***
The trading square of Bruvaal village was framed by various shops, including the inn, a bakery, the meeting hall, the bailiff's compound, and a few other stores selling general goods. Between some of the shops were huge majestic pines. Their needled boughs dappled over half of the open ground with shade, giving the center of the village an inviting, rustic charm.
For the Vale Fest, low branches and storefronts were decorated with simple triangles. The small ornaments were turned to one side so that there was a high, mid, and low point. It was the symbol of the Church of the Triad, representing the Sky, the Vale, and the Deep. Some of the people of Bruvaal still secretly prayed to the old gods, but went along with the Triad rituals to keep peace in the community. The effort also kept the old Triad cleric from whining.
The fest was underway when Stenhelt and his family arrived before midday with their cart. The long tables were already out, children ran and yelled in the gathering crowd, and the aroma of various foods wafted through the cool air. On a bench outside of the meeting hall, two villagers sat and played lively tunes with flute and fiddle. A long, banked fire near the center water well was set to warm the pots of donated food. The square was much busier than any market day.
Baraide stayed near their wagon, chatting with other village women while she sold leather goods and bone necklaces. Halivik and his eldest son sampled some food and cups of ale before they joined in the simple game of stone-throw. Wise villagers didn't wager against Tull, and laughed at those who did after the young man sent the large river rock sailing through the air.
Stenhelt, never an especially social boy, milled through the happy crowd on his own to keep an eye out for his sister. There was little need; every adult was protective of the village children. Sten nonetheless kept track while Iri played with others near her own age. His meandering also allowed him to sidle closer to the innkeeper's daughter, Annori. That he could remember, Sten always had trouble turning away from the sight of the girl.
Lady Tovira arrived with six wagons full of extended family and baskets of food. Space had been reserved for Bruvaal's most prestigious resident; the Lady's ox-pulled wagons lined up as her relatives handed out loads of vegetables and barrels of cider. Tovira herself handed out casks of wine, a drink that was usually only served at the tables of nobles and royalty.
After helping set out baskets of strawberries and mushrooms, Silga jogged back the short road past the inn to one of her Aunt Tovi's wagons. Stashed under a gunnysack was a pouch of sun-dried apple chips she hoped to share with Sten, whom she'd become increasingly intrigued with. She liked how he'd grown more confident and independent, with an alluring air of mystery.
Silga often wondered why Sten continued to visit Oma-Krin manor as often as he did. Their common lessons had been completed over a cycle ago, so there was another reason why he stopped by every few days or so. Only occasionally did Sten show up with a deer or a few rabbits, and never bartered for them, so he wasn't hired as the manor's hunter. He was too young for that, anyway. Silga often saw Sten and her Aunt Tovi speaking at length as they strolled through a field or sat on the front porch. Their topics remained a secret.
Just as Silga was whimsically hoping that Sten made his visits to see her but was too shy to say so, her daydream was interrupted by voices behind her. Two young men, both a few cycles past the age of courting, came quickly upon her and asked what was in the pouch. She vaguely recognized them; sons of one of the sheepherders, and so they didn't visit the village often.
Trouble was in their eyes and leering smiles, Silga was sure. They moved close, looming over her. One of the men was asking what she had for them; the other touched her hair and complimented her dress. The brothers were aggressive, making them even uglier than they normally would have been. They both spoke to her at the same time, adding confusion to the girl's fear. They appeared to enjoy her increasing anxiety.
A clipped growl interrupted the two men. As they turned their heads, a figure violently slammed into them. One of the brothers was knocked hard to the snowy ground. The other stumbled away and steadied himself against the back wall of the fabric shop. The defender crouched in front of Silga, facing the two men with a lingering rumble in his throat.
Silga initially thought the village baker had come to her rescue; he was a bulky man with hairy arms. A quick glance told her she was wrong. The baker had a pot belly and was balding; her rescuer looked fit and powerful with a wild mane of black hair. The baker also didn't have long nails sharpened to points like an animal, as the man in front of her had. Despite his ill-fitting clothes, her rescuer seemed very familiar. There was no time to be sure of anything, though. It all happened so quickly in front of her.
Without warning, Silga's defender pounced on the nearest man and began battering him with fists and claws. The other brother hurried back over and began kicking at the black-haired man. Silga was crying and yelling, unsure of her own words. Her defender finally sat up, caught the next kick, and bit deeply into the attacker's calf with a snarl.
Howling in pain, the man stumbled back. His thin cotton leggings were stained with blood. He began to fall, but a large hand suddenly grabbed the nape of his neck. That hand belonged to big Tullgar. He held the man nearly off the ground in a vice grip, and then tossed him away without effort. He then stepped forward and pulled Silga's defender off of the other man with ease.
Standing in front of Silga, Tull held the black-haired man around the chest with one powerful arm and murmured a few words in his ear. He then said to the downed brothers, "You're bad people. Go away, or I'll let my brother loose." Heeding the threat, the limping man helped his beaten and bloody brother to his feet, and they hobbled away as quickly as they could.
Silga was shocked, unable to believe her defender was Sten. He seemed so big, so wild - nothing like the respectful, quiet, handsome boy she knew. Her Aunt Tovi suddenly called from nearby, viewing the scene with curious eyes. "Silga, are you safe, child?" she asked. The girl nodded, wiped her eyes, and hurried over to the woman's side. "Tull," Tovira then called out, "is there a problem here?"
Flustered by the situation, he couldn't think of how to respond. When his mother appeared next to Lady Tovira with a concerned look, his mind only muddled further. With an arm still clamped around his brother, Tull tried to think of the words to explain. None came.
Sten tapped his brother's thick arm and whispered, "You're squeezing, Tull." Once his brother's grip went slack, he turned and put a hand up on his shoulder. "I'm calm now. Thank you." Then, looking over to his mother, Silga and Lady Tovira, Sten said, "It was just a scuffle. Tull came and made the men leave. Are you alright, Silga?"
Still shaken, the girl stayed pressed to her Aunt's side and simply nodded. She saw Sten as she remembered him, not as the powerful savage from a few moments before. Silga couldn't make sense of the trick her eyes played on her. As fear faded, confusion took its place.
Tovira and Baraide shared a quick glance just as the bailiff's guard approached. To avoid his meddling, Baraide gave orders to her sons. Sten was to sit in the inn for a time; Tull was told to go keep an eye on Iri. The guard sauntered off. Tovira promised Baraide that later in the day she would explain to her and Halivik what she saw.
Silga began to smile as she walked with her Aunt back to the lively village square. Sten had come to her rescue, fighting like a wild warrior against two older boys - men, really. To her, it could have only meant that his feelings for her were strong. He wasn't the kind to show much emotion, but her hero's brave actions were proof enough. She was giddy for the rest of the day.
Tovira rejoined the villagers in their revelry, but was preoccupied with what she'd seen Stenhelt become for a short time. Attacking one of the sheepherder's sons, the young man had changed into something akin to a beast. His body had expanded to near Tull's size, and his features were warped. In a few blinks of an eye, though, he was young Sten again. Tovira recalled Halivik's words from years back, and they matched what she'd seen. It was no
Maker's trick, nor even a higher power of a master's path. Sten showed something new... and dangerous.