I blinked hard. “Well, for one thing, he’s already managed to kill Ahrad.”
“So? That doesn’t mean he vill succeed completely. Besides, how do you think sitting here vill stop the ‘curse’ he placed on you? Suppose some dark elves vere to attack us at nyight and you vere still sitting here feeling sorry for yourself. How foolish would it be for you to have done nyothing? The blood of the elves lost to your self-pity. Erland, it vould seem you are nyot afraid of your actions leading to the death of your friends, but are afraid vhat you do will nyot be enough. I’ve heard vhat happened vith the elderbear. You did all you could to—”
“Just stop there,” I interrupted, thrusting my hand into her face. “If your idea of comforting me involves reminding me of all the death on that night, you might as well be forcing all the agony felt by that elderbear onto me in kind.”
She pulled her head away from my hand and stood up. “Very vell,” she said with a nod, “I’m sorry if it vas too soon to bring that up. I vill leave you alone.” Alodia then walked away to the woods. Just where the rock of the cave transitioned back into grass, she stopped and turned around for a moment. “But one more thing. If it is nyot too soon for it, Ahrad’s funeral vill be held today just after high nyoon. It vill be vhere he vas ki—you know vhere I think, just as a forvarning.”
After her respectful acknowledgment of my distress, I realized I was more than a little rude to her. So I stood up and walked toward her. “I’m sorry for responding like that. It’s just I’m still a little tender about that. Thank you for telling me about the funeral regardless.”
Alodia smiled just a bit. “Nyo vorries. I understand,” she said and then continued on her way. I kept my hand in my pocket as I watched her walk away. As I did this, I felt a small pebble in it, reminding me about yet another thing from that encounter with Aegir.
“Before you go,” I stopped her once again, “could you look at one thing? Chances are you won’t know what it is, but it’s still worth a shot.”
She turned around and said, “Vhat?” She then walked back to me.
I pulled the rune-carved stone out of my pocket and handed it to her, the glow now gone from it. “When I spoke with Aegir, he showed me this stone and told me it had something to do with my family. Do you know what it means?”
She took the stone into her own hand and studied it, but she returned it very quickly and shook her head. “I have nyo idea, I have nyot studied runes. The only person who I can think of who would knyow is Solas.”
“And there’s no way he would be willing to help me out, is there?” I said, a hint of disappointment carried in my tone. “Thanks anyway.” Alodia nodded and then went back to heading to wherever she was going.
I looked across the forest again, trying to spot just where that would be in the distance. His funeral! I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten that. Actually, why wouldn’t it have happened already? Back home, he would have had the stones stacked atop of him already. Yet the alfar were only getting to the ceremony now? It didn’t make any sense. Maybe the alfar just had different things they need to prepare. Father always told me the Agrians did their funeral rites in ways aberrant to ours, so why wouldn’t a group of beings from an entirely separate realm?
I lifted the cup, holding it up to the sun and looking at the bottom of it. “What exactly is the fate of an alf after death, anyway? Now that I think of it, is this going to even be a normal one? Surely, most alfar aren’t killed by drowning, it’s probably going to be even as merry an occasion as if someone had just been murdered…”
“Who else is going to be there? Probably just about everyone who knew him better than I did. Do I even deserve go knowing that?” Feeling parched, I lifted the cup to my lips, feeling somewhat disappointed when I was reminded it was emptied out. The lake was the only way to refill it, which filled me with dread of what might be there. “It’s probably going to hurt me a lot, attending his wake where he fell asleep.” With the cup in hand, I went to the lake for a refill. For the first time in a long while, the lake seemed completely tranquil, the water snakes and other creatures that swarmed within it were no longer there. As I scooped up water, ripples flew out and needles of water climbed up to the skies, but the spirits of sea-slain sailors didn’t shout in maddened fury at me. When I raised the cup to my mouth and drank, the foul taste of blood flooded my mouth. Despite this, I drank two more cups full. “Perhaps I will go,” I said to myself after the third, the flavor dissipating.
Around when the sun had reached its peak, I started my excursion to that tributary. The way was quiet, quieter than any other winter day I’d known before. Chirping birds, the scurry of a squirrel, the whine of insects, none of these filled the ambiance as I walked the trail, but they weren’t expected anyway during this time of year. The wind, that solitary moan in the distance, that playful sculptor of snow, that was what I couldn’t hear anywhere. It didn’t dart past my ears to make them red with cold nor did it make the branches above me crash together. The lack of a breeze made me even more morose. Now it felt like all of nature had taken the time to reflect silently to itself and it might just stop to be joyful at all. And why wouldn’t it? A spirit of laughter and jokes had just lost his life. I doubt anything could return to its normal rabble.
As I drew closer, the footprints of others became apparent in the snow. There were three groups of footprints, but the group to my near right was composed of two sets and not one like the others. Judging from how it took some time before all of them met in the same place, the owner of each set each came from a different direction. They were also smaller and shallower than mine, so they either were those of children or alfar. I thought it was more likely they were alf footprints, but it didn’t truly matter. They all headed in the same direction I was going, and I would know exactly who made them in a little bit.
My guess on who it was, was indeed confirmed when I reached the destination. At least three out of four as I could tell at the moment. Kaihar was there, along with some other alf woman and, I regret to say, Reokashothi. The fourth person I could only guess was inside the tent erected on top of the river. All of them wore clothes and dresses made from swirls of red, yellow, orange, and brown; colors I assumed were clothes symbolic of death and autumn to them.
None of them had yet to notice me. Kaihar was kneeling beside the body of Ahrad and a sapling that was not here before, Reo was sitting in front of the tent’s entrance with her head facing down, and the woman turned completely away from the entire scene. The wind returned once again, causing the alf’s hair to flutter over her face. As it rose into the air, she suddenly reminded me of that woman I saw in Ahrad’s dying apparition. Her hair was platinum, and while I didn’t make the connection earlier, and it was braided and longer. Those strands that flew into the air, however, acted just as in the vision, leaving a trail of blurriness behind them which felt as mystical and incomprehensible as when I couldn’t even make out the form of an alf. I wondered if I should ask Kaihar who she was, but he was so engrossed in his silence and holding something over the body, I didn’t wish to disturb him. Instead, I went to speak with her directly.
Reokashothi bobbed her head up and looked at me, her face completely blank if not for the frown. How pitiful this meant our relationship was, that was the friendliest look she ever gave me. “Kaihar, maarika’s here,” she said with still no expression.
He didn’t even flinch at first, and then with a sigh he clenched his fists tenderly. “Is he?” he said as slowly as he rose to his feet. “Then this heavy task is taken from me.” With his hands still held up and closed, he paced over to me. He tried to smile, but it was with great resistance to a sulk. “It is very good to see you’ve recovered enough from the tragedy to attend, Erland. The death of an alf is a very rare thing to be savored by as many as possible…in spite of its bitterness.”
I was unable to look him in the eye. It felt so wrong to be asking who someone was at a time like this now. The ambiguity of who th
at alf was still burned inside of me, so I pressed on to ask. “Kaihar, who is that woman with the platinum hair?”
Kaihar looked over at her, and while shaking his head, he responded, “That is Yantha. She will be performing a…part of the funeral.”
“Which part?”
Once again, Kaihar hesitated to answer. “An important part. But tell me, Erland, did you see anything unusual after Ahrad…died?” He looked down at his hands.
I was surprised by how differently Kaihar was acting. He had been silent about many things before, but I can’t really say he’s ever tried to change the subject like this before. Clearly, he was grieving and talking about Yantha was too painful at the moment, so I humored him. “Yes, I did. There was a strange light that came from his gambantein. When it—”
“Please, do not tell me the rest just yet. Saying these things must come at the end of the rite, and I would rather not know until then.” He opened his hands to reveal the broken cinders and ashes of Ahrad’s gambantein. “When you have said all that you saw, place this under the skin with Ahrad.” With that, he placed the remains into my hands and closed the hands.
I looked back and forth from the remains and the covered body of Ahrad. “What?”
“Erland, this a very sacred par—” Kaihar paused as a beam of light shot out of the top of the tent. He continued to remain silent until someone came out of the tent. At first, he looked just as an alf before Freyr blessed me in the light coming out of the openings. When he stepped out of the light, his misted form started to return to a solid shape. It was indeed Niale. With a bow to his daughter, she entered. “I am sorry, but I must leave now, Erland. Ask Niale what it is you must do, until then, just kneel by Ahrad.” Kaihar then walked to Niale and they began to speak. My teacher made a few gestures to the tent and then to me and Ahrad. Then Niale nodded and allowed Kaihar to vanish into the tent. The chief closed the door behind them and all the light vanished.
With a shout of command from him, Yantha walked to the other end of the tent. Now that I saw her face, I knew she was the alf I saw dancing with Ahrad, with the sole difference of a look of frustration on her brow. “Please,” Niale ordered, “kneel by the body of Ahrad.”
I did as he said and then asked my questions. “Chief sir, this skin, is it from the ranis that…took Ahrad?”
Niale nodded slowly. A quick wave of nausea went over me as the emotional implications from that overcame me. I continued with other questions to distract myself. “Why are Reokashothi and Kaihar in that tent? And what was the light I saw coming from inside? All the alfar that went into it became blurred and like spirits when they were in it.”
“Ah.” Niale sounded surprised, but I couldn’t discern his expression from the other side of the tent. “I expected to hear of what your role will be in this, Erland, but I suppose that would also be a very good thing to ask. To make the answer simple, they are not in the tent at the moment, but on alfheim. Most of the rite must be done on our home realm, under the supervision of our king and kin.”
“But then, why are we here?”
“Because we must be. By our custom, we must send him to the afterlife by recalling what he has left behind.” He then stood up so I could see him over the tent. “I am to relate to the body he leaves by placing the cloak of his birth in his resting place.” He pointed to Yantha with his entire hand. “Yantha is to relate to his legacy and place something symbolic of it in the burial pit. And you, Erland, are to relate to his wishes. It is your task that is most important in this rite. You must tell all what Ahrad’s greatest regret was. By telling us this, we all must respect it and try to grant the wish as best we can.”
So, that was the task Kaihar gave to me. But I didn’t know Ahrad for that long. How could I tell everyone what his greatest regret was? “Niale,” I protested, “why would Kaihar tell me to do this? He’s known Ahrad much longer than I have, and I only knew him as much as he would make people laugh.”
Yantha exhaled violently, but Niale ignored her. “But that is not what is needed. What you are thinking of is legacy, not regret. The thing needed for your part can best be done only by one who actually saw the deceased die. Whenever an alf dies, it is said the witnesses will be given a vision in some way, something that does not state it clearly but also makes evident what an alf’s greatest regret or what they held dearest was. Kaihar has told me you have seen such a vision and so concedes the role to you.”
I looked down at the gambantein and began to think to myself, “That can’t possibly be true. The vision I saw was made by this wand. It wasn’t a vision or even a dream. But why else would it have triggered at that moment? If it was just spitting out the illusions stored inside, the image would have been much more violent and chaotic. What possible role could Yantha have then?” I looked back up and decided to ask her, “Yantha, how did you know Ahrad?”
Once again, she grunted, but this time she rose to her feet and almost threw the stone in her hand at me. After restraining herself that much, she answered, “Don’t ask me that like it’s a good thing, Midgardian. You may think he was a good and lovable alf, but you don’t know him the way I do. Why, if you knew how he—”
“Silence, Yantha,” Niale shouted, immediately causing her to quiet. “Please, Erland, neither you nor Yantha are allowed to speak of these things until it is your due place to. In order for his spirit to be truly put at peace, his birth, legacy, and wishes must be said in that order and thus symbolize his path through life. Only I may speak freely now, for his life begins with what I have to say and no disruption can ensue from that.”
“With all due respect, Niale, I don’t think I can fulfill my task without her speaking.”
He shook his head. “And that is where you are wrong. The vision bestows all the knowledge needed upon the witness. You and only you are allowed to influence its interpretation. If you do not know now, then think until you have reached a conclusion.” He lowered his head and seemed to almost bow to me, and then he sat back down.
“What could it mean then?” I asked myself. “What does Yantha have to do with this all? Her face was the most detailed thing about that vision, it must be about her. But what of the grass? That too was well-designed. No, that wouldn’t do. ‘My last and only regret in life is that I didn’t water the grass enough’? Ahrad was weird, but not that weird. His last regret had to be about Yantha. He looked happy in the vision, maybe he’s content and just wants her to live well? No, that can’t be it either. It’s obvious she doesn’t like Ahrad at all. He must have done something bad to her and he wants to know if she forgives him.” I nodded in agreement with the voices in my head. That must have been it.
There was still a long time to wait until the others returned from Alfheim (as I guessed they would have to), so I spent the rest of that time inspecting Ahrad’s body and thinking of how I would phrase the request of forgiveness. Of course, there wasn’t really much for me to really inspect, his body was wrapped in the ranis skin. This must have been what the funeral was waiting on. No wonder the stench of tanning was in the air so much lately. Bumps in the hide revealed where his head was. It was hard to describe just how much will it took to not disturb the wrappings to put my hand on his head.
Light began to shoot from the top of the tent again, casting long, golden shadows over the hide. Some extra details were revealed to me in that light, namely holes in the skin. Just like I’d expect from nails, they appeared torn and in the semblance of a crescent. There was no doubt about it now; this was the skin from the ranis that killed him. I leapt back and turned my gaze away from it. I felt sick just being near that thing’s remains.
Kaihar, who had just exited from the tent, took notice of my shock. “I am sorry if the burial wrappings disturb you, Erland, but the ranis also has died and must be respected.” He held his hand out sympathetically. “The time has come for the telling of his life now. Please try to remain calm during it.”
After him came Reokashothi and
after her followed many more alfar. None of their faces seemed familiar, but all of them wore the same autumn colors. The last to exit broke this pattern; she had more colors to her dress. Her cuffs and hem were black with golden lace, which gave way to purple, which gave way to lighter and lighter blues, and then a flurry of autumn, and then green at the neck. In her hands was a silver flute. All the alfar but her took their places to my right, and she instead went to my left. She lifted the flute to her lips and began to play. It was a slow, deep song, but complex and richly mournful.
As she played, Niale walked up to Ahrad’s body and spoke to the group with the bloodied cloth raised in the air. “As many of us here know, Ahrad did not live on Mannheim at the beginning of his life. Just as any other alf, he was born on alfheim and lived his life there until Freyr commanded him elsewhere. There is not much to be said for this time of his life at all. At least, not anything I know much of. It was not until he came to guard the castle that once was carved into the mountain here that I met him.” He lowered the cloth to look at it himself. “As tenet in lieu of Freyr, I am supposed to tell the stories of his youth. I cannot accomplish that, for I only know him as an adult. All I am allowed to say of that is he guarded the forest well and cunningly. That having been said, I shall rest the swaddling cloth of his birth upon his body.” With nothing left to say, he knelt and laid the cloth on him, making sure all of the wrinkles were smoothed out before he left.
The music raised an octave as Yantha approached the corpse. She didn’t say anything for a minute or two, instead glaring down Ahrad. She turned to the crowd and raised the stone into the air just as Niale had done with the cloth. One major thing was changed with her, as she promptly threw the stone directly at Ahrad’s chest. The music player stopped playing at the expression of rage, but Yantha remained composed as she turned to the flutist. “Did you really expect less of me? You, Evern, the true witness to Ahrad and my marriage of all alfar, surely know just why I did that. Before our unity, I was his obsession. Oh, but how short that was. That day Freyr commanded him to reside in this realm, he lusted after the beauty of his home. It was this that made him escape into the mastery of illusions, to delude himself into seeing that which he longed to see again.” She picked up the rock and brushed her hand across the smooth side. “By his petty escapism came the destruction of that castle he was sworn to protect. Kaihar, you are my witness to this. His foolishness and negligence is to blame for all the bloodshed of the aftermath. Legacy? The blood dripped and smeared on the trail we call his life is his legacy. This stone is the rubble of that palace of old and symbolizes his memory, as Ahrad, the fool, the liar”—she threw the rubble again against his chest—“and oath breaker. And we all know what the fates of oath breakers is.” She began to laugh in the face of the others’ repulsion. “If he is not toiling forever in the halls of Aegir, then he is swimming a torrent of venom until Ragnarok in Helheim.”
Across the Kolgan Sea Page 12
