Chapter 4
And behold, Bal’zomest, the Great Dragon, granted the child’s mothers a glorious gift. Each of the women had a vision, revealing unto them all the wondrous things that the boy was destined to do.
However, the mothers were afraid, and prayed and beseeched the dragon, “Please, the things we’ve seen are too great for us. Let us all forget the wonders we’ve seen, lest we die.”
So Bal’zomest, most merciful, let all of them forget, and once again, there was peace.
-Book of Law and Promises
-Cardinal
Sareash smelled different. It had to be some kind of perfume or something. Like pine trees and rose petals. I don’t know, the scent was intoxicating.
Sure, I wanted to sit with Sareash, like, really bad, but I didn’t let it get to me. Drathe was Drathe, and she was enjoying the holiday. So was Sareash. Sareash didn’t belong to me. Let them be happy. I wanted them to be happy.
The main hall was set up differently tonight. There was a central flame, like a big, seven by four foot fire pit, mounted at the center was a large ring, like some kind of upright metal hula hoop. The metal was red hot, and licked by flames.
Some of holiday ritual? Maybe we’re cooking something, or maybe they still do animal sacrifices here.
All the seats and benches were situated around the fire pit, so that all could see it, and those in the front rows like Sareash, Drathe and I, could feel the heat of the flames. I craned my neck in front of the flesh wall that was Drathe and looked to Sareash for answers, but she just shook her head. She didn’t seem to know what the ring was for either.
Rinbah came up and sat beside me. “Did you decide if you are going to play tonight?” She asked me quietly.
“Um, play? What are we playing?”
“This is the game Drathe was talking about earlier. It is called tarip, or ‘burn in the festive fires’.”
I think I see where this is going.
“It takes inspiration from a similar orcish tradition. A prize will be placed on the far side of the ring. Any hunter who is willing will take a turn leaping through the ring. The first to pass through without being burned will receive the prize, and we will all cheer them on.”
I eyed the fiery ring and tried to mentally measure it against my own width. It seemed a bit frightening, but I couldn’t see it being too much of a challenge. I was surprised this even registered as a threat to all of these well trained, fearless hunters. Maybe I would go first, before anyone else. No. That would be awkward. I would have to stand up in front of everybody.
Trog appeared, coming from behind us, me and the three girls. I almost jumped out of my seat.
“Got your prize here.” she grumbled, “I was going to offer a good knife, but this is what you people like.”
Trog was not dressed in a swira like the others, but was in casual clothes. She was probably from somewhere else where the customs and religion were not the same.
Are orcs like grinches?
She placed a large, blue bottle with three handles on a little altar at the far side of the fire pit.
“Finally, you’ve brought out the val-mead. The prize can’t be a knife every year you uncreative wretch.” Drathe said. I couldn’t see her face. “Besides, if it was a knife I might use it to stab you in the face, and that wouldn’t be in the spirit of the holiday.”
Trog glared back at the tiny human woman who dared insult her.
Oh no, she’s going to attack us. A fight is going to break out, here and now.
But instead, her green lips curled into a smile, “I can still beat you to death with this bottle of fancy-ass ale, you know that, right? When I win it, I’lll use it to smash your skull in.” She laughed.
Drathe was also laughing. “Wow, good idea. If you did that, you could use my shattered head as a chalice and drink out of it.”
The two started laughing hysterically. It was weird. No one else was laughing. Sareash and I looked at each other, confused. These were definitely dark jokes, but they were joking together, like old friends. Maybe it was the holiday spirit.
“Ale was the tradition in the early days of Night-Star.” I followed the voice across the room to Elmanthian, the old doctor. He was Trog’s friend, but seemed to get along with everybody. As far as I could tell, he’d been with the barrak longer than anyone else. “Vostag and Dralna before him always offered the strongest drink they could get their hands on. I remember-”
Everyone got quiet for a second while Elamanthian told his story. For the life of me, I can’t tell it like he did, not in text, but the gist of it was that, a few generations ago, there was a headstrong halfling named Jedrik among the hunters. He won the prize every year because he was quick and small. One year, Jedrik saved his prize and drank it on the night of Feast’s Eve, before tarip. Despite everyone’s warnings, he tried the jump anyway, even though he was smashed. He got terribly burned.
That was the story. Everybody laughed a lot. I was confused. I wondered if Jedrik survived. I laughed along so I wouldn’t look weird.
Wouldn’t be a real Christmas party if no one burned to death, right? Gotta be at least one deadly immolation or Santa won’t even show up.
Releeze, the scaly clokken bartender, offered me a holiday drink. I said not right now, thanks.
After we’d all had our good laugh, Trog brought us to attention, “Okay, who wants to go first? That ring won’t leap itself.”
I began to wonder how this really worked. Did people regularly try and fail and get burned, or was it like a game of chicken?
The first to go at it was one of the Hard Boys. I didn’t really know his name, but I recognized him as a Hard Boy because he was always wearing heavy metal armor like a medieval knight, even now.
His helmet was off, but he still had the greaves and the sabatons and everything. He was a Laskmeer human with a bald head and a small circle of hair around his mouth. The worst kind of beard in my opinion. When he got up, everyone started chanting his name, but they were all drinking and their timing was bad, so it sounded like “Clauden” or “Coco” “Cock-Rock” or something. I don’t know what it was.
He faced the crowed and did some kind of salute, then he said, “For the honor of the Hard Boys!” and took the leap. Anyone could see that he was too wide to fit easily. It was always going to be a tight squeeze. Cock-Rock crashed against the front of the ring and burned his arm. He screamed a deep, masculine scream and everyone burst out laughing. They cheered his name even louder as he sat back in his seat, dejected and suffering.
He was too wide. He didn’t even commit to the jump. What was the point of that? Why’d we watch this moron do that to himself?
This isn’t a test of skill, this is just a test of skinniness.
“He was too wide.” I said out loud. For some reason that was when everyone stopped laughing and clapping, so the whole room heard me.
Clauden Coco Cock-Rock looked at me and simply glowered, like the Grinch. He didn’t say anything, but sometimes a glower is worth ten thousand words.
I was on the spot now, so I silenced all my feelings and stood. “Yeah, I’ll do it. I’ll do it next.”
All eyes were on me as I rose to my feet and approached the ring.
I looked at the crowd. It would be an exaggeration to say all eyes were on me. This was a wild, drunken band of vikings. At least a third of them were chatting with each other, or looking into their drinks, or gazing baffled and drunken up at the ceiling.
Trog was looking at me. Her small, watery eyes were narrowed to slits. Memuenta was watching me. Rinbah was looking at me, impassive and elvishly distant. Most importantly, Sareash was watching me. She had a neutral, quizzical expression on her face, her head cocked to the side, like she didn’t know what to think. Drathe was looking at Sareash’s feet for some reason.
Why’d I have to run my mouth like that? Sareash is watching. What if I mess up? What will she think of me? Forget that, what if I get burned to death? What am I doing up here?
Okay, calm down. Getting worked up won’t help anything. Find your center. Gather your mana. Think about the sand. Think about the desert with the red stars. Empty your mind. Feel nothing.
I shut my eyes for an instant to block out all the visual stimuli. I concentrated on the task at hand.
Nothing but me. My body. My mana. My spirit. Myself. There’s no challenge I can’t overcome if I approach it right. I’m alone in the sand, floating in the darkness. Manifest. Soul. Body. Mana.
When I opened my eyes, the ring of fire was still there.
God, please. I need a Christmas miracle. Jesus or Space Dragon Jesus, please help me. Please get me outta here.
I stared into the ring, and I couldn’t help it, I glanced back at Sareash, hoping to find some encouraging vibes. She was still neutral. Still questioning. Still wondering if I could do it. She didn’t know, so I didn’t know.
What am I doing up here? Do I have a death wish? Is this suicide?
I felt like I was sinking, falling. My palms started to sweat.
“Fly, little bird!” Drathe, mocking me playfully, but I was terrified and this didn’t help. I heard the Hard Boys chuckling to themselves. I was still falling, sinking, shrinking.
If I don’t jump, Sareash will realize I’m a coward. If I jump and fail, she’ll realize I’m too weak to travel with. There’s nothing I can do. I’m doomed. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t. This is where my journey ends. On Christmas. Sareash will leave and I’ll have to travel alone. I can’t do it on my own. I don’t know how the money works or what’s safe to eat! I’ll get lonely! I-
“Wait.” Sareash spoke. I turned to see her, standing and walking toward me. The pine smell of her presence carried with her. “Cardinal, would you let me try first?I want to go first. It’s Feasteve, after all, please be generous?”
She was smiling, a warm, full hearted smile, but it was impossible for me to read her intentions.
I knew what I had to do, of course. I pretended to be disappointed.
“Fine. But I’m next.”
As I returned to my seat, I didn’t know whether Sareash had saved me on purpose or not. It was too much to think about.
I got Releeze’s attention and ordered something called Sweet Hardstoak.
I had complete faith in my princess. There was no way she would fail.
The whole room was quiet.
“My name is Temeriah Alccor.” she announced, performing some kind of warrior salute in the air. She had the whole room. “I’m a hunter of Night-Star, and I will succeed.”
I cheered softly when Releeze brought my stoak.
I took a long sip of and watched her dive through the ring like she was a dolphin at Sea World who did it every day.
She spread her arms like a gymnast after she landed. The room erupted in cheers. Everyone was on her side. Everyone was happy she’d won.
Amidst the fanfare, Drathe patted my knee, “You got a good one.” she said, “Don’t let her go.” but she wasn’t looking at me. She was looking at Sareash, like everyone was, starring like she was hypnotized.
“All right, Huntmaster.” Sareash starred Trog down, “That prize.”
Trog sneered, or maybe she smiled? “It’s all yours, Temeriah of Night-Star.”
“I’m glad that’s over with.” Rinbah muttered under her breath. As I surveyed the room, I noticed that a lot of people seemed relieved. Maybe I wasn’t alone. This game was as much a thrill as it was a terror, and Sareash had saved us all from having to compete. Everyone in the room was looking at her, some with wonder, some with affection, some with resentment, but all eyes were on Sareash, Temeriah. It was easy to forget that we were still newcomers here, still relative outsiders. People admired Sareash. I wonder what they thought about me.
I followed the eyes back to Sareash, and her eyes were on me. She was smiling warmly and holding the prize, a bottle of some expensive mead. “Cardinal, thank you for letting me go first.” She gestured to Drathe, who made a show of being annoyed, then moved aside. Sareash dropped into the seat next to me, then she dropped her head on my shoulder. It was warm. She was warm.
“Yeah, uh, no problem.”
She hugged the bottle in her arms, “I’m sharing this. Half of it belongs to you. You let me win it, after all.”
Releeze appeared with two nice glasses and poured it out for us.
“That’s not fair, Temeriah? Why aren’t you sharing it with your big sister?” Drathe was pouting again. Instead of quipping back, we just ignored her. “You love fish are disgusting. I need to find Memuenta or I’ll start throwing things across the room.”
The ale was delicious. I mean, I’m sure the ale was delicious, but I couldn’t describe the flavor to you. I hardly remember it. I just remember looking at Sareash, her beautiful face smiling back at me, really truly smiling. The tips of her fingers were touching mine and my heart was full. She smelled like pine, and the fire was warm beside us. Right now, in this moment, I was okay, I was happy.
To be real, a lot of shit was about to go down. The story of my quest for the Rot Lord, my amnesiac wandering across the poisoned continent, my tumultuous, soap opera love life, none of that was over, but even knowing all that now, I’d still say this was the best Space Dragon Christmas ever.
-Sareash
As I performed the dark-elf rinshakudo-velk dive through that ring of fire, I was still thinking about that Feasteve five years ago. For some reason it was on my mind.
I remember leaving Lageiriun behind.
I went off to wander the booths and tents myself, and I was looking for something, anything to occupy me, to interest me. I stopped by a stand where they were selling sashes, imported quality goods all the way from Sariabe. There was a booth selling wind up/ mechanical toys from Freub-Chal. There was a booth with seafood cooked by a dwarvish master chef from the enemy nation of Alfec. All of it could have thrilled me, but none of it did. I was looking for something, for someone, looking toward that city gate, lit by crystals and torches. Waiting for someone.
But years later, he came; dressed in red, carried by the bones of the dead, an evil wizard, and my heart began to beat again.
Maybe it was him.
I took Cardinal’s hand and squeezed it, and he smiled a tiny, mysterious smile at me. I realized I wasn’t searching for something anymore, I was content to sit here, with him.
We didn’t kiss, somehow that touch was enough, it was innocent, childlike. Feasteve is the right time to be childish, right? We’re all children of the gods.
Graggi Nucolt shouted something muffled that I couldn’t understand and people got up and started scrambling. He shouted again “Dragon bursts!” and I was on my feet, dragging a baffled Cardinal behind me.
Someone opened the heavy front gate, letting in the cold night air. It was cold, like it should be on Feasteve. Graggi was pointing up at the sky.
“What are we looking for?” Cardinal asked. I didn’t answer. I kept my eyes on the sky above.
There was a soft popping sound in the distance, then I saw a red light just over the hill.
Just like the star the sorcerors followed.
It flew up and then burst into small red and blue flakes. Everyone fell silent, then began shouting and cheering as more bursts flew up.
“Oh.” said Cardinal.
“Ek-Klek dragon bursts. I didn’t think we’d be able to see them from here!” Graggi explained.
I stood next to Cardinal and watched the bursts with him. He was always hard to read, but I hoped he understood the significance. This was the first time I’d ever watched the bursts with him.
-Cardinal
Drathe and Memuenta were up front with Graggi, leaning on each other as they watched the Dragon Christmas fireworks. Rinbah was behind them, standing still in the middle of the crowd. Trog was back in the barrak with Elmanthian. They were chatting about something between drinks, but their eyes were on the fireworks too.
I stood with Sareash and I watched. This was important to her, like Christmas. She was vulnerable with me, and in a way, everyone was. We were all celebrating together, so I let myself relax, and I smiled.
This moment, this night, I saved it like a photograph, stored it for later. This was a night I could live in, spend the rest of my life in.
I was not home, not on earth. I wasn’t safe in any real sense, but I was at peace. I rested.
Happy Birthday, Jesus.
—
In the day that followed, we played games, we drank, and believe it or not, Trog herself carved the roast beast (I called it that because I had absolutely no idea what type of animal it was). Sareash and I went alone to a quiet room, and—-
She read me some verses from her Space Dragon Bible.
Bal’zomest bless us, everyone.
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