Free The Third Apprentice by Lana Axe

they ate them,” Zamna replied with a wicked
smile.
    The women busied themselves preparing the evening
meal. A large stag was hoisted over a flame, and rounded cakes of dough were
baked inside clay ovens. The smells filled the two men’s nostrils, and their
stomachs rumbled in response. In a land with few visitors, they felt as if they
were guests of honor at a feast. A woman with red stripes painted on her face
brought them each a horn full of mead. She dared to give Zamna a quick kiss on
his cheek before returning to her work.
    The sunset created a bright-orange hue that lit
the sky ablaze. The scent of roasting meat had grown so strong that Taren
wasn’t sure how much longer he could wait to eat. Luckily he wouldn’t have to
wait much longer. The first star appeared in the sky, signaling the women that
it was time to commence their evening meal. Along with their guests, they
formed a circle around the bonfire at the center of the village. The priestess
was given first choice of meat, and she invited her guests to join her.
    Taren filled his wooden plate with strips of
venison and a second with a pile of fresh greens. Zamna followed suit, also
requesting a refill of mead. The women were happy to oblige and filled his
empty drinking horn to the brim. They sat upon log benches, enjoying the
bountiful meal before them as the stars continued to appear in the sky.
    Ursla took a seat next to Taren, a bone covered
with meat in her hand. “How do you find our hospitality?” she asked.
    Taren’s mouth was too full to respond, so he
nodded his head instead. Ursla seemed pleased with his response and smiled
before taking a few bites from her bone. There were many conversations taking
place at once, and the mixing of voices filled the air. The noise died down as
five women approached the fire and began to dance. They stomped their feet and
waved their arms, telling a story that was unfamiliar to the travelers. The
movements were graceful at times and harsh at others, conveying a range of
emotions through dance. The low beating of a single drum kept time, and the
audience remained quiet and still. When the dance concluded, the women stood in
silence with their heads bowed for a brief moment. After a suitable pause, the
crowd applauded and whistled.
    Taren wondered if the women always danced alone.
In his homeland, he had never seen such a dance. Men and women danced together
at various functions, but he had never seen any dance that told a story.
Turning to Ursla, he asked, “What story did they tell?”
    “It’s an ancient tale of wandering,” she replied.
“My people traveled far to find this land. Many souls were lost along the way,
but we have prospered since coming here.”
    He could contain his curiosity no longer. “Where
are the men of your tribe?”
    “They live separately from us,” she said. “It
works better that way. No fighting over mates. We hold a special feast once a
year to join with them. We trade, mate, and share information at that time.”
    “I don’t see any children among you,” he remarked.
    “A child lives with his mother for two years
before he is given to his father,” she explained. “The father teaches the child
strength and hunting. After that, our daughters are free to rejoin us here.
Boys remain with their fathers.”
    The custom seemed strange to Taren, but it seemed
to work well for these people. He had no right to judge. His own upbringing had
been atypical by human standards, and he felt he’d turned out well.
    “Now you can answer some questions for me,” Ursla
said. “Travelers rarely come into this land. Where is it you are going?”
    Taren glanced at Zamna, who was still gnawing away
at the meat. He seemed not to have heard the question. Hoping his companion had
no objections, Taren decided to let the Matriarch know his true destination.
“We are traveling south to the tomb of Ailwen,” he stated.
    Ursla stared at him in disbelief. At the mention
of the ancient