9. Rourk
Chapter nine
Rourk
S o quickly, everyone seems content to go on as if nothing at all had happened. As if three fresh graves were not just out of eyesight.
The Shanti People decide to continue with The Patron’s Blessings Festival, and the next evening was a stark contrast to the dour day that preceded it. Though people still grieved their dead and nursed wounds, music was played, a feast was prepared, and the drink flowed.
I woke that day to find my legs were surprisingly more capable, despite the excessive use and strain on them recently. I figure I need to push the muscles to get them working again, and go through several periods of pain and rest on the road to recovery.
The large field between the tents and huts is alive with people mingling, filling bowls of food and cups of wine, and breaking into sporadic dancing. Those with the musical instruments are playing a jolly, whimsical melody that feels both fun and somber. I notice several small groups who are sitting to the side and clearly not engaged with the frivolities, the weight of the recent devastation and deaths keeping them separate from the rest.
I was told I should wear something green for the festival this evening, although of course I have no clothes other than my old uniform and what I’ve been given so far. Before the central bonfire is to be lit to mark the beginning of the festival, Leila approaches to hand me a forest-green tunic.
“This was my Geralt’s,” she tells me with a sad smile. “Might as well put it to some use.”
“No, that’s unnecessary,” I say, taking a step back. “Thank you for the offer, but—”
“Nonsense,” Leila says, and thrusts the clothes into my arms. “You must. Geralt would want to see it used for good rather than collecting dust, don’t you think?”
“You don’t even know me,” I say slowly. “Are you sure you want me to wear his clothes?”
“I am sure,” she says with ease, giving me a smile. “Besides, it would be rude to not wear green to the festival. It is meant to mimic the land. Do you know that? And your garb there reminds me more of rot. Not the growing, blooming earth around us.” She pats my cheek lovingly. “Wear the clothes, boy,” she says. “And do so with confidence. Geralt had good taste.” She winks and pinches my face before strolling off.
People try to soak in the celebration, but I can see that it’s not as easy for some people to ignore what happened as it is for others. Some look around with nerves, as if expecting Wildmen to appear any minute. The Elders insist they won’t be back for a while, that no two attacks have ever happened so close together before, but it’s easier to say something than it is to believe it.
I'm glad to see that they have listened to my advice and placed lookouts at regular intervals on the outskirts of the village. Each lookout has a horn they can blow the moment that any danger is spotted. I’ve never liked taking chances. In my experience, it’s always best to be prepared.
I make my way around the festival in a slow stroll, taking in the merriment. These are not my people, but it is nice to be with them on this special occasion. While I’ve been learning so much about them in the short time I’ve been here, they are also fairly secretive about certain matters. Which I understand. I’m still a stranger to them and the Oathlands have not had a peaceful history with their people.
I come to one table laid with food and see Galene is there, filling her plate. She is in a flowing white corseted gown with emerald adornments, and leaf-like ornaments are in her dark hair which is smooth this evening.
She tenses when she sees me, but it is a subtle flinch that is almost imperceptible.
“Enjoying the festival?” I ask as I pick up a cup of wine from the table.
She focuses on placing vegetables on her plate. “The Patron’s Blessings Festival is to bless the world and bring us good fortune. It is not for enjoyment.”
“And yet, I can’t help but detect a sense of merriment,” I say, looking around. “Must be my imagination.”
Galene turns to me and pauses, her face dropping. She storms up to me and jabs a spoon at me. “Where did you get that? That tunic does not belong to you.”
“Leila gave it to me. She said she wanted me to wear it.”
She looks at me with uncomprehending eyes. I can see her building up her next argument. She sighs and says, “You should not be wearing that. Geralt was a great man. A greater man than you’ll ever be.”
“Some people think I’m pretty great,” I say with a playful grin.
Her scowl tells me she doesn’t appreciate that.
“Speaking of clothing,” I say. “That is a wonderful gown on you.”
She glares at me and her eyes narrow mistrustfully. “I am relieved to know this garment, which I specifically wore for you, pleases you.”
When she turns back to the table of food, I say, “I know you don’t like me. But that doesn’t mean we have to hate each other. Have I done something to offend you personally? If I have, then I apologize deeply.”
A hint of hesitation passes on Galene’s face. She shakes her head. “I do not think of you at all.”
I consider pushing the matter further, but finally concede. “Very well.” I take a step closer and she looks up at me with those bright blue eyes. “Despite it not being the purpose, I hope you enjoy your evening.”
Our gaze remains locked for a long moment. Her chest heaves with her rapid breathing and her lips are parted. There is something infuriatingly interesting about this woman, and I really don’t know what to make of it. I think I see something vulnerable buried deep within her stern eyes .
I take my chance to be the first to walk away and do so, not looking back. Firebugs dance in the night air. With the bonfire in the center of the field sending golden light into the star-filled sky, and the whimsical music in the air, there is a dream-like quality to the evening.
Either I have become severely weak lately, or the Shanti wine is fiercely potent stuff. This is my second cup this evening, but it feels like I’ve had an entire bottle of red.
I was told that the merriment of the villagers is the gift they give the land, to pass their festivities and good hearts into the earth and pray for goodwill to come back to them.
Aldus is near a round table speaking with a few elderly people I haven’t seen before. A large canvas has been laid beneath the table and chairs, and there is a great bounty of food and drink on the table. This seems to be an important group of people.
When I see Leila rushing about nearby, breaking up a playful fight between her two boys, I go over to her. She has given the boys a stern warning to behave and sent them on their way by the time I reach her. She smooths out her floral dress and smiles at me.
“Those two boys are going to kill each other one day,” she says with a heavy breath. “Or me.”
“They are spirited,” I agree, having to raise my voice as we’re closer to the musicians. “I was the same with my brother.” I catch myself before I mention Arthur. I still don’t want them to know I’m the brother of Arthur Bearon, the new ruler of the Oathlands.
“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Leila says .
She has a pleasant air about her and a hint of a smile always on her lips. A stark contrast to the gruff stiffness of her sister. She is only a few years older than Galene, but there is a tired look to her smooth features, with faint dark circles under her eyes and distinct furrow lines.
I change the subject by looking over at Aldus. He kneels at the table, speaking with two of the five elderly people. They all have indistinct ages but look well into their nineties at least, fragile and shriveled with age.
“Those people with your father. They are the village elders?” I ask.
“They are,” Leila says. “That’s right, you haven’t met them yet.”
“To be honest. I wasn’t even sure if they existed.”
Leila giggles. It’s a lovely melodic sound. “Of course they exist. I can see you want to speak to them, but I’ll have to strongly discourage that. They are a highly private group, and we have our ways. They do not hold audiences with strangers.”
She regards me while I study the old people at the table. “Trust me. You don’t want to overstep.”
I initially think that’s a warning, but I realize her words come from a place of concern. “I do trust you,” I say. I don’t fully believe that, but I feel like I’m on my way to it. Leila and Aldus seem to be the most trustworthy people I’ve met in the village.
“Good,” she says with a smile. “Because you should.” Her face hardens when she sees something behind me. “Oh, those two are at it again,” she says with a sigh, and rushes off toward her warring boys .
The boys’ boisterous play takes me back to simpler times when Arthur and I would compete to see who was the strongest brother. For many years, as the oldest, I would hold that title, but after Arthur’s growth spurt, he eventually had the largest physique.
In a way, that had pushed me to become my best self. I would train and work hard to prove I was not the weakest brother, and it wasn’t until many years later that I would realize I was only competing against myself.
Leila looks back and gives me another smile as she goes away. I find myself smiling back. I can see becoming friends with her, given how easy she is to speak to and how pleasant her company is.
And yet…
Galene is near the bonfire, helping an older lady stand up. While she has a hard, prickly edge with me, I’ve seen how kind and caring she is. How good her heart is.
A somber smile comes to me. Galene’s hatred of me reminds me of how I’d first met my wife all those years ago. Galene has a similar fire and stubbornness within her.
It has been over ten years since my Sia left this realm, and this is the first time I’ve seen a glimpse of her in someone else. I’m not sure how to feel about that, especially when the face I see her in is one I have no chance of a future with. Not any kind of future. She will be here, with the Shanti people, and I will be in the Oathlands. She will forget my name before the year is over, and I can only hope to have the same luck.
I stroll around for a while, greeting a few familiar faces and picking up my third cup of wine .
The festivities and crowd become too much for me and I feel like taking a moment to myself. I’d like to check on the watch guards to see if they are keeping to their posts and looking out correctly. I’m sure they are in need of a lot of advice and instruction, as no one here is a trained soldier.
I reach the path between a row of tents and see someone is ahead, walking up to me. The young girl has a cascading river of blonde curls that bounces about her as she giggles to herself about something. Her dress is low and cut in a flattering style that emphasizes her full breasts and shapely legs. I’ve seen her around, I think.
She perks up and stops when she sees me. “Oh. Hello there,” she says, her voice breathy and light.
She slinks closer with a mischievous smirk and a gleam in her green-blue eyes. She knows how strikingly alluring she is.
“There you are,” she says.
“And there you are,” I simply say.
She giggles and curls a lock of hair behind her ear. She’s come to a stop so close that I can smell the floral perfume in her hair, and is looking up at me with wide, captivating eyes. I can’t help but stir at her proximity.
“I was hoping I’d run into you. We haven’t met yet. My name is Wini.”
“Tarin,” I say.
She giggles again, making me think I’ve missed a joke. “I know who you are. You’re leaving the festival so soon? It can be dangerous out here. You should really have a companion when you retire to bed.” She bats her eyes at me, inching closer and closer .
“I’ve heard how dangerous beds can be,” I say, “but I’m confident I need no companion. Thank you for your concern, Wini. Perhaps there is a young man out here in need of your protection.”
“One poor soul to save at a time,” she says, flashing her eyebrows.
“How old are you?” My guess is barely out of her teens.
She smiles demurely and leans into me, filling my senses with her floral scent. She takes my hand and presses it onto her considerable breast. “Old enough.”
I feel myself drift closer to her parted lips, but I snap out of it and step back, retrieving my hand from hers.
She appears confused.
“You should go back to the festival,” I encourage her.
Her scrunched face shows she is deeply offended. “What is wrong with you?”
I sigh. “My wife would not approve.” It isn’t technically a lie.
“She isn’t here.” Her alluring nature disappears. “ We are here. Now. At this moment.” She scoffs. “I thought you were a man.”
“I am… old fashioned.” And very uninterested. “And I am exhausted. Enjoy the festival, Wini.” I give her a pleasant smile to tell her there are no hard feelings, but she scoffs again and strides away, shaking her head.
I do my best to put the young Wini from my mind, trying not to think of the wild night of fun I could have had with her, and make my way out to the nearest lookout spot beyond the trees. I have to admit it’s been quite some time since someone has stirred me like that, and I have half a sense to go back and find her. But I know that wouldn’t be right. I couldn’t. My Sia wouldn’t like what she sees when she looks down on me in the heavens. I couldn’t do that to her memory. Not a torrid night of sex with a random voracious vixen. One whose name I’ve already begun to forget.
Once I’m happy with the mindset and skills of the person keeping watch beyond the village, I head back to find a place to rest. My ankle has started throbbing.
Later in the evening, one of the village elders, whom I learn is named Audric, makes a speech about their recent losses, and how they will come back stronger than before. They will honor their dead by thriving in their memory. That earns him a raucous round of applause. His speech ends with a blessing to their god. I’m surprised that they only have one god, rather than the many gods known to the Oathlands. I’m in no mood to get into a religious debate with them.
After the speech, the dancing and music begins and thrives through the night.
The table of village elders keeps my attention for most of the night. I can’t help but think that these people are hiding something from me. What is the real reason I can’t speak to the elders?
Another thought takes precedence in my mind. The thought of leaving. I will see how strong my legs are tomorrow and consider leaving, perhaps. I can’t stay here. I have a life to go back to, and a daughter and brother to reunite with.
I just wonder what I’ll be leaving behind here.