The Court of Winds

Aelen leapt, hurling his body parallel to the floor, strands of silk whipping around him, blades slashing the air even as he flew. He landed, flicking his swords behind him, then spun on his heel, low to the ground, his swords skimming the mirrored floor.

It was his first real battle, his first performance in the Unwild. Spiders in the Feyrun forest had been driven to attack the village of Aberholme and had carried off several mortal men and women to be cocooned and drained of their lives when the spiders got hungry. Stratos recreated the scene, leaping away from the remembered beasts, his lithe body bending away just enough to show how close the poison-dripping mandibles had come.

He heard and felt the crowd gasp in enjoyment. Baltyr Collandros was watching as well. The ancient troubadour was the most gifted musician in the Court of Winds and the current favorite of Lady Cumulus. Aelen was still enjoying her recent patronage, but he was still new to the center stage of the Skylands. Stratos had considered asking Collandros to perform with him, joining his music to Aelen’s sword-dance. But Aelen knew his status was not so great yet.

The young sword-artist cartwheeled over an implied opponent, slashing downwards as he flipped. With the patronage of the Queen of Clouds, Lady Cumulus, he had the time and resources to refine his art. The bulky iron armor that had protected him from the newborn lich now stood on a stand in a hallway of the Skyland, displayed for all to see who had missed the performance. Lady Cumulus had gifted Stratos with sylvan armor in its place. Beautiful hides and leather made from the most dangerous creatures of the Feywild; the subtle greens and browns shifting with an almost inner light. To this Aelen added fresh silk ribbons, wrapping himself in bright color. He still carried the sword that he had bathed in fiery elum, so that its blade cut deeper than normal steel. The Cloud Queen herself had imbued her favor, the could-silk scarf she gave him at the outset of his performance, with her own elum, granting him her protection as well as favor.

He had received gifts of gold and clothes, he had his own chambers in her Court in the Sky, and when she traveled the Feywild, visiting Gateway and the courts of the Eldarin and her fellow Elemental lords, he attended her, ready to perform at her whim or those of her peers.

But as dashed across the floor, blades slashing to the left and right, moving across the battlefield in his mind, he thought that it lacked something. True, this was beautiful. The courtiers looked on with admiration, and he had received praise from his fellow sword-artists as well – though there were as many purists who thought that he sullied the art by engaging in true battle like a soldier. But this performance was only an imitation of the true art that he had experienced and that the court had watched from the clouds. Could this mere rendition compare to what they had seen then? Here, the only thing at stake was his reputation and the favor of his Lady. Risking his life had added a zest to the performance that he had not felt since.

And more, there had been the camaraderie of his companions. Sasha, Leilia, and Argent. The dynamic of the group who had, by a glorious accident of fate, been thrown together into the jaws of mystery, had added a richness to the performance. Aelen thought about asking other sword artists to join him in dance, to play the parts of the Guardswoman, the Scholarly Thief, and the Humble Hunter. Perhaps he could infuse a little more life into the art.

The young artist landed after a fantastic leap, his blades freezing in the pose of the last, victorious strikes. He panned his gaze around the room, seeing each of his fallen foes and counting the dead, before he sheathed his blades in a whirl of glinting steel. He bowed deeply as the courtiers offered their applause and music lifted upwards.

There was really no substitute for adventure. Once it had only been seen as a duty to one’s patron or lord, or as the necessity of a soldier or ranger. Now seeking out trouble and danger brought glory and fame. Aelen knew that soon he would have to set out again, striving to outdo himself. Other sword-artists had already announced their intention to follow.

He looked across the court, satisfied that he had pleased his Lady, and content to let another of her courtiers take the stage for now. Perhaps someday he would replace Collandros as her favorite. But his gaze stopped on a young Eladrin woman across the room. She was wrapped in clothes of sheer white, pale lavender and soft blue-white. A scimitar rested against one hip, but her hand rested, not on the weapon, but on a silver flute stuck through the sash at her waist. She was looking at him with a troubled frown on her face.

Stratos resolved to seek another adventure. Soon the pale woman and everyone else would have a new story, a new performance, to smile about.