by J. P. Rice
The farms, houses and castles dotted the frosty, sweeping scenery. I noticed the closest farmers were making pickled vegetables in big Mason jars. One of the small druids poured the steaming vinegar into the jars with a shaky hand, spilling some over the sides.
I looked up at the intersecting tree roots high above, flashing with blue electricity. The intertwined roots were loose enough to let in light for farming and heat. It appeared to be a dome-like structure and acted as an internet, delivering any necessary information to the druidic underworld.
The trees saw everything. And they never forgot.
Redridge and Alayna’s Pegasus came trotting over to us. The wingless faerie turned to me. “Ready to go to Clara Spiritus?”
I responded, “Of course. We aren’t wasting any time today.”
Alayna mounted the Pegasus and I sidled up next to Redridge. The peryton was a hybrid of a stag’s head and neck with the body of an eagle. An enormous eagle that stood up to my chest, mind you. The animal had bright, multicolored feathers that started with purple at the base, turned to red in the middle and to blue at the tips.
The majestic animal leaned down and I gave him a kiss on top of the head before I got on. I grabbed the area right next to the base of his wings and held on for dear life. He shifted around to get my weight evenly distributed.
The peryton started moving awkwardly and quickly sped up to a jog. The crisp wind blew through my hair, and the pain from my body was forgotten as Redridge reached sprinting speed. He leaped into the air, stretched out his enormous wings, and we took off from the ground.
Several strong wing beats lifted us into the sky. We chased after Alayna and the Pegasus, streaking toward the flashing tree roots above. The peryton navigated through the maze of roots, missing the blue flashes by inches.
We came out the other side, and our speed increased dramatically. I peeked over at Alayna and her Pegasus until the wind resistance caused me to close my eyes. I didn’t see the portal to take us to the home of the Gods this time, but I surely felt the constrictive hug from all sides.
The portal felt like you were being swallowed by a snake, pulled inch by inch, down a dark tunnel. Just as I thought my body would explode, the pressure relented, leaving me with the soreness from last night’s fights.
I came out in the Valley of the Gods and smiled at the floral surprise of free standing rose bushes. The only place I knew where roses bloomed in the winter. Alayna and I trekked through a few inches of snow and a light sprinkling fell from the sky.
We walked for almost a half-hour until we came to the audience chamber. The cutout area in the base of the mountain was well lit as we entered. Mabon, Cernunnos and the Dagda were in the middle of the room and Cerridwen was working a cauldron in the corner of the room.
I nodded to the silently stirring Cerridwen and headed for the other Gods. “Thanks for having me back.” I noticed swords hanging on the walls as competing scents vied for the attention of my nostrils. The cauldrons smelled like centuries worth of hot death, but a small fire in the corner of the room emitted a pleasing aroma of sage, rosemary and black pepper.
Cerridwen seemed unaffected as she moved from cauldron to cauldron, using an oar-sized ebony stirrer to mix up the mystery contents. Mabon took a few steps forward and met me with a hug. The short, dainty God with shaggy blond hair whispered, “Thanks again for that bit with the Jersey Devil. I still owe you.”
“Don’t mention it.” I shook hands with the other Gods and exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes. Alayna went to the fire in the corner. She started moving some long metal objects around. They were the size of pokers for a fireplace, about two feet long. She adjusted them so the tips were in the fragrant fire.
I looked around at the Gods. “With what’s going on right now, I think I’m going to need clearance to kill to complete this mission.”
The Dagda said, “Asking now. You’ve recently killed without permission, haven’t you?”
“I was tricked, but they turned out to be vampires who were going to kill me. I was only acting in self-defense. And what I’m asking for is not so I can act recklessly. The issue is that they are gaining so much power we must act quickly. A few might have to go for the greater good.” I lowered my head and felt awful for uttering those words.
Cernunnos, the Lord of the Wild Things, said, “Granted. We’ve prepared a ceremony to ready you for the upcoming battle you are about to face.” The God had long antlers sprouting from his head, wild hair and a mess of facial hair to match, but his usual avian friends weren’t nestled in his beard today.
Good, I’m glad they didn’t make me rehash all the details of the murder or give me a hard time over the matter.
Time to get right down to business. “How are you going to do that?”
The Dagda answered, “We are going to give you weaponry suited for your current foe.” The God of Power and Wisdom had corded muscle everywhere on his body. His build reminded me of a shorter version of Arnold Schwarzenegger in his weightlifting prime. The Dagda had close-cropped red hair peeking out from his black hooded cloak.
Mabon, the Young Son, looked at me with childlike wonder in his lively blue eyes, “You’re like a gladiator, and we are going to try to give you every advantage you might need.”
From the fire in the corner, Alayna called, “These will be ready in a few minutes.”
Cerridwen clapped her hands and a large round object started to rise from the ground. The strong firelight exposed a perfectly round oak tree trunk, sanded and stained to stunning perfection. The table was a few feet wide in circumference and it came up about two feet from the ground.
Cernunnos, The Dagda, and Mabon knelt around the small table and gestured for me to join them.
We all joined hands as the smoke from the fire mysteriously filled the room, hindering visibility. Mabon said, “Inhale deeply, this smoke will help you deal with the pain.”
Pain? The smoke made my body buzz and my brain felt like it was floating above my head. I couldn’t inhale too deeply because I kept gagging from the crosswinds coming from the kettles.
I could barely see Cernunnos sitting two feet away from me as his booming voice exploded, echoing off the walls, “We have a warrior who needs protection from confused spirits. We ask the souls of the first families to die on earth to join us. Join us in blessing this noble soul and guide Micheal on the righteous path.”
The Dagda’s soft voice spoke through the screen of smoke, “A warrior needs proper tools for success. We ask the souls of the first families to gather inside the weaponry within this room, enchant us with your presence. We honor you by observing the ancient ritual of tattooing a warrior forever with our runes.”
A loud crack of thunder stunned me (scared me), and the excess smoke flooded out the opening and into the winter air. The swords on the wall that had silver blades when I entered were now glowing orange. They appeared as if they had just come out of a forge.
Mabon spoke, “We ask the noble spirits to join us in the process of protecting a warrior against the evils that will inevitably be faced. A weapon can only be wielded by a physical body. We ask for help to bless this body, gain him wisdom and the ability to defeat darkness. Ancient spirits, we are calling on you to come out and bless these rune symbols.”
The air got heavier and the room started to shake wildly, scaring me that we were about to be crushed by the mountain.
After the mini-quake, Alayna approached with what appeared to be a branding iron. As she neared, I confirmed the suspicion. The Dagda turned to me, and said, “You don’t mind a little pain, do you?”
I didn’t respond, and Cernunnos said, “Lay both hands flat on the table and hold still.”
I followed his instructions except for the second part. My hands trembled as I could already feel the heat from Alayna’s brand, hovering over my right hand. The faerie said, “Take a few deep breaths.”
Closing my eyes, I took one deep breath and as I inhaled for the second,
a searing pain burnt the top of my hand. I looked down at my smoking flesh in the shape of a sharp-edged lowercase n. My heart fluttered, and the shock that always comes after intense pain spread through my system, tingling the tips of my ears.
Alayna hit the other hand, and I squirmed under the fiery metal. She pulled the branding iron away to reveal the same symbol as the first. The Dagda spoke, “This warrior begs to share in the primal creative force. The symbol of uruz is in the honor of the ancient spirits. From the first person to practice magic to the most recent, we ask that you join him on this journey.”
Another loud bang went off and the blades of the weapons took on a glowing emerald color this time. Mabon asked, “Are you all right?”
I responded, “I’ll be okay. The pain isn’t too excruciating I guess.” The secret smoke wasn’t the powerful anesthesia it had been advertised to be.
The Gods enjoyed a laugh, and the fact that I wasn’t in on the joke told me that the joke was on me. Mabon said, “They still need filled in with ink. That’s the painful part. The ancient process is not a fun one.”
Chapter 22
The Young Son explained (much to my dismay) that the branding was only to get an outline for a tattoo. Having rune symbols blessed by the Gods themselves on my mitts seemed pretty cool though. I just needed to take some more pain.
Mabon left the table and went to a carved-out shelf in the wall. He came back with a hammer that looked like it had been made in the prehistoric era with the stone head tied to a wooden shaft with what appeared to be sinew. The object in his other hand looked like a thin wooden ruler with a needle attached to one end. The Young Son went back to the shelf and came back with a glass well of black ink.
“Put your hand down,” Cernunnos instructed.
“Which one?”
“Whichever one you prefer to go first? The less jealous one,” Cernunnos said, and laughed.
I wasn’t really in the joking mood as I put my right hand on the oak table. Cernunnos and the Dagda worked together to hold my fingers and wrist down, a not-so-subtle warning that the pain was going to be substantial. Mabon dipped the needle in the ink, pulled it out and touched it to the uruz symbol as he gave me a tightlipped nod.
The hammer hit the ink needle and I thought I might pass out as sweat glossed over my entire body. Internally, my systems threatened to overheat and shut down as Mabon slowly moved the needle around the outline, tap, tap, tapping away to break the skin and set the ink.
I closed my eyes, but it didn’t help. The dizzying agony continued for an outrageous amount of time considering the size of the symbol, which could fit inside a quarter.
We finished both hands and the pain radiated from my new tatts, up my wrists and all the way to my shoulders. I was just glad this nonsense was over.
“That was the easy part. Are you ready for some real pain?” Mabon smirked.
I smiled, and it vanished as I realized he wasn’t messing around. “What are you talking about?”
Alayna informed me, “You need more symbols to surround your heart. Make you even stronger. And they activate your suit.”
Suit? Silently, I took my shirts off and the Gods helped me to lay my back on the oak table. I shifted the amulet to me necklace around and out of the way. Alayna scurried over to the fire and picked up a different branding iron. I looked through one eye as my mentor returned with a glowing iron. She wavered back and forth, trying to find the exact spot and the anticipation was killing me.
Alayna nodded to Cernunnos and the Dagda, who held me in place. I closed my eyes, but it didn’t dull the pain as I convulsed. Cerridwen started humming beautiful melodies from the side of the room as Mabon spoke. “Fire. Knowledge. This warrior asks that fire and knowledge stay close to his heart. From the first human to harness fire to the center of the earth, let the noble flames guide our warrior.”
The brand left a symbol that looked like this: <
I could see the orange glow of the next symbol and it appeared to be a capital I without a top or bottom slash, just a single vertical swipe. It hurt just as much as the other symbols despite its smaller size.
The Dagda said, “Ice. Cosmic coherence. Please allow the frost of the first families to flow through this young warrior. Equip him with all the knowledge of the cosmos to battle against a destructive foe hellbent on destroying innocent people. Bless Micheal with the chill of battle.”
Another sudden sound like two boulders crashing into each other caused a puff of smoke to jump from the fire. The blades of the runed weapons took on a snowy white tone.
Alayna approached with another branding iron, this one shaped like an arrow.
Cernunnos’s voice echoed in the chamber, “A warrior. A warrior who carries this rune marking shall fight till his death to defend against evil and wrongdoing. Our warrior shall carry this close to his heart so he shan’t forget his oath. Please join us in blessing Micheal with the strong heart of a warrior. Let his animal friends give him assistance if necessary and allow him to bask in the wisdom of thousands of years of their experience. A warrior oft walks alone, but we ask you to give this man assistance.”
I peeked at the wall of weapons and the blades had turned bright ruby red.
Either the smoke had finally taken effect, or I’d gotten used to the pain, or I’d reached some state of deliriousness. At any rate, Alayna sauntered over with a glowing sharp-lined capital R at the end of the branding iron.
She lined it up to complete a diamond shaped pattern surrounding my heart. So much for that feel-good talk. This one hurt the most as wisps of dark smoke plumed from the sides of the iron. Made sense since it had the most surface area, but Alayna seemed to hold this one down longer than the others.
Cerridwen continued her beautiful humming, and Mabon said, “Raido wheel. A chariot of journey. Spirits ancient and spirits new, bless this warrior through and through. His grand journey has just begun, I join your blessing in the name of the Young Son. Help our friend in another world, to let the citizens rest with hope assured. Bless his journey with the Gods adjoined, and stay close to this heart for the rest of days.”
The weapons on the wall had a fluorescent rainbow wave running up and down the blades. I may or may not have passed out while Mabon filled the symbols in with black ink and primitive tattoo tools.
I stood up with the help of Cernunnos, who said, “Let me see your hands.”
I held out my mitts and he brushed his thumbs over my new markings. Owie. He did the same thing to the symbols on my chest, and said, “In the name of Cernunnos, Lord of the Wild Things, I deem Micheal Merlino worthy of carrying our ancient symbols.”
Mabon and the Dagda repeated the same process, leaving a ring of fire around my heart. Cerridwen approached me, sweeping her long curly hair away from her gorgeous face as she stopped humming. She rubbed her silky thumbs over all my markings and said, “In the name of Cerridwen, Goddess of Poetic Inspiration, I deem Micheal Merlino worthy of carrying these ancient symbols.”
It was the first time I’d ever heard her talk. The humming was a strong precursor, but her voice was...it was—amazing. Her voice rang out firm and true, yet had the daintiness of a Disney Princess.
And with her words, the sharp pain from the tattoos relented and the soreness of earlier returned. A great trade-off. I assumed the entire shin-dig was over until Alayna said, “Now is the fun time. You get to pick your weapons that have been crafted by Goibniu.”
The wall of weaponry’s blades had returned to the original silver shade. The wall had everything from long swords, longer than me, to knives with blades shorter than my pinky finger and everything in between. I decided that I would need a sword suited for infantry battle and several knives as I walked back and forth trying to make the difficult choice.
All the blades had rune symbols etched into them and I focused on a shorter blade, pattern forged with rune markings. It was basically a hand-and-a-half sword with a black hilt and a glass eye as a pommel. Intrigued, I grabbed
the grip and the blade glowed in molten orange. I turned to Mabon, “Is that good?”
The Young Son said, “That’s really good. Keep in mind one thing, if you lose any of the weapons, a price will have to be paid.”
“A price?” I cocked my head to the side, hoping he didn’t mean what I thought.
The Dagda informed me, “These weapons are so dangerous that losing them could set off a sequence of catastrophic events that could change the world. If any of the weapons are lost, you will have one month to return them, or death shall be inflicted.”
I grabbed three knives and the blades did the same as the sword when I picked them up. I selected a long dagger, an iron quillon dagger, and a knuckle knife.
The Dagda said, “That sword hasn’t been used in some time. Hundreds of years, at least.” He nodded to Cerridwen, who rushed over from the cauldrons. He said, “You know what needs to be done.”
Cerridwen took the weapon from the other God and motioned for me to follow her to the cauldrons. The foul stench made me hesitate, but I inched over to that side of the room. She said, “In the battle of good versus evil, death is the only victor. When fighting evil, one cannot be afraid of death, delivering it or receiving it. The same can be said of a weapon. A blade scared of death is a blade useless. I shall plunge this into the valley of death, so it shall never be afraid in battle.”
Cerridwen held the weapon over one of the steaming cauldrons and thrust the blade down. The blade should have hit the bottom of the kettle but Cerridwen shoved the entire weapon and even her arm up to the elbow into the steaming cast iron vessel.
Screams of agony erupted from the kettle and reverberated around the room, haunting my ears. It was the terrible, desperate, crying pleas for mercy from people about to die or dying. I wanted to use one of the knives to pierce my eardrums and make it stop.