by S. Y. Lee
“Sparrow,” Sam whispered. The expression on his face was difficult to read. His eyes were sad and narrowed. His lips curved up slightly.
“Sparrow,” he said, louder this time. “It was given to me by Sir Pexaf after the battle of Windmore. We had fallen for a trap by the enemy and he had gotten separated from our main force. I led a small group to rescue him, but I was the only one to survive… After the battle, he bestowed this sword to me, one of his two treasured swords, as a reward. It served me well until the end.”
Sam walked over to the window pensively, staring out at the street in front of the inn. “The blade is light. Forged from the mines of Mount Erl. But it’s strong too. It can go head to head with any blade or weapon and come away without a scratch.”
“Why is it called Sparrow?” Leo asked.
Sam turned around and there was unrestrained joy on his face. “Try swinging it.”
Leo stepped away from the two men, backing into a corner where he had more space, and gave the sword a couple of swings. It felt like he was waving air or an imaginary sword, and he began to understand.
“It’s… like I’m not holding anything.”
“Indeed. The wielder is unencumbered by any weight, which allows him to strike swiftly and move around with ease.”
“Like a sparrow.”
“Exactly.”
John took out a belt from the box and handed it to Leo. “Here, use this. I thought the sword would be a good gift for you for the festival. Sam, don’t you think so?”
Sam nodded.
*
Breakfast was leftover meat from yesterday, and while Leo was hungry, he couldn’t take more than three bites before pushing his food away. Not many patrons of the inn were around for breakfast, and the dining hall was a lot quieter than it had been last night.
The Spellnar brothers were talking between large mouthfuls of meat about going to the market and other shops for supplies. The innkeeper offered to send one of his employees to get what his brother needed for the farm, and summoned Genfrey, the unlucky fellow who happened to walk by at that moment. Sam listed the items off the top of his head to Genfrey, counting out with his fingers until he got up to nine. Most of the items seemed normal to Leo, but there were also a few that stumped him. Items such as liverdrop oil and wormwood. Leo had never even heard of such things.
Genfrey repeated the list aloud and left when Sam nodded his approval. The conversation then shifted to the festival and Leo perked up.
“I heard this year’s festival is going to be huge. More people expected than ever before. If you go to the Silver Square right now, I’m sure the shops are already open,” John said.
“So… what festival is this?” Leo asked nervously. He knew the question would be curious to both men, and even the entire city, but Leo seemed to be the only person for miles who didn’t know the answer. He needed to ask the question, no matter how strange it would make him look.
As he had expected, the brothers stared at him while he waited for a response. John broke the silence. “Leo! Have you hit your head on a rock? It’s the Quilen festival! To celebrate the victory at Quilen more than two hundred years ago? Where thousands of men died to prevent the land from falling into darkness?”
“Oh yes, of course,” Leo said quickly. “Of course, I know that. I was just… I was just wondering when we can go to the festival.”
John held his gaze for a moment, then patted him on the back before turning back to his brother, changing the subject to gossip about a rival inn across the city. Sam, on the other hand, looked unconvinced, but he stayed silent while tilting his head towards his unbearded sibling.
Just then, Leo saw Ilena walking into the kitchen out of the corner of his eye and he got up and hurried after her. She exuded an air of elegance and sophistication about her that didn’t quite fit the setting of the inn. The way Sam had described it, she had traveled a long way to be here. Perhaps she could dig him out of this hole.
“Aunt Ilena,” Leo said, entering the kitchen on her heels.
She turned around and greeted him with a hug. There were only two kitchen staff present at the moment who didn’t acknowledge them as they continued their food preparations.
“Leo, how are you today? Sleep well?”
“Yes, it was a very comfortable bed,” Leo said, before taking a long pause. Ilena waited for him to speak, knowing that he hadn’t shuffled after her just to say hello.
“Do you have a phone? Or some way to contact people? I need to get back to Chicago.”
“Leo, what are you going on about? I don’t know where this Chicago is, but I’ve known you since I held you in my arms when you were born, and you’ve never been farther away from the farm than Silverbrick. And what’s a phone?”
“It’s a…” Leo mimed himself using a cellphone, but only managed to draw more puzzled looks from Ilena. Now, one of the staff who had been cutting onions, a short woman with grey hair, had stopped what she was doing. She held the knife in her hand against the chopping board, motionless, and her head was cocked slightly to the side so that she could listen in on the conversation.
“Never mind, I thought, my father said…” Leo struggled to find the words. It was also the first time he had referred to Sam as his father. He had nearly not realized it. “He said you’re from across the ocean. I thought you might know… things.”
Ilena’s expression changed. It was like her face had suddenly aged ten years all at once. “You know I don’t like to talk about that. It was a different life before I traversed the treacherous waters and found refuge with the elves of Ifprin.”
Did she say elves? Leo could have sworn she just said elves.
“Is that to the west?”
“No, south of here. Enough, maybe another time I’ll tell you the full story. Even John doesn’t know all of it. He has never asked, and I love him even more for it,” Ilena said. The radiance began to return to her, like a light bulb gaining strength, and she smiled gently. She touched Leo’s cheek and gave it a loving pat. Her hand was warm, as though she was irradiating love through her palm.
Leo was dying to hear more, but he knew he couldn’t push the issue with Ilena.
*
The festival was being held in the Silver Square, which Leo found out was in the middle of the city as they walked there. In fact, each corner of the Square was landmarked by one of the four towers Leo had seen in the distance on their ride in.
The streets of the city were packed and Leo struggled to keep up with Sam. He wasn’t used to wearing a sword around his waist, and he kept apologizing as it knocked into everyone he walked by, though nobody seemed to mind. Fortunately, Leo was able to keep track of Sam, who towered over most people. It was easy to spot the bald man in a crowd.
Once they reached the vast open space of the Square, it was much easier to walk around and take in the sights. Leo stayed close to Sam as they strolled past shops that sold pastries, herbs, weapons, and toys. They stopped at a small jewelry stand, where Sam saw a friend and greeted him. There were all sorts of trinkets mounted with colored stones. Not exactly the most expensive pieces Leo had seen, but still very intricate. He remembered the request from the girl at the farm and looked around for something he could get for her. He was stuck here, wherever he was, so he might as well go along with it. From what he could infer, if Sam was his father here, the girl had to be his sister. Or she thought she was.
Leo picked out a beaded bracelet made of dull green and blue stones. However, when he held it up against the light, the stones turned as clear as crystal. Leo blinked and had to repeat the action several times before he was convinced that his eyes weren’t playing a trick on him. The store owner, a middle-aged lady with greasy red hair, beckoned him over.
“For a girl you like?” the lady asked.
“No, for my uh, my sister,” Leo said. He was still trying come to terms with the familial relationships that had been forced upon him since waking up in the farm.
�
�Perfect for a sister. Two silvers.” The lady held up two bony fingers. Both digits were adorned with beautiful and heavy rings. In fact, she wore at least one ring on every one of her fingers. It couldn’t be easy for her to hold objects, or make a fist.
Leo blushed, knowing that he had no money, and the lady was about to launch into a tirade when Sam stepped forward and handed her two silver coins. Leo strained to see the coins and what markings were on them, but the lady closed her palm around them as quickly as they left Sam’s fingers.
“Your sister will like that,” Sam said. It was the first time he had spoken to Leo since breakfast. No doubt he had been thinking about Leo’s question about the festival. Leo smiled at the lady, pocketed the bracelet, and quickly fell in step alongside Sam as they continued to wander the Square.
As they explored, Leo saw storytellers with flutes, fire-breathers, and sword jugglers. He was mildly entertained, and would have been amused if he was back in Chicago or Houston. There was nothing to indicate that all of this wasn’t real, and he started to question what he knew to be true. Maybe going to college was a dream. Eva and his parents, the mansion, all something concocted in his mind. Maybe this was reality.
*
After a long time of walking around, slowly making their way towards the center of the square where there appeared to be a fenced area, they approached two long lines. There were many men, and some women, waiting in line. Nearly all of them wore swords at their sides. At the front of the lines were two tables and several seated men with feathered quills and parchments.
Leo followed Sam to the back of one of the lines. Neither of them had said anything for a while and Sam was deep in thought. Leo had no idea why they were in line, but he thought it best not to ask. So far, his questions hadn’t clarified anything.
The line moved forward at a steady pace, and soon they were only five people away from the tables. Leo could hear people being asked for their names, then assigned a number by the men at the tables. He started to panic when he realized what the line was for. Leo shifted his weight restlessly from one foot to the other repeatedly as sweat started to form around his temples. He was about to nonchalantly walk away from the line, when Sam spoke.
“Son, you’ve been acting strange since yesterday. I don’t know what’s bothering you, but you need to focus. I believe in you.” His tone was neutral, yet Leo could see the gentleness in Sam’s eyes. He wasn’t used to this, certainly not from Colin Cowen. Comparing the two father figures, Leo wasn’t sure which reality he preferred more.
“I’m okay,” Leo muttered, looking at his feet. He didn’t want to disappoint Sam. No matter who he was, he had been kind to Leo. The line inched forward again, bringing Leo back to the situation at hand. This was the line for the sword fighting tournament he had heard about. It was the reason for the sword strapped to his waist.
Leo thought hard about his brief flirtation with the fencing team, wondering if he could apply those skills to the tournament. He didn’t need to win, he just needed to parry a few strikes and find a way to surrender. Since he was a child, he had often found that he could fall back on his natural athletic abilities and prowess when backed into a corner, no matter what the sport.
He looked around at the other people in line, sizing up his potential competitors. Most of them looked much like himself, young men who were inexperienced and nervous. Some looked like combat-tested veterans with scars on their bodies and swords that were scratched from frequent clashing with other swords. The fenced area in the middle of the square was spacious enough that Leo was confident he would be able to maneuver around his opponent and avoid being drawn into a fight in close quarters.
He took a deep breath when they moved up another place in the line, now just behind the person at the table. It wasn’t too late. He could still back out. Maybe feign an illness or just run away, although he didn’t even know which direction to run in.
Before he knew it, Sam and he were standing before the table, as a stern-looking man with a green feather in his cap asked, “Name?”
“Leo Spellnar,” Sam responded, pointing at Leo. Leo smiled awkwardly.
The man studied Leo intently from head to toe, eventually fixating on the sword from John. His lips pursed, then parted slightly as if he was about to make a comment about the sword, but he changed his mind.
“Number fifty-two,” the man said and he handed Leo a small wooden tile with the corresponding number painted on it in red. “Next!”
*
The crowd of participants grew until every person in line had been registered to compete. Once they were assigned a number, most of the participants lingered around the fences, waiting for the tournament to begin. Leo and Sam found an open spot against the fence where they had a good vantage point. Directly across them, some stands had been set up with canopied coverings, presumably for whomever the city’s dignitaries were. Next to Leo, a young boy was sitting atop the shoulders of his father.
“Why do they fight?” the boy asked.
“It’s one of the traditions of the Quilen festival, son. Every year we hold a contest to see who’s the best swordsman in Silverbrick, and the winner gets to join the city’s guard as a captain. It also reminds us of past battles fought. We’ve had peace for twenty-five years now, but it will not last forever. War is always looming,” the father explained.
The boy saw Leo looking at him and waved. Leo waved back.
“You have a sword!” the boy pointed out. “If you become a captain, will you make me a guard?”
“Um, sure.”
The boy’s father laughed heartily and slapped Leo on the back. “Good luck then! But my boy’s a little young, so you might have to wait a few years before you come for him.”
Leo winced. The boy couldn’t have been older than five or six and yet his father talked about joining a military outfit as though he was thinking about colleges.
He was about to come up with a witty remark, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Sam. He pointed to the middle of the fenced off area, where a man now stood with a horned instrument. The man brought it up to his lips and blew thrice as a deep and loud hum rang throughout the Square. Almost immediately, Leo could feel the bustling area quiet down significantly. Beside him, the boy was leaning down and whispering into the ear of his father, who kept nodding.
The man in the center lowered his horn but remained standing there at attention. Off to the side, the person who had assigned Leo his number at the table slowly sauntered out. He took his time, seemingly unaware that the eyes of everyone around the fence followed his every step.
After what seemed like an eternity to Leo, the man with the feathered cap stopped. He cleared his throat and shouted, “Citizens of Silverbrick! Welcome to the annual Quilen festival! We will now begin the tournament! Step up when I call your number! Seven! Sixty-one!” His booming voice carried his words throughout the Square, and more people started to gather around.
From the far corner to Leo’s left, a scrawny young man around his age climbed over the fence with a broadsword that looked too heavy for him to wield. He ran to the center of the ring where both officials had retreated away from, and in an unnecessarily animated fashion, stuck his sword into the ground. Some people cheered, while others looked around for his opponent.
Leo saw some movement in the crowd to his right along the fence and there were some shouts as a lean figure jumped over the fence in a single bound. The figure was clearly a woman and she sprinted forward, towards the young man, her long raven hair following her like a streamer on a plane. Her arms were slightly elevated on either side of her and her hands each gripped identical curved knives.
The young man barely managed to raise his sword just in time to block the first strike as the woman leaped at him. She was surprisingly forceful and he stumbled back two paces. She struck again. The crowd groaned, foreseeing the inevitable end. The broadsword nearly flew out of his hands on the third strike, and by the fourth strike, the young man faced
the woman with two open palms and a frightened look. She swung both blades in a pincer move, resting them on his shoulders.
The crowd cheered, as the man on the feathered cap proclaimed the woman the victor. Leo took in a deep intake of air, realizing that he had forgotten to breathe in the few seconds that had gone by for the woman to defeat her opponent.
*
Two more rounds of sparring quickly followed. The first bout was evenly matched between two middle-aged men and either could have won. The following round, a large shirtless man simply knocked his opponent over with one swing of his sword. He was so tall that Leo had seen him from across the square earlier. Leo was sure that had the man been from his world, he would have dominated professional basketball. He made Shaquille O’Neal look small.
The veins in the giant’s chest pulsated visibly as he roared and pointed his sword down at his felled opponent. The crowd roared back at him in a rapturous chorus and he raised his sword in triumph, basking in the glory. Leo heaved a sigh of relief knowing that he wouldn’t have to face this monster.
Leo wanted to turn away, to avert his eyes from the makeshift arena before him, but by now a sea of people had amassed around the fences and he could barely move, sandwiched against the wooden slats. He could feel the warm breath of the person behind him on his neck. It was unpleasant.
“I need to go get some air,” Leo said as he pulled on Sam’s sleeve, but it was so noisy Sam couldn’t hear him. He just nodded and assumed Leo was commenting on the fight. With each breath, Leo found it harder to stay calm as a feeling of claustrophobia started to sink in. He used his elbows to lean against the fence and pushed against the barrier as hard as he could to regain some semblance of personal space.
He was so focused on his struggle with the fence and the people around him, that he hadn’t heard the man in the feathered cap call out the next two numbers.
“Leo!” Sam nudged him. “Leo! That’s your number! Go on, you can do it!”
The big man opened up his body with his thick arms and created some room for a relieved Leo. Leo grabbed the ledge of the fence and pulled himself up with a little assistance from Sam. When he had one leg over, he felt multiple hands from the crowd reach out to tip him forward and he nearly fell on his head. Instead, he tumbled onto the ground into a soft roll and tried to get up as gracefully as he could.