J. Friedman Fast

Pulse.

What was that?

I felt it in the palm of my right hand. A single throb.

Pulse.

Stronger that time. I raised my hand, palm up, in wonder. It looked the same. I turned my hand slowly, backwards and forwards, looking for any sign of change or a cause for the sensation.

Pulse.

There it was. A glow on my palm, in time with the throbbing. Faint, but there, just the same. I stared at the spot, willing it to return. A few seconds later, it did.

Pulse. The Calling.

It was shaped vaguely like an elongated flame. And it glowed. Brighter that time, surely. I stood there, with my palm held up in the air, oblivious to my surroundings. It might have been minutes. It may have been longer. But then there was a shout.

My focus shifted past my hand to the end of the field, where my father and brothers were standing still. They were not facing towards me, as I could see their backs. Instead, their attention was towards the suns, which I could see were now closer to setting than I expected. I squinted to try to see what they were looking at. That was when I heard the sound of horses approaching.

Many horses – at least a dozen. All the men in the field had stopped working now, waiting as they approached. I could see even from this distance that they did not lay down their tools, however. They held them at the ready, poor weapons though they may be in case this was an attack.

The pace of the approaching horses was too slow for that. Whoever it was, they were coming openly, in no hurry, wanting to be seen and not wanting to appear to be a threat. However, as they came closer and closer, my eyes widened and I felt my own tension heighten as I realized the strangers were very different from us. Both men and horses were large. Very large, indeed. They were dressed strangely – rather than homespun cloth and natural fibers, they seemed to be wearing breeches of animal leather and vests of fur, those who were not bare-chested. That raised my eyebrows, as our men were usually covered from head to toe, and were not nearly as muscled as these.

Furthermore, as they drew closer I realized that while our men wore hats to keep the sun off their faces and short hair, they did not. And all had long, black hair, tied back from their faces and hanging long down their tanned backs. They were armed. My heart sped up even faster when I saw the array of spears, knives, and bows and arrows each carried. None had them in hand, which now seemed on purpose, as if to show they meant us no harm. It was then that the leader raised his right hand as they came close enough to discern faces, palm facing towards us.

Pulse.

My own palm reminded me of what I had just discovered, and I glanced down to see that it still glowed with every throb. I grabbed the skirt of my dress with my right hand, to hide it.

When I looked up again, I could see the faces of the men as they approached my father, who had stepped out into the road to greet them, my brother and cousins lining up behind him in support or as a sort of ragtag guard. Until this moment I had always thought my father the largest, strongest man I had ever known. Now he seemed small when compared to the approaching line of… what? Who were they?

Something about the hard lines of their faces jarred my memories of my school days. Tan skin. Muscled bodies wearing animal skins. Large horses. Bearing spears, knives, bows, and arrows. Long, dark hair. I could now see most had long mustaches and elaborate braided beards, including the leader. Dark eyes that had been darkened with a cosmetic of some sort around them, making them look quite fierce. Barbarians? This far South?

But most startling of all, as the leader approached with his palm still raised, I could now see the occasional pulse of light emanating from it. In time with the pulse from my own.

In time with mine? How can this be? There is only one way.

The horses stopped now, a few yards from my father. The men from the fields had also gathered near, so they could hear what was being said. My younger siblings and I were too far to hear any more than the rumble of deep voices as they began to speak. I saw my father shake his head. There was gesturing on both sides. None of it was particularly aggressive, so I tried to remain calm.

I saw Father turn towards us, and then say something to Jarek. Jarek trotted over to where we stood, transfixed in the golden light of the setting suns. “Father says you should come,” he said, looking straight at me.

I felt my knees go suddenly weak, and I had to swallow before answering. “All of us?” I look meaningfully at the younger children.

He shook his head. “No. Just you, Lily. Though it seems safe enough. He asked for you.”

I felt a small, warm hand slip into my left one, and Rose’s little voice said, “Lily?” I tore my eyes away from Jarek to see Rose peering up at me, looking quite pale and frightened. I did my best to reassure her.

Squatting down, I looked her in the eyes. “Now Rose, don’t worry about anything.” I gave her my brightest smile. “If father has asked for me then it must be safe. Why don’t you take the others back to the house and see if dinner is ready?”

She nodded at me slowly at first, as if trying to convince herself to obey. I gave her hand one reassuring squeeze and turned her towards the house. She gathered Daisy’s hand and Charl’s, and pulled them along with her.

I stood, and grasping my dress on each side with my now sweaty hands, I turned to face Jarek, who was twirling his hat and trying to look casual. We both glanced at the waiting men. All of them were watching us intently, if patiently.

Jarek raised an eyebrow at me, and said, “Uh… Lily? They say they are barbarians from the Northlands. The leader says he was Called here. You know… Called. Is there anything you haven’t been telling us?” And he looked meaningfully at my right hand, which was gripping my skirt rather harder than it needed to be.

I gulped and nodded. But all I said was, “We better not keep them waiting.” The hat stopped twirling, and his eyes got a little wider, but he nodded just once before plopping the hat back on his head and offering me his arm. I gladly gripped his forearm just below the elbow, and we walked towards the group of men.

The leader had dismounted, and was now standing in front of Father, if a head taller. He was broad in the shoulders as well, with legs like tree trunks. He stood with his feet apart, and arms crossed. At ease and yet also seemed prepared for anything. Fierce. Frightening. And his full attention was on me.

The realization dawned on me as I felt another throb in the palm of my hand, if he was Called to me, this is my Mate. My Mate. I have a Mate. I AM a Mate. I am to be Mated?

Father was also watching us approach. As we drew to a stop next to him, he removed the stalk of straw he had been chewing, and used it to gesture towards me. He then said to the man, “This is my daughter, Lily. Lily, these men came very far. And their leader says he has been Called to this place. I have told him he should keep traveling, as we only have one young lady of age on this farm, and you’ve not…”

I raised my right hand, effectively cutting him off as the red-orange glow from my palm lit up in the dying light of the setting suns for all to see, and faded just as quickly. A collective gasp arose from the watching crowd of men that had gathered around us.

Silence from the barbarians, both those still seated upon their horses, and the one who stood before me now. There was no reaction from him, except to wait just a heartbeat or two before slowly raising his own right hand, palm facing out. There we stood in the quiet, hands raised, palms facing each other. And then the pulse happened – simultaneously. A shape like an elongated flame glowed brightly on his palm, and I felt the answering throb in mine. His dark eyes met mine, and a slow smile spread across his face.

I felt my breath catch, as that smile transformed his face from frightening to almost – not quite – warm. If not friendly, I could at least sense a bit of humor there. Amusement, perhaps. Maybe even a drop of relief. That would be understandable, considering the distance he had traveled. Though it was premature and presumptuous, if I knew my father. 

Father must have seen it, too, for he cleared his throat and caused all eyes to return to him. “It appears you are not entirely mistaken, sir,” he said. His eyes and voice both hardened a touch, to emphasize what I knew was coming next. “Now I don’t know what the customs are where you are from, but here our daughters have a choice.”

This caused a stir among the barbarians, breaking the stillness and silence among them for the first time since they stopped. Their leader lowered his hand, crossing his arms again, and stated briefly but firmly, “The Calling gives us no choice.”

Father nodded, but continued. “No, we know that. We know you are drawn here – compelled even. And that you will not be able to be apart from Lily without causing you both suffering. We would not impose that upon either of you if it can be helped. However, in some places it is the custom for Mated pairs to be married right away and then to go and live with either the man’s people or the woman’s. And I’m here to tell you that if my daughter does not choose to leave with you, she will not be forced to.”

At this, my brother and cousins drew themselves up straighter, holding their rakes and pitchforks up meaningfully. Our neighbors gathered closer behind them, as if to emphasize that my family would not be alone in defending my honor in this matter. There was a quick and quiet rustle among the barbarians as knives and arrows were unsheathed. No one dismounted, but the air suddenly held the feeling of impending violence.

I felt panic rise in me at the thought of my entire township slaughtered in the space of a few minutes by a barbarian horde, and opened my mouth to protest, despite my terror at the thought of leaving with this strange and fierce man. But that man’s eyes never left my father’s face, and now he silently raised his right hand again, palm facing outward once more. I felt the throb of my own hand even as I saw the glow flash in his palm. The men on horseback froze in place, and silence descended upon the scene again.

The barbarian leader nodded once. In his deep, heavily accented voice he said, “Understood. In our land it is the custom for the bride in a Mated pair to live with her husband’s family. We have been known to take a bride by force, even if it means war among our tribes. It is considered a great honor to do so. However, we are strangers to your land, and do not come as conquerors. May I address your daughter now?”

This surprised father as much as it surprised me, though the only sign he gave was to stop chewing on his straw. After a moment he glanced at me, and I gave a shaky half shrug to show I was not opposed. Father nodded to the barbarian leader, who turned his attention to me.

He took just one step towards me, but his eyes bored intensely into mine, even as he gave a half bow from the waist. “Lily.” My name sounded so exotic coming with his strange accent. “My name is Kobahn, of the Jinho tribe from the Northlands. These are my Riders.” He gestured in a sweeping motion at the men on horseback behind him. “We have come a very long way to meet you, when my Calling began some months ago. I am relieved to have found you, safe and healthy, and feel fortunate that you are very beautiful as well.” At this, I could feel my cheeks heat, and see my father frown from the corner of my eye. Kobahn continued, “Everything you have heard me tell your father is true. We will honor him, your family, your customs, and especially your wishes.” I noted he emphasized “your.” He will honor my wishes? What are my wishes?

“In return, I only ask your permission, and that of your father’s, to remain near you. To have the opportunity that we may get to know each other, in hopes that I will win your heart and your hand in marriage.” At that, he stood expectantly but patiently, clearly awaiting an answer.

I was so surprised at his speech that it took a moment to sink in. All the implications. So many questions flooded my mind that I could not answer at all. I must have looked like a rabbit trapped in a snare, as my eyes darted from him, to my father, to my brother, and to all the neighbor men and the Riders all staring at me. A throb from my hand snapped me back to reality, even as my father tried to speak. “Lily, you don’t have to answer…”

“And what if I say no?” Was that my voice?

It must have been, having been distinctly feminine and me being the only woman in the field at that moment. And yet I can’t recall when I had ever had such strength and decisiveness. To cover, I looked Kobahn in the eyes and repeated, “What if I do not consent to marriage?”

A twinkle came to his eye, and a slight smirk, as if he found the idea amusing. Amusing? Surely he is not so arrogant as to think that not a possibility? His response seemed sincere enough, however. “That would make things… difficult. But I am a man of my word. You will not be forced. Because of the nature of the Calling, we would need to remain near each other to minimize our suffering. I would have to ask for permission to live nearby, even if only for your sake. I would vow not to disturb you or your family and would remain out of sight, if that is your wish. But I would spend the rest of my life a broken man, incomplete without you, rather than force your hand in this matter.” That seemed to be all he had to say, and so returned to waiting for a response from me.

I became aware that father was looking at me, an eyebrow raised, showing his own amusement in the situation. Or even slightly impressed. With my question, or his answer, or both?

I merely nodded my assent. To either, or both.

That smile lit Kobahn’s face again, and he gave that formal half-bow to me. He turned, and spoke to father again.

“With your permission, I will set up my camp on the edge of your farm, near the stream,” he gestured toward the treeline. “There I will be close enough to watch for danger and you may call upon me when there is a need.”

Father squinted up at his hulking form in the sunlight, seeming to consider this. Chewing on his straw for a moment more, he nodded his consent.

The barbarian bowed solemnly, more deeply this time; a ridiculously formal sentiment in this setting, though it conveyed a deep respect for my father that I couldn’t help but admire and appreciate. However, I also detected that slight smirk in the corner of his mouth and in the glance he gave me as he turned towards where his horse waited.

Upon mounting, he spoke once more to me. “Lily, I will return tomorrow to begin our courtship.” With that, he whistled to his Riders. Father and his men stepped aside, out of the road, and allowed them to gallop past. We watched in silence as they grew smaller, leaving a cloud of dust behind, until they veered off the road and into the treeline at the stream about a mile away.

I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

Is this happening? This is happening.

***

The hush of twilight lingered long after the Riders had vanished into the trees. The air felt charged, brittle with the aftershock of what had transpired. I stood in the center of the road, skirts still clutched in both hands, my palm tingling with the echo of the Calling. Jarek shifted beside me, his usual bravado muted.

Father let out a long, low sigh, finally releasing the tension from his shoulders. “Well,” he said, his voice rough with fatigue and something else—relief, perhaps, or resignation. “That’s a day I never thought I’d see.”

I managed a nod, but words failed me. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me—my brother, the neighbors, even the children peering from behind the kitchen curtains. I was suddenly aware of how young I must look, how small. Yet, inside, something had shifted. The throb in my palm was a reminder: I was not the same girl who had woken up this morning.

Father placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, guiding me back toward the house. “Come, Lily. Let’s not stand out here gawking. There’s work to be done, and your mother will want to hear what happened.”

The walk back was silent, save for the crunch of gravel and the distant chorus of crickets. Jarek lingered at my side. “You all right?” he asked quietly, not meeting my eyes.

I nodded, then shook my head. “I don’t know. Everything’s changed, hasn’t it?”

He offered a half-smile. “Maybe. Maybe not. You’re still Lily. Just… with a glowing hand and a barbarian suitor now.”

I couldn’t help but laugh—a short, startled sound. “That’s one way to put it.”

Inside, the house was warm and golden, the scents of stew and bread filling the air. Mother looked up from the hearth, her face a careful mask. It was obvious the little ones had told her what was happening, and it was likely she had watched from the window. 

“Well?” she asked, her gaze flickering from me to Father and back.

Father explained, voice low and steady, as the rest of the family gathered close. I listened, numb, as he recounted the encounter, omitting nothing. When he finished, there was a moment of silence, broken only by Rose’s small, worried voice: “Will you have to go away, Lily?”

I knelt beside her, brushing a stray curl from her cheek. “No one will make me do anything I don’t want to do,” I promised, though the words felt hallow. I wasn’t sure if I was reassuring her or myself.

Later, after supper, I slipped away to the back porch, the cool night air a balm against my fevered skin. I stared at my palm, watching the faint pulse of light. What did it mean, truly, to be Called? Was it fate, magic, or simply a cruel trick of nature?

A rustle in the darkness drew my attention. I tensed, but it was only Jarek, carrying two mugs of tea. He handed one to me and leaned against the rail. “You know,” he said, “Father’s right. You have a choice. But I’ve never seen a Calling before. None of us have. This is bigger than all of us.”

I sipped the tea, letting its warmth steady me. “Do you think I’m meant to go with him?”

Jarek shrugged. “I think you’re meant to decide. That’s what matters.”

As the stars wheeled overhead and the pulse in my palm kept time with my heart, I wondered what tomorrow would bring. Would Kobahn keep his word? Would I find the courage to choose my own fate? Or had the choice already been made for me, long before I was born?

Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled, and I shivered—not from fear, but from the certainty that everything was about to change.

***

The last light faded from the sky as Kobahn and his men made camp at the edge of the farmstead, the dust of their passage settling quietly behind them. No one spoke until they had reached the stream, a silver thread winding through the wild grass at the border of the cultivated fields. Only then did the Riders dismount, their movements deliberate, careful not to disturb the hush that had settled over the land.

Dagan, the broadest of the Riders, broke the silence first. “They looked at us as though we were wolves at their door.” He knelt to splash water on his face, shaking his head. “They do not trust us.”

“Nor should they,” rumbled Saban, his voice low as distant thunder. “We are strangers here. And this—” He flexed his palm, which lacked the glimmer of the flame on Kobahn’s hand. “This is not their way.”

Kobahn crouched by the fire they built, his gaze fixed on the dancing flames. He felt the ache in his hand, the absence of the girl—Lily—like a missing limb. He wondered if she felt it too, and hoped it was only pain for him. “It is not their way,” he agreed. “But it is ours. The Calling does not care for borders or custom.”

A few of the younger men, restless and wary, cast glances back toward the farm, where warm lamplight spilled from the windows. “She is small,” muttered one, “but fierce. Her people will not let her go easily.”

Kobahn’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “Would you respect her, or her kin, if they did?” He looked around at his Riders, their faces half-lit by fire and half-shadowed by uncertainty. “We come as guests. We stay as petitioners, not conquerors. If the girl refuses, I remain until the pain passes or kills us. That is the price.”

Saban nodded, his eyes grave. “We have lost Riders to the Calling before. Some went mad from the longing. Some tried to force fate and paid in blood. You will not do as they did?”

Kobahn shook his head. “No. The old ways are not for this land. Her father is wise—he gave me a chance to prove myself, not a demand to fight. I will honor that.”

Dagan grunted, tossing a stick into the fire. “If she chooses you, she will be strong enough for our people.”

Kobahn stared into the flames, his thoughts drifting back to the moment when Lily’s palm had glowed in answer to his. For a heartbeat, he had felt something like hope. “She is strong. Stronger than she knows.”

The wind shifted, carrying the scent of bread from the farmhouse and the distant, wild tang of the forest that lay beyond this stream. The men ate in silence, each lost in his own memories of home—the mothers, sisters, and wives left behind, and the old stories of the Calling that bound souls across impossible distances.

As the moon rose, Kobahn stood and walked to the edge of the camp, staring back toward the farm. He pressed his palm to his chest, feeling the pulse echo in the darkness. “Rest, brothers,” he called softly. “Tomorrow, we begin as suitors, not strangers.”

Behind him, the Riders quieted one by one, the fire burning low. In the hush, Kobahn let himself hope—not for conquest, but for understanding. For the chance that, in this foreign place, fate might become something chosen, not imposed.

He watched the farmhouse until the last light winked out, then turned to the stars, silent witness to the promise and peril of the Calling.