The Bloodwood Curse: An Epic Fantasy Adventure of Swords, Magic and Romance. (The Rosethorn Chronicles Book 1)

by Peter Summersby

  “Did you notice that the red colour is not used at all on anyone except my consorts?”

  “I did, I thought it was meant to make them stand out for you.”

  “That is the least of it,” said the King, “the rest of it is that each colour has a certain attribute that is accentuated by wearing it. Did you notice that some children born into the nobility don’t follow their parents’ house?”

  “I did not,” answered Aife. She got out of her chair and moved to one next to her father.

  They leaned into each other, heads resting together.

  “That is because the houses are arranged according to abilities, each house has a certain function in our society. I know I am parroting to you what your teachers told you, but it runs deeper than what you were told.”

  “How so?”

  “When a child is born they normally serve their families business, however in a few cases they are adopted into another family if they show skill in a certain area, or if one family doesn’t have enough people to fulfil their responsibility.”

  “So, the dark blues are for kingliness, light blue brings out wisdom, yellow loyalty, and red passion.” Aife recited the lesson from school.

  “Green is common and is generally reserved for soldiers as it stirs up obedience and zeal. Useful but very common; however, purple is a hard one to find and to be treasured above all others. Purple is reserved for generals and great advisors.”

  “So, when I was painted in white I was highly susceptible to any suggestions?”

  “That’s right,” agreed the King, leaning back, smiling. “It’s not commonly known that the white makes people susceptible to suggestion. As you know, to become a chosen warrior you must spend a whole week painted white doing any, and all tasks that are put to you.”

  “If I was painted in white at the time I would be compelled to do anything anyone suggested to me?”

  “For a woman that can leave some serious scars that even the most hardened warrior would tremble at. Not all our people are honest and decent.”

  With that final word the King got up and left the room. A cold chill sent a shiver up Aife’s spine. That was most certainly a dodged arrow.

  From another door came two serving girls. Their young faces flushed when they saw her, and they froze in place.

  Aife leaned back in her chair and waved them to continue.

  They glanced at each other and began to clear the table, taking great pains to avoid looking at her.

  Aife watched them through her half-closed eyes. They were young barely old enough to work. Their curse scars etched into their back and sides. Several small warts were beginning to show on their small breasts and stomachs. They were painted in red stripes and yellow stars. These girls would not be old enough for the passion that would interest my father; they would be passionate about serving him as cleaners and maids. How much of our culture has been subverted by the curse and our desire to hide our imperfections? Are we a vain people with no hope for salvation? Aife arose after the table had been fully cleared and walked out the same door she had come in.

  Chapter 7 Supplicant

  1st day of the 1st month 151st Year of the 8th era

  Aife opened her eyes. Pain seared through her head. She groaned and sat up. She sat in the gathering field. The detritus of last night’s party was still strewn across the field. Lying next to her were two women who had shed their paint and paraded around last night as they had entered the world. They had found several partners to keep them company. She stretched and stood.

  Today is the day. I am going through with it. She sighed as she saw her friend sleeping in the arms of a lover she had met that night. Ever since that eye-opening night at her father’s she had tried to be the good daughter, but she felt empty. I need purpose in my life, I need conviction. Maybe that will fill the hole in my life.

  The door sat in the middle of the Mother Tree. Aife walked along the field occasionally stepping over passed out revellers in the arms of their companions. Each time brought a pang of jealousy. She came to the temple complex. In the centre of the complex was the mother Goddess Meerat, a stately woman nude and hands clasped, and the father God Tareem, a powerful man with a huge erect member. They signified the union with nature, the curse had brought despair to the dark elves and now Solimas, a whisper thin woman with sunken cheeks standing cowed and hiding her naked breasts, and Trath, a large man with a growing fat belly his member flaccid, were the major deities.

  I could serve Tareem and Meerat and bring hope back to my people. With new purpose, she strode down towards the entrance of the Mother deity and joined the end of the procession heading into the temple.

  They entered the temple. The room was wide and opened out into a vast cavern, with many people arrayed on the floor sitting on their legs. People from all walks of life had come to acquire the blessing for a new year. She saw many of the revellers at the back of the temple grounds. Everyone was naked with their paint fading and needing a touch-up. At the front of the room she spied her father and younger brother resplendent in fresh paint. She walked up the centre isle and sat beside them, crossing her legs and getting comfortable in the short grass of the floor.

  King Caradec turned and smiled at her then returned to face the priest beginning the ceremony. The priest brought forth a censor filled with incense and lit it and began to wave it as he began the intonation for the welcome and beginning blessing. The smell of flowers and spice made her head heady from the smoke, but she continued to smile. The high priest’s body was corpulent, and his stomach sagged over his genitals, his body was painted with broad white and light blue stripes.

  Aife glanced at her father who smiled back at her.

  She leaned to his ear. “He has purple and white paint?”

  “Yes,” he whispered back. “The high priest is meant to be a servant to the people and full of wisdom.”

  “He doesn’t wear those colours normally,” she stated.

  “That is because he can’t.”

  Aife leaned away. What does that mean? He can’t be wise or a servant to the people?

  The high priest finished the first recitation chant, and the congregation responded with the ritual chant. He then stepped back and sat down on a chair at the back of the vestry. He began panting and fanned himself with his hands. A woman in orange paint handed him a small fan and he smiled at her in relief. She returned to her seat.

  Aife cast her eyes over the vestry. In the centre was a large elevated altar, to her left sat several women in exact rows their paint a bright orange, their hair cut short. One turned her head and watched the high priest and suppressed a giggle with her hand.

  A man emerged from a door at the far side of the vestry and stood behind the altar. His paint was a mixture of orange and light blue. His body was firm and well sculpted; his hair a wavy brown.

  “Children of Tareem and Meerat, remember your pain. We have to hold steadfastly to the faith and Tareem and Meerat will reward us for our piety. The curse is our shame, don’t forget it. Remember what we didn’t do and strive to live better lives. Learn from our ancestors. This day is a special day that marks the regeneration of nature and the blessing which we live off. Only with the fertility of Tareem and Meerat can we continue to live it is their bounty that we share, and it is their grace we long for.”

  As Aife watched him speak she felt a stirring in her chest wanting to spread the good will of the gods to all her people, but a slight tingling sensation rising in her crotch concerned her. I have only felt that when watching couples copulate, is it proper for me to feel that way while at service?

  As he preached, a woman from those that sat on the edge of the vestry rose walked to stand opposite the speaking dark elf. She then climbed on to the altar and lay down.

  What is going on? I know I haven’t come to services in years but when did this start? She turned and looked at her father who was watching the ceremony intently.

  What are they going to do? There hasn’t b
een a blood sacrifice in many millennia.

  The preacher then climbed up onto the altar and knelt in front of the woman. She spread her legs wide until they hung off the edges of the altar.

  Aife watched in amazement.

  The preacher then bent down inserted himself into the woman lying on the altar. Aife tried to look away but couldn’t take her eyes off the two. Her legs came up and wrapped around him as he continued to thrust into her. A few moans and groans escaped the pair as they continued. He gasped, and then she dropped her legs.

  He stood up and stood in front of the altar. “The blessing of Tareem and Meerat has been sought. May the gods bless your efforts this cycle.”

  The people got up and began to file out.

  I am so glad I am not the only one that found that compelling.

  “How long has that ceremony been happening?” she asked her father.

  “That happens once every hundred years.”

  Can I ask him about being aroused during the ceremony? No, that was for me what he felt is his own business.

  “I hope you enjoyed the ritual,” the King said as he stood up.

  “What happens if she conceives from today?” Aife asked.

  “The child would be a very auspicious child. It would also mean that the gods have favoured us, and we will have great harvests coming in the new cycle.”

  Aife’s brother followed the King out and she was left sitting in the grass as her ardour slowly faded. Alone in the temple except for a couple of the orange painted women tending to the woman on the altar, she arose and approached them.

  “How may I join you?” Aife asked.

  They turned and looked at her. “You saw today’s ritual, we had no choice in it,” the one sitting on the altar commented.

  A loud thunderclap pieced the room followed by the heavy drumbeat of rain on the tree and ground outside.

  “I know,” Aife replied.

  “It would be better for you if you didn’t join,” commented another, “we were not aware when we joined the ranks of the devout.”

  “I am aware and would still like to join your ranks,” Aife said again.

  An older woman painted with more blue stripes than orange came through the door on the side of the vestry.

  “Mother,” One of the girls bowed. “This woman wants to join our ranks.” She indicated to Aife with a gentle wave of her hand.

  The older woman’s face creased in a frown. She marched up to Aife, until she was a mere centimetre from her. She looked Aife right in the eyes.

  “You’re the Princess.”

  “Yes, I am,” replied Aife.

  “Your breath smells like ale. You were among the revellers last night”

  “Yes, I was,” Aife said. Am I being interrogated?

  The older woman turned back to the others. “Take her below and scrub her thoroughly.”

  Two of the younger women, rushed over and flanked Aife.

  “Caitlin, you will rest up, until we know if Faircheallach has given you a child,” she commanded.

  “Thank you, Mother.” The woman sitting on the altar bobbed her head and then got up.

  Aife was escorted through a door in the vestry, into a corridor with two ornately carved doors on either side and then, through another door at the far end that led into a stairwell. They marched down the stairwell. One of the women led Aife and another followed. At the bottom of the stairwell, was a large chamber with a small pool with running water. To the right were a series of beds neatly made with a trunk at the foot of each bed. Along a wall near the beds was a bench with several pots of paints.

  “What is this place?”

  “This is the acolyte’s rooms,” replied one of the women. “This is where you will stay until you are confirmed.”

  “How long does it normally take?” Aife asked.

  “About a year. But first we need to get you ready. You need a wash and then we need to repaint you.”

  It’s so good to have a purpose again.

  Chapter 8 History

  30th day of the 7th month 579th year of the 8th era

  Akuchi woke to someone shaking him. Mayu stood over him her hair framing her face.

  “Hey.”

  “What time is it?” Akuchi asked sitting up, allowing the sheet to fall.

  “It’s time for food.”

  Akuchi tossed back the bed sheet and stands stretching.

  Mayu handed him his morning ration.

  “I ate better on the farm,” Akuchi groaned.

  Akuchi sat back down on the bed placing his plate on his lap. The plate contained a couple pieces of bread, some egg and what looked like a tuber that Akuchi couldn’t recognise.

  “The food must be rationed, we don’t know when the next food ship will come,” said Mayu.

  They both ate in silence, as they chewed on the hard bread, the eggs the only thing making the meal palatable.

  “There isn’t much variety either,” Akuchi continued to complain.

  “Surely you didn’t have great variety as a farmer?” said Mayu.

  “No, but I got accustomed to eating better on the trip over here.”

  “Ship’s food couldn’t be that great?”

  “I ate at the captain’s table.”

  “Hmm, the captain would have had a good spread,” Mayu agreed as she chewed on her bread.

  “Why aren’t we training today?” said Akuchi.

  “After the workout yesterday followed by the hard ride, we deserved a day off.”

  “Or are you hiding from Oggy?”

  Mayu smiled, not rising to Akuchi’s barb.

  “I heard that the people from Ishtaree don’t like to wear clothes,” commented Akuchi looking at Mayu.

  “Yeah that’s true. We see wearing clothes as a sign of distrust, or ceremony.”

  “That is interesting. For the people of Crece, we don’t worry about clothes too much, but we do wear them, more often than not.”

  “Really,” commented Mayu. “When do you guys dress up?”

  “Well if we were to go outside or about the town. Though I didn’t wear much clothes as a child.”

  “Yes, you mentioned that your family were farmers?”

  “Yeah,” reminisced Akuchi. “We would work the farm from dawn to dusk, after that Mother would send us all to the river to wash. After washing we would have dinner with Father, then we would go to bed.”

  “My parents worked the farm during the day while I was at school,” Mayu started. “When I came home we would all gather and discuss our day as we washed then I would go to bed. Because we lived near Ishtaree wearing clothes could ostracise you.”

  “Why is that?” Akuchi prodded.

  “Well, people would think that you distrusted them,” Mayu explained.

  “My parents were pretty poor,” Akuchi said.

  A loud horn blasted, disturbing the quiet Akuchi and Mayu separated.

  “What is that?” Akuchi asked, watching as Mayu reached into her trunk and pulled out her weapon.

  “We are under attack!”

  Akuchi reacted immediately, grabbing and stepping into his trousers that he had discarded at the end of the bed last night. Once dressed, he pulled out his falchion from his trunk at the foot of his bed and followed Mayu out the door. The horn blasted again. Men and women, all soldiers, were running towards the north-eastern wall. Mayu dashed after them, heading towards the same wall. Akuchi ran after her. The rushing wind cooled his exposed skin. Mayu and Akuchi ran to the wall and entered a door at the base of the tower, then ran up the spiralling stone steps. Their feet padded up the stairs. At the top, they exited through a wooden door that exited to the top of the wall. From the top of the wall, Mayu and Akuchi could see a huge host of trolls over the open grass. Akuchi stood to Mayu’s left leaning over the walls battlements. Behind them soldiers from the fort ran along the length of the wall.

  “This is what we are here for,” Mayu instructed.

  “Those trolls,” said Akuchi. �
�There are so many of them.”

  “The grasslands to the north are extremely vast. In all the years we have not found its end.”

  “The trolls can’t come from the grass,” observed Akuchi.

  “Scouts have gone out and never returned. I believe that those found where the trolls come from.”

  “They have to come from somewhere. Surely they couldn’t come out of the ground.”

  “People have thought that they do.” Mayu laughed. “But I believe that somewhere out there is a troll city, or several of them.”

  Arrows from the soldiers on the battlements let loose, raining onto the troll host.

  “We should get going,” ordered Mayu, “you are not trained on the bow, and we are to be part of the sally force when the Commander orders it.”

  Akuchi nodded and followed Mayu back into the tower and down the steps to the ground.

  “What are to do while this is all going on?” asked Akuchi.

  “We wait,” said Mayu. “And when they bring their ladders we will be ready to push them off.”

  With that Mayu walked away from the wall and headed into the training room, Akuchi followed her.

  ***

  After several hours, Mayu called the practice duel to a halt. She then went over to the table that had been left from yesterday and took another glass of water. Akuchi could see sweat trickling down her back in several places.

  “Why the punishing practice?” Akuchi asked taking a glass of water from her outstretched hand.

  “I am not certain you are ready for real battle yet,” Mayu replied.

  “How will you know for certain?”

  “After your first battle.”

  Akuchi placed his glass down and followed Mayu back on to the duelling ring. He could see that she was angry; her eyebrows were bunched up, giving her face a fierce look.

  “Water stance,” Mayu ordered, taking the relaxed open stance that water stance required.

  Akuchi took the stance himself. Mayu attacked. He blocked as he moved with graceful rhythm, the ebb and flow of water stance allowed for the attacker and defended to trade attacking and defensive postures. Akuchi focused his mind, as he stepped forward and swung his sword in a low arc. A loud clang rand as their swords had clashed.