RECOMMENDED
READING
AFFILIATES
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"Ars Moriendi" by Matt Hughes |
"What are you, and where are the children?" said Vornole.
He was sure he had just been talking to three children, breaking his fast, and telling them a story or something. His mind felt a little muddled right now, but he was pretty sure there had been two boys and a girl, even if he could not recall their names.
Then again, there was the matter of this sleeping disease that caused him to nod off at the worst times. Lyear told him he had slept the entire ride from Rosemont to Waet Tree Village -- slept! Vornole didn't know how anyone could sleep strapped to a saddle, but he had three days' lost memory to prove it. So perhaps he had only been dreaming about the children? But no, there were the apple cakes Nita had just fetched for him, smeared across the floor where he must have spilled them.
Nita, that was her name. And Chassy and Andrev! Good, he remembered! But where were they?
The creature stood patiently, delicate hands folded in front of her, wings blanketing her in their shadow. A mass of hair so pale it was almost white further obscured her face. In his youth, he might have thought her human features desirable, especially considering the amount of flesh she displayed, but this was no human.
"Where have you taken them?" he demanded. For a moment, he considered immobilizing her with Orbweaver's Dance, but he had no way of gauging her own power. He might be among the strongest in Xillith, but he had read of other colonies in the world where the wizards were trained in Erise's own dark arts. Any aggressive move demanded careful preparation and an understanding of your opponent!
"What is the significance of these children?" she countered.
As if she had any right to know! He had sent them with Lyear to make sure the Amulet of Hope was delivered safely to another wizard at Death's End. The amulet had been guarded by the wizards of Xillith for centuries, but once Vornole started falling asleep for days at a time, he no longer felt like he should be its caretaker.
"I have sent them on an errand of importance, delivering an object to an associate of mine. And that's as much as I'm going to tell you until I know who and what you are."
"Ah, then they are Deathsworn to do what you've asked." She turned her head and adjusted a feather that was askew in her right wing. "Their quest must succeed. You may forget them." A wave of her hand dismissed his concern.
Deathsworn? But a person could only be Deathsworn if he agreed to a wizard's dying request, and that would mean...
"Are you suggesting that I'm dead? That's preposterous!" Vornole sprang out of the chair and was amazed to feel none of the exhaustion and creakiness he had experienced with every movement for the past century of his life. He paced the room, fingering the fine blue silks that had been woven right here in Waet Tree Village. The silk was smooth and strong, the wood of the bed solid and real. He was still in the village right now, he was sure of it.
"Not so ridiculous. You've suffered a disease of the spirit for some years now, and your health has been declining," the winged woman said. "It is your time."
Vornole waved her away. "The time of death is appointed by Thano the Scythe, not some woman! I deny your power, demon! Go back to your master Erise in the Underworld."
Her lips cracked a smile. "Don't you recognize me, learned human? I'm no demon, but Tivates, patron goddess of wizards."
Vorhole had never seen a depiction of Tivates; this could be her. He studied her body, considering for the first time the tattoos: a crescent on her chest just below her collarbones, and a pentagram on her stomach, enclosed in a circle. The crescent was a symbol of fertility and rebirth, but also of deception. The pentagram denoted the five points of the human body enclosed by the protective circle of eternity -- a wizard's mark to some, but for others, it was known as a "Goblin's cross," the points denoting the five classes of Erise's minions.
Strong symbols, to be sure, but did she wear them in the guise of good or evil?
"Bah! I'm still in the Blue Den of the Two Pumpkin Inn, very probably fast asleep with you invading my dreams. If you say that I'm dead, then prove it! If you are Tivates, I demand that you prove it!" He crossed his arms and settled back into the chair.
"You are a most petulant wizard," the winged woman said, her voice carrying an edge of annoyance.
"Don't even get me started!" Vornole scowled. He'd show her petulant!
"And you have a stronger spirit than any wizard I've encountered. This poses a problem for me."
"Well, how can I be of service?"
"Do not mock me human, or I shall call Elinda to teach you humility."
"Do you mean the Goddess Elinda, wife-partner of Rehn the Creator?" That was indeed a heavy threat, but Vornole could call her bluff. Every temple displayed statues of both Rehn and his wife Elinda, and he had visited dozens of temples across the world. "Please call her. I have always wanted to meet Elinda and experience her radiance firsthand."
The winged woman seemed to hesitate, then shook her head. "No. She is an important goddess, and I will not bother her unnecessarily. Listen, you must release your hold in this reality."
"Release my hold? If Thano has named this as my time to die, then how am I able to keep my hold in 'this reality,' as you call it?" The symbols must be evil, Vornole decided. Why else would she spend so much time trying to convince him that he was dead, instead of just carrying him off to Duath?
"Thano! Why do you keep referring to Thano! Do you imagine that he personally escorts every creature to Duath? He would spend all his days and nights running errands if that were true."
Her voice remained soft, but annoyance was growing in it. Soon she would challenge him to a duel and reveal her true nature, or she would give up this foolishness and leave him in peace. Either way, he would not believe that he was dead.
Still, her reasoning carried the ring of truth. Why would Thano himself take every creature to face Asa in the land of the dead? It made sense that he would have a messenger, maybe even a host of messengers. But surely he would give them the power to force stragglers to move along! He told her so.
"Yes, normally that is the case." She sighed as though this was going to take a while and plopped onto a table, fluffing her wings behind her. "But I am not the usual messenger. I've been sent to prepare you for a special destiny, Vornole. You see, although you will not be elevated during your rebirth, it is intended as a blessing and not a punishment. In your reborn state, you will serve as a messenger for the gods."
"What is this nonsense? If I'm dead, I'm to go to the land of the dead, Duath. I'm to be weighed by Asa and serve my time in Duath before being freed to enjoy the paradise I've earned! Rebirth? This is nothing but a fable created by those monsters from Across. The...the..."
The Dalatois! As he remembered, Vornole felt all the color leave his face, all the strength leave his voice, and he could not finish his sentence. This woman claiming to be Tivates must be one of the demons that the Northmen worshipped -- there was no other explanation -- and by all accounts, the Dalatois deities were powerful and vengeful. He must be careful how he stepped with this one.
"A fable!" Her shocked voice rang through his fear. "Do you not worship Rehn and Falise and the other gods and goddesses? Do you not revere their offspring and keep to their ways?"
Vornole found his tongue but forgot about being careful. "How dare you accuse me of such a thing! I worship and revere all the elder gods. But the rebirth -- that's a newfangled notion being circulated by those filthy Northmen. I'll have none of it."
Her jaw actually dropped, and her eyes flashed from the shadows. "Then it is you who have been worshipping a myth, wizard. The rebirth is your heritage. By refusing to leave the memory of your life, you may delay your destiny by an instant, but you cannot avoid it. For all the strength of your magic, you are a heretic! Elinda could not have known, or she would have chosen another. When she hears what I have heard, you will be lucky to escape her wrath!"
And she vanished, leaving him to sulk at her scorn.
For many moments, Vornole sat in the chair fuming. A heretic! Her words and her actions made no sense. Why did she give up so easily? Was she a minor demon who had thought she would trick him into something? Or had she gone to fetch her master?
He shuddered at that thought, and then realized he could put this whole death nonsense to rest once-and-for-all just by leaving his room. He lifted his robes over the apple cakes and opened the door. The hallway was silent -- not unusual -- but the common room was completely empty. Lora Smyth, the innkeeper, was absent, along with the cook, the serving wenches, and the kitchen boy. Walking outside, he realized that the entire town was devoid of other humans. The Mother Tree in the center of the village was still and silent, no wind to ruffle the leaves. He did not see a single bird, horse, or even a squirrel anywhere.
"If this is my reality," he thought, "it is a very flat reality."
But if it was a creation of his mind, he suddenly realized, he should be able to populate the town. Since he knew of no magical words or potions to do such a thing, he closed his eyes and concentrated on what he knew should be. Sound returned to his ears, and when he opened his eyes, Master Svarne was sitting on the bench by the door of the inn smoking his pipe. A dog was chasing three laughing children down the street, but it was a dog he had seen in Rosemont, it didn't belong here.
Vornole thought he might vomit. He swept past the mayor and back into the inn, ignoring the crowds. No one seemed to notice him as he rushed down the hallway toward his room. At least, no one met his eye or greeted him, not even the innkeeper. When he reached his room, there were the children, straightening his sheets, fluffing his pillows, and arguing about who would clean up the apple cakes. He collapsed in his bed and closed his eyes, willing all the people to be gone. The room became silent.
So whatever else she might have lied about, the winged woman was telling the truth about this.
"Tivates tells me you don't believe in the rebirth."
Vornole opened his eyes. It was her, the Goddess Elinda, the supreme mother! She wore a filmy silver robe that shimmered in a non-existent wind, the hood pulled up over her black hair. A few locks fell out one side, cascading down past her waist in a fall of curls. The winged woman, who he now realized must be Tivates, stood slightly behind, her face bathed in Elinda's aura. Elinda's smile was full of mirth; Tivates' was full of triumph.
He hopped off the bed so fast that his foot caught in the coverlet and he fell flat on his face. Maybe that was an accident and maybe it wasn't. He stayed on the floor, just in case.
"I believe! I believe!" Vornole could not keep the breathiness out of his voice. "Forgive me, Goddess, I did not know."
"Rise to your feet, child."
Feeling her proximity, he looked up to see her hand by his face. He took it, her touch filling him with joy, and she pulled him to his feet.
"I knew your beliefs before Tivates told me, because you've lived your convictions for your entire life. That is why I chose you to carry my message."
Vornole heard Tivates gasp and wondered why he had not believed in her divinity before. Her aura was so strong that he could feel her behind Elinda.
"But Goddess, why would you want a heretic to serve you?"
"If you had been taught the proper beliefs, you would have lived them with the same conviction." Elinda stroked back his hair as though he were a child, even though it was white and thin with age. "It is not your fault, but the fault of your parents, and your parents' parents, for hundreds of generations. There are many more who profess a belief, but their actions speak a different story. I required a messenger of unwavering honesty, so that none could ever call the message into doubt. And you are the strongest wizard to come out of Xillith for centuries."
There were many stronger wizards even now in Xillith, Vornole knew, and many were more learned and even stronger in their beliefs. There may even be some who knew of the rebirth. He would not contradict her, but he did not feel entirely worthy of the responsibility.
"Many wizards are strong, and many unwavering in their beliefs, but I am honored to be chosen. How may I serve?" he asked.
"I am glad you do this willingly." Elinda nodded. "For most creatures, there is a period after their death but before rebirth where they serve in Duath at the pleasure of the gods. I have arranged for you to serve that time in the living world. You'll be born again as a human child to a herb woman in Fort True, and you'll counsel the Deathsworn about their destiny."
Their destiny? Granted, the trip to Death's End would be a long journey, but not longer than a summer. They would be old before he was prepared to carry any sort of message.
"But Goddess, by the time I am old enough to speak, their quest will be finished."
Elinda only smiled. "Have faith in your goddess."
Who could understand the master plan of a goddess?
"After I'm reborn, will I remember having been a wizard? Will I remember meeting you and Tivates?" he asked.
Elinda shrugged. "Death is not only the end of life, but the beginning, and beginnings are full of hope and uncertainty. Some remember, others do not. If you forget, we will remind you."
She brushed back his hair again, and all he knew was a mother's love.
Chris Africa is a veteran writer and editor, with eight years' experience in Web site development. In November 2003, she founded Ultraverse e-zine of science fiction and fantasy. For more information about Chris Africa, browse her personal web site, Parola Scritta. Feel free to contact her at either of her e-mail addresses: baiewola@yahoo.com or editor@ultraverse.us
© 2004 Chris Africa
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