market.”
“Ya mighta wanna stop ta Port Galba. Yer ken enjoy da sea, eat good grub, and enjoy a lil fun, iffen ya know whut I mean. I’m purt shur Tarlon don’t have enithin like that.”
“On don’t worry; my men and I are used to simple accommodations. We will actually enjoy setting up camp on the beach and relaxing for a day or two until it is time for us to get back to our duties.”
Crawley came up with a few more feeble arguments to convince Ayron and his men that traveling to the festival would be a useless waste of time, but Ayron had a counterargument ready for his every attempt. Failing to come up with anything that would convince the soldiers not to accompany them, Crawley turned his attention back to his own men, encouraging them to finish dressing so that they could get underway. Once dressed, the motley crew mounted some scraggly undernourished looking ponies, and led the way toward Tarlon. Ayron found it very interesting that Crawley seemed to know which way to go, and didn’t repeat his request for directions. “So much for being lost”, he said to himself and Keroc under his breath.
As they rode, Ayron noticed that all of Crawley’s men had weaponry of much better caliber than was normally carried by farmers and merchants. And these men, who claimed to be merchants and farmers, carried no goods with them to sell in Tarlon. His conclusion was that they were most likely either soldiers from Avrelan’s army or mercenaries for hire. Of even more concern was that these men were going to great lengths to hide who they were and what they were really up to. He fell back a bit to share his observations with his second-in-command, Thane, who agreed with him that something was amiss. After observing Crawley and his men for a bit and discussing the inconsistencies in their story, they came to the conclusion that the group of men they were traveling with looked more like they were planning some sort of trouble, than going to a village for some fun and frivolity. And, if they were really headed to Tarlon, they could be putting more in jeopardy than Avrelan’s treaty with Silvendil.
Chapter 3 – Differences
E lwyn was interrupted from her thoughts by a sharp pain. Lost in reflection, she neglected to see a rather large shell lying directly in her path and tripped over it, stubbing her toe as she did. As she kicked at the shell sending it skittering far down the sandy beach, she was again reminded of how different she was than other girls her age. She’d grown taller than most of the adult villagers, including her uncle, by the time she was twelve. And, to her great dismay, she was built more like a young boy of twelve than a blossoming maiden of sixteen. The leather pants and tunic she wore while hunting looked more becoming and felt more comfortable than the pretty skirt and blouse she was wearing for the celebration today.
Over the past few seasons, Elwyn came to realize that she lacked the necessary attributes properly fill out feminine attire. That fact alone made it very difficult for her to mingle with the other young women who had been arriving all day in Tarlon for the celebration. She hated the fact that she was expected by her uncle to participate in social situations, like today’s festival. They made her feel unfeminine, unattractive, and unprepared to deal with life.
Something else that made it difficult for her to fit in with other young people was that she was much stronger, faster, and a more accomplished marksman than most, if not all, of them. She had also already beaten many of the young men in open archery competitions. She was aware that her uncle and Clayre spent a considerable amount of time in heated discussions over her astonishing abilities when she was younger. Her uncle seemed to be of two minds when it came to how she should be trained and educated. He was adamant that she be taught how to fight, hunt, and survive the harsh conditions of the forest. At the same time her