Name Day

Tales in the Life of Seven Devil Clever: Name Day
(Apologies in advance for crappy formatting"
“What if it’s like last time? You know? When her eyes turn white like that…” Seven Devil Spirit shivered, holding her newborn child close to her bosom. Her husband wrapped an arm around her, holding her tightly in the door of their thatched hut. Seven Devil Courage spoke with a soft voice, never without a hint of joviality, save just then.

“There are horrors in every life, love. We are not exempt, and neither are our boys. We shall deal with whatever life throws at us, and so must they. It is how we gain our names, and remember our duty.” Courage’s wife gave a sarcastic laugh.

“Difficult to protect Creation from abuse of power when you’re a slave, eh?” but at the look on her husband’s face, Spirit became serious too.

Seven Devil Courage looked worriedly out at the rapidly growing series of huts. Theirs was only one settlement in service to Lord Aur, the Outcaste Dragon Blood who’d led their ill-equipped forces to complete victory over a Guild mercenary army, guarding a slave storehouse of sorts. The people that had come out of that terrible fortress out on the plains were a weak and desolate people. They were a part of the Clan of Seven Devils now, which mattered little to them. The change in their spirit and health, though, had garnered a certain attachment to the clan.

Courage spoke his anxiety, “We are too few now for political intrigue and kingdom razing. I-“ and his wife put a finger to his lips.

“As you’ve said many times,” said Spirit, not unkindly. “I really do wish to follow the old ways, but sooner rather than later,” and she looked down at her newborn son, his soft blue eyes meeting hers boldly. She did not think she could wait for him to grow to manhood to resume her family’s duties. There may only be a dozen warriors left, but that did not mean that there should be no reconnaissance, no information gathering. There was no point in raising these old arguments. Spirit could only sigh, and gesture toward the path leading uphill to the house of their elder. The Elder, Seven Devil Sight.

Images came back to the parents as they stepped toward the old woman’s hut. They stepped up the path, happy and expectant of a great fortune for their first son. And they were not disappointed, at first. The woman was kind, but looked troubled from the moment they had stepped inside. She inspected the child happily, woman and baby interacting happily.

His name would be Seven Devil Strength, she said, and he would have that in abundance. Spirit and Courage smiled to one another at that, but when they looked back they could only stare, struck dumb. The woman’s normally deep violet eyes rolled back white, and she had spoken with a different voice then.

“Pain,” she had said from beneath a ragged hood, and in a ragged voice she continued her song of misery. “This one shall bear a load no man can bear. It shall break him; mind and soul. There will be no end to his misery, no end but death.”

And with that she came back, blinking rapidly and speaking as though nothing had happened. She looked almost apologetic, but unaware of the gravity of her own words.

“That is why we do not name the child until after the birth and the quickening, for it might overexcite the mother…” at that Seven Devil Courage had had to restrain his wife to prevent her from beating an old woman to death with her bare hands as her child watched.

He put an arm around her now, smiling reassuringly and whispering to her: “One step at a time, love. It’s only the rest of our lives…” and she couldn’t help but smile, stepping through the threshold.

Seven Devil Sight’s hut was adorned splendidly, but only with things the elder needed in her auguries, in her spirit questing. Symbolic items, little pieces from each member of the village, formed much of the clutter. Many of these items were highly personal, and only the elder and the item’s originator might know their story. A handmade doll here, a single broken snowshoe there, it would look quite comical to outsiders and indeed Lord Aur’s heaviest task was holding back snorts of laughter at his yearly visits for predictions for his kingdom. The village’s people, though, knew well to respect these items. The power they held was dangerous.

There was a clear area designated for child naming, however. A small nook separated from the rest of the poorly organized shelter contained a set of chairs, and a simple stone dais. Seven Devil Sight sat in a chair on one side of the table, while the parents sat on the other. The elder occupied her place, watching Spirit with a cautious and fearful eye. All fear left her though, at the sight of the babe.

“Ah, even more beautiful than the last! You are a blessed woman, child,” Seven Devil Spirit pursed her lips, inspecting her fingers impatiently at this prattle. Her husband smiled graciously, bowing lightly. The elder continued, examining the little boy thoroughly. “Ah, yes. He is Seven Devil Clever, this one!”

Seven Devil Spirit smiled broadly, “A hunter’s name, like his father!” she grasped her husband’s hand, looking intently at the little boy sitting up straight and staring the wizened woman directly in the eye. But then she noticed the elder’s eyes, and her heart skipped a beat as both parents gasped audibly.

The elder pulsed with invisible power. Her mouth worked, but no words came. Symbols flooded the minds of the young couple, and they could only observe with wrapt attention. Eventually, meaning came to them. The old woman’s voice sounded like an echo from a long distance. Her eyes glowed with a golden flame.

“Aye, like the father, but most unlike the father. His name shall be a misnomer, too. So was the father named a rebel, and turned a gatherer. So shall his son be named a gatherer, and rebel against all.” She cackled, a rather different personality than the one who read their last son’s fortune now sat before them. She did not look different save for her eyes, and yet Seven Devil Sight was obviously not herself.

“A slave born, and he shall die so. In service to his master, the greatest master. He shall transcend, that shall be his calling, his mark, his familiar: Transcendence. The fae-nix.” The old woman showed her crooked, opium stained teeth in a grin that looked wrong on her face.

“A grand destiny, this one’s name shall be written in the halls of legend. Halls not even our gods can imagine…” and she shook her head violently. The golden light seemed to fade, and the parents were left stunned, staring at the old woman sitting across them. Their child had barely stirred during this ordeal, looking into the old woman’s eyes still.

The old woman smiled broadly at the babe, kissing his forehead. “I am sorry, little one. Fate is cruel…” The babe only looked up at the old woman until his mother scooped him into her arms, turning and taking her son back down the path.

“Clever, my Clever one…” she smiled, cooing at her now named son. She showered him with kisses as her husband tried to wipe sweat from his brow, in spite of the early winter chill.