'There's my boy, the young Horn, ready to become a man!'
Father's voice boomed like thunder across the thatched roofs of Huntloch Village; a voice proud and honourable. Loved by all, so much so, his roar caused the villagers to race to their doors and windows, peek outside, and draw their ears up to listen.
I shrank in his shadow. A Chief who had so much love and gallantry, how could I live up to such a man? 'It wasn't supposed to be me,' I whispered, "you were never born to wear the bonnet.' I wanted to curse Eilor for having me bear his burden, and the weight of a firstborn, but I held my tongue. The Horn God's were listening, and I needed them on my side for the hunt.
'Come, Eroh, come!' My father waved his enormous hand. 'See what I have for you.'
He stood in front of the great torch pit that sat in the middle of the village. The wood was stacked nearly as high as the eastern and western towers. It would be here that they cooked my manhood feast on the morrow, and here where the ceremony would take place. It was a beautiful clearing, filled with freshly carved and oiled cedar tables and benches. And of old ceremony memories of songs, feasts, fights, and dancing. Now it was my turn.
I looked up at my father, trying to keep the pink from my cheeks, which was a hard task under the watchful eyes of the crowd that had gathered.
Father was a great man of tall, strong bones and thick muscles. His face was half-hidden behind a thick braided beard, concealing all but his large brown eyes. Around his torso he wore a large, golden-brown pelt, laced at the chest, with white fox furs around the collar and sleeves. Over it was thick boiled leather, laced and etched with symbols of antlers and axes. The same leathers that matched his greaves and gauntlets. They were father's hunting leathers: each piece still firm and flexible, giving him the ability to move freely, and lunge, and hack with minor restraint.
My leather's had hardly left the tannery; seeing few hunts and not a single battle. I hated wearing them. Each piece sat too hunky and rigidity for my slender frame. The tanner promised they'd become flexible in use, and snug once I'd ripen up — whatever that meant. I adjusted the leather skirt as I took a step closer to my father.
'A gift to you, My Boy!' He pulled his arm from around his back, clutching a long, rounded tipped club. I stretched my eyelids, looking upon the cedar that was smooth, glimmering of oil, and smelling of fresh-split wood. 'Do you like it? I carved it myself.' He beat the head into his calloused palm. 'It is a fine weapon. One that'll build muscle, deflect blows, and end the lives of lesser prey.'
Father took two gallant swings, causing the hairs on the villager's heads to stand. He guffawed, marveling at his work, then held it out to be taken. "Go on, my boy, it's yours."
My palms were clammy. I wiped them on my leather, then took the handle into hand. When I wrapped my fingers around it, father released his hold; the burden was too great. Before I'd balanced the weight, the rounded-head thudded into the dirt, leaving a deep indentation.
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.
Mother put her arms on her hips. 'Because you were the ones who dropped them in the mud.'
I grinned and winked at Lylef. 'And don't you forget it.'
She mumbled profanities beneath her breath.
It was the only way we could explain how they got dirty. Every morning Lylef retrieved the clean robes and leathers to bring them inside. To save a scolding, we lied and told them that she'd dropped them in the muddy puddle near the stream. Lylef wasn't happy that she got the blunt of the blame. But it was the eve of my Manhood hunt and she made the exception. Had I known she'd be cleaning robes for the next month, I might have thought up a better lie.
We stopped at the base of the stairs leading up to where they sat. 'You should've seen him, Yrdrid — a natural — each swing more beautiful than the last' Father shot a proud, Chiefly look in my direction. 'Had the entire tribe in an uproar.'
Lylef rolled her eyes, 'That's cause you were there, father... any villager would be a fool not to cheer in your presence.'
'Lylef!' Mother said, glaring like she cursed. 'Mind your tongue.'
Father chuckled, scratching his beard, and pondered on her words. 'If you were there, you would've seen it,' He told Lylef, 'your brother swung with the finesse and strength of a Chief — And the villagers loved it!'
"This is simply untrue," I chuckled, waving his words away. "Father gives me far too many praises."
'I'll say.'
Mother's nose curled, 'Lylef!'
Father guffawed, 'Praises well earned.'
Lylef rolled her eyes again and went back to scrubbing her robe like she was was trying to remove blood.
'I think you owe your brother an apology,' mother snapped.
Lylef grumbled, 'I think somebody owes me an apology—'
I grabbed my stomach, lifted my chin, and laughed from deep in my belly. 'Oh, mother... Lylef is only teasing me.' I gave a toothy grin. 'Right?'
Lylef sat silently while her eyes darted between mother and father. 'Of course I am,' she giggled dryly, 'Who would think lesser of dear old Eroh? In fact, I bet he could take on a Minotaur if he had to.'
Both my parent's faces lit with worry. But they nodded in agreement. I wasn't convinced they meant it. Father interjected, 'are you ready for the hunt tomorrow, my boy?'
'Ready?' I took the head of the club and beat it into my palm. Pain shot into my fingertips. I grunted and shook the numbness away. 'Am I ever.'
Lylef snorted and giggled.
Mother and father looked around like they hadn't seen it.
Father stretched out his arms, 'you wait. Eroh is going to catch the largest fish in the loch. I can feel it.' He put his hand on the club and his weight, nearly throwing me off my feet. 'Cause you have the heart of a warrior.'
Lylef leaned a cheek against her fist. 'There he goes, boasting about Eroh again.'
'And I'll boast until I die!'
'Careful now, children,' Mother said. Her eyes sparkled at father. 'If you boast as much as your father does, it'll be the only thing written and remembered about you.'
Father caught her gaze and returned a devilish look of his own. He gave a crooked grin, half hidden behind his beard, nudged me, then prowled up the stairs.
Mother knew what that look meant. She outstretched her arms to defend. 'Enoch... don't!'
He said, 'you've awoken the Cervitaur within me.'
Looming over, he bent down, and in one eased motion, swept mother from her chair. She giggled. He silenced her with a kiss.
'Ewww... gross!' Lylef squealed, covering her eyes with her robe.
When mother's face reappeared from behind father's beard, I saw she was red from his whiskers. She caught her breath. Father smothered her with another kiss. I chuckled at their indecency. Lylef shook her head and grumbled.
Father whipped his head around to look upon Lylef and I. 'That is why I love your mother. She is the only person in the world who has the courage to speak to me in truths.' He stroked her cheek tenderly, and she closed her eyes, smiling. "One day you two will know what that feels like."
Lylef snapped, "I'd rather be possessed by skin armour,"
Father and mother's faces paled.
Father's voice boomed, 'Tell me my ears have deceived me.'
"Never repeat those words." Mother's soft tone now cut the air like a knife. "The God's are always listening."
Lylefs shrugged. She never knew when to keep her mouth shut. "Why are these words forbidden?"
I intervened, hoping she'd see I was trying to protect her. 'Because there is no greater pain than to be possessed by Skin Armour.' I recited the words of Elder Kadamyrr Horkkot.
My parents nodded with approval.
Lylef rolled her eyes.
Father set mother back and in her chair, then knelt, resting at a level that matched Lylef's eyes. She felt his gaze, but did everything to keep from finding it. 'Look at me... I said look at me!' Lylef sighed and looked, giving him her 'innocent eyes'. Father was always a softy for them. 'To be possessed by skin armour is to endure the most agonizing death one could imagine. You understand that, do you not?'
Lylef sat silent, but I saw her mind working. 'How do you know?' She asked. 'Have you experienced every death?'
'I have not ... but it is told in the tome tales by our great ancestors.'
'And did they experience every death?' Lylef crossed her arms and corked her head. 'Because I don't know anybody who'd volunteer for that.'
My lip twitched, and I tried to hold back a smile.
Father was less successful. He guffawed loudly. "Hollow hells, Lylef. Do you have to ask questions that would even make the elders ponder?" He turned to mother, 'She's got me like Cervitaur trap ... you take over.'
Mother raised an eyebrow. She too crossed her arms and gave father a hardened look. It was no secret that father wore the horns in the village and mother wore the horns in the house. She tapped her foot.
'I can't help it, Yrdrid,' He chuckled, 'Our dear daughter has a point.'
'She does.' Mother tongue cracked like a whip. 'And you're a great big softy. Watch and learn for the last time, dear.' She looked at Lylef and flicked a finger. 'Sit up!' Lylef didn't hesitate. Mother was using her Lady Horn voice. 'To be possessed by skin armour is to be possessed by evil. Do you understand that?'
Lylef pouted, 'I—I guess so...'
'Let me explain,' Mother said, her tone now soft and welcoming. 'All the Cervitaurs, Boartaurs, and Minotaurs of our lands were once human.'
'I've heard this tale before—'
'Ah ah!' Mother raised a finger. 'It is my turn to speak.'
Lylef lowered her head, 'yes, mother.'
Mother sat up proudly and lifted her chin to project her voice. 'They are our ancestors. And back in the day when the world was young, great Colossi terrorized them.'
Lylef stared at her blankly. She never was fond of Hortz history. I leaned in with both ears open.
'These Colossi ravaged the lands — Destroy villages — And feasted on those who resided within them.' She smiled deviously and her eyes grew wide with wonder. ' That is until the great Tardakk fought back.'
Father raised his fist, 'the greatest warrior of them all.'
'You hush too,' Mother said, narrowing her eyes. Father found a chair of his own and gave her his full attention. She whispered, 'After many battles, and many losses, Tardakk endured, being the first to kill the great horned colossi Gor'Ta'Ban.' She leaned forward. 'And do you know how, Lylef?'
She scratched her chin, 'Skin armour?'
'Yes,' mother nodded. 'You see, Colossi blood holds the power to create the skin armour. And after Tardakk wounded Gor'Ta'Ban, the land was filled with his blood — and they used it — and it molded to their bodies and turned them into the beasts of the land.'
'But I don't understand... father uses Skin Armour.'
'He does. All Hortz warriors do,' Mother said, 'But only when they go to war.'
'Why?'
'Ahem!' Father fisted his chest. 'Cause it can only be worn for so long or it'll take control of its host.'
Lylef looked to mother and father. 'How?'
They both smiled.
Father whispered, 'Because they're alive.'
'Indeed.' Mother grabbed the cervitaur robe and studied it for a time. She lifted it for our eyes. 'And if you allow it to possess you, this is what you'll become... a beast.'
Father's head dropped, 'Tardakk, though a valiant warrior, he consumed by the power of the skin armour. That is why it must be worn with respect.'
'Yes,' Mother said, staring blankly at the ground. 'There is a name for what happened to Tardakk and his people: we call it The Lust of Horns.'
'I still don't understand.' Lylef darted her eyes in my direction. 'Why do Eroh and the men get their true horn, but the woman only get leather horn helms? It was the men who abused the power, not the women.'
Father raised his chin and laughed loud enough to be heard across the village. 'You're your mother's daughter.'
Mother asked, 'And what does that mean?'
I chuckled, 'I think he means, you're both well spoken.'
'Indeed' Father said, raising a fist.
'So, if I understand correctly,' Lylef said, trying to put everything together. 'If you wear the armour too long it'll possess you?'
Father placed a hand on her shoulder and nodded. 'It takes control of you — it extends your life — and it slowly devours your soul. Now would you want that?'
'No,' Lylef said, shaking her head. 'But I'd still love my own set of armor.'
Mother placed a hand on her lips and giggled. 'I'm sure you would, as did I when I was your age. But I eventually learned that the women grow the bellies and the men grow the horns.'
Lylef slouch, 'oh right...' She looked at me. 'Want to trade?'
I rubbed the back of my head and grinned. 'Little Sister, I don't think there is a colossi blood that allows men to bore children.'
We laughed.
Lylef said, 'I would at least like to know what it feels like... you know, to be suited in skin armour.'
'I'll let you know when I get mine,' I promised.
'Maybe you can let me borrow it.' Lylef winked.
I chuckled and then I sat silently as fear crawled down my spine. I shivered. The day of my manhood ceremony was only a fortnight away. And I realized, in getting my true horns, I may fall victim to my skins' possession.