This is a holiday vignette set in the world of The Kingdom’s Disdain. It takes place between the events of The Nature of the Beast and the upcoming novel Hounds of Ruin.
It’s just a little slice-of-life segment I pieced together. I enjoyed writing it, and I hope you enjoy reading it! Happy holidays, whether you are a Christian, an atheist, agnostic, pagan, or worship a magical dragon from space.
Prologue
It was cold in the city of Tremhaivar. Snow fell lazily between the stone buildings and the street lamps, lit by mystical crystals. Dusk came early in this northern part of the world and snow fell frequently, but tonight there was a particular kind of warmth in the cold dark. It was the twenty-third of Centaur.
“You know, the people here in Homule believe that Ahnae Ath Ivae is the day their gods, the Sereniad, formed their union.” The scaly clokken finished chewing the marrow out of his beef bone and spat the white residue onto his plate, “I think that’s interesting.”
“And what particularly do you find interesting about it?” The assassin named Worm, a half-elf killer with messy orange bangs, took a sip of his cranebranch tea. He hadn’t eaten anything all night, nor did he drink anything particularly potent.
“Well, you see . . .” Zaiveeur licked his golden eye mid-sentence, a crude habit of his, “On the South Belt Islands and in Laskmeer they think the twenty-third of Centaur is the birthday of some saint, Turmeric I think his name was.”
“Turin,” Worm corrected.
“Yes, Turin. Regardless, I just think it’s strange that all of these people celebrate the same day for different reasons. My people call it Sun-Day. We’re all told as young hatchlings that it’s the day the sun broke from its egg of darkness.”
“I don’t think it means much of anything.” said Worm, “It’s just the solstice, the shortest span of daylight all year. Of course the heathens would make up stories about it.” This was a jab. Worm had emphasized the word ‘heathens’ in hopes that it would spark a reaction in Zaiveeur, maybe even cause him to change the subject. It had no such impact. It never did. That lizard was unflappable and perfectly polite.
“Do you really think that’s all it is?” Zaiveeur asked, smiling for some reason.
“I do.” said Worm, “That’s all holidays are, excuses people make up to make their journey through the year seem meaningful. But there’s nothing meaningful about it, nothing divine or sacred.”
Zaieevur took a moment to think about this. He licked his other eye. “I suppose you’re probably right. You are very wise.”
Worm nodded in agreement. He did think himself very wise.
“But Worm, don’t you ever think it might be nice to join them in their folly? Whenever I’m
home I certainly enjoy the dances and meals of Sun-Day, even though I no longer believe the sun is an egg.”
“I have no interest in frivolity. If you wish to keep your holy-day, allow me to keep mine.”
“But you don’t keep it.”
“Then let me keep it unholy.” Worm said, finishing his tea.
“At least let me buy you a drink as a token of our partnership.”
Worm responded to this offer by sliding his chair back and rising from his seat.
“Come on now. I didn’t mean to offend you my friend.”
This drew Worm’s dark ire, “We aren’t friends.” he said firmly, “We’re working partners and nothing more.” Then he left the tavern.
It was cold and dark outside, but Worm didn’t care. His green eyes cut through the dark
and he went his way, trudging through the fresh snow, walking towards nothing in particular. As he walked, he couldn’t help but take several glances at the windows of the homes he passed, lit with warm light, filled with people celebrating together. Worm needed none of that. He was 167 years old, not a child by any stretch, a content, self-assured sorcerer, the hand of his god, the Arch Nightmare, a being who condemned every form of materialistic merriment.
So the night passed. One day was just like the next, and Worm was on the outside.
Chapter 1
-Edreimlecheth
Three weeks. Just three weeks and I’ve become something of a brute. I hunt beasts for the sport of it, like a savage. I’m becoming more like them, less civilized, less spiritual, yet for some reason this is the path you chose. You’re a fool, Ed. A devotee of burgeoning madness.
Snow fluttered before my eyes. I didn’t particularly care for snow.
It was cold. I could barely feel the damned nose on my face. Not that I had any desire to smell anything. The orcess, Trog was walking beside me, and she was bathed from tusk to toe in green sludge, the externalized innards of the Groth Roach we had all murdered together. I was perfectly clean, of course, without a speck of sludge or gut on me, but our frontline fighters were not so lucky. Princess Sareash Farmaldas was not so lucky. She was wearring her snowcoat, a short thing lined with animal fur. The coat was horribly stained, the hairy fringe matted with rapidly drying viscera.
The mighty red dunce Cardinal had some goo on him too. He’d gotten far too close. He didn’t listen to me like he should have. We were both sorcerers and had no business getting anywhere near a blood raged Groth Roach. I told him to stay behind me, but as soon as the roach unfurled its bladed mandibles he ran over to the princesses’ side, as though he was needed there, as though he was her noble knight and not just a spurned courter and second-rate conjuror, as though he could do anything useful up close.
More snow fell, first there was a trickle of white and then the sky opened up, dumping a load of crunchy ice crystals all over us, and our path.
Perfect. Slime and ice. What a day this is turning out to be.
“Oh, hey.” Cardinal said, “It’s snowing.” as if it wasn’t obvious to all of us.
-Cardinal
Did I need to say that out loud? Everyone else probably noticed already. Yeah. Worm is glaring at me. I mean, Edreimlecheth is glaring at me. He’s usually glaring at me. Maybe he just has resting bitch face. Or he hates me. Probably both. That’s fine. I don’t know if I like him too much either. I think he maybe kind of stole my girlfriend?
That was not a safe train of thought. I turned my attention to the outer world instead of the messy inner one.
Hadn’t seen snow since Mad rescued me from that giant spider in the mountains. That was another bad train of thought. Snow. Snow. Happy thoughts . . .
I found myself thinking back to Night-Star. Sareash and I had celebrated the Feast of Lights, which was basically Laskmeer Christmas. That was only a few weeks ago, but so much had changed since then. Without thinking about it much, I turned and looked at Sareash. For once I happened to be walking next to her. Usually she traveled close to Edreimlecheth. Today she seemed like someone I could talk to. She didn’t seem distant and threatening.
She turned and looked at me with a neutral expression.
This was my opportunity to speak to her, but talking was hard. My tongue was wrapped in knots of caution and indecision. Her cold blue eyes had such a weight to them, so I didn’t look at her eyes, I looked at the snowflakes falling between us. With a great force of will I managed to say something. “Looks like it’s the Feast of Lights again.” I said, and chuckled softly.
I knew as a kid, she always wished for holiday snow, but she never got it.
Sareash smiled back at me. It felt nice to make her smile.
She looked like she was about to say something, then Trog bellowed out behind us, “Is that an inn?”
I looked ahead and saw something green through the snow, which was falling fast and making it hard to see. It was hard to make out what the green thing really was, but I had a trick up my magician’s sleeve.
“Gravity bomb!” I cast my spell in the air twenty feet away. There was a soft booming sound and the invisible burst briefly created a clear circle of vision, parting the snowflakes with its kinetic force. I saw a decently large, brick building with a green tiled roof. It did indeed look like an inn.
“That’s queer.” said Edreimlecheth, coming closer, “There wasn’t an inn here before.”
You gotta stop calling random things queer, Edreimlecheth. It means something different to me.
“I think that’s because we’re going in a different direction.” Trog said, “Do you guys not notice? Was that not on purpose?”
Sareash wrapped her blue scarf more tightly around her face, “I thought this was the way we came from. Our camp should be an hour this way and the Stone-Rust village should be a few swoops beyond that.”
“No.” said Trog, “That was south-east. We’re going south right now.”
-Sareash
My face was starting to freeze. I didn’t want to have another argument with Trog. Yes, Trog had a way of sensing directions. She was also always sure of herself, sometimes without warrant. My mind told me she was a more experienced tracker and she was probably right, but my gut told me I was right. All of the landmarks looked the same.
“No.” I said, “You’re mistaken. This is the right way.”
“You can think that if you want to.” said Trog, “But we’ll end up lost in the mountains during a raging snowstorm.”
“No, you’re incorrect.” said Edreimlech in a condescending tone. “There are mountain graypetals growing beside the road. I remember those graypetals. This is the same path.”
“Flowers can grow all kinds of places.” Trog argued, “These could be different flowers.”
“No. That kind of flower doesn’t usually grow in this region. That’s the reason I noticed it. Someone most likely planted them.” said Edreimlech.
“Well, maybe the same person who planted them there planted them here, because we are sure as hell going south.”
The two of them bickered like this often. They were both terribly stubborn.
“Guys.” Cardinal said, raising his voice above our warring compatriots, “Maybe we should go to the inn.”
“I don’t know about that.” Edreimlech reflexively shut him down as he often did. At this point I wasn’t sure when and where to intervene. Everyone was grouchy and the snow was getting worse.
“No, he’s right.” said Trog, “This storm is only getting worse. If we don’t want to get frozen to death or ripped up by the wind we should find shelter!”
“Listen!” said Edreimlech, without following it up.
“Trog and Cardinal are right.” I said firmly, “The inn is the safest choice.”
Edreimlech grumbled something and fell behind. Together, the four of us made our way through the snow, to the inn.
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