The Lust of Horns

EROH II

Chuckles came from the villagers, though silenced by my father's glare.

'You made it seem like you were holding a spoon, Father.' I chuckled, easing the tension in the air, giving the villagers the courage to smile and laugh once more.

Father's brows rose from their sunken region above his nose. Suddenly his teeth appeared behind his thick mane. He bellowed, 'Is that in truth?' He guffawed above the crowd. 'Don't you worry, my Boy. In good time, you'll be holding it with the same certainty as I. Now ... Give it a man's hurl.'

Silence spread amongst the villagers. I felt their cold and questioning eyes, watching to see if I had the same prowess as their Chief. They would not follow a weak man, nor did I expect them to.

'This is my moment,' I whispered, 'may I show them how I've grown.'

I kept my feet still and twisted at my hips, allowing the club's head to roll along the dirt. Once positioned, I squatted, tensing the muscles in my thighs and calves. 'That's where the power comes from,' my father often said, 'through strong legs.' And with that, I felt energy push downward from my hips. When it met the balls of my feet, I lunged upward, jerking the club with me. The swing had a beautiful arch, starting at my heels, curving above my head, and falling to my toes.

The crowd hooted and hollered. I looked back and waved, giving them my best smile.

When they went silent, I rubbed my hands together, spat, then swung again. Ooooyaaaaa! Ooooyaaaaa! Ooooyaaaaa! Their voices rang with each swing. Father's rang loudest, leading them the entire way up and down.

He patted my head. 'You see this,' he said, jabbing a finger in my arm. A dull pain shot down to my hand. I grunted. 'Mark my word, my boy here will be the strongest man in all the land.'

They cheered, and they shouted. Father roared with laughter. And I stood silently wondering if he meant anything he said.

Once the crowd dispersed, we headed home. Father did his best to wave at every man, woman, and child he passed. I did the same, though they showed me little interest. I didn't mind ... I never liked their eyes on me.

After ten minutes we reached our cottage. It was the largest cottage in Huntloch Village: built of thatched roofing and wattle walls. The foundation sat on a stilted platform tall enough to allow the stream to pass beneath; even on a stormy day. Father built it this way to keep the villagers from feeling divided.

On the western side lived the robust villagers; each Lord bred husky and brutish. They were the muscle of Huntloch: hunters, fishermen, gatherers, and warriors. I spent most of my time in their presence; at the sparring ring, the gambling halls, and the archery range. It was their company I preferred, cause they did the bulk of the laughing — and the bulk of the fighting.

On the eastern side were the wisest villagers; the Tauralytes and the Lord elders. Most of them were tall, fat, or dainty folk; each more serious than the last. But they were closest to the Horn Gods, therefore father had me pay tribute to their causes, to stay mindful and patient.

'Welcome back,' mother said, waving from the porch. She had my lighter complexion. Blue eyes. Long black hair. And bright, pink lips that fit her thin, cheeky face. Wrapped around her was an elegant robe filled with horned patterns and beads. 'We heard all the ruckus. How'd it go?'

Father beat his chest, 'a young Chief after my own heart.'

Mother smiled, rocking in her chair, and scrubbing the last bit of dirt off my robe. Lylef looked less amused scrubbing her own. 'How come I had to stay home and wash robes while Eroh was out getting gifts.' She glared at my club.