Barbaric Spouse, Descry the Night's Lure-Chapter 81: Scene LXXXI
"Fuck." — After the sound of their shared chamber’s door closed, in a thick curse, growling with swallowed frustration, Aslak stomped away rapidly to the empty Falling Lane from which he would drop speedily in the obscure night to land on the ground below his Castle.
Torches of the wild men and their holders waited for the one Leader, the Archduke who would head the crawl through the unpredictable ground the hazardous Sortnafeigr instilled.
"Myrkzver." — Otrur Nolsvun welcomed him prominently with tied hair at low height, wearing the thick fur of strong leather and simple armour they were accustomed to wearing below.
"Everyone’s here, right?"
"Yes."
"Alright."
Turning on his feet, many men and women stood ready to listen to the words explaining this dangerous journey that although they had heard the song of their tribe’s hand... a goal was needed, a target... a desired hunt, should be conveyed for them to search.
Taking the fur and Axe of his kin on hand to wear over the simple blouse he still wore, Aslak talked to the many savages that would march along him into the wildness, before assembling his outfit to match his people’s.
"High men, Titans... they are cracking the ground as they like... The song you heard of a fellow returnee... Everybody already knows the kind of battle this earth we belong to has thrown up into the territory it raised us." — Solemn silence reigned upon the many villagers. Those that would stay and those that would depart. Yet it was a special hush, filled with thrill and expectancy as the silent air of silver mist clearing below the crag incited the smirks of any aware of the danger this entailed.
His amber hues peeked above where a chamber he had soaked in passionate heat kept his woman. And although the need to stay was enticing his chest, the illusion of a terrible fight made him eager to continue and give a start to the exploration. For the goal of this trip and the prize on his return were fantastically encouraging.
"Deny a beast’s menace with amber sight." — He growled excitedly at the vibrations he already could feel on the dirt beneath his feet.
"Butcher the hunt." — A growl of calm savages together buzzed ominously to the dark ahead. Preparing to roar the last bit of a pledge only those meant to go into battle would shout, adding the threatening guttural cheers.
"Peel its heart and dry it of blood."
Vicious, the tribe repeated to ululate a fatidic chorus that made them join the light tremors of those creatures far into the nooks provoked.
"It’s time! We have to get there before the tremors separate the roots!! We are taking a few horses and will walk at night! Food is little but beasts suffice in the wild!... Let’s get to their throats now."
Joined agreement from the savages was heard and witnessed. And as the others commenced to walk towards the dark southeast, he finished the wear of the shoulder pads along with the special coat of a jahzara.
"My Lord." — Sire Kir came near, handing again the spiked axe and gloves without fingers he would need. — "How’s the lung? I’m still surprised that the Ma’am is the fate of Sortnafeigr’s owner."
"... I don’t know." — Wearing the globes, Aslak answered watching a dimly lit chamber... That as he watched, became invisible in the dark. — "I’m feeling out of breath already."
"!?... Heh. And you never believed in legends–"
"I still don’t. But this one can be the exception."
"..."
"Let’s go. We should get good wood or iron if those are the kind of high men lurking out of the cracks."
The man coldly told the Constable of the Jazhara’s Tail Guard who could feel the seriousness of a savage lord deepens at the thought of his woman.
The wide back of the corpulent Master was watched as he followed and glanced back at the high roof of piled stones that was his Lord’s home.
’She seemed pitiful when we went to retrieve her... He even paced by her side and ignored the Ma’am.’ — Taking a moment to think of the start of the Archduke’s marriage, Kir looked down at the almost unnoticeable footprints under a dark sky lit by small torches.
Following behind along with the gentle horses and some other comrades, Kir then sneered at the strong Lord whose wildness and manliness enhanced after the woman’s appearance.
"Legends are true... His lung feeds his soul. I wonder what gemstone he will give." — He said, amused.
A lung feeds the partner’s soul... The barbaric legends of the old heard from the earth told such truth.
Like the human body a man and a woman share, the lungs impulse the right work of a human heart. The core that kept alive a soul’s vessel, the one that drove its life through the time spent on the ground... Solely that this legend held other significance, pertaining not only to the importance of one partner to the other, but by what filled such illusioned lung so greatly and better than the purest air itself.
Attachment, tenderness, allegiance... Sentiments were those that filled the legendary lung in the barbarians’ tales. Surmounting to that one tremendous that most called "love" as the woman did. Yet the savages called "Fatædi"... The seed of zeal amour... For it would root within the core of the legendary lung and clean its air with the heat of the soul, for its presence and existence was as dangerous a marvel.
"Heh... Darn his luck..." — Kir uttered in awe. For he knew the deepness of the word to the Sortnerers. — "Finding one to call his fatædi... Our Lord is either too cared for or deeply hated by the earth he reigns."
Speeding up to join the many men marching into the empty dark which the stars did not aid with its light, the Barbarian Constable walked satisfied again, just as he was when hearing the news from Aslak at the training walls in the Jazhara’s Square.
Nonetheless, he who also was aware of the tales and was experiencing them could not care for the deepness of their origins. Because it was such deepness that prohibited him to think of other matters and could only have the woman in his mind to make this departure a brief one.
