Erasen turned around after finishing the song, finding most of the group already standing behind him, listening to the music. The Lord Arum, the Lady Elaran, the Lady An, and the Lord Irn stood in their places beside the stones respective to their Islands, a sword in front and a cloak to the left of each of the soon-to-be Council members. Lady Las had positioned herself in the middle-front of the stones, kneeling. A suit of armor lay in front of her. The Lord Forgotten Man stood guard at the part of the trail leading to the valley, while the Lady Moren had moved to the part of the trail leading toward the huts. Imen was not present.
Erasen bowed to the group of his superiors. The Lord Arum nodded in reply. The Lady Las smiled. All attention was quickly turned to the sound of the footsteps on the trail, coming down to the Clearing of the Five Stones.
All the Priests and pupils present knelt down on their right knees as Imen appeared from the bend in the trail. He bowed quickly, acknowledged Erasen, and slowly walked to the center of the Five Stones, facing the valley.
“Fellow Priests and pupils,” he said, addressing the entire group. “We gather here now to ordain a new Council of High Priests, an event such as has not been seen in the past century. The histories concerning this ceremony are quite vague, and not much applicable to the situation we find ourselves in. We have, by studying deeply of the histories, found what we need to know in the carrying out of this ceremony but for one thing: Who is to ordain the Great High Priest? There has been only one in the history of this Council worthy of self-ordination. In other cases, there were other High Priests who could very well perform the task. We have neither this morning, aside from myself. Who shall ordain the Great High Priest? The question ran through my mind a thousand times as I slept and as I walked to this Clearing, and I have only one method in mind that I would think proper for such an occasion in the situation we find ourselves.”
The Priests held their breath, waiting for him to finish. Erasen trembled slightly, mostly out of nervousness at the importance of what he was witnessing and participating in.
“The Ai shall ordain, and the Ai shall revoke ordination. Erasen,” he said, looking directly at the young man facing him. “My lord,” said Erasen, standing up from the kneeling position. Imen smiled. “Take the red cloak off of the ground, and help me put it on. If I be not the man ordained by the Ai, than may this cloak be drenched with water, and may I be soaked through my armor and my undergarments.”
Erasen slowly dropped his flute on the ground. He solemnly walked over to the centermost of the Stones, picked up the cloak in front of it, and spread it open behind Lord Imen, allowing the High Priest to put his arms through the armholes. When the cloak rested on Imen’s shoulders, the pupil stepped back a few paces, waiting in silence for whatever would happen next. All the Priests watched in silence for something, anything, to happen. After what seemed an eternity, Imen cleared his throat.
“Erasen, feel the cloak. How wet is it?”
Erasen stepped back up to Imen, taking a part of the cloak in his hands, feeling it for any bit of moisture. “It is completely dry, my lord,” he said. Imen smiled, nodding at the pupil. “Remove the Red Sword from the ground,” he ordered, pointing at the Sword. Erasen promptly obeyed.
The High Priest continued. “Should I be unworthy of this holy position which I bestow upon myself, then may this sword turn to lead as my hands close over the hilt, and may I not be able to hold it above the ground.”
Erasen handed the sword to Lord Imen, waiting for the worst to happen. Imen held the Red Sword for a few seconds, then in one quick motion causing Erasen to lose balance and fall on his back, he swung the sword high into the air. The early morning sunlight penetrated and reflected off the rubies that studded its hilt, casting a wondrous red aura over the Circle. The sword itself seemed to shimmer without the aid of the sun. The Priests, Priestesses, and Erasen looked up in awe at the wonder they were witnessing.
As quickly as the miracle had started, it ended, the sword losing its magical light. Imen lowered it to the ground, holding it out to his side. His breath was quick and heavy, as if he had climbed the mountain trail again. The rest of the Priests and Priestesses looked at him worriedly, yet said nothing as he continued.
“Lord Arum, a Priest of the Island of Ban, come forward.”
The tall, thin young man arose, a breeze blowing his back-length black hair behind his shoulders, leaving a few loose strands near his face. When the Lord Arum was not a pace’s distance from the Great High Priest, Imen raised the Red Sword between them, broadside out.
“Do you, Lord Arum, warrior and Priest of the Island of Ban, pledge your life and blood in service to the Great High Priest, the Red Sword, and the Ai?”
“I so pledge,” said the Lord Arum, his face stern and solemn. “Raise your right hand,” said Imen, turning the blade of the Red Sword out.
Arum obediently raised his right hand, bringing it close to the blade of the sword. Imen immediately touched the blade to the Priest’s hand, pulling it back quickly. A dark, red ribbon of blood was left where the Red Sword had touched. A corresponding red liquid dripped from the blade.
Imen smiled, motioning for Arum to turn around, facing the rest of the clearing, and below that, the valley. Erasen, without having to be told, picked up the white cloak, handing it to the new Great High Priest.
“Of this cloak cometh knowledge and the wisdom to use it. Should you be unworthy of the blood oath which you have taken, and of the cloak which shall be placed upon you, may you babble like the foolish child when this cloak rests upon your shoulders.” Imen then proceeded to open the cloak, placing it upon the Priest. Arum immediately smiled, looking up to the sky, saying nothing.
As Imen looked to the Stone to his right, Erasen, on one knee, held the White Sword out to him. Imen nodded at the pupil, taking the sword. Arum turned around, again facing Imen. “As it has been said in the prophecy of the Lord Dazu called Aio, ‘From the White Sword cometh wisdom, and many great tasks for you to do.’” Imen paused a moment. “The test of worthiness by wisdom has been passed. Should you be unworthy of this sword, may you be unable to perform the next task I give you, no matter how its simplicity.”
He handed Arum the sword, saying, “Raise the sword above your head, Lord Arum, Priest of the Island of Ban.” As if by itself, the sword was lifted high above Arum’s head, the diamonds glittering in the sunlight. Again, it seemed for a brief moment that the sword itself produced light.
As the Lord Arum lowered the White Sword, Imen nodded at Erasen yet another time, and this time, the pupil bringing to him a large ring, cut from a single diamond, the ancient Aihi symbol for the Island of Ban cut into its intricate design at the top. “Although this object has no known value where magic and science are concerned, it is the symbol of the High Priest’s position. Honor this symbol with a service equal to the honor that this ring gives you.”
He then took the ring from Erasen and placed it on Arum’s finger. “By the ceremonial powers vested in me of the Ai, and according to the customs of the ancient Aihi, I hereby ordain you, Lord Arum, now High Priest of the Island of Ban, next in the line to bear the Red Sword.”
Arum knelt again, before returning to the stone closest to Imen’s right, only to bend the knee again. The Lady Elaran, kneeling, stood up next, her tall, strong heavyset frame solemnly lumbering toward Imen, coming to a halt in front of him. Although she did not look so tall from a distance, anyone could tell that she was at least a head taller than Imen.
“Do you, Lady Elaran, warrior and Priestess of the Island of Carn, pledge your life and blood in service to the Great High Priest, the Red Sword, and to the Ai?” said Imen again, holding his sword in between the two in the same manner as with Arum. “I so pledge,” said the young Priestess, raising her right hand without waiting for instruction to do so.
The blood pledge was repeated, the stain more visible on the Red Sword. Imen took the black cloak from Erasen, who had been holding it, waiting for the chance to giv
e it to Imen. He motioned Elaran to turn around, facing the growing Council.
“This cloak shall be more a protection to you then will the shield you carry with your armor, for while wearing it, you can neither be wounded nor become ill. Should you be unworthy of this cloak, may your face break out in boils, and may you die of painful sickness at my feet in the presence of those gathered here.”
The group gasped at hearing the consequences of unworthiness. Elaran became tense, knowing the type of death she faced if she were not meant to wear the cloak. “Into the will of the Ai I place my life and my body,” she murmured.
Imen spread the cloak open, standing on his toes and stretching his arms in order to rest it on Elaran’s shoulders. The Priests and Priestesses held their breath, waiting to see what would happen to the giantess of a Priestess. Elaran closed her eyes, expecting the worst. Elaran waited for a few seconds after the cloak had come to rest on her shoulders, Imen having drawn back. Eyes still closed, she reached her hand to her face, feeling around for any deformities that had not been there earlier. Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned around, facing the new Lord Aio again.
Imen took the Black Sword from the waiting Erasen, holding the hilt toward the large Priestess. “From the Black Sword cometh healing for those wounded and without rest,” he said. “Should you be worthy to wield the healing power of this sword, may its hilt heal your hand from the wound inflicted by the blood pledge.”
She grasped the sword in her right hand, immediately dropping it to the ground. Not only had the sword cut on her hand disappeared, so had all the other scars and scratches that hand had obtained through the various activities of a Priestess.
Imen next took a ring from Erasen, cut from a single piece of onyx. As with the White Ring, the symbol of the Island of Carn carved into the plain smoothness of the stone. “This ring which I now give you, although it has no magical or scientific powers, is a symbol of healing, to be worn only by the greatest healer of the Five Islands.” Imen placed the ring on her finger, surprised at how smooth the ring slid onto Elaran’s thick, strong finger. “By the ceremonial powers vested in me by the Ai, and according to the customs of the ancient Aihi, I hereby ordain you, Lady Elaran, now High Priestess of the Island of Carn.” The High Priestess bowed on one knee to Imen, returning to her place at the stone to the left of Imen, then bowed again, facing Imen.
The Lady An hesitated a few seconds before standing up. Although very small and quite thin even while wearing her blue armor, she was not the frail Priestess that the sight of her figure led many to believe. A very young Priestess, yet already a veteran of war, her small size and peculiar skills with the sword had kept her from death many times, and had been the downfall of many seasoned warriors.
She stood before Imen, repeating the blood oath as had Arum and Elaran. The Great High Priest had to bend down a bit to complete this task, the part of the Red Sword that had performed the blood pledge covered and dripping with blood. Imen then spread the cloak, preparing to place it on the young warrior-priestess. “You, Lady An, who have fought well with the sword and have lived because of it and by it, may your body fall backward onto the Red Sword should you be unworthy of this cloak, that by the sword you may die.”
Imen placed the cloak on An’s shoulders, making sure the size would not cause it to slip off. He then quickly knelt, holding the Red Sword that she should fall on it if not one of the chosen by the Ai. The Lady An suddenly doubled over, away from the Red Sword, as if having been struck in the stomach. She immediately came back to an upright standing position, not having fallen onto the Red Sword.
By the time she had turned around to face Imen, the new Great High Priest was holding out the hilt of the Blue Sword to her. “From the Blue Sword many wonders that only the Ai can best,” he said. “Should you be worthy to wield this great sword, may you with it perform a wonder for us.”
The Lady An grabbed the Blue Sword, immediately thrusting it into the ground. The ground began to shake slightly, the quake growing in intensity the longer the sword was in the ground. A shocked look came over An as she tried to pull the sword out. The shaking of the ground, however, had become so violent by that time that she could barely hold onto it. She was shaken off her balance, landing on the ground, her body swinging with the shaking of the mountain as her hands kept a hold on the Blue Sword. Imen attempted to stumble over to help her, but fell hard on his back, feeling a sharp pain, his breath becoming short.
In an effort to push herself off the ground and to try to yank the Blue Sword free while standing, An took her hands off the Blue Sword. The shaking immediately stopped. Imen raised his eyebrows, immediately closing his eyes tightly in a wince as he got up, his back unable to completely straighten, having been injured by his fall during the short, violent tremor. “I suppose that we have our wonder, although I would have preferred a thunderstorm or a fire show in the sky to that,” he said.
The rest of the Council, ordained or no, began returning to their kneeling positions, each grimacing at the pain from some hurt caused by the ‘wonder’ of the Blue Sword.
The Great High Priest took a blue ring, cut from a single piece of sapphire. Its design was simple, being no more than a couple straight lines crossing each other at certain irregular places on the ring. The symbol of the Island of Saresthe Island from which she camewas carved onto a flat part of the ring. It too, like the ring’s design, was quite simple.
“This ring, Lady An,” said Imen, “is the symbol of your High Priestess-hood, stained through the centuries by blood, sweat, flesh, goodness, and honor, not by disgrace, cowardice, or evil. Let not so much as a speck of dust mar its future.” The ring was then placed on her finger. “By the ceremonial powers vested in me of the Ai, and according to the customs of the ancient Aihi, I hereby ordain you, Lady An, now High Priestess of the Island of Sares.”
The High Priestess bowed to Imen, returning to the outermost stone to the right of Imen. A tall young man, his skin drawn tightly over his face as if nothing but skin and bone composed his body, rose from a kneeling position, approaching the Lord Imen. He had no hair on his head, but instead proudly wore the scars of many wounds and injuries to his head in place of the hair.
Imen looked up, the Lord Irn seeming even taller now that his back was bent. They went through the blood oath quickly, the blood dripping down the hilt of the Red Sword. As the blood oath was finished, Imen motioned the tall man to stand up. “Lord Irn, of all the members of this Council gathered here, you alone have shown no deceit, even as a child so young to not know the better. Within you is honesty and integrity without flaw or blemish. Should your blood oath have had the smallest part of any deceit, may the weight of this cloak bear you to the ground.”
He took the green cloak from Erasen, putting it over the tall, thin body of the new High Priest.
“Put me down! Put me down!” shouted Irn angrily in a high pitched nasal voice. “If it won’t stop I’ll have it burned when I get to the ground,” trying to remove the too large, yet too short cloak as he began floating up into the air. The cloak immediately set him down, as if to say that it did not wish to be burned. Those of the new High Council not in too much pain to laugh did so. Irn frowned, walking up to Imen, brushing off the cloak.
Imen took the Green Sword from Erasen and held it out, hilt forward, to Irn. “The Green Sword shall bring back the past in the form of the Great Serpentaur. This, Lord Irn, is the prophecy which all High Priests of the Island of Cerel dream every night to come within their time, yet dread it with the passing of every day. With this sword comes not a test of worthiness, but a blessing: that you might be the worthy bearer of this sword in the fulfilling of this prophecy.” He handed the Green Sword to Irn, who solemnly bowing, accepted it.
A green ring was then handed to Imen, cut from a single piece of emerald, the symbol of the Island of Cerel carved into it. “This ring, Lord Irn,” he said, “is the symbol of your high Priesthood. No finger that has worn this ring has ever
belonged to one of the false tongue. Do not let your finger be the first.” Irn held out his hand allowing Imen to put it on his finger. “By the ceremonial powers vested in me of the Ai, and according to the customs of the ancient Aihi, I hereby ordain you, Lord Irn, now High Priest of the Island of Cerel.”
Cerel’s new High Priest walked back to his stone, the outermost to Imen’s left. Las timidly walked forward, her red armor shining in the rising sun. She bowed to Imen as she neared him, standing up again and repeating the blood oath as those who had gone before her. “Lady Las, Priestess of the Red Island,” Imen addressed her. “The high Priestesshood of the Red Island offers no magic cloak to the one who claims this title. No powerful sword is given. No perilous test of worthiness is taken. There is only this …” he said, motioning to Erasen, who promptly placed the ring, cut from a single ruby, into his hand.
“This ring is the symbol of your high Priestesshood. It has but one power: while you remain worthy and the rightful bearer of it, it will never slip off your hand. Should you ever commit an act that would prove you less than worthy to bear this ring, it would burn your finger as fire, until you would cast it away from you. Bear this ring well, and do not give yourself reason to remove it.” He then placed the ring on her finger. “By the ceremonial powers vested in me of the Ai, and according to the customs of the ancient Aihi, I hereby ordain you, Lady Las, now High Priestess of the Red Island.”
Las bowed, returning to her place directly across from Imen.
Dragonsphere (The Fallen King Chronicles Book 1) Page 15
