Athaniel's Libation Ch. 02

"Elliana, you know I was just trying to declare that you were off limits," I said, smiling along with her.

She pouted and then leaned into me. With her head on my shoulder, she snaked a hand down to my breeches to give me a poignant caress "You could show them better."

I shook my head and laughed. "After that ride, Elliana, I'm not sure if I could."

Lethania joined us. She gently took Elliana's hand in hers, but didn't berate her for her games. Then she looked impassionately at the humans while she spoke. "We probably shouldn't stay." She said.

I followed her gaze and shook my head. "Nothing good would come of it."

And so, the moment we had all been dreading had come. For two days we had inched our way closer to it, trying to put it off by making every moment as slow and intentional as we could. But time never stopped, and here we were, on the cusp of something so vast that none of us could comprehend it.

The people gazed at us and leered lasciviously as I mechanically embraced my companions one by one. An icy grip grasped my heart, but I gritted my teeth and kept my feelings firmly in check. Asantha be damned if I gave this mob the satisfaction of seeing my pain. No, I would not spill a single tear there. Instead, I added them to the smoldering anger that I had banked inside me.

Soon I stood and watched my lovers ride up the same grassy slope. They looked back at me as they reached the crest. Then their silent, hollow gazes disappeared over the edge. They were gone. And I was alone.

"Four wives, huh? You must be a busy man." One man joked behind me, followed by loud laughter.

I turned around and stared down at them dispassionately. "I have all the time in the world."

Some carried on laughing. Too drunk or too stupid to even get my slight. Others stopped with their faces turning stony.

So much for brokering a peace. I should keep my mouth shut. What are insults worth anyway, if spoken to vermin?

"Leave the man be Kaelfred," said Forna, who was sat on a tree stump on the opposite side of the fire. He pushed himself up slowly with his hands on his knees and nodded at Zanael, my practise blade, which I had strapped to my back.

"Lord Athaniel. I do apologize," he said. "But the agreement was that you would bear no weapons."

"No offence taken, Forna. This my practise blade. It is made of wood and holds no edge. I use it to practice my stances. It is more ceremonial than anything."

His expression remained doubtful. My words had clearly failed to persuade him. His arms were crossed firmly over his chest and his brows were knitted in contemplation as he slowly shook his head.

"My kind has a daily practise," I tried to explain myself again. "You could say it is more like a dance." One of his men choked, spraying his drink to everyone's obvious entertainment. "It is a very important part of my daily routine and would strengthen me greatly, while so far away from home."

I was pleading. With a bunch of dirty, inebriated humans. Not for the last time, I had to remind myself that they would all die in a few years.

The man Forna shrugged. "All right then," he said. "Keep your stick." But his face wasn't laughing, and he gave me a curt nod.

The one called Kaelfred made a face of exaggerated affront and looked to the men around him for agreement. For the most part, they paid him no heed. But a few deigned to incline their heads in a show of accord. I assumed this was emblematic of the kind of petty power games exhibited by many patriarchical species that lived in bands.

We slept around the fire. Or at least, they slept while I listened to them snore and stared at the stars and pondered my strange fate.

The men drifted off one by one, lulled to slumber by the crackling flames and a weariness born of a hard day's ride and an even harder day's drinking. Their sonorous snores rose in a discordant chorus as they surrendered to oblivion. I listened to them sleep and stared at the stars while I pondered my strange fate. Had any fadal ever been permanently separated, not only from his zinthrasa, but from all fadalthlaien? I couldn't be the first to face this plight. How had they preserved their sanity?

But at least for now, I thought gratefully, I was well and truly sated from my ride with Elliana. But tomorrow the waters of Zinth would stir my blood again. And in a few days, I would be alone with only humans for company. I tried to imagine their women. Were they as loud and as dirty as their male counterparts? And... another thought crept up on me. Were they as voluptuous as Waentsin had made them out to be? I remembered his obscene two handed squeezing gesture. I felt dirty. And curious. And a little warm. But, I decided firmly, better to banish all such thoughts and hold on to this momentary state of satisfaction for as long as my body allowed me.

The next morning, the men broke camp in grumpy silence but with, admittedly, more efficiency than I had thought possible. They gave me the use of a horse, a young ruddy mare that had little more spirit that the one that had rocked me to completion so many times on my journey here. Then we rode into the human lands.

I had heard stories, of course, of the grim reality that presented itself to me. But witnessing it with my own eyes was an entirely different thing. I soon choked on the horror that unfolded itself around me. The earth was bald. Divided into large square patches. The soil was broken and red, divided into square patches. Some had stumps of whatever had grown there standing in ghastly rows. Others still had plants growing row after row. And some were just that: bald, broken earth. I saw men with enormous horses pull a large blade behind them, literally cutting deep gashes in the earth.

Finally I asked Forna, who had been riding next to me the whole day. "What are those men doing to the earth?" It wasn't easy to keep my voice level.

He looked at me in surprise. Behind me, I heard some men chuckle derisively. "They are plowing the fields. It makes them more fertile and prevents weeds from growing. Soon they will sow the new crops."

"Crops?" I asked. Confused.

"Food." He said after thinking for a moment.

It seemed like a lot of work.

"You can't just pick your food from the forest?" I asked.

"We have a lot of mouths to feed, Lord."

Ancient forests must have stood here not too long ago. And now it was all squares of barren ground. Fields, as they called them. The humans were literally eating the earth. But what would happen when there was no more earth to eat? And where would the fadal be?

Two days went by before we reached their town. Two days of having to listen to their jokes, which were obviously all at my expense. And two nights of listening to them grunt and groan like rutting wood pigs.

Not that I expected life in Kinborg to be much better. But, I was hoping, I'd at least have some kind of private space to retreat to. Surely they were as eager to have me out of their sight as I was to stop seeing them scratch their groins.

The city was a collection of small buildings, leaning against each other in tight rows along a maze of snaking, muddy roads. It looked like if you took pulled one such hovel out, the rest would all fall over. A few times I found myself gawking up, scared that a particularly ramshackle building would crumble right on top of me.

Dirt streaked humans in ragged brown clothing gazed up at us with hollow eyes. Their fields didn't seem to be very effective at feeding their 'many mouths.' It was a place full of rough voices shouting and the stench of excrement made the air thick. It was all I could manage not to toss my breakfast over the side of my horse.

Looming over the town stood a large, squat stone building. Its walls rose straight from the hillside like a square monolith. And its crenellated top silhouetted defiantly against the blazing orange sky. This, I surmised, was Kinborg, the monarch's keep. Built for war, erected in defense, all imperative in a world defined by endless territorial strife.

It must get a fresh breeze at least, I told myself with some relief, being up high on that hill as it was.

No one welcomed us as we rode into the keep. Guards posted by the gate gave Forna a curt nod before staring blankly at me as we rode through. Inside the wall was a large courtyard. Large and small buildings leaned against each other and against the walls haphazardly, in a way that reminded me of the town at the bottom of the hill.

"We're just in time for the evening meal." Said Forna. "I'll have to show you to your chambers afterwards."

The horses were handed off to some boys to be taken care of and Forna strode purposefully towards a double door large enough for a man to ride through astride.

Two guards were posted there as. Maybe, I decided, because anyone but a giant would need help even opening those doors. They nodded to Forna with something like respect and stared at me like I was an alien.

As soon as the doors cracked open, a din of voices hit me. We entered underneath a low-roofed vault, supported by square stone pillars, and walked into a large hall. It had some windows, placed strangely high up the walls. The light didn't seem to reach all the way down. Instead, fire burned in sconces that were attached to the pillars that surrounded all sides of the room, except for the opposite wall. There, some people sat on a raised platform, backed by a large, brightly colored banner with a crude depiction of a wolf. Shockingly, preserved heads of animals lined the walls, a proud display of all the large mammals that used to roam these lands. My stomach turned, and I stumbled before I forced my eyes away from that horror to fall on the sea of humans, sitting at rows of long trestle tables.

Young women in brown dresses sped back and forth purposefully between the tables. They carried large pitchers and platters heaped with food and mostly ignored the raucous banter going on around them. I saw one wince and swat away a wandering hand, soliciting loud laughter from the men whose cups she was refilling.

Except for the serving women, the room was mostly filled with men. I only saw a few women here and there, sitting silently. They looked out of place among all the noisy brutes, who were laughing, yelling, and trying to one-up each other with their teasing and their jokes.

Even for humans, everyone looked young. Few grew old here, it seemed. With the exception of King Witta the Wolf, the doddering old man with a vacant look in his sunken eyes that was sitting on the throne in the middle of the dais. He made Old Father look sprightly.

Next to him on the was the one I had seen before, Waentsin, who I assumed was the king's son. He was a fierce-looking specimen that tried his best to inspire loyalty by raising his large but humble looking stone mug to anyone who made a bad joke. With such complete and utter disregard for the foamy liquid sloshing all over the place, he must stink of the vile liquid they all seemed to revere.

When I enquired about him with Forna, I found out he was in fact not the son of the wolf, but married to the King's granddaughter, Innifer. They hadn't produced an heir yet, so his situation was not as secure as he made it look. Even taciturn Forna, in his thrift of speech, made plain there were rumblings amongst the people.

Five years they had been married. And whispers were abound that Innifer might be barren. Forna pointed her out to me. She was a homely-looking woman with a smile that made a thick wrinkle beneath her chin. Her eyes were enormous, dark, almost bovine, and had a fearful, stricken cast to them, especially when she smiled politely at her husband's loud jokes.

Even so, she had been the first lady I had spotted when I entered the crowded room. And how could I not? Her breasts were of such a size that I could barely comprehend it. Nothing had prepared me for this. Even Elliana, who until I walked into this room, had been my definition of voluptuous, now turned out to be slim, almost thin in comparison.

I wondered how this woman could even walk or do... things. The idea of her hunting, or performing any kind of physical task, was downright ludicrous. I pitied the woman for having to carry such a burden. Again, I remembered Waentsin's suggestive gesture at the parlay, and suddenly I realized, with a pang of anger, what he had really been referring to. His men had roared in laughter, all at the expense of this woman.

My sympathy for her plight, however, did not prevent a more primal part of me from wondering what it would feel like to have all that flesh spilling out of my hands. Soon, I was squirming in my seat and had to force myself to think of cleaning fish, and when that didn't work, I resorted to remembering my ride with Elliana so at least I had an oozing hard-on for someone appropriate. My period of relative satiation had officially come to an end.

Trying to distract myself, I asked Forna about the woman next to the princess, who sat quietly, with dark pools for eyes, observing calmly. She watched everything around her while seeming entirely separate from it, as if it was all a play staged for her entertainment.

"She's Innifer's younger sister," Forna explained. "Sofar she has refused to marry... they say she's frigid." He snorted. "I say she just has standards. But..." He waved his chicken leg to the man called Waentsin. "The old wolf is all but senile now and it's that lot that calls the shots now. Even if she wanted to get married, it would be him she'd be looking to for permission. And they don't like each other much."

The politics of succession were already making my head spin. How cumbersome to be playing this game every few decades when yet another ruler grew too old and feeble to do his duty.

I watched as princess Mala glanced down calmly at the display of flesh her sister had draped over the table beside her. When she looked back up, her eyes fell straight on me. She inclined her head ever so slightly with... was that hint of a smile? The smallest lift of the corner of her mouth? Or did I imagine it?

I gave her a nod back, equally subtle, but enough to acknowledge her. She was, after all, the only person sofar, who seemed to have noticed my presence.

"Music!" someone roared. When I tore my eyes away from the princess, I found Waentsin rising from his chair unsteadily. "My brothers!" he roared. "Because we have a guest tonight..." He vaguely brandished his spilling ale in my direction, the first sign that any of them were aware of my arrival. "...I have a special treat for you. I give you your most beloved Willia brothers!"

All the men roared and raised their mugs. The old king looked up at his grandson in law, angling his head awkwardly as if it was an effort to see past his drooping eyelids. He started clapping as if the music had already started, the skin of his arms swung loosely as if he was a small child dressing up in his father's shirt.

On walked three musicians bearing instruments I had never seen before. One was a skin stretched over a large wooden ring. The other two were string instruments of different sizes.

When the musicians lined up in front of the dais, a hushed silence settled over the crowd. Then they struck the first note, and another roar broke loose. All the men, and looking around it was mostly men, started stomping their feet to the simplistic rhythm. Then the musicians struck up in a cheerful voice about bloodshed and heroics. Some battle I had never heard of. Each verse was about a different hero killing bad guys with mighty swings of his sword. Then the song would repeat the same few lines again and the entire hall would roar along.

The singers' voices were as crude as their playing. But they sang loud enough to be audible over the crowd, which was an impressive feat in its own right.

They performed a few more songs like this, each garnering a little less response as the crowd lost interest and focused once again on their bad jokes and their sloshing mugs. Then, for the next song, the musicians switched to a slower meter, a ballad of sorts. When they started singing, I was surprised to hear it was about an elven warrior, tirelessly practicing with his sword in the woods. He wielded it with such passion and intensity that the beauty of it would make anyone swoon.

The song appeared to be a very obvious allegory, but as I checked around me nervously I only saw the men, including Waentsin, engrossed in their banter, waving their stone tankards and obscenely groping the women who came to top them up.

None of them showed any sign that right in front of them, a singer was singing about how great it was to wander into the forest and get fucked silly by a fadal hunter. Not even the singer himself seemed to think much of it.

But I caught several of the ladies dotted around the room glancing at me with blushes rising on their pale-skinned faces. They would quickly divert their eyes, of course, when they met mine. All but one, because the princess Mala studied my reaction carefully with her opaque eyes that seemed to see everything and give away nothing. She definitely did not blush, nor was there any suggestion in her gaze.

While the singer carried on about how this elf had to practice tirelessly, for the rest of eternity, almost like he was posessed, Innifer glanced at me as well. She quickly averted her gaze when she realized I noticed, but a blush flushed her cheeks. Red blotches made it all the way down her neck while she pointedly looked anywhere but in my direction.

When the song finished, Waentsin stood up again, wavering on his feet. "Lord Athaniel!" he shouted.

I was unsure what was expected of me. In a moment of confusion I made to stand up, but Forna's hand gave a gentle push on the thigh underneath the table. I realized its meaning quick enough.

"I hope you enjoyed our song," Waentsin drawled. "I asked the singers to sing something about your kind, but they only knew one song and it was boring." He grinned at that, and I heard some suppressed snickers throughout the hall. It was an underhanded stab, made all the more humiliating because it was aimed at me by someone who had missed the gist of the song entirely. This was the man whose armies beat our kind into submission? Whatever gods they worship must have a cruel sense of humor.

"We hear you are a formidable warrior, lord Athaniel. Do you practice tirelessly like this?" He asked.

"I practice daily, lord Waentsin. I cannot do without." I answered coolly.

"We count ourselves lucky then. That there are so few of you. Or you would rule this world."

I gritted my teeth. My kind had ruled this world when this vermin were still picking fleas off each other's backs. And I couldn't say they had progressed much beyond that point. Except for their capacity for destruction.

Somewhere in the back of the hall, someone jested. "Maybe they should practice less and fuck more." And the entire hall, including Waentsin, broke out in thundering laughter.

When the laughter petered out, Waentsin continued. "We welcome you here in our midsts, Lord Athaniel. I hope Forna will make sure you have everything you need to get settled." He raised his ale high. "Here's to lasting peace between our peoples!" Forna nudged my arm and I scrambled to raise my cup of water.

"Peace!" Waentsin shouted. The men started to slam the backs of their knives on the table, making a clangor that hurt my ears. It was hard not to grimace. "And silver!" Another voice shouted, illiciting more laughter.

"Peace... and silver!" Waentsin laughed.

And that was the extent of my welcome as an emissary.

The meal drew by, hour by excruciating hour. Nothing of interest happened, or if it did, the ever building crescendo of drunken noise drowned it out. I was sure I now must have a furrow permanently etched into my forehead from all the times I'd winced or grimaced at another booming bout of laughter that ran knives through my ears.