Legends of Belariath

Sinja{Bara}

The Rite of the Sheykan Warrior

The sage warriors of the tribe nodded amongst themselves as they stood looking at a particularly large tree, a defined fork splitting the top into two slightly thinner branches, representing the great grasslands hawk's nest, the animal from which many of the values of the people came from. The feathers of the hawk would later be used by the Shaman to bring healing magics upon the warriors wounds.

”It is perfect for the ceremony..strong and forked..it will be the center pole of the lodge to be built for the Rite..” MoonHawke spoke with a certain arrogance, knowing his first son would be performing the ancient ritual in the festivities to come. The warriors called for the shaman to come to the tree, blessing it as it fell. The tree then represented the fallen warrior that the young men and one woman would one day bring down themselves to conquer. The felled tree was cleared by the elder matrons of the tribe..dressed in elaborate and ornate ceremonial gowns then stripped the tree of its branches. The pole is then placed in the center of the village..laid upon its side and readied to be the support of the lodge.

The next morning the participants would charge the pole with arrows and hammers and a few with swords, mock attacking the tree as if it were the enemy, chanting and dancing about the pole in a warrior's frenzy. The pole is then raised among a flourish of chants and whoops..the pole now representing the people themselves lifting to the heavens above...connecting the tribe with Wannkan the Creator. Next, the warriors that were performing the rite gathered together to construct the lodge.

Sinja was there, as was her childhood playmate Shinok, one of the more sought after young warriors in the village...yet he had never seemed more than a brother to her, and even now he stood across the circle and winked at her as she stuck her tongue out at him, both of them receiving stern looks from the Shaman for not taking the rite more serious.

The lodge of the rite built, the head of a plains ox, then animal the people followed on its migration across the plains, was placed at the flapped door which faced towards the west(in Earthen terms). This was to pay homage and respect for the beast that the whole tribes welfare revolved around. The warriors had been fasting since the tree had been felled, and tonight they would meditate and ask for the coming of their protector spirit, though the guardian spirit may not choose this time to come to the warrior to be.

And so Sinja and the three other sons of the warriors of the camp knelt in the four corners of the directions of the support poles..each one representing a different direction of the plains. And for the entire night the young ones were kept awake by the dancing and the chanting of the tribe outside the lodge,the soft stomping of moccasined feet slapping the softly beaten grass. With her eyes closed, Sinja felt the weariness seeping into her body, and her stomach tightened and ached with lack of food. Soon her mind dizzied and images from her past seemed to pass through her thoughts in high speed as her entire young life flashed before her closed eyes. And as her lids remained tightly closed, the image of two glowing eyes appeared, as if watching her and protecting her..they were there when her mother had died and when she had asked her father to train to be a warrior.

Her father was the chief, and with no son he had doted and spoiled and allowed her anything she had wished for, and she had shown promise as a warrior. Often the trials of those that chose this path can be grueling, but she did not back down when she lost..the lessons only pushing her harder to make her father proud of the son he never had. And she was the fastest one in the village..young or old. And as her life flashed by, she thought to what she could be and how she could win honor and valour for her tribe..she thought of the many braids she would earn for her legendary coups of their enemies.

And as the visions seemed to be of the future..so real..so alive, they came through the site of the feral eyes..as if they were hers..knowing who this site now belonged too. She blinked, sweating and panting hard from the visions, her deep violet eyes opened wide now as the vision came back in full. She almost bolted but as she looked to the shaman kneeling at the door in prayer to the great gods, she caught a look...a look that told her he knew what she had seen and that it had not been good for the people of her tribe. But there was a hope in her visions, a man not of the Sheyka who would come and destroy their enemy. He had been overwhelming in her vision and the name Titok came into her mind. But for now, the vision would have to wait for the time of the rite was now, and even in her young years she knew everything had its own time and it was not the way of her people to rush things.

As the yellow and pink rays of the rising sun reached out across the sky, fingers lifting the flame of the light of day, the warriors were lifted from their positions, each one having experienced something different. And each vision had a place in both the warriors life and an intricate fiber in the overall pattern of the whole tribal weave. They were led to their positions and each one was assigned one of the shamans assistants. They were there to watch the warriors health and tend to them after the rite, as well as gather knowledge in the tribes past and future.

Each of the warriors was then shown a rather long bone and the sharp bone needles..the cleansed and blessed sinew were brought forth . The shamans ran a sharp obsidian knife along the center of the warriors chest and the sand washed bones were inserted into the flesh of the warriors chest, the sharp bone needle piercing their skins and drawing the sinew in criss crossing patterns to bind the bone to their bodies. A leather rope was then attached to the bone and led to tie tightly to the pole..the breaking of the flesh the only thing that would release the bone. The rite was one of spiritual and physical sacrifice by the warrior, the ritual grueling and painful.

As the day wore on, the taut leather pulled and tugged on the bone imbedded in the dark, firm flesh of the warriors, each warrior dancing about the center pole they were all attached to separately. There were three more besides Sinja: her best friend Shinok, a rather hefty warrior named Tineek, and the son of MoonHawke, Jantool. Each of them would soon take a name of their warrior selves, for these names were names of the childhood, and children they were no longer.

As the hours passed and the warriors danced in a tiresome dazed like state, minds numbed and bodies torn beyond pain and weariness..they continued on..dancing and chanting, feeling the strength of the tribe outside lending itself to each warriors reserve, until each warrior's flesh gave way to the tension of the leather rope, tearing and jerking their flesh from their bodies. The apprentices assigned to each warrior then led the warriors to a bed of sage grass and rubbed their gaping wounds with an aesthetic salve to keep the young ones from getting infection. Then the shaman went to each warrior individually, blessing them and then settling healing hands over the gash along their chests, healing the broken skin and muscles, leaving only a thin white line that was the scar the warrior would carry forever.

The dance was not over until the last warrior was released from the leather rope that tethered them to the ceremonial pole that was the foundation of the teeja. They were then allowed to rest for a few hours as the rest of the village

And when the last one was ripped from the pole, the feasting and celebrations began. And these would last for four days..one for each of the warriors to undergo the ancient ritual to pass into the rite of the Sheykan warrior. And as Sinja went to bed, her head swarmed with the things that had passed by in the five passings of the sun and moon, and she reflected her new name of Stalking Wolf, and also of the great warrior she had seen in her dreams..the man she would one day hate and then love. She knew she could not stop the wheel of fate that traveled endlessly and could only live day to day and accept what was and what was to be.

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