Sons of a Saint

Part 1

263 AD           

           Aapo walked through the sandy desert which he called home. He was far from his house, but he did not care. Whenever he had a decision like this to make, he liked to wander far from his house and let his mind rest, waiting for the Gods to gift him the wisdom for which he yearned. It never took them long.
           That was one thing which Aapo was thankful for in this life: the haste of the Gods. He was also thankful for his family and his village. He looked back toward his place of birth, the rudimentary stone locked together by expert craftsmanship to create impenetrable dwellings. He had helped to build his mother's new house after the one his father had built had fallen too much into disrepair. His father would have helped also, if he had not died six years earlier.
           The sun was floating high in the sky, raining down heat on Aapo's bare chest and shoulders. He flexed his muscular body and quickened his step. The Gods did not work slow, and neither should he. He took long strides through the sand as he questioned his decision. He had heard that his uncle had gone through the same process. He had never met his uncle. He did not know if his uncle was still alive.
           What was the benefit?
           That was the question which riddled his thoughts. He could find employment, good employment. The pain was what he worried most about. There was also the threat of death, both before and after. He would be protected by the Gods, he knew that, but the Gods could only offer so much protection. There was a boy in the village next to his who had gone through the procedure a year earlier and died only three months ago. Perhaps he did not have a strong belief. That would not be a problem for Aapo; he had as strong a belief as any.
           Aapo was only twenty-one years old but was already respected in his village as a great warrior. There were some who said the spirits of his father and uncle were inside of him. Aapo did not know about that. When the skies were clear, you could often see the village across the desert but today was too hot. The sand in the distance shimmered and ripple like water in the distance, obscuring anything behind it.
           There were no clouds in the sky, and a hawk circled overhead. As Aapo looked at the hawk, swirling in the wind, he fell into a fit. He convulsed and fell to the sand, jerking back and forth, kicking the sand into the air. The hawk watched from above, until the young man fell still, only the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest showing that he was still alive.
           When Aapo awoke, his heart was beating quickly in his chest. The Gods had gifted him a vision. He had seen himself winning a great battle. He had struck down numerous enemies, cutting through them with his wooden club. He had bathed himself in blood that day, feeling the coolness of it running down his face as he dispatched all of his enemies.
           He had died.
           No, he realized later. He had not died in that dream. He had been swept from his body and, for a moment, he thought that he had been struck by his enemy. It was only when he could see himself fighting that he knew he was not dead. Aapo, or the body of Aapo, swung his club in a fury, bashing in the head of the one who had dared run at him. The body of Aapo smiled, and the spirit of Aapo could see the shimmering in the smile. The spirit of Aapo smiled too.
           The experience had only just begun when it ended. Aapo was snapped back into his body as he swung his club into the shoulder of his enemy. He could hear the crunch of bone as he pulled back for another swing. The world rushed around him, and he was taken once again.
           Aapo woke, face-up in the sand. Above him, a hawk swirled before leaving him. Aapo thanked the Gods. He got up from the sand and dusted himself off. The sweat of his convulsions made the sand stick to his back, and he had to contort himself to wipe it. When he got home, he hugged and kissed his mother, telling her the good news. She smiled and nodded in complete understanding.
           "The Gods are good," she said.
           "The Gods are good," said Aapo. He went to sleep that night with a smile upon his face. He thought that he might dream of the Gods after the day he had had, but he did not. He did not dream of anything, only a great black nothingness. When he woke the next day, he was refreshed. He had a spirit inside of him, which had been renewed. He ate that morning with new vigor. Fabio watched his older brother and moved his hand to his mouth at the same time as Aapo did, copying his movements as much as he could. Aapo knew that his brother wanted to be like him when he grew up and hoped that he did not follow in his footsteps. Being a warrior was a good occupation but a dangerous one. Medicine would be better for Fabio, Aapo was sure of that.
           Aapo finished up and patted his little brother on his head. He would return soon, and everything would be different. The heat was already apparent when Aapo got outside. His mother had already gone to tend the field, and Aapo would have joined her if he did not have his reckoning today. Butterflies rose in his stomach, and he wiped his hand across his mouth. Aapo smiled.
           The walk from his home to Cadmael's home was a brisk one. Aapo's mother had told him that she would alert the medicine man of Aapo's coming that morning when the sun had risen past the top of the third hill. Aapo had no sooner got to the door of the stone house when he heard a voice boom from inside.
           "Come in," came the shout from the darkness within. The deep booming voice echoed around the entranceway, and Aapo did as he was told. There was a slight hallway, and then the home descended downwards into the earth. A dim light glowed and flickered from the steps which were carved into the stone itself.
           Aapo took the first step without hesitation and descended towards the light. When he got to the bottom of the stairs, he could see the familiar face of Cadmael, bathed orange in the glow of the candles. There were no windows down here, so the light had to be provided. Aapo had known Cadmael all of his life, first meeting him at the moment he had entered the world, though Aapo did not remember much of that day.
           Cadmael was the medicine man of the village, just as his father had been before him, and his father before him. He lived to help others, and bring them closer to the Gods. Cadmael was sixty years old, or a hundred years old, depending on who you talked to in the village. His skin was tough and leathery, stretched tight by the harsh rays of the sun, but lightened by his time deep within the earth. There were some who said that he could converse with the Earth, depending on who in the village you spoke with.
           While Cadmael had a deft and gentle touch, he towered above everyone. He would have been a fearsome warrior if he had decided to take up the cause. Aapo could remember the time he had visited Cadmael as a seven-year-old. He had thrown up for days, and nothing could stop it. Cadmael had given him some herbs, sent him to bed,  Aapo had woken up the next day feeling better than he ever had before.
           Cadmael motioned to the chair-shaped rock in the middle of the room, and Aapo sat down, wondering if Cadmael had carved it from the rock itself. The coldness of the stone comforted Aapo as he rested his back against it. Cadmael stood over Aapo with a deep, smile. He nodded, and this put Aapo further at ease.
           Aapo had never known whether he should converse with the man of mysticism and usually kept quiet until he was asked a question. Cadmael did not speak, but he did hold up the green jewels in his hand and presented them to Aapo. Aapo nodded and did not know why. Seeing the jewels made it all the more real, and the sweat began to rise on his forehead.
           Cadmael lit a candle. This one burned with a black flame which gave out a fragrant aroma. It smelled of wood, sand, and death. Cadmael walked in a swooping circle around the room and waved the candle in, the air, sending smoke into all corners of the underground cave, the fragrance intensifying as he did so. Aapo breathed in the smoke and felt more at peace. Cadmael placed the candle on a small table close to the rock Aapo was sitting on. The smoke was filling the room, or maybe Aapo only imagined it?
           Cadmael went back to a corner of the room where Aapo was only just noticing that there were small containers of herbs and spices. Cadmael opened them one at a time, taking a pinch from the container, and adding it to a small stone bowl. Each time he opened a container, Aapo could smell the rich aroma. It was intoxicating. When Cadmael had added all of the ingredients to the stone bowl, he picked up a rounded stone and began to crush the herbs against the sides of the bowl. He swirled the stone around the bowl, creating a scratching noise which came in waves. Aapo watched the medicine man incant something in a low mutter. Aapo wanted to lean forward to hear better what Cadmael was saying but dared not.
           "Chew on this," said Cadmael. He scooped up the mush of herbs with two fingers and his thumb and passed it to Aapo. Aapo reached out and took the herbs, smelling them before putting them into his mouth. He chewed on the green medicine, and the flavors were all released as one. He was sure that he could pick out the individual flavors even as they escaped from him, time after time. He knew what he was tasting and did not know at the same time. The herbs were bitter and sharp tasting. Aapo did not want to be chewing on them but did as he was told.
           Cadmael held up a pointed stone, and Aapo could have sworn that he could see it glinting in the dim candlelight. He looked up to the dirt ceiling and wished for the Gods to take him from here. He quickly changed his prayer and asked for their strength. What would become of him if they actually answered and swept him from this place? He would have nowhere to go, nowhere forever.
           It is a moment of pain, a teardrop in the river. That was what his mother had told him last night. Aapo tried to cling to it for comfort, but it only served to remind him that there would be a pain. Aapo reached a hand up to his mouth and prodded at it. His lips felt numb, and he smiled a goofy smile which drooped at the corner. He wanted to laugh at his current predicament but did not want to offend Cadmael or the Gods. The side effects of the herbs comforted him more than the power of the Gods, prodding at his own mortality and the human obsession with death and pain.           
           In the corner, Cadmael was staring at Aapo with intent. He stood there until Aapo nodded, letting him in. Cadmael walked forward and waved a hand over Aapo's face before pulling his lower jaw down to open the mouth as wide as it would go. Cadmael took a step and placed his hand in front of his face, palm facing outward and back of his hand to his forehead. He chanted something which Aapo did not understand. Aapo lay back in his chair, letting his head fall against the cold stone, the stone which got colder and colder as the time passed.
           Cadmael was in front of his face again, with the sharpened stone in his hand. Aapo was not as afraid of it this time. Aapo opened his mouth as wide as he could and kept his eyes open; he wanted to see as much as he could, not that he would be able to see much. Cadmael pressed the stone against Aapo's front tooth and twisted it to mark out the point. Aapo felt the sensation, but it was removed from his body.
           Cadmael pressed the stone firmly on the tooth, using the mark for guidance, and scraped at the hard enamel. Aapo did not like the sensation, but it was not uncomfortable either. Cadmael scraped and scraped, chipping pieces of tooth from Aapo's mouth. When the first tooth had been prepared, Cadmael took a pointed stick and dipped it in tree sap. He carefully filled the hole with the sap, and placed a green jewel on top, pressing it into the tooth, and holding it there. The excess sap was removed from around the jewel, when it had dried enough.
           Four more teeth were filled in the same way when the pain struck Aapo like a bolt of lightning from above. The pain shot into his head, down through his teeth, into his heart, and out through his legs. Aapo convulsed as Cadmael held him down with one hand, and grabbed at his medicine with the other. Cadmael pressed a concoction into the hole on the tooth and held it there. The pain began to subside.
           "This will hurt," said Cadmael. Aapo was too anxious and afraid to respond. Cadmael pulled a copper tool from beside him. It had two bent prongs at the top. He placed it on Aapo's chest. A sharp knife was lifted next, followed by a dull stone. Cadmael looked Aapo straight in the eyes. He pushed Aapo's mouth open and quickly cut his gum. As Aapo was about to cry out, Cadmael struck the tooth with the rock, knocking the wind, and any scream of pain, from Aapo. Cadmael picked up the copper tool from Aapo's chest, thrust it into his mouth, hooked the tooth, twisted, and yanked the tooth clean from Aapo's mouth.
           Aapo cried out in pain as the blood flowed into his mouth. He had died and come back to life just to experience the pain of death all over again. The iron in the blood tasted bitter, and he wanted to spit it out. Cadmael placed a fresh bunch of herbs into Aapo's mouth.
           "Bite down," said Cadmael. Aapo did so but found no relief. The tears streamed from his eyes and ran down his cheeks.
           "Your father had a tooth removed too," said Cadmael. "This is good luck." Aapo did not feel that it was good luck and prayed to the Gods to take this pain away as quickly as they could. It would not lave him for three days, which he realized was his punishment for asking too much from the Gods.
           Once he was calmer, Cadmael continued, and filled three more teeth. When he was done, Aapo pushed his tongue over the gems now embedded in his teeth and into the hole where a tooth once was, the blood now clotted and black. Aapo was shaking from the ordeal. He was a real warrior now, protected by the Gods, but still a mortal; still close to death. The pain had reminded him of that.
           Aapo emerged from the dark cave, blinking into the bright sunlight. Just as Cadmael had been there on the day of his birth, he had been there on the day of Aapo's rebirth.