The festival was a multi-day event. It spanned both day and night with events and entertainment of many sorts, along with games, contests, dances, and constant food and drink. Stores would be closed, and the town would be full of life and boisterous joy.
Most people would start off at the tavern, where the first stories would be told. There was an informal circuit of particular places at certain times where one could eat and drink and listen to songs and tales of Cairon’s and the empire’s ancient pasts.
Gust planned on taking Lance to the tavern to begin the circuit. He wanted to introduce his friend to as much Cairon myth and culture as he could, and to have him experience all aspects of life, especially entertainment and community. And since Lance was still healing, it would be good to have him sit and relax as often as possible.
The morning and afternoon before the festival, however, Lance was making a nuisance of himself trying to be helpful. Granted, Lance meant well. He carried anything heavy despite Kissa’s reproaches, and even helped drying dishes. He took orders well, almost eager to be told what else he could do. He was also well-adept at cleaning blood out of bandages and clothes, which shouldn’t have surprised Gust as much as it did. He endeared himself to about half of them, and the apprentices weren’t so afraid of him anymore. It also helped that Gust had told all of them about the bear incident while Lance was out of the room. It relieved him to see them warm up to his friend.
Lance was more than willing to carry a patient in when Amin broke his leg falling off a roof he was repairing. He stayed nearby, and there was no mistaking the wonder in his eyes when Gust and Seth tended to Amin. Not everyone had such respect for healers. Then Gust remembered their earlier conversation about healers and what that warlord did to them. No wonder Lance was fascinated. He was like a curious child.
Despite his usefulness, he was a bit too eager to please, and there was no mistaking the relief when Gust finally managed to tug him away. Brutus had returned to the field, and Gust took some money for a meal and a drink at the tavern. It was still light out as they made their way to the tavern. They passed near enough to the market square to hear that games were in full swing and an energetic dance was taking place on the designated wooden dancefloor. Lively music encouraged the dancers to put their all into it. Lance stayed close to him and swiveled his head around in wonder before they stepped inside the tavern.
Noise blasted them and Lance tensed. Gust took hold of his arm and guided him toward the back to one of the smaller tables. Lance sat, alert and observing. Gust patted his shoulder before walking to the bar and ordering food and some ale. The tavern served decent food.
He received some waves and shouts. He nodded to everyone and yet didn’t stop to converse. There were almost as many children and young folk as there were adults, everyone clearly having a good time. It was certainly an event to anticipate with excitement. Lance had appeared to relax a little by the time Gust returned. Lance took in everything with his inquisitive eyes, and there was no mistaking the relief in them when he spotted Gust.
Gust sat next to him and gave him an easy smile. “Things will quiet down when someone stands up to either recite a story or sing a song. Once the sun disappears, our real entertainment should start.”
Lance perked up with excitement and Gust chuckled.
It was as he said. After one of the serving women set down their plates of food and tankards of ale, a tall, broad woman stood up and started singing without warning. Several patrons produced instruments and easily took up the melody.
When the ale was freely flowing, several people took up the call to hear about Gust and the bear. Lance looked startled, and Gust patted his shoulder, not surprised at all that everyone heard about it but no one knew the details.
“Leave it to me,” he said softly. Then he stood and lifted his tankard. “You all want to hear a beast tale, do you?”
Everyone roared in encouragement. Gust grinned. While the memories of that attack still haunted him, he could separate himself from it just enough to entertain his friends and neighbors. He set his hand on Lance’s good shoulder and freely exaggerated the tale past all believability. Lance now fought the bear with his bare hands, and he added a second bear to spice things up and proclaimed that he shot arrows from Brutus’s back to disable them. No one cared that it wasn’t the truth. That wasn’t the point.
Gust noticed a visiting minstrel scribbling madly on parchment and resisted a laugh. This was good. He frequently glanced at Lance to find him looking bemused. Gust merely shrugged and finally ended the tale the same way it did in real life. Lance protected Gust, and Brutus saved the day. Cheers and hollers echoed in the tavern when he sat down, grinning wide.
“That’s not what happened,” Lance murmured.
Gust laughed and gave him a one-armed hug. “No one cares. They wanted a good story, and I gave them one. Now you’re a hero.”
Lance blushed and stared at the table. “Brutus is the hero.”
“No doubt.”
Then the owner’s mother, the matron of the tavern, and fully-trained minstrel, stood up and told a story they all knew and everyone loved. The owner, Heb, was one of the youngest council members. He’d taken over his father’s seat after he’d died, and no one saw the need to vote him out. Heb smiled at his mother, continuing to serve ale while keeping her in his sights.
“The Nifdem Empire has not always been what we know today.”
And with that one line, the festival’s story-telling circuit had truly started. Despite her speaking in Coptin, Lance leaned forward, staring with such intensity, Gust wondered if he’d recognized the word “Nifdem.” Since Lance had never heard about divine words, Gust wouldn’t be surprised if his history knowledge was lacking as well. He set his arm across Lance’s shoulders and leaned close to quietly interpret the words into Taris.
“Once the kingdoms were divided. The sea was vast, separating them for miles. Cairon could not see the others, so far past the horizon were they. The same with Swenen and the many islands of Grekenus. Tribes and savagery flourished, war and brutality a daily, monthly, yearly occurrence. The gods despaired. They were given tribute, yes, and yet it was not from love but fear. It was not from order but chaos. Snet ruled in those times. And though the other kingdoms had different gods, they all agree that this was the time of chaos where brother turned against brother and sister connived against sister.”
Not much has changed. Gust kept his thoughts to himself. Grekenus was a prime example of what happened when chaos was allowed to rein. He couldn’t fathom why the civil war hadn’t been extinguished before now. It had been raging for generations already and harsher in recent years. It had even begun to spill over their borders.
“It was during this time that great Ysys felt the pain of her people. She wept bitter tears and grieved for their losses and agony. Her husband Osys, also grieved. His hall kept growing, the dead outnumbering the living. Anknet, the two-faced gatekeeper, urged her superiors to do something. Hoksys, the son of Ysys and Osys, could not defeat his uncle Snet and grew weaker each passing year. Ysys knew what she must do. The gods could not directly interfere in the affairs of mortals. That would tip the scales and unbalance creation itself. So Ysys devised a plan. Though she loved Osys dearly, she must betray him once with a mortal man. And that man gave her a child. A daughter. A demi-goddess she named Net.”
As one, the entire tavern raised their tankards in tribute to Net.
“Net was of the mortal world as well as the divine. She had her mother’s wisdom and compassion, and her father’s stubbornness and determination. She grew quickly, witnessing atrocities no child should behold. Her father protected her, for he was a proud man and knew the honor of mating with the supreme goddess of life. He taught Net and loved her.
“Then he was killed. Murdered by his own brother. Despite being still a child, she knew what she must do. Her mother spoke to her in her dreams. She had the power of a god and the life of a mortal. She knew her purpose and embraced it. She must unite what was broken. She did great feats that proved her divinity. She had her uncle banished and took over the chiefhood of her tribe. This young girl commanded the largest and most deadly tribe in Cairon.
“All tribes rallied behind her, uniting behind her banner. She began establishing order. She began encouraging trust and loyalty. Her people saw her as a living god, one sent to save them and lead them to victory. She commanded them with her compassion and will. They marched north to the very edge of their land. Then she bid them watch as she commanded the earth and rock and seas to bow to her will. To their great astonishment, the land moved. The seas flowed out and before their eyes, other lands became visible. Hurtling toward them at such speeds to be impossible. Many fainted away, unable to comprehend the majesty of Net.
“Then Swenen and Cairon slammed into each other, merging into one land. Mountains rose up where they collided, and we call them The Stitches. Then Grekenus swept forward, the larger land mass along with the smaller islands. But in this she chose differently. Instead of stitching the west to the north and south, she created a great river, The Vein, the life’s blood of fishing, pearl-diving, and the mining of the rare seer stones.
“All beheld her in wonder and awful silence. This girl had united the separated, and all people, from north to south to west, fell on their knees and worshipped her, a living god. Their living god. She ruled with compassion and unity, battling back the discord of Snet. Hoksys named himself her guardian, her patron, and so became the patron of all emperors and empresses since. Net took herself a husband and had five children. Her eldest son she named her heir. He was of her temperament and sought to keep united what Snet continually tries to pull apart.
“Now, the other kingdoms, they have other names for her. Demmi they call her in Grekenus and Sif in Swenen. But we shall always know her as Net. And it was from those names that we get our great empire’s name. She is our identity and we must emulate her in all ways. Though she is dead now, descended to the underworld to sit at Osys’s right hand, we shall always know her as our living god. Our savior.
“To Net!”
“To Net!” Everyone shouted before gulping down ale. Cheers and applause followed the ending of the story. The matron bowed, grinning and flushed with triumph.
Lance was the only one not to participate in the toasting, his expression pensive.
“Good story, right?” Gust asked.
Lance jerked as if coming awake. “Yes.” Then he yawned.
Gust smirked and squeezed his shoulder. “Not just yet my friend. We have more to do.”
They left the tavern. Lanterns offered light from either poles stuck in the ground or hanging from ropes tied between buildings. Gust led them to the market square and played a few of the games while Lance watched. He didn’t seem intent on participating. Gust hoped he’d loosen up in the days to come. The festival would last four days, plenty of time for Lance to get comfortable. Gust tossed horseshoes, threw pebbles at paper targets, and won fun little prizes. Lance certainly smiled and appeared to enjoy himself, at least.
Then came the next story of Cairon. Gust took Lance’s hand and led him over to a large crowd in a shadowing corner of the square. A small fire burned, throwing flickering shadows on the wall behind the minstrel. It was purposeful, to add some atmosphere.
They stood this time and once again, Gust interpreted Coptin into Taris. Lance leaned his head down to better hear him.
“Ausar was the eldest child of Net, and her heir. He was mighty and proud and followed in his mother’s footsteps. He fought as she had fought, against the chaos of Snet. With the kingdoms now joined in a mighty empire, he had great work and challenges ahead. He must keep the peace and continue to forge greatness. This was made all the more difficult by Snet’s interference. He continued to tempt and seduce and persuade those in Ausar’s court to betray and connive and deceive. They let greed into their hearts and some even dared to fight against Ausar’s right to rule. They claimed that Net did not name him as heir.”
The minstrel shook his head. His voice was deep and hypnotic, and it was all Gust could do to continue speaking when he simply wanted to listen. Despite hearing the story since childhood, it never lost its power. Thankfully, they were in the back and didn’t disturb the other listeners. Lance still had a hold of Gust’s hand and squeezed it gently as the story continued.
“Then rumors reached Ausar about a beast inhabiting The Vein. The beast had disrupted fishing and diving, and too many people had lost their lives to its deadly appetite. Knowing it was his responsibility to safeguard his empire, he left his younger brother in charge and journeyed to The Vein. There he waited and watched. At first he wondered if they were mere rumors.”
The minstrel paused. Then he took something from a pouch hanging from his belt and flung it into the fire. The flames erupted violently, causing everyone to jolt.
“Then a massive beast rose from the churning water below!” the minstrel cried, raising his voice. The shadows behind him morphed and shifted into a giant multi-headed snake with a small man standing before it. It was a subtle bit of illusionary magic that Gust had seen before. He still smiled in excitement, however. Lance was squeezing his hand a bit harder than necessary, unable to anticipate the change in intensity.
As the minstrel continued his story, the shadows changed with his words, illustrating a fantastical replay of the event.
“A multi-headed monstrosity of Snet and Mawn rose before mighty Ausar. The snake beast hissed a hundred hisses and flashed hundreds of eyes with anger and hunger. Black as the bowels of the underworld did this beast appear, with spines of venom trailing down its back. Sent to destroy what Net had united, the ferocious Appep attacked Ausar. If Net’s heir was defeated and the snake live, all hope for unity would crumple into dust, and so would Ysys’s hope for humanity.
“Ausar drew his sword and attacked. Fearless and brave, Net’s son sliced the creature of Snet, unwilling to accept defeat. Unwilling to give into fear.”
The shadows fought behind the minstrel, giving power to his words. He spoke of the battle, the ferocity of it, emphasizing that life itself hung in the balance as the combatants danced around the cliffside.
“Then Ausar saw an opportunity and took it. He gave a mighty leap and plunged his sword into Appep’s heart. The serpent hissed a hundred hisses of agony before slipping off the land and falling into The Vein below. Ausar watched his foe fall, heaving with breath and dying from wounds burning with venom. He’d known the moment he saw Appep that he would be sacrificing his life for his people. Aye, he was Net’s heir, and yet his reign would be short and no less powerful for it. He called out to his mother and to Ysys before he collapsed, dead. Net came herself to retrieve his spirit while Ysys visited Ausar’s brother, the one he left in charge. In a dream, she showed him the sacrifice of his brother and named him emperor.
“Snet was never able to create such a creature again. And though he continues to influence and pervert the good and just among us, his power is a trifling compared to the majesty of Ysys, Osys, and Hoksys. And that of Net, our mother.”
Applause followed and the minstrel bowed grandly. Coins rattled as everyone offered tokens of appreciation, tossing them into his flamboyant, floppy, and frilly hat.
“Did you like it?” Gust asked as they moved away from the crowd.
“Aye. Is Appep why the festival is named after snakes?”
Gust nodded. “It’s our way of celebrating and honoring Ausar, Net, and all the rest of our ancestors who secured our kingdom and the empire as a whole. It’s also a way to praise the gods. The temple receives the most offerings during these few days than it does all year. Which reminds me, Kissa wanted me to deliver a bushel of fruit to them.” Gust sighed. “I’ll do it tomorrow. Don’t let me forget.”
“I won’t.” Lance appeared pensive about something.
“What’s on your mind?”
“The bard that taught me how to read and write mentioned something about stories symbolizing greater things. I mean, the snake isn’t just a snake, is it?”
Gust smiled. “No. I’m sure some believe Appep and Ausar actually fought to the death centuries ago, but I rather suspect that Appep represented the continued chaos that the fledgling empire had to face. Think about it. Multi-headed animals often represent the multiple branches of conspiracy or treachery.”
Lance nodded.
“And the fact that Ausar also died, well, I suppose symbolizes great sacrifice on the part of a just ruler. I don’t know for sure, I’m not a minstrel or bard.”
As they reached the dancefloor, another song was about to be taken up. Gust turned to Lance and almost asked if he wanted to learn the dance. Unfortunately, Kissa beckoned to Gust to join her for the dance. Ally also came up at the same time to talk to Lance.
“Let’s test your knife throwing skills,” she said.
“I—”
“Go on.” Gust patted his shoulder. “Have some fun.” He took Kissa’s hand and they joined the line of dancers. Gust knew the steps well and managed to catch a glimpse of Lance as he progressed down the line and the musicians continued the lively jig.
It didn’t surprise him at all to find that Lance was handy with throwing knives. He hit the center of the target with all five daggers. Ally grinned from ear to ear while a few onlookers appeared shocked and distressed.
Gust was slightly out of breath as the dance ended. He bowed and Kissa curtsied. She talked him into another one. Only by complaining of his sore legs did he avoid a third. Kissa gently teased him before dragging Seth into the next dance. Chuckling, Gust stepped off the dancefloor. Right into Lukman. Gust took a step back and inclined his head respectfully. Lukman’s eyes flashed with anger.
“Gustum,” he said stiffly. “I can’t say that I’m pleased to see you. Especially with such ill-suited company.”
Gust swallowed indignation and kept his tone calm. “With due respect, Elder Lukman, the company I keep is no concern of yours.”
Lukman’s lips pursed. “What you say is true. After you used my son so wretchedly and then rejected him, I have no longer any concern what you do with your time.”
“I never used your son, as you are well aware, and I only rejected him after I decided his company was no longer a pleasure to me. Dakar has much to learn about being a man.”
“Do not dare to insult my son in my presence. Not after your patient nearly beat him to death.”
While they spoke in undertones, Gust knew those around them were straining to hear. Gossip and drama were as entertaining as the stories, games, and dancing of the festival.
“I meant no insult. I merely wanted to state a fact. And while I would never condone Lance’s behavior, your son had proven unwilling to listen to my words of disinterest. I do not wish him ill will and hope he grows in understanding and strength. Excuse me.”
With a pounding heart, he ducked away even as Lukman opened his mouth. Gust wove through the crowd, determined to get away. He walked around the edges of the dancefloor and spotted Lance not far from him. Lance eyed the dancefloor with a pensive expression, sweeping his gaze around.
“Lance.”
Lance twitched before turning. Relief softened his features. Gust felt similar relief. He stepped to Lance’s side and gestured to the dancers.
“Interested?”
Lance shrugged slightly.
“Are you in pain?” He should have thought of that before.
Lance shook his head. It was then that Gust realized Lance held something in his hand.
“Did you win a prize?”
Lance lifted his hand and opened his fist. Sitting on his palm was a small, neatly carved bear.
Gust grinned. “Fitting.”
Lance stared at the bear for a moment before holding it out to Gust. “You take it.”
Gust raised his hands and shook his head. “No. You earned it.”
“Please take it.”
“Lance, it belongs to you.”
“Please, Gust. I want you to have it.”
The plea in his eyes and his voice crumbled Gust’s resolve. “If you insist….”
Lance beamed and Gust was taken aback by the sudden smile. He held out his hand and Lance placed the small bear on his palm. Gust slipped the bear into his pocket as Lance yawned again.
“We can retire for the night. Anticipate more stories and games tomorrow.”
Gust let his aunt know that he and Lance were heading back to the healing hut. Gust had seen Dakar among the crowd, and he appeared to have enough sense to stay away. He’d glared at Gust and Lance while keeping his distance. Gust wished Lukman would.
“See you tomorrow,” Gust said before he separated from Lance.
“Sleep well, Gust.”
Gust woke with a cry on his lips. He struggled to sit up in bed, sweating and darting his gaze around his empty, dark room. Gods help him, what a messed-up dream. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. He hadn’t experienced anything that visceral in over a year. Apparently, that bear attack had affected him even deeper than he first suspected. The bear was now rampaging through the village where he’d found his parents’ bodies. The sight and scent of the massacre tightened his gut. He would never shake loose from them.
He took a deep breath and picked up the small wooden bear sitting on his bedside table. It was a cute little trinket, and it still touched him that Lance wanted him to have it. After two full days of the festival, between them they had won a number of small prizes. Lance had kept the rest of his, including a well-crafted dagger and a pair of leather vambraces made by Ally. He had no problem winning games and contests that dealt with implements of battle. Gust was good at the tossing games. He’d yet to get Lance to dance, and yet he hoped to accomplish it before the festival was over. At least one of the slow dances to protect Lance’s wound. He’d removed the stitches before they retired the night before, and yet the skin was still tender and raw.
Gust smiled in memory of Lance’s delight as he finally started to relax and enjoy himself. Despite the exhaustion of late nights and early mornings, Gust had never had so much fun at the festival before, and he knew the reason. Which was why the dream had caught him off guard.
It was still dark outside and he was wide awake. He set the bear down and changed his sleeping tunic, the original damp from his sweat. Without questioning his impulse, he padded out of his room. He checked on two patients residing with them, victims of overindulgence and bad choices, before peeking into Lance’s room. He almost laughed.
Lance had said the bed was too soft. Now he lay on the floor, fully dressed except for his sandals, and the blanket was bunched around his waist and tangled around his legs. The windows were wide open but no Brutus could be seen or heard.
Foolish, silly man. At least it was a warm night.
With a quiet sigh, Gust knelt and attempted to untangle the blanket so he could cover Lane completely. Before he could do more than tug at a corner, Lance’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist in a vice-like grip that bruised. Gust winced and shot his gaze to Lance’s face. Lance’s expression was nothing he’d ever seen before. Cold and deadly, Lance glared at him for a split second before relaxing and letting him go. He collapsed back on the floor and grunted.
“Gust? What are you doing?”
Gust rubbed his wrist, confused and a little worried. Sure, he’d watched Lance take on Dakar without breaking a sweat, and yet the rest of the time he was so docile and gentle. Despite hearing about Lance’s childhood, and seeing how well he handled weapons at the festival, Gust hadn’t fully understood the implications of Lance being a warrior until now. Maybe he was the foolish and silly man.
“I just came to check on you and saw your blanket all tangled.”
Lance blinked down and grunted again. By working together, they untangled the blanket, and though Gust urged Lance to get on the bed, Lance stubbornly refused.
“Fine, if you won’t use it. I will.” With that, he rolled onto the bed and stared at the roof.
“You’re staying?”
“You don’t want me to?”
“No! I mean yes! I do. I’m happy you are here.”
Gust smiled at Lance’s flustering. His stomach had long-ago unknotted, and he thought he could get a bit more sleep now. Despite being worried about Lance’s reaction to being awakened, he wasn’t afraid. He was more aware of Lance’s other side but fear just wouldn’t come. Lance had never done anything to make him fear him.
“Sleep sweet, Lance.”
A faint, rusty chuckle sounded in the darkness. “Sleep sweet, Gust.”