by M. L. Greye
Emry found herself trying to mimic Sabine’s simile. “I am. Even in Enlennd, Heerth festivals are infamous.”
“Sun’s Day is by far our largest celebration of the year. I fear any future holidays of ours will be dull in comparison.” Sabine lowered herself onto one of the vibrant pillows that had been placed near the fountain on the floor.
“Unlikely.” Emry sank onto a green and teal pillow beside Sabine while their array of maids remained standing.
“You forget, sister, that our Emerald hails from Enlennd.” Trezim materialized beside the fountain. Out of the air. No, out of a ray of light from the ceiling. Emry stared at him as he chose the bright sofa across from her and Sabine. “We Heerths are a much livelier populace.”
Emry felt like rolling her eyes. Trezim had spent all of one week in Enlennd. Instead, she said, “Where did you come from? I didn’t realize you would be joining us for the festival. I’ve heard no news of your arrival in Zyntar.”
“That’s because he arrived not thirty seconds ago.” Sabine grunted.
“What?” Emry darted a glance between the siblings.
“As a Gold, Trez travels on light,” Sabine explained, her voice monotone – as if it were the dullest topic she’d ever discussed. “He can go great distances in mere hours.”
“Is that true?” Emry turned to him, eyes wide. “When did you leave Acoba?”
“Maybe two hours ago,” he drawled, adjusting the thick, gold bands around his wrists.
Emry gawked. She couldn’t help it. She’d never heard of anyone being able to travel so far so quickly. “Not even Teals can run that fast.”
“When my sister says run, it’s merely a figure of speech,” Trezim clarified. “I’m not actually running. We Golds can become light and glide through the world.” He tilted his head to one side. “I’ve heard Silvers can do something similar with moonlight. I take it you’ve never tried?”
She blinked. “No. I wasn’t aware it was a possibility.”
“You should give it a try.”
“I wouldn’t know where to begin.” She frowned.
“I suppose that’s just something else I must teach you,” he mused, grinning slyly.
A soft bell sounded from up above them in the solarium – like a tinkling of coins. It was the signal that the king was approaching. As one, Emry, Trezim, Sabine, and the other royal offspring rose to their feet. Once the king was to them, they would exit the palace and the festival would begin.
CHAPTER FOUR
Declan dug into his plate with the fervor of a man who hadn’t eaten in days, rather than the few hours it had actually been. After the end of his shift earlier that morning, he’d shoveled down a quick bowl of oatmeal before heading back to his bunk. Usually he ate a large meal, but today he was too exhausted. Sleep had meant more to him than food.
He’d pushed himself the night before. It had rained again – as it did almost every night in Anexia in the summer. Being the genius that he was, he’d had the bright idea to try to outrun the rain. He’d run up and down the border all night in a sad attempt to keep himself from becoming wet. Surprisingly enough, he did achieve some level of success. He managed to keep the inner layer beneath his overcoat for the most part dry. His neck and wrists hadn’t escaped the rain, but the rest had fared fine. It’d been at the cost of his energy, though. By sunrise, he was practically dead on his feet.
Now, refreshed from the hours he’d spent unconscious on his pillow, Declan’s hunger had gotten the best of him. He stuffed the last few bites on his plate into his mouth, and reached for a deep swig from his cup. His stomach wasn’t satisfied. He’d need another plate, maybe even two. Food was fortunately not short to come by in the barracks. Commander Jaymes understood the importance of keeping his warriors well fed.
Releasing a sigh, Declan grasped onto his scuffed metal plate with one hand and its matching cup in his other. He was just about to push himself to his feet when Finn and Clint dropped down across from him at the table. Declan barely knew the two young men. They’d never actual spoken, despite the fact that they regularly worked the same shift.
“I’m only repeating what my cousin told me,” Finn told Clint, after a quick nod in Declan’s direction. “People in North Quirl are getting jittery. They’re moving out – closer to the middle.”
“I don’t buy it,” Clint scoffed in between bites. “People don’t just pack up because of a few storms.”
Declan frowned. North Quirl was the area above Kruth. Since Quirl wrapped around Enlennd and had no regions, the portions that touched Glavenryl, Anexia, and Kruth were referred to as South Quirl, the middle, and North Quirl. Those in North Quirl were mostly shepherds – keepers of goats, sheep, and llamas. The families who lived there had been there for generations. Declan could see why Clint didn’t believe the rumors Finn’s cousin had fed him.
“These aren’t just any storms,” Finn countered through a mouth full of food. “The whole sky turns black as night with lightning making it as bright as midday.”
“But never any rain?” Clint rolled his eyes.
“None. At least, not with those storms.” Finn shook his head, his eyes on the piece of chicken he had stabbed with his fork. “And the lightning has made the herds skittish, acting all funny.”
“So, they leave their ancestral farms for the busy middle? Without even consulting a Gray to try to get rid of the storms?” Clint snorted. “It sounds a little too farfetched.”
Finn shrugged. “Supposedly the Grays can’t get rid of them, either. But like I said, it’s just what I heard.”
Declan had eavesdropped long enough. He stood, his plate and cup in hand. This was the first he’d heard of any trouble up north. The storms must be a recent problem, but one that had been going on long enough to push the residents to relocate.
As he dumped his dishes in the collection bucket near the entrance to the kitchen, Declan was frowning. The thought of more food was no longer appealing. His mind chewed over the news he’d just learned.
He doubted the migration to the middle would really affect him. Where he was stationed was far enough from the main roads into Quirl’s capital that most of the travelers who passed through his garrison’s gate were either visiting relatives or merchants.
Still, the storms were unsettling. What was going on over there? He hoped the storms wouldn’t decide to cross over the Kruth Mountains because that could possibly affect him. No use worrying over them for now. He’d ignore them until they became a threat to Anexia. Let those Jewels in Enn be concerned over Quirl affecting Enlennd. He had another shift to get to.
With a yawn, Declan strode out of the mess hall and into the fading afternoon light. He had about an hour before he was due at the gate – just enough time to practice his average archery skills. It had never been his strength. Still, struggling through some archery beat going back to his bunk.
Declan rolled his shoulders in an attempt to loosen his aching neck. His bunk pillow was flatter than he preferred. Such was life in the garrison. Loosing another sigh, Declan made his way to the handful of archery targets at the opposite side of the garrison.
:::::
The festival was nothing like Emry had ever seen. Bright yellow and gold scarves were everywhere – scarves like the one Emry’s maids had wrapped around the bun on her head. Some had them tied around their hair, others around their biceps or wrists, and almost every window had some sort of cloth dangling from it. Merchants of every shape, size, and color lined the streets selling their various sweet and savory delicacies – their aromas filling the air so thick they coated Emry’s tongue.
Where there wasn’t a booth of goods, street performers filled the gap. Belly dancers, musicians, tumblers, singers, artists ... So many. All dressed in the vibrant colors of Sun’s Day. Emry didn’t know where to look.
There were countless numbers of people flocking the streets. Eating. Shopping. Laughing. Clapping in time with the musicians. Dancing along with the performers. Everywh
ere was so loud – a harmony and cacophony at once, all the reverberations of revelry. It was deafening, really.
And Emry loved it all. Every single bit of it. From the crush of the throng, to the sticky scents that clung to her skin, to the tumult of a thousand sounds combining into one. Chaos. Glorious chaos.
Emry stared with wide eyes, her head twisting this way and that. Taking in as much as she possibly could. She wanted to linger at the top of the hill, just to observe from a better vantage point. But the king and his children sauntered on, deeper into the festival. Down to the prepared square – just below the stately townhomes she’d seen her very first day in Zyntar.
Sabine was at Emry’s right, and Trezim was to her left. The king’s children didn’t proceed after their father by birth order but rather as a clump. Meandering from one person’s side to another. Emry was towards the front, behind Portos – Trezim’s next younger brother – and a couple of his younger sisters.
As they neared the square, Emry noticed an empty platform set right at its center, topped with a vivid blue canopy. Cushions of all colors were strewn across it, around a long, low table. It had enough space for the entire royal family. Below the platform, many more cushions and low tables were spread, already filled with people chatting and enjoying their refreshments. There were so many tables Emry couldn’t count them with just a glance around. There had to have been at least fifty tables, packed to the brim with commoners. Sun’s Day was the day the Heerth royals held their court amid their people, not courtiers.
With the approach of the king’s procession, the entire square leapt to their feet and cheered. Applause reverberated off the stucco walls of the buildings encircling them. The king only smiled and began clapping out a beat with his hands. Almost immediately his children joined in. Emry, as previously instructed, followed along the best that she could.
Slowly, the applause shifted into a copy of the beat of the royals, then stomping began, interspersed with the clapping but still keeping the beat. Emry had thought the market streets were deafening before, but this ... The synchronized noise was so loud it became a part of her – shook her very bones, became the heartbeat within her chest.
They carried the beat all the way up to the platform, where the Heerth royals – Emry included – kept it going, stomping now as well. Somehow it grew louder, carried from further away.
Minutes passed and still it rose. Children began to clamp their hands over their ears. Emry felt her own ears ringing. Still the uproar continued its ascent. Building and building, until it finally it came to a crest, and the king stomped one last time.
Then silence. Absolute ringing silence. For about ten seconds. Before tumultuous cheers broke through all of Zyntar.
Sun’s Day had officially begun.
The king eased onto one of the cushions, at the center of the table, as if nothing had just happened. As if the most magnificent event Emry had ever partaken in hadn’t just came to a close. The rest of the king’s children, including Emry, nonchalantly followed suit. They lowered onto the cushions with polite smiles on their faces. Emry struggled to stop herself from grinning like a little girl. Her heart was thundering in her ears.
The applause eventually died down, and the square returned to how it’d been before their arrival. Chatting and music filled the air once more. The royal family seemingly forgotten. Servants from somewhere rushed forward with trays of fruits, cheeses, and breads, setting them onto the king’s table. Emry filled a plate with strawberries as the other Heerth royals turned their attention to the food as well.
Both Sabine and Trezim ate exactly three grapes, one bite of cheese, and two torn pieces of bread before they rose to their feet.
Emry glanced up in surprise as Trezim offered her his hand. “Are you not hungry?”
“Not for mere hors d’oeuvres,” Sabine grunted.
“Come,” Trezim smiled. “We’ll show you the real fun of Sun’s Day.”
Trezim and Sabine led Emry through the market. The princesses’ usual array of maids had dispersed. Apparently, on holidays, their maids weren’t required to follow them around. Emry was just fine with that.
She and the two Heerth royals stopped for lamb shanks, smoked fish, delicate flaky pastries soaked in honey, teas with chocolates, and finally biscuits soaked in syrup and melted butter. The biscuits were Emry’s favorite thing she tried. She had two servings before she became too full.
They then contented themselves on watching the performers as they walked through the packed streets. Emry was especially impressed with a pair of men who juggled inflamed swords that would shift between being coated in ice and on fire – an Orange and Pale who would switch the blades’ temperatures in the air. Although, the blue-eyed woman who crafted dancing creatures made entirely of water was a very close second.
It took Emry a while to realize Trezim and Sabine were leading her toward a specific destination. It wasn’t until Emry heard another rhythm. This one wasn’t produced from clapping but rather a thwack thwack sound.
They rounded a corner and came to another square. Instead of tables, this one was filled with three clay rounds. Emry had been here the day before with her maids, when workers had been smoothing the clay. Now, the rounds were filled with people – both men and women.
Each round had three pairs of people – six to every round. In each person’s hands was a thick wooden staff. They were twirling and hitting the staff of the person across from them. Tapping out a rhythm, keeping it in unison. Every so often the pairs would split – changing partners.
Emry was entranced. The way they moved was so smooth and graceful. Yet, the staffs they swung were weapons. Emry had never seen fighting like this. It was … like a dance. It was like a dance. The Turanga. Emry didn’t have to ask Trezim. This was what he’d wanted her to see. To learn.
Sabine came up alongside Emry and patted her shoulder. “Enjoy. I’ll meet you in the dance square later.”
Was this the dance square? Emry wasn’t sure, but she only nodded in response. Unwilling to tear her eyes from the display on the rounds.
Trezim leaned his mouth close to her ear. “Do you like it?”
Emry almost jumped to the side, out of his reach. Trezim’s breath on her neck startled her. But, once again, she only nodded.
“Would you like me to teach you?”
She turned then, backing up slightly so she could see him. “You’re not going back to Acoba?”
His gaze drifted beyond her to the dancers. “I’m to remain at the Solar Palace for the summer, as is required by my father every year.”
Emry frowned. There was a brittle edge of resentment to his words. Did he not like being ordered about by Krynto? She didn’t think she’d be particularly fond of it, either. It wasn’t her place to pry into Trezim’s relationship with his father. So, Emry asked, “When did you have in mind to start teaching me?”
He smiled, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “In two days.”
“Not tomorrow?” She said it mostly as a joke, but a part of her was anxious to begin learning how to protect herself as soon as possible.
Trezim laughed. “Trust me, you’re going to need a day to recover from today.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I’m going to drag you up and down these streets to every vendor in sight, until your feet scream at you to get off of them.” This time his smile gleamed in his eyes as well.
His enthusiasm was contagious, and exploring every vendor really did sound delightful. Yet, something in Emry made her roll her eyes and retort, “A lady never complains about her feet.”
“I’ve never been with a lady who hasn’t.” He snorted, brushing back a loose strand of his golden hair.
She grinned. “Well, that’s interesting.”
“What is?” He blinked.
“That you’ve never been with a lady,” she replied sweetly.
He stared at her. “That’s not what I meant.”
Emry laughed at his express
ion as she linked her arm through his. “Alright, Trezim, I’ll bet you two biscuits with syrup that you complain about your feet before I do.”
The startled look in his eyes shifted slowly into mirth as he glanced down at her. “I accept your challenge. But be warned, I adore biscuits and syrup.”
“Oh, Trez.” Emry patted his arm with her free hand. “To win those biscuits, you could cut off my feet, and I still wouldn’t complain.”
“That got dark quickly.” Trezim grimaced. “And since when am I Trez?”
“You call me Emry.” She shrugged. “I’ve decided to call you Trez. Do you not like it?”
It took him a moment to reply. “I don’t think I mind it.”
“Good.” She nodded once, and they began winding their way through the crowd again. They had taken all of three steps when she added, “Although, even if you hadn’t liked it, I still would have used it.”
Trezim chuckled. “Of course you would have.”
:::::
Emry’s first Turanga lesson was supposed to have started at dawn in the practice room above the armory. The armory was behind the palace – a separate building that was identical to it on the outside, but nothing like it on the inside.
It was constructed of three floors. The first housed all manner of weapons on shelves and racks and hooks. The second floor was the large, open practice room – filled with five rounds of red clay. The third was the offices for the leaders of King Krynto’s city guard. The interior of each level was all the same – slate gray tiled floors, stucco walls painted in a lighter gray than the floors, and a ceiling with rich dark beams running across it.
The armory wasn’t a particularly cheery place. Emry told herself she didn’t really care. She was there to learn to defend herself. It didn’t matter that it felt like the inside of a rain cloud. She only had to practice there, not live in it.
