Joe woke to a pair of warm lips pressed to his. His eyes snapped open to find a grinning Kendell hovering above him.
“It works,” she crowed dramatically. “Oh, wait! Do you have the tale of the Slumbering Lovely where you come from?”
“Uh, we have Sleeping Beauty.”
“Ugg. I like ours better.”
“So what does that make you? Prince Charming?” Joe scoffed as he enjoyed looking up at her face, lit by the morning light.
“Prince Valiant!” she corrected. “‘Charming’ sounds like a creep. Now, come on and get up. The First Procession starts in twenty minutes. We will already be way in the back, but I figure you needed the sleep. You were out cold in less than a minute.”
Joe’s now very awake brain quickly grabbed the ramifications of that last statement. Unless he had snored unusually loudly, her knowing how quickly he had zonked out meant Kenda had to have looked in on him just after he laid down. If he had stayed awake … who knows?
She noticed his broad smirk and realized she had been discovered. “UP!” she bellowed, grabbing his hand and pulling him into a sitting position.
“Ok, two secs,” Joe appealed, scrubbing his free hands across his face. “Let me just change. Even with my cleaning ring, these clothes still feel crusty after all the wounded we dealt with yesterday. Besides, you told me to get an outfit for today, which I did.”
“Ok, but if you take too long, I’m coming back in here to get you.” She squeezed his hand once more and dashed out of the room. As he swung his legs out of bed, Joe had to admit he felt much better for the sleep. Being woken by a pretty girl’s kiss was also nothing to scoff at. He briefly placed his fingertips against his lips, recalling her touch, then bounced to his feet.
He grabbed the clothes he had bought for the holiday. Some people had full costumes for Founder’s Day, but most folks just wore an outfit displaying one of the four colors. Joe had chosen red for the mage Jequa since Spirit was his best attribute, even more so now.
The focus of the outfit was the coolest coat Joe had ever owned. It was made of a light material enchanted to keep him comfortable even if the day was blisteringly hot. Most of it was a medium-dark red color, with black accents making up the shoulders, cuffs, and lapels. The bottom was cut to points that came to just above his knees on the back and in the split front, rising to mid-thigh on either side. It even had a hood that tapered to a very magey-like point above his forehead.
Underneath this, he wore a tan shirt as a homage to Myrrhcee. Black pants and a comfortable pair of boots completed his ensemble. Since he had everything laid out before going to deal with the storm, he was dressed in less than three minutes, including using a charge of his ring to scrub his skin clean one more time.
He stepped out of the room, and a pair of whistles greeted him. One belonged to Kendell, but the other was Hah’roo’s.
“Don’t you look sharp?” the galeling drawled, giving Joe an appraising glance.
“I agree. Nice duds, Joe,” Kenda exclaimed. She, too, had changed. She wore a light blue shirt with a sapphire skirt. Her accent colors were silver, a belt of argent scales, bright silvery bangles, and buckles. Even her hair was braided with metallic ribbons. Joe was pretty sure the ribbons and braids had been there when she came to wake him but had not registered them until they were matched into the whole outfit.
Hah’roo’s only concession to the holiday was a simple white sash that somehow failed to be less pale than her naturally snow-white skin.
“Thanks. So what’s the plan?” he asked, running his hands down his chest in an unnecessary effort to smooth the coat. The tailor was an expert; the jacket hung perfectly off his shoulders.
“Tez and RC will meet us outside the Guildhouse,’ Kendell declared. “Vex and Kerrig might be joining us, too, if they have not already gotten in line. From there, we’ll jog over to City Hall and join the procession. After that, we parade through town with everyone, playing music and listening to the street performances of the Fort’s history. We grab drinks and snacks as we go. Make sure you save room for Ninha’s Sprinkle Bombs about halfway through. Ahhh. The best part of the whole day, believe you me.”
Grabbing Joe’s hand, the savant dragged him to the door with the wind-dancer right at their heels. They dashed to the guild house. Joe could not help but try his new skill, but unfortunately, the speed it gave them was not practical on the busy holiday streets.
Your skill [Spirit of the Pack] has increased to rank 1
There, they found the elf and archon waiting for them. Both had chosen Tintze’s purple, but Joe knew it was for different reasons. For Earcellwen, it was in homage to the rogue's legendary grace. For Tezeno, it was to honor the founder’s later years as head of the city council and architect of progress for Fort Coral.
The four of them crossed Midtown center to where a vast crowd of joyful people were waiting and chatting in a long line. Vendors were walking back and forth with suspended trays of steaming drinks and pastries.
Along with food and drink, several peddled small instruments, rattles, and penny-whistles, small drums, and chimes. Kendell scanned the tray-bearing sellers until she spotted whomever she was looking for. She put two fingers on either side of her mouth and blew a long, loud trebling note. She got the attention of those around her, as well as several vendors. One in particular came jogging up to her.
When he came closer, there was no question this was a relative of hers. Joe knew she had a brother, and this had to be him. He could have been her twin, just a few years older and a few inches taller.
“Hey, Kay. Happy Founder’s Day. What’d ya want?” her brother asked, dipping his head toward the tray he had hanging off a strap that ran around the back of his neck. The low box was filled with glass whistles, pan-pipes, and colorful bottles. The bottles did not look like they were for drinking out of. They, too, looked like instruments for making music with. Of course, the shades were the founder’s four colors.
“Hey Rey,” Kenda replied before turning to others brightly. “These are from our shop. Pick one. They’re on me.”
“That is not the spirit of the day, Kenda,” Tezeno intoned. “Today, we honor our craftsmen.” he turned to the brown-haired man. “Give me something challenging this time, Reylin.”
With great exaggeration, he flipped a gold coin out of a ring on his finger and handed it to Kendell’s brother.
“Go for the slide whistle, Tez. Those can be a little tricky. Thanks, man,” the seller stated, taking the coin.
“I figure since we are stealing one of your craftsmen,” the archon stated, tipping his head toward his co-worker, “it’s the least I can do.” Tezeno grabbed a purple glass pipe with a metal wire. By manipulating the slide, the sound would change, much like how a trombone works.
Joe stepped up and also offered a gold crown, even though the sign on the tray stated ‘2 shillings’.
“I, on the other hand, have zero musical talent and a terrible sense of rhythm. What do you have that is easy and won’t annoy everyone around me if I am off-beat?”
“You must be new. The processions are rarely on-beat, sir. But here, these are probably the best for you.” Reylin handed Joe a set of red glass panpipes. There were only four tubes, and they all seemed rather long to Joe. “They will play low bass notes that will hide in the background of the chaos you are about to enter. Also, they’ll give you a chance to change it up, unlike some of the whistles, so you’re not stuck with the same tone all day. Enjoy.”
Hah’roo also took a slide whistle, paying extra to the Bracey family as well. After blowing an experimental trill, she launched into a multi-tonal cascade of notes, which immediately drew the attention of everyone around her. Hah’roo produced the most amazing melody of lovely reverberating notes from that simple instrument.
“Oh, interesting,” she breathed, critically looking over the slide whistle. “This will be fun.”
Tezeno whacked a facepalm. “Of course, that was your first try,” he groaned glumly.
Kendell grabbed a maraca-looking rattle. Joe could see tiny rice-like beads in the founder’s colors through the light blue glass bulb at the end.
“Is Mom pissed I’m not selling today?” she muttered in a low tone to her sibling.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“Actually, you’re gonna get a huge pass this time,” Reylin answered quietly. “Edror himself ended up down by the smithy killing crabs. One was about to break into the gallery. He chopped it to bits before it could destroy any of the masterworks. So Mom is on Team Guilders … at least for today. Don’t sweat it, Kay. You are doing what makes you happy, and you saved lives yesterday. Go have fun with your friends. You earned it.” He reached out and squeezed her shoulder, which Kendell turned into an awkward hug around the large tray of glass instruments.
A tumultuous burst of music began at the front of the line, catching the group’s attention.
The glassblower let his sister go and announced. “Procession is starting. Enjoy yourselves. I’ve got to sell a few more of these, or Dad will give me grief. See ya, Kay.”
“Bye, Rey,” she replied before turning to the two newcomers to town. “Ok, we play as we walk, but when we get to a stage, stop playing and listen to the Founder’s skit before heading off again. The skits cause the line to split apart. This far back, we are going to have a lot of waiting at first. We’ll probably get through …”
“My guess is around Two Bells,” Tezeno offered.
“Sounds about right. Don’t worry about lunch. Snacking along the walk is half the fun.”
“Is there another procession?” Hah’roo asked. “People kept mentioning ‘First Procession’ to me this morning.”
“There is. It musters later today, but most of the actors are a bit in the bag by then. First Procession is always better in my book,” Kenda explained while Tezeno nodded his agreement next to her.
About an hour passed before they started moving. All four of them had bought a drink and something light to eat. Joe had a warm cider that might have been one of the best things he had ever drunk. It was spiced perfectly.
As they started walking, music picked up around the group. There was a melody somewhere in the ensemble, but it was a loose, rambling thing that accommodated odd notes and off-beat additions. Joe’s set of pipes moaned low notes, which reminded him of blowing into a glass bottle. His deep tones blended easily into the joyful noise, even though he was terrible at following the actual tune.
They walked for about ten minutes before they arrived at the first stage. On the platform, the backdrop was painted to look like a shrine. A pair of standing columns were placed on the stage to add depth to the illusion. The characters were easy to identify. Front and center was Mira looking to the heavens, with her three companions arrayed behind her.
“From the stars is my judgment wrought,
Days of darkness upon us fraught,
Gather the mother, father, and child,
Prepare our way into the wild,” the actress cried loudly.
Margen, Tintze, and Jequa added to the tale of the first vision that prompted the Founders to flee their land. To Joe, the style was very reminiscent of Shakespeare. It was clear the skits were old and well-known as the crowd murmured along with the performers. The skit ended with the departure from the land of Glandrion. The last lines were delivered in such a way that the crowd became the fleeing glandrions.
They played and drank their way to the next stage. This one was set to appear to be on a mountainside. Snow was painted across the tops of the boulders set on stage. This performance began as a sad tale of the hardship the exiles suffered.
“Scrabble must we over Baerrok’s bleak peaks,
Bitten by cold, we grow hungry and weak.”
Margen was the hero of this skit, inciting courage and determination, carrying two people and five children on his own through the high mountain pass. The piece ended with sharp-eyed Tintze announcing they had passed the zenith and the way ahead was downhill to the forests of Hornwood.
On the next walk, they discovered Joe could manage the pipes with one hand and hold Kenda’s in his other. The trainer was alight with emotion. She had already shed tears at the mountain skit, both in sadness and joy for the triumphant conclusion. You could sense her pride in her heritage and the resilience of her ancestors. This is why she wanted to be a member of the Guild; why she wanted to keep Fort Coral safe and thriving.
The next skit had Jequa following Tinzte through a deep forest. Extras lurked barely in sight at the edge of the stage to simulate the following tribesfolk. Light blazed from the mage’s hands, yet the forest still seemed grim and imposing.
“They get that effect with both illumination and shadow magic,” Kenda whispered to Joe. “The fey forest used to scare the hells out of me when I was little.”
Dark shadowy figures attacked from the trees. Tiny winged fey spun above the performers while arrows and darts rained down onto them. Most broke against Jequa’s shields, but each actor gained theatrical wounds as they continued through the dark wood.
Eventually, a noble fairy prince stepped in front of the pair, demanding they turn back and leave the Hornwood forests, lands belonging to the Feyfolk. Jequa spoke, holding a large red crystal.
“Know in certitude the horror we flee,
Know it follows regardless of we,
Only the wise and whimsic fey,
May meet the shadow, hold it at bay,
In this stone, the star’s telling is bound,
A doom as true as thy head is crowned,
Let us pass, we weary scores,
Stopping not til yon far shores.”
Tintze handed the noble fey the stone. The tall actor portraying the prince peers into it and recoils on seeing Mira's vision held within by the crystal. The fey allowed the refugees to pass while they swore to gird for war against the coming shadows.
Snacks were the focus of their group’s next leg of the trek. They reached the point where Kendell’s favorite food was served. The line of paraders passed a stall with small cups filled with sprinkle-covered balls. A trio of dunians staffed the booth, two men following the directions of a woman who had to be Ninha. Of course, the sprinkles were the white, blue, purple, and red of the founders. Kenda bought one for everyone and another whole box for later.
On the first bite, Joe had to agree with her. The center was a rich fudge-like cocoa. Joe had always been a fan of truffles, but these were even better. The soft nugget was buttery, sweet, and very rich. He could see how kids might overload their bellies on too many of these.
Joe grabbed a pulled-boar slider from a nearby stall to balance out Ninha’s wonderfully decadent dessert. Kendell doubled down and had another sprinkle bomb.
They moved to the next stage. On this platform, Margen and the Fey Prince stood side by side against a cluster of animated scarecrows painted to look like skeletons. Extras were dressed as fey warriors or soldiers under Margen’s command.
As the battle progressed, Tintze narrated while clever lighting turned the scene from night to day, displaying how this battle against the horde of undead lasted for weeks. The trader spoke of how the tide had to be held long enough for Jequa and the fey mystics to construct death-wards across the Baerrok mountains. The warriors knew the necromancer’s legions were endless. Yet they knew they had to spend themselves to buy the mages time.
Tintze’s love and admiration for his friends was evident in his recital. Each time the line was breached, Margen charged to plug the gap, dying repeatedly to prevent the formation’s collapse. He would rise again each morning, for that was one of the boons granted by the man’s mighty sword, DoomHerald. If slain by an undead, the wielder was drawn into the blade and resurrected on a following dawn. Yet the DoomHerald had never been meant to be called on as Margen did. As his deaths mounted, the span grew longer and longer; one day became two, then three, and so forth.
In the final confrontation, as the mages were raising the last ward, the army had to hold the innumerable horde back. The necromancer, Necronias, lashed out with spells and summoned demons to aid him. The battle seemed hopeless.
Yet this site was chosen by the Starseer; picked as the one and only place the defenders had any chance of closing the wards. That valley, on that specific day. The lighting changed in this scene, and the sky became neither dark nor light but stormy-looking. Metal sheets were rattled to sound like thunder. Water fell from a cantrip cast over the stage.
Suddenly, the audience laughed as someone dangled a homemade squid-like puppet over the stage. The construction was a bit shoddy, but there was no denying the marionette was meant to be Cauldrakon. Even though it cost the scene much of its tension, the stunt amused the crowd, which roared in mirth. The puppeteers, a group of smirking teens, were eventually driven off by a rain of pelting food and small items.
The actors tried to recover, but they mostly just gaffed their way through the conclusion. Mira had foreseen that a huge storm would unload on the valley, creating a flooding torrent. One of the limitations of death magic, Joe learned, was it fails in running water. The scarecrows were washed off stage, and the last stone was placed, sealing the dire necromancer from ever entering from the Hornwoods. The narrating Tintze delivered his last lines with admirable gravitas even though the skit had been seriously derailed.
“Really,” Tezeno huffed after it was over, clearly very annoyed. “The ‘Warding’ is one of my favorites, and those hoodlums ruined it. Why people have to inject chaos into what should have been a traditional telling is beyond me.”
“I rather enjoyed the audience's levity,” Hah’roo countered. “I can see how typically that would have been a stirring fable. Yet keep in mind, only yesterday, their lives and livelihoods nearly ended. Laughter is a great salve for those who have just faced death.”
The archon was obviously not convinced but was gracious enough not to argue. They grabbed drinks and talked while waiting for the procession to move on. Joe noted that the section of the line they had started with was considerably smaller than it had been in the beginning. It seemed that not everyone followed the procession all the way through.
Conversely, the town around the parade street was filling in with people. Joe saw games and gatherings. The Forters were buying and selling food, drinks, and goods. Even with all the storm damage clearly on display, these people were celebrating.
Joe looked at those with him. Hah’roo, who had followed him here. Earcellwen, who had fought side by side with him. Tezeno, who had tried to protect him to the best of his ability. And Kendell, who had taught him so much about this world and who Joe knew he had serious feelings for.
Celebrating was precisely the right thing.