The dark happenings at the Sundrawing

[Nithi Kirenion]

I.

In the Bowl of Uolrhaphen, that great amphitheater of a valley just outside the old capital of Cimmeria, stood nine young men, drawing down the sun.

It was a ritual older than history, older than myth. Nine fifteen year old boys, usually the sons of the chieftains and shamans and other worthies of the island, would leave their tribes and journey to Uolrhaphen. They would stay there for a year, with the priests and with each other, studying and living together. Then, the last day of summer, they would come to this place and draw the sun down through them, deep into the earth, to warm and sustain it through the cold northern winter ahead.

The ritual had fallen into disuse over the centuries, as hardier strains of seed from the mainland and Hyperborean technology had taken some of the dread out of the winter months, and as the tribes settled down into cities and provinces. Its rescue from the depths of obscurity was due to the peculiar genius of Rhaji Pekarumbion, one of the first Hyperborean governors of this region. He had seen through its stated purpose - all the superstitious claptrap about sun gods and the like - to determine the real role the Ritual of the Sundrawing held in early Cimmerian society. The nine most influential young men of the islands, the future clan chieftains, all spent a year locked up together. They would replace their old family name with their new title: Sundrawer. Far better that they knew each other as brothers, friends, even lovers, than that fear and ignorance ruled their dealings with their far-off neighbors. The Sundrawing had been the key to limiting the endless clan feuds and cattle raids that had spilt so much Cimmerian blood, and for the past century, so it was again.

With certain differences. The human sacrifices, of course, were right out. A few of the Sundrawers were still chosen by their nobility, but other spots were reserved for children who did exceptionally well in school, or won at other competitions. For the past few decades, around half had been from the islands large Hyperborean minority. If future Hyperborean leaders and future Cimmerian leaders could be socialized together from a young age, perhaps the ethnic tension that had made the island chain a powderkeg these past few years could be done away with. It was such a Hyperborean solution to a problem that it was astounding to think the Cimmerians had been drawing down the sun since before Tala had even been founded.

The spectators. They, too, were different. No longer was the ritual performed alone, in a dark glen. Now the whole Bowl of Uolrhaphen waS lined with spectators; officials and foreign dignitaries surrounding the enneagon at the dale's center slowly transitioning to hordes of everyday Uolrhaphelin who had taken advantage of the fine Vivantiaday weather to get out into the country and witness a cultural spectacle. Most had set out picnic blankets. A few were working on their laptops, looking down at the ritual only when it looked like something particularly interesting would be happening.

Now was one of those times. The nine youths, who had been standing since morning, intoning various chants and occasionally moving through complicated choreiform motions, all stood erect and faced the center of the enneagram. A shaman moving counterclockwise anointed each, in turn, with sea water; a second shaman, moving clockwise, did the same with salt.

The nine youths, as one, stepped into the center of the enneagram.

They linked hands.

The sun came down.

It came in a blinding flash of light, with a rush of wind. It came in golden fire and searing heat. It came in smoke and panic and screams and flying limbs and blood.

This had never happened before.

II.

Emmet Sundrawer had been convalescing in his bed in Uolrhaphen Hospital, playing video games and feeling generally sorry for himself. He expected the world had forgotten about him. He did not expect three uniformed and heavily armed soldiers in the garb of the Hyperborean Paladins, Fern Division, to come bursting through the door.

"Aphos amesdo," said one, with a clear look of relief on his helmeted face. Emmet, like most of his Sundrawer colleagues, wasn't great at Hyperborean, but he was good enough. He's alive. And the tense, unless Emmet missed his mark, carried an unspoken "...for now".

"What's going on?"

Emmet should have been out there in the Bowl of Uolrhaphen with the others. He'd placed second on his year's aptitude test and been chosen as a Sundrawer. He'd studied for a year, all the chants and the hand motions and the old myths. And then he'd fallen sick with pneumonia just a few days before the ritual. No problem for them, they'd trained alternates against just such a possibility. For him, on the other hand, it meant he'd lost the chance of a lifetime. The Sundrawer name opened doors in Cimmeria; he could have gotten any job he wanted after school. Now, he wasn't even sure he'd be allowed to keep it.

"Terrorist attack," said one of the Paladins, the big one. "Someone bombed the Sundrawing. All nine Sundrawers are dead, along with the Mayor of Uolrhaphen and several dozen spectators. We've been sent here to make sure whoever's behind it doesn't try anything against you."

Emmet's blood ran cold. "Who would do such a thing?"

The Paladins looked at each other, as if deciding whether to trust him with such information, and then one spoke. Emmet realized to his surprise it was a woman's voice. "No one knows. But we've heard rumors that one of the participants in the ritual twenty years ago, an Otter Sundrawer, is preparing some kind of resistance group against Hyperborean governance. The Babkhi in the Elwynn Free State are supposed to be in on it for some reason. This is their work, you mark my words."

She took off her helmet. "Chances are we'll be seeing a lot of one another in the next few weeks. I'm Zahe Likrasion." He shook her hand.

"Medgi Ana Terion," said the big man, and shook Emmet's hand also.

"Toli Arion," said the smaller man, and another handshake.

"Emmet Sundrawer," said Emmet. He supposed the title was his now, for better or worse. "And...I'm stuck in bed right now, but when I get better, you need to tell me how to join your army."

The three Hyperboreans looked at each other, passing around unspoken thoughts.

"You probably don't know," said Emmet. "When we first came together, my brothers and I, we had to swear an oath. That if anyone committed violence against a Sundrawer before the ritual was over, the revenge would fall to all of us. I don't think your people took it seriously. I did."

Megdi, the big Hyperborean, thought for a second. "The fort is a few blocks down from here. I will talk to your doctors, see how long it will be before you can be discharged. We have much work ahead of us."

[Ari Rahikkala]

And here I was thinking they'd just been doing it wrong with all those human sacrifices and stuff, and that you needed to have distracted laptop users there for the ritual to really work :P