Chapter 4
Candles stood at every table, turning the darkness to a warm dimness and marking that dimness with a score of yellow stars. It was a minor decorative change, but it made a big difference. One of my companions must have spoken to the denizens of this storm sealed cavern, or maybe Sareash had paid them all.
The lights seemed to have improved the moods of all the bar patrons. I could see all of their groggy faces lit with joy, every man and woman with a drink in his or her hand. Perhaps Sareash had bought them all drinks as well. When I came down the stairs, they all stared at me for a moment before going back to their mead and conversation.
My eyes followed Sareash as she left my side and scampered happily over to a table at the west side of the bar. Cardinal and Trog were standing there waiting, smiling next to a truly massive hunk of meat.
They were all standing there and grinning at me. It was weird.
I waited for something to happen.
They continued to stare beside the meat.
At length I said “What is that?” pointing at the huge pile of flesh.
“Christmas feast.” said Cardinal.
“Feast of Lights . . . feast.” said Sareash.
“A dead boar they had frozen in the back.” said Trog, dropping the fake smile and sitting down, “You gonna eat or what?”
I was never much of a meat eater. Many elves avoid dead flesh entirely. I tolerated it, as it was hard to avoid in most cultures, but it was by no means something I ever intended to gorge myself on.
“Sure.” I said, relenting and seating myself, “If you’re going to insist.”
“At-a-boy Scrooge.” said Cardinal, speaking in nonsense sounds.
There were also a few sides, nothing too significant. Bread. Some grain mash. A fairly pedestrian block of cheese.
Cardinal and Trog were already chatting back and forth by the time Sareash had finished cutting off slabs of meat and dishing them out to us. I looked at my large chunk of flesh.
Sorry boar. You were once a living creature, and now your carcass will go to waste. I can barely eat a third of this.
“So um . . .” Sareash spoke up and the other two fell quiet, “Would you all mind if I prayed?”
I did mind. Of course I bloody minded! The Lord of Nightmares had no fondness for the Dragon of Laskmeer. But I decided to be quiet, as a gift to Sareash.
Seeing no objection from me, she proceeded, “Blessed dragon, mighty of claw and wide of wing, grant us this day a portion of that blessing which you bountifully poured out on Saint Turin on the day of his blessed birth. May all of our friendships be blessed and safe under the shadow of your mighty wings. Warm our hearts with your holy fire.” Then she did that silly thing they all do where they claw their fingers and growl. It took all of my strength not to laugh. I think Sareash still saw the mockery in my eyes when she looked at me, because she frowned.
The others all continued to chat while I picked at my food. I wasn’t feeling particularly hungry and the meat was dry and stringy. This dead animal was now blessed by some dragon’s putrid fire. It would probably taste like earwax.
“My people have this Christmas Legend.” Cardinal yammered.
“Seriously, what’s Krissmuss?” demanded Trog.
“It’s what his people call the Feast of Lights. Instead of Turin they celebrate Saint Jeezose.”
“It’s Jesus, actually, just Jesus. Anyway, we have this Christmas Legend called ‘Diehard’. I think you would like it, Trog.”
They yammered and chirped for a long while and I mostly kept to myself. Sareash and Trog ate half the boar.
—
“Now comes my favorite part-” the middle of the floor had been cleared and there was a large blanket covering something. Trog was standing up like she was going to make some kind of speech, “Trapi! The Holiday Trials!” She lifted the blanket and revealed an array of sharp metal objects, swords, knives, farming tools and forks. They were piled up and covering a circular span of about a claw and a half.
I think she saw the confusion on my face.
“Usually we have a whole ordeal with a ring of fire . . . but I couldn’t really get a ring of fire, so we’re all going to take turns trying to leap over the Pit of Blades.”
“Why?” I asked.
“So you can get a prize. Whoever manages to leap over the pit of blades without dying will receive my prize.”
“Tell me what the prize is.”
She thought about it, then said, “No. So, who wants to go first?”
She looked across the room. All the festive bar patrons evaded her eyes.
Sareash raised her hand, then looked back at me, “Um . . . Edreimlecheth, do you want to go first?”
“No. I absolutely do not.”
“Fine.” she glowered, “Then I shallt.”
Sareash easily jumped over the pile of forks. Of course she did. I had seen her leap over entire buildings. She didn’t even die. She didn’t even get close to dying.
“Who would like to go next?”
“I guess I could.” Cardinal said, drinking more swolt.
Cardinal easily jumped over the pile of forks. Clearly the pile of forks was not a real threat. If it was, it would have killed Cardinal.
There was a silence. Cardinal started chanting, “Edriemlecheth! Edreimlecheth! Edreimlecheth!” Sareash joined him, then Trog. Their blasted holiday spirit must have been contagious, like a flesh-eating disease, because the people in the bar started chanting too, although none of them could say my name correctly.
“Fine!” I finally shouted, “I’ll jump your damn pit if you all shut the hell up!”
This seemed to pacify them. I felt like a fool.
I took a running start and easily jumped over the pile of forks.
“I guess I made that trial too easy.” Trog said, shrugging.
“And the prize?”
“Oh . . . I only have one prize. I guess I didn’t really think this through.”
“Just give it to Edreimlecheth.” said Sareash. Cardinal nodded in agreement.
She handed me a bronze coin with a symbol I didn’t recognize on it.
“Your prize is . . . this weird coin I found a few days ago. Happy feast.”
“Wow, look at that!” said Sareash, way too close to my ear, “Your first feast gift!”
I sighed, “I’m not a child. Please don’t treat me like one.”
Next, it was apparently time for light bursts.
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