Chapter Eighteen
The father has disappeared
The reapers in joyous rapture
For their warden tormented their bones no more
And so soon my soul would seek another to capture
400Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFFeqCmI4OY
Jen sat shaking her head in the temporary tent warmed by the glowing braziers. The crowd outside had fallen into a state of almost panic after her husband had given the eulogy at the wedding and his “blessing.” She listened to the crowd outside almost shouting at each other and watched Grim peek out of the canvas flap into the descending darkness.
“That went well Grace,” she said dryly, eyeing her husband “don’t you think you could have put it forward a little more gently.”
The Grim looked back at her from his position at the door, with a look of complete puzzlement in his glowing eyes. He shook his head side to side sending his long dark hair slinging over his shoulders.
“I just don’t understand them.” the Grim protested defensively. His voice drawn, sounding hurt as he rubbed his temples, “I tried to explain I would be back in three years, but mortals are so touchy.”
He said the last with a hint of irritation as he walked over to plop down hard in a chair. For the first time Jen could remember, the All-father looked tired. Usually, the Grim never looked exhausted; he never slept. Today he looked to age; he seemed old. Jen got up to come over and massage his broad muscular shoulders. He let a groan escape his lips.
“You seem tired husband.” She stated it as a fact, not open to argument as she dug deep into his shoulders.
“It happens the longer I stay on the surface as I am not subject to time. Time lets me know when my body is reaching its limits on the Overworld. It will get worse. Normally I would be on my way back to my city now. I do dread what is to come.” He caught her hand and brought her around to his lap, “Is that what it is like for second-man? The dread of death, of the unknown.”
“At times, for those who do not know of you or the Underworld. But for you, I fear it is something completely different. You are one of a kind.” She said soothingly. The Grim took in a slightly shaking breath and then quickly pushed his wife off and stood to his full height.
“What is it husband?” she inquired.
“I hear Wallace coming near with Faldo. They must not see me in this manner.” He said taking a few deep breaths, “We have an uphill battle with Faldo. I have already talked to Damon. It seems fate has been most ironic with it’s chosen heroes this time.”
He gave a throaty chuckle that turned into a full laugh. His wife raised an eyebrow at him wondering if her husband had finally lost his infinite mind. He held up a finger for a second to catch his breath, “I thought that I should be more fearful for the fact that Order has sent two atheists to save the world from Chaos than I should be at the fact of I won’t see tomorrow night.”
She smiled at the thought as the tent flap opened to admit the short and stout commander of her army. Next to him limped in the young man responsible for the death of the leader of the resistance that had taken the town and slaughtered hundreds of innocents. People had clambered to see another hero of Tharpe who they had counted as dead. He still looked rough, but he smelled a damn sight better. His blonde hair was clean now, burns tended to, but his right arm was a loss. It was fractured in the ulnar and had been splinted and slung around his neck.
Faldo gave the Grim a thoughtful look as he walked up to the Immortal Caregiver of The World. He chuckled and shook his blonde head, “I’ll have to admit, the glowing eyes trick is pretty creepy. But damn Grim’s own eyes, where did you guys find someone to look just like Damon?--” Faldo turned to ask his Aunt Jen, “--Did you get Damon’s Aunt Salina to enchant some look alike to help you control the masses in this time of turbulence. Not that I would bl—“
Jen laid her hand softly across her nephew’s mouth to quiet him while sadly shaking her head. Grim had a hurt look in his eyes, but he didn’t understand the depth of disbelief in his chosen disciple. Faldo understood Purposes and sorcery, but it stopped there. He believed the Grim was a sorcerer from around the time of Robert the Conqueror, the King responsible for the settlement of the East. The theory was widely accepted in the Central Federation, where some even went so far as to say that mythical person was a Lich of some power.
“Faldo let’s say for the sake of argument that this is the Grim. Let him prove to you he is. Hear him out, for tomorrow he will be gone, and without you, the entire universe will burn on the Planes of Chaos.” She gently explained never taking her serious green eyes off her skeptical nephew's doubtful face. He gave her a slow nod and turned to the tired Grim.
“Sir, it seems I owe you an apology. It was rude of me to act in such a manner being invited here to meet you, whether you are god or mortal—“ Faldo’s apology was interrupted by Wallace clearing his throat. Faldo turned his eyes to the Master Sergeant expectantly. The burly man shifted uncomfortably under the attention but spoke clearly.
“He is not a god. He will correct you every time on that. So don’t even try.” The Grim favored Wallace with a smile and Jen giggled with her hand over her mouth.
Faldo turned back to the Grim with a half smile to say, “Then what are you?”
“Well, now you ask finally.” The Grim said letting out an exasperated breath, “I am an immortal caregiver to this planet. I was created five hundred thousand years ago with this world and told to take care of it. It is for that exact purpose I need you.”
“And who told you to take care of it. Who existed before you?” Faldo asked skeptically.
“You know, I have asked the Voice in the Well of Souls that exact question many times over the eons to no avail. Order created me. Who or what Order is I know not, but I do know it is benevolent. It sometimes refers to itself in the singular while other times, switching to the plural. Maybe someday we will know, or we may never know that mystery. Does that satisfy your curiosity?” The Grim asked the big man.
Faldo unfolded his arms from across his chest and paced the length of the tent and turned back to the Grim, “Not particularly, it only deepens the mystery for me. It does help on your side of things marginally, but you could have been coached on what to say.”
Wallace shook his head with a frown, “Some people won’t see the canyon till they are bouncing down the edge Matron. He may be blind.”
“Then he may have to have his eyes opened Master Sergeant. Now shush, let Grim have his say.” The Mother Matron ordered her leader of the guard to silence.
Grim walked over to look out the flap at the milling people, going around in turmoil over the earlier announcement. They went from fire to fire in fear, seeking the comfort of one another. Yet, here stood one that did not fear because he did not believe in the Underworld. How does one get someone to believe in something they cannot see. If they had never seen a desert, how do you explain it? If they have never seen snow, how do you explain solid water? He nodded his head in acknowledgment of what had to be done. You threw them in a damn snowdrift, that’s how.
He stalked over to Faldo, “So you say if you can see evidence of the existence of the Underworld, you might believe. Am I correct?” He asked in a dangerous tone. His deep baritone muffled by the surrounding fabric.
“Yes but since you technically have to be dead, a female, or well, who you claim to be, you can’t. Since I don’t fit in any of those three categories, I think we can safely put that one down.” Faldo turned confidently with his back to the Grim as if the conversation was at an end. He looked with sadness at the pile of the dead that had been brought into the Temple for the necromancers to care for. “Poor Rufus, I wish he hadn’t died. He was a good guard. I will never forget the corset incident-“
The Grim came up behind Faldo and laid a hand on his head giving a low mumble. Light emitted from Faldo’s eyes as the Power of the Grim came upon him. A scream issued from his lips and he collapsed to the floor in a tumbled heap before the bodies. For a few moments, he looked like one of the corpses on the stack. His complexion turned a grey, pale cast and when combined with his wounds from the previous day, only the slight trembling distinguished him from the deceased.
“Arise, Faldo, Look upon Rufus and see his soul. Then look upon my firstborn Son, Baine, who comes to report where more of our treasured dead is.” The Grim commanded Faldo.
Faldo raised his head off the floor, and his eyes bulged wide. He sat up and scooted backward on the seat of his pants in fear, staring at the skeletal reaper who had just walked up to the Grim.
“Do you still doubt Faldo. Are you still one whose faith does waver and will falter in the time of need? Or will you listen willingly to what I need of?” Grim asked the man menacingly. Faldo still had yet to regain his voice merely nodded his head rapidly in acceptance. “Good. I am glad we came to terms. Baine, go back to the city and delay your report till later.”
“I just got here,” the reaper protested, “there are souls and bodies that need tending. That is our duty to them. Remember that is my punishment to that you have condemned me.”
“Go reaper!” The Grim said pointing his hand out the door as a gust of wind from the incoming storm caught the flap. The Brazier flames flickered, and Baine bowed haughtily and backed out giving murderous looks at the Father.
“Now Faldo get up off the floor for Order’s sake. You will catch a cold down there. I can’t have you joining the pile there, now can I?” The Grim said gesturing with his hand at the shaking bravado, who was in shock, towards a chair. Wallace came forward with a smile and helped him up and sat him at the table. He handed him his half-full wine leather at his side and whispered something in the young man’s ear, giving him a soft pat on the back.
Faldo uncorked the leather and drank deeply, the strong wine bringing back color to his cheeks. The immortal turned back and smiled, greatly pleased his commands where followed.
“Good I knew you could take it.” The Grim came over to stand before Faldo, “I need you, young man. You are special, more than you know. Do you know much about sorcery? How they gain power and the Purposes?”
Faldo spoke shakily, “I know enough of sorcery to stay away from it. I know it works and that is enough for me. Anytime Damon and I were doing a job, and suspected sorcerers were eliminated. No questions or hesitations.”
“That would probably be why you yet live.” The Grim nodded approvingly, “A sorcerer is limited at first to the energy that his soul contains at birth. To cast his energy, he must give the energy Purpose, either Chaos or Order. Chaos has two different sects of sorcerers, healers who do not practice inheritance and sorcerers, who do. Order only has necromancers, and I know you know how I feel about that practice.”
Faldo nodded, “Yes when I was a boy, mother used to take me to Temple in Doldrom. They did speak quite often about any postponement of the Judgement as heresy.”
“Well, the Temple today does take it more seriously than I do, one way or the other, souls do eventually make it home. There is a natural barrier placed inside the body, to where it can only hold so much energy before it will disintegrate. The most any sorcerer has been able to hold to date has been twelve including their own. You are a special case though.” The Grim was interrupted by both Faldo and Jen laughing.
“What?” Grim asked.
“Nothing, Jen has been telling me I am a ‘special case’ since I was three.” Faldo chuckled a few more times eyeing Jen.
“Well, not in that way, but you are. Your body, your vessel can hold more energy than that of any mortal ever made. You were born with a special purpose. You were born to inherit my power for a time. You, Faldo, will become my First Disciple.”
Faldo’s head jerked up to lock eyes with the Grim, both eyes burning. Faldo slowly stood to his feet coming to move in front of the Grim. The Grim always seemed larger than life but seeing Faldo in front of him, Jen realized that her nephew had him on size. Faldo’s hands were flexing angrily as he spoke and his face slowly turned colors.
“I thought I heard you say that not only did you want me to become involved with the one thing I despise, religion but then you want to give me the one thing that I hate more than that Sorcery. Did I get that right?” Faldo drilled angrily. Wallace came to his feet to grab Faldo, and the Grim raised a hand to stop him.
“Actually I think you got that perfect, but you see I don’t want, I will have. If I don’t, I will have the mercy on you, here and now, to kill you and save what will happen if you cannot bear my power. For if you cannot, then Damon will not succeed in returning me to The Underworld in three years and the Seed of Destruction makes it there. After that, this world will turn into the Planes of Chaos incarnate, and I will spare at least one soul that.” The Grim said firmly, his red eyes never leaving Faldo’s blue ones.
“Why don’t you give the power to your Heir? Why two vessels. Answer me that first before we have this execution.” Faldo said, his voice not losing its edge.
Jen came forward and laid a hand on each’s arm. They both turned there heads to look down at her as she held them with her green eyes, “Faldo, Damon can’t use sorcery at all. He doesn’t believe in two Purposes. Otherwise, to Damon, there is no black or white, there is only the bleak grey of the world in his eyes. You know black and white, good and evil. Sure, there is a grey area for you, but there is a total black and total white too. You can use sorcery. You two are two beings with the same Purpose,”
Faldo’s anger seemed to fade and resolve faltered. It wasn’t that Order needed him or that the Grim commanded him to be. It was Damon would need him; he was his brother. Faldo wasn’t sure if his father or brothers made it out of the city, but the big man knew his real family did. He would need Faldo and Damon’s newly made wife would need a safe world to raise his child.
“Ok, how long is this service for?” Asked Faldo deflated now.
“Why Faldo, service to me is a lifetime, but I will need my power back in three years.” The Grim said with a small smile.
“I was afraid of that,” Faldo muttered.
“Don’t worry the job perks are excellent. Now, hold still this won’t hurt a bit.” The Grim said as he laid his hand on Faldo’s heart. A blinding light seared his mind, and the last thing he could remember was hearing a cold winters wind blowing.
Outside the tent, Baine almost wanted to shout in triumph. His father was now as powerless as that useless mortal he tried to call an heir. The original reaper laughed as he walked towards the city to find more souls. Tomorrow night, he would find out if he were truly free now.
Jen and Isobelle watched the morning break with their husband as the light slowly grayed. The snow had picked up in intensity through the night. The Grim looked out on his final morning with a small tremble of fear for the first time in his existence. He felt powerless now that he had transferred every last shred of energy to the now sleeping Faldo. To be sure, he didn’t think the mortal would take all of it. No vessel ever created should have been able to. He shook his head weakly. He was certain Order had a finger in this one. It was to well fabricated to be of mere circumstance. They or it had set it in motion some four hundred and fifty thousand years ago when out of pure arrogance, he took it upon himself to make him heirs to a Throne he did not yet fully understand.
Jen laid a comforting hand on him. She had been talking to him most of the night for the plans for this Temple over the next three years. He had left plans with her on its rebuilding, reassuring her that had the entire sorcerer council gathered together on the bluff surrounding Tharpe, they could not directly destroy the Portal. It was still there. He spotted Damon trudging through the ankle-deep snow towards the guard line to talk with the Sergeant on duty.
The Grim had left instructions that Damon be let in should he show. The Grim stood and stretched, shedding his blanket. He needed to keep up some kind of image. Til this afternoon, he was still the Grim after all. The only ones who knew he lost his powers were sworn to absolute secrecy. Damon cleared his throat as he came in and looked down at Faldo with a raised eyebrow.
“He had a tough night,” The Grim said with a deep, tired chuckle, “He had a lot to take in. What can I Do you for this morning?”
“What did you mean yesterday when you said you already had a soul on the way for my baby?” Damon asked worriedly.
“One of my many jobs, Damon, is to make sure that the infants that are born that make the eighth day get souls.” He explained, “I may be disappearing by the end of the day, but I will make sure my grand-baby has a soul.”
Damon paced once or twice the length of that room of the tent and stopped by the glowing brazier. His face went ashen as he turned with realization, the paleness set in stark contrast with the dark hair. The Grim nodded at him.
“You mean none, no souls at all? What about all the babies who are born?” He asked horrified, his hands trembling a little.
“I do have some of what I call pure souls, like the one that is one it’s the way for your baby. They must be used sparingly for those cases that are an absolute necessity but for the most part.” The Grim turned and walked to look upon his creation and continued with great sorrow in his voice, “All the children of second-man who are born will seem fine for a little after the eighth day but soon they will dwindle and die. To exist on this plane, it requires both body and soul and without one or the other you die.--” the Grim turned and gave his son a wry smile, “--I would be the perfect example of that one, to the great irony of it all.”
“But what of all those that just died and all those who dwell in the Underworld, can’t they just be reborn?” He almost pleaded. To him, an expecting father, it seemed the ultimate horror to think of watching your infant die and not know why.
The Grim sighed, “I wish it were that easy. The soul will not accept a new body until its memory has been erased. One of the many duties of the caregiver to this world is to be its ultimate memory. I remember everything that has happened since creation to everyone. Every pain, every wrong, every triumph, I know them all. No one for the next three years can fulfill that role. There will be no hope of rebirth. I fear it will come to be known as the barren years.”
“Which is all the more important reason for you to succeed Damon,” Jen came forward to put her hand on his forearm and then looked at her nephew sleeping, “Many are making tremendous sacrifices to see you there.”
“What do we tell the people when they come to us. When we can no longer hold the Ceremony of the Soul?” Isobelle broke her silence from her spot at the door.
“I will take care of that today. I am sorry for that announcement last night. It was foolish of me. Sometimes I have so little contact with mortals; I forget how to communicate delicately with them.” The Grim shook his head sadly as he paced back towards the door flap, “They deserve to know the truth.”
“What are we to do to get the Master of the Underworld back?” Damon asked, all pretense of doubt gone in him.
“You met Baine, yes? Well, I have seven other ‘Seeds’ around the world. You are the true Seed of Grim, but one of your brothers is the true Seed of Destruction. He will be your contender to the Throne. You must somehow find out which it is and find a way to stall him. The Sorcerer’s here in the East will impede your progress, whether or not he is on this continent. I would suggest getting the East back under control to allow easier movement.”
Damon came to stand by his father and listened to what he had to say. He clapped the bigger man on the shoulder and headed back out into the snow and back to the tent city.
The weary Grim turned to his wives, “Can you summon a meeting mandatory to all citizens. Tell Wallace, and that man will have them here even if it is by sword point.”
ns 15.158.61.48da2
