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[hider=Summary]
Frinji means, more or less, 'foreigner', generally refers to anyone who is not of Eskndar's family
Eskandar scares some of his tribals with his think-face
He realises that his children will soon need life-mates
He divides his forty warriors into three groups and sends each party out to choose for itself a leader
They return and a ceremony takes place whereing Bato, Palo and Orif are elevated to the status of Warrior-Chiefs[/hider][/centre]

[centre]Thanatos, Part I[/centre]


[i]Moon: 325[/i]
Eskandar sat outside Zekra's tent, his fist pressed against his cheek and his eyes staring far off into the distance. Whether he realised it or not, his brows were deeply furrowed and his lips pressed together rather tightly, and those who walked by quickened their pace upon seeing the Patriarch's face. If that was rage in his eyes and on his face, then none wished to be within sight when he rose. But it was not rage, for the Patriarch was simply deep in thought.

'By the Moon-Mother, Eskandar, you are terrifying the people,' Zekra's voice reached him before she sat next to him, and he quickly shook himself from his reverie. He looked at his life-mate and leaned in to stroke her swollen belly, the previous darkness of his face giving way to an outpour of joy. She would be laying down her burden any day, and another child would join the progeny of the Patriarch.
'Hmm? Terrifying the people?' he glanced at one of the tribals passing quickly by, her head bowed and eyes looking at the ground directly before her.
'Bhelseh!' he called out, and the woman froze in mid-step, 'come here!'

At his command, she quickly turned and scampered towards the Patriarch though she dared not raise her head and catch his eye, or see him remove his hand from his life-mate's enlarged belly. Her clear terror caused the Patriarch to chuckle as he invited her to sit and be at ease.
'How are you Bhelseh? How is my son Sheb? Why does he not visit me anymore? Is it you and Tara who are keeping him away from me?' he leaned in with a smile as the poor girl blushed profusely and stammered a response.

'We- no, I would ne- I mean, we- uh,' she looked from Eskandar to Zekra in desperation before Zekra came to her rescue.
'There there now, he is only jesting with you. It is good that you frinjis have settled in so well with us, and the happiness of Sheb and all our Patriarch's children brings us all joy,' at this, Bhelseh nodded profusely in agreement.

'Of course you have settled in well. The Moon-Mother saved you from the curse and brought you safely to me that I may take you under my wing and protect you forever. 'Tis only natural that you have settled in with us and find in your hearts nothing but contentment and peace. Such is the mercy and blessing of the Moon-Mother upon me, and through me upon you all, whether frinji you be or of the household of Eskandar. And obedience begets blessing!' Eskandar looked to the side and thought on his words for a few seconds before nodding, 'yes...obedience begets blessing...'

Sighing, the Patriarch rose to his feet and left the fireside, surveying his tribe's great camp from atop a little rock not too far from the tent. It was huge, with more tents than one could easily count, and with the younger children rushing about around the cave's entrance further up. There was no denying that he had, first and foremost with the blessings of the Moon-Mother, and then with the strength of his own two hands and with the fruit of his loins, built up a tribe which could fend for itself. But what was more important to Eskandar was that it proliferated. His children were many and more of them would soon mature, and they would thus need life-mates in order to ensure the growth and glory of his line. His blessed blood had to fill and dominate the earth that the pleasure of the Moon-Mother may ever be upon mankind. Yes, his children would need life-mates.

He turned and walked back to the fireside where his spear was buried by its stone tip into the ground. He lifted the weapon and walked past the two women, a gleam of purpose shining in his eyes. Zekra's eyes followed him for a few moments before she glanced back at Bhelseh, who had flinched away when Eskandar lifted his spear. Unlike Eskandar's daughters, these newcomer-women had not been brought up as warriors. Eskandar had told her it was only natural that his own daughters should be superior to all the other women of the earth, for they had within them his blessed and sanctified blood. Zekra sighed and stoked the fire. The Patriarch was on the prowl, it seemed, and worlds changed when he was.

In the centre of the tribal camp was a circle known to all as the Patriarch's Ring, for that was where he stood when he wished to command, and all dropped what they were doing and came to him when he stood there. But on this occasion, the Patriarch was not merely standing in his Ring, he was squatting with his spear's point in the sky. He was calling his warriors to him. And they rose, one by one, wielding spears and bows, and made their way towards their master and chief.

When all were gathered, Eskandar inspected all those present and spotted the few urchins attempting to join the warriors before they had earned the honour.
'Yog, Aya, Bish! Go back and suckle on your mothers' breasts you impudent brats! You haven't even hatched from the egg and you're waltzing about as though the world is yours - know your place, your are naught but unweaned little babes!' the mischievous trio looked upon their father with a mixture of shock and awe for a few moments before Bato whacked Aya on her bottom and told her and the other two (who just about avoided similar blows) to scurry off. They laughed at her for getting hit, and she thwacked them both with her makeshift spear till they finally found protection in kindly mother Tse's arms.

With the urchins removed from the circle, Eskandar slammed the butt of his spear into the earth for silence and attention.
'Hear me and understand what I say, you who are all little Eskandars, you who are blessed with me and I with you. We have prospered, here in this prairie-land protected on all sides by Big-Trees and Hills and Great-Hills, and through which does flow the bountiful Snakey-Water of our Moon-Mother. With her blessing, we have become established in the land and fear neither hunger nor thirst, and we no longer fear the rage of the weathers, and she has given us arms swift and strong and many,' his eyes moved from one warrior to another as he spoke, many of them were nodding vigorously and others simply stood holding their spears or crossing their arms to their chests as they listened.

'And we must ensure that we continue to be swift, strong and many. And so I have resolved to split you, my warriors, into three parties. Each party will, with the blessing of the Moon-Mother, decide upon a warrior who will lead it, and you shall all venture forth beyond the Hills-Beyond, into the Lands-Beyond. And you must either return to us with those who live in the Lands-Beyond in rope, or you must return with their pledge of obedience to the blessed of the Moon-Mother and faith in him and Her. For if they do, they shall share in our blessing, and the mercy and protection of the Moon-Mother will be upon them, and through them we will ensure the growth of our might and full bloom of the power given us by our Moon-Mother.' 

With that said, he set about splitting his warriors into three groups. They were forty in total, and were split into two groups of thirteen and one group of fourteen. The majority were Eskandar's children, but there were among them also the seventeen men from the frinji tribe who had been captured. Eskandar had not seen any signs of treachery from them in the months that had passed, and they had integrated rather well with his children from what he could see. But only time would tell the truth of what lay in their hearts. Judge not one a friend till the hand of death gives the final and truest verdict.

'Go your ways, and come not before me till the Moon-Mother has guided you to a leader from within yourselves who is worthy of the honour, and who is able to bear the burdens of leadership,' and the Patriarch said no more than that. He let his gaze flow over them once more before he turned and left the Ring, returning to Zekra beside the fire, and from there he looked on and watched as the three parties sat in the Ring for a long while. He could see that they were talking to one another, though he could not hear what it was that was being said. After a good long while, they all rose and the three parties went their separate ways. They would return to him, he knew, and each party would have been guided to its master. 

He finally looked to Zekra, who had been staring at him for a long while, waiting on him to permit her to speak. He smiled knowingly at the most beloved to him of his life-mates and nodded slightly. She leaned in and placed two hands upon his shoulder, and her chin upon their back.
'What was it that our Patriarch commanded in the Ring?' she had seen the warriors sit and speak before they all rose and went in three separate directions. That in itself was odd, that all the warriors should leave at once. And stranger still was that they had split into three parties. It was clear that Eskandar had given them very specific orders.

'I have organised them into three groups, and I have commanded them to find from amongst themselves leaders. And they have ventured forth to do as commanded,' Zekra stroked one of the Patriarch's long brown locks as he spoke. He turned to her more completely and gripped her face gently with his two palms, 'your Patriarch's children have grown, and they must have children of their own. And so they shall. And so they shall,' the confusion was clear in Zekra's eyes, and she spoke as she pulled Esknadar's hands away from her face.

'But...how will splitting them into three groups create children for them? Do they not need life-mates for that?' at her words Eskandar scratched his chin through his long brown and red beard while nodding.

'Yes, that is exactly it. Do you not remember that when the frinjis first came, and they told us of their journey here, they mentioned the tribes of the Lands-Beyond? And they said that none were as great as this our tribe. They are weak tribes awaiting the dawn of my blessing upon them. And so I shall have our warriors raid and strike fear into the tribes of those Lands-Beyond. They shall be subdued and pledge obedience to the Patriarch, the blessed of the Moon-Mother. And of them we shall take life-mates for our children,' with his explanation complete, Eskandar looked up into the skies, now simply stroking and fiddling with the hairs of his scraggly beard, 'and none has guided me to this but our Moon-Mother, for this epiphany could not have come to me from my mind alone. She watches and she guides those among her children whom she finds most deserving.'

Zekra looked at him as thoughtfully as he now stared into the heavens, the slightest pang of jealousy entering her heart. She did not mind that he had taken other life-mates, she did not even mind that he loved them also. She knew that she yet had some part of the love he gave his life-mates. But she could not have any part of the love he dedicated to the Moon-Mother, no matter how she tried. That was a part of Eskandar's heart that the distant goddess monopolised completely. It was not that Zekra did not love the Moon-Mother, to the contrary. But who could blame her heart for what it felt? One had power over what they did and said, but over the heart there was no power. The heart did as the heart wished, and none could overcome its will. And yes, her heart envied the Moon-Mother for what was in Eskandar's heart of her.

Eskandar gave her a sudden side-glance, and for a few seconds it was as though he knew exactly what had been passing in her mind. She quickly looked away and busied herself with the fire, a certain degree of guilt sinking into her stomach. One of her hands moved over her bulge and she sighed somewhat sadly.

The parties returned one by one over the next few hours. Each of the groups brought back with it the body of a Big-Tooth-Mighty-Claw, and once all the parties were again gathered in the Ring, Eskandar descended to them and commanded those whom the Moon-Mother had raised above the rest to step forward. Three of his sons stepped forth: Bato son of Zekra, Palo son of Beru, and Orif son of Cala. Each had emerged as the leader of their respective group, and Eskandar could guess that the challenge had been to see who among them could hunt a Big-Tooth-Mighty-Claw first.

'These here Big-Teeth-Mighty-Claws shall be skinned, and their hides shall be toughened, and they shall be the war-dresses of these your Warrior-Chiefs,' with that he lifted his spear and commanded they disperse and not return to him until the war-dresses were complete.

For a week or so there was an austere quiet in the camp as the war-dresses were waited upon, and when they were completed, the entire tribe was gathered around the Ring and the three Warrior-Chiefs stepped out once more. Eskandar's sons bowed before their father and Patriarch, and they did so because that was his command. He took the first of the war-dresses and raised it to the skies. The entire thing had been skinned and its mouth gaped wide open, with its teeth yet in it. Its powerful arms and hind-legs would now house within them the arms of the warrior who would wear the dress. The torso remained open, but primitive bone buttons had been sewn in place, and holes placed in the other side so that the torso would be completely sealed once the warrior was dressed in the fur.

'Warrior-Chief Bato of the Batowid Host; hereby Chief Warrior of the Eskandars, rise and claim your right!' Eskandar roared at the boy- no! The man. For the briefest second there was fear in his eldest son's eyes, but then a steely resolve set in to them and he jumped up and grabbed the war-dress and forced it from the Patriarch's hands. And two of the Batowids raced forward to help him into it - Elia and her life-mate Kolten. Once he was dressed, Bato turned back to his Patriarch, and in his hands was placed a beautifully carved spear with a tip of stone on one end and a viciously sharpened tip of bone on the other. Bato took it and turned to his host, raising the spear high, and their roar of approval rose up and echoed in the mountains and the prairies and the hills. And their Warrior-Chief joined them.

Eskandar took the second fur and turned upon the next of his sons to be initiated.
'Warrior-Chief Palo of the Palowid Host; hereby Champion of the Eskandars, rise and seize your right!' without hesitation, Palo rose and gripped the war-dress, a scathing energy dancing about in his eyes as he wrenched it from the grip of the Patriarch. Like his brother before him, two of his Palowid warriors - Sheb and another of Elia's life-mates, Sjorn - rushed forth and helped him into the war-dress, and he soon stood before his father in all his battle-ready glory. Eskandar took a spear whose shaft was made of striking red wood, and like Bato's spear this one also had one tip of stone and one of bone. Taking the spear from his father, Palo turned to his host and walked back to them, and they welcomed their master with cheers just as loud as those of the Batowids before.

With the third fur in his hands, Eskandar walked towards the third of his sons to be elevated.
'Warrior-Chief Orif of the Orifid Host; Prophet's Right-Hand, rise and grip what I grip!' and for a few seconds Orif did not move, and breathing was put on pause as he sat still, and the sun in the sky seemed to blink in surprise. But then he rose, ever so slowly, and the people breathed and the sun stared once more. He reached for the fur slower than the others, and he took it gently from his father, and when two of his warriors burst forth to aid him, he commanded them stop and dressed himself without their aid. His father eyed him thoughtfully before reaching for the last spear. It was Eskandar's very own, with its one stone tip and worn shaft, but Orif's face seemed to lighten up immediately upon seeing it, and a grateful smile spread across his face as his father handed it to him. He looked into the Patriarch's eyes, and before he knew it he had taken his father's right hand and kissed the back of his palm. Eskandar chuckled and rubbed his son's head through the fur. And with that, he walked Orif back to his host, and their cheers and roars rose up - and perhaps they were louder than any of the others.

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