Cambolton's Fall

Chapter Seven

"So how old are you lad?"

Price didn't seem to stop talking or asking questions. "I'm twenty three." Brin answered shortly. He could only be so irritated though. Even though he didn't like to talk personally, he was learning more about to the group and Price was making everyone a bit more talkative.

"And you?" He had shifted in his saddle to look at Gavira.

He went through the group one by one. Gavira being twenty three, Bard was twenty one and Warrel was eighty six.

"Woah!" Price made an exaggerated movement in his saddle that made it look like he was about to fall off his horse. "I didn't know we had Father Time with us on this adventure."

"My age just shows my wisdom and experience in life." Warrel sagged into his saddle a bit more. Though the retort was said with a smile, Brin had a feeling that the older man hated his old age. So interesting how magic use will make a human live longer. Though he's old, he moves and looks as if he were only a bit older than Price.

"I've always thought it interesting how you Talented fellows live so much longer. It's rather common for you to live past two hundred isn't it? I once heard of a Common, like myself, living to be past ninety, but even that's a bit far fetched."

Warrel nodded in response, taking a drink from his mug. If you were thinking in terms of his total life expectancy, he wasn't even halfway through his years even though he was in his eighties. "How about you Price, how old are you?"

"I turned forty two last fall!" Brin could tell that he had the opposite reaction from Warrel. He claimed his age with pride and a large smile.

Brin spoke for the first time that morning then, "You said that you're a Common? Does that mean you have no magical potential?" Brin continued to watch the man's movements.

Head shaking back and forth, Price smiled at Brin. "Not a lick of magic in my bones." He gestured around him with his arms wide, his cloak falling off of his shoulders as they spread. "I like to think that I have a better appreciation for the natural way of things because of that." His smile was so genuine that it was hard to resist mirroring.

Gavira's mumbled retort could barely be heard over the crunching of horse hooves on snow, "I can appreciate how damn cold it is even with The Source running through my bones, thank you very much."

Cutting back to the conversation, Brin said to Price, "But they still let you guard the king?" Brin was confused by this.

Gavira's head slowly turned to Brin, watching him with a dangerous glint in her eyes. "Do you have any idea how rude that is?" she asked.

Brin cocked his head to the side, "What?"

"Oh don't worry about it, I don't mind at all." Price's cheery response cut through the two. "Yes lad, they still let me protect the king even without a magical edge in combat. I know my shortcomings though, which is why I trained harder than anyone else in my class in the sword and bow. I can hold my own against a foe."

Brin nodded, the conversation moving exactly where he'd wanted. "Right, combat. You're skilled with a blade and bow, can you use a stick?"

It was Price's turn to be confused the. His forehead wrinkled at the center and his eye raised toward the sky. "A stick? I suppose I could swing one around if I needed to, though I always have my sword on me."

Brin shook his head. "No no, the pointed stick that your people use on horseback."

"Oh! A lance? Yes I'm a fair hand at a lance." He laughed and stressed the word lance. Warrel chimed in, laughing at Brins lack of knowledge and culture.