Free The Call of the Crown (Book 1) by T.J. Garrett Page B

when he leaned on his long cane. He was clean-shaven and had smartly combed golden hair —long, with just a touch of grey at the temple, and kept back in a ponytail by a thin leather tie. The cut and style of his clothing led Daric to conclude he was no labourer, miner, or farmer—those were the common trades in Ealdihain. Otherwise, he looked quite average, especially when compared to his friend. However, he did have a strange sense of calm about him, as though he had travelled far, seen much, and had come away the wiser for it.
    Daric looked over the two men with his guardsman’s eye. Helpful or not, he wasn ’t a man to accept strangers easily, no matter how gracious their first meeting may have been. Something about the two unsettled him, most notably, their weapons!
    “Why are you so at arms?” Daric pointed at the weapons he carried. “Sword, knife, bow, axe—are you expecting trouble?”
    Olam laughed. “By Ein’laig, no!” he said, taking up the sword and knife by their hilts. “These belong to my friend here. I carry them in exchange for him carrying my pack, a fair trade I would say. The bow is mine; the axe is for cutting firewood.”
    His reasoning settled Daric a little.
    Olam continued. “No, sir, we are most certainly not looking for trouble. Arfael and I are here in hopes of finding travel companions. We heard a group might be journeying east. In my experience, it is always better travelling in a group.”
    Daric nodded and eased his stance a little, feeling, as it were, calmed by Olam’s manner and explanation. Still, his surprise at coming across such a man as Arfael left him ill at ease. He knew nothing of his race—if indeed there were such a people. Maybe it is just him. Perhaps he is Surabhan and just born that way. As was with most folk, Daric had a tendency to worry about what he didn’t know.
    He was, however, a curious man and not a bit rude. The two were an interesting pair, to say the least, and they appeared, on the face of it, genuine in their intentions. He certainly had no reason to doubt their character too much.
    “I think you mean us,” Daric said. “We’re travelling to Bailryn for the recruitment festival. My son may wish to apply.”
    Daric gestured over towards Gialyn, who had barely taken his eyes off Arfael. Daric gave him a disapproving gaze. Shaking his head, he silently mouthed, Stop staring!
    “A worthy endeavour, young man,” Olam said, nodding approvingly at Gialyn. “Service to your country is an honourable endeavour if ever there was one.” He turned his gaze back upon Daric. “I do not mean to impose on you, sir. I realise it may seem an u nusual proposition, but I would appreciate it if you would give some thought to my request. It could be to your advantage. We know the road well and would be glad of the company.”
    Grady—who was listening intently while also staring at Arfael—moved up to Daric’s side . “Can I… uh… have a word?” he asked. He looked at Olam. “Would you… just a moment?”
    “Of course,” Olam said, bowing. He backed off, respectfully waiting just out of earshot.
    Grady waited for Olam and Arfael to move. He turned his back on the two. “I’m not sure about this. They look an odd couple. I know they came to the rescue, but… that… that… err… what is his name? Alf—Aufrea… the big man! I have never seen the like. And I don't mind saying that it bothers me."
    Daric paused a minute to consider. “Let’s not judge too quickly, Grady. He is right! It is safer travelling as a group. I think they have proven themselves friendly, strange or not.” Daric gave a sideways glance at Arfael before continuing. “Let’s be honest. Would you argue with … Alfred is it?” Daric laughed.
    “I suppose not,” Grady said. “It may just be that I prefer not to travel with a man who could beat me to a pulp in less than a blink.” Grady laughed as well.
    The two men were pondering their thoughts when Elspeth and