The Fires of Esus - Ranger's Apprentice

Chapter 27: Good Riddance

"Say it."

"No."

"Say it."

Will shook his head again, the pain making his vision dark and blurry, struggling to speak. He lay flat on his back where the soldiers had dropped him after the branding iron was lifted from his shoulder. It had only been a fraction of a second, Will didn't even feel the pain until the iron was long gone. But it had hit all at once, and the skin on his shoulder felt like it was on fire. Literally. It was so powerful that he had blacked out momentarily, collapsing to the floor, and everything around him spun and changed colors as he struggled to stay conscious.

Athol, or Cuinn, whoever he was, stood over him, anger flashing in his eyes. The Celtic King huddled behind him, reciting lines of the druid initiation ceremony in Celtic. Will had tried his best to listen, but the pain made it impossible.

"Say you agree. Say it!" Spit flew from Athol's lips as he hissed in anger. He was waiting for Will to comply, to say he agreed to become a druid. It was the last step of the ceremony.

"I won't," Will gasped, biting back a howl of pain as his shoulder throbbed.

Usually this ceremony would be a beautiful thing, according to what Lewellyn had told him and Horace back at the druid camp. The candidate would wear beautiful clothing, and recite prayers and sing songs with the tribe before making their oath to the god. After that, they would be tattooed, and given medicines that dulled the pain so that they could celebrate with their new tribe afterward.

But not for Will. Instead, he was lying on the ground, nearly unconscious with pain, and he, Alyss, and Halt were all about to be killed.

In a moment where the pain receded, Will lifted his head to try to look at the burn. It was about ten centimeters across, and luckly the lines of the brand had been quite thin. He had forced himself not to squirm, and it seemed to have paid off. The site where the metal had actually touched his skin was bright red, even purple in some places, and the hot ink had been burned into his skin, boiling traces of it still tickled down his ribcage where it had leaked out the sides of the brand. The tattoo was misshapen because of the swelling and discoloration, but Will had no doubt it would heal up once treated and be quite clean, almost beautiful.

Beautiful, later. But right now? One of the most painful things he'd ever felt.

The dizziness was finally wearing off, and his vision stopped spinning and splitting. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Alyss in the corner, crouching low on her heels, supporting Halt as he sat up. Finally, he's awake. Better late than never.

"If you won't say it now, then we'll burn her now and threaten her to make you say it later," Athol hissed angrily. He gestured to the guards, who turned and reached for Alyss.

"Alyss!" Will cried out in panic, pure horror setting in as he realized she would have to endure the same pain he was feeling. Could she survive the shock? Maybe, but would it hurt the baby?

She had moved a few feet away from Halt, scooting along the wall, leaving him to his own devices as the men moved toward her at Athol's command. The soldier that was trying to grab her arms to hoist her up suddenly collapsed to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Will's eye caught the dull sheen of his striker in her fist as she swung at the next guard as well, dropping him next to his friend. Thank god. He could see her rise to her feet as soon as he called to her. Her hand dipped into her skirts, pulling out the long, deadly saber she always kept with her, and cut the next man down as well with some quick and efficient slashes. She had come a long way from her petty spars on the deck of the Skandian ship Wolfwill with Evanlyn some years back, Will thought.