The Sacrifice

Chapter 2-4

“I think this is it, sir.” Oisin looked at the bowl in front of him.

“Try it and see, then,” said Bel, standing by the door, looking intently at Oisin.

Oisin nodded and dipped his fingers in the bowl. He closed his eyes, dabbing each lid lightly, then opened them again. He looked up at Bel and gasped softly. The tall god had been backed by a blurry glow of indistinct light and shadow, but now he was wrapped in a glorious corona of shimmering silver light, twisted with deep shadows that held blood-red hearts. Light and dark formed an intricate pattern that haloed his head and fanned out behind him like angel’s wings.

“You’re beautiful,” said Oisin breathlessly, without even thinking.

Bel laughed, and Oisin, realizing what he’d said, put his hands over his mouth with a little squeak of dismay. Another chorus of laughter followed, not from Bel, but from the sprites that suddenly fluttered in the air all around him. They were finally revealed in every minute detail, as tiny people with translucent dragonfly wings. Some seemed to be clad in leaves and grass, while others wore filmy cloaks of gossamer, and many were utterly naked. They were sexless creatures, somewhere between male and female, and each glowed with light in red, green, gold, or blue.

“Does the mortal child think us beautiful as well?” asked one, a little green creature that fluttered before Oisin’s face. Its long hair floated around it, and it pirouetted in front of him, then gave a little bow.

“You are, yes,” he said.

“You can hear them as well?” said Bel, his eyebrows raised in faint surprise.

“Yes. I’ve been sort of almost hearing them since I tried the first ointment.”

“Interesting.”

“You say that a lot, sir.” Oisin thought better of that almost as soon as he’d said it, but Bel only laughed again.

“So I do! You are much more interesting than I expected you to be when I accepted you as my sacrifice. You seem to have great power, far more than I had expected. I think it is time you told me more of yourself.” Bel seated himself on the bed, then patted it beside him. “Come, sit, and speak to me. What manner of upbringing has resulted in such power, focus, and meticulous care as you seem to have?”

Oisin sat beside Bel, feeling confused. “There’s nothing unusual in my upbringing, sir. All I ever did was help out around the farm and in the kitchen, and aid with running errands and tending children and such.”

“You are not the eldest in your family, I presume?”

“No sir. I’m the youngest.”

“Of how many?”

“I’ve six elder sisters and four elder brothers, sir.”

“Hmm. All living?”

Oisin blinked. “Yes, sir.”

“And what of those who passed on? Did you have other brothers?”

“Uhm. I think so. My father didn’t talk about it much. My mother…was gone. She…She died birthing me, so I was the last. My oldest brother said something once about the little ones that had gone, though. I think there were two other brothers?”

Bel nodded. “Then all is clear. If you had six elder brothers, you are a seventh son. Which in and of itself has some power. And your father…Did he come from a large family also? Do you have many uncles?”

“He moved from another village to live with my mother, so I don’t know, but I think…I think he had a family a lot like the one he grew up in. So I think so?”

“I suspect were I to speak with him, I might find that he too was a seventh son. And the seventh son of a seventh son is a thing of great power indeed.”

“Oh.”

“You say that a lot, my little deer.”

Oisin flushed. “Sorry? I don’t know what else to say.”

“You have no need to apologize. In truth, you are doing very well here. Many have descended into confusion and madness rather than accept such a different life than what they’ve known. You have proved very adaptable, and that is a good trait. It seems to be but one among many, too.” He smiled warmly at Oisin. “That you are the seventh son of a seventh son and gifted with great magic is a literal accident of birth. But that you have succeeded at this spell is not because of your power. I set you this task fully expecting you to fail, I merely wished to see in what way, and how soon.”

As Oisin gaped at him, Bel continued. “Most novices grow weary of making the same potion over and over. They give up after only a few tries. Many of those who persevere take days—or weeks!—to realize that they must measure meticulously and take careful notes, else they’ll keep repeating the same mistakes. Many, even once I’ve pointed out why they continue to fail, simply do not have the temperament to do all these things every single time, and thus become sloppy and fail. You sent for the scale and the paper immediately, without needing prompting. You needed only the barest explanation of the one thing the book omits entirely to figure out how to imbue the ointment with power. You have produced your first completed spell in barely a day, and that is a feat many experienced mages might struggle to duplicate. You have done astonishingly well, and none of that was by accident. I called you my apprentice somewhat in jest, yet I think there is much truth in it. You bear the potential for greatness.”

“I…I hardly know what to say, sir.”

“You don’t need to say anything. Only continue to be who you are, my little deer, and you will do very well.”