Moons Apart | Ferry's Tale # 3

The tournment

Ferry flinched at the sight of bright red blood dripping down Stot's leg. His eyes widened and his heart raced. He couldn't help himself and came out of the shadows.

"Stot, can I help you?" he said softly.

Stot looked up at him. After his sturtle passed, he tried in vain to stand up, leaning on his staff.

"I don't need your help, Prince Garrett," he said, trying in vain to hide his wound.

But Ferry stretched out his hand and Stot finally accepted it. His gaze was no longer as troubled.

"About your wound... I won't tell anyone," said Ferry.

"What do you mean? It's just a cut. I'll be fine. Bedsides, the tournament is coming. I have to be ready," he said firmly, trying to trudge towards the castle.

Ferry joined him. "Stot, why didn't you say you were human? That's why your wound doesn't heal. That's why your blood is red."

Stot stopped on his way. "I'm not human!" he almost shouted. "I am not one of those lazy, greedy, fake, selfish beings! I refuse to be a damned man!" he said between his teeth. And he went on, not caring about the pain in his leg or the shadows that stretched before him.

***

The Cloud Fortress Tournament was organized to celebrate the victories of the Amalgham army, but also as a proof of the progress that the young fighters were making. Or maybe they were just attempts to give hope to the inhabitants of the Fortress, now that the Long Night was getting closer. And since Thyme had won a new victory, it was another reason for everyone to celebrate. And one more reason for Ferry to show everyone how much he had learned.

On the day of the tournament, Ferry was woken up by Raghnall earlier than usual.

"Who will I fight?" he asked as he hurriedly dressed.

"We cannot decide that. Not even our commanders. It will be drawn."

"So it's some kind of a competition between us soldiers?" Ferry asked.

"You could call him that," Raghnall replied. "We usually organize such moments for people who are devoted to the Fortress through their work. So that they can see how much we work, how much we train to defend this world from the enemy."

The road to the arena behind the castle was strewn with cheers and shouts that sounded louder and louder as they approached. Everyone was present, Solacers and Amalghams, from small to large.

They were all there, seated in concentric circles around the battle arena built on the meadow behind the castle. The first semicircle was occupied, of course, by Lord Stephan, with Thyme and Leomh by his side. His guards followed, then, in the third semicircle, the warrior elves, among them Raghnall, all a bit noisy and impatient.

At some distance, standing, all the inhabitants of the Fortress were present, from the female Amalghams in the kitchen to the young Amalghams who tended the stables or the blacksmiths.

Ferry noticed the arrangement of the seats in the tribune – each one meant a place in the hierarchy of the Cloud Fortress: to the right of Lord Stephan, the place was empty, waiting for him. It was the place between Lord Stephan and Thyme, his two mentors. Leomh was seated to the left of the Pan, with Stot by his side. Stot was pale and thin, and seemed to have aged since Ferry had last seen him. In the back row were his Guardians who encouraged him with a nod and a smile. Even Sage greeted him with a short nod of the head.

Oona sat down calmly next to the young elves who had made room for her in their midst, happy and slightly unsettled by her presence. The nymph had taken her place on a seat with three pillows so that she could see better. She was laughing and clapping her hands, and the young elves, delighted by her presence, tried to get her attention. Everyone, except for Raghnall who was sitting back, somewhere on the edge of the noisy group. Dressed in an emerald-colored dress, with her red hair braided in a thick braid that fell down her back and with a crown of silver flowers on her head, Oona looked like a real queen who had come to watch a show her subjects had organized just for she.