To get comfortable, I scooted close between his legs and draped an arm on Lahn’s thigh. I didn’t know if that was all right but I figured if it wasn’t, I’d find out soon enough.
He didn’t remove it so I leaned into it and looked at the shouting, cheering, stamping warriors.
Man, they were eating this shit up. Nearly frenzied.
Then I looked at the fighters. One looked about to drop. This was good and bad. Good for me because it meant this match was nearly over. Bad for him because it was clear there were no technical knockouts in this game and he looked like he could use one.
I was right. Five minutes later he was down and out.
One minute later he was dragged unceremoniously across the stone ground as the other fighter beat his chest, threw out his ripped arms, stamped his tree trunk legs and shouted his triumph. Then he tore a leather cup from a passing waitress type person and downed most of it in one gulp and poured the rest of it over his body, shaking his big head, blood, sweat and booze flying everywhere and he shouted again.
Yikes.
“Lahnahsahna Circe,” I heard Lahn call my name and I leaned back to look up at him.
“Yeah?”
He brought the cup to my lips. “Gingoo,” he ordered and it didn’t take a linguistics master to know he meant drink.
I parted my lips, he tipped the cup and I noticed as he did he was watching with intense interest.
I expected a beer-like substance, seeing as we were at a sporting event.
It wasn’t a beer-like substance. It was a straight, raw, spirit and it burned my throat but it didn’t taste all that bad. He took the cup away and I grinned at him.
“Kay ahnay see,” I said, he stared at me a second, his bearded chin jerking back in surprise and then his entire head tilted back as he roared with laughter.
I didn’t know what was so funny.
His head tipped down, his eyes moved through the tent and his fist crashed against his chest before he shouted, “Kah Lahnahsahna ahnay see!” then he lifted the cup, spirit splashed out, I heard a roar of cheers and turned my head to see, belatedly, that all the warriors had their eyes on me. Some were stamping their feet. Some were clapping. All were smiling.
“Lahnahsahna hahla!” one warrior yelled and they all cheered again.
I felt Lahn touch the back of my head, I looked up at him again and he held the cup to my lips. “Gingoo, kah fauna,” he ordered gently and then he tipped the cup and I took another drink. When the cup came away from my mouth, the warriors again cheered and Lahn grinned down at me. “Hahla,” he muttered, still grinning.
“Hahla,” I repeated, not having the first clue what I said but happy to say anything to keep him grinning at me like that.
I got what I wanted but he gave me better. The grin broadened to a blinding white smile.
Then his head went back to the action as two more fighters came out.
I smiled to myself and turned back too, thinking, okay, this wasn’t so bad.
Without any ado whatsoever, they went at each other. I noticed immediately this was not like a boxing match from home. Not that I watched much boxing at home but these guys didn’t have gloves, for one thing. For another, there were no referees. And also, I didn’t think boxers were allowed to part wrestle, kick, aim at (and sometimes connect with) the groin and the like.
It wasn’t brutal, it was brutal.
And in this match, I instantly had a favorite. I didn’t know why, I just liked him. Maybe because the other guy kept trying to kick or punch him in the groin so I didn’t think that was fighting fair.
So, when my guy started to look like he was winning, I got excited.
And therefore, not thinking, I cheered. And, as the battle wore on, I cheered loud and I cheered hard.
When the bad guy went down, my arms went straight up, I bounced on my behind between Lahn’s legs and I screamed, “Woo hoo! You decked him! Way to go! You rock!”
The victor did not stamp, shout, beat his chest or down a half cup of raw spirit.
His eyes came to me.
Then I felt that all eyes had come to me as the warriors’ bellows petered out.
My arms dropped.
Uh-oh. I fucked up.
Lahn’s huge hand curled tight around the back of my neck.
Uh-oh!
The triumphant fighter took two steps toward me, I tensed and he stopped.
Then he leaned into me, I reared back and he boomed, “Suh Rahna Dahksahna!”
“Suh Rahna Dahksahna!” Another shout rang out.
Then the stamping began as they stood, stomped their feet, punched the air with their fists and chanted, “Rahna Dahksahna! Rahna Dahksahna! Rahna Dahksahna! Rahna Dahksahna!”
Okay, um… it appeared, crisis malfunction. Apparently these boys liked it when their women cheered during blood sports.
Good to know.
I smiled uncertainly at the boys and then felt pressure on my neck. I tipped back my head to see Lahn looking down on me, his face expressionless.
I bit my lip, his gaze dropped to my mouth then his eyes lifted and locked on mine.
Then he muttered, “Good.”
I felt my face melt into a smile.
He shook his head, his lips tipped up then he brought the cup to my lips. I took another big drink; he took the cup away, squeezed my neck and then took his hand away. His attention went back to the center and mine followed. The boys calmed down, new combatants entered the circle and the games resumed.
* * * * *
I knew things were not going to be good when Dortak came in dragging his terrified looking, cowed, eyes- sunken in, arms covered in bruises new bride.
Unlike when Lahn and I arrived, the minute Dortak hauled his woman into the tent, eyes went to him and the vibe changed. There was still cheering, stamping and the fighters didn’t miss an opportunity at landing a blow, but a lethal undercurrent slithered low through the tent and it did not feel good.
When I saw her, without thought, my hand moved swiftly, searching until it found Lahn’s and I curled mine into his. He didn’t give me a reassuring squeeze. He moved my hand to his thigh and curved my fingers around the firm muscle then his hand left mine.
Okay, I didn’t know how to read that. Maybe he just wasn’t the kind of guy who held hands during knockdown, drag out warrior fights. But I was guessing it was an indication that I was his kickass rahna Dahksahna and I needed to suck it up. This was their world and I was in it.
And suddenly, that sucked.
The night had been kind of fun, I knew I was more than slightly tipsy on the spirit Lahn kept giving me and I was feeling loose and truly happy for the first time since I got to this world (again, I was more than slightly tipsy… but still).
Now, the night was not fun and as hard as I tried, I could not take my eyes off Dortak and his bride.
Something there had to give. She was clearly miserable and he was clearly mistreating her. It wasn’t only the bruises; it was the defeated look on her face.
I was going to have to have a word with my husband. The problem was, he understood, at my count, two of my words and I didn’t understand much more of his.
I laid my cheek against my hand on his thigh and stared without interest at the fighters. But my gaze kept drifting back to Dortak and I caught it when one warrior leaned over to Dortak, jerked his head at me, telling him something while smiling, something Dortak didn’t think was worthy of a smile if the ferocious frown he aimed my way was anything to go by. Therefore, I knew my cheering and drinking had been recounted and Dortak would not have been amongst those shouting my title in approval.
I pulled in a steadying breath to stop myself from having a visible reaction to the hate coming my way and my eyes went back to the fighters.
