Children of the Wind

"We go where the wind takes us."

— Wydlings saying‏‏‎

‏‏‎ ‎

Great myths were associated with the Wydlings. Travelling performers and troupers were aplenty, but when someone mentioned "wind" and "children," there was only one group they could be referring to.

A Wydling, a child of the wind, was said to know all the stories in the world and beyond.

Any trouper could tell stories from books, but only the eldest of the Travelling Folk still remembered tales from the First Age, passed on by word of mouth.

Entertainment wasn't the only thing the Children were known for, however. Some said they carried techniques from ancient civilisations: blade and bow techniques, magic to bloom a flower, and poultices that could cleanse a festering wound. Some said they were demonspawn who made pacts with evil spirits. That last thought lingered in his mind as Ein crested the hill overlooking the camp.

"They looked more impressive from further away," Evaine murmured from beside him.

"Mother says you shouldn't judge a race of people by their appearance," Cinnamin said.

There were about five tents in total, each with a domed top dipped in sunny splashes of green and gold. Three wagonfuls of barrels and crates stood to one side, presumably containing supplies and tradeable wares, and they were watched by two merry men armed with swords. Ein counted seven horses around the campsite, tough little creatures with a wild beauty to them.

Horses of the Wind weren't the fastest mounts, but they were more resilient than the six-legged Orstreds and said to be capable of walking to the ends of the earth without stopping. The Wydlings themselves walked around the camp in travel-stained garments of all types and makes; some in sprightly shirts and pants, some in dresses and skirts, some in exquisite satin and silk, but all dyed the green and gold of their company down to the boots.

A group of men hammered pins into the ground beside one of the main tents while another tended to the horses. Although they acted jauntily, it was clear from their movements that they'd been on the road for a while.

"Are you sure we should be disturbing them?" Ein asked. "They'll be tired from their trip. They need to rest before performing tomorrow."

Cinnamin gave him a pleading look. Evaine tossed her head dismissively.

"Let's go closer," she said. "I can barely see anything."

Without waiting for a response, she clambered back down the hill with light steps. Ein sighed and followed her, pulling Cinnamin along. They shuffled across the dirt, taking cover in the underwood until they reached the edge of the lake. A large thicket of trees hid them from the campsite.

"They don't look like anything special," Cinnamin said.

"What were you expecting?" Ein asked. "Men and women ten feet tall with glowing eyes?"

Cinnamin pursed her lips. "No… but they look just like me and you. I didn't think they'd be so ordinary."

One of the women sat against a gnarled tree, tuning the strings of her lute. Her eyes were closed, her slender fingers plucking a single note over and over again as her other hand turned the pins. Another man rested on a patch of grass, a feathered cap pulled over his eyes. Ein felt his eyes grow heavy as he watched them.

Evaine stood up, startling him.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Getting a better view."

Ein frowned. "If you're really that curious, just go up and talk to them. There's no point to sneaking around like a thief."

"I want to watch them for a while first," Evaine said. "I want to see how they behave differently to us."

"They're people too, just like you and me. What's there to see?"

"They aren't afraid to move from place to place. They aren't afraid of the unknown. I'd think that's reason enough to believe they're different."

Evaine circled around behind the trees, and Ein followed. A group of young men played cards on a crate, eating from a bag of honeyed nuts and slinging insults at each other in a well-natured manner. One man sharpened a shortsword. The horses watched silently as Ein and the two girls passed.

"They look so happy," Evaine said.

"How do they earn money if they just lounge around all day?" Cinnamin asked.

"They perform," Ein answered. "Performing is their job, and an hour of performance earns more money than an hour of farming."

"That sounds like much more fun than what we do. Why can't we become troupers?"

"That's a very good question. You're smart for your age." Evaine smiled, causing Cinnamin to flush.

"It's a dangerous life," Ein countered. "You have to travel without clear knowledge of roads while worrying about food and water. Bandits, highwaymen, and all manner of beasts roam the country outside the Sleeping Twins."

"How would you know if you haven't been?" Evaine asked.

Before Ein could answer, a loud splash startled him. He turned around and ducked without thinking, hiding behind a large bush. Evaine and Cinnamin joined him.

They'd moved around to the other side of the camp where the Brackenburg River streamed from the lake. The splash had come from the riverbank, but as far as Ein could see, there was nothing there. The river had been teeming with life before the start of the Great Winter, but the temperatures had dropped so far that it often froze a few nights a week. Most of the fish had travelled downstream, leaving behind the valley for warmer regions.

Ein reached for the knife at his side, holding his breath. The splash had been too loud to be a mere fish. It had sounded like a beast of some kind—a horse perhaps, or a wolf… or a relict.

He was just about to suggest starting back when the surface bubbled and a man burst from the depths in a geyser of gleaming droplets. He stood waist-deep in the river wearing nothing at all, rivulets of water streaming down a bronze body that could have been carved from stone. His eyes were dark and deep, his braided hair swept behind his ears like a mass of wriggling tadpoles.

He flexed his arms and shook his head, sending water flying across the riverbank. Ein heard Evaine gasp from beside him as the man took a few steps to the bank, enough for the waterline to sink below his waist. He couldn't imagine how cold the river must be.

"He's massive," she murmured. "Almost twice your size."

Ein hurriedly covered Cinnamin's eyes. "I don't recall ever flaunting my wares in front of you."

Cinnamin struggled to pull his hands away, but he held on tight. Evaine glanced sideways at Ein with a smirk. "Remember when we used to swim here? Your little pecker was smaller than my pinkie."

"That was over ten years ago. Things grow."

The man emerged from the river like a glistening god, striding over to where his belongings lay on a patch of grass untouched by the snow. He picked up a towel and began drying himself.

"Let's go," Ein said. "It's wrong to spy on people like this."

"Oh, come on. You know you'd do the same if it were a woman in his place."

"You're out of your mind."

The man finished drying himself and pulled a tight-fitting shirt on, a green vest with golden stripes running down the sides. As he thrust his foot through one of his trouser legs he turned in the direction where Ein and Evaine were hiding. His eyes locked onto Ein's as if there was no brush between them.

"Do you like what you see?" he smirked.