The Priest sharply clapped his hands and the two adepts stepped up behind Hamar, carrying some sort of cloth, a heavy purple one like a cape. Hamar half turned to see them and then looked to the Priest, but as their eyes met, Hamar somehow already understood:
he turned his back to receive his rightful mantle.
With the Priest’s full gaze on him Hamar stood proud to have the golden clasps fastened at his shoulders. The two attending adepts bowed as they backed away, all the crowd bowing low as well. The Priest kept his eyes on Hamar to see more than could be seen by natural sight. Then the Priest lifted his chin as he towered above the boy.
The man’s presence again became ponderous in the room and his big scarlet cloak began to rise behind him in the air, coming alive as it ballooned with energy of its own. It was much bigger than Hamar’s, its back embroidered with strange signs. It grew to become a grand backdrop behind him as it finally lifted straight up high like a sail behind the man’s head.
As all the men began moaning a different chant the Priest’s unholy eyes drilled into Hamar’s, and the boy surprised himself as he steadily held the man’s gaze, – in truth it didn’t feel very sure, but their pupils stayed locked without either of them blinking.
The Red Priest stood there in his glory with an unearthly light on his face. As the chant in the room became insistent his red cape gained even more power and began to swing from side to side behind him, its shadow big on the walls. The power level in the room rose with it until tiny blue sparks slid up in lines along the folds of the clothes of all the men, crackling and snapping as they rose, while blue flames sat on top of the staffs some of them carried. The Priest signalled for absolute silence.
As minutes ticked by, one man panicked and ran for the exit, but ended up tightly curled on the floor like a slug!
Then Hamar felt energy fill up his own small cape behind his back, the torches flaring larger! Here and there a few men cried out under the pressure, and Hamar’s skull felt packed out tight, a wet thread of blood running down from his nose.
He licked it away.
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