In every corner of every space, wagers were being made, and stories about the two combatants were being told. Hyden had watched the Lion Lord win his battle against the Valleyan Stallion a few years ago. It was a long and brutal fight. The Lion had outlasted the Valleyan. He won with a late flourish of hammer blows. Hyden remembered vividly, the screams and cheers of the onlookers, and the curses from those who had lost their wagers. There had been a dozen more fights in the crowd after the Brawl had ended. Hyden remembered being afraid that he and his father wouldn’t get free of the mass of people without being pummeled to death.
Gerard hadn’t been old enough to go to harvest that year, and their mother had kept him at the selling tent during the Brawl. Hyden would never forget the bond he and his father had formed that year. Hyden had only harvested one lousy egg, and had been teased to tears on the long walk back from the harvest lodge to the festival. His father had held that single egg out until all the others had been sold. Then, he had acted like an auctioneer between three potential buyers. When the deal was done, Harrap had handed Hyden a fat little sack of gold, patted him on the head and said, “Your single egg was the best egg of the whole harvest, son.” That one egg had sold for what three eggs had sold for earlier that day. No one in the Skyler Clan dared make fun of Hyden’s one egg harvest after that.
When Hyden made it back to the clan’s group of tents and pavilions, his pleasant memories were shattered. His father’s mood, and now Uncle Condlin’s, were foul over being tricked into selling eggs to a spell worker, and it made Hyden want to hurry away. He only stayed long enough to feed and tend the hawkling chick.
The women of the clan were selling beaded jewelry and woven blankets that they had made during the year, and some pelts that the men had hunted and trapped over the last winter. He asked them if anyone had seen Gerard, and he complimented a particular bracelet that his mother had made.
No one had seen Gerard for awhile. After searching this whole side of the upriver Way, where his clan had more less taken over, Hyden decided to go buy his brother a wizard’s hat and a good pair of horse hide boots like he had promised. On his way from the clan’s area, he was cornered by two of his uncles. They interrogated him about the culling, and warned him not to get drunk, or injured, between now and the competition. They gave advice, and though he didn’t want to think on the matter, he listened politely and promised that he would do his best. Eventually, he broke free of them and went out into the Ways.
Later, he found himself searching for Gerard. He wanted to treat his brother to the special seats he had managed to acquire for the Brawl. When that was over, he would give his brother the presents he had bought for him.
He looked for Gerard in a few places, and then he saw the silver-haired old wizard’s pavilion and decided that Gerard would’ve been tempted by such a display. He was disappointed when he didn’t find Gerard there.
On the way out of the fancy tent, he turned towards the Spire, and ran face first into a pair of fully armored men. He mumbled an apology, tried to step around them, but they mirrored his side step, and continued to block his way. Hyden immediately recognized the white rectangular patch over their breasts. It had a black sword running across it like a stripe. It was the banner of the Blacksword Warriors of Highwander. A shiver of fear ran through him. These were Willa the Witch Queen’s men. It was said that she fed her enemies to her soldiers in their stew. Others said that her men cooked the dead right on the battlefield and ate them on their own. At the moment, Hyden wholly believed it. One of the men was smiling wickedly, showing a mouthful of jagged, half rotted teeth. They looked to be pointed at the ends like fangs, and both of the men smelled of sweat and filth.
Hyden tried to get around them again, but one of them moved to block his way a second time.
“You want to pass?” The man snarled. His breath smelled worse than his clothes. “A pint will get you by.” The man chuckled and elbowed his companion.
Hyden was just about to turn and run to his clan’s section of the Way, when a sharp boot tip came up between the man’s legs from behind. It caught him just under the cod-piece, and doubled him over with a grunt. The other Blacksword soldier drew his sword and whirled to face the attacker. He wasn’t fast enough. A Raven haired woman, who moved as fast as a mongoose, pushed the point of her dagger into the man’s throat.
“Go find someone else to bully Barton!” She commanded. Then she pushed him away as if he were a child.
The wide-eyed soldier grabbed his doubled over companion’s shoulder plate and hauled him to his feet. It was obvious that he recognized and feared the woman, and the two men took special care to avoid Hyden, as they eased into the crowd and disappeared.
“Shaella,” Gerard spoke as he stepped out from behind her. “This is my brother Hyden. Hyden, Shaella Ga’shen from Dakahn.”
“Thank you,” Hyden said stupidly. He was dumbfounded. He couldn’t imagine how Gerard had come upon this beautiful woman, much less how he had managed to gain her acquaintance.
“You’re most welcome, Dar Hyden,” she replied in her heavily accented voice. She threw in a little head bow with her words that made Hyden feel even more out of place than he already did. But what she did next mystified him completely.