2. The White Thread
I busied myself at the small table by the hearth, making what I hoped would be a beneficial poultice for Gingel. This gave me a reason to keep a knife in my hand. My mind was free to race as I worked.
What did I see? Did I really see something? Maybe it was just a trick of the light. How will we survive winter now? Should we sell everything and flee south to a warmer clime? How will we pay for a healer? Is there nothing to be done?
Peering out the tiny window into the darkening evening, I couldn”t spy the thing that had watched us. This brought me no comfort. I would have felt better if it was still out there, waiting. It could be anywhere now. At least I would know it was real if it was still standing out there.
Arit did not share my belief that we were in mortal danger, and he fell into slumber as I kept watch. If he were able to sleep, I would let him. Shifts of sleeping might seem prudent. I found myself only a little concerned at his reaction to Gingel”s injury. He”d never been one to overreact. We had that in common. But I couldn”t help but believe he was in some kind of shock. No, it was something else. It felt like acceptance. Like he had seen it coming. I shook my head. It has to be shock or something like.
I threw ingredients into my mortar and pestle, grinding as a wave of anxiety engulfed me. An accusing voice whispered that this was all my fault. All the decisions I had made, every choice that brought us here, now boxed us into this helpless situation. My mind played out all the possible scenarios, the paths we could have taken, should have taken instead of hiding out in this gods-forsaken corner of the world. But we had been tired of running. I knew we had stayed here too long. Four years had passed too quickly, no doubt, due to the constant struggle to survive. It seemed a strange thing to lose track of time when there just wasn”t enough of it.
It had been just Gingel and I, two young girls adrift in a cruel world. Forced to flee our home a mere three months after a contingent of the Grengen Horde ravaged our city, we knew our father had been killed but didn”t know what fate befell our mother. She may have died at their hands as well or been taken captive. A Grengen slave would meet the same fate shortly, or at least that is what we were told. Mindless beasts, the Horde was comprised of the abominable meldings of man and monster. There was no reasoning with them, no begging or pleading.
It was a bold move on my part to leave our continent, Festa, and sail north to Ord. Our aim was the small village where our grandmother was born, hoping we might find a remnant of family or a friendly benefactor who remembered her. There was no other anchor in the world for us, no other family or friend capable of helping us, hiding us. In hindsight, it may have been a foolish move on my part, but the events that propelled our departure had been dire enough that I knew we needed to put as much distance between home and ourselves as quickly as possible. The small voice returned.
Murderer. Blood on your hands.
I shook my head.
No. It was self-defense. Not that anyone would have believed it.
Wiping the sweat that formed on my brow, I pushed that little voice down where I couldn”t hear it.
I silently thanked my father for teaching me as much about the true nature of the world as he could. It would have been easy to live the simple, pampered life of a merchant king”s daughter. It came easily enough for Gingel, but my innate curiosity pushed me to want more. That knowledge was what saved us out in the world. Two young girls wandering alone were a great temptation for some men, no matter their scruples. We dressed as boys, learned how to be unseen, and moved quickly through towns and villages. Arduous as it was to travel the distance, it was thankfully uneventful, for the most part.
Our arrival at Brint, a small village on the northeast plains of Ord, ended up a disappointment. There were no long-lost family members; no one even remembered our grandmother”s family name. No benefactor appeared to rescue us. All that long journey for nothing.
But the gods took pity on us and sent us Arit. He was alone in the world as well, having lost his family to a pestilence the last winter. He did the best a fifteen-year-old boy could do with his modest homestead, hunting and selling shellstag at the local market where we met. He took us into his home, and we became a makeshift family. It wasn”t until a few years later that I suspected he had fallen hopelessly for Gingel. Having no money for an official engagement, they had been living as common-law man and wife since the spring of this year. Arit was an agreeable young man, too kind and loving for this harsh world. His love and care for Gingel was refreshing, and she became his whole world just as she was mine.
That world was crashing down around us now as she slept, drunk on mead. We both feared what misery she would suffer when she awoke, but it was calm in the hovel for now. Thankful for the moment of tranquility, I wanted to think that my vigilance would thrive in the silence. I was wrong. After hours of worry, that vigilance waned. Distracted from my watch, I felt a presence in the room behind me, raising every hair on my arms. Gripping the handle of the knife, my mind bid my body turn around, but I was unable to do so.
”Forgive me. I did not intend to frighten you so. I am not to be seen. It is not for you to see me.” His voice was a smooth rolling rumble, no louder than a hushed murmur, yet each word was distinct, measured. I didn”t know which would be more frightening, for the thing I saw outside to be some mindless beast or the intelligent entity that had made entry into our home undetected.
I still could not turn.
”You need not fear me. No harm can be done by my hand. I have only to complete my labor, and I will be gone.”
The invisible hand of fright released me, and I quickly turned, moving to put the table between me and the unwanted guest. I brandished my knife as I backed away, trying to make out what stood in the corner. He appeared to be a man, devoid of all manner of hair, with sunken features and pale skin stretched over a skull—a more human-looking thing than what I perceived him to be in the forest, but no less monstrous.
Hunched in the corner, he stood upright and turned toward me slowly. Endlessly black eyes peered from gaunt sockets; no whites were to be seen. I would have thought him some kind of demon by his look, but his manner was slow and fluid. He seemed to be cloaked in smoke, his garment alive, a vapor moving with him. I fought back against the paralyzing terror that brushed its fingers against my throat, struggling to recall everything the creature had said.
Forgive me…need not fear me…no harm.
”Wha...what are you?” I whispered, barely able to breathe.
He moved toward me slowly, but I pushed back from the table quickly. Sensing my fear, he shrunk back, making himself smaller. His eyes blinked slowly as he observed me.
”I am a guide, sent here to bring the elect to the next sphere. Nothing more. My presence and purpose have gone unnoticed until today. I do not understand why I am seen by you.”
”I don”t understand either. Your labor? The elect? Why are you here?” I asked, making threatening moves with the useless knife in my hand.
He made a motion with his hand toward Gingel and, in doing so, produced a shining white thread from the air around him, vibrating with a shimmering pulse. Held taut in his hand, one end connected to Gingel and the other end to himself, with loops of slack draped around his arm.
”I am to wind the thread until it is finished. I will then guide her to the next sphere of existence. This is my purpose. Only this.”
His words pushed the air from my lungs. My mind understood instantly, but my heart stumbled.
No no no. Not that. Please don”t say that means... A sickening realization transformed my fear. He was here for Gingel. My blood retreated from my skin as cold sweat broke on its surface. I struggled to speak, afraid if I asked the question, it would cement the answer I already knew.
”So you are Death.”
I could not believe it even as I said it.
He raised his chin slowly as he peered over at the sleeping lovers, their soft breaths a testament to the vibrant life that dwelt in them—that still existed in her fragile body. His gaze swept back to me for study. The pause couldn”t have been more than a moment, but it dragged as I waited.
”Some may call me thus. Death is not a person. It is the absence of life in this sphere. I am simply a guide to the next sphere where one must then wait for the world”s ending.”
It was my turn to pause. In my studies, I found many assumptions about life after death. Most wanted to believe comfort and ease awaited them if they did good deeds. Others claimed an endless darkness waited to pull us into its embrace. I had always hoped we would simply cease to be. But here, in my insignificant kitchen, there stood the proof. With a handful of words, he had imparted more information than I had read in any book. More than I had heard from any acolyte”s proclamation on a filthy street corner. I absorbed his words while a request formed back in the dark recesses.
”Tell me what to do, tell me how to save my sister...please,” I said, the words spewing from my mouth before I understood what it meant to ask them. I took a step toward him, hoping to bargain. It is foolish, but who would not ask the same?
”There is no remedy. Once the thread summons me, it will be wound until I take the elect. No one has stopped this in all the lives of men that I have served as a guide. Make your peace, if you can. It will not be stopped.”
I looked away, my thoughts helplessly scrambling. No, this will not be accepted. There is time, isn”t there? The slack on the thread was time.
I set the knife on the table, its surrender, my own. My breathing was brought under control; my heartbeat was forced to obey me. In my mind, I stood at a crossroads. I could rail and scream and mourn. I could let the terror that lapped at my feet like a black flood drown me. I”d seen others do more in much less dire situations. It would be so easy. He was certainly monstrous enough to draw out all the mindless reactions humans were so prone to exhibit. But that wasn”t me. I hadn”t let go, let myself succumb to every unfortunate turn in my life. I had fought back.
Fear clouds the mind; it never goes away. But I could choose to remove it as an obstacle and let it push me forward. I grasped this new fear, strangled it, and let it fall away. The path was clear. I would find a way to save Gingel, and the only one who might hold the key stood before me. But this trembling building inside me demanded I give in and fall to pieces. I wondered how long I could ask my sanity to stay with me.
Long enough to find out what I needed to know? Would he answer my questions? What would I ask? Wait, what had he been before serving?
My thoughts were focused on a solution: how to save my sister. Quickly reasoning that he might slip and give me the insight I needed to save Gingel, I had to believe there was a reason why I could see him, could speak to him. I had time to figure out a way. I had to. More information. I need more.
”Have you not always been a guide?” I asked, hoping for something I could grasp, an idea.
”I was not always as you see. I was a man once, so long ago that there is no record among the peoples of the world for the stories of my era.”
A strange thing to say, but that doesn”t really pin down when he lived. So much information had been lost in the Wielder wars, books destroyed, cities razed, it could have been any time before that.
”Are you...allowed to talk to me? What are the rules? Can I ask you anything?” I pressed.
”Rules? There is only what is and what is not. If I can say a thing, I will.”
Good. Keep asking.
”How long does she have until the injury takes her?”
”There is no measure of time for me. There is only winding,” he said. ”Please know that I have no desire to take your sister. This is simply my role. I had no hand in her injury. I am not summoned until her path is set.” His declaration seemed genuine, and I found myself believing him.
”I understand, I think I understand. But I must try to save her. We can”t lose her. She is our center.”
”As you wish. It is not in my power to stop you.”
I nodded. My eyes closed, too long of a blink, reluctant to open again. I was exhausted, running on panic and fear alone. But now, those fell away, and sleep had begun to stalk me. I couldn”t let it win. I needed to prepare.
”If I ask you to leave, will you go?”
”Of course. I have trespassed on your privacy. My apologies. I have not conversed with a human in many years.” He turned away.
”Wait! How long? How long has it been since you last spoke?” I couldn”t help but ask. He paused again, his eyes downcast as if searching for the answer.
”It has been nearly two millennia, by my count.”
”Did you not say that there was no measure of time for you?”
”The past is…solid. Finite in its measurement. The future is not.”
He turned his head to look at me. ”If there is nothing else, I will take my leave.”
Was there anything else? Surely there should be something I should ask?
”Nothing else.”
He melted through the wall as easily as one would move through a doorway, and I was left alone to reflect on my new unfathomable reality.