Tabba's Christmas Gift

Thick green smoke lifted into the sky from the open hole in the Shaman's roof. This lodge was on the edge of the moors and many miles from the carrier that Hepstran was assigned to. The Mazurkan captain was shipping to the new world he and his tribal brothers were carving out the new land for the Emperor. But first before leaving his family he would consort with this wise man once more.

“Enter young bull.” The deep old voice called from within.

Hepstran hesitated at the doorway a moment more, then pushed through the reeds and stepped into the heady musk that filled the small hut.

“I am Hepstran son of Geimran, Captain of the thirty third Torn Infantry. I travel to the Imperial territories to defend the Emperor's interests. My ship sails in three days. I ask you to share with me the omens and fates. To help guide me and to better prepare me to lead my men in battle.”

“Do you accept the fates? Do you accept the power of the Omens? Will you abide by the threads they weave into your tale?”

“I do.” In his mind Hepstran had a rebellious attitude of free will, but he knew the way the Shamanic shadow speakers plied their trade in truths and futures. “I accept the pattern my life will take.”

“Then I need you to rest, sleep, make yourself comfortable on the cot in the corner and breath in the fumes of the fire there. I will study your dream time and we will find your future.”

The captain took a comfortable position and felt the herbal steam and smoke begin to change his breathing pattern. As his attention drifted he heard the voice of children speaking in words he did not understand. He heard battles being fought, he thought of the face of his bride Fenth and then he felt a calming warmth and a shadow like presence wash over him.

“Awake Hepstran. Your future is certain.” The shaman roused the sleeping minotaur.

“We are done? I heard voices, I heard battle. Will I be a mighty warrior for the Empire?”

“You will indeed be a great warrior, a leader of forces, a hero to your people. You shall also have a son who will be an even greater Hero.” The shaman watched the glee on the young captain's face. “But not everything of this future will be to your liking. There will be sacrifices. Your life will be filled with regrets. You will be a bitter and angry man in your later years. No matter how many victories you push on to claim you will never satisfy your needs.”

“Victory is it's own reward, shaman you know nothing of the battle field.” A snort of steam and a glaring in his eyes passed quickly. But he thought of Fenth and their possible children “My apologies, please continue – what of this son?”

“His path and yours do not cross until late in your life. You will not know him. He will learn of you. When you finally face one another the fates leave you to decide the victor.”

“Am I to fight him? Does he need my help or do I need to kill him? What do the fates say?”

“The details of your meeting are not controlled by the fates. But as much as you are ruled by the blade so too your only child will live by the blade.”

“My only child, why would any heifer bare but one child? What foolishness is this?” Hepstran could no longer control his fury and sat up to leave.

“Captain you have heard from me the path you are already on. The fates loom works only with the thread available. You can no more change this than you can stop your horns growing. Accept your future, or you will never achieve peace in this life.”

“Shaman I am a Torn Warrior I do not strive for peace, I live for war.” Hepstran stormed out of the lodge and began the journey to the coast.

Calling home to collect his bags he stopped to bid farewell to his father and his fathers first heifer. He did not mention the shaman's prophecy, he didn't talk about futures or children. His father was distracted, and Hepstran assumed his impending journey was the reason for the stern look on his face. Not until he spoke to his mother did he find any other explanation.

As he left the village boundaries behind, Hepstran stomped the dust off his hooves. He vowed never to return. The shaman's dire words and the news his mother had shared were brewing inside his gut. Bitterness and shame stung fiercely into his flesh with a violence no sword had ever wrought.

Fenth had fled the village, with some labourer, her family were shamed but he would not be there to absolve them. He left with that same dire shadow hanging over his own path. Already the Shaman was wrong he could have no son without a mate, and his arranged marriage was now in shambles. His future was his own. It had been foolishness to approach the shaman and there was nothing to learn from that meeting.

Hepstran would leave for the new world and through his Victories prove himself worthy. His ambition and his intellect, his strength and his bravery, his own decisions and his own future, made by his own hands. No fates or omens to guide him. Captain Hepstran would live a life with no future and no past, with no family and certainly no son.