Hatam-Ile, 17th of Ninthmoon 3045
The wistful thrum of kantele strings blended in with the rain, giving them a melancholic ring though the lyrics spoke of dance, drink and glee. Unlike the summer festival, the music had already started at dawn. The restlessness of anticipation was palpable everywhere, and the consuls had to work twice as hard to maintain their soldiers’ focus during practice. Venu had meadow flowers in her hair, and Ren’i was not surprised to see the Guards had all worn their civilian clothing underneath the half-plate armour. Even captain Hamr had woven a red ribbon in his hair, despite having zero intention of attending the festivities.
”We have always celebrated köyri even at Meril-An, your highness,” he responded to Ren’i’s questioning look, shrugging. ”It is a greater annual celebration to us than the return of Merenos.”
”You ought to take the day off in that case.”
The captain huffed. ”A soldier does not rest on his laurels. I’ll have a drink in your honour once we return victorious to Hol Saro.”
Ren’i simply decided to let the matter rest.
The camp was exceptionally empty after the afternoon downpour ended, and apart from the occasional guard there was no one in sight in the consul enclave. Though Ren’i had relieved the Guard of Honour of their duties for the festival week he still found someone waiting for him as he exited his tent wearing his best, an ornamental leather belt around his waist. Sava, Yurau and Linnee were all in their whites as they bowed respectfully. They followed him in formation, matching their steps to Ren’i’s.
”There was no need for you to wait for me,” Ren’i said as they trudged past the rows and rows of tents and muddied their freshly polished boots. ”I doubt anything will be threatening me on the way there.”
”Besides the captain’s critical eye, you mean,” Sava said dryly. The others smiled.
”None of us are ever safe from it, I think.”
Sava glanced at him. They looked hesitant. ”Your highness… I am not sure whether it’s quite proper, but may I speak to you directly about a certain personal matter?”
Ren’i smiled. ”Each and everyone of you has served me ever since I was made commander-in-chief. I believe you’ve earned the right a hundredfold after everything we’ve gone through together.”
Sava was quiet for a moment. ”You have the right to enjoy your privacy too. We will take care of the captain and the consuls should you wish to be alone for some time.”
It was Ren’i’s turn to look puzzled.
”They’re trying to say that we’ll back you up should you want to keep your secret to yourself,” Linnee continued for Sava. She had been more sombre than usual after the events in Liqaria, training harder than was her custom. She stood on guard by Ren’i’s tent so often that he had started suspecting she was taking more shifts than she was allowed. ”If it’s privacy you desire, we’ll ensure that you get to slip away unnoticed, and that you remain undisturbed for as long as you want.”
They had stopped on top of the hill. There was a direct view of the city from the cobble-stone laden path leading towards Hatam-Ile. Behind the half-collapsed stone fences were odd houses here and there with their now flourishing gardens, and the sounds of chatter and music wafted out of open windows. All three were regarding Ren’i with serious eyes.
They knew, of that he was certain.
It came as no shock: keeping secrets in the military was almost as impossible as it was in the palace. Their readiness to honour his secret, however, touched Ren’i deeper than he was willing to admit.
He brought a fist to his chest and said, ”I would greatly appreciate it. I may have to rely on your help already tonight, circumstances allowing.”
”We’ll keep our eyes open, your highness,” Sava promised. All three bowed as one.
Sooner or later his secret would come out in the open, but if possible, Ren’i would choose the time and the place himself.
The audience cheered as Vannuil drew the bow and loosed her arrow within a single short heartbeat, never taking her eyes off the target for a second. Her expression was as tranquil as Hawk’s, who stood two spots away from her. They knew the consul by her reputation even all the way in the Hytherlands. Even on a normal year the archery competition tended to attract many viewers, but the news that a legendary demon warrior would participate in the master league had packed the seats to a bursting point.
”Numbers 6 and 8 are out!” the judge’s voice shouted. Two competitors, a pale akheri youth and a soldier bearing the Meril-An coat of arms in their tattoo, took off their quivers and left the line. They joined the previously eliminated participants on the bottom row of the seats.
The expressionless demon woman was a phenomenal archer, Hawk admitted as much. He stole a glance her way while the judges pulled used arrows off the targets and shifted them two metres farther from the competitors. Assistants dashed among them, replacing empty quivers.
Vannuil attracted more attention than her rivals, and no wonder. She was a frightening sight even for a demon. Hair as white as freshly fallen snow, eyes almost as pale. Only the way her pupils had narrowed indicated that she was concentrating. She didn’t even appear to be breathing.
”Round five,” the judge announced once the assistants had all returned to the seats. ”Ready! Set… Now!”
The tumult of the audience faded away and lost all meaning the second Hawk pulled an arrow from the quiver. He did not think. The movements came from flesh memory, so automatically that he knew he’d hit the target the moment he sent the arrow flying. One arrow, a second, a third. Noises of the surrounding world came back in a rush after he’d fired all six arrows allotted for the round, and as the judges began counting their points Hawk’s eyes found Ren’i’s face on the other edge of the square. Ren’i was clapping along with the others, smiling like they were the only two people in the world, and all of a sudden Hawk felt much taller than he was.
The competition got more even and more demanding as competitors got eliminated. Adrenaline rushed in Hawk’s ears, forcing all else off his mind. The targets were moved further back after each round. With every round someone was eliminated as hits to the inner rings became harder and harder to achieve, and the akheri bow was exchanged for the Kishan longbow. Finally, only Hawk and Vannuil were left. They glanced at each other simultaneously when the targets were moved for one last time, as though measuring their opponent’s worth with their eyes. The consul lacked an akheri’s vision, but she had centuries’ worth of experience and the focus of a professional soldier. She was no easy opponent.
Ren’i found himself holding his breath as he watched. He’d seen Hawk behind the bow many times before, but it was still a sight to behold. He disappeared into his own little world, hardly even noticing the other combatants around him when he concentrated.
”Competitors at the ready,” the judge yelled over the howling and stomping of the audience. He was forced to raise his voice, for the tension was sky high with the final round taking place between an akheri and a taivashi. ”Ten arrows will be shot during the final round. Only hits count for points; speed is not taken into account.”
Both archers nodded. Hawk rolled his shoulders once and adjusted his stance. The same Kishan bow with which he’d struggled earlier now yielded to him just the same as his familiar akheri-style shortbow, his shots just as flawless. His grip was firm, his arms controlled yet relaxed, and Ren’i’s hands balled into fists with nerves.
”At your posts,” the judge shouted. Hawk and Vannuil corrected their postures. ”Remember, you’re not competing against time. Ready? Set… Fire!”
Two arrows set off whistling through the air at the same time. Their hands moved so fast that Ren’i only realised they’d fired off their first arrows once they hit the targets with a dull thunk.
And for once you really could hear it all the way from the seats. While during the earlier rounds the commotion had been loud enough to mute his own thoughts, the silence that had fallen now was so inpenetrable that Ren’i could have heard a pin fall on the pavement. The entire audience seemed to be collectively holding its breath.
”Go, Hawk!” Nightsong shouted right next to Ren’i and made him jolt. ”Show her!”
Neither combatant reacted. Ren’i was sure that Hawk hadn’t even heard her.
They were evenly matched. Though the targets were so far that Ren’i couldn’t make out the hits clearly, he saw equally many arrows jutting out of the innermost ring on both.
Hawk’s fourth arrow flew off its mark, as did Vannuil’s seventh. The audience let out a collective gasp. Hawk felt his muscles pulling as he took the second to last arrow out of the quiver and set it in place. It flew vibrating through the air and landed in the second outermost ring. He gritted his teeth but forced himself to exhale calmly, in control. One last arrow.
It was airborne just mere seconds, yet they seemed to stretch on forever. Hawk hardly dared to breathe as it found its mark in the innermost ring. Vannuil loosed her last arrow a couple of metres from him and cursed.
The arrow went flying off the target.
For a moment all was silent until the viewers realised what had happened. The audience went wild. Hawk could only just hear Nightsong screaming something incoherent over the whistles and stomping feet, though he could not discern the words.
”The judges will now count the final score!” the announcer attempted to get his voice heard over the noise. No one paid him any mind. Many of the taivashi soldiers on the seats looked like they were still trying to recover from the shock as the judges counted the hits and updated the scoreboard. ”The winner is number 5, Hawk of Hatam-Ile with an impressive score of 93! Vannuil Norvan came in second with the end score of 85.5…”
Ren’i’s palms were tingling from clapping. On his other side Ared looked ready to burst with pride.
”What a victory!” Silverbrook whooped over the applause.
”Well, well. That consul of yours isn’t a bad shot, either,” Onniar told Ren’i.
”Well, she is one of the most experienced soldiers in Hol Saro,” Ren’i answered.
Onniar scratched at his short-cropped beard, a curious glimmer in his eye, and stood up. ”So they claim. I’ll exchange a few words with Hawk.”
He vacated his seat and vanished so quickly that Ared and Ren’i just stared after him, utterly perplexed.
”What’s gotten into him now? He usually vanishes in the pub as soon as the competition’s over,” Ared said, frowning.
Assistants gathered up all the equipment as the audience began flooding out of the seats towards food stalls and serving tents.
”My congratulations. I would have expected no less from the man who saved our prince’s life,” a low voice said behind Hawk’s back. As he turned he found Vannuil observing him with an unreadable look on her face. ”Many tales are told of the sharp-eyed akheri up in the north. After today’s events I’m ready to believe that at least some of them are true.”
The consul offered her right hand to Hawk. After a moment’s hesitation Hawk took it.
”Few akheris have had the honour to compete against the legendary Vannuil,” Hawk said.
”The honour is all mine,” Vannuil replied. ”You have not considered enlisting by any chance? A skilled like archer like yourself would certainly come in handy.”
”You’d regret the offer. I don’t like taking orders, especially from your kind.”
Vannul did not seem to mind the words nor the sharp tone with which Hawk had uttered them. Quite the opposite. She laughed as though she’d never heard anything funnier.
”Wasn’t your best competition, but you won anyway,” said a voice right by Hawk’s shoulder. He was surprised to see Onniar. The huntsmaster clapped him on the shoulder in fatherly fashion. ”Practising with a good partner has done you good.”
Hawk squinted suspiciously. ”If you say so.”
Hawk had grown accustomed to Onniar being stingy with his praises. In his boyhood years, when Hawk had still participated in the kekri festival and competed almost every year on the insistence of his teacher, there had always been something Onniar thought he could improve on. He never gave his feedback publicly nor through criticism, unlike some of Hawk’s other teachers, but rather left his commentary for another day when they were in private somewhere without others listening in.
Onniar had stuck to his habits for decades. That he had gone against them meant there had to be a special reason for it. Hawk’s suspicions were confirmed as Onniar bowed clumsily at Vannuil. There was a look on his bearded face that Hawk never remembered seeing before.
”Congratulations to your opponent as well,” Onniar said, a strange gleam to his eyes. ”That was an impressive feat for a demon. I don’t believe we’ve been introduced?”
Vannuil lifted her brows. ”Where I’m from we don’t usually go around congratulating losers.”
Onniar grinned with his entire row of teeth. ”Yeah, yeah, we’re aware just how competetive you people are. If coming in second bothers you, then there’s no other cure for it than practice. Don’t you think so, Hawk?”
Hawk could just barely stop himself from sighing out loud. ”Onniar is the huntsmaster of Hatam-Ile,” he said dully. ”Vannuil is one of Ren’i’s… I mean, the prince’s consuls.”
Onniar grinned even wider as he and Vannuil shook hands.
”Have you gotten to taste kheru wine yet? A local specialty, and the berries are exceptionally good at this time of the year,” he boasted. ”Look, we could sit down and discuss the finer points of archery in more depth with a drink in hand.”
Vannuil looked amused. ”And the drinks are on you, sir?”
”Just call me Onniar, lass. No need for formalities on kekri.”
”Is that so?” Vannuil smiled. A smile was a poor fit on her ageless features. There was nothing soft about her, just hard, pointed angles. She drew in the eye as she moved, not because she was beautiful, but rather the way a forest fire or a tornado was alluring. ”Well, I suppose one ought to try it once at least. Where would you go to have a taste of this traditional treat?”
”There’s an excellent pub nearby. Just you follow me.”
Hawk stared at them, unable to believe his eyes. Onniar looked very pleased with himself as he lead Vannuil through the crowd towards the bar, music and visitors alike pouring out of its doors. They attracted other stares as well as they went, and Hawk didn’t question why. They cut a strange impression together, the short and hairy akheri in his hunting garb and the broad-shouldered taivashi woman in her white tunic, nearly two full heads taller than him.
Nightsong shrieked as she wrapped her arms around Hawk’s neck when he joined the others. Judging by how she was beaming she’d already enjoyed a glass or two of something that was certainly not water.
”Did you see their faces? Serves them right!” she whooped and smacked Hawk in the back with such force that he felt his teeth chattering in his mouth. ”You beat them with their own bow!”
Hawk clapped her on the shoulder soothingly but didn’t say anything. His eyes were on Ren’i, who was lounging against the wall behind the others, watching their merrymaking. He’d honoured the occasion by dressing in dark, straight trousers, gleaming leather boots and a long, purple silk tunic whose oblique hem reached almost all the way to the knees. Underneath it he wore another tunic, black and translucent, its hem just a touch longer than the outer layer’s. The front of his tunic was adorned with white lilac blossoms: a thoroughly Kishan subject matter, though the style of his garb was Nemerwatanese.
They had claimed a shadowy corner at the furthest end of the square, far away from the food and thus protected from an audience and any unwanted attention. Hawk pushed past Nightsong and Ared, aware of their eyes following him with tender amusement.
Ren’i smiled so that his green eyes twinkled, and Hawk drank in his sheer presence. Looking in his eyes felt like basking in sunlight.
”Hey,” Ren’i said. The sound of his voice made Hawk shiver. ”Well shot.”
So many days without him, without his warmth or his voice or the weight of his arms had felt like centuries, and Hawk felt himself breathing freely only once he lay a hand on Ren’i’s waist. He was here, he was real, warm and present. He was and still wanted to be Hawk’s.
Ren’i’s hands rested on Hawk’s shoulders as Hawk pushed him unceremoniously against the wall and kissed him despite the others watching them. Ren’i’s breath became his own, his warm lips against Hawk’s, and for a mere moment the rest of the world ceased to be. Hawk recalled his touch on a thousand places on his skin simultaneously, and missed him so much that he could have died from it. Missed him despite the fact that they were face to face and in each other’s arms.
”I missed you too,” Ren’i said quietly when they paused to catch their breath. Two red spots had appeared on his cheeks, which only served to highlight his freckles. Hawk felt like kissing each and everyone of them. He settled for kissing Ren’i’s forehead instead, drawing a shudder from him.
”I knew you’d win,” Ren’i went on, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. ”That was quite an improvement from when I last saw you shoot.”
”There were distractions at the practice,” Hawk pointed out a touch acidly.
Ren’i grinned. ”You should have said I was ruining your concentration. I’d have given you easier exercises.”
Hawk grabbed him by the collar and silenced him with his mouth.
Ared cleared his throat meaningfully when they showed no sign of resurfacing. ”Hey, you two. Silverbrook and Nightsong are going to get us something to eat. I’m assuming you’d like to have something, too?”
”I’ll eat anything you’re able to carry,” Ren’i replied and felt his stomach rumbling. Military rations weren’t known for their taste, and he felt as if he’d spent the past month constantly hungry. ”I’m starving.”
It turned out they had taken his words literally. The women returned with two trays so filled with food that Ren’i was amazed none of the numerous serving boxes hadn’t fallen along the way. They had taken a little bit of everything, just enough that everyone would at least get a taste, and for the longest of times Ren’i just sampled things here and there without partaking in the conversation.
”At long last,” he sighed after swallowing a piece of honey-marinated, oven-baked fish. It had a similar sweet aftertaste to it as most other akheri dishes. ”You have no idea how much I’ve missed fish.”
”We normally only have access to fish-based dishes during the rains,” Ared said.
”So I’ve noticed.” Ren’i snatched another piece right in front of Hawk’s nose and stuffed it in his mouth before Hawk could stop him. He was awarded a sharp glare for his thievery.
”What’s the food in Hol Saro like?” Silverbrook asked, her mouth full of bread.
”Hmm, well…” He thought for a second as he chewed. ”Lots of fish and other seafood. Wild game, root vegetables. Bread, of course, and all manner of things that grain can be used for, especially in winter.”
”Funny. I’d thought nothing grows in the north.”
”We get lots of fruits and vegetables that won’t grow in our climate imported from Nemerwatan.”
”Eat from your own plate,” Hawk huffed when Ren’i made to steal another piece of fish.
”Food tastes better shared,” Ren’i pointed out.
Hawk moved his plate very purposely away from him, which did not help much, as Silverbrook struck the moment he turned to grab a glass of water. A crispy strip of fried koori meat disappeared in her waiting mouth with a loud crunch. Nightsong sighed as Hawk’s expression darkened.
”I guess I have no choice but to fetch more, seeing as you’re all famished.” Nightsong discarded her leftovers on her wife’s platter and took off with an empty tray towards the serving tables, shaking her head as she went. Silverbrook beamed after her.
”Childish,” Hawk muttered.
Ared emptied his glass with a single swig. Though the flush from the wine did not show on his skin, Hawk knew from experience that his cousin was way more in his cups than he appeared to be. He laughed often, he laughed hard, and seemed to be smiling even more than usual, his white teeth flashing in the firelight. It usually meant trouble.
”You know,” Ared said to Hawk, setting the empty glass down next to himself on the bench. ”I am glad you changed your mind.”
Hawk could only just prevent himself from rolling his eyes, mentally preparing himself for the selected life wisdoms that his damn cousin loved sharing once he’d reached a certain point in the festivities.
”Oh, come on, don’t look so skeptical. I’m dead serious.” He leaned towards Hawk, eyes glinting, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders in brotherly fashion. ”Kind of a shame, though.” He glanced at Ren’i with a most unctuous smile on his face, lowering his voice meaningfully, and added, ”I’d have taken him gladly, had you decided you didn’t want him after all.”
Unfortunately Ren’i had just taken a sip of his drink and proceeded to almost suffocate on it. Silverbrook was forced to clap him on the back as he coughed, fighting to get air back in his lungs. Hawk shook Ared off himself.
”You’ve had too much to drink, Ared,” Silverbrook sighed. ”Don’t tease him with your tasteless jokes.”
”Who said it was a joke?” Ared threw back at her, smiling ever wider as Nightsong drifted back to them, the tray laden with food. ”Perfect timing. I’m in need of a refill myself.”
Hawk shifted closer to Ren’i, throwing the occasional pointed glare his cousin’s way.
Lanterns were lit once dark clouds pushed across the skies and the evening rain dressed the square in twilight. Hawk spent the rest of the evening sitting so close to Ren’i that their knees collided against one another’s whenever one of them shifted. Under the shelter of darkness Ren’i took Hawk’s hand, fingers laced with his, smiling as Hawk squeezed his hand while eating. Nightsong and Silverbrook glanced at each other, then at Hawk and Ren’i, and smirked at each other knowingly.
Kheru wine warmed him from the inside and smarted in Ren’i’s throat going down. He drank with care: he had the summer festival and how quickly the wine had gone to his head in fresh memory. Instead he grew intoxicated from the atmosphere and the company, fully enjoying that he was able to share all this with the others, with Hawk on his side. A mere month ago the thought had seemed impossible.
Ren’i stole a look at Hawk, unnoticed by anyone. There were green ribbons braided into his long hair.
He’s the one who should be a prince, Ren’i thought. Hawk was oozed confidence like any royalty, so handsome in his festival clothes that Ren’i felt dizzy looking at him so up close. Green tunic patterned with vertical stripes of different hues, low-heeled leather boots, loose dark trousers, resembling those of many other akheris. A brass belt with hanging leaf-shaped ornaments that chimed with his every movement was wound around his hips. The ensemble suited him.
A loud bang shook Ren’i out of his reverie, and the dark sky was temporarily lit up by sparks in a multitude of colours. Something went loudly whistling towards the heavens and exploded into a hundred colourful lights. Their glow bloomed even through the canopies drawn over the square.
”Oh, is it starting already?” Silverbrook gasped. She clambered to her feet and took Nightsong’s hand, the leftovers on the tray completely forgotten. ”Let’s get closer!”
”Fireworks?” Ren’i exclaimed. ”But it’s drizzling.”
”It’s always raining in the Hytherlands on kekri. It has never stopped us before,” Ared replied.
They abandoned their dishes and pushed into the bustling crowd, letting Silverbrook and Nightsong show the way. Many others remained on the square watching under the shelter of the canopies, yet more headed towards the tents set up by the gates where they served ale. Hawk grasped Ren’i by the shoulder and steered him away from the town centre, following Silverbrook’s tiny figure that had nearly been swallowed by the throng of people.
It was much less crowded by the lowered drawbridge at the edge of the town. Nightsong was leaning against the railing between Silverbrook and Ared while fireworks illuminated the sky. The akheris had to do something to their explosives, for they caught fire as though there wasn’t a hint of rain. They rose high into the air and shattered into multicoloured blossoms, flanked by mighty rumbling.
The firework masters of Hol Saro could enchant theirs to circle above the audience like birds flying free, but the akheri display was just as jubilant in its simplicity, Ren’i thought.
The attention of the others was on the blooming colours that brightened the skies and the environment with brilliant sparks of light. Every soul present, be they drunk or sober, was staring up at the heavens. Delighted sighs and shrieks of laughter emanated from all around them as a large rocket exploded and formed a butterfly, sending a shower of gilded sparks in every direction.
Hawk inched closer to Ren’i and leaned towards his neck. The noise muffled his words from all other listeners.
”Come and stay the night?” he asked, hand taking Ren’i’s. The intensity in his voice was heavy with promises of things to come, sending the blood pulsing in Ren’i’s veins quickening.
”At the cottage?”
”Yeah.” There was a short moment between fireworks when it was perfectly dark. Hawk took his chance and pressed a kiss against Ren’i’s ear. Sharp teeth pinched at his earlobe so gently that there was no pain, only leaving his skin tingling lightly. Hawk couldn’t help relishing the way Ren’i inhaled. Hawk lowered his voice, whispering straight into Ren’i’s ear, ”no one will notice if we go now.”
Ren’i glanced around. Most spectators there were akheris, and the few Kishans who had found their way to the bridge were just ogling the fireworks with wide eyes. Ren’i held Hawk’s hand tightly as they zigzagged through the crowd, and no one looked at them twice as they vanished in the night.