“Can you taste it? The river runs
with the blood of our enemies and our kin. With each drop we swallow, we take
in their strength, their essence. Every swallow is a promise. In return for
their nourishment we swear to honor their memories.” High Chief Vaaldosk raised
the wooden bowl above his head careful to not spill a single drop. The crowd of
onlookers filled the hillside. Hundreds of members of the Vike were able to see
the glare of the sun reflecting off the water.
Elda knelt in the damp sand of the
river bank gazing up at the Chief of all Chiefs. With the sun high in the air
on the other side of the river, the High Chief’s sillouette was imposing. His
scaled leather armor, fetishes, and cloth scarves made his shadow appear
larger. Elda wasn’t wearing any of the traditional clothes of the Vike. Instead
she had been wrapped from knees to elbows in the vibrant red cloth of an
initiate hunter.
The High Chief looked down at Elda,
his eyes almost glowing with the power of the spirits residing in his body.
“Merelda Blackstorm of the Far Crows, child of Andurlas Blackstorm and Mayda Firefist,
do you seek to honor the memories of the fallen?”
“Yes, the memories of the fallen are
honored in my mind.”
“You who would be a hunter, explorer of
the land, seeker of truth, and death to our enemies, do you have the soul of a
warrior?”
“Yes, the strength of the hunter resides
in my soul.”
“Daughter of the Vike, member of the
clan, scion of the future, would you renounce your family clan and claim blood
ties with all of our family?”
“Yes, the blood of the family flows
through my body.”
“Thrice sworn, mind, soul, and body. Drink
deep of the water of the fallen and be forever bound to their spirits.”
Vaaldosk slowly lowered the bowl until
it was two hands above Elda’s head. He closed his eyes and began whispering in
the language of the spirits. Elda tilted her head backwards and opened her
mouth. As his low chant reached a crescendo the High Chief poured the water
over her head in a steady stream.
Immediately Elda tasted the silt and
iron rich water of the River Grend. Every child in the clan would sneak a taste
as some point in their life to see if it really tasted like blood. Back then
when she had first tried it, she hadn't been able to taste anything but muddy
river water. Now, it seemed as though the water had been transformed into
something hard to describe; a cross between warm salty blood and cool
nourishing milk. As Elda swallowed her first mouthful the Chief raised the
bowl, allowing the water to splash across her face and run down onto the bright
red cloth wrapping. Elda couldn’t see herself but she had been to previous
hunter’s initiations when she was younger.
The water that ran into the cloth darkened
the fabric, changing it from a vibrant red into a deep crimson. Almost the same
color as arterial blood. This was symbolic in two ways. The ritual was both a
form of death, drenching oneself with blood, but also a rebirth, as a member of
the hunters, warriors with no clan.
The last drops of water spilled from the
bowl and Vaaldosk lowered his arms. The ritual was nearly complete.
“Bound now to the Vike, Far Crow no
longer, rise Merelda Blackstorm of the Hunters.” The final words. Elda lowered
her head and rocked back onto her heels. She blinked several times, clearing
the water from her eyes. The world seemed different somehow, brighter, sharper.
Slowly she rose to her full height,
nearly eye level with the High Chief. She dared to take another glance at the
shadowy figure with too bright eyes and was surprised. He was smiling. Vaaldosk
had been transformed into a kindly older man with wise crinkled eyes and a
toothy grin.
Suddenly Elda realized there was a noise
growing behind her, the start of a whooping cheer. The brand new hunter
initiate cautiously turned around and realized that the entire crowd of her
people standing on the hill had begun to cheer for her. The gathering was
moving, jumping and stomping, and beating their hands on armored plates. It was
impossible to find her parents in the throng but Elda swore she could hear her
father’s hollering loudest of all.
From behind her, “They welcome you to
the tribe Merelda, your family has grown much larger today.” The High Chief
placed a hand on her shoulder, and then with a loud whoop of his own punched
the other hand into the air.
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