Chapter 18
Kelpie’s Song
As the Festival of Light approached, unease settled over Lumora.
Whispers, carried by merchants and farmers in hushed tones, circulated through the markets and taverns.
The townspeople found a goat dead in its pen, with its lips stained as if with soot.
Near the forest’s edge, a fox lay sprawled, its eyes clouded and leaking a black substance that soaked into the ground.
Birds swerved erratically in the sky, some plummeting to the earth lifeless.
Though The Circle documented each occurrence, they couldn’t determine the cause.
The elders attributed the events to illness, even as the air grew heavy with each patrol.
The town continued its preparations. Lanterns adorned the eaves, vibrant silks decorated windows, and the air filled with the scent of perfumes.
To bless the celebration and ward off ill fortune, people polished their sacred bowls and carefully etched runes onto their rims. As preparations reached their peak, a few Circle members were dispatched from Lumora.
Their mission: to travel to Glenn na Mara, the coastal port a day’s ride away, to procure supplies that the town lacked.
These included offerings from distant lands, intricately woven silks, and artifacts brought by seafaring ships.
Sorcha, Riona, and Rhosyn volunteered readily, their minds equally focused on the mission and the prospect of new festival dresses.
Commander Nethran, cautious of their eagerness, assigned Eirin and Emry to join them.
Eirin was to ensure the mission’s focus, while Emry’s expertise in artifacts made him a logical choice for the trip.
“This way,” Nethran had told Emry with a pointed look, “there’s better odds if anything happens.”
The group departed at first light. Soft glow of dawn barely kissed the horizon as they left Lumora’s gates behind. The air was crisp and quiet, save for the soft clatter of hooves and the rustling of saddlebags. Sorcha stifled a yawn as she stretched in the early morning sun.
“It feels strange leaving now,” she murmured. “The festival’s so close.”
“It’s why we’re leaving,” Eirin reminded her, his tone brisk. “If we don’t bring back what’s needed, there won’t be much of a festival at all.”
“You act like this is a punishment,” Riona said, her voice teasing. “Glenn na Mara is practically a treasure trove.”
“For you, maybe,” Eirin muttered. “Some of us have to work.”
“And some of us know how to balance it,” Emry said, his tone warm and light as he glanced back at the group. “Besides, she’s not wrong. Glenn na Mara’s market is famous for a reason. Spices, fabrics, artifacts. It’s the kind of place you’d want to visit, even if it’s work.”
“You’re also forgetting the books,” Rhosyn said dryly, her lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile.
“Among other things,” Emry replied with a grin.
Riona nudged her horse closer to his, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Just don’t let those books bankrupt us.”
“Excuse me, I’ll have you know I’d use my money,” Emry said, his grin widening. “I’m a very discerning spender.”
Sorcha leaned toward Rhosyn, lowering her voice. “How long do you think they’ll keep pretending they’re not together?”
“Too long,” Rhosyn replied, smiling and rolling her eyes.
The journey continued for hours, marked by serene landscapes of golden fields, dense forests, and gentle slopes.
As the afternoon progressed, the salty air grew stronger, and by the time the sun began to dip, they reached the final hilltop, offering a view of Glenn na Mara.
The town below shimmered in the sunset, its bustling harbor filled with activity.
Ships gently swayed on the water, their sails decorated with ribbons and charms. The streets were adorned with crushed seashells and pearlescent stones, which scattered the golden light, creating dancing rainbows.
Vendors crowded the market square, their stalls overflowing with colorful goods: silks, intricately carved runes, and a blend of spices filled the air. “It’s beautiful,” Sorcha whispered.
“It is…” Eirin agreed, his gaze encompassing the town. “Let’s not get too distracted.”
Rhosyn began listing the items they needed: “Sacred bowls, spices, silks, and runes. It shouldn’t take long.”
“Unless you let Riona shop,” Emry teased, drawing a glare from Riona.
“We’re allowed to shop,” Riona stated, gracefully dismounting. “And while we’re at it, someone will surely find the perfect book.”
Emry replied, “Can’t make any promises,” though a smile played on his lips.
Eirin feigned disgust, saying, “Could you guys just stop already?” Laughter erupted from Sorcha and Rhosyn.
The group separated to explore the market, planning to meet at the harbor once finished.
Sorcha and Rhosyn strolled through the stalls.
A gown that shimmered in the fading light caught Sorcha’s attention.
Its emerald-green fabric appeared to move like water, with gold embroidery adorning the bodice.
“That one would suit you,” Eirin murmured, having silently joined her.
Surprised by the warmth in his gaze as he admired the gown, Sorcha responded, “It’s not practical.”
“Not everything has to be.” Eirin’s lips quirked, but his voice was softer than usual.
“That’s the one,” Rhosyn said firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument.
Sorcha hesitated, brushing her fingers over the fabric. “It’s beautiful, but… isn’t it a little much?”
“It’s the Festival of Light,” Riona said, appearing beside them. “It’s one of those nights you can, and should, dress like a goddess.”
“She’s right,” Eirin said as he paced, his arms full of goods.
“And it’s more than just a dress,” Emry added, stepping closer. His tone was thoughtful. “The designs here reflect the gods’ influence. Wearing something like this is honoring their presence.”
“Careful, Emry,” Riona said with a smirk.
Sorcha flushed, finally relenting. “Fine. But if it’s too much trouble to pack—”
“It’s not,” Eirin interrupted, already signaling to the shopkeeper.
Rhosyn was with Emry and Riona, while Eirin hung back with Sorcha as they walked through the vendors.
They needed scraps of clothing for the corn dollies to be made for the children, decorative bowls for the fruit and grains, ingredients for the Lammas loaf, mistletoe, and, last, cleansing runes.
The coast hailed many of them as being one with the sea.
Rhosyn stopped at a vendor who displayed many silks and clothes and began bargaining. She eventually walked away with a basket filled with purples, blues, reds, and oranges piled high and neatly.
“I think I did rather well,” she stated proudly.
Riona chuckled. “I’d say you robbed them blind with your charm.” Her fingers drifted over the fine silks and cottons.
“I did not! It’s not my fault the man wanted to take me to dinner.” She winked.
That was when Eirin and Emry howled with laughter. Riona smiled and wrapped an arm around Rhosyn.
“See, boys? This is why you let the ladies’ shop.”
Emry bowed dramatically. Eirin smirked. “Is that a challenge?”
“We accept,” Emry answered. “Watch and learn.”
Eirin and Emry took the list from Rhosyn and walked toward a younger woman selling baked goods. Sorcha, Riona, and Rhosyn stood far enough back to watch the exchange.
“How much do you want to bet they get talked into buying more than what we need?” Sorcha said to the others.
Riona accepted the challenge with a grin. “I’ll buy the first round tonight if they do.”
As the late afternoon wore on, the city’s music and bright chatter swelled until they could no longer resist joining in. Turning on their heels, they drifted toward the nearest row of vendors, the air rich with spice and laughter.
Sorcha slowed as they passed a stall lined with delicate wind chimes carved from bone and shell. They swayed gently in the breeze, pearls catching the light like drops of moonfire. She reached for one, her fingers brushing the smooth surface as a strange warmth bloomed in her chest.
“My mother had one like this,” she murmured. Rhosyn rested a gentle hand on her shoulder.
Sorcha covered it briefly with her own before letting go and moving on.
Eventually, the two rejoined the others. Their arms full, one basket brimming with ingredients for Lammas bread, the other overflowing with sweets.
Sorcha eyed the baskets and laughed. “Looks like you owe us a drink.”
Riona turned toward Emry, shaking her head. “What?” Emry said, looking entirely too guilty.
Eirin chimed in, head low. “It all looked good.”
Emry declared he could do better, so he walked with Riona to a nearby vendor. He tried to haggle over a satchel of dried figs and wound up paying more than the asking price.
“You’re banned from negotiations,” Riona said flatly, snatching the figs. “You’re a vendor’s dream.”
After securing the festival goods and packing everything for the return journey, the group settled at a harbor-side tavern for dinner.
Plates of roasted fish, buttery crab, and zesty stew were shared over rounds of spiced wine and smooth ale.
The air filled with music and laughter as Riona pulled Sorcha onto the dance floor, spinning her with reckless abandon.
Even Rhosyn joined, her movements graceful and precise as a flicker of joy lit her features.
Emry lingered at their table, his baby-blue eyes following Riona as she danced. He tried to appear unaffected, but his fingers tightened slightly around his mug as he watched. Her laughter and confident movements drew him in.
“I’ll ask her to dance if you don’t,” Eirin said, looking from Riona back to Emry, a smile playing on his lips.
Eirin then stepped forward, offering his hand to Sorcha. As the music slowed, Eirin pulled her onto the dance floor. His movements were confident and effortless, his soft hair sweeping over his dark eyes as they swayed. “You’re good at this,” Sorcha chuckled.