by Megan Linski
People were dancing to the sound in the streets, in their shifter and human forms. Companions that had opted to remain as animals wore harnesses made of woven flowers. Stages had been set up for dancing or band competitions, or even demonstrations. One Marked performed illusions for children with puppets, while a group of sorceresses nearby put on an air show with owls and hawks. Companions had a drinking contest nearby, while Marked awed the crowd by spinning wheels of fire and swallowing flaming torches. Acrobats, both Marked and Companion, did flips and tricks throughout the streets to an applauding crowd, while a heavy lifting contest took place near the vendors. Companions lifted huge logs and threw giant stones as high and far as they could, to massive cheers of the crowd. It looked like a very muscular dragon had won the contest, and he raised a fist in victory.
In the center of town, there was a jousting contest. Marked rode their Companions at each other with lances in full armor and tried to knock each other off. Once both were on the ground, the Marked and Companions both did battle, and fought each other with ancient swords.
There’d be something similar during the King’s Contest in December, but that would be an actual tournament, not for fun and show. People would get hurt.
I pushed the thought out of my mind. The King’s Contest was still months away. I didn’t want to bother myself with such worries today.
Emma was awed. She observed the archery contest near the jousting tournament with bright eyes and a wide smile. “Okay, you didn’t tell me it’d be this awesome. This is incredible. It’s like stepping back in time to the Middle Ages.”
“Told you it was cool.” My eyes caught some familiar faces dancing in the town square near the music.
Odette had gone all out for the festival. She was wearing a headband made of different colored fall leaves, her white dress embroidered with orange and brown thread. She was laughing and spinning around with Theo in the middle of the square, who was dressed in a traditional way similar to Odette’s.
They had matching outfits. This was getting bad. Out of all people, why couldn’t Odette see that Theo’s heart was set on her?
Delmare wasn’t too far. It wasn’t any surprise that her dress was pure black. Even her headband had black roses on it. She looked like the queen of death. She was sitting cross-legged on a barrel and looking very cross, holding onto a mug of ale with an irritated expression. Stefan was right next to her, leaning on a brick wall and obviously flirting hardcore.
Odette caught Emma’s eye and squealed. She left Theo’s arms and hurried over to Emma, throwing her arms around her before clinging to me.
I leaned into the embrace. I’d learned that with Odette, you just accepted hugs.
“Emma! I’m so glad you could make it!” Odette sang. She eyed me up and down, and a huge grin split her face. “So this is the reason you didn’t want to come with us. You could’ve told us you had a date. I wouldn’t have minded.”
“No, it’s not like that,” Emma rushed to explain.
“Oh, hush, silly.” Odette giggled. “It’s no big thing. I hope you two enjoy the festival!”
Odette skipped off to rejoin the dancing circle. She fell into Theo’s arms, and raised up onto her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. He blushed so red it would make tomatoes jealous.
Stefan had moved onto flexing his muscles to try and show off. Delmare was ignoring him and staring at us. She cupped her hands around her lips and mouthed, Save me.
Emma laughed under her breath and said, “We should probably go and help her.”
“That’s all you,” I said. “Stefan doesn’t quit when he’s on the hunt.”
As we approached, I heard Stefan boasting loudly, “Yeah, I’d say the average dragon my age has killed around… I’d say… ten monsters by now? But I’ve killed around thirty. They just see me and run, you know?”
He was totally bluffing. He’d killed five, three with my help. I wasn’t sure what happened with the other two. Probably got lucky, or sat on them or something.
“Anyway, I’m at the top of my class.” Stefan made an arrogant noise and cleared his throat. “Best at fighting, and all that.”
“Oh, gods, would you please just shut up?” Delmare complained. In one fluid motion, she tossed her ale onto him. It splashed Stefan in the face and soaked his clothes.
He gasped and jumped backward. Delmare tossed the wooden tankard down at his feet before stomping off. The thinnest of smiles shone on her face.
Stefan was shocked for a moment. The ale dripped onto the cobblestone. He was completely soaked.
Then a delighted smile lit up his expression, and he used his hand to wipe the dripping ale from his eyes. “Aye. She’s a feisty one. I love the chase. She only gets more and more exciting.”
Stefan hurried after Delmare. I held in a laugh. Emma watched them go with a confused expression. Stefan caught up to Delmare. He tried to put his arm around her, but she pushed him into a nearby fountain. Water went everywhere. She laughed along with the rest of the crowd as he floundered to pull himself out of it. Despite being made a fool of, Stefan was grinning.
“I don’t get it,” Emma said. “Why doesn’t Stefan leave her alone? It’s obvious Delmare’s not interested.”
“I wouldn’t say that. He’d back off if she told him to go away. He understands no means no,” I pointed out. “But she hasn’t yet refused him, has she?”
Emma thought about it for a moment. “No. I suppose she hasn’t.”
“People romance in different ways, onawilke,” I told her, and we began our walk away from the square. “It is not up to us to decide what makes sense, especially in the realm of love.”
She rolled her eyes. “You talk so fancy.”
“I am a prince. I suppose it’s strange, for an American,” I said.
“Americans can be fancy!” Emma protested.
I snorted. “If you say so.”
She shook her head. “You Europeans think Americans are all southern accents, big guns, and cowboys.”
“Aren’t you?”
“You’d better stop while you’re ahead.” She scowled. “Sometimes I feel like I have a big sign on my forehead that screams I’m from the U.S.”
“Well, you show some pretty tell tale signs,” I said.
“And what are those?” she asked.
I glanced skyward. “Let’s see. You’re loud, outspoken, and insanely curious. You walk with a confidence and optimism only Americans have. But Malovians are opinionated and arrogant, anyhow, so that doesn’t matter much.” I shrugged, before I smiled. “People say they can tell when someone’s an American because they’re too nice and polite, or they smile too much, but no one ever mistook that with you, Emma.”
“Yep. I’m a real asshole,” she said, and I laughed.
We came to a stop near a river that ran through the middle of town. A large stone bridge led to an island in the middle of the river, where an enormous cathedral rose. It was made of stone, built with gothic architecture, four tall towers and elaborate statues adorning the outside. Each of the statues surrounding the walls depicted one of the seven gods and goddesses, and underneath them were sculptures of prominent Arcanean historical figures— mostly kings, queens, and warriors. A cobblestone court surrounded the cathedral, and people milled around it respectively.
“Whoa,” Emma said, peering up at it. “It has to be, like, two hundred feet tall.”
“And twice as long. It’s one of our most sacred ceremony sites,” I said. I took out a red headscarf and handed it to her. “Here. It’s considered disrespectful if you don’t cover your hair.”
Emma wrapped the red head scarf over her hair and flower headband, and we went inside.
As we entered, the sound of an organ and bells chimed throughout the hollow space. Emma turned in place, her mouth dropping open. The vaulted ceilings towered next to circular stained glass windows with millions of colors. They cast rainbows onto the floor as we passed different sections and vestibules, one for each god
and several for different Arcanean saints. Candles and incense were in front of the section statues, so people could bring offerings or pray. This time of year during the festival, it was heavily crowded.
I dropped my voice to a whisper— we were supposed to be quiet inside. “This cathedral was built in honor of the goddess Milonna. People often come here to pray for healing, or ask to find love. It is not unusual for unbonded Marked to venture here to ask for Milonna’s help in finding a Companion.”
We walked up the long hallway between the pews. A statue of the goddess Milonna stood at the head of the altar. Many young sorceresses were on their knees before it, giving offerings of flowers, fruits and vegetables, praying for a mate.
Emma stared at the statue as if she was called to it. A multicolored light from one of the stained glass windows shone down on her, creating a halo effect as she observed the statue of the goddess with wonder.
One old woman struggled to get up the aisles. She was having trouble walking. Emma noticed and hurried to help her. She grabbed the woman’s arm and aided her up the aisle.
“You look like you could use a hand,” Emma said as she guided the woman into a nearby pew in front of the Milonna statue.
“Thank you, my dear,” the wizened old woman spoke. “An old sorceress like me needs help to get around these days.”
“Have you come to pray to the goddess?” Emma asked kindly.
“Oh, yes,” she said. She sighed as she sat down into a pew. “For love, as all Marked do this time of year. My mate has long since went on to the Great Hunting Fields. I hope this winter to join him.”
Emma frowned slightly. “But then… you will die.”
“Death is nothing to fear, my child. I have lived a good life. I long to be young again in the realm of the gods,” the woman said. She smiled at me and said, “But your journey has just now begun. You have a good mate there— I can see it in him. Enjoy the time you have together, for it doesn’t last. Before you know it, seventy years will seem like seven, and he’ll be gone.”
Emma didn’t move to correct her. She patted the old woman on her back, and the woman bowed her head to pray. As Emma moved beside me, she seemed bothered.
“She thought we were together,” Emma whispered as we left the old woman behind us.
“Let her think that. What’s the harm, anyhow?” I said.
“I guess nothing,” Emma said, and she spoke no more about it.
I knew what the harm was— for me, anyway. I couldn’t possibly allow myself to hope that Emma and I would be together one day, truly. It was too risky for her.
“This place reminds me of some elaborate Christian churches,” Emma said. “I don’t understand the style.”
“Many Malovians are simultaneously pagan and Christian,” I told her. “It sounds strange, but in our country, we follow the old ways and traditions of our ancestors, as well as Catholicism and other branches,” I said. “It’s a blending of the two religions for the new world. As such, you get things like cathedrals being built for gods, and ceremonies being held for Jesus— and so on and so forth.”
We stopped when we reached the end of the cathedral. A long casket was set out, made of gold and precious gems. The casket was surrounded by hundreds of burning candles on tall silver stands. Behind it was a large statue of a bearded man, adorned in Arcanean regalia with a tall crown. He lifted a sword to the sky and looked triumphant. A plaque was set onto the casket. Lycus Nowak, King of the Arcanea.
My father would’ve hated it. He despised pomp and circumstance, but this was our way.
“Is this your dad?” Emma asked as we approached.
“Yes,” I said. “The monument was built shortly after his death. All kings and queens of Malovia are interred here at the cathedral. A year after his death, he’ll be moved to the crypt underneath the building, to lie with the rest of our royal ancestors.”
Emma picked up an incense stick out of one of the holders. “May I?”
I nodded. I picked up an incense stick, too, and we lit them both. Emma and I put our incense holders together as we simultaneously lit the biggest candle.
Emma glanced at me as we stuck the incense holders into a sandbox to fizzle out. “You know, I think your dad would’ve been proud of you. You’re kind of a cool dude.”
Wasn’t sure of that, but I smiled back anyway. “Thanks.”
We left the cathedral. Emma removed the headscarf and said, “I think this is my new favorite place in the city. It’s so beautiful.”
“It is,” I said. “Eight hundred years of history, all in one place. I just hope it keeps standing.”
“What do you mean?” Emma asked.
“The Black Claw often targets the cathedral. It’s one of the city’s greatest treasures. If they managed to topple it, it would destabilize the region and demoralize the people,” I said. “They’d have a much easier time taking over things if the city was in despair.”
“Do these assholes regard anything as sacred?” Emma asked in disgust.
I shook my head. “No. Nothing that regards to anything except power, maybe.”
I bumped her with my shoulder. “Anyway. Let’s not talk about the Black Claw today. There are other parts of the festival I want to show you.”
We spent the day watching the different entertainers and participating in the events. There was so much food— Malovians liked to eat. There was kielbasa, cabbage rolls, dill pickle soup, and lots and lots of ale.
And pierogi. Sweet pierogi. I loved pierogi. You didn’t mess with my pierogi. I was shocked to find out that Emma didn’t know what it was. Growing up in Detroit, with a large Slavic population, she should’ve known. But I knew when I watched her take the first bite of that fried potato dumpling, she was in love.
Around dusk, I took Emma’s hand. “The ceremonies are starting. Would you like to watch?”
“Ceremonies? Sure,” Emma said, baffled. She stared at our joined hands, but made no move to pull away.
It was just holding hands. Friends held hands, right? “Come on. Follow me.”
There was a large crowd of people on the path that led outside of town and into the forest. The setting sun cast an orange glow and long shadows upon the woodland.
We came to a very large, open area. The seats were wooden stools that were more or less stumps of old trees that had been cut down. They made a circle around a circular space lit with wooden torches.
A large black cauldron sat in the middle. Many people sitting nearby had brought at least one piece of firewood with them, or baskets of vegetables fresh from the harvest.
Emma and I shared one of the largest stumps. Odette and Theo resurfaced, along with Delmare and Stefan. Odette waved from across the way, sitting on Theo’s lap. Delmare and Stefan sat cross-legged on the ground in front of them. Stefan seemed to be telling a story. Miracle upon miracles, Delmare actually looked slightly interested.
I wondered where Kiara was, along with Alexei. I’d seen them together over the past week, but they hadn’t appeared all day at the festival. Where could they be?
“What’s the ceremony for? And what’s with all the firewood and vegetables?” Emma asked. The area had grown quiet. People knew something was about to happen.
I leaned over and dropped my voice to a whisper. “During Heimskanun, the veil between the death world and our world is thin. Winter has arrived, literally taking the life of the land with it. It is believed that the spirits of our loved ones cross over from the Great Hunting Grounds to be near us until tomorrow ends. So our priestesses help the spirits cross over by portraying the journey from life to death and wearing grotesque costumes to scare off evil spirits sent by the dark god, Droga. As for the wood and food, you’ll see.”
Just then, the torches dimmed. The area was barely lit by the light of the flames. Voices quieted as the sound of drums gathered. The nature of the festival immediately turned somber. Laughter and smiles died to be replaced with solemn faces.
From within the tr
ees, figures emerged. Seven sorceresses wearing deerskin dresses, their braided hair adorned with feathers, came into the area. They walked with bare feet and had crowns of deer antlers, to portray the Seven Gods. Their faces were smudged with ashes and black makeup. Long robes made of fur hung from their shoulders and trailed along the ground. Smoke rose from incense bowls they carried, which they placed around the cauldron. All of the women were middle-aged, or older. The eldest, the High Priestess, was certainly at least seventy— but she walked with a grace that women a quarter of her age couldn’t accomplish. She carried a staff that was wrapped with dying flowers, set with the skull of a stag.
Their Companions protectively surrounded the sorceresses in a circle. They were in their shifter forms. Their fur, scales, or feathers were also painted black— dirt from the graves of those gone on, mixed with ashes.
Younger sorceresses, in their twenties or so, stood at the edge of the circle, beating leather drums, clicking bones and antlers together for the ceremony’s music.
As the incense was placed around the cauldron, the sorceresses held out open arms to the crowd. The onlookers deposited fruits and vegetables into their hands as gifts, and the sorceresses threw it all into the cauldron.
The High Priestess reached into a leather bag at her hip and pulled out a bouquet of fresh flowers— the last of the season. She used a match to ignite them, and tossed them into the cauldron. The whole thing went up in a blaze, creating a huge fire that illuminated the faces of everyone in the area.
The High Priestess threw her hands into the air. “I call upon the Seven Gods to accept this offering— to guide us as we reflect upon the past year and all its blessings that the harvest has brung. Let our old harmful beliefs die, and painful pasts be released as we move forward into a new beginning. Allow us to look back on the previous season, discover where our weaknesses lie, and change us from the inside out as we renew to become better followers of the Old Way.”
