This is my first try at creative writing, so constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. While there are no erotic scenes in this chapter, do not worry, they will come along.
*****
It had been a number of seasons since the winter had been so mild in K'launor valley. The merchant houses had swiftly taken action to get their wares across the mountain range which was nearly impassable during the coldest times of the year. Every ten to twenty miles there were caravans nestled together for protection and to give rest to the draft animals. Travelers had no difficulties in gaining passage or work with a caravan if they were willing to either empty their purses, or work as guards.
"We should make good time brother; the horses are young and fresh. Plus, the wind is at our back." Morlek the merchant had been an obvious choice for Klu'xsa-Mren. The man obviously enjoyed life, this was reflected in his girth as his clothing always seemed ready to burst at the seems. But he had a way of treating his employees as if he was the one protecting them and not the other way around.
"I already told you Morlek, I'm no brother. In blood or in faith."
This made the merchant look at the new addition to his caravan with a crooked eye. The man obviously had no money by the way he was dressed. A Simple commoner's garb was his only clothing, at least until a few days ago when Morlek had bought him some furs for the journey. Even in his situation, Tarlen's physique looked as if he followed a rigorous training schedule, every muscle on the man's body were so defined; it was as if the man was a statue that suddenly came to life. The young man obviously had blood of the west. His skin was more tanned then any individual from the region, his nose slightly broader than usual, and the darkness of his brows, hair and unshaven face was the last signs.
'
But he has the brow of a Rimurian, that is not mistakable, the squareness of his jaw as well.
' On their first meeting, he had thought that he could have been a monastic monk, but he quickly dismissed this idea, as he had none of the elaborate body markings, or shaved head that were associated with the Brothers of Zklaren. He had only asked for food and shelter as payment which suited the merchant just fine.
"What should I call you then? I won't be calling you by that strange name. It hurts me to even think about it."
"If you have too, call me Tarlen".
With that comment, the merchant nodded his head and the conversation came to an end.
Morlek was a simple man; it didn't take long for Tarlen to choose him as the caravan merchant he would accompany along the passage. His easy going nature could be spotted in short time for anyone that paid attention. By the state of his caravan, the merchant obviously needed the extra help at low cost. Having failed on previous ventures, he was trying to establish trade in exotic housewares from the western kingdom of Hlanem.
He knew that Morlek also dealt in other lucrative exports that weren't of the simple or legal sort, but the merchant didn't openly admit that he sold the drugs in which was only grown and available in the same kingdom. But even so the man's generosity was reflected in his size. Having being recently separated from his
toira
, Tarlen needed passage across the valley and the merchant seemed the best choice.
'It's been over ten years, but it's hardly changed. '
*****
"Tarl! Stop daydreaming and come here."
At hearing his father's commanding voice, the young boy stopped looking at how the snowflakes were dancing in the wind on the path ahead of them and ran towards his father at the head of the caravan. Normally at this time of the year, Tarl would be at home spending the winter with his father in their small hovel, but due to the tempering of the weather, his father had found employment with a wealthy caravan merchant who was willing to chance the passage to sell his wares across the valley. Since as early he could remember Tarl idolized his father, he was a man that said very little but when he spoke his words had weight and wisdom behind them. Looking at his father, he realized that he must have taken most of his features from is mother. While his father had strong facial features, with a brow and jaw that seemed to come out directly from his face and with the accompanied traditional thick dirty blond long beard and mane of the Rimurians, Tarl on the other hand had midnight black hair. His facial features were much softer, it seemed as if they blended in to each other, as opposed to coming out like his father's.
He never got to know his mother, his father said that she had been killed by a Slaurian raid party months after his birth.
"Go on and look at how the horses are doing. Our
generous
employer is pushing the caravan too hard to get his wares across."
The young boy started the routine that he had come accustomed to in the past week, it gave him a sense of importance and that he was not only extra weight for his father. Even at his age, Tarl noticed the hint of disgust in his father's voice. His father had told the merchant that the weather would hold until their return trip, but the Al'albinian still pressed the caravan until the horses couldn't go on and men fell asleep at the saddle.
Checking on the horses, he saw early signs of weariness in their breath and movements but decided not to mention them as he usually did; he already knew that it would only irritate his father even more.
"They're fine father, they spotted mare at the end seems to be doing much better than yesterday."
The older man smiled and did a slight nod of his head.
"Tell me Tarl, how do you know this?"
The boy tilted his head downward in concentration.
'I know she's better, I could just tell by looking at her. But how do I explain it.'
Johannes noted how his son was concentrating on answering him. He already knew that the mare was better. He had reapplied poultice to her injured leg this morning.
'He knows it, but doesn't know why. That's good. He just has to find a way to explain to people who can't see it.'
"It's because...she seems to take longer strides and doesn't twitch as much on her injured leg?"
