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Chapter Sixteen
Sweet sorrow of the sickening love
It tastes of death that soon would grow
And in that moment of triumph, the ecstasy would I feel
When death would send people crying too and fro
Cariline walked through the tents that formed the new town of Tharpe. She was awestruck at the number of people they had now in the tent city. When they razed the city and left, they had seven hundred and twenty people in the Temple, and now in the camp, they had seventeen hundred people. As the city burned, people left in droves. Then when the Grim marched out with the army in tow, they choose to follow what they saw as the safe choice.
Now, there wasn’t enough shelter to go around. People huddled by fires in attempts to warm themselves. Already some had built primitive lean-tos out of dried reed grass and driftwood. Before long, there would be open brawling when the first storms came off the Divide and after the early few storms, they would not have a shortage of housing anymore.
More critical than housing was the scarcity of food. In the temple with just seven hundred, the survivors of the Battle of Tharpe were going to be hard pressed to survive the month. It had brought the decision to burn and destroy Tharpe to defeat a superior force. Now they had jumped from the frying pan into a roaring bonfire. They had everyone who was available and knew how to, out trolling the shallows fishing, even though it was hazardous to do so this time of the year out on the stormy Dim Lake. The army was putting all its bows and precious supply of arrows to work hunting even though they were now exposed to the eastern side of the Dim and any monster or bandit that happened by in the edge of the Expanse.
No, by spring they would be lucky to have half the people they had now if they did not get help from one of the other towns. The chances of that happening were slim. To send anyone, it was a week on foot to Doldrom. Even if they could outfit the poor soul properly, it would be a dangerous trip, with snows expected to begin any day. Jen did send a reaper, but they traveled no faster than a man could and were obligated to stop to serve rites to any deceased. This responsibility and compulsion sometimes delayed them further than human messengers.
Cariline spotted someone skinning a buck that she thought she recognized. She ran through the field of tents and almost tackled the old homesteader with his skinning knife in his hand.
“Uncle Herbert,” she said with misty tears standing in her eyes, “I didn’t know if you made it-“ She choked on her happiness and sorrow all at once. Herbert held the girl tight, trying not to get blood on her.
He slowly moved back from her and drew in a husky breath, “I heard of Philian, I did. And then I had a life changing experience when I saw that fella with the glowing eyes.--” Herbert’s wrinkled eyelids went wide to reveal his gray-green eyes, and he shuttered “--I was at the Temple girl, I made it before they closed the gates. I never thought I would find myself running to one of them infernal places. Right glad I did though. Thought I would stick a day or two to say thanks.”
“Will your family be alright?” She asked the concern showing on her pale face.
“A few days won’t hurt Anna and my girls, where these poor folks could stand to have a few more,” Herbert said with a voice filled with compassion.
“Have you seen Damon, my man, around?”
“He went off towards the lake, not five minutes passed, looked in thought,” Herbert waved a bloody skinning knife towards the windy Dim Lake.
“Thanks, Uncle, you must come to my wedding today,” She planted a kiss on his cheek.
“Wouldn’t miss it, love.” He turned and set back to his grisly work.
She walked off down the streets made by the orderly rows of tents. She marveled how people, even in the direst of circumstances, always yearned for the familiar. The women already had rugs outside the doors, clotheslines hung and were viciously cleaning. Merchants were setting up little stalls to sell what little they could scrounge. Some enterprising person even managed to scrape together enough canvas and lumber to put up a pavilion and a bar. They were running a small tavern.
She passed out of the main body of the tent city to follow the footprints down the shore where she found Damon starring out towards the smoldering city. She walked up behind him, wrapping her arms around his lean torso and put her face in his short dark hair. The auburn haired woman sat there on the shoreline her eyes closed, listening to the wind whistle through the nearby dead cattails and trees. It sounded like the raspy laughter to her, nowhere in her life could she seem to find happiness or respite.
Her father was a fugitive from the Federation. He had sold off each one of his daughters like cattle. She had been his last one, his last chance for gain and she choose Damon against his will. Was this her punishment. It couldn’t be, for she had the privilege to bare the Grim’s grandchild. She hugged Damon tighter to banish the darkness that of impending doom from her thought.
“You miss him, don’t you?” she asked him. He nodded as he casually rubbed her hands around him, never taking his dark, red-rimmed eyes off the ruined city on the almost invisible distant shore.
“You need sleep, Damon. You will collapse soon. What has it been two days or three?” She asked, still trying to coax a comment out of the brooding man before her.
“Two.” He said stifling a yawn as he turned in her arms to face her. He leaned down and gave her a slow kiss, breathing her in, and making her heart race. She needed to talk about something to remove his thoughts from his lost friends, to bring him back to the world of the living. She let her mind wander and tried to draw him in on the more pressing issues.
“You know I was thinking; I want your Father to do the ceremony instead of the Matron,” Cariline said when she could breathe again. Her head slowly stopped spinning bringing the gray world back into focus.
“Why?” Damon asked while starting a trail of kissing down her neck, “The Matron’s duty is to be a shepherd over the people. Jen is quite capable, and it will be her first.”
“And it could be Grim’s last, and it will be Grim’s son’s union, that will involve his grandchild. Sheesh! are all men this insensitive?” She said a little irritated, pushing Damon’s attempts away.
“No, I guess it was just when you were raised to think of her as your Aunt Jen, and she is the Aunt of your best friend, you do tend to play favorites. I have only known my Father a day.” He said with a shrug, “But if it is what you want, it is ok with me as long as you call me yours in the end. Who is going to stand with you?”
“That is just a silly tradition, besides almost everyone I know died in Tharpe. Let’s not do that.” Cariline’s blue eyes brimmed and her lower lip trembled slightly.
He wrapped his arms around her wincing slightly, “Ok, we won’t. Let’s go talk to my Father I am sure he will approve.” They started back through the tent city inquiring as to the whereabouts of the Grim. A few of the guards pointed them in the direction of the temporary Temple in the back of the encampment. There was a constant guard there now, and they were hailed on approach.
“State your business,” Corporal Thad challenged them when they were within ten paces.
“Corporal, it is good to see you again. Is my Father in there?” Damon asked while holding Cariline’s hand tightly.
“He is, but it was asked of the Grim-Guard for them not to be disturbed” Corporal Thad informed them, “Could I take them a message?”
“Corporal, could you ask my Father to come out here please?” Damon said between clenched teeth. The events of the past few days had caused his thin patients to strain, and his face darkened.
“Damon be nice” Cariline warned squeezing his hand in warning tightly
“What I haven’t done anything.” Damon looked innocently at his betrothed.
“Yet.” Cariline finished his statement.
The corporal smiled and turned for the tent. He had no more than flipped the opening than the Grim strode out. He smiled largely at the two and clapped the corporal on the back.
“What are you in such a good mood for?” Damon asked his father wearily.
“Because the reapers so far haven’t found any trace of Faldo’s Soul.” The Grim said folding his arms across his chest triumphantly.
“And that means he is alive?” Cariline asked tentatively.
“Well it means they haven’t found him dead yet but neither have they found him alive.” Grim said with a little shrug seemingly unconcerned, “Now what can I do you for?”
“You know you shouldn’t build peoples hopes just to let them fall, right?” Damon replied before continuing, “We want you to do the Union instead of the Mother Matron. We are a unique case, and my betrothed believes it needs a unique blessing.”
“Well then get used to hearing this Damon, she’s right,” Grim said with a sigh and then gave Cariline a playful wink.
Cariline slapped Damon on his shoulder, “Told you so!”
“Ow!, Crossbow bolt ring a bell?” He asked rubbing his shoulder as he winced in pain, “So you will do it, can we do it at sunset?”
“Sunset it is, it will allow me to prepare my wedding present to my son and his wife.” The Grim said with a loving smile at the two of them, “You know it is strange, to have a family after five hundred millennia. It is a feeling to get used to but to lose it.--" The Grim shook his head slowly, and his face reflected the sorrow he was holding back "-- Sometimes I think Order is granting me that one thing I always longed to know what it felt like. Rebirth.”
Cariline’s eyes brimmed full with tears as she threw her arms around the Grim and kissed him on the cheek. Damon came in beside her and gave him a side hug, not all that comfortable with showing emotion. The tent flap rippled wide as Jen rushed out in a flurry of movement. She froze as she went to open her mouth and looked in puzzlement at the open display of affection before her.
“Um? would this be a time for excellent news?” She asked, taking a few steps back towards the yawning tent opening, “If not I can come back later when there is not so much hugging and crying going on.”
The Grim gave a hearty laugh as Damon stepped away hurriedly, straightening his clothes. The Grim looked at his Most Beloved with an upraised eyebrow in question of the good news.
“Spit it, Jen, don’t make me beg for it. I don’t have much time as it is.” He reminded her. Jen coughed huskily, clearing her throat at the mention of the imminent death of her husband, “Rascus was investigating the Inn. There, he found footprints leading out of the Jakes pit in the ash. We think Faldo survived.” Jen said excitedly.
“Did you find Fredricks Body?” Damon asked calmly, his dark eyes intent on his foster aunt.
“I don’t know, I did not think to ask that,” Jen admitted.
“Then it could have been that thrice-cursed old man. It would be just the damn demon’s curse for that ass to survive!” Damon spat to the side.
“It wasn’t,” Rascus said behind his son.
“Shit!” Damon exclaimed as he jumped forward wheeling around, “Don’t do that, will you? I do have to survive a few more years. Tell him Grim.”
Rascus chuckled raspingly as Cariline looked around puzzled. The Grim and Jen were both laughing as something had happened, and Damon was talking to someone who was not here. It seemed the world had finally gone mad on her.
“EVERYBODY STOP IT,” she yelled loudly, silencing the trio, “Will somebody, please tell me who in the Planes of Chaos scared Damon and Who he was talking to?”
“Oh, he was talking to his father,” Jen said casually.
“No, he wasn’t.” Cariline argued, her face was a mask of confusion and uncertainty, “I was standing right here. He wasn’t talking to Grim. He even told Grim to tell them.” Damon started to open his mouth, and the Grim shook his head frowning at him, nodding his head at the Mother Matron. The education of the flock was her territory to teach others about, not his.
“Cariline,--” Jen began gently, stopping to choose her words carefully, “--Damon has two fathers. That is one of his more unique qualities. Grim is his immortal father. Rascus is his human or mortal father. Rascus was turned into a reaper by Bethel a decade ago.”
“Then why can everyone but me, hear and see him?” Cariline was looking wildly from face to face of the people she had chosen to trust, “Damon is not a Necromancer, but he can obviously do both.”
“The Reapers are part material and part spiritual; they have to be to exist on the Overworld and Underworld. Part of the curse when it is laid is only those with the power of Grim may see them,” She explained carefully, watching the knowledge dawn on Cariline, “Damon is the only Heir to The Grim and some of his power is his right. It is not sorcery. It is Grim’s nature.”
Cariline’s flesh prickled and goosebumps rippled as the thought of the impending marriage to the Crown Prince of the Underworld finally occurred to her in reality. Up till now, she had thought of it in purely formal means. Damon had always seemed, well just Damon. He was of second-man, born out a woman’s vagina just like everyone else. Now, he was an immortal, and she was going to marry that immortal, under a sprawling birch, in a matter of hours.
“Cariline dear,” Jen said touching her arm, “Honey what is wr—“
Cariline dashed off through the guard with her dress flying out behind her. Damon looked on at his intended running through the tent city with a hurt look in his tear-filled, dark eyes. Somewhere behind him came a raspy sound that might have been the laughter of a reaper or a cold winters wind.
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