1

“What happened?” Elwin demanded as they hurried back to the rambling house that he and his brother called home. It was a disjoined building, as if later additions were added haphazardly.

Elwin eased the watch out of his pocket and checked it. It was ten to four, late afternoon.

“Just now,” Rith said. “I went to check on her after working in the field. Well, she was shouting, like she was all mazy or something! Elwin, I didn’t know what to do! I tried to calm her down, but she kept asking for you!” Rith’s eyes darted around and he couldn’t stop wringing his hands.

It was obvious that Rith did not know what to do even though he longed to do something, Elwin surmised. Of course, she had asked for me. I’m the eldest in the family. Elwin knew that the eldest son, he had power over the whole family including his mother.

He slipped the watch back into his pocket.

The homestead was large and long made from wide cedar planks with a thatched roof. It sagged a bit from lack of care over the years. The field work had just been too busy in recent years. There were several acres that needed to be tilled between the just the two of them, leaving little time to repair it. The small brick chimney was puffing out white wisps of smoke.

“Did she say why?” Elwin questioned.

“No, but I started a fire and put a kettle on. Maybe a nice herbal tea will make her feel better!” Rith said hopefully.

“Let’s hope so,” Elwin said, but he did not believe it. Elwin considered himself a realist. His heart was filled with bitterness. He had no hope that his mother would survive much longer.

The two brothers entered the house threw the back door and immediately went to their mother’s bedside. She was resting in the room closest to the kitchen and common area. The room was barren with dull grey plastered walls, devoid of the frescos that normally covered the walls inside the more affluent Verantian homes. Only an old bed, a rickety chair and table with a bowl of cold water stood in the room.

She did not look well. Her whole body was sweating right through her old night gown which she wore all the time. In the last week, she hadn’t left the bed at all. Her face was pale and the eyes were sunken and dark, making her head look more like a skull. There were strange dark spots on her face and hands. It was hard to imagine that she was a woman of only forty years. She looked twice that age now.

Rith sat in the only chair in the room next to the bed and kept his hands over his mouth hiding his fearful expression. His eyes were red and swollen already as he tried to fight back the tears.

Elwin had already accepted the fact that his mother was going to die a week ago. He knew Rith was going to take it hard, but he was not prepared for this scene of insanity.

“Elwin!” His mother’s throat was raspy with the effects of the plague. She choked, but fought it back, regaining her voice.

“Yes, mother?” He said, coming in closer so he could hear her better.

It took a moment for her to gather her strength before she finally said. “I’m going to be gone soon…”

“Don’t say that! Mother, please!” Rith shouted, afraid of her words.

“Listen to me boys!” She yelled over her younger son’s protests.

Elwin leaned in a bit closer. She suddenly reached out, gripping his rough shirt tightly. Elwin was shocked. She pulled him closer with strength that he did not expect her to possess given her condition.

“We’re listening mother,” Elwin whispered.

“When I’m gone, it will just be the two of you,” she said in a steady voice of rehearsed speech. “I want you to promise me something!”

“Of course, anything!” Rith spoke for both of them.

“Promise me that you’ll leave this place and never come back!” She demanded.

“No, no, no!” Rith said shaking his head. The tears were coming.

“Promise me!” She demanded again. She would not be satisfied until she had her answer.

“Leave the family farm!? Never!” Rith shouted over her commanding voice.

They shouted incoherently at each other much to Elwin’s annoyance. He gave Rith a withering glance. He just wanted him to shut up and listen right now. When he finally did, he quivered in the chair like a child who was not going to get his way.

“This place is death!” She finally screamed, but it sounded like she could have been in great pain. She writhed on the bed still gripping Elwin’s shirt. “If you stay here, then it will be death for you as well. There is nothing here anymore, just ghosts and decay! Do you understand me, boys?”

“We heard you,” Elwin said. “We understand you. Don’t we, Rith?”

Rith merely nodded refusing to look at either of them. He stared blankly at the wall in protest.

She began choking again.

Rith tried to offer her a glass of water, but she batted it away with her free hand. Still, she would not let go of Elwin shirt, despite his attempt to pull back away from her. She only tightened her grip on him.

Elwin could not believe it. Where was she getting this strength from? He wondered.

“Elwin, you must take good care of your brother when I’m gone. He’s not as strong as you,” she said looking disdainfully at the younger brother.

Rith snorted at this comment. He shouted, “Stop talking like that! You will recover! Just like the girl down the road. What was her name? Eva? She got better, didn’t she?”

Rith, she was the only one out of dozens of others, Elwin thought solemnly to himself. He said nothing.

Their mother started choking again.

“This isn’t fair! Why our family?” Rith bemoaned.

“Only the Gods know! Maybe they have good reason!” Their mother replied angrily once she regained her voice.

“I hate the Gods then!” Rith shouted in reply.

“Don’t say that!” Their mother bellowed at him. “Do you want to be cursed?”

“We’re already cursed!” He shouted back.

“He doesn’t mean it mother! It will be alright. I’ll take good care of him, just like you want me to!” Elwin said desperately trying to appease her.

Their mother went quiet. She lay back on the pillow and relaxed her grip on Elwin’s shirt. He freed himself and backed off quickly. She lay there breathing very heavily, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Elwin knew that neither of them meant what they said. The whole situation was beyond him. Mother was acting crazy, delirious from the fever. This wasn’t like her at all? He thought. It had to be the illness! It was causing her to think mazy thoughts! She was frightened that her boys would be next.

Elwin was pretty sure that his mother had nothing to fear. He didn’t think that he and his brother would get the plague. They would have already had the sickness by now if it was that contagious. He reasoned that they must be immune somehow, for some unknown reason they would probably never get the plague. As their mother had said it herself, only the Gods know.

It was still considered bad luck to curse the Gods. Everybody knew that much. Of course, Elwin was not so superstitious, but he always felt that a person had to be careful how far they pushed their luck. He felt that Rith had a stronger belief in the Gods than he did. He only said such a curse because he was so emotional right now. In a right mind, he would never hate the Gods.

Elwin thought much more like their father. Cool, rational thought, coupled with reason, logic and a strong sense of right and wrong that did not come from the commandments of Gods or the laws of the Verant Empire.

In the strained silence, the two brothers looked at each other.

“You’re the one who wants to leave, not me,” Rith said quietly. His dark eyes were furious.

“Mother’s right. We should leave this place and never come back. What do we have here besides a rickety old farm?” Elwin questioned.

“It’s our farm, Elwin. Why are you so quick to abandon it?” He answered with a question of his own.

“You’re telling me that you don’t long for something more than this?”

“To run off and be an adventurer?” Rith snorted. “Like you and Emerson are planning to do?”

“Why not? You could come with us,” Elwin said. It was part of his plan all along anyway.

“Oh, now you ask me!” Rith replied angrily.

“You can’t run this place alone,” Elwin pointed out, making it very clear that he was, in fact, going to leave once their mother was finally gone to the spirit world.

Rith did not reply. He looked away.

Their mother was still quiet. She said nothing while they talked. She lay still with her eyes closed, still breathing deeply. The air rasping through her lungs.

2

“I’ll get the kettle,” Elwin said. It had been whistling for the last few minutes and it reached the point where Elwin could not take the atmosphere anymore. He had to get out of the room, it was suffocating him.

He went to the kitchen and began to pour out three cups of tea.

Suddenly he was interrupted by the shouts of his brother from the room. The voice was strained and panic-stricken.

Elwin ran to the bedroom.

Their mother was convulsing on the bed violently. Blood was coming from her nose and mouth. Rith tried desperately to hold her down, so she would not hurt herself. Elwin joined him.

Together the brothers tried to get her to calm down, but in a finally fit of agony, she let out a deep moan that seem to come from her very soul and took her final breath.

Her body went limp.

She was no longer breathing.

Elwin checked her pulse. He heart had stopped beating.

He recoiled in horror cupping his hand to his mouth and stepped back until he was against the wall. He slumped down to a sitting position.

Silence dominated the room for what seemed like forever, but it could not have been more than a few minutes. Rith sat on the chair weeping. His arms wrapped tightly around himself. Elwin had not moved from his place against the wall.

Eventually, Elwin rose to his feet. He cleared his mind of all the bad thoughts that had paralyzed him. The fear of death had overwhelmed him momentarily, but he knew that it was only the fear of the unknown. No one knew what happened after death, despite the many theories that the priests may have had.

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“Rith, I need you to put on her best dress. You know the one with all of the flowers…”

“What! Me?” He protested. “I don’t know if I can do this!”

“I won’t have her go to the Gods to face judgment, wearing that dirty old night dress!” Elwin commanded. He did not intend for this to be a suggestion or a request. It was an order. Rith needed something to do.

“What will you do then?” Rith said still resisting the order.

“I’m going to the tavern,” Elwin said coldly.

“Elwin! This is no time for a pint of ale!” Rith shouted angrily.

“I’m not going for a drink, you idiot!” Elwin yelled, frustrated. “There is a priest of the Fire Lord that’s staying there. She needs a proper funeral, tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? That’s not enough time! She has friends and family that will want to say good-bye!” Rith protested.

“It’s the law, Rith! She died of the plague. The body must be burned on a pyre by the next day,” Elwin replied in a much calmer voice. He did not really agree with the law either, but it was for the benefit of everyone. Preventing the plague from spreading was important, even if people did not really understand how it was spread.

“Fine!” Rith finally relented. “Do what you must, but don’t take too long. I don’t want to be left alone in the house right now.”

“The village is only a mile away. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

3

Elwin walked what felt like the longest mile he had ever walked in his life. His feet felt like cement and every step towards the tavern took almost all his strength. He did not even look up to admire the view of the setting sun across the open fields where the wheat and barley would grow high in the summer. A chilling wind had come down from the north and Elwin wrapped his traveling cloak tightly around him and pulled his hood up to protect his face. He encountered no one, the road was deserted. Most people were in the comfort of their homes, eating dinner by their hearth.

Before long he could see the small buildings huddled together forming the center of the village. They were old wooden structures, weathered yet study. He walked down the broad street until he reached the great inviting structure at the center of the hamlet. He looked up at the worn, but familiar sign which proclaimed this place to be the Old Oak Tavern. It bore a crudely drawn picture of an oak tree, sacred in these parts. It was the largest building in Salome Hollow, the only one with three stories that overshadowed the other squat buildings surrounding it.

The boards creaked with age as he walked up the stairs and into the tavern. It was quiet that evening, but a few people were inside drinking ale at the bar of the great common room dominated by a warm glowing fireplace.

“Ah, my dear boy, Elwin! Will it be your usual today?” The large and gruff looking barkeeper enquired from behind the bar. He cleaned mugs absently with a large dish towel. His broad smile was concealed behind a thick black beard.

Elwin stared at him but said nothing.

He knew his emotional state must have been plain as day upon his face because the barkeeper said. “It’s your mother?”

Elwin merely nodded.

The Barkeeper gave him a grave look of an unspoken understanding. Salome Hollow was a small tight-knit community. It was no secret that Elwin’s mother was ill. “He’s upstairs, third door on the left,” the barkeep told him in a hushed respectful tone.

The common room went completely silent, every eye was turned towards him. These days in the village a priest was only need for one thing. In the last two years, dozens of people had been taken by the plague, sometimes one or two a week. The hamlet was depleted and broken. The faces staring at Elwin in the room were poor and hopeless.

Elwin kept thinking to himself that his mother was right, there was nothing here anymore.

Elwin followed the barkeeper’s directions. Ascending the stairs, he came upon the heavy wooden door of the rented room. With a heavy sigh, Elwin knocked loudly on the door.

The man who answered was old with grey hair and a long beard. He wore light swirling crimson robes, customary for a priest of the Fire Lord. It was the main religion in the Empire, or at least the one most people believed in. Why was it that priests always seemed to be old men? Elwin wondered as he stared into the man’s genteel face and smile. Elwin surmised that the younger students of the Fire Lord were probably studying in a monastery somewhere or practicing in some massive temple in a major city. The largest of them all being the Grand Temple of the Fire Lord in the heart of Verant City. It was fabled to be a huge, majestic place with a copper dome. Inside was the tomb of the Fire Lord, the sacred obelisk in which his earthly body was entombed. One day Elwin vowed to see the Temple for himself.

Yet some priests, like the one standing before him, were content to travel the countryside helping smaller places. They practiced the religion in villages that did not have any temples or any permanent priests. In isolated communities like this one, it was hard to find someone who was willing to stay for any length of time. This peculiar priest had been in the village for about three months now. He was content to wait out, what had been a wicked winter, in the warmth of the Old Oak Tavern. Now that spring had come, no one was sure how much longer he would stay before moving on to other communities in the area. Places such as Willowvale, Hunter’s Run, Lola Hills or even Deer Creek were all within ten miles of Salome Hollow and might be in need his services in the coming days.

“What can I do for you, my child?” The old man said in a gentle soft voice after they had stared at each other for a moment. He was a tall slim man with a kindly face and a graceful broad smile beneath his beard.

Elwin quickly explained the situation to the priest.

“I can perform a funeral service tomorrow at noon. Would that be alright with your family?” The priest enquired.

“Well, it’s just me and my brother left, sir. But yes, that would be fine. We’ll wake up early in the morning and build the pyre before you arrive,” Elwin confirmed.

“Excellent, my child. I will keep the ceremony short and simple,” the priest said. “I don’t wish to prolong your pain and lost. Clearly your mother had loyal sons. I’ll mention it in the final words.”

“Thank you, we would appreciate it,” Elwin said.

“Now as you might be aware, it’s customary to give a donation for this service. But if you don’t have any money, I’ll still perform the rites,” the priest said. Salome Hollow was not a wealthy place, it was clear that the priest seemed to understand. He wouldn’t deny anyone last rites no matter how poor they may have been.

Elwin reached into his pocket and pulled out the coins he had taken from the goblin. “Will two gold coins do?”

“Of course!” The priest replied with a broad smile. The priest took the money and squirreled it away in a small purse.

Elwin was glad that he kept the goblin’s money. He told him. “Follow the main road south, about a mile. You’ll come to a small farm. There will be an old sign that says White Birch Farms. That’s the place.”

The priest assured him that he would have no trouble finding the homestead. He said he would arrive before noon. Elwin thanked him for his time and service on such short notice. The priest assured him that it was no trouble at all.

“A priest must always be prepared for such events,” he prattled on assuring Elwin that everything would go smoothly.

Elwin left the tavern without saying another word to anyone. As he trudged back to the farm, he decided that the best thing for him to do was stay busy. It would keep him from dwelling on his sorrow. When he got home, he told his brother that he would be out in the yard.

Despite the cold bitter wind and bleak darkness of the night, Elwin began to build the funeral pyre. It would be used to free their mother’s soul from her body and send it up towards the heavens. It was traditionally believed by Verantians that the soul was trapped in the body after death, until it was released. This meant burning the body so the soul could ascend to the heavens to be judged by the Gods. To bury a body was a supreme insult, something that only druids did with their dead. Druids believed that it returned to soul to the earth where it belonged. Elwin’s family were traditional believers in the Fire Lord. Every member had been burning upon death. The ashes were entombed in a small family crypt at the back of the property.

Elwin worked hard stacking up the wood for the funeral. He toiled away at it until he was so tired that he had to quit and go to sleep. His brother was already sleeping when he came in. He checked on his mother’s room and saw her lying in the bed wearing her best dress as Elwin had ordered. Her arms were folded across her chest. She looked so peaceful, as if merely sleeping.

That night Elwin went to sleep instantly, but it was not a peaceful sleep. He had shapeless nightmares involving goblins and the Reaper of Souls. He saw death, blood, a massive shape drifting threw the skies above and other oddities from his own mind. His sleep was fretful and broken.

4

The next day Uskker came over to help the boys build the pyre, but he was surprised to find it was already finished. He had come over to check on them the night before while Elwin was off talking to the priest. Rith had of course, explained what happened. Uskker thought he might help them in the morning, but that was clearly unnecessary.

Uskker had told a few of the neighbors what had happened the night before at White Birch Farms. By the time the priest had arrived later that morning, about two dozen people had gathered for the funeral rites. Word had spread quickly.

The priest did not arrive alone. A few people who lived near the tavern came with him including the barkeeper’s niece. She was a plain looking girl about Rith’s age who wore a burgundy dress. It was the closet thing she had to the blood red that was traditionally worn to a funeral. She handed Elwin a large jug of ale which weighted heavily in his hands.

“This is a gift from my uncle,” she said handing it over. She stared at the ground unable to look him in the eye.

Some people had trouble dealing with death and funerals, Elwin thought. Still, it must have exhausted her to carry the heavy jug for a mile!

“Thank you and please thank your uncle for me,” he said graciously with a nod of his head.

She bowed silently and swept a curly brown lock from her face. It was still a bit windy that day, but not as bitter as the night before. A warm breeze was coming up from the south that day.

While people were milling about the yard greeting each other, Elwin saw his friend Emerson arriving with his younger sister Gloria. He made a point of going over and speaking to them.

Elwin hadn’t seen his friend in a few days. Emerson’s older brother, Fabian, was back from the war and there was much talk at their household about what happened over the year he was gone. So, it was no surprise that Emerson hadn’t been around in the last few days. They would be anxiously discussing news from the Empire and celebrating his brother’s return unharmed. However, it was obvious that word of Elwin’s mother’s death had moved swiftly through the community that morning since Emerson was there with his sister to represent his family.

“Mother and father would have been here themselves,” Emerson explained. “But one of the horses is giving birth today.”

Emerson was as tall as Elwin. He had large broad shoulders much like his father Emery. The two boys were the same age and Emerson’s family lived just a half mile down the road. They naturally became best friends, spending much time together plotting their futures and practicing sword play. Emerson’s light blonde hair was cut short in a military style. His steel blue eyes bore into Elwin’s dark ones. They embraced like old friends.

“The important thing is you’re here,” Elwin told him. He could care less if Emerson’s parents were here, it was only important to Elwin that Emerson be here. He needed his friend’s strength to get through the day.

Of course, Emerson’s gorgeous sister always put a smile on his face and today was no exception. Elwin considered her to be more beautiful than Emerson’s three other sisters combined. A year younger than Emerson and the baby of the family, she had most of the same features as Emerson, tall, thin, whitish-blonde hair with steel grey eyes and a fair complexion. Elwin thought she looked elegant and alluring in her dark red funeral dress. She moved in close and wrapped him in a tight embrace. She whispered in his ear. “I’m so sorry about your loss, Elwin.”

Elwin managed to mutter thank you and he shifted uneasily as she released him. Gloria always made Elwin nervous whenever she was around. His palms would get sweaty and he would forget what he was thinking or doing. Her beauty, her soft smile, her pleasant demeanor, Elwin considered her to be the perfect woman.

“Hey, is that the tavern owner’s niece?” Emerson said peering through the crowd of people and noticing her talking with Rith.

“You’re not going to harass girls at a funeral!” Gloria scolded.

Emerson scowled back at her. “I just want to say hello!” he protested.

“I know what you’re like!” she said, giving him a knowing gaze.

Emerson snorted at her and excused himself. He moved off to talk with Rith and the girl.

“I’m sorry Elwin,” Gloria said soothingly. “He doesn’t deal with death very well. He’s not very good at funerals.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from him,” Elwin replied with a broad smile.

Gloria sighed. “Ever since Fabian came back from the war, he’s been… excitable. I think he wants to leave home soon, if father will allow it.”

“I know. I hope to go with him, Rith too. Mother told us to leave before she died,” Elwin explained.

“Really? She said that?” Gloria said in surprise.

Elwin nodded.

“But what would you boys do? Where will you go?” Gloria questioned.

“I don’t know. We’re thinking about adventuring,” Elwin revealed.

“Wow, that sounds so exciting!” she said. “You have to see Verant City. I always wanted to go there. Father would kill me if I left though!”

“He’s not going to give up until you’re married and producing grandchildren,” Elwin pointed out.

“I know!” She sighed heavily. Gloria was the only one of Emerson’s four sisters that had not married yet. She was very headstrong and had thus far resisted her father’s attempts to arrange a marriage for her. It was not an easy feat. Emery himself was also very stubborn.

5

Eventually, the priest came up to Elwin and told him that it was almost noon.

Elwin felt that Rith had done a great job of dressing up their mother and told him so earlier that morning. She had looked much better than the night before. The signs of death had only started to creep in, but no one would really notice since she would be completely wrapped in a white blanket as tradition dictated.

Once everyone was gathered, the body wrapped in the thick white sheet was brought out by Uskker and another neighbor who placed her gently upon the pyre. The wind whipped at the blanket making it flap violently. To Elwin it was a reminder of the last torturous conversation the brothers had with their mother.

The priest kept the funeral rites simple and to the point. He opened with the usual dialogue on the belief of the temple and the teachings of the Fire Lord. A few other people made short speeches about their mother, but neither brother wanted to get up and say anything. The moment was simply too raw, they could not bring themselves to speak in front of all of those people.

The priest concluded the rites by saying. “Although I didn’t know her personally, it’s obvious to me that she was a caring and loving mother of two handsome sons. The Fire Lord tells us that when we die, we go to the Council of Gods who shall judge our souls, for they see who we truly are. The evil are condemned to the torturous oblivion of the abyss, but the good shall be rewarded with a seat among the Gods and feasting for all eternity. I’m confident that this woman we commit to judgment shall be rewarded generously for being a loving and caring wife and mother.”

The priest poured some special oils down the length of the body. He then laid incense sticks upon the blanketed body as it lay on top of the pyre. “Let us pray for her swift ascendancy to the heavens.”

That was the signal that the rites were concluded and the body could now be burned.

Some of the locals who knew her well had tears in their eyes. They all joined hands forming a circle around the pyre and prayed together as it was lit. Within minutes, it was a towering inferno warming them all against the spring wind. Before long the pyre was reduced to burning hot coals, smoke and ash.

With the service concluded, the priest gave the two boys his condolence and headed back to the inn. The friends and neighbors that had gathered that afternoon, eventually dispersed back to their own homes. Most hoped it would be a very long time before they would have to have a funeral in their own backyards.

Once Elwin and his brother were finally alone with Emerson and his sister, they went into the house and opened the large jug of ale. Elwin poured each of them a large mug of the fine brew. They made a toast to the deceased and then spent the rest of the day drinking the bottle dry.