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Snowflakes came to rest on Doom’s shoulders, yet another reminder that winter had arrived. Winter meant a host of inconveniences for the Resistance. Less plants to forage when food got scarce. Less game as animals went into hibernation. Shorter days and longer nights. Gusts of wind so cold that sleeping in the wilderness could be fatal even without the risk of Grey Guards. Worst of all was the snow. A set of tracks left uncovered could lead the Shadow Lord right to their hideout.
He had yet to teach Dain about this particular problem, and it showed. As soon as the boy noticed the white flakes swirling around them, he laughed and stuck his tongue out to catch one.
“You’re going to have to take extra caution from now on,” he admonished. “Watch your footprints and never take the most direct route back home.”
Dain blushed, as he so often did when he thought he’d made a mistake, and drew his tongue back in. “I’ll be careful.”
Doom nodded, though he had his doubts about that. “We should have enough food stored up for the following month,” he said, more to himself than Dain. “But we’ll need extra bedding and blankets.”
“We’re low on Quality Brand Honey too,” Dain reminded him.
“Yes, that too.” They were expecting Steven by the end of the week. The Resistance would have to make do with what little they had until then. They’d gone longer than that before.
Doom stepped out farther into the woods and Dain trailed after him like a shadow, listening carefully and following orders as best as he could. Even so, Doom could tell that something distracted him. He kept stopping to watch the snow fall and one of his arrows missed a rabbit that should have been an easy shot.
When a second arrow missed its target, Doom sighed. “Well? What’s on your mind?”
It was going to be another request to go to Tora. It always came back to Tora.
Dain flinched. “I was just thinking…it’s almost New Year’s Day, isn’t it?”
“Yes…?” Doom raised his eyebrows. So, it wasn’t about Tora. But what, then?
“Are we going to do anything special to celebrate?”
“...What?”
“Celebrate. For New Year’s Day. Doesn’t the Resistance do anything?” Dain shivered, half from the cold and half from growing excitement. His eyes shone as he got himself worked up talking about it. “My parents and I always gathered as much food as we could spare for a feast - not a big one, of course, but enough to be special, and we’d melt wax on New Year’s Eve to make a candle. We’d stay up late until midnight and then light the candle to welcome the new year. Then we’d make promises for how we were going to make the new year better than the last one. Sometimes we’d exchange gifts too.”
Doom just stared at him. “So…could we do something to celebrate with the Resistance?” asked Dain.
“What is there to celebrate? Another year under the Shadow Lord’s tyranny?” Doom sneered.
“Or another year closer to finishing him for good,” countered Dain.
“That might not even be within our lifetime. And even if it was, you want us to have a feast? With what food? We have enough to get by, and enough stored for newcomers who might join us. We can’t afford to waste it on a party.”
It was all so pointless anyway. Staying awake until midnight wasn’t some great novelty when you were being hunted. They could make all the promises they wanted, but they’d soon revert back to their old habits, likely before the day was over.
Maybe there had been a time when he’d celebrated such things as New Year’s. Doom had no way of knowing, but it wouldn’t have mattered if he did remember. It hadn’t prevented his life from turning out in the way that it had.
Dain could see that his idea had fallen flat. His eyes dulled and he muttered, “It was just an idea, that’s all.”
Something about his timid, unhappy expression felt familiar to Doom. But he couldn’t place what it was, or why it hurt.
Doom looked away. “No feast.” He caught sight of a deer weaving through the trees and readied his bow. “But if you want to speak with the others about lighting candles or however you want to celebrate, that is your concern, not mine.”
Dain gasped. “You mean…?”
“I said, it’s no concern of mine. Follow whatever traditions you like, so long as they don’t attract unwanted attention.”
At the very least, it would distract the boy from thoughts of Tora.
When they returned to the stronghold, Dain wasted no time gathering recruits. In spite of himself, Doom watched the boy move throughout the cavern, sitting by individuals’ campfires and relaying his idea. The children were by far the most interested, which only strengthened Doom’s doubts about the whole thing.
“Mama always takes a special ribbon out and makes my hair look pretty,” said one little girl, who went by Jemma. “You brought it with you, right, Mama?”
Judging from the pained expression on her mother’s face, the special New Year’s ribbon had not survived the journey to the Resistance. “I’m sure it’s somewhere in our things, dear,” she lied. “I’ll look later.”
“Can’t you look now? Please? I want to show it to Dain!”
Dain had caught on as well. “No, Jemma, save it for New Year’s. Make it a surprise for me.” He patted her on the head and quickly crossed the cavern to crouch next to Doom. “Steven carries hair ribbons, doesn’t he?”
“I thought I told you I wasn’t getting involved in this.”
“I was just asking,” stammered Dain, and he scurried off to the next family.
Doom fully expected the adults to have some common sense and blow it off. Here, in the safety of the cavern, they could afford to let their guard down and show the exhaustion and despair that they all felt inside. Here, they could afford to be brutally honest. And they, more than the children, understood what had been lost and why all of this was so pointless.
Some of them did blow it off, but Thalgus perked up when Dain visited him. “We used to light a candle too,” he said. “Remember, Petronne?”
She picked at her stew and shrugged. “Something like that.”
“Imagine if we all lit candles by our tents - it’d brighten this place up for a while. The little ones would love it, I’m sure.”
Dain nodded as he took notes on a piece of paper - no doubt making a list of things to buy from Steven.
They were soon joined by Jinks, which was never a good sign. “Ah yes, New Year’s Day.” He snickered. “What grand feasts we used to have at the king’s palace! My friends and I would perform all kinds of tricks for the good people of the court. And when the dinner was finished, we would march around the courtyard, banging our silverware against our plates and making as much noise as we could. It was said that such commotion could drive the Shadow Lord away from Deltora for another year.”
He spread his arms out, gesturing to their current circumstances. “And see how well that worked!”
Doom shook his head. “Oh yes,” he called out, “That sounds like the perfect way for people in hiding to celebrate: making as much of a racket as we can.”
“I wasn’t going to let anyone do that to celebrate!” Dain protested, though his slumped shoulders suggested otherwise.
Petronne looked up from her stew and grinned. “Perhaps we should recruit Jinks to lead the entertainment then, eh?”
That was the worst idea Doom had heard so far. It might be a way for Jinks to release some energy, but more likely than not, it would be a way for him to ruin every last one of Dain’s plans.
“But of course!” Jinks took a sweeping bow. “I’d be honored to perform in these humble circumstances.”
Dain looked concerned - which was a relief, because it meant that even Dain’s trust had its limits. “As long as you promise to keep your tricks to the stage, Jinks. New Year’s Day is meant to be a time of hope. We want to raise people’s spirits, not bring them down.”
“My, listen to you! What a fine leader you’ve become in the short time you’ve been here!” Jinks sneered. Dain blushed but held his ground. “There’s no need to look so suspicious of me. I promise to perform to the best of my ability.” And with that said, Jinks retreated to the back of the cavern.
But not far enough. Doom grasped him by the shoulder as he passed. “You heard Dain. I’ll have no underhanded behavior or needless drama from you.”
“I thought you weren’t getting involved in the little boy’s games?” said Jinks. Doom turned his full glare on the other man until Jinks flinched. “There’s no need to treat me like a criminal. I haven’t done anything yet.” Doom nodded and released him.
No, he wasn’t getting involved in Dain’s games. Not now and not ever. But someone had to keep the more troublesome members of the Resistance in line.
With Jinks gone, Dain soon returned to his cheerful demeanor. He had a small group gathered around him now, and Doom could hear ideas being thrown out by more and more people. Melly, a young woman who loved to sing, told them all about a tune that her village would play in the years before the Shadow Lord burnt it to the ground. “How did it go again…?”
She began to hum, and something stirred inside Doom. He’d heard that tune before. Where had he heard that tune before? Other sounds were coming back too…the crunch of snow underneath his feet, laughter as a snowball hit a palace guard, panting as they ran to hide…
Hide where? With who? And why a palace guard? Had he once been one of the many desperate people living in Del? Had that been his way of fighting back as a child?
Jinks’ mocking voice spoke in his head: “And see how well that worked!”
Doom shook off the strange echoes calling out to him from the past. That was where they would remain: in the past. He had to keep moving forward.
Steven arrived two days later. He loved Dain’s idea. It was a rare occurrence when Steven let Doom down, but this was clearly one of those times.
It didn’t matter. He had other matters to attend to, and could only spare a passing glance at Dain and Thalgus spending their much-needed pocket money on candles and hair ribbons. All that was needed was a quick nod, and Steven gave them everything that they wanted for half of what he normally charged. Doom would reimburse the other half when they weren’t looking.
He walked slowly through the snow, listening to the soft crunch underneath his feet. In front of him, Thalgus suddenly dropped to the ground, formed a snowball with his hands, and struck Dain in the back. The boy spun around and scooped up his own ammunition to hit back.
Without Melly’s song serving as a spark, the noises meant nothing to Doom. But he found himself smiling as he listened to Dain’s laughter.
The next morning, all of the children who were old enough to walk and talk had formed a small army around Dain. What they were up to, Doom half-dreaded to find out.
As he drew closer, Dain divided them into eight small groups and handed a stone to seven of them. "I've painted each of them to look like a gem," he was explaining to them.
"Can we have the purple one? Purple is my favorite color," said Jemma.
"No, amethyst goes with the Torans, dummy," said one of the boys.
Dain intervened. "Then why don't you join the Torans, Jemma. That will settle things."
That solved the problem for Jemma, but it also invoked chaos among the rest of the group as various children decided that they didn't want the red stone or the green stone anymore, or whatever stone didn't match their preference.
The most popular group by far was the one that held the blue-painted stone, flecked with white stars. It was getting to the point where even Dain was showing signs of impatience. "You can't all be with the Mere tribe. Split up!"
It took time, too much time, but calm was eventually restored. Seven groups each held on to a fake gem, all clearly meant to represent the gems that once made up the Belt of Deltora. An eighth group of child actors had been set aside to play the main roles in a rudimentary pageant. Arod and Elia's boy won the coveted role of Adin. Three other boys and two girls waved a dark sheet through the air - their idea of what the Shadow Lord looked like. Petronne's niece, Vivian, played the Toran woman who would become the future queen of Deltora, and set off a long line of increasingly foolish descendants.
"Wait!" cried Vivian. "What about the Belt?"
"Oh yeah," said the boy playing Adin. "What are we going to use for that?"
Doom smirked. An "Adin" who didn't know where to find a Belt for the people of Deltora. How ironic.
"We'll just have to use our imaginations," Dain told them. The children groaned. But there wasn't anything else they could use for their pageant.
That night, Dain found a spare belt laid outside his tent. Someone had attached the painted stones to it using pieces of rope. The mysterious donor did not leave a note behind.
To Doom’s complete shock, Jinks did behave himself on New Year’s Day. Doom didn’t believe in miracles, but that alone almost convinced him that they existed.
Everyone ended up participating to some degree. Those who didn’t want to be involved in the actual festivities went on guard duty at the entrances to the hideout. Doom could have joined them, but it seemed to him that the best thing to do would be to remain where most of the Resistance was situated. Dain would be too distracted to keep a proper eye on everyone.
They chose not to follow the ancient palace tradition of marching around the hideout and making as much noise as possible. Instead, they settled for Melly’s songs, and tales told around individual campfires. Each tribe had their own stories to share, and of course, there was one that all of the tribes knew very well.
Dain cleared his throat. He had hung a large between the two largest tents in the hideout to serve as a curtain. Multiple pairs of little feet stuck out underneath the bottom flap. Parents and neighbors sat down to watch. Chuckles broke out in the audience as they waited to see what their children planned to show them.
"This is the tale of the Belt of Deltora."
One by one, the "tribes" emerged, each holding their own magic stones. The chuckles among the adults turned into barely-concealed laughter as the Shadow Lord actors rushed out with the blanket flying over their heads. They ran circles around Adin's actor, while Vivian let out convincing cries of fear.
It was a strange tale to tell, to say the least. One that ended bitterly with the king betraying his people’s trust, the gems stolen and scattered, and the Shadow Lord using the opportunity to invade and conquer their kingdom.
Or so Dain had always believed. Dain appeared to have written a more positive ending.
"But the gems are not gone for good!" declared Jemma, shouting her lines so that everyone could hear her. "One day, someone will find them and help the Resistance drive the Shadow Lord away for good! And Deltora will be saved!" She waved her arms over her head and the audience broke out into cheers.
Doom sighed. All of this merrymaking was exhausting.
He helped himself to some food and sat on the other side of the cave. There he could watch as Dain directed the children to clean up the props used for their pageant. When all was said and done, they all ran off to play their own version of a game to find the "gems." Dain made his way over to Doom.
The boy bit his lip. He shifted his feet from side to side, rocking his arms back and forth, keeping his eyes on the ground…
Doom sighed. "What?"
"Don't you want to join us?"
He cracked a smile. “I thought I already had.”
“You know what I mean!” huffed Dain, his cheeks flushing. Again, there was something about that exasperated expression that felt familiar. It made Doom chuckle, though he didn’t know why.
“Why do you want me to join you so badly?”
Dain did not have an immediate answer to that. Doom went back to his food.
"Because…because you need hope too. I think you need it more than any of us."
"And how is 'hope' supposed to drive out the Shadow Lord?"
"It won't," Dain admitted. "But we have to believe that it's possible before we can actually do it, don't we?"
The answer surprised him. In fact, the entire celebration surprised him. The Dain who first joined the Resistance wouldn't have had the drive to create something like this, nor argue philosophy with Doom. The "little boy" that Jinks often mocked was clearly growing up.
"You have the festivities well in hand, from what I can see," he replied. "As I said at the very beginning, do what you like tonight. Just don't involve me."
Dain sighed. "Very well." He turned away, then stopped. "By the way: thank you for the belt."
Doom went back to his food. "What belt?" He heard Dain's soft laughter, and again came the sense that he'd heard it somewhere before. When he looked up, the boy had gone back to the other side of the cave to serve food. Doom brushed himself off and left to check on the guards.
Snowflakes drifted through the secret openings of the hideout, still as much of an inconvenience as ever. Perhaps a time would come when he would see them through Dain's eyes again, even if today was not that day.