“Thank you,” he managed to get out of his mouth, before his worried father scooped him up into his arms. Tears of loving relief streamed down the Elder’s face as he wordlessly toted his boy back to his mother. Seeing that his son was also all right, Harrap went back with the others. His terrified people needed him more than Hyden did at the moment.
Some of the Elders of the Skyler Clan began negotiating with a knot of Redwolf soldiers. The Elders wanted the clansmen to be protected, and their possessions guarded, while they gathered up their belongings and prepared to depart the festival. They also wanted a safe passage guaranteed, at least until they were in the foothills of the Giant Mountains. The guards wanted to comply. The amount of gold the clan offered them was more than sufficient, but the Wildermont soldiers were far too honorable to shirk their duty for handfuls of coin. They did, however, send a man to find a certain commander, who was greedy enough to agree to such a quasi noble and profitable undertaking. The Skyler Clan was asked to wait there, where there was little fighting going on, while a few of the Redwolf guardsmen went with some of the Elders to protect the clan tents and other belongings. The rest of them huddled together on the archery range amid the Wildermont soldiers while around them chaos ran rampant.
Just a few hundred paces away, a sizable battle raged on. Hyden watched as swords, fists, daggers, and even farm tools were used openly to kill and maim. Men were dying right there, in the rich, green grass of the sacred Leif Greyn Valley. A lot of the kingdom’s folk were involved. Hyden saw the Golden Lion of Westland flying from a flagstaff amid one group of engaged fighters. A small band of Valleyan horsemen displayed their kingdom’s shield and stallion on their breasts proudly, as they tore into the Westland flank. An organized troop of Seawardsmen, with the rising sun emblem of their kingdom painted on their shields, was tangled in with the rest of the mob. The bulk of the combatants were common folk though. They were fighting right there among the trained soldiers, and dying in droves. Hyden realized then, that he didn’t see the Blacksword banner of Highwander anywhere anymore. He scanned the area around the tournament field, paying special attention to where those first arrows had been fired from. He didn’t see the banner anywhere. They had started all of this, or at least tendered the spark to flame. Now, they were nowhere to be seen. Hyden realized that other than the one time out on the Ways that the two Highwander men had harassed him, he hadn’t seen any people from that kingdom at the festival at all. He searched his mind for another instance where he had seen the Highwander men, but could only come up with the large encampment his Clan had spotted south of the festival grounds on their way here from the egg harvest.
It occurred to him then, that Shaella’s group had been camped very near that area. She was the one who had sent the two rude Blacksword soldiers scurrying away in the Ways. Had Willa the Witch Queen started this? He asked himself. Or was it something else? Hyden knew very little about kingdom folk and their strange ways, but he knew that spilling all of this blood on the sacred ground of the Leif Greyn Valley was a violation of some ancient pact that all the races of the realm had made with the dragons. At least that’s what Berda the Giantess had told him once.
“I am Vaegon,” The elven archer said. The elf put his hand out and placed his palm over Hyden’s heart.
Hyden recalled that the gesture was the elven equivalent of the kingdom men’s handshake, and mimicked the action.
“Hyden,” he said, as he held out his hand. He was confused by the events taking place around him. The elf’s strange eyes, yellow, where a human’s were white, unnerved him as well. He had never looked into the eyes of an elf from this close before, and was surprised by how wild they looked.
“Hyden Hawk!” Vaegon corrected, with what might have been a smile on his fair face.
One of the other elves gently picked up Talon and offered him to Hyden.
“This is my father Drent.” Vaegon nodded towards the elf that was holding the hawkling. “And this is my brother Deiter.” He indicated the third elf.
Hyden placed Talon on his shoulder, and then made the stiff arm greeting gesture to the other two elves in turn. He noticed that Drent, the father, looked as young as either of his sons. The only discernible difference Hyden could see, was that his hair was a silvery blue, the color of deep ice, where the two brothers’ hair had a tint of gold to the silver. All three of the elves were a hand span shorter than Hyden was, and though they were a bit on the thin side, they moved with an obvious strength and grace.
“I am honor bound to you now Hyden Hawk,” Vaegon said, as if the words tasted slightly bitter. “You saved my life. I am at your service.”
Behind Vaegon, Drent nodded proudly at his son’s acceptance of his honor debt. Deiter’s expression showed plainly his disgust at the idea, and Hyden couldn’t meet the elf’s frightening narrowed gaze.