The Magelands Epic: Storm Mage (Book 6)

by Christopher Mitchell

  Chapter 4

  Winter Games

  Hold Fast, Republic of the Holdings – Winter’s Day 524

  ‘Hollow words from empty minds,’ murmured Kelsey from the floor where she was squatting.

  Keir flicked ash from the weedstick in his fingers, his feet up on a stool, his boots smelling of fresh polish.

  ‘I expected no less,’ Kelsey went on. ‘I’m not leaving the house today, I mean it. You go; I’m staying here.’

  Keir ignored her. He had long been able to filter out his sister’s voice. He gazed out of the large bay windows of his bedroom at the vast blue sky. The buildings of the Holdfast estate were laid out before him, shining in the cold sunlight. Horses were being led from the stables that formed one side of the square in front of the mansion, and flags and garlands decorated the fountain in the centre.

  ‘It’s the angle of the planet as it faces the sun, I told them,’ Kelsey continued, as if she were talking to herself. ‘Any fool can see that. In Kellach Brigdomin there are only six hours of sunlight today, what more proof could anyone need? I might write a letter to mother and ask her to sack the school’s teachers. I refuse to be taught by imbeciles that know nothing.’

  Keir took a draw of the dreamweed. His father would be furious if he knew his son was smoking in his room, but he didn’t care. Let him find out. What was he going to do? Throw Keir out of the house? He laughed at the stupidity of his big sister Karalyn. She had blocked Corthie’s mind to him, but had then taken the little brat with her to Plateau City anyway, whereas she had left their father’s mind open and unguarded.

  ‘But that’s not why I’m here,’ said Kelsey.

  ‘You’re always here,’ said Keir. ‘You follow me about like a puppy.’

  He glanced at his sister’s frown. Kelsey had a power of her own, that made her resistant to Keir’s inner-vision, and he never really knew what the girl was thinking. That she adored him was obvious; and she was fiercely protective of her brother, despite being much shorter and weaker than him. Keir had the stature of a Kellach Brigdomin, and at sixteen, he towered over his classmates; so much so that he had been forbidden to take part in that day’s Winter Games – his strength and height so clearly out-matching his peers. He didn’t care. It gave him a chance to have a quick smoke before the programme of events began, even if that meant having to put up with his annoying little sister.

  Kelsey scowled at him. ‘You’re as empty-headed as the rest. Vain, that’s what you are. You only care about your looks, and the way every girl in Hold Fast runs after you, and how far you can push father before he breaks. Sometimes I don’t know why I bother.’

  ‘Piss off, then,’ Keir said. ‘No one asked you to be here.’

  Kelsey laughed, making a noise which to Keir sounded like a drain gurgling. He grimaced.

  ‘You need me,’ she said. ‘You just don’t know it yet.’

  Keir turned back to the window. Workers were erecting a pavilion in the large open space to the right of the square where the horses exercised. A running track had been marked out for the athletics and races that were going to take place that day, and the stalls that had been set up the night before were beginning to open. The crowds were still small, but Keir knew that as the morning drew on, more would arrive until the place was packed. Every worker and their family would be present for the free food, drink and entertainment supplied in generous quantities by his family on the winter holiday.

  There would be an abundance of young woman in attendance, he thought, smiling as he pictured the pretty, festive outfits they would be wearing. The girls he had grown up with round the estate were transforming into objects of desire before his eyes. Two years previously, Keir had remained at roughly the same height as the others in his age group, but his Kellach-driven growth spurt had seen him almost reach the height of his father by the time his sixteenth birthday had arrived. Whereas at fourteen he had been shy and awkward, especially with girls, two years later his self-confidence was sky-high. The attitude of the girls at school towards him had shifted at the same time, and he was never short of attention. The boys either fawned over him or resented him. Physically, he could boss around whomever he liked, and the few fights he had been involved in had been almost embarrassingly one-sided, as his strength and reach, and his quick temper, over-powered any of the boys that dared provoke him.

  ‘You should go,’ said Kelsey. ‘You’re going to be late.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘You have to go, in order that you’ll come back.’

  ‘Eh? What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘I’m staying here,’ said Kelsey. ‘As I told you before, I’m not leaving the house. Tell father I have a migraine. Oh, and before I forget, remember to bring back one of those little lanterns, you know, the ones hanging in the square.’

  ‘Why?’

  She looked at him like he was stupid. ‘I don’t know. You’re holding it when… never mind, just do it.’

  He rolled his eyes. No wonder all of his friends thought Kelsey was weird. He stood, and walked to the full-length mirror by the side of his bed. He smoothed the cuffs of his shirt.

  ‘Am I looking smart?’ he said.

  ‘Like you could unclasp bras with a glance.’

  He smiled.

  ‘I’m going to be reading books and smoking your weed all day,’ she said, ‘in case you were wondering.’

  ‘I wasn’t,’ he said, turning to his scrawny sister sitting cross-legged on the rug; ‘and don’t smoke all the weed, it’s harder to get over the holidays.’

  ‘Yes, brother dear.’

  He frowned. ‘Brat.’

  ‘Be gone from my presence, foul creature,’ Kelsey said. ‘I’ll see you later. Don’t be too angry with Celine.’

  Keir blinked. ‘What? Why would I…?’

  ‘Never mind,’ Kelsey said, waving her hand at him. ‘Off you trot, now. Bye.’

  ‘At least try to look like you’re enjoying yourself,’ Celine whispered to Keir as they sat on the raised platform at the side of the racetrack. His father was down on the ground, talking to a few old Holdfast employees, pretending that he was interested in their lives.

  ‘Mother should be here,’ Keir muttered.

  ‘You know she had to visit Karalyn and Corthie in Plateau City,’ Celine said. ‘She’ll be back soon.’

  ‘Yeah, back to work. I’m starting to forget what she looks like.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. Your mother is working very hard for this country, and she wishes she could see you all more, but she has a very demanding job. Still, it’s a pity she can’t be here. The estate workers like to see their Holder on Winter’s Day. This year they’ll only be getting Killop, you and Kelsey.’

  ‘Kelsey’s not coming.’

  Celine frowned. ‘What?’

  ‘She has a headache,’ Keir said. ‘A bad one. No way she could make it. She’s lying down with the curtains drawn; the light hurts her eyes. She wanted to come, but I told her to stay in bed.’

  Celine squinted at him for a moment. ‘Alright.’

  He glanced away, his eyes flitting over the gathering crowds, not caring if his aunt believed him or not. A large group of schoolchildren were assembling at the far end of the track.

  ‘I’d better join my class,’ he said. ‘Looks like the parade is about to start.’

  He got to his feet as Celine nodded, then made his way down the tiered rows of seats. His father caught his eye as he passed him at the bottom of the steps.

  ‘See you after the parade, son,’ he said. ‘Hope you’re not too disappointed about not being able to compete today.’

  Keir shrugged. ‘Whoever wins will always know that I would have beaten them. If that’s the kind of victory they want, they can keep it.’

  ‘That’s one way to look at it.’

  ‘It’s the only way, father.’

  Keir smiled, then turned and walked towards his schoolmates at the far end of the track. The children were being organised into
their year-groups, and Keir joined the other sixteen year olds from his class. Being taller than everyone on the estate except his father, Keir stood a foot higher than the boys, and felt like a giant next to the shortest girls. Even the teachers had to strain their necks to peer up at him.

  ‘Morning, Keir,’ muttered a few in his class as he approached.

  ‘Did you all hear?’ he said, as the class gravitated around him. ‘I’ve been banned from competing today. No running, wrestling, boxing; no nothing.’

  He noticed a few relieved expressions on the faces of the boys.

  ‘That’s terrible,’ said a girl. ‘They’re discriminating against you.’

  He smiled at her. ‘They know I’d win easily. Too easily. Have you ever watched me wrestle?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she grinned.

  ‘And I might accidentally kill one of the boys if I was allowed to box,’ Keir said, holding up his right fist. ‘One punch would do it.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ said another girl, her eyes wide.

  ‘They should let you compete with the men,’ said another.

  Keir smiled. ‘They don’t want a sixteen-year-old embarrassing them.’

  He felt a tug at his elbow, and noticed Jemma standing by his side. He frowned.

  ‘I need to speak to you,’ she said, her face lowered as the other girls glared at her.

  ‘What about?’ Keir said.

  Jemma stood in silence for a moment. ‘I don’t want to talk about it in front of everyone else.’

  ‘Then it’ll have to wait,’ Keir said. ‘And it had better not be about you trying to get us back together. It’s not happening. We’re over. You’re too boring.’

  A few of the girls laughed as Jemma stared at the ground.

  ‘Right, class!’ their teacher called. ‘Time to get into pairs for the parade.’

  Keir glanced up. The crowds had taken their seats to either side of the athletics track, and the younger children in the junior classes were already lined up. All of the classes would march down the track before getting prepared for the games, and each year carried a large banner that they had made.

  ‘Keir,’ said the teacher, holding out the class’s banner for him to take.

  ‘I’m not carrying it again this year,’ he said. ‘I don’t see why I have to, if I can’t compete.’

  The teacher paused, and Keir could see his uncertainty and confusion. He looked around, then passed the banner to the boy and girl in front of him. Ahead of them, the first class was beginning to move off across the gravel track, and the crowds applauded. Keir took up position behind the pair with the banner, the teacher standing to his right.

  ‘This is my last Winter’s Day at the school,’ Keir said. ‘Come New Year, I’ll be free at last.’

  The teacher said nothing.

  Their turn came, and the class started marching behind the banner, as the crowds of estate workers waved and clapped. Keir glanced up to where his father was sitting next to Celine. An empty seat had been left to his father’s right, where Keir would be expected to sit while the games took place. He patted his pocket, feeling the tight bundle of dreamweed sticks he had brought to get him through the long day ahead.

  ‘That’s your third toilet break this morning,’ Celine said as Keir retook his seat. ‘Are you feeling alright?’

  ‘Fine,’ said Keir as he gazed up at the clear, blue sky. The sun was overhead, shining down on the dull, pointless games taking place on the athletics track. Children were sprinting from left to right as the crowds watched.

  His father sniffed. ‘I think I can guess what he’s been up to.’

  ‘You’ve got me there, father,’ Keir said. He could see in his father’s eyes that the old man believed he had been smoking cigarettes, and he was happy to let him continue to think that.

  ‘That’s two of my children smokers already,’ his father said, shaking his head, ‘and it’s probably only a matter of time before the other two start.’

  Celine applauded as the latest race finished. ‘It’ll be lunch soon.’

  ‘Then it’ll be the medals ceremony,’ his father grimaced. ‘My favourite part.’

  Celine eyed him. ‘You’re not doing a speech, are you?’

  ‘I’m spared that at least. Mistress Matilda volunteered to say a few words.’

  ‘You’re letting one of the staff speak in your place?’ said Keir.

  ‘She’s not just staff,’ Killop said. ‘She’s the best horse breeder and trainer in the Holdings, and she’s been here ten years. I thought it was a nice gesture.’

  ‘It is,’ said Celine. ‘The woman’s done wonders for the estate.’

  ‘It’s not right, though,’ Keir said. ‘A Holdfast should speak. Mother’s spoken every Winter’s Day for as long as I can remember. If she’s not here, then one of you two should speak.’

  ‘That’s enough, Keir,’ said Celine.

  Keir frowned. ‘What with mother away, me being forbidden to compete, and my father too cowardly to speak in public, it’ll be no wonder if people forget who’s hosting this damn party.’

  Killop laughed.

  ‘You should say some words, then,’ Celine said to Keir, ‘if you think you’re so smart.’

  Keir’s temper flashed. ‘At least then it would be a real Holdfast speaking, not a fake one like you.’

  His father’s expression changed. ‘Apologise at once.’

  Keir glanced at his father’s eyes, judging the level of anger within him.

  ‘I was only speaking the truth,’ he said. ‘Both of you are Holdfasts by virtue of marriage, while I have the family blood in my veins. I’m the only real Holdfast sitting here.’

  ‘I want you to return to the mansion,’ his father said, his voice calm, but his eyes dark. ‘Now, please.’

  Keir suppressed a smirk. Had he really got out of the rest of the day as easily as that?

  ‘And you’ll remain there,’ his father went on, ‘throughout the evening.’

  Keir’s face fell. ‘You’re making me miss the party?’

  ‘Apologise to Celine, and you can go.’

  ‘This is unbelievable. You’re punishing me because you can’t face the truth? You know I’ve been looking forward to the Winter’s Day party for ages.’

  ‘Then it’s simple. Apologise.’

  Keir jumped to his feet, his fists clenched.

  His father gazed up at him. ‘You need to control your temper, son.’

  ‘I hate you.’

  Keir turned and stormed off, barging his way through the people packed onto the tiered benches. The crowds were just beginning to rise for lunch, and Keir felt his stomach rumble as he spotted the large tented kitchen that had been set up to feed the workers of the estate. The scent of roasting beef reached his nose, but he forced himself to ignore it and strode in the opposite direction towards the mansion. The roadway had been lined with garlands of flowers, and small lamps were hanging from trellises and archways, in preparation for the evening’s festivities that would begin after the medals had been handed out. The stupid horse-woman had been chosen to speak. Keir shook his head as he passed the fountain in the middle of the market square. At least he would miss having to listen to that. He glanced up at the mansion and slowed his steps, remembering that his sister was probably still in his room.

  He sat by the fountain and lit a stick of dreamweed. How dare his father treat him like that. He considered starting a rumour that he was having an affair with the horse-woman, but dismissed it when he recalled that Karalyn had done something similar that had nearly split his parents up forever. His father needed to be taught a lesson, though, he couldn’t be allowed to disrespect his son. Banned from the games, and now banned from the party. They must hate him; it was obvious. They were jealous of him, and their jealousy fed their hatred.

  A sound from the stables distracted him and he turned. His great black stallion, Monty, was poking his large head out of his stable block. Keir smiled. His father may have told him to return
to the mansion, but he wasn’t a slave; he could act as he chose. He stood, stubbing out the stick of dreamweed beneath his riding boots.

  It was growing dark when he returned to the estate buildings, and a cold wind was blowing across the vast plains. Plumes of steam were coming from Monty’s nostrils as Keir slowed the stallion to a walk.

  ‘Good boy,’ he said, patting his mount’s flank.

  The estate was lit up, with lanterns providing a golden glow to the buildings. The crowds were out in the market square by the fountain, drinking ale and rum, and smoking pounds of tobacco. A brass band had been installed at the opposite end from the mansion, and the cacophony it was making grated on Keir. The workers seemed to like it, he noticed, as many of them were up dancing, even though the last rays of the sun were yet to sink beneath the horizon.

  He dismounted and led Monty to the rear of the stables, where it was quieter. From the inside, he barred the entrance leading to the noisy square, and took his time to brush, feed and water the stallion. He sat on a stool and lit a stick of dreamweed as he watched Monty eat from his nose-bag. His own stomach was rumbling again, but he didn’t feel in the mood for eating anything. His evening had been ruined, and he was going to miss dancing with the prettiest girls on the estate, on the one night of the year when they were all looking their best. He could go anyway, he thought. He could just ignore what his father had said, walk right into the middle of the party and straight up to the most beautiful girl and ask her to dance. What would his father do?

  He frowned. His father had a vast temper that Keir had only seen a handful of times, though there had been other occasions since he had gained vision powers when he had seen how close his father had been to snapping. If he went to the party, there was a risk that his father would fly into a rage, and Keir cringed at the potential for extreme embarrassment in front of his friends and peers.

  No, it was back to the mansion and an evening with his annoying little sister.

  He crept out of the stables via the rear door, and into the dim evening light. He decided to avoid the crowds altogether, and walked round to the dark half of the mansion. Stumbling in the dark, he pulled down an unlit lantern from a fence pole and lit it with a match. He walked to the side of the mansion where a row of workers’ cottages lay at the bottom of a steep slope, and opened the door to enter a grand south-facing room, with ceiling-high windows looking out over the estate. There was a drinks cabinet over by a table, and Keir grinned. Every servant and worker in the house was out enjoying themselves; nobody would notice a couple of bottles going missing. He opened the cabinet and picked up a bottle of gin and another of rum.