Claiming Their Village Bride

by Abby Aaron

  Taking a seat on a rock near the two other men with him, he continued, “I find myself trying to picture the young woman we will select. Will she have a fair or dark complexion? I hope her locks are long, as well as her legs. In truth, I am desperate with need for the chance to bed our chosen bride. It has been too many cycles without the glory of sheathing myself in the warmth of a wet, hot core.”

  Directly to his right, Jasper reached over and cuffed Barden across the back of his dark head. “Speak with respect when talking about our future bride. She won’t be some cast-off, showing dozens of fledglings the ways of pleasing a woman. Our bride will be untouched and pure, deserving of respect and protection.”

  Jasper’s boyish features were hidden behind a full mustache and beard. As the oldest, it was his duty to lead his triad and help them grow into the type of warriors which would not only represent the Village of Konrad with honor, but also be the bridegrooms any woman would hope for. “You should try to adapt our friend Aras’ mature demeanor. He honors his duty quietly and awaits the glory of coupling with our bride without a word.”

  Barden chuckled as he rubbed the sting out of the back of his head. “Aras doesn’t speak of bedding any women, cast-off or not. Some claim our fellow triad member is as pure as those inside the city. Why is that, I wonder?”

  Boldly studying his friend’s face, Barden seemed to be waiting to see if Aras would attack him or finally explain why he was so void of emotion about the thrill of protecting the city and claiming their mate. Even Jasper gave the impression he was holding his breath, hoping for some insight. But the last member of their triad remained quiet.

  Aras did not even acknowledge the question. He never spoke of his personal feelings, learning long ago to hold them in for fear that he might unknowingly mention something he shouldn’t. The family unit he came from had adopted the standoffish manner cycles before, after tragedy struck them and tore their family apart. One day, together with his fathers, the injustice done to them would be addressed. But it was not the time or place to discuss the matter now.

  Until that time, he held himself apart from others, even the members of his own triad. Jasper and Barden were his friends. He would protect them at the expense of his own life, if necessary. Aside from his own brother Loinbard, these two men were his closest friends. Yet they had different goals in life, and a blissful ignorance of the evil truth behind earning the right to claim a city bride. He felt like a traitor for not warning them of the danger ahead and the pain their current path promised, yet doing so might jeopardize the careful plan his fathers had laid out cycles ago to avenge their family unit’s tragedy.

  One day soon, Aras promised himself, he would tell all who would listen about the horrible betrayal the city of women was playing on the naïve villagers who protected their walls. One day, there would be hell to pay. He would find a way to survive whatever challenges lay ahead of him, until then he’d remain quiet.

  An unexpected sound from the outer wall brought all three men to attention. Each grabbed a sharp sword and positioned themselves to prevent any breach. The secret section, which opened from this circle to the next, was not due to be unlocked for two more new sunrises. Aras pondered if the outer wall might have been penetrated by evildoers seeking to take over the city. Had he not been honor bound to protect the wall, he might savor watching them bring down the city leaders. Innocent lives were at stake, though. As far as he knew, only the women addressed as priestess were responsible for the travesty that brought death in its wake.

  “Descendants of Konrad, lower your weapons. Our elder has arrived and wishes to meet with all before the changing of walls tomorrow.” Recognizing the voice of a fellow warrior called Roan, Aras and the others cautiously relaxed their attack stance, but each kept their guard up waiting for confirmation there was no threat present.

  The weathered, but friendly face of their Chief Elder Otto came into view as the surreptitious entrance parted. “Greetings, friends. It has been a long time since we last spoke. I hope all is well with your triad.”

  Jaspar returned his weapon to its sheath at his side and rushed forward to shake the wrinkled hand of the leader. Barden’s comical grin secretly mocked the reverence their friend showed, but he soon followed suit. Aras was the last to move forward, first studying those at the entrance carefully.

  Tradition was paramount in the Village of Konrad. Though they were stationed miles away from home, outside the city, this territory was deemed an extension of Konrad land. Changes to schedules and events meant something unusual was afoot. Had the secret his family had been guarding all these cycles finally come to light? News from home was sparse at the wall. During the three cycle absences, many things could transpire without the men at the wall knowing about them.

  The gray-headed leader stepped away from the gate entrance. “Ah, my dear Aras, you are still the solemn soul I left here two years ago. I had hoped time away from your family and friends would mellow your serious demeanor.”

  Honor bound to show respect; Aras gave a slight bend at the waist before putting away his sword to shake hands with the elder. “What news from my family and friends do you bring, sir? All are well, I assume.”

  “Your family unit has grown yet again,” Otto said. “Attie brought forth another son. As with the other three babes she blessed the Village of Konrad with, she opted to deliver at home. Strange, that choice, don’t you think? Might you have any insight into this decision?”

  Aras’ family unit was the first in generations to refuse using the healer’s hut when the time came to bring forth a new life. The village elders voiced concern often, expressing fear other mothers might follow suit. Many young mothers suffered significant blood loss during childbirth. Though rare, death resulted if the bleeding could not be controlled properly. The rulers felt having the healer deliver babies was the best practice.

  Aras said bluntly, “Babies have been known to disappear from the healer’s delivery room. After losing her first-born child there, I imagine my second mother is more comfortable being home with my fathers at her side, ensuring her and their babies’ protection.”

  “Your fathers are not trained in the ways of a healer,” the older man pointed out.

  “Yet they have managed to deliver her babies without consequence. I am sure Ulthia hovered close by in case there was a need for her services.” Aras tried to keep the disgust in his voice to a minimum as he spoke the name.

  At one time, the Konrad healer had stepped in to raise him and his younger brothers after his birth mother died and his only surviving birth father, Ryder had been ordered to protect the city wall. Yet he could not overlook the insult the healer helped perpetrate on his family and the village of Konrad.

  “What brings you here, two days ahead of schedule, sir? Surely you did not come all this way to announce the birth of another village son. A village daughter, maybe, but a son, unlikely…” he said.

  “Every birth is an event to rejoice and celebrate, Aras, though it would be wonderful to welcome a village daughter after all these cycles of drought.” Otto gestured for Barden and Jasper to join them. “I bring special visitors. Members from the Village of Urijah have come to make an important announcement. They wait outside the last wall. Without the blessings of Omo, I cannot open the inner most gate to invite the first-year fledglings to join us, but you three will not want to miss this important news.”

  Leaving behind their belongings, the triad followed the elder through the gate, down a long path and through another opening in another wall. Seated by a small fire, several groups of people sat, chatting gaily. Aras’ lips thinned. As if knowing his own village was cursed was not troubling enough, seeing the strange colors of another village made his stomach knot. As far as he was aware, there were at least three established villages that guarded the city of women. Each was likely affected by the same, hideous secret, yet all were clueless of what was happening.

  He watched the others laugh, heard the whispers of claiming
brides and the honor of starting a family unit. It disgusted him. His friends, men he had trained alongside of for cycles, spoke in awe of earning the right to claim a bride. How he wanted to shout about the injustice of the entire process, and the heartache they would soon discover.

  Aras’ eyes came to rest on the smallest of the foreigners visiting their camp. Though facing away from him, it was obvious from the slight figure that this fledgling was more child than warrior. It was unfair to force the reality of adulthood on someone so young. The boy should be home, playing with his friends, instead of speaking about claiming a city bride.

  “Is the Village of Urijah hurting for sons? Please tell me you are not seriously considering sending babes to service along the walls your village is responsible for protecting.”

  He had not meant to say the words aloud, but the eerie silence that followed told Aras his insult had not gone unnoticed. Three of the four strangers stood up and turned his way, their hands immediately going to rest on the weapons at their sides. Otto muttered a soft curse and came to stand behind Aras in a show of grudging support.

  “Excuse my rude words.” Aras swallowed his pride and reminded himself of his duty. “I fear the isolation of life on the wall has dulled my wisdom. Please accept my apology.” He walked toward the fire, his triad and elder only one step behind, to offer his hand to the fledgling he had just disrespected, hoping the older men beside the stranger did not attack before he made amends.

  The slender figure slowly stood and turned to meet his eyes. Aras’ step faltered and his mouth dropped opened. “You’re a woman!” he noted in awe. “But women aren’t allowed outside the safety of village borders.”

  “It would seem your cycles of isolation at the city walls has indeed dulled your thinking, sir.” Radiant freckles and glorious windswept hair the color of fire greeted him as a pixie-faced beauty raged at him.

  “First, you assume our village would send children to protect the city walls, and now you appear to not trust your own eyes about matters of gender. Tis the truth: I am indeed a woman, a village born one at that. While your village may not prepare its citizens in the ways of protecting themselves, the elders of Urijah do, as evidence of my presence here, outside of our border.”

  Once her speech was given, the spitfire brought her hands up to rest on her slender hips, and Aras felt his heart seize for a moment. He thought she was about to lay into him yet again with her sharp tongue, when she suddenly blinked her eyes at him in alarm.

  She stared at him for a moment before searching behind him. Thinking his triad or the elder might have shown some sign of aggression, Aras turned to warn them off. But he found them smiling at his being taken to task by a mere woman, not trying to support him in any manner. Turning back, he wondered at her sudden loss of words.

  He reflected on the things she had said. One statement kept echoing in his ear. “I am indeed a woman, a village born one at that.”

  Irony had struck again. There was but one way a triad could avoid the heartache of claiming a bride without chancing the deadly curse. A village bride did not carry the same plague some of the city brides did. But village born brides were almost impossible to find, and an unattached triad discovering an available one when she was of age to marry was rare. Yet here she was, the most beautiful woman he had ever set eyes on, old enough to have grooms fight for her hand in marriage. And he had just insulted her, and by the looks of the angry men beside her, her fathers, too.

  3

  Loinbard: Defiantly Free

  “She is still moping over the rude Konrad’s insult,” Leodon said. “We should have killed the boy before leaving the Konrad section of wall.”

  “And chance starting a war with one of our closest allies?” Darnish countered.

  “I am sure the dozen or so other Konrads sitting nearby might have thought to intervene had we attacked,” Ellias pointed out.

  “Then we should have left him with a small reminder to think before he speaks next time. A wee little scar from cheek to cheek,” Leodon chuckled. “What say you, daughter?”

  Jemina forged a smile. Giving him a tight hug, she showed her appreciation for his concern. “Do not fret, Papa. I believe his slight did not go unchecked. Mother taught me early on about ways to inflict pain without pulling out a sharp sword. Sometimes a curt word, delivered before the offender’s closest comrades, imposes a deeper wound, which is slower to scab over.”

  The path they followed through the dense forest was plush with beautiful trees, vines and flowers. The three men laughed and eventually started discussing other matters, and Jemina was grateful. It left her free to dwell on her own thoughts. For cycles now, she had dreamed of three men who would fight for the right to claim her as their bride. The faces of two of her mates were so clear in her visions, Jemina almost remembered their every feature. She had thought it was her unconscious mind creating a composite for the type of men whom she would be attracted to one day.

  Then the first man of her vivid dreams materialized before her eyes at the Konrad wall. He was always her first husband in the visions. Solemn, but patient with her as they learned the glory of making love. Suddenly he had sprung to life and stood mere feet away from her by the fire. Hooded sapphire eyes, once dark hair now bleached from the sun draping over his strong forehead, the man the elder Otto called Aras, might very well have walked out of one of her vivid dreams.

  Her eyes had sought the remaining members of his triad for confirmation. She thought to find a handsome man with caramel hair and piercing sky-blue eyes and a fetching man with thick, blond hair tamed only by a strong, leather strap holding much of it at the base of his broad neck. Instead she saw two attractive, but boyish looking men. They were definitely not the men she associated with Aras.

  All these cycles she had put stock in finding the perfect men of her dreams. Now the Creator seemed to be mocking her, proving finding the mates of her heart was futile, something only a child would hope to achieve. Aras, how she loved that name, was a member of a triad that bore no similarity to the one she had envisioned. Even his arrogant manner was contrary to the devoted, tender lover she had created in her sleeping mind. Her presence outside of the safety of a village clearly irritated him. He was not likely to leave a sure thing like the promise of city bride to come compete for the mere chance of winning a village one.

  Maybe the three men of her dreams were not meant to be considered as a triad after all. Each could represent her desires in a mate. If Aras was not her fated mate, maybe she should look for one of the other two men of her visions. The next stop on their journey was to be the Konrad village itself. Hopefully she would receive a more welcoming greeting from the people there than Aras had offered. If not, she would do well to put her hopes in the Village of Finn. They were known for their blond locks and handsome faces. Surely the blond member of her dream triad would come from that region. Not wanting to jinx her luck as she had with Aras, Jemina promised herself she would be very pleasant to anyone who might fit the description of one of her dream mates.

  At the gathering area of the Konrad village, she found another dream mate. From the side, he favored Aras in many ways. They bore the same strong jaw and thin, pale lips. The moment one of the chieftains declared Jemina was a village born bride seeking potential mates to compete for her hand in marriage, the tall stranger pushed his way through the tight knot of people blocking his path. He did not stop until he was directly in front of her as she stood on a platform. Then a winning smile lit his face and her heart started pounding excitedly. He was the third husband in her fantasies.

  Before her fathers could protest, the man reached for her hand and pressed a kiss to its palm. A blush crept across her face as she felt his tongue dart out to taste her skin. “Your beauty is rarer than your position as a village born bride. I fear anyone hoping to win your hand will have to fight off countless suitors.”

  Leodon stepped between the couple then and used his heavy frame to block the young man’s access
to her. “You would be wise to fear three overprotective fathers before concerning yourself with any other suitors, young man.”

  “With a daughter as breathtaking as yours, sir, I respect your protective nature. I am called Loinbard, from the family unit of Ryder, Wolf, Kia and Attie.”

  Ellias stepped down from the small platform in the center of the meeting area. Darnish did likewise and started interrogating the young man. “You speak of a family unit instead of boasting of your triad. Are we to assume you lost your fellow mates at such a youthful age?”

  Jemina rose on her toes, trying to get a better look at this Loinbard. His eyes were indeed sky-blue and the pupils were large as he dared to lock eyes with her despite being surrounded by her hostile fathers. On impulse, she lifted her tiny hand and gave a friendly wave, returning his welcoming smile.

  Ellias grew frustrated at the continued flirting and used his wide shoulder to nudge the younger man’s attention back to her fathers. “Tis the truth that it is unusual for a village bride to be present when her fathers announce her availability for marriage, but the rules of such proclamations still stand. You will direct any interest you might have in competing for her hand to us. We will then decide if you warrant an invitation to contend for our daughter’s hand. Where is your triad, son?”

  “I have no triad, sir,” Loinbard announced without shame, and Jemina could not help but feel let down again. Her fathers were sure to reject a single suitor outright, fearing she would be left alone if a sole mate was slain.

  “You are of age,” Darnish continued. “Why aren’t you at the wall now? Are the fledglings in this village so plentiful that able-bodied sons don’t have to do their duty for the purpose of selecting a bride?”