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.