dragged him back into the throng.
Neither of them had been down the Way that let away from the river, so they started off eastward to see what they could find. There was still a good while left before the Brawl started, so Hyden felt they had plenty of time to investigate.
It wasn’t much different from the rest of the festival: barrel makers, potters, leather-men, and jewelers, all yelling, bartering, and arguing with the passersby. The only thing noticeably different about this part of the gathering was the more frequent groups of armed and armored men moving about. Some were even on armored horses. These men wore polished steel plate mail armor, and had the horse-head shield of Valleya emblazoned over a field of yellow and red checks proudly displayed upon their shields. A few of them wore rich, blue cloaks as well. Hyden assumed that this was a sign of authority, for it was far too warm to wear something that heavy for any reason other than recognition.
Other men moved about the crowds, wearing uniforms of studded leather vests, with matching gauntlets and hard boots. These soldiers had bald heads and wild designs inked into their skin. A few of them had breast patches showing the orange on blue rising sun of Seaward, but most wore only black. The most frequently seen standard among the armed and armored men though, was the Redwolf of Wildermont.
The Leif Greyn Valley was considered sacred ground by all the kingdoms and races of the realm. No one ruled here. It was a place used only for this peaceful celebration. The rest of the year, only travelers venturing to or from the Giant Mountains, or people coming to see the Spire, passed through. Blood had rarely been shed here except in the spirit of competition. To kill on these hallowed grounds was a violation of some ancient oath that very few people even remembered. A few times, it had happened though; business arguments, cheating husbands, and drunken gamblers, always managed to leave a corpse or two behind when they gathered.
The small Kingdom of Wildermont, was the closest to the Leif Greyn Valley, and they owned the crossing rights to all the bridges that had to be traversed to get there by road. Every year, they added a small tax to the regular tolls and used the money to police the event. No one seemed to mind, because the ruler of Wildermont, King Jarrek, was notoriously fair and honest, and his men kept a lot of situations from getting ugly,
Wildermont was mainly a kingdom of miners and smiths. Being nestled in the ore rich Wilder Mountains, just south of the Leif Greyn Valley, they brought in their soldiers, and did the best they could to keep the unavoidable private quarrels from getting blown out of proportion.
Being that the majority of the weapons and armor made in the realm came from Wildermont’s forges, and the iron fittings for most of the shipbuilding as well, no one argued with King Jarrek’s assumed Summer’s Day authority. Known as the Redwolf Warrior, King Jarrek was as shrewd and as honorable as he was intimidating. He had no problem raising the price of Wildermont exports to a kingdom who didn’t keep their own folk in line at the Summer’s Day Festival, and he personally made sure that the men he had policing the event were well trained and highly disciplined. It was a conceded fact that only a fool angered the Redwolves while at Summer’s Day.
“Why aren’t there any elves about?” Gerard asked.
Hyden had noticed this too. He didn’t really know the answer, but the big brother in him caused him to answer anyway.
“I think they’re scared,” he said matter-of-factly. “There never really have been any elves about, not any of the years I’ve been here.”
Hyden saw an old, gray haired woman through the crowd. She was standing in the flap of a room sized tent, calling to them as if she had known them for years.
“Look!” Hyden pointed her out to Gerard. Out of sheer curiosity, they started angling her way.
“Those yellow-eyed devils hate us,” Hyden continued speaking about the elves. “They live in the forest like beasts. They don’t want, or need, the goods and services of the kingdom folk, or us clansmen for that matter. That Salazarkian archer that fouled out of the competition today said that the only reason they come out of the forest for Summer’s Day is to spite us all with their uncanny prowess with the bow.”
Satisfied with the answer, Gerard changed the subject.
“Father said that we were tricked today by a sorceress. She charmed me and him into selling her a dozen eggs for ill intent.”
“If she was really a sorceress, why did she bother to leave the gold behind,” Hyden asked rhetorically. “She could’ve easily tricked the two of you out of that as well.”
“Aye,” Gerard nodded, accepting Hyden’s reasoning as sound. “I don’t know why.”
They had made it over to the old crone’s tent by then, and she was waiting for them with her palm held out for payment.
“You weren’t tricked out o’ your gold so that you’d have enough left to spare me a bit o’ it.”
Her voice was strong and full of authority, but her breath smelled of cheese, and her teeth were mostly blackened stumps.
“For a bit o’ your gold, I’ll tell you your fortunes true.”
Hyden made a face at Gerard that caused them both to giggle like boys half their age. The woman was obviously blind. Her milky white eyes had no pupils or irises at all. They were brightly bloodshot though, the glossy white orbs streaked with tiny crimson veins. But that’s not what caused them to laugh. The woman’s hair was somewhat normal on one side, but on the other, the hair stuck straight up and out, and was tangled with bits of straw and string.
Gerard fumbled a coin out of his pouch, and with a roll of his eyes at Hyden, put it in the old woman’s bird- claw hand.
“I said gold!” she barked, causing them both to hop back a step. She flipped the silver coin back at Gerard with a sneer.
Hyden was amazed. Even if her eyes were good, she hadn’t so much as glanced at the coin before she’d snapped. She must have felt by its weight that the coin was made of silver.
Gerard suddenly felt like they shouldn’t be here. The woman had scared him deeply. He couldn’t admit that to Hyden though. He would never be able to live down the japes if he chickened out now.
She put out her open palm again, and narrowed her brows.
“A bit o’ gold from him, and a bit o’ gold from you. Place it in my hand, and I’ll tell your fortunes true.”
She chanted the rhyme, as if she’d said it a thousand times. After a heartbeat, she shook her wrinkled hand again for emphasis.
Hyden was about to turn and walk away, but Gerard surprised him by dropping two golden lions into her hand. He turned and looked at his little brother. They shared a look of anticipation and giddy fear that both of them knew well. Many times, in the mountains, while climbing a risky ledge or back in the village waiting for the giantess Berda to tell them a tale, they had shared the same wide-eyed expression of coming excitement. Gerard’s unease was forced away by the anticipation that Hyden’s gaze instilled in him. It was as if that look alone left no doubt in either of them that something extraordinary was about to take place.
“Come in, come in.” The old woman urged.
She stepped to the side and held the tattered tent flap open for them. A single candle flame, wavering from a low table, provided just enough light to see by. Off to one side of the space there was a sleeping mat, and next to it a small iron pot full of various cooking utensils. Most of the ground was covered by an ancient carpet, making it appear like there was actually a floor. At the center of the carpet sat a plate with several unlit candles melted onto it. In the middle of the plate, was a shallow bowl, full of the bones of a small animal – a rabbit or possibly a squirrel. There was a sweet musty stench in the tent, the smell of meat, just as it’s beginning to spoil, mingled with the oniony smell of sweat.
The light from the lanterns and torches outside disappeared when the woman closed the tent’s flap. The single candle struggled to illuminate the space. The old crone hurried around the boys and used the candle’s flame to light the wicks of those on the floor.
“Sit. Sit.” She kindly persuaded.
As they squatted down, and sat cross legged beside each other, Hyden realized that she couldn’t actually be blind to do all these things so proficiently. Could she? At the moment, she was lifting up her bedroll and pulling out a foot long roll of cloth. She brought it with her when she came and joined them around the plate full of candles. She squatted down across from them with the plate and bowl before her.
Both boys were full of excitement, and more than a little trepidation, but they wiggled themselves comfortable. Hyden ended up at her right hand side, and Gerard, fidgety and grinning, was at her left.
