Chapter 5
“Doesn’t this defeat the whole purpose of your little charade?” I said, squeezing my snow-coat around me tightly, “Your religious holiday game was supposed to kill time while we waited for the storm to pass.” Now we were standing in the cursed weather. Everything was pointless.
Fortunately, the weather had died down a bit. The frozen wind was shrieking and squealing instead of screaming like a banshee. I could actually see my hand in front of my face, but the whole world smelled like ice.
“I don’t make the rules.” Sareash was fairly casual and comfortable in the icy wind, though she too was wrapped tightly in her snow-coat. “It’s the Feast of Lights, that means we need dragon-bursts.”
“Fine.” I said,“Who are we going to burn?”
“You.” said Trog, who was clearly getting tired of me and my mouth.
I spat and I could swear to you that my saliva turned solid the moment it struck the ground.
“Stand back everyone.” Cardinal had a red snowcoat. He insisted that his be red, even though that was the more costly fabric. Everyone was already standing back. Besides Cardinal, all of us had our backs against the door. We were huddled together for warmth.
“It’s time for fireworks, care of The Blood Mage.” He pulled his dirty red hat down over his forehead dramatically, then he tossed something round up into the air. He thrust his hands forward and there was an tremendously loud snapping sound, then a shower of small dark shapes mingled with the falling snow.
I don’t think the others could fully make out the shapes at first, human and orcish eyes are no match for those of an elf.
Cardinal blasted a second one. Sareash screamed in delight. It made me jump. When the third one exploded, Trog also screamed. I think she did it on purpose to make me mad.
There are no dragon-bursts here. I’ve seen dragon-bursts both grand and spectacular. Cardinal is simply tossing stones in the air and shattering them with his so-called ‘gravity bomb’ spell.
There was nothing at all spectacular about it. It was loud, yes, possibly dangerous, but nothing wonderful. I probably could have created better bursts and lights with my own rudimentary knowledge of illusion magic.
Then I turned and looked over at Sareash. Silly girl, hopping up and down, hooting and hollering. She wasn’t simply pretending to be excited, she was excited.
I could call it foolish, or I could think of a new word for it. Maybe I’ll call it childish, endearingly simple.
And then it hit me. The thought entered like air into my nostrils, rested in my chest and then left with the next breath, but the memory of the thought remained, and it remains to this day.
I wish I could feel what she feels.
That was nothing I wanted to dwell on. It was not a happy thought. If anything, it was a very sad one, but it made my heart swell with affection, not just for Sareash, but for all of these fools.
“Come on.” I said, “Let’s go inside where it’s warm.”
“Are you sure?” asked Cardinal. “I got like five more rocks.”
“I get the idea.” I said, deciding not to mock his intelligence, even though it would have been very easy to do.
—
Painful or not, that whole ordeal had helped to pass some time. It was getting toward mid-evening now, so perhaps they would let me go to bed.
“Well that was . . . something.” I said once we got inside, “I think I’ll go to bed now.”
“Wait!” Sareash seized my hand to stop me from leaving, “Wait. We haven’t done gifts yet.”
I frowned, “I don’t have any gifts for anyone.”
“That’s fine.” She said, “We have gifts for you.”
Cardinal gave me a silver hilted dagger he’d purchased from a trader a while back. It was a good knife, and I admit I had been eyeing it enviously. I was surprised he took notice. Sareash gave me a nice green scarf, one of several scarves she possessed. I think this was a woman’s scarf, but I didn’t mind too terribly. It smelled like her perfume.
Trog gave me another strange coin.
So she lied about only having one.
I felt a little bit bad that I didn’t have anything to give them back. I considered mustering a genuine “Thank you” but the words stuck in my throat. There I was, surrounded by friends, all looking on with kindness and expectation. I suddenly felt trapped, more alone than ever. I didn’t know what to say, what to do.
What was imprisoning me? What mystical barrier held me back? Kept me from reciprocating? From giving and receiving gifts?
Then a far distant memory crossed my mind, like a star shooting across the dark sky. There was a wooden cabin lit by a simple fireplace. A woman stood in front of me. She was taller than me. She was my mother, and I was only a child. She handed me something, a small, wooden toy, carved like a duck or a goose.
It was a memory I had all but forgotten, yet I knew immediately that it was a recollection from 163 years ago. My heart swelled with undesirable emotion; joy and fear and deep, deep longing. And there I was again, surrounded by friends, and it was the Feast of Lights.
Don’t cry, Ed. You can cry later, when you’re alone.
I stood up quickly from my seat, “Drinks are on me.” I said, and that would be my gift to them.
They all seemed genuinely surprised, and that felt nice. I made them all smile.
We all went up to the bar together and ordered our drinks.
“And they say,” said Cardinal, “That his heart grew three sizes that day.”
I scoffed, “That sounds quite incredibly unhealthy.”
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