This is the ritual that was known as the holy week, when the arm of God will choose to sweep over the nation to bring the monsoon. Every day, every priest walked outside to the highest point along the river, and looked west at the setting sun. Although the true orgin of this ritual is unknown, it is from scriptures and from oral tradition that the ancient upper class can predict when the monsoon, like the god they worshiped, will bring life and death in one fell swoop.
It was the holy week. For five days, the priest have marched himself and his diciples to the top of Mount Unda to greet the sun at noon. For five days they have sacrificed animals, chanted, and prayed to the God. For it is within this week that the will of God will be show across the sky. He watched, silent as the sun began the descent from the peak of the sky. In his hands he held a sculpture of a sea dragon, condemned to hold the earth above the fires of hill. He stood silent as his disciples chanted, sang, prayed to the lord as they have done for generations.
The priest watched the sun dip into the horizon to the west, its brilliant rays beaming between two distant hills. It flew over the landscape, and crossed the Holy River infront of him to disappear into the east. The arm of god had extended itself across the river five times already, and it had yet sent the image of the future. The Priest watched as the ray grew in brilliance as the center of the sun, the avatar of God, met the hill. He began to sign onto of the chanting of his fellow priest. A dash of incense billowed into the air as an oxen was sacrificed before the strongest ray shone forth. Everyone became silent as the animals death throes sullied the ground. Everyone except for the high priest.
His eyes raised directly into the beam as he shattered the sacrificial sculpture on the ground. He watched intently as the beam began to fade, the last look of the sun upon earth, matching the weakening right as the sun rose to its highest point.
He saw a glint of fog in the ray, a vision of lines: Rain! Once more they have assured life for the village below. He shouted a loud prayer, composure gone, as he thanked the lord. All his disciples aw his sign and chanted and sang their approval as well. Messangers quickly ran out as the sign spread from a giant fire. From the distance, more smoke rose to confirm the arrival of the sign.
It was a marvelous feast that night. With the sign of God, they can safely put in the watertight doors to the riverside homes before the flood arrives and live in the highland walled dormitories. It was a festive time as the last crate of seed is carried into the house and as the rains began. The sign, proof of Gods favor, had saved them just in time. All have heard the fate of those who never saw the signs and lost everything.
The High Priest smiled as he looked into the faces of the villagers from miles away.
Kettick has been saved again.