Nightclans by Gerard Bond Page A

fur boots that traveled halfway up his calves. He had a staff with a small fire burning at the top and held it forward as he began to speak, his voice bellowing out into the still night air,
    “In ages past the clans walked this land taking what it needed and bleeding into the soil in return. We took furs from the animals to protect us from the cold. We ate their flesh to fill our bellies, we sharpened their bones to protect us from the dangers of the wilds.” Ironside paused looking around with a scowl before going on, “The plants and trees gave of themselves so that we may make implements to gain ascendency over all those creatures that would see us perish, animal and man alike have all tried through the ages but we have always prevailed.” Again he paused looking around scowling, “But there is a price we must all pay in return, we must all pay with our flesh, we must all pay with our lives. It has always been our way and with the gods good graces it shall always be so.”
    A murmur started up as the crowd chanted quietly at first, it was no more than a sort of humming as Ironside continued on.
    “Today we repay the world with another life, we repay our debts to this land, the creatures rejoice and we lament the passing of one so young.” He paused, scowled and continued, “We will not fall down in torment, we will not quake in misery nor shall will recoil in fear. For we know Bradan resides with the gods!”
    There was a crescendo of chanting and then a cheer as Ironside raised his burning staff overhead. The crowd raised their arms too pumping at the night sky and they all started swaying as they continued humming. Wollfen watched on engrossed by the spectacle, no funeral was ever like this back in the Kingdom. Finally Ironside turned back to the altar and Wollfen noticed that while it was empty before, the body of Bradan now lay upon it. He hadn’t noticed it being placed there. Six young girls wearing  loincloths and leather strapping on their arms that held some feathers. They were stroking amulets hanging around their necks, using both hands. It was curious seeing them standing there almost naked, none of them were more than twenty years old. Ironside lifted his arms high into the air facing towards Bradan and beseeched the gods,
    “Hear our call gods of this world! Take our bravest and strongest that you may give him a just existence in the afterlife!”
    He looked down, lifted an ornate jug and then started pouring some sort of liquid over Bradan's body, it was only then Wollfen noticed that  Bradan was also in a loincloth. The six girls leaned forward and begun rubbing the body all over, coating him in the liquid. They didn’t stop but kept rubbing and caressing for awhile. Finally they did stop and four of the girls changed position, two at one end and two at the other. Wollfen saw that Bradan was on a stretcher, the four girls lifted him up to shoulder height and started moving towards the crowd.
    The people parted down the middle as the stretcher approached and the crowd mingled around the edges. They all began reaching out and rubbing their hands on Bradan as he went past. Wollfen looked at Raven questioningly wondering at the significance and she spoke up quietly,
    “They will all feel the coldness of his dead body and know that he has passed but also this last touch is what they will carry with them, it helps to remember him in the years ahead. They will also smell the oil too so they now have three senses with which to remember him by.” Wollfen nodded in new understanding, it certainly was a curious act but he could see why it was done.
    Ironside took up position behind the procession holding the staff up high in front of him as they moved along slowly. The crowd were all touching and as the stretcher moved past Wollfen and Raven both reached out and placed a hand on the body, he had never done anything like this before and it became clear he would never forget it. The girls carried the body