Back to Chapter 7
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The progression that left for the Grand Stage of the Festival was large. The King and his nobles were on horses draped in the King’s bright green. Lady Laun and her people were much more motley, but the dark green of the Salam-Dir household was visible on all who rode alongside the carriage Laun was in. The chair and staves that had provided transport for Laun to the carriage had been strapped to the back of the cab, held partially in place by the footman.
The 30 or so people who drew up to the Grand Stage created more space around the King and Lady Laun than normally would have been done. They all had been somewhat briefed on the possible attempt on their lives, and to look out for Bregnan. Only seven people mounted the stairs to the main level of the Grand Stage from the group. The rest reassembled just a little away from the crowds that had gathered to see the closing ceremonies and entertainment from the host.
Falmir himself had not arrived, yet. Some of his household were at the stage, that almost impenetrable wall of dark blue and grey servants that seemed to just always be impassively watching. There were a few benches on the stage, one of which Laun and Disa sat on after Laun had slowly, but gracefully, climbed the stairs to the stage with the help of the King himself and one of the staves. Geralk took up a position behind the women and started to scan the crowd. One of the impassive servants blinked and looked slightly confused for a moment before his face became unreadable again.
The crowd was getting restless. They could see people on the Grand Stage, but nothing was happening but the nobles talking amongst themselves.
Lord Falmir and his escort finally arrived just before the chimes announcing that it was five o’clock sounded. The full livery on man and beast outshone, in a dark way, the King’s own presence. Laun had seen a painting of the man in his keep, the overly tall mural not too much larger than the man himself. Falmir was in full leathers as if he was going to be going on a hunt, not ending the celebration he had hosted. The black and grey leathers fit him closely, showing a muscled frame that was much larger than his father’s. The mural had not caught the haughtiness, or the true handsomeness, of the man. The men who came up onto the stage with Falmir were also wearing leathers, except for Bregnan.
The wiseman looked about and saw Laun and Disa on the bench away from the King. He moved towards the back of the stage and to the opposite side. Laun saw that and turned towards Bregnan. She made a show of nodding at him, making him nod back, forcing him to acknowledge her. Disa looked briefly at the wiseman and then to the King. She turned away and tried to look like she was focused on cleaning off a piece of lint from Lady Laun’s dress as her temper rose at the sight of her treacherous fiancé alongside Lord Falmir.
Falmir was next to his father and raised his hand for the crowds attention. It was a few moments before the closest of the crowd focused enough to let the Lord of the Festival Land speak not shout.
“Good people! I thank you all for being here on my lands for this Festival!” The crowd surged forward slightly and the cheers became very loud and rambunctious. Lord Falmir waved his hands and the crowd calmed slightly. “With the permission of the King,” Falmir turned slightly towards King Dreng and partially bowed, “I would like to start the ending entertainment!”
Before the King could say anything, the crowd was cheering again. It was so loud, Dreng didn’t have to say anything but spread his arms wide and nod at his slightly taller son. Only those close to him could see the caution on the King’s face. The smile was real though short lived as the entertainment started in front of the stage as well as in other parts of the temporary tent city.
Laun could see fighting kites flying above the crowds, the huge wings mimicking the various predator birds of the households in the Midlands. Acrobats tumbled in front of drummers and horn players, parting the crowds for the progression of the entertainers that each of the households had provided on the request of the host. There was something about the entertainment, though she had never been to a festival before, that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. It had been so sudden that the household had not focused on anything but preparing for the trip and festival after Bregnan had brought the missive. Knowing more of the world, and the wiseman, something was making Laun want to run as the merriment went on around the stage.
Several groups in, Laun recognized the dance master from her own household, as if the bright outfit he had on could blend him into any crowd. She leaned to Geralk and said, “See the man in the rainbow tunic at the head of that dance troupe? When he is past the stage tell him to take the dancers to the Salam-Dir hold. Go with them.” Geralk was going to protest, but Laun shook her head. “You need to get them to safety. And tell Orgia that they have to be ready to leave.”
Geralk nodded, went around the bench and bowed slightly to Laun. As he went down the side steps off the Grand Stage, one of the nobles with Lord Falmir looked back at the women on the bench. He almost dismissed them until something set into place in his head and he turned back.
Lord Greggory Nimbh looked at the ghost sitting next to the odd Lady. The young Lady that he had seduced, tricked and used. He had seen Disa convicted, had taken her rank as if they had been married and assumed that the execution had been held. But there she was, dressed as a servant and seated next to... Greggory did not know the Lady, though she looked very much like the King’s son next to him. And that boy of an Ambassador who had vouched for his entry into the Midlands. That was why the kingdom was going to fail - small breeding stock.
But that made him think further. If Disa was alive, and was with the Midland’s King here...
Greggory’s attention was very focused on trying to figure out why Disa was alive and there at that very moment and almost missed the signal from Lord Falmir. Three stamps of the heavily booted foot and an undercurrent from the crowd changed, surged towards the stage and the Kings’ guard. Within a minute most of the people near the stage that were openly wearing the King’s bright green were overcome and gone from sight.
Those on the stage with Falmir moved towards the King and his men. A shout from one of the King’s sworn nobles and the attention turned from the entertainment to the coup upon them. Steel flashed out of sheaths and the older nobles that seemed to be pampered and soft turned out to be very skilled at fending off the younger men who attacked them.
Greggory moved towards Disa and Laun. He was angry and curious and knew that Disa was a threat, even if she had been saved from the executioner. The blade in his hand was ready to slash the throats of the women and he moved towards them. More shouts, this time from the crowd, spurred him on, a bloodlust starting. He did not expect the stave that Laun had used to help her get up the stairs to suddenly come up and be between his legs. He staggered and fell to his knees. The blade dropped and was picked up by Disa.
She raised the blade but did not plunge it into his neck as she wished to. Instead, she turned the blade in her hand and the pommel struck him at his temple, knocking him out. Laun had to step over the body to try to escape the battle that had erupted on the stage and in the crowd. She motioned to another blade on the back of the prone man and Disa drew it and handed it to Lady Laun.
The King and his men were being backed off the stage and into the crowd. A few cloaked men appeared out of the crowd and joined into the battle. Some pulled back the cloaks and the King’s Bright green was underneath. Most had Falmir’s Dark colors with the Midlands’ arms and the Kings’ crown above. Swords entered the mix, the small blades that had been almost enough being replaced with longer weapons.
The two women were mostly unobserved in the commotion. The impassive servants seemed to have woken from a long nap and were slowly moving forward towards the fighting as a mass, lessening the amount of space available. Bregnan was no where on the Grand Stage and Laun could not spot the darkly dressed man in the close crowd. Laun leaned on the stave for balance, holding the knife almost as an afterthought. The women went off the stage on one of the side steps and they were almost to the horses when Laun was pushed by the now confused crowd into one of the fights. The man she landed against turned and started to push her away when he recognized her. And then she recognized him.
“You!” Harcem, the bandit leader spat out. If it hadn’t been for the man fighting him, Laun was sure that she would have had the sword stuck through her.
Laun was able to back off slightly as the Kings’ man thrust at Harcem. She was not close enough to use the blade in her hand, but the staff she still was leaning on was long enough that she swung and caught the tip of his nose, and then past and into his eye-socket. He screamed and fell to the ground as blood flowed over the hand cupping his face.
“Ayyya!” came from the Kings’ man at Harcem, but the stroke missed as he was jostled from behind. Harcem, still in pain and hardly able to see, escaped under the feet of the crowd pushing it’s way from the stage. The King’s man pushed through the crowd of now panicking festival goers and disappeared.
Disa was pulling on Laun’s sleeve to try to get her to the knot of Salam-Dir people. Laun was having difficulty moving any faster than an old, weighted down mule. The people around them were making it difficult to know which way they were going as more and more people seemed to be taking sides in the fight and even unliveried peasants and merchants were now fighting alongside the Bright or the Dark. They pushed through as well as they could until a familiar face almost passed them.
“Dougal!” Laun called out to the lead figure of men carrying swords and the King’s Bright green. He rounded on them and had relief on his face. The men he had with him surrounded the women and made a small spot of safety in the chaos.
“Lady! Can I help you?” It looked like he wanted to kneel, but even with the men at his back, there was enough jostling that he brought himself fully upright to speak.
Both Disa and Laun started to say, “The King!-” Laun finished her thought, which mirrored her maid’s with, “- The King needs help. The last time I saw him, Falmir had him pressed into the crowd in front of the Grand Stage. Go! Help your Sire and Liege. We will make it to Salam-Dir.” Laun was gasping through her raw throat from shouting above the battle noise as she finished.
Dougal nodded. He pulled one of the men around and motioned to the women. The armed man nodded and, with a minor bow to Laun, Dougal led the rest towards the Grand Stage.
It took many more minutes and several scuffles before the three of them reached the cornered Salam-Dir people. Laun saw one of the younger wardsmen being held by another of her people against a wall of haybales, a gash accrost the wardsman’s thick chest bleeding through both of their hands. His dark hair made his paling skin even more striking as she could see that the wound was making him faint from the bloodloss. Laun could remember when that young man had come to the Salam-Dir household many summers before, barely able to talk to any of the other household because of his homesickness. Laun, as Peach, had friended him and teased him for being this big youth who could move the oil and sand filled polishing barrels by himself but could barely look anyone in the face, especially her. They had become friends. He was her friend. He was-
The stave came up and struck the Dark follower along the bare crown of his head and was already in another arc to hit another of the attackers before even Disa knew what was happening. The King’s man had to move out of the way as the anger and bloodlust took Laun over and she made a hole in the men who surrounded her people. Laun felt the pain of the wounds and sores she already had, but that just pushed her further. Swords went past her, one connecting, the red flash of pain flowing through her. She could almost hear the music for the cane dance as she followed the steps she had been using while on the road. The crack of bone was the upbeat of the drum. The scream was the syncopation. The bodies falling to the ground individual crescendos before her body faltered.
The Dark men who remained fled into the mass of people who had stopped to watch this woman defeat them. A small cheer from a few of the peasants could be heard above the roar of the battle, but it was short lived as the chaos pushed them past again. Laun and Disa were pulled to the Salam-Dir people. An uncharacteristic strong hug by Edgar to him dislodged the damaged brass chestpiece on Lady Laun and let her fully collapse as all the energy brought out by the bloodlust dissipated as a phasma-fly into the night.
The one horse that had not bolted when the battles had come to them had Fount and one of the other wardsmen on it as the Salam-Dir pushed to the guest house. Edgar himself carried Laun, her blood mingling with his own on his tunic. Disa was close behind, carrying the stave and blades and the chest piece with the Salam-Dir crest on it. She was crying hysterically as she moved with the household for she had seen what Laun had not felt in her rage - a sword slash that went through the chest piece that had torn through part of the brass emblem to open the talon slash for real.
Pillar appeared at Disa’s side. His strong hand took her arm and supported her as they reached the caravan that had assembled in front of the guest house. Orgia was pointing and yelling and directing the remaining household members. She saw the small group come up and she had both Lady Laun and Fount put into the back of one of the wagons right before they all started for the main road. Pillar and Orgia climbed the moving wagon and wordlessly started to mend the two before them. Laun tried to push the help away and to Fount until she saw he was being tended, too. The halting progress they made with and against the others trying to leave Lord Falmir’s lands made it difficult to work, but they were able to sew up the new wounds and give both a drought to make them sleep through the worst of the trip.
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