I didn’t have a good feeling about that either considering we were walking through a village of tents and torchlight, people wearing hides and wisps of material. I figured they were all relatively primitive. “Savage”, “cruel” and “heartless” upped that ante by quite a bit and were not a words I liked.
She looked forward and suddenly her manner became urgent, her hand slid from mine up to my forearm where she grasped it and pulled me closer even as we kept walking.
“We are about to enter the avenue of warriors, so you must listen,” she said swiftly, sounding just as urgent as she was acting and a thrill raced up my spine and it was not a good one. “The Wife Hunt is what its name says it is. The warriors of Korwahk are strong and fierce. They are respected. To be a warrior, you must train from a little boy and endure many trials. Only the most powerful men will be allowed into the Korwahk Horde. To give your life to this training and then go out on raids and make war with the Dax, you are promised riches, booty from pillaging and war and also participation in the Wife Hunt which offers you the opportunity to claim a great beauty as your bride.”
Okay, it was safe to say that things were not getting better.
Narinda continued. “As you can see, we are being paraded through the Daxshee, or the Dax’s village, his camp where he lives with his warriors. We will be paraded in front of his warriors. They will look us over, decide who to take as wife. Once the parade is finished, they will mount their horses while we are taken outside the Daxshee. There, we will be set free. And there, they will hunt us.”
Oh.
My.
Fucking.
God!
“What?” I cried and she shook my forearm.
“Circe, quiet! Listen,” she hissed. “This is important.”
I was trembling and I was listening. Hard. So hard my ears hurt.
Narinda carried on. “They will hunt us and they will claim us.” Her fingers gripped my forearm and she pressed closer. “They will claim us like any husband claims his wife on their wedding night.”
Oh shit. Oh God. Oh shit. OhGodohshitohGod.
She kept at it. “They will bring us back to the village, naked and claimed.”
OhshitohGodohshit.
“And then the wedding rite will be held before the Dax.”
I didn’t want to know. I really didn’t
But I asked, “What’s that?”
“Settle, my lovely,” she said softly, hearing and reading my tone even over the loud beat of the drums. “It is whatever the warrior wants it to be. Mostly, they just present the Dax with their bride. Then there is dancing, drinking, eating and revelry.”
“Do we…” I swallowed, “do we get to put clothes on for this, uh… revelry?”
She nodded. “After presentation to their king, we will be clothed in clothing our warrior provides us.”
That was good.
But I wasn’t going to get to that part.
Not me. No way. I was going to run. I was going to hide. I was going to fight. I was going to do whatever I could do to get away, find out what in the fuck I was doing in this crazy, freaking place and get my ass home.
“I see you are frightened,” Narinda called my attention to her and my eyes snapped to hers.
“Well… yeah,” I bit out.
“Do not, Circe, listen to me now, do not do anything foolish,” she said quickly, her eyes again scanning the crowd, the lit space getting closer, I could see the urgency on her face.
“And foolish would be?”
“Do not fight the claiming. Don’t. It is their tradition. They don’t see anything wrong with it and look at the Korwahk women. Circe, look at them. They can’t wait.”
I looked at the Korwahk women. It was true. It was insane but it was true.
They obviously couldn’t wait.
Then Narinda went on to advise, “Take your warrior and endure the claiming and hope, hope, my lovely, with all your heart, that you get a warrior who is soft under all that hardness.”
I was trembling head-to-toe and I wanted to bolt. I wanted to run.
But it was too late.
We were entering the avenue of the warriors.
I knew this because the onlookers had disappeared. The only thing left were two lines on either side of us, shoulder to shoulder, of men wearing nothing but hide pants, their glistening, brown-skinned bodies painted. Some had painted white streaks in addition to black, not many, a few. More had red. About the same amount had a deep blue. Some had a combination of all of these colors. But there were some only painted in black even though those painted solely in black was nowhere near the majority.
And it was scary. They were scary. This was because they were huge. Not big, not tall, huge. They were all lean and muscled, not a little bit, a lot. Some had scars. Some had seriously nasty scars. All of them had black hair, all of it long and pulled back from their painted faces. All of them were wearing what looked like a long looped chain that was wound around their waists. All had massive swords in scabbards at slants on their backs and all had two knives in sheathes at either side of their waists.
They looked like warriors and they looked like savages.
The place was lit with tons of torches and some big fires. The drums were still beating, louder now, the sound pummeling my skin. I walked in front of the warriors and I became glad the Korwahk women wanted these men. I was glad because they also knew I would draw attention because I was blonde and they wanted that attention. Warrior eyes came to me but the minute they did, a Korwahk woman moved to get in front of me, catch their eyes. They leaned in to show their faces, leaned back to show their bodies, pressed their arms together to push out their breasts.
Thank God.
“Circe, close to me, duck your head without looking like you’re doing it. We approach the Dax,” Narinda warned under her breath but over the drums and I moved even closer to her and tried to duck my head without looking like I was ducking my head.
And come to the Dax we did. The drums were so loud they were all I could hear. Each beat felt like it was hammered against my body. And the Korwahk women around us became frenzied. They flooded the area to our left side and did everything to put themselves on display.
I leaned forward and peered through the undulating bodies trying to see but all I caught were scraps. Nevertheless, those scraps were not good.
A vast, wide dais, some ten steps up. On it what looked like a huge throne made almost entirely out of colossal, black, curling horns that shot up and rounded in an array at the back, the same for the armrests and seat. The feet, though, looked like elephant feet.
Um… not nice.
Behind the dais there was what looked like a stream of fire that danced the length, illuminating it. To either side of the throne, massive fire pits then huge drums that were at least the height of two grown men and the men banging the drums had to run toward it and hurl their mallet with the flying weight of their whole body, drop to their feet, run away and then run back again. They were glistening with sweat for their efforts.
That was all I caught. No man was sitting on the throne. There was no one there.
No one.
Until I saw him.
Standing at one side and up toward the edge of the dais looking down was a giant of a man. A beast of a man. Taller than any of the extremely tall warriors on the sides of the parade, broader, more muscled, more savage.
He was looking down the dais not at the parade but at a man in robes who was gesturing up to him. His strapping arms were crossed on his brawny chest, his chest and face painted in streaks of black, one going clean across his eyes. He wore no other colors.
And he appeared bored.
That was all I saw before frenzied Korwahk girls, calling out in their strange language, closed in front of me, jumping up and down like they were at their favorite boy band concert.
“He doesn’t intend to take a wife this Hunt, thank the Gods,” Narinda breathed at my side and her relief was so great, it
communicated itself to me. I relaxed and she moved us forward hurriedly but I could tell she was trying to make it not look hurried.
Then I did something stupid. I don’t know why I did, but I did.
When we were passed the dais and the girls started to circle me again to deflect the attention the warriors were giving me, I looked back at the savage Korwahk king.
And when I did, I looked right into his dark, painted eyes.
Oh fuck!
I twisted back around swiftly and sucked in breath.
“Circe?” Narinda called, hearing my breath even over the drums.
“He saw me,” I whispered.
“What?” she asked.
“He saw me!” I cried. “The Dax!”
Her eyes got big and she cried in return, “Oh no!”
I shut my eyes tight.
“All right, all right, my lovely, maybe he didn’t. Maybe he –” she tried, clutching my arm.
“He did,” I whispered as we moved beyond the avenue of warriors into another sea of onlookers.
She gripped my arm. “Maybe he didn’t.”
I nodded. “Maybe he didn’t,” I said softly.
But he did.
Chapter Two
The Claiming
One warrior slashed out with his enormous sword cutting open the warrior who had chained himself to my necklace, the warm spurt of blood splashed across my front, I screamed and jumped away as the warrior attached to me dropped, lifeless, to the ground.
Narinda had not told me about the Hunt. She had not told me that the warriors would fight each other for their brides. You could hear the grunts of men everywhere, the clash of steel, the howls of pain, the roars of victory.
You could also hear the cries of women, most were in surprise, some fear, some distress, some were in ecstasy mingled with the groans of men finding sexual release.
All of it coming at me from all directions in the dark night.
It was a nightmare. It was a nightmare’s nightmare.
This was the third time I’d been caught, tackled to the hard ground by a warrior who threw himself off a horse to do it. He then took the end of the chain around his waist and hooked it to my necklace and then he started wrestling me, fights I knew I’d lose because all of them were inhumanly strong and stinking men, I might add, so already stronger than me. Then they’d be challenged by another warrior (once two). Then they’d battle, sword against sword, knife against knife, fists against flesh and the only thing I had to be thankful for was that the chain was long and every warrior who hooked it to me shoved me well out of the fray.
The others had given up, though, by batting the victorious warrior on the head seeming not all that bothered then they unchained my chain, remounted their steed and took off into the night.
This warrior had killed the man chained to me.
I backed up, trying to drag the massive, inert warrior I was attached to with me as the new warrior stalked toward me, his eyes intense, his body scarred more than most, his face, even only lit by the moonlight and the faraway torchlight of the Daxshee, ferocious and mean. I knew instantly, as I panted and yanked at my chain, dragging the motionless warrior with me as the new one prowled toward me, that although I didn’t want any of them, this one I really didn’t want.
Then he tossed his sword to the side and rushed me. Before I could get my feet to turn my body, his heavy weight was flying through the air. It hit me and I went down to my back, the wind knocked out of me, his weight now on top of me.
I struggled for breath and thrashed beneath him as he unhooked the chain at my neck and hooked his own, completely immune to my flailing.
Once he had his chain connected to me, his head turned to me. I stilled a second at the cruelty easily read in his eyes, his hand went between us, he shoved one of my legs aside and I shrieked in his face, bucked with everything I had, by some miracle he went up and I pushed him over, scuttled from under the rest of his body, made it to my feet, my hands going to the chain at my neck to try and unhook it and I ran.
I got four steps before my chain was yanked viciously. I flew back and landed hard and painfully, ass to stone.
Whipping around on my behind, one of my hands going to the hook at my necklace and fumbling with it, the other going to the chain to hold on and give myself some slack as he yanked it again, pain piercing through my neck where the necklace dug in and my bottom was dragged across the rock toward him.
God, he was reeling me in like an animal.
What the fuck did I do to get transported to this hellhole?
“No!” I shrieked, tugging hard at the chain and then we both heard hoof beats.
My head turned, my heart clenched, my stomach dropped and I stared at the Dax astride a huge, dark-colored horse bearing down on us.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!
The warrior chained to me roared in fury, pulled out both knives from the sheathes at his waist, took a battle stance but the horse kept coming, it came fast, so very, flipping fast and the rider clearly wasn’t going to dismount.
He didn’t.
At the last instant, his muscular arm came up, he tore the sword out of the scabbard across his back and with a almighty downward strike, the second his horse jumped the chain connecting me to the warrior, with a spark and hiss of steel against steel, the chain was severed and I flew back, again, on my fucking ass.
The other warrior again roared his fury, this time, if it was possible, it was clear his fury was seriously furious as the Dax instantly rounded his horse in a tight circle and charged the standing warrior.
Oh shit.
Forget this crap. I was out of there.
I got to my feet and I freaking ran.
I had no idea where I was going. I had no idea where I was. I had no idea what was out there. And I didn’t care.
I just headed away from the lights of the Daxshee into the bright, moonlit stone and dark brush of what appeared to be mostly wasteland around it.
I had no plan. I had nothing on my mind.
Except escape.
My side hurt. My feet hurt. My neck hurt. My ass hurt. I needed a fucking bra. But I didn’t care. I just ran.
And ran.
And freaking ran.
Then I heard the hoof beats behind me, steady, fast, pounding into the rock and I knew the Dax had triumphed against scary, huge, cruel warrior.
I didn’t have to look.
The Dax was coming after me.
I knew it.
I ran faster, sprinting, the pain in my side agonizing but I kept going as fast as I could.
The horse’s hooves got closer; I knew they were almost upon me. Frantic, I glanced back and saw I was right. Not only were they close, the man, the rider, so huge he seemed giant, had leaned so deeply to the side, his body was in line with the horse’s middle.
And his long arm was stretched out.
I faced forward and tried to run faster.
But I couldn’t go any faster and I certainly couldn’t go faster than a horse.
I cried out when the arm hooked me at the waist, closed around and lifted me clean off my feet before my ass was planted on the horse in front of him.
Without thinking, I screamed bloody murder, twisted on the still running horse and prepared, instead of running for my life, to fight for it.
He had an arm around me, the other hand dropped the reins and he went for the chain at his waist.
I lifted my hands, nails bared, and went for his eyes.
I caught the flash of the surprise that slashed across his dark, painted features before he abandoned the chain and his hold on my waist, he reared back and caught my wrists before my nails reached their target.
I took that opportunity to slide off the slowing horse.
Doing this, he was forced to let go or come down with me. I hit feet first, pain shooting through my ankles and up my calves and I dropped because of it, rolled, found my feet again and started to run.
The horse came back at
me but this time, I was prepared. When I glanced back and saw him this close, I ducked under his arm. Him and his horse shot passed me and I instantly changed directions and ran the other way.
I seemed to be making some headway and I heard no horse but was stopped when a steely arm wrapped around my waist, lifted me off my feet and whirled me around.
Shit, he was off his horse. And shit again, he could run without sound.
I bucked violently then kicked my feet out even more violently. His arm loosened, my feet hit stone and I tried to run but he caught me up again. I whirled in his hold and lunged in the small space, bracing against a foot I planted behind me, I shoved with all my weight.
His torso rocked back, his arm loosened again, I took three quick, giant steps back then he lunged. There was more of him than me and it was more powerful. He tackled me and I landed on my back, him on top of me.
Grunting, straining and struggling, I fought, pushed, kicked, scratched and bit.
I was no match.
Not even close.
Subduing me with his body, one arm and his heavy legs, his other hand came up and he hooked his chain to my necklace.
Damn it all to hell, I knew what that meant.
My back arched and I screamed with all my might the frustrated rage that surged through my system.
But even chained to him, knowing it was a fight I’d never win, I didn’t give up.
My hand went to his waist, I found the hilt of the knife and pulled it free, whipping it back but he disarmed me before I could take that first slash. Then his own hand went to the other knife, pulled it out and tossed it away.
Damn.
I still didn’t give up. I kept fighting.
Nails, teeth, screams, punches, bucking, kicking… nothing worked.
He succeeded in positioning himself, hips between my legs then he yanked the edges of the material covering me aside so roughly, both sides tore away from my necklace, leaving me fully exposed
My back arched again as I screeched, “No!” right in his face and didn’t give up.
His hands caught my wrists, yanking them over my head, one hand transferring both of my wrists to be imprisoned in just one of his big hands, his other hand went down between our bodies.
The Golden Dynasty f-2 Page 2
