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.”