THE ORANGE GLOW OF THE setting sun drifted through the canopy as they approached the edge of the forest near The Glade. They had walked through the night and straight through the next day. They were late; they should have been back in The Glade that morning. Calen's legs burned, struggling under the weight of exhaustion. His clothes were torn in more places than he could count, and his body was painted with enough cuts and bruises to last a lifetime. He wanted to sleep for days.
Up ahead of him, Dann trudged through the gradually thinning undergrowth. His bag dangled over his shoulder, stained red with dried blood. Rist lagged a bit behind. Calen had a feeling his leg was giving him a lot more trouble than he was letting on. "Nearly there now, Rist."
Rist's response came in short bursts, separated by sharp huffs of exertion.
"I'm not tired. Are you tired? I could keep going for days. I bet Dann is tired. Dann, are you tired?"
Dann chuckled up ahead. "Not long now, Rist."
Blisters had formed on Calen's feet at some point over the last few hours.
The grinding pain was a constant reminder as his feet rubbed against the inside of his boot. He grimaced and kept walking. I'm getting a new pair ofboots.
In the space of just a few minutes, the forest began to thin out. The ground regained a firm spring, and the heaviness in the air dissipated as the trees peeled away. When they emerged from the forest, the cool breeze that swept across Calen's face was almost enough to drag a smile out of him –
almost.
As soon as Rist was out of the forest, he collapsed in a heap on the ground, like a puppet whose strings were cut.
"Rist!" In a panic, Calen bounded over to where Rist lay motionless in the grass. When Calen reached him, he was lying on his back, staring up at the sky, a hazy grin on his face.
"I'm fine," he said with a satisfied sigh. Closing his eyes for a moment, he inhaled deeply and smiled from ear to ear. "I wasn't sure if we were ever going to make it out of that forsaken forest. It's nice to look up at the sky and not see branches and leaves."
Rist's focus waned for a second as he stared at his hands, covering every inch of them with an intense gaze. Relief poured through Calen. He allowed himself to collapse down beside Rist. They lay there for a minute, just staring up at the unobstructed blue sky.
"Are you two nearly done?" Dann said. "Because it looks like someone has noticed we're back."
Calen dragged himself into a seated position, looking out over the fields, squinting in the fading light from the sunset. A few hundred feet to the northwest, five horse riders were galloping towards them. As they drew closer, Calen could make out the riders. Leading the group were his father and Erdhardt, with Lasch, Tharn, and Jorvill Ehrnin galloping alongside them.
As the riders reached the young men, Vars slung his leg over the saddle and slid off the horse in one smooth motion. He crashed straight into Calen, embracing him so tightly that Calen thought he might actually break a rib.
"I thought maybe…" The words escaped Vars's mouth as nothing more than a hushed whisper.
Calen pulled his father into a tighter embrace, deciding the pain was worth it. "I'm okay."
Lasch and Tharn embraced Rist and Dann in a similar fashion. After they had all made their greetings, Erdhardt spoke up. "It is good to see you boys
– men – back safely. We feared the worst when the sun sank into the ocean, and you had not emerged from Ölm. The last of the groups arrived back hours ago." His eyes passed over Calen, Dann, and Rist one by one. Despite the scarcity of light, Calen knew he was taking in everything: the torn clothing, the cuts, the blood. They must have looked like they were half-dead. "What has happened?"
The boys all exchanged a look with each other, agreeing with a nod.
"The story might take a while," Calen said, unable to hide the hesitation in his voice.
"Take the time you need. The truth is what is important." Erdhardt folded his arms across his chest, a sombre look in his eyes.
Calen let a small sigh slip out before diving into the events of the last few days. He left out what had happened to the larger Urak. He didn't really know what had happened after all, but Rist had been acting funny since, despite what he had said. They didn't push as to how it actually died, and none of them noticed when Calen moved swiftly onward. The group of men
listened intently to Calen, exchanging a few looks between them from time to time. A gasp escaped Lasch's mouth when Calen told them how Fritz had shot Rist in the leg with the arrow.
Dann chimed in occasionally, mostly just to elaborate on his own feats of heroism, which received more than its fair share of glares from the men.
Rist, for the most part, stayed mute. His eyes appeared slightly glazed over, as if lost in deep thought.
When Calen finished, there was a brief silence. Just the chirping of crickets accompanied the pale moonlight as the twilight sky gave way to the night. Erdhardt spoke first. "Are you sure, Calen? Uraks haven't been seen here in at least two years, not since—"
Dann cut him short by thrusting the bag into his arms, a little more forcefully than would usually be considered respectful. Erdhardt did not chastise him. He simply opened the bag and took a long look at its contents.
His face twisted into a resigned frown. He passed the bag back to Vars, who had much the same reaction.
"Very well," Erdhardt finally said, unfolding his arms and nodding as if only to himself. "Join us on the horses and let us return to the square. The councils – and everyone else – will be eager to hear what you have told us."
As the horses approached the tents in the market square, crowds formed around them, eager to hear whispers of what trouble they had run into that caused them to be so late. Calen noticed a few of the other young men that he had seen near the brazier on the first day. By the look in their eyes, they had already started celebrating the conclusion of The Proving.
Erdhardt led the group on horseback through the forming crowds and directly to the feast tent, where they dismounted.
Ferrin Kolm stood guard at the entrance. The warm smile on his freckled face turned to a look of concern as he spotted Calen and the others.
Erdhardt called him over as they approached. "Ferrin, please find Iwan Swett, Tarren Netley, and Jon Hildom for me. Ask that they make an audience with the council in this tent before the hour is out."
"Yes, Master Hammersmith, I will do now." Ferrin nodded, taking another worried look at Calen and the other boys.
"Thank you, Ferrin. Also, please ask them to bring their sons."
Ferrin tilted his head as if to question why, but he thought better of it and simply nodded before heading off into the crowd.
Satisfied, Erdhardt turned back towards the group. "Come, boys. Let's get you some food and water. Vars, would Freis be able to look at Rist's leg?"
Vars nodded. He paused to give Calen's arm a gentle squeeze before disappearing in the same direction as Ferrin.
"I think it best we go and let our families know the boys have returned safely. We do not want rumours reaching them first," Lasch said.
"Aye, you're right," Tharn said. "I believe they are over near the campfires, enjoying a song or two. We'd best head over and return swiftly."
With that, the two of them were gone, leaving only Jorvill and Erdhardt to lead the boys into the feast tent.
The tent was massive, easily a hundred feet long and nearly just as wide.
It seemed even larger inside than it was outside. The bone-white canvas of the tent was supported along the walls by massive wooden supports, with thick lengths of rope binding everything together in knots and loops. The bulk of the tent was taken up by rows of long wooden tables and benches.
Brilliant white sheets were draped across each table, contrasted by rich emerald-green cloths that marked where people should be seated.
Regardless of how tough the year had been, no expense was ever spared for The Proving.
According to Jorvill, the feasting had been postponed when the boys never returned that morning. At present, the only occupants of the tent were the villages' council members, who all sat at a long, elaborately-dressed table at the other end of the massive tent. The table itself had to be about twenty feet long, large enough to fit the councils of all seven villages. They were so engrossed in conversation that they didn't notice the tent's new occupants.
"You boys take a seat. We'll be back in a minute," Erdhardt said, gesturing for Jorvill to follow. It only took a few minutes before Erdhardt and Jorvill returned, carrying baskets full of bread, cheese, and meat. Three women followed behind them, carrying large tankards of mead and buckets of water. Erdhardt and Jorvill tossed the baskets onto the table. Dann caught a small roll of bread in mid-flight as it bounced free from the impact.
"Well, eat up. You must be starving," Erdhardt said. He accepted the tankard of mead one of the women offered him. "My thanks, Meera," he said with a short bow of his head. She gave him a polite smile and returned
his nod, then flitted away to carry out what was most likely a hundred other tasks before the feasting began.
They ate in silence, almost choking on their food as they shovelled it into their mouths like hungry dogs. Calen felt a pain in his stomach as he ate, but he couldn't stop himself from eating more. Food had been scarce on the return journey. They dared not stop too long in any one place for fear of losing too much time, and when they did, they were often too tired to think about much else, other than lying down.
Vars was the first to return, with Freis, Ella, and Faenir in tow. The wolfpine did not stand on ceremony; it dodged past Erdhardt and bounded towards Calen in one massive leap, knocking him clean off his chair. There was a warm rumble in his throat as he nuzzled his nose into Calen's chest.
"Faenir, get off—" Calen stopped short of finishing his sentence, instead wrapping his arms around Faenir and pulling him in tightly.
"Ahem."
Calen looked up to see his mother staring back down at him, unimpressed. He shoved Faenir aside, much to the wolfpine's disagreement.
Calen got to his feet, patting down his shirt with his hands as if he would somehow be able to brush away the dirt and blood stains. Freis looked him up and down, horror etched on her face at the sight of him. She pulled him into a fearsome hug. His ribs complained, but Calen didn't say a word. He just closed his eyes and welcomed the comforting embrace.
"I'm just glad you're okay," Freis said. She pulled out of the hug and gave him a loving smile. Her eye lingered for a moment, betraying a momentary flash of intense sadness. It was one that Calen knew well; the knowledge of loss, and the fear of its return. Puffing out her cheeks, Freis turned to Rist, to examine her new patient. "Now, I hear you got yourself into all manner of trouble out in that forest. Let me take a look."
Rist protested as Freis fussed over him, examining him from head to toe.
She turned back to Calen, her lip turned up in a half-smile. "You do listen."
She held up the strip of Rist's shirt that had been wrapped around his leg. It was slightly damp and mottled with the greyish-green poultice that Calen had made. Calen couldn't help but swell with pride. Of course, I do.
Ella nodded to Calen. "I'm happy you didn't die," she said, her tone flat.
Calen couldn't help but cough out a short laugh. Ella gave him a quick hug.
"I'm glad you are back."
"Me too. I didn't know you cared."
Ella gave Calen a sly wink before joining Freis in her inspection of Rist's wound.
Not long passed before Tharn and Lasch returned, with the rest of their families in tow. Elia and Ylinda directed glancing smiles at Calen as they rushed to fuss over their own children. Ferrin was the last to enter the tent, and with him came Iwan Swett, Tarren Netley, and Jon Hildom. Anger burned in Calen when Fritz, Kurtis, and Dennet crept in after them.
Calen didn't see Dann stand up. "You have some nerve coming in here after what you did. I'll put you down where you stand if you take one step further. I—"
Erdhardt raised his hand in the air. Even Dann knew that meant for him to shut up. "I will have none of that, young Master Pimm. They have been brought here in the interest of fairness. We cannot simply take your word on what has happened."
Dann's face was incredulous. "Our word? Rist has an arrow wound in his leg. Do you think he shot him—"
Erdhardt glared at Dann. "Sit down. Now."
Dann did as he was told. Erdhardt was a fair man with a warm heart, but even Dann's stray tongue knew its limits.
Erdhardt turned, opening his arms to the group. "Now, if you will all join me, there is a matter that we must discuss. I have asked the councils of all seven villages to hear this matter. I trust there is no disagreement with this?"
"Aye, I should think not," came a low but clear response from Tharn Pimm. Mumbles of agreement followed. A few muffled grumbles came from Iwan Swett, but he did not argue. Taking one last sweep across the group with his eyes, Erdhardt nodded and gestured for everyone to follow him. He made his way to the long table at the end of the tent.
The chattering from the village council members died away gradually as the group approached, turning to silence as soon as they noticed Calen, Dann, and Rist. The silence remained as Erdhardt and Jorvill made their way around the table and took their seats next to Verna Gritten. Calen couldn't help but think of how alike she and Anya looked. Were it not for the slight evidence of time's touch at the corner of her eyes and mouth, and the odd streak of grey in her hair, they could have been sisters.
As seemed to always be the way, it was Erdhardt who spoke first. "Now that we are all gathered here, Calen, can you please tell aloud what you told
us earlier, when we found you at the forest's edge?"
It took Calen a few seconds to realise that he was expected to speak next.
He was suddenly aware that every set of eyes around the table were now fixed keenly on him. He cleared his throat and took a step forward. Well,here goes nothing.
Once more, Calen recited the story of their time in Ölm Forest. Concern and anger flickered across people's faces. Kurtis and Dennet looked at their feet the whole time, not daring to raise their eyes. Calen thought he saw a grin on Fritz's face, but it was hard to tell from the corner of his eye.
A few unintelligible murmurs passed between some of the council members, which Calen tried to ignore. Anger was replaced by shock at the mention of the Uraks. Even the council members who had shown little interest until that point now sat to attention with perked ears. He once again left out how the larger Urak died, crediting its kill to Dann's arrow, to which Dann raised an amused eyebrow. Calen was short of breath when he finished. Relief flowed through him as he spoke the last words. Almost as if he were no longer there, the group broke out in a commotion, none of it aimed at Calen.
"Uraks, this close to the villages?"
"That can't be. We would have heard something by now," said a rat-faced man from Talin.
"One of the other groups would have seen them. This is ridiculous—"
"There will be order!" Erdhardt's voice filled the empty tent as he slammed his hand down on the wooden table. The squabbling council members were quick to quiet their tongues. He continued, "There are two things we must establish here. The first is the truth of the altercation between these two groups of young men. The second is to decide what our course of action is regarding this Urak sighting."
A thin man with greyish-white hair was the first to speak. Judging by his clothes, he was from the village of Pirn. The thick brown and cream cloth from which his shirt and trousers were cut was common there. "How, may I ask, are we even to be sure as to the truth of this sighting? It could simply be children making up stories. There hasn't been an Urak sighting in these parts for over two years."
Dann scowled. "Children?"
Erdhardt glared at Dann. His eyes were like steel. Dann turned his face to the floor like a chastised dog. Erdhardt pushed his chair back, got to his
feet, and lifted his other hand in the air. In it was Dann's drawstring bag, stained dark with dried blood. He turned the bag upside-down and dumped its contents onto the table, then sat, arms folded.
The group erupted in a frenzy of shouts and roars, mixed with yelps of shock as the Urak's head rolled along the table. It came to a stop in front of Kara Thain, the village elder from Erith. Calen remembered her speaking before The Proving. Her eyes were a piercing ice blue, stark against her dark brown hair, which was slightly greying and tied up in a ponytail. Her beauty was not lost behind her stern expression.
She was one of the few not contributing to the chaos. She was observing.
Her eyes flitted between the council members and the Urak's head, unblinking. But it was clear to Calen that behind those icy eyes, she was deep in thought.
"Well… are you lot done?" Erdhardt asked after the shouting had persisted for a touch too long.
"What is the meaning of this, Erdhardt?" demanded a slightly plump lady with oily skin and thinning blonde hair. A deep scowl was set on her face.
"The honesty of these young men was questioned," Erdhardt said. He did not attempt to hide the glare he directed at the thin man from Pirn. "Here is your proof that there were Uraks in Ölm Forest."
It was Jorvill who spoke next. "What are we to do, then? How are we to know how many more, if there are any—"
"There are more." Kara's voice was soft, but there was a firm undertone.
The council members paused to listen, as they did when Erdhardt spoke.
She exchanged glances with the two other members of the Erith Council, as if seeking their blessing before continuing. "Until now, we were not sure if the reports were true. They mostly came in from the likes of hunters and trappers, or the occasional peddler. However, over the past few weeks, the reports have increased in number, and now this." Kara wrapped her fingers around the rotting skull, holding it up in the air. "This is the first shred of solid proof we've seen." The council members exchanged a few murmurs.
Kara raised her voice a little, enough to quieten the chatter. "It could be nothing. There were only two, Calen?"
Calen nodded.
"Well," Kara continued, "we know there are Urak clans that call Wolfpine Ridge their home, this is not news to us. We haven't spotted any
since the attacks a few years ago, but that could simply be luck. We always knew that they would raid again, eventually."
"But you said the sightings have been increasing in number," said a man with a chest as thick as oak barrels. His arms were the width of Calen's head. His head was bald from front to back, and he had a number of brass rings in his ears and his nose, as was common among the seafaring folk of Salme.
"Yes, I did, Baren. And that is something we should keep an eye on. For now, in Erith, we will put the village guard on alert and perhaps look to erect a long-overdue palisade wall. To all those here who counsel villages along the base of Wolfpine Ridge, I would recommend you do the same."
"Aye, I believe this to be a sound course of action." Erdhardt folded his arms across his chest and nodded.
"Aye," the council elders of Milltown and Talin said.
"Although we lay not along the edge of Wolfpine Ridge, the villages are one. Our unity is our strength, and should you need it, the village of Ölm will come to your aid."
"As will Salme," said the barrel-chested sailor, Baren.
"And Pirn," said a small raven-haired woman with streaks of grey.
"Many thanks to you, friends. Your words warm my heart," Erdhardt said. "Now that is settled, we have the matter of the altercation between these two groups of young men."
"With all due respect, Hammersmith, both of these groups are of your village. It is an issue for The Glade, not an issue for this council," said the thin man from Pirn.
Erdhardt cocked an amused eyebrow. "Not an issue for this council? This happened in The Proving, a rite of passage for all in the villages." There was a rumble of agreement throughout the group. The thin man from Pirn folded his arms across his chest with an irritated grunt, but he did not argue.
Erdhardt nodded. "Okay. Kurtis, Fritz, Dennet. Tell us what happened."
"It was an accident," Fritz said, not waiting for the other two to speak. "I was aiming for the kat, but it was so dark."
Dann barely attempted to suppress a snort.
Ignoring Dann, Erdhardt raised a questioning eyebrow. "And can you explain why, instead of correcting your mistake and tending to the injury you caused, you instead pushed them farther into the forest? And stole the bear pelt?"
"They scared away the kat. That was our kill. We only took what was due to us! And we couldn't trust them to not try and take it back, sir. I did what I thought was smart." The silence that followed Fritz's words was only broken by the sound of Erdhardt's fingers drumming on the table.
"This is The Proving," Erdhardt said, lifting his gaze from the table. "It is meant to throw young boys into the harshest of environments on their own and show them what the world can be like, to forge them into men. To test their skill and their character. Sometimes, the honourable path is not easy, and the easy path is not honourable. This is a lesson that must be learned –
and I think it has been. From the point of view of this council, I do not feel any further action needs to be taken. If you will all agree, I believe this to be settled."
There was a quick haze of chatter before a chorus of "Aye" was heard from all members of the council. Calen felt a flare of anger when he saw the smirk spreading across Fritz's face.
"We are settled, then," said the barrel-chested man from Salme, as he rose from his seat.
"No," Erdhardt said. "In the view of this council, the matter is settled, but from the view of The Glade—" Erdhardt looked between Jorvill and Verna, who both nodded. "This is not over. For tonight, we will celebrate The Proving." Erdhardt's eyes locked on Fritz, Kurtis, and Dennet. "Tomorrow, we will revisit this."
Kurtis and Dennet nodded, only lifting their eyes from the ground momentarily. Fritz, however, protested. "That is not fair! You said it yourself. This is The Proving—"
"Shut your mouth, boy," Tarren Netly, Fritz's father, said while giving him a firm slap across the back of the head. "You'll be lucky not to get a lashing."
Tarren was a tall man with a grizzled beard and a stern jaw. He was not known for his soft touch. Calen couldn't help but feel sorry for Fritz. Tarren had seemed to become even colder when Fritz's two brothers died. They died with Haem, pushing the Uraks back through Ölm and into Wolfpine ridge. In a different world, it might have brought Fritz and Calen together.
But that world was not this one.
Erdhardt eyed Tarren and Fritz with a grim look as he pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. "I will send word that the feasting is to begin shortly and that the victors of The Hunt are to be announced. All of you
who took part in The Proving, we will give you an hour to clean yourselves up and prepare for the feast."
A few filthy looks were exchanged between the two groups of young men as they made their way out of the tent, but no words. None were silly enough to risk incurring Erdhardt's wrath.
"Do you want me to go back with you?" Vars asked as they stepped out into the brisk night air.
"No, that's okay. You all should stay. Start your celebrations. I can go clean up by myself," Calen said with a weak smile. He did not want Freis and Vars fussing over him, and he could do with at least a few minutes on his own. If he could survive The Proving, then he could survive the walk home.
"Don't be too long," Freis said, cupping her hands on either side of Calen's face and placing a kiss on his forehead. "I've left some clothes out for you."
"I won't. I'll be back as soon as I'm ready – and thank you." Calen turned to Dann and Rist, "I'll see you two in about an hour?"
"You think I'll miss the opportunity to get some free mead? I'll need it after what those idiots got away with," Dann said, a scowl on his face.
"They didn't get away with anything, Dann," Rist said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Have you ever known Erdhardt to let anyone get away with anything? He said he will revisit it tomorrow. For tonight, can we just get drunk?"
"Agreed," Dann and Calen said together.
Calen felt a sense of relief as he stepped into his room, collapsing onto his bed with a sigh. He lay there for a few minutes, allowing his aching body to sink into his mattress. If it were up to him, he would have lain there all night. If it were up to him.
With a sigh, he dragged himself to his feet, scrubbed the dried dirt and blood from his skin, and began to dress in the clothes his mother had laid out. The trousers were a simple pale brown, secured at the waist with dark wooden buttons. The shirt was a pearlescent white, the front opening coming down to his collarbone. Finally, he pulled on a warm coat before stepping out into the chilly night air.
The feast tent was an entirely different spectacle upon Calen's return. It was a cacophony of sound. Every table was packed from one end to the
other. Serving girls glided between drunken revellers, ducking and diving under flailing arms, somehow never spilling a drop of mead or dropping a morsel of food. The cheery mead-induced conversations warmed Calen's ears. If he could go the rest of his life without hearing the incessant noises of insects, he would be the happiest man alive.
Music blended with the din of merriment. Travelling bards ambled about between the tables, carrying lutes, harps, or the occasional flute. Their garb was as flamboyant as Calen had come to expect. Wildly ornate coats accented vibrant shirts and trousers, each one more extravagant than the last. Some wore wide-brimmed hats with feathers of all shapes and sizes pluming from the top. Others had beards that draped as low as their waistline, twisted in plaits and coloured with dyes.
"Come on, then. Let's get some food in our bellies," Dann said, appearing beside Calen. "Oh, and some mead." He clapped one hand down on Calen's shoulder; his other hand snatched a tankard of mead from the tray of a passing serving girl. Nothing ever seemed to faze Dann. No matter what happened, he was always back to himself before anyone could tell any different.
"For once, I'm with Dann," Rist said, emerging from behind the flap of the tent, a stiff limp in his walk. He looked like a different man after cleaning the matted dirt and dust from his face.
Calen laughed and nodded in approval. His body ached, and exhaustion still held him firmly in its grasp, but the scene before him gave him a renewed feeling of vigour.
"You clean up well."
Anya was beautiful. Her ember hair rolled down the side of her face. It was striking against her flowing green dress, decorated in a white floral pattern. The scent of honeysuckle drifted through the air around her.
Calen's voice caught in his throat. He wanted to reply, "So do you," but his lips wouldn't listen to his brain. He couldn't help but be angry with himself. He had just faced a bear and two Uraks, yet he couldn't bring himself to speak when Anya stood in front of him.
"Come on, lover boy. We have to get to our table," Dann said, wrapping his arm around Calen's shoulder. Calen wanted to give him a swift elbow to the ribs, and he would have done if he hadn't seen Anya blush.
"Dance with me later?" As soon as the words left Calen's mouth, his heart sank into his stomach. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow
him whole.
"Find me after we eat," Anya said. The dimples on either side of her mouth creased as she smiled. Calen felt like leaping into the air. His heart raced as Dann turned him around and walked him into the crowd.
"Smooth," Dann said.
They caught up with Rist and made their way through the chaotic celebrations, over to the table where their families sat. When they arrived, Vars stood up and pulled Calen into a tight hug. He stepped back for a second and gripped Calen by both shoulders, beaming at him.
"My boy… You will always be my boy." Vars's eyes gleamed. "Come on
– I'm sure you're starving."
"And thirsty!" Tharn Pimm extended a tankard of mead, placing it almost forcefully in Calen's hand. Calen couldn't stop his smile from spreading ear to ear as he looked around the table. The Havels, the Pimms, his mother and father, Ella. Family.
He joined Dann and Rist at the table, grabbing greedily at the wide assortment of food that was laid out in front of him. Even after eating earlier, his stomach still rumbled. The hours passed as they all ate and drank, telling stories and tales of days long gone. It was a welcome change from the cold nights in the forest.
Vars was deep in a story about when he and Lasch were young and stole a chicken from Old Master Pimm's coop when Dann leaned in close enough so only Calen could hear, and whispered, "You think maybe, you might have somewhere to be?"
"What do you… oh." A nervous knot twisted in Calen's stomach as he remembered his conversation with Anya. "She probably doesn't even—"
"Get out of that seat right now and go find Anya." A grin crept across Dann's face as he grabbed Calen's hand and looked him dead in the eye.
"You got this – now go."
Calen took a deep breath inwards, steeling himself. "I got this." I do nothave this. He saw Rist nod at him as he stood up, a knowing smile on his face.
Calen tentatively pushed his way through the throng of people that filled the feast tent. Everywhere he looked, people danced and sang, and in every corner of the tent, bards played a different song. How was he meant to find Anya in this madness?
He recoiled as a chill shot up his right arm. "Fuck sake," he said, feeling the damp patch on the sleeve of his shirt. "You just have to get it in your mouth—"
"Looking for me?" The sweet scent of honeysuckle hit Calen before he heard the words. Anya stood in front of him, her hands clutching at the corners of her green floral dress. Calen's voice caught in his throat at the sight of her. Gods damn it. Say something. "Ehm… I was." Say somethingbetter. "I hope you came looking for that dance." Anya raised an eyebrow as she gave Calen a cheeky smile. Her freckles always stood out when she smiled like that. "There's a bard over there," she said, nodding her head towards the other side of the tent, "apparently her music is beautiful, if you wanted to…"
"Let's go!" Calen said, jumping at the opportunity before she changed her mind. "Lead the way."
Calen couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face – or the shiver from running through his body when Anya took his hand. For some reason, pushing through the crowd again didn't irritate Calen the way it had before. They didn't speak as they made their way over to the other side of the tent. But that suited Calen just fine – he had no idea what to say.
The closer they got to where Anya had pointed out, the more the crowd thinned, and the soft, melodic sound of a woman singing drifted into Calen's ears. He couldn't make out the words, but her voice was mesmerising. A rapturous applause broke out just as they reached the edge of the crowd that stood around the bard.
"She is beautiful," Anya whispered.
The woman sat on the edge of a long table with a lute in her hand, one foot rested on the cross-leg of a chair, and the other on the ground. Her skin was a dark chestnut brown, like the petals of the Dalya flowers that Calen had seen in the window of Anya's home. Her short-cropped hair was as dark as jet, and two dimples held up the edges of her smile. She wore sturdy leather riding boots, and a long purple dress pulled in at the waist by a thin leather belt. It seemed an odd combination to Calen.
Anya was right – she was beautiful.
But Calen knew better than to say that out loud. His father had warned him of that once, when they were drinking in The Gilded Dragon. A womancan call another woman beautiful, but you can never agree.
"Thank you," the woman said, giving a slight bow at the waist. "For those of you who have just arrived, my name is Belina Louna. I hail from the western lands of Narvona, and I am privileged to be passing through your village tonight. Now, would you like to hear a traditional Narvonan love song?"
A chorus of cheers broke out at the suggestion. But Calen thought he saw the woman smiling at him and Anya as she spoke.
"Okay, so we call this one, On Summer Nights. "
The melody that came from the woman's lute was slow and sweet. Calen could still hear the rumbling of the louder, more up-tempo music coming from other spots inside the feast tent, but they drifted into the back of his mind when she started to sing.
"On summer nights, when the moon paints the sky,On summer nights, when your touch is all I know.
When the stars shimmer in the sea up high,
And the warmth of your love holds me close…"
The touch of Anya's hand broke Calen's concentration. "Dance with me?"
As if by magic, Calen's heart hammered against his chest, and he could have sworn that his forehead was slick with sweat. He nodded, unable to speak. He tried his best to smile as he took Anya's hand and moved into the open space in front of the bard. How do you dance? Anya reached out and took both of Calen's hands into her own. The light from the candles flickered across her freckled cheeks. Before he knew it, they were moving. Calen followed Anya. He had danced before, but not with a woman – not like this. It wasn't as hard as he thought it would be.
All he had to do was follow her feet. How did she know how to dance so well?
Calen blushed when he realised that he had been following Anya's feet so closely that he hardly looked at her face. She giggled at him, letting her head rest on his chest, which only caused his heart to beat faster. It felt nice, though – comforting. He forced his mind to relax. They swayed back and forth, their feet drifting with the music.
"On summer nights, I will hold on to your memory.
When the air is warm, I will sit beneath the old Oak tree.
For your arms, I will yearn, for your voice I will hope.
We will be side by side, again my love, on summer nights."
The crowd clapped and cheered as the lute played out the end of the song. Reluctantly, Calen lifted his head to find that five other couples had joined them in dancing. He felt Anya's head lift off his chest. No, pleasestay there.
Her green eyes glistened as she looked up at him. "That was… lovely."
"It was…"
All other sounds capitulated to the methodical beating of Calen's heart as he held Anya's gaze. It seemed as if time stood still.
"There you are!" Calen nearly leapt out of his skin as Dann clapped his hand down across his back. "Your dad said to come and get you. They're about to announce the victors of The Hunt and… shit." He muttered the last part and mouthed the word "sorry" to Calen as his eyes fell on Anya.
Calen let out a heavy sigh. Dann always had the worst timing. Calen looked back to Anya. "I'm sorry, I have to—"
"It's okay," she said. The smile on her face let Calen know that she meant it. "I'll see you after they make the announcements. Go, go!"
Calen let his head hang back over his shoulders as he and Dann walked away from Anya. "You couldn't have waited, just a minute?"
"Yeah… I'll take that one. I probably could have."
A loud clanging noise rang out through the tent as they sat back down at the table with their families. Erdhardt stood at his table, knocking a spoon off a steel tankard. The ringing resonated through the tent with surprising volume. "It is with great pride that we look out over these tables tonight.
Our boys have become young men." He paused for a second as his eyes swept through the tent. "Everyone that entered Ölm has returned to us, some with a few more scars than when they entered." His voice dipped into a sombre tone. "But they have returned. That has not always been the case."
He raised his tankard in the air. "I ask you all to join me in a toast. To all the young men who have returned to us, and to those that never did. To the young men who have passed through The Proving, and to the young women who have nothing to prove."
A raucous cheer erupted all over the tent. Calen noticed a smug look on Ella's face as she raised her cup in celebration.
Erdhardt raised his tankard slightly higher, and Calen joined the rest of the crowd in following suit. Erdhardt repeated the blessings of the gods, as he did before they entered Ölm. "May The Mother embrace you and The Father protect you. May The Warrior guide your hand and The Maiden guide your mind. May The Smith keep your blade sharp and The Sailor see you to safe shores."
The words were echoed through the tent.
"And now it is time to announce the victors of The Hunt. Those young men who went above and beyond, those who stared fear in the eyes and did not blink. This year, The Proving has provided many a surprise and many a test. You have brought us the pelts of kats bigger than I have ever seen, and wolfpines and boars aplenty. It has truly been a year like no other. However, this year has brought us something that has not been seen before.
Something that has united all the councils in unanimous vote."
Each council member raised their tankards in the air in a note of agreement. The tension in the air was palpable as everyone sat in anticipation.
"A group of young men were driven through Ölm Forest, all the way to the foot of Wolfpine Ridge. They have proven themselves beyond their years, and I am proud to say that they hail from right here in The Glade."
Cheers and shouts erupted from the tables where villagers of The Glade were sitting. "They returned to us from the depths of Ölm Forest only a few hours ago. With them, they brought something that not one of us on this council expected to see – the head of an Urak."
Shock and disbelief spread through the crowd like a wave.
"Settle down, settle down. The councils have spoken at length with regard to the possible Urak threat, and we have a plan of action. For now, join us one more time in raising your cups in a toast to these three young men. Calen Bryer, Dann Pimm, and Rist Havel – victors of The Hunt."