During his twenty third year, the prince experienced another loss. Maya, one of his household’s slaves was attacked and raped by a member of his father’s personal guard. She had spurned the man’s advances because she hoped one day to be Chosen by her prince. Blair was enraged at the death. Maya’s mother, Jae, had been his wet nurse and still served in his entourage. He was taught from birth that slaves should be used and discarded, however the only real gentleness he knew had been at the hands of slaves. He accosted the guard and demanded a blood debt. No one had ever heard of such a thing being done. He went to his father and demanded it in full view of the court. The guard argued that Maya was only a slave and was of no significance. The prince maintained that she was his slave and no one, not even his father had a right to take away the possessions of one Chosen above all others and a prince of the kingdom. Silence claimed the room at his words. Chosen?
Blayr turned to his father, his eyes blazing. "Am I not Chosen, father?", he demanded. "Am I not CHOSEN! I have seen my destiny in the crystal of the moon all my life. Am I not Chosen, first above all others for you?! The king was momentarily struck dumb. He never indicated his intention to sacrifice his offspring on the altar of the crystal. Yet the boy knew. It was proof to the king of the power his son possessed. Buthus wondered what else his son could see, but refrained from asking. He was sure it was not yet time to bathe in this one’s blood.
However, it was true that anyone Chosen was denied nothing to the day of their sacrifice and so the king ruled in the prince’s favor. The courtier’s were stunned that the king planned to sacrifice his own son and even stupefied to hear the young man demand it as his right. Was his devotion to his father so consuming? Did he seriously expect to be sacrificed? Did this not prove the king’s power? Or did it underscore the depths of depravity the man had sunk to?
After a grueling contest of skill and desperation Blayr killed Maya’s assailant. His parting shot to the court let it be known that anything and anyone wearing the wolf brand was his and he would deal death with his own hands to any who dared defy his will. Khalil and Maya’s mother were the only witnesses to any grief he may have had.
Thereafter Blayr wore crimson somewhere on his person at court functions. His banners and other signals were edged in that color. His flags became a thing feared among the bandits raiding the caravans flowing into the kingdom. He fought like a madman and his father was hard stressed to protect him. Was he not destined for the altars? Death held no terror for him. Anytime raiders left women and children cut down they could expect no mercy from the Snarling Wolf. To be assigned guard duty for the prince guaranteed men a quick death on a blood drenched field. He would not remain cosseted in the palace as a child, now he ranged far and wide and found all matter of near death experiences. And Khalil was trained in secret, gifted with a set of small knives, the hilts engraved with the snarling wolf.
Five years to the day of the wolf’s death, Blair obtained a new guardian. He was walking in the market place of the city with his personal guard, touching this, remarking on that, to all appearances a bored young nobleman. He watched the acrobats and singers, purchased any odd object that caught his attention and generally caused his guard to curse the young man for his erratic impulsive maneuvers. When he heard the barker railing about the demon beast from across the sea he turned around and plowed through the crowd until he was at the front row. The people fell away in fear and awe. The guard would not have to beat them back. All knew the consequences if the king thought his son had been disrespected or harmed in any way.
The barker extolled the viciousness of the deadly predator he claimed resided behind the curtain. He went on so long the prince commanded him to silence less his tongue be removed. The man and his slaves hurried to comply with the request. The cage was rolled out and the tarp covering it snatched away. The animal inside was not as large as the wildcats that roamed the mountains of their land. His eyes were a bright yellow green and they sparkled like jewels. His fur was black as the king’s own hair but Blair could see spots when the animal lurched to its feet and leaned against the bars. It was thin, the fur missing in places and it was obviously starved. Old wounds were clearly visible and its nose and ears were pierced with metal rings attached to a chain wrapped around one of the bars. The merchant explained that originally there had been eight other cats, but they had perished on the voyage over the sea. This one had killed a man on board the ship and mauled three handlers after landing. Even starved and wounded it was very dangerous. When the prince stepped forward his guard rushed to block his way. Their deaths would take a thousand days if he was even marked by such a beast. The king would have their livers. But the prince pulled his sword and threatened their lives. None dared raise their hand against him, even to protect themselves. As one man they accepted the inevitability of death for what would happen next. Without hesitation the prince entered the cage. Crouching on the floor he crooned and sang to the animal. Some of the guard remembered him doing the same to the wolf years ago, so it was no surprise that eventually the prince left the cage with the chain wrapped around his wrist. No one impeded the progress back to the palace, guards and populace giving the young prince a wide berth. The cat resided in the quarters of the prince. He personally nursed the creature back to health and just as the wolf, the jaguar never left his side. Once the piercing healed the prince fit golden jewelry in the ears and nostrils of the cat. Within a few seasons it stalked freely through the halls and wreaked havoc on the battlefield. Beside the scars of battles Blair proudly displayed the claw marks given by his, often times, testy companion.
The presence of the cat gravely impacted the court’s social life. Fewer than before found favor with Blayr and his father despaired he would ever take five Chosen into his keeping. Guards, temple dwellers and even merchants vied for his attention. To be chosen for sacrifice by the king was the greatest honor. Was he not a god? Would they not find great favor in their god’s eye if his prince chose one of them? But the prince continued to avoid the ritual and cold withdrawal was his response to his father’s prodding. His lover remained a pleasured treasure and closely guarded. The king thrived in the atmosphere of sometimes deadly competition and despaired of his son’s singularity. To all it appeared that the young man meant no more to Buthus than any attendant. But the boy had been born from prophecy and the king kept his thoughts to himself. He had yet to know what power Blayr would bring him but he had more time than mere mortals to decipher the mystery. So he relaxed his vigilance and let the crystal work its magic.
It was becoming the fashion among the nobles to send their most comely heirs to the conquered capitals for long term vacations. Occasionally parents would be surprised to arrive at the palace and find a vacationing family member standing at the king’s left hand dressed in the crimson, gold trimmed silks of the Chosen. In private moments it would be noted that Blayr attended the sacrifices less and less.
During the seventh hazy season after its arrival, speculation ran rampant through the army whether the cat would die in battle. Blayr’s personal guard would have gladly put the beast to death if the opportunity presented itself. The jaguar’s malevolent gaze was always leveled on each one. Some noted the cat never took it’s eyes from Buthus when the ruler was present.
One day Blayr accompanied his father to a pit exercise. He expected the usual slaughter of animals so left the jaguar and Khalil in his quarters. His personal guard stood at his back next to the king’s new Chosen. Blayr spent the afternoon sipping water, cooled by ice imported from the mountains. He nibbled on fruit and sweet pastries fed to him by two of his personal slaves.
Another young woman dipped a pristine white cloth of the finest mill in a silver bowl of chilled water to gently cool the neck and forehead of the sweating prince. From time to time she lifted the heavy weight of his hair and soothed his shoulders and back. When the length of curls began to annoy him, she combed and braided his hair, twisting the braids into a fat chignon pinned by silver sticks.
The king was being fanned by a courtier. He did not keep slaves in his personal quarters but the nobles suffered the humiliation of attending his needs as the whim took him.
After the last fiasco on the sands, slaves ran out and raked them clean once again. The king leaned closer to his son and advised him of the next event. His army had taken Samein, the last chieftain of the Tiger Clans and two of his retainers. They would die on the sands today by the swords of palace guardians. The king had no wish to keep men softened by the light duty of the palace. Samein had the reputation of being a fighter almost as formidable as himself. Today he would see.
Blair yawned and set upright to watch the battle. His attention sharpened, however, when the three men walked into the arena. He had fought the armies of the southern lands but never men of the Tiger clans. They were all over six feet, skin like ebony and heavily muscled. Stripped of their tiger loincloth, only medallions and gold tipped teeth adorned their battle harnesses. The captives were allowed only short swords. They ran to the center of the pit arrayed at each other’s backs. Samein had the bearing of a king. His eyes never wavered from the cave like openings where the enemy would come. Deep furrowing scars raked across his chest and shoulders as they did on his companion’s bodies. The scars were proof they faced their god’s messengers as youth and survived the strident rite of passage all Tiger Clan must endure or die.
The palace guard spilled from the doorways, the harsh sunlight glinting on crimson armor and glittering swords. The first to reach the captives were cut down. It was obvious that this would be no easy slaughter.
Samein and his companions fought as men possessed. They knew death was at hand but the Tiger would consume many of the non believers before them. When their bodies were near collapse they drew on some unknown reserve and fought on. Bodies piled up, blood flowed from many wounds. Joel and Harro eventually went to their knees, but still they slashed and parried to protect their chief.
"Enough!" the king shouted. The savages from the south had managed to kill or gravely wound a third of the troop sent against them. As they cut down a man they stepped over him so eventually the bodies were piled at their back. The guards could only get close with a frontal attack. It should have been simple to kill three wounded weakened men. Oh well, at least the stupid were no longer draining his coffers. The armor could be repaired and tolled out to the next set of recruits.
"Release the cats!"
Blair stood as the bars slid up and a growling pack of starved tigers was herded into the pit with sharpened spears and torches. The shock was plainly written on the faces of everyone in the pit. Inexplicably the dark warriors went to their knees, sword points buried in the sand. The remaining guard scattered drawing the immediate attention of the foremost cats, which of course, took after them. The king was livid as the handlers attempted without success to divert the animals to the chief and his men. Suddenly Blayr leaped to the top of the balcony rail and into the pit. His guard surged forward only to be held back by the king’s arm.
Blayr walked across the bloody sand to the kneeling warriors. He sang as he stepped over the bodies of the dead and around tigers feeding on them. When he reached the men his father could no longer hear his song or the words he spoke. At first he was ignored and then Samein looked into his eyes with a stunned expression. The big man rose to his feet, towering over the son of the hated infidel. He tossed back his head and laughed until tears came. Blair sang. The tigers temporarily sated began to drift toward the prince and still the king held his guard at bay. The cats hissed and snarled, confused by the scent of the prince mingled with the bloodied warriors. Eventually they crawled forward on their bellies and watched what the young man was about. Samein ceased his laughter and stared at the messengers of his god. The cats sat and lolled at the feet of the prince. They snapped and swiped at each other ignoring the exhausted warriors. Harro and Joel looked to their chief for guidance. When one of the predators bumped Blayr’s hand the prince stroked the wide head. He continued to croon and sing to the animals. Finally the chief spoke to the prince. Conversation went on for some minutes and then Blair took the silver chain from his neck. Samein lowered his head to allow the prince to place it on him. The man went to one knee. Blair caressed his head then Harro and Joel’s. He wrapped their wrists in his silver bracelets.
He walked back to balcony where his father waited.
"Father I have Chosen. Behold the first of five!"
Blair turned toward the entrances to the pit leading the bemused warriors to their new lives, future sacrifices to the blood cult.
In the darkest hour the king went to the crystal in his secret place and contemplated long on the events of the afternoon. The only thing he truly understood was that soon Blayr would have the others needed for his first sacrifice. Then would his blood be ready for the kings ritual. Joy nearly overwhelmed the monarch at the thought. If Blayr had snared such mighty warriors to be his Chosen who else might he net? Now he understood why the lad had been so slow to act all these years. He was truly being led by the crystal!
Within one moon Blayr’s personal guard was minus three. Samein and his men took their place. The jaguar tolerated their presence much better than the former guards so everything settled down fairly quickly.
Harro developed a fascination with Khalil and could be found in the slave’s company much of his free time. The court once again buzzed with gossip. Was his favorite now being shared? No one could find out.
Contrary to the king’s expectation, all was reasonably quiet for the next two years. If the chieftain of the tiger clans resented captivity he certainly did not show it. He rode into battle with the prince and fought with the jaguar at his side. On the other hand he bent his knee to no other. The king ignored this arrogance because he believed Blayr had cast a spell to bind the warriors to him.