Eyes of the Warrior

Chapter 1

Thun.
Thun.
Thun-thun-thun.
Thun.
Thun.

There are those that think the drums are a terrible and frightening sound. When they hear them, they think of wars and bloody rituals. They don't know the real reason of the drums. They signal the change of seasons, the rise and fall of the Sun, they are for joy when the Moon is once more pregnant and to share sadness with Her when she is barren.

Those that fear the drums are very odd.

"Val-iea, my tiny one. Come, the Sun is up, and it's time to rise and learn from the day." The Matriarch said, her rough-and-soft voice soothing my ear from the screams of my terror-dreams.

"Coming, Mou-mou." The Matriarch laughed at my old pet name for her, reaching out with a dainty, for a adult Orc, hand and ruffling my long hair. Mougr-Lie, Great Future, was her name, and she laughed when I first tried to pronounce her name as the sub-matriarchs let out horrified growls.

"Also, Val-iea, I forgot to tell you." She leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to my head, her long hair free from the bejeweled bindings brushing softly at the sides of my face. "Happy Finding Day."

A smile broke out on my mouth. "It is my Finding Day, isn't it, Mou-mou?" I scrambled up onto my knees and hugged her around her shoulders. "Thank you, Mou-mou. Love you."

Her hand petted my tangled hair affectionately. "And I you, my Tiny Warrior. Now, out of bed, there are many things to do before the celebration, and not much time to do everything."

"I'll be down soon, Mou-mou. And no, I won't dawdle, swear on my blade."

She huffled happily and walked out of my little room, pulling the curtain back across the mouth as I pulled myself from my small, but comfortable, bed, scooting my feet across the smooth, buffed stone floor.

The Matriarch had laid out my clothes, like she does whenever there's an important occasion, claiming I have the fashion sense of a mule. A thin, soft dress made from traded silk that was a deep blue as dark as the night sky and decorated with black stones that the men dug from our mines, a thick, heavy belt made of the same stones, each as large as my thumb, and the slick pelt of a black mountain beast. The Matriarch said that the darkness suited my looks perfectly.

I chuckled sadly. She's trying to find me a husband again.

In the traditional tastes of most the men of our tribe, I'm very, very far from ideal. An ideal wife is tall and wide, with dark skin, light hair, and a deep but soft voice. I was the exact opposite of that, with my short stature and slender frame, moon-tone skin, pitch colored hair, and high voice that, if I tried, could carry for a good distance. In her prime, the Matriarch was an ideal lifemate, and the Chieftain was lucky to have her accept his courtship.

He wasn't overly happy when the Matriarch brought me home, frightened and small. He though she had gotten attached to something weak and delicate that would die in a few days, and tried to make her put me back.

I believe he got attached to me when I bit him as he tried to take me from her.

Shargul, Furious Roar, as the Chieftain and my foster father is named, is a good, brave Orcman, and a smart one as well. Mougr-Lie told me that he was the one that created the treaties with Man, and is the reason that younglings can go into cities without fear, and can learn the ways of magic.

"Val-iea, your mother said you were going to be swift. Did you fall sleep on your feet again?" The Chieftain's rough, booming voice broke me out of my thoughts, and I could hear his large fingers tap-tap-tapping on the side of the opening.