Fantasyland 02 The Golden Dynasty (16 page)

“He likes men as in, having relations with
them,” I explained.

She nodded and muttered, “He did.”

Yikes!

“They don’t…” it was my turn to pause, “they
don’t allow homosexuality and they –?”

Diandra shook her head. “No, Dax Lahn does,
he does not seem to care. He only punishes those who force it on
others who do not wish it. The other Dax though…” she trailed off
then whispered, “it was unpleasant.”

I bet it was. It was also unacceptable. So
unacceptable, it was hideous.

I pressed my lips together and looked
forward.

“He was cast out, Dahksahna Circe,” Diandra
kept talking to me. “But Dax Lahn remembered he was a fine warrior
under his father’s reign. He remembered he had a sharp mind. He
sent scouts to find him and gave him this role. It is a high
honor.”

I nodded, feeling slightly better about
that (
slightly
) and
even better that Lahn would do that but my mind had turned because
I was watching the clearing and something was happening.

Then it happened.

“This can’t be,” I whispered to Diandra.

I was staring at the little boys lining up
in front of us on the slab of stone at the foot of the dais. A
quick glance to the side showed that Lahn was sitting in his black
throne next to me, still leaned forward, elbow to knee, eyes to the
boys. I looked back at the boys and saw that each had a belt in
which they carried two knives at the sides and each had a leather
strap across their little boy chests that held a sheath and small
sword at a slant at their back, like adult warriors. I also saw
that the knives and swords were made of wood.

And last, I saw that these boys had to be no
more than four or five years old.

What was going on?

“Diandra,” I whispered, my voice
trembling.

“It is their way,” she whispered back, lips
close to my ear and I twisted my head and caught her eyes.

“They’re little boys!” I hissed.

“My queen, it is their way.”

“But –”

She cut me off firmly. “Sit, watch, listen
but do not disgrace yourself or your king. Do not. There is a time
where you can defy your king, there is a time when you can make
your preferences known, he has made this clear, but, Dahksahna
Circe, this is a crucial ceremony to the Korwahk, it guarantees the
future of The Horde so this is
not one of those times.
”

I stared into her eyes and she held my
stare.

Then I pulled in a deep breath.

Then I turned to face forward just as Lahn
barked an order and the little boys immediately flew into action
fighting each other with their wooden swords, knives, and in some
cases, fists and feet.

Oh man. I did not like this. I did not
like this because it was not play. There were little boy grunts of
effort
and
pain.

“
The Dax must see their promise for them to
be chosen,” Diandra said in my ear as the boys fought before me.
“Their fathers spend much time preparing them for the selection and
then their parents bring them here
hoping
even
praying
they
will be chosen warriors.”

“And if chosen, they leave their homes and
train?” I asked, not prying my eyes from the proceedings.

“Indeed, never to go home again until after
their first kill which is usually when they reach seventeen,
eighteen years of age.”

God, it was insane. By that time, they
wouldn’t even know who their parents were!

Then I watched as the man in black robes
started wandering through the fray, holding his hands over
struggling boys’ heads, his eyes going up to Lahn on the dais. I
turned to look at Lahn and saw him jerk his chin up then not a
second later, shake his head sharply in a no. I looked back at the
fray to see the robed man continue through it, holding his hands
over heads then yanking at boys’ arms, sending some to one side
where they sheathed their weapons (if they still had them) and
huddled together and others he tossed (yes,
tossed
) away, indicating they were not selected. These
boys scurried quickly out of the area and to the sidelines, melting
into the crowds, probably to find their parents.

This took awhile, there were a great many
boys, and I watched in the blazing sun and roasting heat of the
fires as the last two boys were separated from fighting, one was
actually bloody and he was tossed aside. The other one was pushed
toward the huddle.

The robed man shouted an order and the boys
lined up at the foot up the steps. I felt Lahn move at my side,
looked and saw him rise then slowly stride down the steps.

Once he was two steps above them, he walked
in front of the boys, his head tipped down. All I could see was his
muscular back which also had a line of paint down the spine, arcs
of it shooting out from the line and I wondered, distractedly, who
had painted his back. He moved slowly down the entire line then he
moved back.

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 fucking possible.

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.

I had flowers but no conversation. The Dax
allowed them to bestow their blossoms on me but they were not
allowed to come close or speak and outside of his arrogant jerk of
the chin, they ceased to exist for him too.

Weird.

Shortly after the celebration began, a
woman moved to Lahn with a silver chalice that she handed to him,
filled from a jug and then she backed away while I stared at her
thinking it didn’t surprise me
I
didn’t get a chalice but it would become clear why very
quickly.

I was to be watered and fed by my king.

No joke.

If he wanted me to have a drink, he turned
to me and offered the chalice which, at first, was filled with what
tasted like orange juice mixed with pineapple and then, later,
water and finally wine. If a woman (and there were a great number
of them) advanced with a tray of roasted meat, roasted vegetables,
slabs of spiced meat, cut fruit, flat breads slathered with what
looked and tasted like herbed hummus or a white yogurt sauce with
cucumber, onion and garlic or even pieces of candy that looked like
creamy white sugar bark doused liberally with nuts and candied
fruit, Lahn would make my selections for me, turn to me, lean into
me, his hand held out and I’d have to take it
not
with my hand (I learned that with a quick,
clipped, bark of “
me
” from Lahn at
the beginning) but with
my mouth
.