The Fires of Esus - Ranger's Apprentice

Chapter 23: Connected

The second night Will and Horace stayed with the druid camp, they refused to watch the ceremony. Horace declared he "would vomit if he saw another hand get cut off." Will said something similar, but with a bit more tact.

So as a result, they were confined to a tent on the far edge of the camp with their hands over their ears to avoid the horrifying screams of the poor bloke who had volunteered that night.

Will didn't want to guess what limb he was cutting off. Hand, foot, ear--all of them were equally disgusting.

It was over in only a few minutes. Will sighed with relief and let his hands fall back into his lap as the sounds of quiet chatting, and the lack of agonized screaming, indicated the ritual was finished.

That was the strangest and most unsettling thing about these people. They were perfectly comfortable with watching someone amputate their own limbs and then going about their day as if nothing had happened. Contrary to their violence, they had been extremely hospitable and peaceful towards them. Will and Horace both had their own tent, and they were allowed to travel with the druid tribe as far as they wanted. They were allowed to see any of the rituals without any hesitation, they shared meals and clothing with them, and the children even asked to play with them during the day.

Every evening they were presented with clean white robes and a green wreath for their head, and asked if they wanted to participate. Tonight, they had said no, of course, but their kindness and openness about their lifestyle surprised both Will and Horace.

But their openness only went so far. After the first night, Lewellyn had refused to tell them anything they wanted to know. They had asked plenty of questions over their evening meal, and throughout the following day as the group had walked slowly across the countryside, moving south a few creeping kilometers at a time. But she had not relented--her lips and everyone else's stayed sealed.

And all the while, they were still only a day's ride from Castle Redmont, where Will and Horace both knew that the King was visiting. Will had crept out the following night to send a message to Halt, and he had received an update from him about everyone's whereabouts. He knew that when he wanted to return, it would be to Redmont.

Will hoped that by staying with them, by spending time with them, eventually they would crack. But he also knew they didn't have time to spend weeks following along with their sickening ceremonies. He wasn't confident that he could stop them from setting another fire, and he wasn't confident about how to even get rid of them. Would he have to drive them out of Araluen? Would he have to threaten them?

To make matters worse, Lewellyn had let slip that she wasn't the leader of the tribe. She wasn't the one who made the decisions, only the second-in-command that held down the fort while the true leader was gone. Gone where, she wouldn't say. She had refused to say anything else on the matter even though he pestered her fiercely. Not wanting to make too much of a scene or break her trust in him, Will had relented reluctantly.

But both he and Horace were at their wit's ends. A full twenty-four hour period of human decapitation was enough to make anyone's nerves fray.

"Thank god, they're done. I was starting to feel nauseous again," Horace muttered, putting down the linen pillows he had stuffed over his ears. Their tent was surprisingly luxurious, with plush pillows and blankets, a woven mat on the floor and a pop-up table that held their small bags. They each had their own cots to sleep on, and someone to stand guard outside their tent and bring them their food. It was hard to tell if the tribe was bribing them into staying by giving them the royal treatment, or if this was just how they treated all their guests. Will suspected bribery, but didn't want to turn down a little luxury if there wasn't any harm in it.