The Lord of the Clans

by Chris Lange

  Unless she had died. Maybe the Creators were giving her a final moment, but to do what? Say goodbye to the existence she hadn't quite yet lived? She didn’t want to die. Not yet. Not before she got to spend more time with the man who ruled all the clans, the warrior who made her throb and ache.

  The scene winked in and out of existence. She was losing her feeble connection to the world of the living. Where would she go? Where would the Mighty Gods take her now that she belonged to them? A veil of nothingness replaced the sight of his strong arms around her. He disappeared.

  The pleasant heat caressing her face brought her around. She blinked, rubbed her eyes, saw the fire warming her.

  “Welcome back.”

  Reddish shadows delineated the long scar on his cheek as he smiled at her across the flames. Her heart leapt up, scattering away any trace of unconsciousness. She wasn’t dead. She could feel every muscle in her body, every nerve filled with life. And he looked so handsome.

  She sat up with care, but no pain touched her. The smell of roasting meat hit her nose, plunged down her throat and roused her empty belly. How long had she been out if he had taken the time to hunt, skin, gut and cook rabbits?

  “Dinner is served.”

  She took the wooden stick he handed her over the fire. The meat melted in her mouth—hot, juicy and tender. Dear Gods, but this was so good that she wished he’d cook for her every day. When her hunger seemed to abate a little, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “What happened to me?”

  “I should be the one asking this question.”

  Except that she had no recollection of him carrying her back to the first cave. She glanced at the massive gateway, at a corner of the night sky outside lit with distant stars. Trying to jog her memory without any success, she sucked a bone clean and chucked it into the fire.

  “I passed out because of the same noise again. It really hurts.”

  “I figured as much, but what about the rest?”

  “What rest?”

  Was he referring to her out-of-body experience when she had watched him cradle her in his arms and call out her name? Impossible. No way could he be aware of that. He sighed across the fire.

  “You know, the little trip you took.”

  She shook her head. He must have realised her total lack of understanding wasn’t feigned because he nodded.

  “Your blackout didn’t last long. When you came to, your eyes glazed over, and you got to your feet before I had the chance to slow you down.”

  “Dear Creators, I don’t remember.”

  “I can see that. Anyway, something happened in that cave, and I guessed you were in some kind of powerful trance.”

  “What do you mean ‘something happened’? Did you hear the dreadful noise this time?”

  He shook his head again, but this time like a man caught in a plight too mystifying to comprehend.

  “No, but I sensed a presence. I didn’t see or hear anything, and I can’t explain it better than that. Whatever it was drew you into the maze.”

  “Really? And you let me follow it?”

  “Short of killing you, I couldn’t have stopped you. You looked like a statue, and it seemed your mind had strayed somewhere else.”

  “I could have been lost in that maze forever.”

  “I know, which is why I decided to tag along.”

  She opened wide eyes, and a sudden grin pulled at his scar while he eyed her with an unfamiliar expression.

  “Don’t look so surprised. I wouldn’t let anything bad befall you. To tell you the truth, though, I lost my bearings at some point. The maze is too big and intricate for anyone to get out of without help.”

  “Then who got us out?”

  “You. The presence. Both of you. I don’t know.”

  What a pity the memory of this uncanny moment stayed out of her grasp. Unlike the way he’d reacted when she fainted the first time, she believed everything he recounted down to the smallest details. From what she remembered of the experience, she hadn’t felt any presence.

  This temple might be devoid of human life, yet the place still retained a uniqueness for which she had no words. Neither had he. After all, the Shrine of Fate used to be the home of the Ancients, so the presence he'd felt could be them. She swallowed a tender piece of meat as a question crossed her mind.

  “Do you think there was a point to this little trip?”

  “I’m sure of it.”

  She raised an eyebrow. He got up to retrieve a small object from his saddlebags, then placed it in her open palm before going to sit back down on the other side of the fire. She glided a finger over the black-as-night metal disc.

  “What is it?”

  “No idea, but you went straight for it when we got to the heart of the maze. The last cavern looked like an ancient shrine with an altar sitting at its centre. You overlooked it completely to walk to the back of the cave. Then you pressed on different rocks that jutted out of the wall, as if you had done this all your life. A small hole opened up in the wall and you reached in to retrieve this disc. I knew the quest was over when you led us out of the maze and back here.”

  Extraordinary. One of the most amazing tales she’d ever heard. She looked at the object resting in her hand.

  “What are we going to do with this?”

  “Keep it.”

  “What for?”

  “Sometimes patience brings enlightenment.”

  He seemed to enjoy the ring of his little saying. Even if she had no clue as to the purpose of the mysterious object, who could tell what the future held? He was right, so on the mark, in fact, that she resolved to keep the disc safe and hidden. What about the shrieking sound that had drawn her here? Would it be too far-fetched to consider the disc called her?

  Without a doubt, yes, although the fairly absurd notion lingered in her mind. She pondered the suggestion while he went back and forth to fetch enough wood to last for the whole night.

  Another idea disturbed her. Whether the whole scheme had been devised by the Creators or the Ancients, why choose her? She was nobody, just a simple clan woman from one of the Healers’ Tribe.

  He came back from his last trip carrying their blankets. The sight instantly triggered an instinctive reflex and she yawned. Sliding the disk into her pocket, she looked up at him.

  “I wonder why the Ancients abandoned this place.”

  “They didn’t have a choice. They all died.”

  “How?”

  “I thought your shaman would have told you the story.”

  “I guess I didn’t listen hard enough. But, you see, it was much less interesting than the stories about—”

  She broke off, an undesired warmth sneaking up her cheeks. He cocked his head before coming to crouch by the fire.

  “About what?”

  If she told him, he’d gloat. If she didn’t, he’d badger her until she gave in. Since she had more and more trouble tolerating his grumpy mood, enticing him to gloat might make for a nice change.

  “The Lord of the Clans.”

  Not a shred of pride altered his features. While maintaining a look as expressive as a slab of stone, he unfastened the sword he kept across his back.

  “And what do these stories say about me?”

  “They tell of your courage, your numerous feats, and of your dedication to protect the tribes.”

  “I’d wager my contribution is widely overrated.”

  “Unless you truly didn't kill an enraged mountain lion that threatened to destroy an entire village.”

  “Ah, that.”

  His eyes narrowed as if the recollection of an intense confrontation had left a mark in his soul. She couldn’t envision how anyone would find the guts to face a mountain lion, let alone an enraged one. For a reason she didn’t want to dwell on, her heart swelled with pride when he lightly traced the long scar on his cheek.

  “A memorable encounter.”

  By the Mighty Gods, he had done it. He’d fought and v
anquished the raving creature of the wilderness. This newfound knowledge puzzled her. He was brave enough to risk his life over and over again for his people, yet he treated her with upsetting coldness as soon as it became too personal. She knew for sure she’d saved his leg, yet all he did was keep his distance with her.

  He had willingly followed her into the maze without the means of knowing if he’d come out of the labyrinth alive. Just so he could protect her if the need arose. She’d have bet her most treasured healing herbs and potions that he’d back away if she tried to touch his scar now.

  She almost did. The urge to glide her finger over his old wound seized her and she pressed her hands against her pants. Whether he perceived her emotion or not, he suddenly got to his feet.

  “You’d better rest. You’ve had an eventful day.”

  That said, he picked up his blanket, slung it over his shoulder, and strode to the gateway. Did he intend to spend the night outside? Although it wasn’t her place to enquire about his motives, she blurted out.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Sleep. I’ll stand watch.”

  “But you said earlier that we’d be safe here tonight. Is there a new danger I’m not aware of?”

  The deep sigh he expelled came from the bottom of his chest. Brow creased, he gestured toward her blanket.

  “Would you just lie down and be quiet.”

  That was not really her current intention. He obviously didn’t want to sleep beside her, and the short distance between her and the gateway must appear like protection enough to him. Against what? The only explanation she could come up with always brought her back to the previous evening.

  Somehow she had caused him great displeasure while they mated. So much so that he’d rather head for the hills than stay close to her. Well, she’d have none of this ridiculous attitude.

  Without a care for consequences, she stood up and walked to him. She ignored the barrier of his arms folded across his chest as well as the menacing expression on his face as she looked him in the eye.

  “I’m very sorry I offended you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Thank you, Ariana. There’s nothing to be sorry about. You didn’t offend me.”

  “I must have.”

  Another sigh escaped his lips, not as deep as the first one. Yet the barrier of his arms didn’t come down.

  “I admit you got me worried when you turned into the living dead and threw yourself into that maze. But I wouldn’t hold that incident against you.”

  “That’s not it. I want to know why you’ve only offered me silence since this morning. I’m not sure what I did to deserve your disapproval, but I should know lest I make the same mistake again.”

  “You’re imagining things.”

  No, she wasn’t. His gaze wavered and she sensed his unease as clearly as if he shouted it. Determined not to let him distract her or dodge the sensitive issue, she pointed an accusing finger.

  “Ever since we mated you’ve shunned me, or disregarded me. And most importantly, you’ve been mean to me.”

  “I’m a leader, Ariana. I don’t have time to be mean to people.”

  He sure had time to guide her to Frahern. On the other hand, she wouldn’t get any justification out of him unless she insisted.

  “Well?”

  “Well, nothing. Go back over there.”

  When she just stood in front in him, he caught her wrist and pulled her back to the blanket by the fire.

  “I don’t want to hear one more word about this. Now, sleep.”

  She wrenched her forearm free, but he appeared not to notice her impulsive jerk. Or pretended to not.

  All she wanted was an answer to her question, but she had only managed to get him angry. The feeling worked both ways because a biting irritation now churned in her stomach.

  She took deep breaths while smoothing the blanket, though the hard floor wouldn’t replace a pallet. She needed to calm down and bide her time. She’d get him one way or the other. Just not tonight.

  He threw big sticks into the fire and grabbed his sword before walking back to the gateway. They were in the middle of practically nowhere, and there wasn’t a chance they’d be attacked. Not with the spirits of the Ancients watching over them. Well, good for him if he felt it necessary to guard the entrance to the temple. He’d freeze out there while she’d stay happy and warm by the fire.

  She lay down on the blanket. She let her thoughts wander as she stared at the decorated ceiling. Brooding over his peculiar behaviour seemed pointless, so she pictured her aunt first, then her home. Her straw hut near the river, the tribe she belonged to, the people she had known most of her life.

  A particular recollection sprang up as she closed her eyes, probably because her mind still hosted a disturbing mix of bitterness and attraction toward the Lord of the Clans.

  When they prepared potions while the shaman was out of earshot, the other healers sometimes talked about sex. Not all of them were married, but they all mated and seemed to enjoy the experience.

  She remembered last summer, the fierce sun slowing movements and setting tongues wagging. They'd gathered at the river under the pretence of cooling down for a while, lifted their skirts up and waded into the fresh water for a good while. Poplar and willow trees shading them from the blistering heat, they'd sat down on the grassy bank to share fruit and hard cider. Maybe the strong beverage fermented for too long.

  As the sun reached the middle of the sky, the eldest healer confided that the miller’s wife never got them. As a result, she desperately wanted to buy a love potion. All the girls giggled, obviously pleased about the information, or making fun at either the miller or his wife.

  Then Rayane went on to conjecture about the man’s abilities in the pallet. They all burst out laughing as she described his failures with suggestive gestures and spicy anecdotes.

  She listened hard, with a smile on her face so they’d think she was following the conversation. What was the miller supposed to give his wife that made her friends so merry? Why was his curious inadequacy somehow tied to the size and angle of attack of his pecker?

  Nature had endowed Kelton with large privates, yet he’d never given her anything either. Nor had the sweet boy she frolicked with the summer before that. Should she enquire about this potion?

  High in the sky, the sun crushed the Four Kingdoms under its bright glare as Rayane’s voice declined to a whisper. Birds chirped in the trees, colonies of ants crawled on the dry soil, honeybees dove head-on into blossomed flowers. With the girls assembled around her, she pronounced the word that would stick in her mind: the orgasm.

  She hadn’t grasped the full extent of Rayane’s meaning at the time, but she did now. The orgasm was the powerful, body and mind delirious sensation she experienced in the arms of the Lord of the Clans. When he had penetrated her. When his rigid manhood had ignited her passion.

  No wonder her healer friends giggled and chatted about sex. Sometimes they even called the act making love. Was it different from copulation, or just a fancy expression to boast about?

  Still, if mating ignited this feeling beyond compare, how come she never had an inkling of its existence?

  Kelton inserted and rubbed his dick inside her several times a week. Although not unpleasant, all his rapid thrusts elicited in her were the desire to bring the moment to a close. As soon as his body twitched and he bellowed above her, she’d smile with relief.

  Not so with the Lord of the Clans. She wouldn’t have minded him driving his thick cock inside her again and again. As long as he’d have liked to, and more. Until dawn killed the night, and even after that.

  Unlike Kelton back at home, Cameron rocked her foundations. He’d given her the orgasm. So why would this wondrous occurrence send him straight into gloomy expressions and grumpiness?

  A last thought flashed in her mind as sleep pulled her down. Just before intoxicating her with a last thrust, he had uttered with difficulty “I can’t bring you there”. The
tavern pallet being large, warm, and comfortable, where else did he want to bring her?

  Twigs crackled in the flames. The deep silence reigning over the temple called for sleep. No sound came from the gateway, but an owl hooted outside, and she wished to slumber the night away.

  Early morning found her rested and in good spirits. The dark hours hadn’t worked as well on him because he looked sullen. Great! Another long day of riding with only herself to keep her company.

  They left the temple, once he had packed up all their belongings in silence, and meandered downhill. Without having to use her calves’ muscles so much, or pull on the horse’s bridle, she enjoyed the hike this time. The sun cast golden rays, the crisp air smelled of spring, nature blossomed all around, and not even the straight set of his shoulders clouded her mood.

  Back on the plain, they came across the place where she fainted for the first time. As much as she pricked her ears, no high-pitched sound pierced her eardrums. The black disc rested in the bottom of her pocket, and the Shrine of Fate would probably lay dormant for eternity.

  She rode behind him, the sun warming her back. Although the plain appeared to stretch in all directions, she spotted a darker line straight ahead. A grove of trees? The edge of a forest?

  Distance deceived her because they only reached the small woods a long while later. She’d have welcomed a break, and her heart swelled with hope when he slowed the pace down to a walk.

  But instead of heading into the trees, he cocked his head while his body went rigid. Could he be hearing the same kind of shrills that tipped her over the border of consciousness?

  Although she didn’t see any temples around, maybe the Ancients had decided to switch host. Or not. She recognised trouble as soon as he whirled his head toward her and spoke with urgency.

  “Ride as hard as you can. Don’t look back.”

  His taut features reflected danger. Without questioning his order, she kicked her horse and galloped along the outside row of trees. He might be stubborn and aloof at times but, as long as they travelled together, her safety would always be his priority. She was clan. He was the protector.