Nail put his hand to the sky, blocking the sun as it arched towards the western horizon, which just so happened to be the path he needed to take. The youth of Village Nev'ca marched down the street; a slice of his mother's famous Naming Day pie sat in his stomach as one of the few things his nerves had let him keep down that day. Along the street, which would have normally been crowded with people, on either side, were the villagers. They had all lined up to see him take his final stroll. Each stride he took was met with a torch being lit; the distance between each torch quickly outpaced the distance between each step he took, so the path was flooded by artificial light. It helped because in the time it took Nail to go from the beginning of the main street, near a cliff that dropped off into the ocean, to the door of the elder's hut, the sun set.

The dust had finally settled from the day's activities, letting him see that the sky was alight with stars that seemed to cheer him on. The moon rose directly behind him, shining a spotlight, first on him, then on the door to the elder's hut.

Every step he took caused more heads to turn away. The only ones who watched him the whole way were the children. His friends, Analise, Beathan, and Grannd were all there. Analise and Grannd made gestures to cheer him on, and Beathan had give him a smile and a nod before he had turned away. Every time he got to within ten paces of an adult, no matter their status or rank, they turned away. They did not yet know this stranger who walked among them. He was an unnamed young man, but soon they would know him and he them. He would be named.

His sword bounced on his hip as he stepped with purpose towards his final childhood rite. The nerves that had kept him from eating almost anything that day, were fighting to push him to his knees. Something had, for a time, deeply terrified Nail. A piece of the rituals that were to take place that night. Every time he had seen one of his brothers or friends take the oaths, it was like watching them drown. The fear, the horror, the sorrow, all attacked him then just as they threatened to make him turn and flee that night. He gripped his sword's hilt with white knuckles and fell into a thought-less march to unburden his mind of the need to think about the steps. He fought and won against the negative emotions. This was tradition and tradition would be upheld or he would die upholding it.

Before him stood the elder's hut. One of the most formidable buildings in the administrative district, the elder's hut stood almost three times as high as Nail did, and he was rather tall for his age. The width was about half that of the library but the inside was split into three chambers that Nail knew of. The south chamber was the chamber of men, where the elder men discussed the day-to-day running of the village. A chamber lay on the north side to house the women. Nail's mother would never tell him anything about what the women discussed in the chambers. If Nail had to guess he would assume they discussed life-pairings, playing match-maker with the girls and boys of the village. The final chamber, and the only one Nail had been in before, was the center chamber. It was there that every kind of life ceremony took place. It was where the babies were dedicated to the gods, or sacrificed if the need arose, and it was also where last rites took place for the dead. The last time Nail had attended a ceremony there was his grandfather's funeral.

Elder Rory and Elder Sawney were the last to turn their back on Nail as he made his final approach. Surrounded by a collection of both female and male elders Nail entered the building. Every member of his family, his mother's family, and his father's family, were allowed in to witness the Naming Oaths. Nail knew that they would be just behind the pod of elders that surrounded him. Nail stopped his walk just outside the central chambers. There the boy knelt down and unattached his scabbard from his waist and placed it parallel with the opening of the door to say his first oath. "Elders," the men and women that had progressed into the room turned back to face him, "I lay down my sword, the tool of my childhood trade, and seek admittance. I wish to come before you all and say the oaths of my father, his father, and his fathers before him." Nail lowered his eyes, his knees aching from the awkward position on the wooden plank flooring that led into the holy place.

"Who calls this child a man?" Elder Rory demanded of the crowd. Nail needed three witnesses, according to the rite.

"I do," His father, the Blacksmith Hermod, made one. Nail breathed a silent prayer of thanks that his father had been the first to witness him. Part of claiming the manhood or womanhood of a youth was turning to see them again. That bodily motion said that you were claiming them as part of your village.

"I do," Kenna, Nail's mother, made two. But Nail began to pray to Thor for strength. He had a few ideas as to who the third would be but the voice that came still surprised him.

"I do," Berryman Jeremy made three. Did that count? The berryman was not a named member of the village, he was technically a stranger.

The youth always needed three members of the village to raise him up. Not one, to avoid a prideful father. Not two to avoid nepotism. But not more than three to avoid a conspiracy intended to embarrass the parents. Nail did not move.

"I do." Sergeant Marcas made four. The man had known Nail during his time in the village guard. He had believed Nail when the boy had told him why he had been assigned to the guard as a punishment.

"With three of our people, and the voice of a stranger known, you may rise, Nail son of Hermod." Elder Sawney said.

"Thank you." Nail stood to his feet and looked around. The eyes of all the village rested on him now. He had been vouched for and they could see him, preliminarily as one of their own. His eyes rested on the center stone on which was a single cushion for him to rest on. Around the stone to the south sat the council, five men and six women. There would have normally been six of each, but Nail's father was not allowed to judge his son's ascension. This was an often occurrence, and much of the village actually preferred when this happened because it meant there would not be a tie that needed to be broken by the berryman.

As the only official representative of Rome in the village, the berryman had a very liminal position. Nail found that he was respected and people did not treat him like a strange merchant, but he was not given a vote in matters of the village, nor was he allowed in the chamber of men like all village men were. However, like tonight, when the whole council met for something he stood watch over the ceremony ready to break a tie with the authority of the Caesar, until he comes again.

Everyone took to their place. The elders sat in an arc to his south, in front of him; all his family sat in another arc to his north, behind him; and the berryman stood by the door, to his left. Nail took his place at the center on the cushion. The elders were all dressed in ceremonial robes that looked funny on them. The captain of the guard had muscles so built that the ceremonial garb had to be modified to fit his giant biceps. A lanky woman, Janis the weaver's wife, was so thin the brown robes almost fell off her. Everyone else was somewhere between the two. He had seen each of them in their daily attire and it made the contrast even more stark. His family had all showed up in the attire of their trades. His father in his apron, his uncle in his gambeson, and his aunt's husband in the leather he wore while working to repair rooftops. The berryman wore a long brown cloak. That was the only strange thing. Nail had worked with the berryman as a child and knew that was not what he wore while picking berries. Just one more liminal aspect to the mysterious man.

Nail's legs ached as he knelt on the cushion, before the elders. "Why have you come before us, Nail son of Hermod?" they asked in unison.

"To swear the oaths and become named by the village," Nail said.

"Are you prepared to leave behind all the honor and duty of a child?" Elder Lili asked.

"To embrace the empire for whose return we wait?" Elder Rory asked.

"To be ready at a moment's call to take the sword and defend the peace of our people?" Elder Sawney asked.

"Pax Caledonii ad Aeternum." The unified voice of everyone in the building spoke, even the berryman.

"I am," Nail said.

"Then begin," the unified voice of the council entreated him.

Nail spent the next twenty minutes reciting the whole of the Pax Romana et Caledoniae. First in his native tongue of Gaelic, then in Latin. As he neared the end of the Latin form his heart began to race and his palms sweat. He clenched his hands at his side and gritted his teeth to try to fend off the pain. It was odd, before the fear had only made him sick, but now the fear seemed to physically pain him. It stabbed at his legs, his backside, his spine, and even his head.

He opened his mouth to begin the final oath, the Never'Cane oath, from where the village got its name. Nail could not force the first word out. Swallowing a scream, he clenched his mouth shut and doubled over in pain.

The elders exchanged whispered comments at the sight. This was odd, not unheard of, but rare. Some young women in recent years had experienced a great deal of pain at the oaths, but they still got them out. Nail stopped trying to force the word out and sat up on his knees again. His face burned with embarrassment and shame. Opening his mouth again he couldn't stop the scream. It was a sound born of desperation, anger, fear, and despair. If he could not say the words, if he could not swear the oath, he would be cast out of the village, left to the mercies of the forests and Fae.

Another voice outside the elder's hut cried out too. He wondered for a moment if someone outside was mourning his pain, was it the Cobbler's daughter? They had talked several times about courting one another when they had both taken the oaths. He could imagine her pain if she had to turn her back on him. Another voice cried out and Nail wondered what was going on. His own voice quieted as he dipped his chin to his chest, praying for strength. Odin, he thought, give me your will, give me your power. Nail raised his eyes to the ceiling just in time to watch it explode.

Stars filled the space between the flames. The crowd gathered in the council chamber scattered. Nail rolled to one side as another flaming ball of stone crashed into the central stone where he had just been kneeling. The boy scrabbled to his feet and ignored the screams of those around him. Instead he went for his sword and ran outside. He was quickly followed by several men. Others stayed behind to tend to the injured and the women. A few of the women ran to the women's chambers and reappeared a moment later with quivers of arrows and bows.

Nail followed the captain of the guard out of the elder's hut and onto the streets of Nev'ca. Several thatched roofs had caught fire and others were being set alight. The crowd that had gathered to witness Nail's ascension had been routed by the attackers. A few of the guardsmen had gathered into a semblance of a defensive line. The battle was raging near the treeline where Nail saw men on both sides clashing swords, thrusting spears, banging shields, losing blood, dying, and killing.

The still unnamed boy ran into the fray.

An attacker had broken through the fighting and was cutting down innocent villagers. Nail watched him cut the head off of his friend, Beathan, who had only a dagger for his defense. Analise was nearby and screamed as she watched their friend's lifeless body collapse. She cried out again when the attacker, a hulking man wielding two swords, wearing a gambeson with livery that Nail did not recognize, turned to march in her direction.

Nail called out, "Run!" He ran to get in the way of the attacker and caught one of the monster's swords with his own. He had to jump back when the second blade swiped at his stomach. The edge of the blade caught some of Nail's gambeson, but the armor did its job. He felt someone behind him and knew it was his friend. "Analise, what are you still doing here? Run!" He could not check to see her run, but he felt her leave his back and heard her feet scrape the dirt as she fled. He returned his attention to the fight at hand and not a moment too soon.

The young guardsman had to jump back again to dodge a double swipe aimed at his neck. Nail caught the next strike the man made and reached behind his back with his left hand to pull a dagger out in time to catch the man's other sword. Nail might not be the best with the sword and dagger style of fighting, but it was the most effective counter for two-sword he had at the moment. Nail wasn't a slouch with any of the disciplines the guards learned. I could beat this brute with a staff if I had to, he told himself, but thankfully, I don't have to. 

Nail managed to throw the older man off balance with a few quick motions. The brute's feet twisted in the unfamiliar terrain and Nail found an opening. Nail brought his sword down in a heavy blow that forced the older man to defend with both of his swords. Just when the man had committed all of his strength, Nail released his grip on the sword and ducked. The attacker flew off balance as his resistance became momentum, which carried him in an awkward direction. His blades would've cut Nail's neck if he hadn't ducked. Coming out of the duck, Nail whipped around full of youthful speed and plunged his dagger into the man's neck. The boy ripped his blade free and let the blood fly. The brute uselessly dropped his swords and tried to plug the hole in his neck with his hands.

Nail looked around while the monster fell and found a defensive line had formed near the elder's hut. He retrieved his sword and joined the line. As he took his place in the formation, another flaming rock flew from the forest and crashed into the line three men away from him. Two of his friends, Mata and Mànus, took the brunt of the explosive force while the rest of the men, Nail included, were sent to the ground by the shock wave.

Nail hit his head on a rock when he landed, and the world went black.

---/\\//\\//\---

The world spun when Nail opened his eyes again. The men around him on the ground didn't move as he went to stand. Looking, he found each had been given a stroke of mercy. All but Mata, Mànus, and himself, Nail guessed the invaders must have thought him already dead. He heard people screaming and watched flames roar across the village. A few hundred yards away he saw a pair of invaders going from body to body making sure that each was truly dead.

About a dozen yards closer, he saw a moving body. Someone else had survived and was trying to crawl away. Nail struggled to his feet and held up his sword and dagger in a defensive posture. The adrenaline that ran through his veins sharpened the gruesome image. Elders cut down in their ceremonial robes, children lay still with eyes wide and full of horror, blood mixed with the dirt to make a layer of mud that coated the paving stones. Gore burned in his eyes as he marched toward the invaders. These two were wearing long brown cloaks. Similar to what the berryman had been wearing. To Nail's shock, he realized that one of them was the berryman. Jeremy? Nail thought. No, that shouldn't be possible. He's loyal to the village.

The other invader turned when Nail made a step. Did he hear me? That seemed unlikely over all the screams and roaring flames. Nail stood straight and glared at the man. "You'd attack a village during a holy ceremony?" Nail asked.

"We follow our orders, boy," the invader said. The man walked over to the crawling figure and grabbed her by the hair, wrenching her up from the ground. Her face was bloodied, but her blonde hair and blue eyes shone in the firelight.

"Ana!" Nail's voice broke.

The brown-haired monster raised his sword to the girl's neck and glared at Nail before commanding, "Stop." The word reverberated through the air and crashed into Nail, seizing his body and stopping his forward momentum. The man's eyes blazed to life. He had thought they were brown, but now the ring of color around the black pupil burned a bright purple.

Analise's eyes widened as the beast pressed the steel against her throat. "Nail!"

"No!" Nail felt his eyes burn as something flew from his chest, like a piece of his soul left with the word. The power in the piece of his soul that flew out of him shattered the hold of the invader's word. He flew with the sound of his word and found himself with a bloodied dagger a few inches from the invader's split throat. The man fell forward, the purple light in his eyes burning out. Nail shoved him so he fell away from Analise. The lad turned on Jeremy next.

"Tend to her, Nail; she is dying." The berryman turned his back on the lad and unsheathed two swords while shrugging off his long brown cloak, letting it pool behind him. Nail did a double take, segments of steel layered one upon another wrapped around his upper body and shoulders over a red shirt. Was he wearing armor under his cloak? Jeremy's weapons were also distinct; instead of the long, straight sword and dagger that Nail had, these blades were both a hand and a half long with leaf-shaped edges on both sides. Three invaders had returned from their busy work razing the village, and Jeremy stepped forward to meet them. The boy turned away from him as he engaged the invaders.

He knelt to scoop Analise up off the ground and put her in his lap to the sound of grunts and clashing steel. "Ana... Analise..." Nail stopped before he asked if she was okay. There were dozens of streaking crimson lines falling down her beautiful wool dress. Her neck was red and her hands, coated in blood, had fallen limp to her side. Nail raised her head and put it between his chin and chest before he started to rock back and forth. "No, no, no." He whispered a prayer into her hair. Begging for the Lady to take her into her peaceful embrace.

A hand landed hard on the youth's shoulder and shook him. "Nail," the voice of the berryman brought him out of the prayers for the dead and back to the present. "Boy! I'm sorry, but we have to go." The lad turned and saw the man's face was covered in blood as were both of his swords. "Come, now! We don't have time to mourn, not here."

Nail set the girl back on the paving stones of the blood-covered administrative district and stood. "Take Barabbas's swords and come with me." Jeremy kept his head on a swivel, looking for any more oncoming invaders. The screams in the distance called to Nail's guard instincts.

"We have to help them!" he told Jeremy as he picked up the swords.

"We can't not like this, not now. It's a miracle of the gods you survived this battle as long as you have, Nail. Listen to me when I tell you our only option is to run."

Nail looked around and was once again attacked by the horrors. Men and women alike given no honor as they died in a battle they had not sought, what was the purpose of it all? Nail felt a hand across his cheek and two hands on his shoulders shaking him. The world, which had dulled, focused on Jeremy. "Nail! Start moving! Now!"

Nail ran alongside the berryman away from the administrative district and into the woods.