A Lord's Duty (The Chronicles of Galennor Book 1)
Page 34
Instead, the boy, who looked to be all of ten summers old, grimaced with dissatisfaction and slowly knelt before Vytaus. A few moments passed before he spoke, and it was plain to see the words left a bitter taste. "Mighty Warleader," he began, affording the victor the style of address he deserved, and also simultaneously sending the message that his clan would put forth no further challenges, "I humbly request your permission to remove my father’s body to a place where our people can send him to the gods with honor."
Vytaus studied the boy. He had the look of his father about him and was dressed much the same as all of his people: leather jerkin open at the upper chest in a V shape, Wolf pelts sewn into cloaks and Wolf tails trailing from their dark hair. The People of the Wolf believed their folk had originated elsewhere. Their legends told of a time when their people lived in some other place that was torn by warfare. A small village was sacked by enemies, all its people either killed or carried off as slaves—all but one. A frightened mother had hidden her babe from their enemies, and with the people all gone the babe was alone; that is, until it was discovered by their goddess, a she-wolf whose name Vytaus did not remember.
The she-wolf goddess suckled the babe like one of her own pups and raised him to manhood, they believed, only to mate with him once he was grown. It was from that mating that they believed the first of their people were born, making them the descendents of person who was not only half-god but half-wolf to boot. Supposedly, the mother wolf goddess had then led them away from their war-torn homeland to settle in a more peaceful place, though Vytaus privately remarked that she had not chosen very well as the Northlands were awfully brutal in their own right. They burned their dead, he knew, the same as his own People of the Elk.
"You may take him to the fires," he finally answered after a moment, then quickly added, "all but his head. That I shall have as my spoils, and he will serve me in the afterlife." The boy seemed to bristle at that, and Vytaus added, "Worry not, though. Your father lacked the wisdom to yield to me and died for it, but he fought with bravery and was well within his rights to challenge me, and so I will afford him a most honored position in my Sky Hall."
Hearing that, the boys seemed a bit less agitated, but he was still plainly not pleased. He nodded gruffly and stood to walk away, but Vytaus called after him, "You should be happy. I took your father and made a chieftain of you." The boy, who had turned at hearing the older man’s voice, seemed ready to object, but only paused and a greedy smile spread across his young face. He bowed once more and then retreated to see to his father’s remains, and Vytaus could see a likeness in the boys demeanor as he took charge of the situation, shooing away the shrieking women that cradled the body, one of whom was undoubtedly his own mother. He shook his head, but said nothing. What fiends we men are for power, he thought to himself, and silently wondered if any of his own sons would weep for him if the roles were reversed.