Spirit Warrior - The Son of the North

Son of the Gods - III

It's the day of the spring feast. The sharp edge of the dagger slides easily though the raw meat. I clean the last of the three lambs we're having for supper: I've skinned it and cleaned the back side of the fur. Now the only thing missing is to hang it up. My hands are bloody and the air is thick with the sickeningly sweet smell of blood.

The lambs are now hanging from the sealing the barn, waiting to be seasoned. I turn my head abruptly when the door to the barn opens. A woman steps in; her head is bowed down so that I can't see her face. Her curves are beautiful through. Even though she is hidden behind brown rags, it's impossible not to notice her buxom body.

She comes closer to me, and I step back from the dead meat hanging from the ceiling. She raises her head so that I can finally see her face. It's the slave girl, from the night before I killed the cave lion.

Now I can actually see, the color of her hair is not the blonde I first presumed. It's a light brown color; some stands lighter than others. It's been bleached by the sun, from working in the fields. Most of the lush hair is hidden by a dirty cloth. I presume it was white once, but now it's barely holding together.

She steps around the lambs hanging from the ceiling. "You've cut them well,"

Her voice is as smooth as honey, making me shiver slightly. I don't like my body's reaction to her; I force down the spinning feeling in the pit of my stomach.

She slowly lifts her eyes to look into mine; I feel my mouth drop open at what I see. Her eyes are a deep, dark brown, like the earth just beneath the surface of the lush green grass. I feel my feet moving of their own accord and I don't even try to keep them still. I want to get a closer look at those eyes. As I stare into them, reading every feeling I can get. I already know she's nervous, just by looking at the way she's fidgeting. She keeps shifting her weight from one foot to another, like she wants to bolt any minute. She's so mesmerizing. As I stare into her eyes I find nothing of what I find in Eris's eyes.

I find no trace of the Grandmistress' influence, I only see genuine curiosity. She has freckles over the bridge of her nose, which is slightly crooked. It looks like it was broken once and never set properly. The way her under lip quivers slightly teases me, making me use all my will power not to claim them, to make them stop quivering.

"Did you learn it from Eska?" That name has been uttered by no one since he left for the other side. Sometimes when I lay awake late at night I think of that day. For the first time I felt utterly alone. I always thought that I was alone, that no one cared. How wrong I was. Being loved is a warm feeling, and that day he left I felt coldness like no other.

A sweet voice once again reaches my ears, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked," She turns to inspect the lambs, as if the dead meat is extremely interesting. I turn on my heel spinning around so fast I'm afraid my head could have fallen off.

In the doorway stands a huge shadow. The person turns slightly to the side, showing its profile, giving away its identity. As I expected, Hergar Crownsman.

"Come on lad... it's about to start,"

I furrow my eyes together, trying to figure out what he's talking about. As usual, Hergar doesn't give me any time to think any second thoughts. He leaves the door frame but lets the door stand open for me. I hesitate for a second, looking down at my skin-clad feet. I clench my fists at my side. Why am I hesitating? Furious at my own weakness I storm out of the door, my beautiful bloom long forgotten.

Five men young men are standing tall in the middle of the court yard. I know each and every one of their faces, and how I loathe them. I walk to stand beside Hergar. The Crownsman is standing at the outskirts of the group, looking around with elevated peace. The rite of passage is where the young freemen are to show themselves worthy of being men. The catch is that they have to be son of a freeman, or have a guardian to stand for them. I have none of those, which means I'm not worthy. The worst thing is that I know I can do it better than them. It's not fair that I'm to be judged by my kin, or lack of thereof. I look up to Hergar to find that he's looking at me intently. His eyes have a gentle hue to them, like he's reliving a dream.

"What am I doing here?" I say, clenching my fists, looking back to the young men and their guardians.

"You will soon see..." he says in a easy voice I hear him drawing a big breath. I furrow my brows at him, throwing him a sideway look, but the giant remains silent.

The Grandmistress hoarse voice yells out, "This is the rittans!"

The men hail in high voices, but even through the noise Hergar's voice slices though.

"You are missing one old hag!" Everyone turns to look at us; I feel my heart jumping up in my throat. My heart is beating so fast, I'm afraid everyone else can hear it.

Hergar doesn't seem to mind: he just walks forward with ease. I force my own shaky legs to walk after him as we walk to the Grandmistress I glare at his back. How is it that he always puts me in these situations and pushes me out of my comfort grounds?

"He's not a freeman's son and he has no guardian," one of the young men yells angrily at Hergar. For the first time I see fire flashing in Hergar Crownsman's eyes. He strides over to the young man narrowing his eyes at him dangerously

"What do you know?" he sneers driving fright into the young man.

"I will stand for him!" He yells in a strong voice, silencing everyone immediately. My heart is beating so fast that I'm afraid it'll pop right out of my chest. He'll stand for me? After a few seconds of silence, the yelling starts. The noise is ramming against my eardrums, repeatedly.

The Grandmistress' voice cuts off all the yelling "He can participate!" Her voice leaves no room for discussion. I feel a strong hand on my shoulder and look up to Hergar as he leads me to stand beside the others. I feel him standing behind me; now that my heart has calmed down I feel a victorious feeling steering in my gut.