It took Tarrin almost a whole minute to aim and fire the first arrow. He saw that it was either right on or close, but the target was too far away and too peppered with holes to make a solid guess. He didn't worry about it, just aiming his next arrow and shooting, then again. He was one of the last archers to finish, so he only had to wait a few seconds until the mayor called for bows down, and the mayor joined the tallyman to check the scores. They checked the five targets, all of which looked close, then walked back to his standing area. "Only one person advances, so we have a winner!" he called. "The scores are: Kanly Mills, eight points. Aaron Noth, nine points. Tarrin Kael, ten points. Jenna Kael, ten points. Joran Wanderer, ten points. And the winner, Eron Kael, with twelve points!"

Eron accepted a few handshakes, and then patted his daughter on the shoulder. "You did very well, my girl," he said with a smile. "You'll do even better next time."

"Second place your first time out is pretty good," Tarrin added. "It's better than I did."

"I still wanted to win," she huffed.

"That's your mother talking," Eron laughed as they went out to collect their arrows.

Tarrin ran to the table, set aside his bow, and picked up his staff. Next was his favorite competition, the staves. Much to his mother's dismay, Tarrin preferred the staff to any other weapon. His own staff was rather special, much like his bow, but he'd made the staff himself. He'd found an Ironwood sapling some three years ago. Ironwood was much as its name described, a rare wood that was so strong that it was like steel. It took Tarrin three days to cut the sapling down, and it ruined five saws. It took him over three months to strip and shape the wood, and he couldn't even count how many knives he ruined in that endeavor. It cost Tarrin every copper bit he had, plus some of his parents' money which he still owed them, but it was worth it. Ironwood was almost unbreakable, important qualities in a good staff. The wood itself was just a tad heavier than oak, and it looked almost exactly like oak, but it floated so powerfully that he could stand on the staff in a still pond. That ironwood stump had regrown, and it was quickly going to return to the size that it was when Tarrin cut it down. That was the way ironwood was. Tarrin had wisely made his staff using his mother's height as his guide, projecting the size he would be full grown by sizing the staff for someone slightly taller than his mother, and besides, he could always cut the staff down to size if it was too large, where he couldn't put wood back if he made it too small. And the gamble had paid off. The staff was about half a head taller than him, as a good staff should be sized for its user, and he hadn't had to cut it down. It fit almost perfectly into his hand, but he remembered how cumbersome it was when he first made it. It hadn't mattered much, for he'd had enough wood for two, and had made another one for himself at that height. Jenna owned that one now, it was almost perfect for her. A bit too tall maybe, but she'd grow into it.

Rushing to the referee's table, he hurriedly put his name into the draw for staff contestants, then he looked at the ring. The staff competition was rather simple. Two contestents stood inside a circular ring that was fifteen paces across. A contestant could win in three ways. He could knock his opponent out of the ring, he could knock the opponent off his feet, or he could knock the opponent's staff out of his hands. Dropping your own staff or stepping out of the ring put yourself out. Contestants were allowed to voluntarily go down to one knee, but not both. It was a full contact competition, but hitting between the legs, in the back, or in the face was automatic disqualification. Shots to any part of the head with hair, or above the forehead for the balding contestants, were perfectly acceptable. Hits with hands or feet were also acceptable, as were hits with any part of the body against an opponent, except for those areas that were off limits. Jen Bluebird had a habit of headbutting his opponents, and that disqualified him last year.

Tarrin stood next to his father, who had his own staff, watching the roughly thirty men willing to compete this year put in their names. "Karn Rocksplitter's competing this year," Eron noticed. Karn was from Daltochan, the mountain kingdom in the Cloud Dancer Mountains to the north, and like all Dals, he was wide and powerfully built. Being a blacksmith made him even more powerful than his Dal heritage. Karn had been the village champion for three straight years, but he'd broken his ribs a week before the festival last year and couldn't compete, and Tarrin had won. Many in the village were looking forward to seeing the young Tarrin Kael up against a grizzled veteran like Karn Rocksplitter.

"Good," Tarrin said. "I didn't feel right not getting my head thumped by him last year." Tarrin had been knocked out by Karn two years earlier, but it had been a good contest. Karn relied on his raw power, and his smithy's endurance allowed him to just wear down opponents. Tarrin was ready for him this year. Karn wasn't offensively gifted, but he could stand in the middle of the ring and defend to the Last Day. Tarrin already had a plan, because he fully expected to cross staves with him.

"First contestant," the mayor called, reaching into a hat with names written on pieces of parchment, "Tarrin Kael! Second contestant," he called, pulling out another strip. He laughed. "Second contenstant, Eron Kael!"

There were some shouts and laughter at that, and father and son gave each other a slight smile. Eron may have a lamed leg, but he was still a formidable opponent with the staff. "Looks like you're not going to repeat this year, son," Eron said mildly.

"I just hope mother brought some cold cloths," Tarrin shot back. "You're going to need them."

They took their places in the ring. If anyone could defend against Tarrin, it was Eron, and Tarrin knew it. It had to do with the daily sparring practices they had. Tarrin didn't fight the staff the same way the villagers did. He'd been trained in the Ungardt way, and the Ungardt fought the staff with a completely different style. The Ungardt had forms for holding the staff in the center and also on one end. Tarrin knew Eron had more trouble dealing with a end-hold style, so that was the way he set himself in the ring, holding his staff almost like a spear. Eron grimaced a bit, and then gave his son a wolfish grin.

"Eron, are you ready?" the mayor called. Eron nodded. "Tarrin, are you ready?" Tarrin nodded. "Alright, just remember that we're here for fun, not to knock out teeth. Ready? Go!"

Tarrin evaded a fast thrust to the belly, spun around and ducked to evade the swipe at his head, then whipped the staff across the back of Eron's knees. He felt the staff connect solidly, but he'd missed the knees and hit only one knee. He didn't have a low enough angle to get both. Eron dipped as his lamed knee unlocked, but he didn't go down. There was some laughter at the youngster's quick coup against his father, but they'd seen Tarrin fight staves before. He was one of the ones favored to win. Tarrin blocked a fast series of swipes from his father, using the end-hold grip like a sword to parry blows, then stepped into a high swing, blocked with the far end, and tried to smash the held end of the staff into Eron's belly. Eron blocked it with the center of his staff, but Tarrin's power scooted Eron's feet across the dirt ring, towards the rope that marked the ring boundary. Eron leaned into his staff, stopping his skid, but Tarrin had leverage enough to lift a foot. He stomped on his father's foot hard, making Eron wince, then hooked his heel behind the foot he'd just stomped and pulled with his foot as he pushed with the staff. Eron was pinioned between them, and tottered back as his foot caught against Tarrin's heel. Eron gave up a hand on his staff and grabbed Tarrin by the belt, threatening to pull both of them down and cause a double-elimination.