AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Our wedding night is taking place on a rather hot and humid evening. Thank goodness for the breeze which sweeps up the stale air and carries it toward the mountains.
Besides the chest plate and the armbands, I also possess a belt decorated with numerous colored glass beads. The beads tell the story of my exploits as a warrior. When I was a young orc, and my blood was full of fire, long before I ascended to the chieftainship, I added many beads to it. As I grew older, there seemed less time for dangerous accolades. If being chief were easy, I would not have felt the need to go on my long walks and earn the nickname the Longstrider.
“Otunga will be here any moment to anoint you for the ceremony,” Amy says. “Are you excited?”
“Of course, he’s excited,” Laney says with a snicker. “Paige has made him sleep in the living room for the past week so that they’ll, um, have plenty of passion, as she puts it.”
I stare hard at Laney.
“You are too young to speak of such matters.”
“And you are too honest to deny what I just said,” she replied with her eyes shining and full of mischief. I sometimes swear that she is worse than her sister. “Remember, I have the power to make Paige call this off.”
My body tensed, and my hand slapped over my non-beating heart. Laney giggled. “Don’t worry, big brother, you are a perfect match to make our duo a trio.”
A rap at the door gives us a start. It was not made by a closed fist as a human would knock or a flat palm, as an orc normally would. It sounded like wood on wood. Therefore, it’s probably Otunga rapping on the door with her gnarled staff.
Amy rushed to answer the door while Moldar tried to draw himself up to his full height. He made like he was going to put his crutch to rest in the corner, and I growled at him.
“Do not let pride cause you to take a fall, quite literally in this case, old friend. Keep your crutch. Otunga will not mind.” I chuckled low in my throat. “In fact, she would likely grow quite angry with you for not using the crutch she prescribed as part of your continuing treatment and recovery.”
“You are too right about that, my Chief,” he replied, keeping the crutch. He still perked up a little when the door opened, and Otunga came in.
“Welcome, Shaman,” I say with all due respect.
“Bah,” she said with her usual disrespect. “The hour has grown late, and these old bones are tired. Let’s get this over with so us sensible orcs can go to bed.”
She came fully into the home, followed by several apprentice shamans. The apprentices hold clay pots about the size of my fist. I presented myself to Otunga, who dipped her first two fingers in one pot, smearing them with red pigment.
“These lines represent the blood spilled in battle against the enemies of the Shattered Rock tribe.”
She makes two lines on each of my cheeks. Her fingers feel steady despite her advanced age. I think she puts a little bit of her fading magic into the ritual because my skin tingles like I’ve stood too close to lightning.
“Uncover your heart, Chief Jovak.”
I’m not going to argue with the shaman. I take the alligator cuirass off, and she makes a circle around my heart with more red paint. Then she draws a smaller circle inside of it.
“This represents two hearts beating in unison. Two lives conjoined to create a third, a fourth, and, ancestors willing, beyond.”
She chants something under her breath as she finishes the ritual. I swear I feel a tingle in my loins, but it could just be that I’m very excited to see my mate, especially after not having lain with her in so very long. I never thought a week could seem an eternity, but it seems I was sadly mistaken.
“My work is done here,” Otunga says simply, trying to leave. “Now I must make the long walk to the parade grounds on legs that already ache.”
“I could arrange for a litter and have you carried,” I offer.
The withering look she gives me makes me want to shrivel up like a grape in the sun until there’s nothing left. She takes her leave, and I make no further offers.
“Don’t take it personally, my Chief,” Amy says. “You know that Otunga likes to complain. You can’t take away her one great pleasure.”
I have to laugh at that. The sounds of drums echo inside of my breast. It’s nearly time.
“All right,” Laney says, scooting off the kitchen table where she’d been sitting. Why the child seeks to sit everywhere but on an actual piece of furniture designed for it is beyond me. “I’ve got to get going if I’m going to do my duty as flower girl and maid of honor.”
She says it with such prestige as if it’s a sacred duty more important than even the mating between her sister and me. I will not argue.
Laney takes her leave, and I don the alligator vest. Then I realized it would cover the paint on my chest. I don’t want to make Otunga angry. Or should I say, angrier?
I headed out down the lane toward the parade grounds. They lurk beneath the Shattered Rock, a cliff that forms a natural defensive barrier for our settlement. The shamans say the shattered rock was hurled up from the earth during a volcanic eruption long ago before we even came to these lands. Sacred or magical, I don’t know, but I’ve grown up in its comforting presence.
