The Swans' War 1 - The One Kingdom by Sean Russell Read Free Book Online

wanderers' colorful carts. On the high seat Tam could see a man and woman, raven-black hair wafting in the breeze funneling down the gorge. Black wanderers the people of the Vale called them, for the color of their hair and eyes. Fever bringers they were called as well, for the night fever they were said to have spread across the land between the mountains.” I would say it is safe for us to venture out," Fynnol said, heaving himself up the rock and down into the running river. He looked back up at the others, grinning.” I don't think even brave brigands would risk angering our wandering friends.""Do not assume they are friends, Fynnol," Tarn cautioned as he followed his cousin into the water.” These might not be the Fael we know."The current took hold of Tarn and carried him quickly down to the path—the place he had shot a man the night before—but if blood had been spilled upon the rocks, the river had washed them clean. The events of the night seemed unreal suddenly, as though it had all been a bad dream and nothing more. The path seemed especially steep after a cold night spent cramped and frightened. Fynnol stopped once to rest. Eventually they emerged into a clearing just as one of the great carts rolled by.
    No matter how many times he saw the massive horses of the Fael, Tam could not get used to them. The largest draft horses bred in the Vale stood eighteen hands, and these were full four hands taller, and some were six! At the shoulder they stood a foot taller than Baore.
    Darkhaired children ran along beside the carts, and one—a girl of ten or twelve—took hold of the turning wheel, as tall as a man, and placing her feet quickly on the rim, turned a full circle before letting go. The origin of the cartwheel, Tam thought.
    Up on the high seat of the wagon the older folk rode, awash in sunshine. Tam always thought the Fael, in their bright flowing clothes and tinkling jewelry, looked like birds of the air compared to the dull colors of the men and women of the Vale. And like the birds, they traveled to and fro across the land between the mountains, coming north in spring and returning to the distant south before winter.
    Shiftless vagabonds and worse they were called by the hardworking people of the Vale, though never to their faces. The curse of a wanderer was feared.
    Usually the Fael kept to themselves, but once a party of them had been caught by an early and nasty winter and had struggled through to the Vale, where they had wintered in the haylofts of various barns, unsettling many of the inhabitants, though fascinating a few. More than one young woman had lost her heart to the travelers' charms, and more than one Valeman made a fool of himself over a Fael woman. And Tam understood why. Had he not been only a boy he would have likely done the same himself. But the Fael had their own sense of honor, and the people of the Vale—their "rescuers"—they treated differently ever after. Not that the people of the Vale were welcomed into the world of the Fael, but at least they weren't treated with the disdain the Fael reserved for others. One of the massive carts pulled up as Tam and his companions appeared, the great horse taking a few steps to stop, like a ship under way. The Fael who drove the cart looked down on them guardedly.” You must be Valemen," he said.” I had heard your dress was shabby but. . ." The Valemen noticed their clothing for the first time: wet, torn, and filthy. The Fael children scurried up onto the high seat beside him, gazing with intense curiosity at the strangers. The Fael said a single word in his own tongue to his wife, who laughed and then quickly covered her mouth.” And I had heard the Fael were more polite to people who had saved their lives," Fynnol said quickly.” And that is true. But you have never saved mine or anyone in my family's. And you smell like the river." The man smiled at Fynnol.” I assume you are lost," he said, and pointed off down the road.” The