“Mother!” she exclaimed as my father broke his stoic countenance and laughed. Hithelyn continued her sentence, “Why is not anyone on my side!”
Just then, I scooped her up and lifted her to sit squarely upon my shoulders. In doing so, I produced a screech of both fear and excitement. Fear because she completely did not expect to be lifted in the air at this particular moment in time when it appeared the debate was sealed without a verdict leaning favorably in her direction, and then excitement when she had the split second realization she was getting exactly what she had petitioned for. Following me by only seconds, my father scooped up Jinola producing a very similar reaction her sister had just displayed.
“Remember the moment,” I heard my mother state from behind as she observed her two men carrying her two daughters upon their shoulders while walking to a festival to honor me. I often times heard my mother and father make this statement throughout my life but did not ask her for an explanation of what its significance was until I was about 12 years old. In response to my question, my mother gave me this reply, “It is to remind us that life is about more than farming, or any one large event. That life is about more than our day to day concerns. Life is about the little times when we are not worried about the weather, or winter, or food. Life if found in those rare moments in time when all things seem to be in place and we can be together as a family. Life is about those little moments of perfection when all is right in the world. And we must remember these moments because that is where the strength to continue living is found. They do not happen very often, Drin, and we must understand how precious they are.”
The closer we drew to the festival entrance, we saw the number of people and their diversities grow. Everyone from merchants to farmers, peasants to tradesmen, entertainers to royalty could be seen walking under the huge arch commissioned by the Great Lord Emordin Henchat, all dressed in their finest attire. Carriages upon carriages were lined up waiting to drop off their respective passengers. Carts upon carts each filled with a different commodity to sell whether it be clothing, armor, weapons, artistry, or anything else that might bring a profit, were lined up at a different entrance to the North.
“Father! Father! Than man just blew fire from his mouth! Do you think he is part Dragon?” Hithelyn yelled.
“It is very possible. But I think that was just a trick,” he answered her.
“Look at that!” exclaimed Jinola as she pointed toward a towering man obviously walking on a contraption extending his height beyond the bounds of mortality.
Both of those were truly amazing; however, my attention had been drawn to the most enchanting sounds I had ever heard. Not too far toward our left and very close to the entrance were three ladies currently engaged in singing what must have been a song from a different part of Avendia because I could not distinguish any known words. Upon closer examination I saw that they were Elves! I had heard rumors of descriptions from various merchants passing through our farm. From time to time, they would stop to provision their caravans for the final leg of the trip from one of the more western cities to Twin Oaks; and as all merchants do, they loved to tell stories about their travels. For the success of a merchant is determined in part by the reach of his goods. The farther his reach, the greater his reputation, and the more he could charge for his wares.
Pervasive in every description regarding Elves were three attributes. Firstly, they were reported to be physically perfect. This perfection was not limited to stature alone, but extended to all things produced by their physicality, especially movement. Secondly, they were considered the best artisans in all of Avendia. From painting, to poetry, to music, to all other forms of personal expression, Elves were considered to exist on a slightly higher plane than the rest of us. And thirdly, they were, for lack of any other term, arrogant. But this arrogance was excused more often than not because who would not be arrogant having to live with that much perfection. From what I was seeing embodied by these Elven women, the three descriptions were accurate.
I could not remove my eyes from them not because of a compulsion laid against and overcoming my will, but because their collective voices had combined to produce a sound of unequaled exclusivity as if it had been produced for my ears alone. I was truly raptured. As if guided by the melodic fluctuations of their collective voices to follow a single path diverging from the combined brilliance, while my ears were focused upon the three, my eyes found their favor in one.
Tallest of the three, she stood perhaps only one to two inches shorter than myself. Hair the color of an orange sunset contrasting her emerald green eyes, both of which were set against a complexion of porcelain purity the likes I had never witnessed before. Clothed in a smooth, emerald green gown of material rivaling her perfect skin, she presented as if she was painted directly onto a canvas from the desires of my young mind. Her subtle movements accented her sharp and lean features the way the subtlety of a predator on the hunt accented its grace even though there was much explosive power possessed within. In an effort to escape her notice of my obvious intoxication, I would briefly glance to one of the other two Elves, both beautiful in their own expression. With each deterrent, however, came a pain of longing to see perfection again; consequently, I was unable to look away for more than a moment. When I returned my eyes to seek hers, not because I wanted to be noticed, quite the contrary, but because I was driven to do so the way one is driven to continue examining a painted masterpiece hoping to burn a visual replication into the mind for the sole purpose of revisiting it as often as possible, I met hers. Instantly I looked away only to return a moment later and find hers still lingering, a slight grin now set to her perfect lips. As if dismissing me and giving me permission to continue with my endeavors, their song ended and her eyes left mine to acknowledge the applause they were receiving from the rather large crowd that had been gathering.
“Let us go, son of mine,” my father said as he had taken a place right next to me. “I am sure you will see more of them, as well as many other performers inside the festival grounds. Not to mention we are needed at the Martial Tournament shortly.” It took me a moment to gather myself. In doing so, I glanced toward him and saw a large smile on his face transmitting all of his understanding in regards to being a young man. As we turned to walk toward the entrance and reunite with the rest of our family, one of which was standing impatiently with her hands upon her hips, my father roughly grasped me around the shoulders with a single arm and said, in a rare moment of emotional expression, “I am truly going to miss you, Eklirin!”
I had been to the festival on several other occasions prior to today, yet each time I walked through the ornate wood carved arches Lord Emordin Henchat had commissioned fifteen years ago, I never once lost the wonderment upon witnessing the following scene. He believed that building a reputation for excellence and splendor was essential in attracting the types of merchants and trade agreements necessary for the growth of our province. And because the Silver Selection was interwoven so intricately with the functioning of the Empire, its celebratory festival was the primary vehicle in the genesis and propagation of such a reputation. Increasing the wonderful sight of waking under the great archway, our festival grounds were surrounded by a ten foot high log wall blocking any and all observation and enjoyment from the exterior. One could not even begin to comprehend the interior without walking directly under the gates. Clearing the archway allowed this world to open.
The effect was nothing short of astounding. It must have been similar to peering through the keyhole of a locked room knowing that an array of wondrous objects and mysteries existed behind, but from the narrow perspective, only a fraction of its reality was visible. And then, after endless moments of unsuccessfully attempting to see the vast wonders through a grossly inadequate perspective, once the door opened, all visual desires became fulfilled. Even my father showed a small, child-like grin at the landscape we now beheld.
The festival was laid out as if a spider’s web was c
ut in half and placed horizontally on the ground. The main archway led to the main pathway which led directly to the Lord’s Arena. This was the central thoroughfare of the festival grounds and all the best artisans (and by best I mean the artisans who could afford to pay the highest lease fees) were traditionally placed somewhere along its length. As the spindles of the web progressed outward from the central road, the lease fees became less expensive allowing for the smaller and less established artisans to also purchase a space to show and sell their wares. Connecting all seven spindles were three half rings upon which more artisans were displayed. The lease fees for the connecting rings progressed in a similar fashion as the spindles. The closer the rings were to the Lord’s Arena, the more highly trafficked they were resulting in higher fees. The interconnection of these rings and spindles produced a very unique opportunity. Instead of leaving them be, they were widened and developed into circular stages complete with several small rows of seating, usually comprised of hay bales donated by the local farmers. The resulting uniqueness produced a very different viewing experience, but equally so, a very different performance experience. Only the best performers (and by best I mean those who could adapt their talents to the demands of their structured environment) were successful. However important the artisans and performers were to the success and renown of the festival, they all paled in comparison to the singular experience responsible for drawing crowd upon crowd upon crowd. All pathways, all food and drink, all performers, all artisans were purposefully placed in an effort to progress the visitors’ expectations centrally toward the culmination of The Festival of the Moon - The Martial Tournament. The whole festival was planned not only to be enjoyed by its attendees, but to be enjoyed in a very unique manner by its merchants and performers, for they would ultimately be responsible for carrying its legacy beyond the borders of city, province, and Empire. And no greater cause for the telling of tales exists than those created and propagated by prowess in one on one combat.
There were three separate tournaments within the week long extravaganza; consequently, the participants were separated in regards to one of three forms of martial combat: melee or hand to hand, ranged including the shooting or throwing of weapons, and magic. The only arena actually involving direct combat between two different participants was melee because theirs was the only form where weapons could be adequately padded to prevent serious injury. The other two forms comprised of hitting either stationary or moving targets from either a stationary or moving location. However impressive it was to hit a moving target square in the center from a moving position with an arrow, or to blow up three targets simultaneously by shooting three beams of energy from one’s hand, there was nothing quite as exhilarating as armed, and sometimes unarmed, combat where each potential strike could end the confrontation. As such, the melee portion of the tournament always drew the largest crowds, and traditionally the largest crowd was for the first battle because it pitted the defending champion, should he choose to participate and defend his title, against the combatant who presented as the least plausible to interrupt the champion’s successful defense. And it was moments before this fight that those young men who recently turned of age were presented to the gatherers and honored.
Because of the droves of attendees all walking toward the Lord’s Arena for this first battle, my father instructed us all to hold hands so none of us would become lost, but more importantly, so we could all witness my presentation together as a family. After the customary protest by Hithelyn stating she had passed the irresponsible youth stage in her development and should not be made to hold hands for her safety, we were all connected with my father leading, then Jinola, then my mother, then Hithelyn, and then myself. At this point, all we knew was that we were to go to the Lord’s Arena. We did not know where or when, or even how we would be approached with further instructions.
Then, when we were in visual sight of the Arena, my father saw a sign attached to a tree branch that read: “Selectees: This Way”. We turned slightly to the left and followed the instruction of the sign. Several feet away, there was another sign hanging from yet another branch again instructing us to follow. After three more signs, and three more agreements to follow, and three more protests by Hithelyn, we reached the sign that read, “Selectees: Gather Here”. We were now on the far left of the arena and found ourselves standing amongst what looked to be four other families with four other young men, all waiting for instructions. From their attire, it appeared we were the only farmers in the group. Two appeared to be from wealthy merchants as their clothes were finer than I had seen from the common city dwellers and certainly more fine than ours. One appeared to be city guard, but not a common guard, someone of advanced rank evidenced by the yellow and black cloak he wore pushed back and off his shoulders. Also, his was one of the only weapons I had seen that was not “peace bound”, a privilege and necessity for the local peace keepers. The final family appeared to be of common vocation, yet mildly successful because while their clothes were not as fine as the first two merchants, they were still clean and well pressed.
Though we appeared, when all gathered together, to share not a single commonality between our families, there was one which clearly presented itself to all onlookers. Nearly everyone who passed by our gathering acknowledged our collectively shared responsibility by stopping and quietly voicing perhaps the one phrase that everyone in the Silver Empire knew both the words to and genesis of: "For the good of the Empire. For the good of us all," could be heard, whether the speaker was still too young to grasp its full significance and merely did so out of a collective community induced obedience or old enough to fully feel the weight and importance of a statement responsible for supporting the foundational programs of an empire. Not differences in clothing, or nobility status, or calloused hands, or ability to read and write, nor daily chores, or martial ability could overshadow the singular and shared gravitational pull knitting our families seamlessly together on this day. We were all the same; we were all one.
After a few minutes of standing and gracefully acknowledging the welcome comments from those passing by on their way to find seats for the opening match of the martial tournament, my father walked over to the guard and began talking. I could not hear what he was saying as I was preoccupied with all of the current activity, but when I was able to break my eyes and ears away, I looked to see if I could deduce the subject and nature of their conversation. When it appeared he had gathered all the information he could, he thanked the guard and his family, paid his respects to their son, and returned to us.
"It appears that we are to wait here for the Lord Henchat's first advisor to come and give us instructions. Apparently, today's introduction at the tournament will continue much the same as it has since it began. The guard did tell me that there are rumors Lord Henchat is planning something special for this year’s selectees, though no one seems to know what it is,"
Hithelyn was the first to speak up, "How long do we have to wait?"
My mother responded, "As long as it takes."
"Well, how long is that?" she said with a hint of her high pitched wine.
"I do not know. I am not the first advisor so I do not know his schedule."
"Why do we all have to wait here? Can you not take me and Jinola to see one of the shows. Plus, I am getting hungry."
This time it was Jinola who spoke up, "Hithelyn, we all have to be here for Drin."
"Fine, but I'm still hungry and I want to eat as soon as we can," said Hithelyn with a slight tone of resignation while still trying to issue a command.
While looking around and trying to take in the familiar sights and smells of what could quite possibly be my final Festival of the Moon, I saw a squat, middle aged man walking briskly toward us. He was robed in the black and yellow of our province and was holding some papers in his hands. Following him was a tall and slender young woman robed in similar fashion. Because the squat man's head was down, he did not notice a young child dart in fron
t of him just as he was ready to cross the road and reach our gathering. As the young child got his first lesson in how difficult it is to stop when a significant amount of momentum is propelling an equal amount of mass by being sent spiraling to the ground, the squat man offered a verbal rebuke, "You need to watch where you are going. It serves you right for getting in the way of the Lord's business. Now get going before I call the guards on your parents for allowing you to run amuck without the proper supervision to avoid mischief."
As he finished his admonishment, I saw him incline his head to the young woman standing next to him. She nodded and walked over to the crying young boy who was now sitting on the dirt street. She knelt down beside him and produced something from her robes. I could not see what it was, but judging from the reaction it produced, instantly changing the boy’s tears to a smile, it could have been only some form of candy. She whispered a few short sentences to the boy who nodded in response. He then got up and scampered happily away, still unaware of anything potentially in his path. I glanced back toward the squat man and saw his eyes following the boy while his mouth was set in an affectionate grin.
After a brief pause, he looked toward our group and traversed the short distance to stand in front of all of us. Silently waiting until we all naturally stopped our minor activities and aligned our attentions to him, he looked at each one of the attendees for a moment, then moved to the other. Once he was satisfied he held all of our attentions, he spoke, “Good morning. Good morning. I trust I have all of your attentions. We have a busy morning ahead of us and I do not have time to repeat these instructions, so please, make note of them because we would not want any embarrassment, large or small, for Lord Henchat today. Firstly, Lord Henchat extends his gratitude and respect for both the Selectees and their families. He recognizes the sacrifice all of you are making for the good of the empire which will ultimately be for the good of us all. I am First Counselor Sintrinos and this is my assistant Niodia. We will be with you for the opening proceedings through the end of the first match. When we leave here, Niodia will escort the families to the Lord’s Dais." Turning to address the families, he continued. "There you will be seated until he is ready to enter. At that point, you will follow the leading of Niodia who will stand. It is important that when you see her stand, you also stand. This will be the signal for all those in attendance to stand as well. Once the Lord Henchat takes his position in front of his chair, he will offer his greeting. When he is done, he will sit. That is when you sit as well. I will then walk from the combatant’s chamber to the center of the Grounds of Valor and ask if the Lord is ready to receive the Honored Selectees," he said as he turned his attention back to myself and the other Selectees. "After his confirmation, I will announce your names one at a time and wait for you to stand next to me. Once all five of you are assembled, The Lord Emordin Henchat will address you. I do not know what he is going to specifically say, but I do know he will end his speech with ‘For the good of the Empire’, at which time you will answer him with ‘For the good of us all’. I will finally lead you to your places of honor seated next to the Lord himself to watch the opening match.”
Convergence (The Dragon Within Saga Book 1) Page 3
