
The Amarant smiled. Leara was right. His usual guarded and tensed nature was eased. He felt the tension slacken, like a taut pulley relieved of its load. Darius still bore the flame, but here at Fara’ethar, in this moment, he belonged like fire in a hearth. It was not destructive. Could he once more be a warming ember rather than a scorching coal?
‘I’ll do it, why not? I’ll show you how the wolf preys.’
* * *
Valinos stuffed another slice of honey-balsamic marinaded lamb into his mouth and looked around the Feast Hall. He wondered why Fen’asel was tarrying. She had said she would meet him. He could not pick her out anywhere in the mass of heads and bodies spread before him. After a moment, he took a nervous bite of potato and downed it with a strange-tasting cider. Acrid hints of apple left their mark on his tongue.
Some of his table had cleared out, dispersed to see some petty strength contest. His previous conversation partner, a sailor with a penchant for crudeness, had left as well. The man had expressed his disbelief at current events with artfully crafted curses and now seemed interested in the competition with equally coloured admiration. But the excitement was short-lived. The commotion had died down with a plate-rattling slam. Valinos’ money was on Amarant Darius.
A woman with raven hair and jade eyes carrying a dish strolled toward their table. Valinos recognised her as the navy’s sub-commander from the meeting a tide ago. A faint, pleasant fragrance crept into his nostrils as she passed by. She seemed alarmed by the goings-on at Darius’ table and picked up her pace.
‘I take my eyes off you for one moment and you wreck the place,’ she yelled. ‘Leave any fun for me, at least?’
‘I’m happy to have your eyes back on me,’ El’enur called out.
‘Shut up.’
The woman’s companions laughed. El’enur retreated with a dejected look. Valinos would have observed their antics longer had a figure not approached his table and taken a seat. He spun, but it was not Fen’asel sitting across from him.
‘I don’t think I’ve met you, lad,’ an older man said. ‘Hasel Erilen, at your service.’ He had a pleasant voice, befitting his kindly appearance. Mellow eyes peered under sagging brows, but they were a keen, lively brown. His beard framed a gentle face and barely clung on to the colour of its youth, whereas the man’s hair had abandoned all hope. Solitary strands stuck out near his ears like patchy vegetation on a cliff side. The top of his head was as barren and pocked as the full moon. Still, dressed in an ultramarine silken doublet, Hasel comported himself with propriety.
But beside all this, Valinos realised something crucial. This was the man in charge of Birdswatch. He had finally come face to face with someone who may provide answers.
‘Good evening. Valinos of Silnodìr.’
‘Yes, I know. I’ve been meaning to talk to you, if you have a moment.’
Valinos took another sip of his drink. ‘That makes two of us.’
‘You see, certain rumours have reached my ears.’
‘Oh?’ For a moment, Valinos worried. The man before him was also Fen’asel’s father, after all. Perhaps he would bring up the subject of how much time he had spent with the girl lately.
‘Yes, I am not quite sure what to think of these… disturbing developments. I am told you accompanied Asphales Esélinor and the Imperial guard. What brings you to Fara’ethar?’
‘A very curious message.’ Valinos breathed a sigh of relief, disguising it as an appreciative sigh of the cider.
‘That’s precisely what I want to speak about. What can you tell me of it?’
‘Well, it was brought by Gidius as we set out. Captain Ledner received it and reported nothing suspicious. He was concerned, but showed us the contents. It read ‘Bring the armourer’s apprentice also.’ That’s me. That’s how I got here.’ Valinos left the words hanging.
Hasel’s eyes widened, but what flashed on the man’s face did not seem to be the recognition Valinos had been seeking. Hasel had caught on to something else. His lips twitched and his eyebrows furrowed.
‘Hmm,’ he intoned, ‘that does seem troubling. The armourer’s apprentice… So you’re Paran’s boy.’
The words caught him like a sudden storm. ‘What?’
‘How is your father doing?’
Valinos wanted to correct him. To confess that he despised the man. To reveal that he was galled by the notion of Paran’s fatherhood. ‘Fine. So you know Paran?’ was all he could say.
‘Aye. You were a wee lad when I first came by. Not surprised you don’t remember. Back eighteen-course or so we had heard of a skilled smithy in the north. I was sent to negotiate and to establish a messaging system. That’s how Fara’ethar ended up enlisting the services of Silnodìr’s arms and armour production. I offered Paran a chance to move closer, at least south of the Valarion, but he refused every time. Said he liked it there. So, easiest way to keep in contact is through the eagles.’
‘Huh. Is that so?’
‘Aye. I haven’t actually seen the man in quite a few years. He always said he’d rear you up to follow his steps. Still, who would have thought I’d run into his son in such circumstances?’
‘So then… the message.’
‘Right,’ he said, snapping as if from a long diversion. ‘Sorry, it just took me by surprise is all.’
‘I’m as surprised as you are, sir.’
Hasel gestured dismissively. ‘Ah, don’t worry about the sir, boy. It’s like you’re trying to pamper me for something. Far as I’m concerned, you’re like a family friend. Now, what I’ve to say about the message isn’t so pleasant. I have no memory of writing such a thing.’
The disappointment came like the blast of a lightning strike.
‘If that’s truly what you read,’ Hasel continued, his features crinkling into unease for the first time, ‘then we still have to figure this one out.’
Valinos’ face fell. So this was it. The trail had led to a fruitless end. He could not help tightening his fists. He felt a wisp, a thin cloud of some bottled anger form in his mind. Why had he been toyed with so? Why had he been treated like the butt of a joke?
Damn it.
‘Look, lad,’ Hasel said, placing a consoling hand on Valinos’ shoulder, ‘perhaps the message you received had been altered or corrupted. It’s a common tactic in wartime. And judging by the Order’s movements, it is war they’re after.’
‘You really think the Order’s clutches reach so far?’ Valinos asked, voicing his concern. He reflected on the message. It seemed so genuine, bearing the seal of Fara’ethar, as far as he could tell. Whoever had fashioned it had even known his occupation.
‘Who really knows? They’re crafty, though. And I wanted to advise you. Be careful. It looks like they’re after you, for whatever reason.’
‘Yeah,’ Valinos said blankly, ‘another thing to discover.’
‘Stay strong, lad. Now, forgive me,’ he said as he stood, ‘I’ve other guests to entertain. I’ll leave you to your thoughts.’
‘When you visited,’ Valinos said before the man could walk away, ‘did you ever… bring Fen’asel along?’
Hasel turned back with a curious glint in his eyes. ‘You’ve met my daughter, I presume.’
There was a rush in Valinos’ stomach. It was accompanied by a sudden clarity of mind, like the morning birdsong after a squall.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘She’s quite impressive.’ The old man gave him a sour look. ‘I mean,’ Valinos blurted, ‘watching her work at Birdswatch… it’s a real joy.’
‘Aye, she has a way with birds that surpasses even my expertise,’ said Hasel, smiling. ‘No, she was too young to come along with me back then. Look, you take good care of her now,’ he added knowingly and turned away. The man’s footsteps faded into obscurity as the noises of the feast grew again. Valinos was alone once more. He looked across his table. Amarant Darius’ entourage had quieted down slightly as a card game was under way.
Before Valinos could retreat into his thoughts, someone nudged his shoulder and jumped into a seat next to him.
‘Hello, you!’ Fen’asel’s singsong voice called out. Valinos was still taken aback by her vivacity. ‘Sorry I’m late.’ She placed a plate down and dug in immediately, attacking the food like a hungry beast. She mumbled something else through mouthfuls of lamb.
Valinos laughed. ‘What was that?’ He was absorbed by her at once even as she ate. Her smile, her energy, her colour. She looked stunning in her golden dress, a perfect complement to the raw richness of her hair. Like one who moved easily between two worlds, there was something wild and gorgeous about Fen’asel. Seeing her, his confusion dissipated like a puff of smoke.
‘I was helping prepare all the performers,’ she clarified.
‘So you’re the reason everyone on stage looked so dashing?’
Fen’asel blushed with a mouthful of food. Valinos was glad to see her being her perky self again. She had already apologised profusely for her forwardness on their night at Guladran. Now, she seemed comfortable around him again.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Valinos said. ‘I imagine there’s still quite a bit of this feast to go. You enjoy your food. You look starved.’
Fen’asel giggled and continued eating. ‘What did my father want?’ she asked. ‘I saw him stop by.’
‘He said I should treat you well or else he’ll toss me off the top of Birdswatch himself.’
Fen’asel scowled playfully. ‘Somehow, I don’t believe you.’
‘It’s true, more or less,’ Valinos said, holding his palms up innocently. ‘But get this, it turns out your father knew my old man.’
Fen’asel swallowed a chunk of lamb hastily. ‘Really?’
‘Apparently they became friends on a visit to Silnodìr when I was five perhaps. Ended up striking a deal with the Empire over the procurement of weaponry and armour.’
‘So you’re the son of a smith?’ she asked. ‘That explains why you were in Res’ armoury that night. Maybe this will allay my father’s fears.’
‘He’s got nothing to be scared of. I’ll protect you, my lady. It’s what I grew up learning.’ I sound like Asphales, he reflected foolishly.
Fen’asel laughed. The sound was as pleasant as a fresh breeze and intoxicating as fine wine. ‘You haven’t spoken of your family much,’ she said. ‘What are they like?’
‘I didn’t really know,’ Valinos said, gripping his mug. ‘The one who raised me is my foster father. I never knew my real parents.’
‘Oh,’ she said, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—’
‘It’s nothing,’ he interrupted. ‘It was a long time ago.’
‘My mother died when I was very young,’ Fen’asel said after a pause. ‘Father’s done his best trying to raise me. And here I am.’
‘I think you turned out wonderfully,’ Valinos said, trying to lighten the mood. Fen’asel’s eyes brightened. ‘I mean,’ he added quickly, ‘yes, your father should be commended.’
Fen’asel smirked and took a sip of some concoction, keeping her eyes on him. ‘Did you ever sort out your business with him?’ she asked after putting her cup down.
‘Sort of. That’s why he came to see me, actually. I’d rather not talk about that right now. We’ve spoken of pain enough already. But we can still enjoy this night, though.’
‘That’s true. Never spoil the batch over one rotten fruit, I say.’
Valinos chuckled. ‘Am I the rotten fruit?’
‘Only if you keep sitting there sulking,’ she said, leaning in.
‘Are you going to whisk me off somewhere tonight as well?’
‘I might have something planned, yes.’ She was maddeningly close, her voice dangerously low. She let out icy breaths that tore through the warmth of the chamber and caressed his face intently.
‘Valinos!’ someone familiar yelled out and stomped toward their table. Asphales approached and sat down next to Valinos as forcefully as Fen’asel had. ‘There you are, my brooding friend.’
‘I was hiding from you, you know,’ Valinos said, pulling away from Fen’asel. ‘Took you long enough.’
‘Well, I figured I can’t leave you roaming the castle on your own. People might think the feast was cancelled due to rain.’
Valinos sighed. ‘Fen’asel, this is my blundering companion, childhood friend, and theatrical knucklehead, Asphales.’
‘A pleasure to meet you, Fen’asel,’ Asphales said, bowing his head and fanning out the sleeves of his dark blue doublet.
‘The pleasure is mine,’ she responded. ‘So, you’re Asphales Esélinor.’
‘Yes. And I see you’ve already acquainted yourself with my lovable friend. He can turn any feast into a funeral.’
‘How about the next one is yours?’ Valinos said.
‘Oh, he’s not that bad,’ Fen’asel said to Asphales with a raised eyebrow.
‘This is what I’ve had to put up with for twenty-three years,’ Valinos said with another sigh.
‘Poor you,’ Fen’asel said, mocking his pout. Then she latched onto his arm and laughed.
‘Is everything to the masters’ liking?’ asked a servant from behind Valinos. It only took a moment for him to realise who was speaking.
‘Yes, Ithilìr,’ Asphales said, ‘but there’s a distinct lack of sweets.’
‘Do not worry about that, master Asphales. Desserts will be brought out shortly.’
‘How about more drinks?’ Valinos asked as he turned around, meeting the master-servant’s steel eyes, still as a statue and as blank and unreadable. ‘We’ve dried up like a parched river.’
‘Very good. I shall return with refreshments.’
‘And can you get me a Hawkspie?’
‘I am not your butler nor your chef, master Valinos.’
‘Thanks, Ithilìr,’ he called amicably yet expectantly after the servant. He turned back to the table, only to be greeted with incredulous looks from both Asphales and Fen’asel.
‘Well,’ Asphales said, ‘the ruffian’s feeling himself like royalty, huh?’
‘We live in a castle now, don’t we?’ All three of them laughed.
‘But what’s a Hawkspie?’
‘That,’ Fen’asel added eagerly, ‘is a delicacy you simply must try. Valinos here is crazy for it now.’
Asphales raised his eyebrows. ‘This I have to see. Probably not the only thing he’s been crazy about lately, though.’
‘And where is your lady friend?’ Valinos asked, prodding.
Asphales blushed suddenly as he was put on the defensive.
‘What’s going on with you two?’ Fen’asel asked, shifting a suspicious gaze between Asphales and Valinos.
A blessed commotion arose in the hall which diverted Fen’asel’s attention from the embarrassing topic at hand. Not far off, near the stage, tables and chairs were cleared out by servants, shoved aside to make space. In mere moments, roughly a quarter of the Feast Hall had been emptied. Guests and servants huddled the perimeter of now-unfurnished tiles and stones.
On the stage itself, musicians came out in droves. The harp player from earlier was still there, now joined by more flautists, lutist, percussionists, and even those playing more unrecognisable, exotic instruments. Valinos feared what would occur next.
‘What’s happening now?’
‘Looks like drinks and desserts will have to wait,’ said Fen’asel.
The cue was given. The band began a raucous, cheerful tune. Driving rhythms, pulsating melodies, sweeping harmonies. Whoops and shouts went up as a dance arose. Guests rushed in an orderly manner toward the open space, moving in chaotic patterns.
‘We’re not going to—’
‘We are,’ Fen’asel said with a wink. She took hold of Valinos’ hand and began to move toward the crowd. Driven by the music, their motions ebbed and flowed like a tide.
‘Hey, wait for me!’ Asphales said as he followed. They moved quickly through onlookers. As they neared the dancefloor, Valinos was puzzled as to how they would even breach the insanity playing out before them.
‘Ready?’ said Fen’asel.
‘This is so stupid,’ he said to no one in particular.
‘It’s your last night before you leave,’ she protested. ‘You asked to be taken somewhere tonight, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, but I didn’t mean—’
She took a step, still clutching his hand. Then they were in the cyclone of people and song. ‘Thus Valinos, Prince of Gloom, is impelled to dance,’ he heard Asphales say before he was caught in the chaos of the dance. Laughter swirled from somewhere around him. Cheering. Spinning.
Soon he lost track of his one anchor also. The dance required changing partners. He reluctantly let go of Fen’asel’s hand as he was swept in the other direction. He felt like a windblown cloud as he passed different people. He ended up in the embrace of an old woman who was entirely too adventurous in her groping. He whizzed past a man who smelt of sour wine and something worse.
Finally, he landed in Fen’asel’s arms. She was laughing. He focused on her eyes—livelier and more beautiful than all the lights around them. Where all else was spinning, blurring, fading, her face provided much needed clarity. He was grateful for this instant of calm after confusion. In this moment, he saw what he wanted. He knew where he should be. Valinos gave in to the music.
And long after the grey clouds grew tired and the moon was lulled to sleep did the fires of Fara’ethar still burn with mirth and gladness.
* * *
Fara’ethar was sleepless on this glorious night. Even after his time at the feast was over, Asphales could see stalls and tables set up around the courtyard of the castle. The festivities had spilled out of the hall into the bailey in order to accommodate the multitude of guests.
But they were now silent, distant companions.
Perched on his tower, Asphales stared out and he stared up. The land spread beneath him. The muddled shape of mountains smeared the distance. They were all but pale streaks against the infinite deep of the sky. They seemed a simple frame to the fresco of the night. A million lights, a million stories shone. Not a cloud was to be seen, not a simmer not a speck. As if the air itself dared not mar the perfect picture of the celestial abyss.
It was quieter here. Away from the tiresome noise of the feast, Asphales could think. He had come here often in his brief time at the castle already, seeking solace and solutions. The Feast of Starlight been a celebration indeed, but now it was time to simply sit and watch.
The sky was his sight.
The sea his music.
He listened to its ceaseless murmuring, shouting yet never speaking. This roaring thing, restrained by an invisible barrier. There was much to listen to, much to think about.
Then foreign sounds intruded into the calm. Asphales jumped as he heard scampering somewhere beneath him. A figure had indeed found their way up the same passage and was now climbing up. Deftly, the figure shuffled along the wall and hoisted itself up over the bricked barrier and onto the spire’s tiles.
Even in the dim moonlight he could not have mistaken her.
Adélia.
‘I hope I did not alarm you,’ she said. Her voice was soothing.
‘Ah, no. I just didn’t expect anyone to find this place.’
‘It took some time,’ she said. ‘But there’s no better place in Fara’ethar from which to watch the sky.’
Adélia came closer. She was a shard of daylight in the night. Her locks were free again. Her hair was a wind-tossed cataract cast in smouldering scarlet. No longer garbed in her silver gown, she nevertheless looked fitting in the simpler attire she had donned. A long-sleeved creamy overcoat covered a modest green blouse. Her breeches and boots looked far more mobile than the formal gown, and she carried a pouch by her side.
‘Fara’ethar really knows how to celebrate,’ Asphales said with an eye on the festivities below as she stepped over to him. ‘I can’t say I’ve ever been a part of such a massive party,’
‘I do hope you enjoyed it,’ she said, kneeling next to Asphales.
‘I did. I know we didn’t see each other over the feast, but I saw your performance. You were truly wonderful. I mean it.’
‘Thank you. You had already heard me before, in Gohenur.’
‘Yes,’ he said, thinking back to that afternoon. ‘You were no less incredible then. But tonight I was struck by how much was conveyed by your song.’
Adélia said nothing. An innocent silence filled the gap.
‘It seems I’ve failed you, Adélia,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘I don’t think this is any more agreeable a time to meet. It’s so late.’
‘No matter,’ she said with a weak smile, ‘this time I sought you out. And what better night is there to stargaze?’
‘That’s true,’ Asphales said, leaning his head against the tower’s spire and glancing at the sky once more.
‘But I came to bring you something,’ Adélia said. Asphales looked over to see her rustle through the pouch at her side. She brought out a small clothed bundle and held it out gently.
‘What’s this?’ he asked.
‘For you. Something I made.’
Asphales accepted the parcel and uncovered it. It was a small painting. He could discern the pastels in the moonlight. His likeness was on the canvas, captured like a bottled moment. A frozen smile, a glance of midnight stillness. The brown waves of his hair, the jasper glimmer of his eyes, all there as if trapped in a page.
‘This is amazing,’ Asphales said, his eyes glued to the canvas. ‘It really looks like me!’ He held up the painting and tried to imitate the smile. Adélia looked on to what must have been a ridiculous sight. ‘Thank you,’ he said.
‘It’s only a small thing, Asphales,’ Adélia said, ‘but I hope you treasure it. When we met in Gohenur, there was something about you I found approachable. I saw in you someone just as lost as I was. And yet you kept going. Even when your burden became heavier, when you arrived here and discovered what you truly are, still you relentlessly pursue and fight for a way forward.
‘So keep this,’ she added, ‘as a small memento. Know that you are not alone in this. Know that I am thinking of you. I have already pledged my sword and spear. Take this as proof of my commitment. But more than that, I hope it is a reminder that you have a companion who shares your burden and duty.’
And that’s all she can be, Asphales thought. He remembered Ishak’s words. He realised how much it meant for her to know another one born of starlight. He would do nothing rash or improper. Though his feelings for Adélia bubbled wildly every time he saw her, he would not act on them. Their task as Elderchildren took priority. Their stories were entwined even if their hearts could never be.
‘You have my gratitude, Adélia. Truly. It means everything to know I don’t face this evil alone.’
‘Tomorrow we begin this quest proper. We’ll see what awaits us then.’
‘Do you ever wonder,’ Asphales began, ‘why this task fell to you… to us? As much as I adore the tales, I doubt I would have chosen this willingly.’
‘And yet here you are. You could have abandoned this long ago. But something’s made you stay.’
Asphales smiled weakly.
‘I’m glad you did,’ she said. ‘I had nearly given in before I met you. So yes, I do often wonder. I also doubt. But I have never questioned my love for this world. I want to see its story continue. I want the stars to keep shining. I wish its rivers to keep flowing. I do not want to see love snuffed by darkness. And I suspect you are much the same.’
‘You’re right, that is what drives me. Someone must do it.’
‘Perhaps that is answer enough.’
Asphales gazed up at the guiding lights once more. It was Nìthis, the turn of the Hourglass. The inscrutable passage of time and change. Things were about to change, indeed. Asphales hoped he had the strength to carry through. Father, you are up there somewhere. Do you guide me still?
‘Do you mind if I stay a while?’ Adélia asked.
Asphales came to. ‘No, not at all. But there’s not much room here,’ he said, looking around the small platform. ‘I don’t think the designer of this tower had two stargazers in mind.’
Adélia smiled and shuffled over to the other side of the spire. Asphales faced the sea, she the forest. But they shared a common sky. They were alone together and together alone. If the moon had been watching, it would have looked on curiously.
‘You’re an artist,’ Asphales said as he examined the painting again. ‘I have a humble request.’
‘What is it?’ she called out from the other side. Her voice was carried gently by the midnight wind.
‘Would you paint a portrait of yourself?’
There was a moment of silence. ‘Why?’
‘For one, as much as I love this gift, I know what I look like. I think you’re much lovelier to look upon, anyway. But consider this. Would it not be a good idea to keep our portraits for posterity? When future generations tell the story of the two heroes of starlight, I should like for them to have illustrations.’
Adélia let out a wisp of laughter. It sounded like spring. For a moment, her voice carried warmth that overpowered the cool autumn air.
‘What, you don’t think our stories will join the likes of Lanurel and Vildia?’ he asked.
‘There truly is no one like you, Asphales. I will think about it.’
Asphales returned to watching the sky. Many sparkling words nestled in the blackened pages above. But tonight, only two mattered to him. Two names huddled under this momentary starlight. That’s all there was for him this night. Still, the hidden moon allowed all the heavenly lights to truly shine.
‘The stars are so bright tonight,’ Adélia said.