Amalia Tham - With the specter of death turned away at the gates, I still found it hard to count my blessings. The clergy at the temple of Acionna have been more than generous in their accommodations. The festival activities have kept me busy, allowing a new routine to assuage my grief. The waking hours are the easiest. When the quiet of night visits, the regrets and should have dones come with them. Looking backward only brings grief at the moment. It is for this reason I must look to the future. Tagaern and Hakaar, both good friends of the family, have pledged to help rebuild. With their good will comes an expectation of leadership and direction. I cannot let them down, nor can I ignore the debit I owe my father's memory. When the festival is done and I have repaid my debit to Acionna, the larger work will begin.
I visited the town square today after my assignments for the temple were complete. The large effigy loomed large at the end of the square. The sisters and I had worked hard to complete the woven wood statue. A stack of paper sat on a table adjacent to the towering effigy. I stared at the blank sheets of parchment held fast against the wind by a large shell. A short line of townspeople surrounded the table where they could vent their regrets and fears. A dark haired boy who couldn’t be more than ten stuffed a tiny scroll into the straw bedding inside. I thought to myself he was too young to lend anything of substance to the burdened structure. The wounds on my own heart were still fresh. The scars would come later. I waited in line for my turn. What could I say. Would the ink and quill bear away all the weight of recent events.
Goddess, I have only ever paid you passing notice before now. If there is healing of the heart, then take from me the shame and guilt, in its place lend me courage.
I spent time unmeasured writing on the small parchment squares. I rubbed my aching hand when I was done.
We, fatherand my brother and I, had only been in the area for a handful of years and in that time I had never taken the time to visit during the Festival of Acionna or any of the other festivals for that matter. Kellas House was all consuming. It occurred to me that I had only visited Hlofreden on three occasions before now.
Two copper pieces landed me a cup of Acionna’s finest wine. Within minutes I had found a perch providing me a great view of the wheel barrel race. An event I was told was not to be missed. The mass start was almost comical as the pilots and the passengers stormed out of the town square. Among the contestants were several familiar faces.
I had met Bromm and Danin on many occasions. Seeing them exerting their energies in this way brought a smile to my face. Near by, Haraar had aligned himself with an albino man whose only color came from the ink that decorated his skin. It was hard to believe we owed the freedoms we currently enjoyed to their courage.
As the contestants rounded the first of several challenging corners more than a handful of the passengers in the barrels were unceremoniously deposited on the cobbled street. As the remaining chariots sped up into Three Lanes they disappeared from sight. The crowd around me erupted in applause and laughter as the remaining teams remounted their conveyances and attempted to reenter the race.
I took several long pulls on my cup before the leaders emerged down a different street angling for the finish line. Five pairs vied for the coveted winner’s cup. My friends had reported themselves well. Bromm’s eyes were as big as saucers as the downhill ride was propelled by the determined Dwarf holding the handles and pumping his feet. Close behind them was Hakaar and the albino. The power of the two giants was not enough to unseat the gunslinger and the cleric of Derum Ebbar. Roars from the crowd told me what I could not see from where I sat. A winner had completed the challenge. Other teams continued across the finish line as I made may way to the town square. I felt light as I moved into the celebratory crowd. Had the festival ended then and there I would have counted myself blessed to be in attendance. The real miracle was yet to come.
