The Dorston Fall [Book I in the Dorston Legacy]

Chapter 24 - Larton

Darkness fell, as Katelyn and Sammy crossed into the village. On a slightly smaller scale, the town of Larton resembled greatly to Ashton with its uneven rooftops, wooden shutters and peeling paint work. Larton was a mere speck in the wilderness, as her uncle Rowland had so often referred to it as. Larton was as far as anyone could be from civilization. Most of the buildings were just one level, with some of the more established buildings reaching two. One of them had to the tavern, or at least Katelyn hoped. 

Sammy followed Katelyn down the narrow streets; looking over his shoulder frequently at the slightest sound or suspicious figure that turned out to be his own shadow. The deeper they ventured into the town, the more apparent the sound of laughter and music became. To their unease, they saw no candles lit in the windows as they passed; reaffirming the impression that was everyone was in the town square. 

And they were, dancing around a great bonfire that reached high into the night sky; cackling and popping. On the outskirts of the square, Katelyn crouched down behind a barrel; Sammy following suit. As they watched, trying to decipher what was happening, the townspeople - young and old - jumped, spun, hollered, screamed and marched around the blaze; some bodies moved with profound grace and others were stiff, incredibly awkward. A band played on a platform; drums and pipes bewitching its audience into action. The blistering heat of the flame stretched and reached into every cold corner; brushing harshly against Katelyn and Sammy's cheeks. 

"It's not a public holiday, is it?" she asked softly, listening to the chant-like singing and laughter.

Sammy shrugged. "Not that I'm aware of. Maybe they're celebrating a birth or a marriage."

"No," she dismissed, shaking her head.

"And why not?"

Katelyn rolled her eyes and pointed. "See? There are no banners, no flowers, no mountain of gifts or a cake. For a supposedly happy occasion, it's rather dull. It seems more like a funeral."

Sammy stared at her with a smirk. "Aren't you just a big ball of sunshine?" 

Her gaze fixated on the bonfire, Katelyn reached round and hit Sammy on the back; containing her amusement behind a buttoned lip. With a snort, he quickly returned the gesture by poking her in the ribs. She flinched slightly, almost giving away her ticklish spot, and resisted the urge to knock Sammy on his backside. He should know better than to retaliate. After all, she was better skilled with a blade than he. 

She looked across the blaze, spying the building she hoped was the tavern. "I think that's the tavern over there," she said over the noise of the drums. 

"Right," Sammy grunted, ready for a challenge. "You better get your cloak on."

"No, it will only draw attention. We have to blend in, pretend we belong."

"Are you sure you're up to it?"

Katelyn scowled at Sammy, before getting to her feet and stalking off. With exasperation, he ran hastily after her, the pack and bow bumping across him. They dodged their way through the crowd, keeping their heads down and feet moving ever forward to their destination. Katelyn, suddenly fearful of pickpockets, held her father's sword close; her hold like stone around the hilt. It was reassuring to say the least. 

Then, just as they arrived at the tavern door, a great cheer erupted into the air and Katelyn turned. There, upon the platform now stood a man in black; his young features only made noticeable by the orange glow of the fire. From a distance, he was tall and bulky. His dark hair waved down his shoulders, and his mouth appeared to be in a constant state of frustration. He wasn't one of the Justice, but he might as will be dressed like that, she thought. He silenced the people with one hand and shouted over the cackling of the fire.