Chapter I: The Curse

The night air filled Irene's lungs. Her long flowing golden hair blew in the breeze and stung her eyes every so often.

"Come in from the cold," called her father's voice. What it did matter? The cold did not bother her this night. She had heard the High Priest's orders. Her tribesmen were preparing for a famine. Their god was angry with the tribe, for the blasphemy uttered by Ogan.

"Why do we serve Tynek? Is it not we who do the work? The men hunt the game and women grow the herbs in the ground, while Tynek does nothing. He is a lazy good for nothing god. The other tribes mock our god. He's a lazy god."

The elders scolded Ogan for his harsh words. The chief defended Ogan: "Ogan is our finest hunter next Traugott the Bear. Perhaps, we should abandon our worship of Tynek."

The High Priest drew his sword and sliced off Ogan's head. The head landed on the ground and blood spurted from the neck, covering the soil with its taint. The stern old priest shouted: "Tynek demands a bride for the insults that has been spoken about him. You, Chief Dolan, defended the blasphemer and you have a daughter. She is a fair-skinned maiden. Her figure is most pleasing to Tynek. Allow your daughter to be given to Tynek. Behold! The crops die and the river goes dry."

The river stopped her course and the waters evaporated from her bed. The wheat and corn withered. The meat turned rank and smelled of a dead man that had been in sun for many days. Babies cried, for their mother's breasts stopped giving milk. The horses broke free from their bonds and ran from the village. Chief Dolan bowed his head. The great god Tynek had punished his people.

"Our god is powerful, but cruel. Why should the whole tribe suffer at the rash words of a foolhardy youth?"

A stern look came on the hard countenance of the High Priest.

"You are partly to blame. You supported the youth's words and even considered things that are not proper or becoming of a chief of Tynek. At the wedding feast, your heart shall explode. Blood shall roll out of your eyes and mouth. The dogs will eat your flesh and a new Chief will place your bloody crown upon his head, then shall this curse be lifted from our lands."

The elders and the tribesmen returned to their cabins to console their wives and little ones.

The sun departed from the sky. Irene paced back and forth in front of her father's cabin. Tears were in her deep blue eyes. She cried for the loves that she would never know. Irene's soul would never go to the great Otherworld, for it would belong forever to Tynek. Never to see her mother or grandparents again. The weight of this pain bore heavily upon her heart, which caused the tears to fall from her eyes, soaking her ample bosom.

"Come in from the cold, daughter," shouted her father. His voice seemed weaker and sounded faint. Sympathy filled Irene's heart, so she entered the cabin. It was decorated with many fine furs that the old chief had taken in the hunts of long ago. Dolan had been mighty in his day and, until a few hours ago; he had been a strong elder. Now, he seemed shrunken, dried out, and feeble. The curse weighed heavily upon him. And, yet, he had a warm fire built in the hearth. Irene smiled at the sight. She could remember the happy days of her childhood spent staring at the warm fire. The wonderful smell of something cooking in the pot and her mother's voice singing hymns to the Golden City, the birthplace of all the gods and goddesses.

"There's little food tonight, dearest," spoke her father.

"Tynek is a cruel god. He did nothing to protect my mother from the fever. Now, he will rob you of your last living relative and your seed shall die upon the altar."

"I wish…"

Before the old man could answer his daughter, their cabin door swung open. In the entrance way stood a giant of a man with a freshly killed buck across his mighty shoulders. A smile came across his bearded face and he spoke with a deep roaring voice: "My chief. I have returned from the hunt with a great prize. A feast to be sure. Prepare the pot, lass. Tonight, we shall dine like gods."

The old man trembled at the last word.

"Fear not, Chief Dolan. I have heard of your plight and of the curse. The load on my back will not spoil nor will Tynek have the last victory. After we dine, I shall journey to my mother's cave and seek her counsel."

Irene smiled and did as she was told. Traugott and the old chief butchered the buck in the moonlight, for Luna blesses the hunter and makes the meat sweet when a proportion of it is offered to her.

The three feasted on the meat and Traugott talked much.

"I am to blame for bragging about the goddess of my people. I have lived among your people for a long time and have observed the cruelties heaped on them by Tynek. He is nothing more than a trickster among the others of his kind, but great power he wields. It has been five years since I first beheld the beauty of your daughter and by Luna I shall not be denied her love."

Dolan swallowed a piece of meat and washed it down with the only liquid not effected by the curse - the blood of the buck. He smiled with his freshly red stained teeth and said: "If you can rid my people from the cruel fist of Tynek, I'll give you my crown, my daughter, and I will serve thee for as long as I live."

"Nay, good chief. I only ask for your daughter. It would not be fit for my father-in-law to be a servant. The sun is up and it is time for me to make my journey."