James Galloway: The Tower of Sorcery

Jenna came around the side of the house, her dark hair obviously wet. Her simple brown dress was damp around the collar, and she had it partially unbuttoned at the neck. Jenna was just starting to develop into the attributes of a woman. Twice already their mother had had to let out the bust of her dresses, and she'd thickened around the hips substantially in the last two months alone. Though she had their father's dark hair and features, she was going to have a body like her mother. Tall, buxom, and hippy. Not quite as tall as her mother, but she would be at least a hand taller than any other woman in the village. She would be taller than her father, that much was for certain. Eron Kael was half a head shorter than his wife, and it wasn't because he was short. Eron was one of the taller men in the village. She looked up at him intently.

"It's about time!" she said. "Mother sent me out to get you. We're waiting for you."

"Well, I'm here," he told his younger sister with a grin.

"You got a big one," she said gruffly. The relationship between them was complex. It was cordial, and they truly loved each other, but as siblings do, they tended to fight from time to time. They'd had a rather rousing squabble about whose turn it was to feed the animals earlier. In her present mood, that was the closest thing to a complement he would get.

"Let's get it on the cart and get going," he said without preamble.

"Mother! He's back!" Jenna shouted as she turned around. The cart was out front, with the roan Treader hooked up to it. It was laden with his sword and staff, some of the clothes his mother would sell today, a few kegs and casks of his father's ale and wines, and one of the many bushel of arrows that his father had made during the winter. Eron Kael was even better at fletching than he was at brewing. Twenty years as a Ranger had taught him the art of arrow making unlike anything a standard fletcher could match. Tarrin had watched and learned, and he could make good arrows himself, but they were nothing like his father's. It was the major source of income in the house. The farming, the brewing, these were just supplements or hobbies. Eron Kael's arrows were the major part of the family's income. Men came from as far as Ultern to buy them. He also made bows, but not as often. He stated more than once that he didn't have the patience to make bows much anymore, but one of his bows could be sold for a hundred gold lions to a true archery adherant. It took him a month to make a bow, where he could craft ten arrows a day. Occasionally he got the itch to craft a truly exceptional bow. He would spend up to four months on it, but it was well worth the effort, because those special bows were always incredibly accurate, and most of them had tremendous power. Those he could sell for hundreds of lions.

Tarrin dumped the deer carcass on the cart as his father limped down the porch steps, wearing a simple unbleached wool shirt and leather breeches. He'd injured his leg some twenty years ago, but still managed to carry out his duties as a Ranger by doing it from horseback. He managed it for five years before they pensioned him. Tarrin was born after it happened, so he'd never known his father any other way, but the limp didn't slow him down. He could still fight, was still one of the best shots in the region with a bow, and did more than his share around the farm. The only thing he really couldn't do was run fast. Tarrin mused that he didn't look like he was on the verge of his fiftieth year. He had the graying hair, but he was just as spry and alert as ever, and his hands still had the supple magic in them to craft such excellent bows and arrows. His mother came out behind him, dressed in a ragged blue wool shirt with a hole in one sleeve and leather leggings (which was ever a source of shock and gossip among the women, no matter that they saw her wearing pants for the last twenty years). It wasn't like her to have holes in her clothing. It must have just happened. Then again, by the dark look on her face, she wasn't too happy about something. It could very well be that. The fact that she was carrying her axe was more than enough reason not to ask about it. In fact, it was a good reason not to say anything.

"Nice buck," his father complemented as Tarrin climbed into the back of the cart with Jenna, and he climbed into the driving seat.

"He almost got away," Tarrin admitted.

"Let's get going," Elke Kael said grumpily as she got up into the cart beside her husband and stowed her axe under the seat.

Tarrin knew better than to ask, so he filled the quiet silence with mental images of greeting the Knight, what he would say, how he would convince him that he was worthy of a test in Suld. He also went over the forms and moves of the sword in his head, just the way his father and mother had both taught him. Tarrin much preferred the staff in a fight. It was a long weapon with good reach and good speed, you could use it for multiple tricks and feints, and it only killed when you consciously decided to do so. But Knights didn't use staves too often. The sword or the axe was the common weapon of the Knights, so he had to know how to use them to earn a spot in the Academy. And he did, probably better than anyone in the village except his mother. His father had already admitted that his son was a better swordsman than him.

The hour long cart ride was passed in almost total silence. The silence wasn't unusual for the family, for none of them were particularly gabby to begin with, and time spent in silence was common for them. Tarrin was too busy with his mental preparations at meeting the Knight to even notice any conversation around him. The excitement he'd suppressed to hunt effectively had welled up in him since the finality of the trip to the festivities had taken hold of him. He wondered how often the Knight had to endure boys like him coming up and professing a heart-felt desire to be in the Academy and become a Knight. It was a common boyhood dream across all of Sulasia. Tarrin secretly hoped that he could convince him that he was more than the other boys. He was older, that was true, almost too old to start the training, but he already knew so much. He doubted that, if they knew he'd already had instruction, they would hold his age against him. He had all the physical qualities of a Knight. Strength, size, speed, and endurance. But, unknown to him, he had many of the mental qualities of a Knight as well. He was clever, intelligent, insightful, honest, forthright, and modest.

They came around the familiar bend in the road about an hour later, and the small village of Aldreth slid into view. It was a modest community, the village proper holding about thirty homes and shops, arranged in a loose circular formation around the Village Green, a huge grassy meadow that acted as the hub of a wheel, and was the vital communal area of the villagers and the farmers that surrounded it. Every festival or meeting was held on the Green, since the inn was too small to hold everyone. Festivals were held on the Green, and children made it their playground when it wasn't being officially used. The village was bordered on the far side, the east side, by a wide stream, called Cold Water Creek, and right at the foot of the sturdy bridge over it stood Road's End Inn. Aptly named, for it was the end of the road that led to Torrian. The Green was a bustle of activity as tents and tables were being erected or adjusted, and the smoke of many fires filled the air, as did the smell of roasting meet or simmering stews or open-baked bread. Many merchants from Watch Hill and Torrian, the two towns along the South Road, had arriaved and set up stalls to hawk their wares during the summer festival, and even from their distance, Tarrin could hear them shouting.

They parked the wagon at the edge of the Green, and while his father unhitched and pastured the horse in the inn's stables, Tarrin, Jenna, and their mother picked up the food and things they would need and carried them onto the meadow. Elke spoke to her children tersely, in a voice that warned them both not to do anything that would attract her attention. They found a likely spot near the place where the archery games would take place, then Tarrin was sent back for the table boards as the family's women began setting up. Tarrin met up with his father as he reached the wagon.