The Fires of Esus - Ranger's Apprentice

Chapter 3: The Eye of the Sun

He breathed in.

He breathed out. 

The fire came. It flickered behind his eyelids. The blessing of Esus.

The others gathered around him stood unmoving, silent, just as they should. The spirits would not approve of any distractions during the sacrifice. Their ceremonial white robes and gowns, including his own, were clean and crisp, and the wreaths they wore upon their heads were handcrafted daily to stay fresh and new for every ceremony.

They were on the edge of what the Araluens would call the Solitary Plains, but to him, it was An Spás Naofa, the Sacred Place. A place where no human lived, where the spirits could live freely without being tainted with the imperfections of people. Those who followed the old ways in Celtica, the ancient religion, were becoming rarer with every passing year. But those few formed a tight bond, a small but powerful tribe on the northern border of Celtica.

The forests were sacred to him and his tribe. And no matter what god they were blessed by, they could not destroy a tree, and end the lives of so many precious spirits. So he and his tribe had been forced out of Celtica and into the An Spás Naofa, where no trees grew, and there was less danger of angering the spirits. It was always at the eye of the sun that they performed their ceremonies, the brightest time of the day, when the world was most alive, at the edge of the Naofa where the trees stopped growing, the border of life and nothing.

It was also the time of day when the sun was the hottest. And that is when they would complete their ritual. An hour of prayer and meditation in the bright sunlight, surrounding the sundial, and then later, when the light had gone from the world, they would bring their sacrifice before Esus when he most needed it.

He watched as one of the others came forward, a blonde woman, and she drew her small silver blade. He looked away as she cut into her arm, he never liked watching decapitation. He ignored her cries of pain. This was for Esus, and no one else. He demanded sacrifices, and his people gave them.

A few of the woman's companions stepped up to help her, wrapping up what was left of her arm and took her away to heal her. The rest stayed, watching the blood pooled on the surface of the sundial drip slowly down the sides, staining the stone again with red.

Esus is pleased.

The fire behind his eyelids burns brighter, the sun warms his skin, and he prays.

The spirits would not be happy with bloodshed, and the other tribes wouldn't either. But what Esus wants, the tribe must deliver. He was their appointed god, the one that they worshipped above all other gods. He was the god of fire, of flesh, and of rebirth. The tribe lived to embody Esus's ideals and promote the sacrifice of flesh through fire, leading to a beautiful rebirth. The reincarnation of the soul. New life spawned from the old. Out of the ashes, a phoenix, a pure spirit, nature renewed.

The hour had passed, and the sundial's shadow passed over the noon mark. A bell rang, and the tribe stepped back from the circle and wandered off in pairs, back into the trees where their camp was. Only he was left on the edge of the Naofa to take down the sundial, wiping the decapitated arm and excess blood off the surface and wrapping it up in its red cloth bag. Red was better for hiding the blood. It may be accepted among their tribe, but random travelers on the road reacted poorly to visible blood. They were called things like murderers, psychopaths, even demons. But they knew better, they were the exact opposite of demons. They worshipped nature, and the spirits that lived in the trees, the waters, the animals. The gods demanded sacrifices for their gifts, and the spirits needed to be appeased to keep the world balanced, to keep peace. They were not a tribe of demons, or psychopaths. And they did not murder, not in the purest, evilest sense of the word. They sacrificed for the good of the world and everything that lived in it. If people were sensible, if they truly understood their belief, they would gladly let them.

The sundial was put away properly now, and he was about to carry it back into the forest when someone stepped out of the woods. He glanced up to see who it was, and recognized them as a member of another tribe. The man wore a similar white robe and wreath, but his tattoos were different. His were the markings of Esus the other man's were of Birgit.

"Oide Cuinn. Síocháin a bheith ar domhan," the man greeted him traditionally.

"Agus go mbeidh an domhan ar a suaimhneas," he answered.

Teacher Cuinn. May peace be in the world.

And may the world be at peace.

"I come with news from the Grove." The man bowed, as he should. He was a simple messenger, he had not learned enough to be considered a scholar.

"What does the Grove say?"

"They do not approve of your allegiance to Esus. They say that you are taking the lives of too many spirits. The balance of the world will be undone because of your doing."

Cuinn was a scholar. Scholars do not allow their human emotions to surpass their spiritual peace, every good scholar knows that. He had to work very hard to keep his emotions in check, but he managed to do so. "The last time I heard this, I moved here to Naofa, where no trees would be harmed. I am only sacrificing what Esus demands, nothing more, nothing less." He peered down his nose at the messenger. "The world is balanced by my tribe's obedience. How dare the Grove accuse us of such crimes." He breathed in deeply through his nose, trying to stay calm.

The messenger cowered, his face down. "I'm sorry, oide. I will tell them your message."

"Go in peace. I look forward to their understanding and hope that they leave us to worship our god in peace."

"I will tell them." The man turned away with as much dignity as he could muster, and walked back into the forest, melting out of sight almost immediately.

Cuinn knew he must put this exchange behind him. A leader does not allow his tribe to be pained by his problems. He needed a new effigy tonight. Another sacrifice, of flesh through fire, must be made.

He breathed in.

He breathed out.

The blessing of Esus.

Another night of balance and peace. 

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A/N Some quick notes about this chapter - I used Google translate Irish for their language. To any Irish speakers out there, I'm sorry! I know it may not be correct so please correct it if it's wrong! More of your questions on who these people are and what they do will be answered in the next chapter for tomorrow very clearly, I promise! Thank you for reading, comment any further questions here. ;)

7/21/2020 - Edit: his name is now Cuinn.