Erika, A Barbarian's Tale

Chapter One

"Erika, wake up."

"Mmf."

"Come on, little one... git yer butt outta bed."

The freckled teen opened her eyes. "Daaa... the suun ain't even uup..."

"The best time to huunt."

She pulled back the woolen covers to view her father; a mountain of a man, and the village chieftain. "Ach... git outta 'me room so I kin git dressed."

"Ye got 'til I finish 'me ale, then I'm coming in here an' draggin' 'ye outta that bed."

"Jes go!" She waited until she heard the door close behind him before sitting up. "I jes wanna sleep!" She whined as she kicked off her blanket.

Fifteen year old Erika Kuunweister was a princess, but by title only. Storybooks described princesses as beautiful young women who wore extravagant dresses and dreamt of marrying their Prince Charming. Erika was not that kind of princess. She was indeed beautiful, if you could wipe the dirt and soot off of her face long enough to see it, and she had never worn a dress in her life. As for Prince Charming? Erika was too concerned with her own gender identity crisis to be worried about falling in love with some mythical prince. She was born the only child of Erik and Arabel Kuunweister, the King and Queen of the Village of Alkanat in the southern highlands of Talbetha. Erik wanted a son, but since the Gods granted him a daughter instead, he turned Erika into a strange mixture of both.

She sat on the edge of her bed and rubbed her bare feet on the warm bearskin rug, before finally standing and walking to the table that served as her dresser. She picked up her green plaid kilt, a gift from the women in the village, and then she slid into her heavy shirt and finished by throwing her sash over her left shoulder. She then slid into her heavy boots and wrapped her belt around her waist, and then sat on the edge of her bed and buried her head in her hands as her waist-length red hair went everywhere.

"Erika!"

She had dozed off while sitting up, and her father's sudden bark nearly caused her to jump out of her skin. "Daaa! I'm uup!"

Her father released one of those deep-belly laughs that seemed to shake the room. "C'mon, little one, les git goin'."

Erika stood to her full height, which didn't matter to her at the time, because she'd never met anyone from the lowlands. She stretched, retrieved her hunting-spear and followed her father out of the lodge they called home.

The residents of the southern highlands were human, but the outside world called them barbarians. They were taller, stronger, and generally tougher than most other humans, and they still honored the clan-based hierarchy which other humans, elves and even dwarves had abandoned decades, if not centuries ago. Might made right, and the strongest led the clans, while the village elders kept the laws and traditions in place. The system was largely patriarchal, but Erik was planning on convincing the elders to change the law by the time Erika became of age.

The pair left the village in the cold morning air, and as Erika followed her father, her torch illuminated the massive claymore that hung from his back.

"What'r 'ye gigglin' 'bout back there?" Her father asked as they walked.

"Yer sword, Da. It shines like that mirror 'ye brought me back last year."