Instantly, he turned back and started moving again, in front of each boy, his hand up, fingers raised, palm out, he would either flick his fingers to the side or press his hand down and those who got the flick were weeded out, those who got the palm press grinned and dropped to a knee, head bowed.
When he was done and the last flicked boy scuttled away and disappeared into the crowd, the drums stopped and Lahn started shouting.
Diandra’s voice was at my ear and she translated as, sauntering back and forth in front of the boys, he bellowed words these young boys couldn’t possibly fully understand.
“You are now Korwahk warriors. You serve me,” she said just after Lahn thumped his chest. “You serve your golden queen,” she said after Lahn, not looking back, swung a muscular arm and pointed my way before dropping it. “You know nothing now but horseflesh between your legs, steel in your grip, blood on your tongue, victory your only focus. There is no other path. You have no mother. You have no father. You have no brothers except those who wear the paint. You have only The Horde. You are The Horde. You serve me, your queen, your Horde. You will seize bounty; you will claim your bride. You will grunt and sweat and bury your seed to create warriors. You do not own your flesh; The Horde owns your flesh. You sink your blade into flesh; you do it for The Horde. You will wake up a warrior, you will sleep a warrior and you will die a warrior.”
Okay, this selection freaked me out but I had to admit, that was a freaking cool speech.
Diandra had not finished translating before a rousing cheer burst forth from the crowd and then there was a commotion, an avenue in the crowd quickly parted and warriors, all painted, galloped on their horses straight into the clearing, circling, reining, reeling, horses going up on their hind legs, front hooves striking the hot air as warriors roared, pounded their chests and some unsheathed their swords at their backs and crashed them against others. It was pandemonium, loud, out-of-control, horses bumping into horses, hooves slashing against warrior thighs, steel against steel piercing the warrior cries.
The little boys had all risen and turned around and, I had to admit, as they watched the adult warriors and smiled big white smiles, they looked excited.
Lahn barked a loud order and it all stopped instantly, the warriors cut their reins and then formed a semi-circle around the dais, the horses backing up, shoving back the crowd to make room for their large number.
Okay, that was executed so smoothly and without even a bit of disorder, I had to admit that was freaking cool too.
The second they were in formation, Lahn shouted, “Suh Tunak!” and Diandra translated, “The Horde.”
All the warriors and the crowd, shouted back, “Suh Tunak!”
When that died away, Lahn shouted again then turned his back on the boys, started up the steps and Diandra said in my ear, “Now we feast.”
The crowd was cheering, the robed man was hurrying the boys away and the warriors were circling their steeds to exit the area as the drums struck up again, a pounding beat, faster and people rushed into the clearing. They were laughing, cheering and more cries of Suh Tunak could be heard. Then they were stamping their feet, knees high, jerking their bodies and it hit me they were dancing.
Lahn made his casual way up the steps, turned, sat and surveyed the burgeoning revelry again without a word or glance at me.
Therefore, I figured my role was complete and I could get out of the hot sun and back to my cool tent to play with my baby tiger and decide what to do about my crazy life.
I turned to Diandra and asked, “Can I go now?”
Her head tipped to the side and her brows drew together. “Go?”
“Home, um… back to the cham.”
“But no, my queen, of course not. We eat, we drink, we dance, the celebration will last into the night.”
Was she kidding? It was barely noon.
“I can’t sit out in this sun until it sets, Diandra, I’ll be a lobster.”
“A lobster?”
“My skin will burn red,” I explained and she smiled.
“Ah, I see, a lobster after it is cooked. Clever, Dahksahna Circe.”
I wasn’t trying to be clever. I was trying to save myself from third degree burns.
“Diandra, I’m serious.”
She stared at me, the smile died out of her eyes and then she looked uncertainly at the king.
Then she muttered, “I see this job will have its downfalls.” Then she called out to Lahn, I looked to him and saw his head turn to her, he watched her as she spoke then his eyes dropped to my arm for a fraction of a second before they sliced back to her.
“Me,” he grunted and looked away.
“He says no,” Diandra told me.
She had to be kidding. He had to be kidding.
“But I’ll fry out here!” I cried, she bit her lip and I heard Lahn speak.
I looked to him and back to Diandra when she interpreted.
“The golden queen sits at her king’s side.”
I looked to Lahn. “Seriously, Lahn, this sun is hot, the fires are hot and my skin isn’t like yours. It’s not –”
Diandra was talking with me and Lahn cut us both off with, “Me.”
“Lahn!” I snapped, he leaned into me and his eyes were scary.
“Me, Circe. Me.”
He looked away and that was it.
No.
Okay, one good thing about that was that my dilemma was solved as to how I felt about being in this world and how I felt about my savage king.
And that solution was that I was done. I needed to find a way out.
As soon as f**king possible.
Chapter Nine
The Celebration
Night had fallen, torches had been lit and I knew by the tightness of my skin that I was burned to a crisp.
Diandra wasn’t wrong, the celebration lasted into the night and things could get sordid.
This was, I was guessing, because this culture was whacked.
It was also because, like any people, primitive savage cultures or not, you pass the booze around freely, shit happens.
It all started merry, drumming, dancing, jugs were produced and passed around, casks were set up, the latter two people partook of liberally as in, the Korwahk knew how to party and they did it hard. Women threaded through the throngs weighed down by huge wooden platters groaning with food. There was a lot of laughter, lots of random cheers of Suh Tunak! and the constant din of happy, party conversation under the equally constant banging of the drums.
Throughout this, I sat on my white throne and often people would approach, children, adults, the elderly, and all of them had flowers or petals. Their eyes would go to their Dax, they’d receive his consent (an arrogant jerk of the chin, by the by) and these flowers or petals would be tossed at me feet or in my lap or anywhere around my chair so that now I had a pile of them around me everywhere.