The Reaper Realm: Threads of Compassion

by K. A. Lentz

  Pyhe returned to Kaiyssa and Tahlan while Dominus hesitantly trailed behind. With a serious… yet happy expression, Pyhe glanced from one to the other as he spoke, “To Japake, time comes meeting your match-set and observe his eyes of truth. You now go, he waits when asked.” Looking at Tahlan as he spoke next, Pyhe’s face turned all the more serious, “By him you live… recall this within. Him you cannot defeat; no chance then, less now. Release your heart to grow elf, and help will bring your house to right. Times move and things reveal, the quicker you go more to know. Take the four now, and meet King in crossing.”

  The haze of each elf stood motionless and silent before Pyhe. Tahlan’s essence grew dark and angry as a thundercloud. Kaiyssa’s began to glow as though she were a vibrant leaf in the summer sun. A war of emotion collided where the two souls met and mingled, yet upon their hands and foreheads blazed small, delicate symbols humming in perfect unison. Able to see the brewing storm within Tahlan, Pyhe sought to calm him.

  With a wide smile the little gnome resounded with hope, “Friends take heart, your struggles lighten and futures feel free. My news your wisdom to see is good. Go now I will, and so you must. Take quick foot and keen eyes!” Spinning on the spot to face a very confused Dominus, Pyhe smiled and said, “Titan should go, she worries at the inn. None leave behind, must go! Farewell!”

  With his usual flair, Pyhe returned to the hole he had sprouted from. Tahlan and Kaiyssa watched him go until the little gnome was nothing more than an ant moving deep within his tunnels leading home. Facing one another the loving couple shared a brief, intimate smile, and then—as if static—the haze of each reached for the other combining their essences into one. They lingered this way for a short time before reluctantly drifting apart. Drinking up a final glimpse of the other in ethereal form, Kaiyssa and Tahlan hesitantly turned to face their respective body and return to the land of the living. Drawn to its home like a tape set on rewind, the energy of each completely returned to its shell in an instant. As the grip of life took hold, both elves sat upright and looked around disoriented until their souls regained control once more. Sounding a bit winded, Tahlan was first to speak to an anxiously pacing Dominus, “My friend, I’m sure… you… heard the… words Pyhe spoke?”

  Stopping mid-stride Dominus looked at Tahlan, a confused expression dominating his youthful features as he answered, “Yes, I heard it and I’m not sure what it all meant. How did he know my lineage? As well as telling us to go to Japake, isn’t that about two months the other direction from Gold Island? Are you sure he isn’t sending us off in favor of this other guy?”

  Tahlan didn’t hesitate to respond, “Pyhe has never spoken false… or led my people astray; I will always trust his council. I now know where my brother’s keeper will be waiting… that is enough. I am leaving after a night’s rest in the forest outside the inn, but then… we travel hard for Japake. That is my path, and it sounds like yours as well. I suggest you listen to the gnome and follow us.”

  Dominus’s eyebrows shot up and his voice broke a little as he parroted in haste, “Gnome?! You’re serious? No! They didn’t get brought over… I thought; how can he be here?”

  Tahlan laughed a little and replied, “Yes that was a gnome, however now we must go. I shall explain the rest of the tale over dinner, my titanous friend.”

  The stout warrior looked sheepish and shy all of the sudden as he mumbled, “Aye, titan.”

  “Fear not, we hold no grudge against your kind. You are, as ever, among friends.” Tahlan assured Dominus as he clapped the downcast warrior on the shoulder. Each dropped the subject there as the trio started their journey back to the inn. Megoth, still immersed in the kill, remained behind to finish the feast he would defend until gone.

  When they arrived Aginaeus wasn’t waiting in the tavern anymore. As the three exited the pub Tahlan and Kaiyssa caught her scent on the evening breeze, churned up with aromas of fire and cooking meat. Fashioning a camp just inside the forest, away from Echo’s gloom, Aginaeus had gotten tired of the tavern and decided to wait in an environment that felt more like home. When the trio approached she refused to ask where they had been, simply listening in silence to their account of recent events. Offering her party portions of dinner, she pulled out her map and settled into a comfortable spot with her laden plate clutched in the other hand. The commanding woman said nothing as she surveyed the wrinkled parchment while absentmindedly ferrying thick stew to her waiting mouth. Taking the hint she was mildly upset, each party member sat in silence as they happily filled their begging bellies.

  Suddenly putting down her plate and standing up, Aginaeus waved everyone around a stump beside the fire and gently spread the map over its rough surface. She pointed at their current location and stated, “If we follow this path south through the forest and then catch a ride on the Kestroth River, we should reach Japake in about one months’ time. I know the Pyhe of whom you speak and I trust him enough to go where he asks.” Facing the weary warrior her tone matched the seriousness of her next statement, “Dominus, you may choose to return to your previous post or press on with us. However, should you decide to stay, allow me to remind you that you’re still under my command and thus… should be informing me of your movements. Make your choice and act accordingly Sir.”

  Having said her piece, she stood back and crossed her arms to ponder the plan once more. Dominus absentmindedly stared at the map, sitting visibly diminished under the mental weight of having disappointed his friend and superior. Tahlan was next to speak, “I believe you are right Commander. It should take us no more than two weeks to reach the river from Echo. If we cut eastward a few days before arriving at the river, we should comfortably bypass a large school of river demons inhabiting the north bend. I estimate it will take us only a few days to construct our watercraft, collect supplies, and be ready to launch. Also, due to a powerful elemental blockade, we will be unable to travel directly into Japake from the river. Instead, we shall need to disembark one valley over and walk the remaining distance into town.”

  The party of four knew this to be their road, but none looked forward to the journey. Not one to linger on the unavoidable, Aginaeus declared, “Alright, our course is set. I suggest we all get some sleep and proceed come dawn.” Adding weight to her words, she rolled out her bed and turned in. Dominus followed suit by installing his bedroll beside the fire and promptly falling asleep. Tahlan and Kaiyssa whispered a goodnight to their sleeping friends before wandering into the surrounding woods to locate their own spot to rest, comfortably away from the smoldering fire. Cradling a sleeping Kaiyssa in his arms, Tahlan sat awake planning for the battle to come.

  Chapter Nine:

  Understandings

  It took Thistle and Miach longer than expected to arrive at Japake. Despite his charge’s energetic enthusiasm to visit the hale-elves, each day Miach found new reasons to procrastinate along the road to a destination he desperately dreaded. It didn’t help that his emotions seemed to have gone haywire, oft times warring between states of worry and anger. As Thistle slept peacefully through the night, Miach would be in a rage over Tahlan’s intolerance, yet come morning the fear of their battle and its consequences dominated his mind. How would the folk living in Japake take to me killing one of their allies? What would Thistle think of me then? What would I think of myself? No matter how hard he tried, he seemed incapable of ridding himself of such thoughts and questions. Upon arrival, two weeks later than planned, the worry within had mounted to such great heights that Miach stopped short of town and paced wide circles in the forest floor. For once, it was Thistle who insisted they press on and face what they had come to do. The apprehensive storm-slave begrudgingly agreed.

  As the pair crested the hill’s apex, dense forest gave way to a lush river valley peppered with wetlands settling in its flats. Nestled along the river, Japake elegantly blanketed both sides of the free-flowing stream. Dotting the landscape down into the valley were exquisitely crafted cobb buildings trimmed with m
atching stone pathways branching like tree roots from the heart of the city. Every structure in town was adorned by a clump of trees to their back and terraced planter beds fanning down the walkways to their front. Punctuating the landscape between houses were intricately carved timbers wrangling in puddles of sand, each neatly combed and decorated with ornately painted pebbles. Some sandboxes contained simple statues of elves while others housed elaborate renderings of strange creatures Thistle had never seen before.

  The spellbound pair gawked their way into the city without a hint of residents within; the only signs of life were families of quail darting through foliage and a few brilliantly colored snakes warming on rocks in the late afternoon sun. In the absence of a welcoming party Miach decided to head inward toward a large obelisk rooted at the center of town. The megalith’s shining obsidian surface gleamed like a beacon above the roofs of every building. Miach and Thistle’s path took a circuitous route through the empty city as their guiding monument continued to grow ever closer. Nearly beneath the massive pillar, Thistle could hear faint sounds of people excitedly giggling and talking. Rounding a large building, the scene that greeted their eyes halted both newcomers in their tracks.

  Fascinating a large group of hale-elves gathered in the square beneath the obelisk, Amy sat like a tiny monument magisterially sitting among them. All ages took turns petting the limited real estate her back and head had to offer their crowd of eager hands. A smile firmly affixed to her doggy face, the happy pug basked in a river of overflowing attention while sampling the early-evening zephyr trailing past her continually sniffing nose. Shifting gears to overdrive as she caught Thistle’s scent, Amy immediately sprang into action leaving a wake of young whimpers and adult “awws” riding the haughty pug’s tailwind. Still charging at Thistle, Amy launched through the air and into the waiting arms of her best friend.

  Miach watched the reunited pair with true happiness in his heart and laughter brightening his eyes. For a minute, he felt totally free in spirit. The feeling gained individuality from all others upon realization of its return; freedom… the pure sensation of being unburdened by life. The storm-slave savored the luxurious feeling for a minute longer before turning his attention to the elves scrutinizing his every move. Reality crashed back as if a tidal wave while he nervously scanned the group hoping Tahlan wouldn’t be among them. In his calm mind he knew; if the obstinate elf had been there, he would have made his presence known much sooner. Satisfied with his search Miach began truly seeing the foreign eyes assessing him. His heart sank as he noticed adults ferrying their children away with expressions of fear etched on their beautiful ebony faces.

  While attempting to contain her very enthusiastic pug, Thistle’s eyes darted around to each curious onlooker with pure excitement. Creeping through the crowd like a rising fog, whispers began at the back and slowly worked their way toward the waiting couple. Arriving on a tide of hushed words emerged a middle-aged elf, obviously an elder of their village. Bowing as he spoke, the newcomer extended his guests the warmest of greetings, “Welcome to our enclave. We’ve been apprised of your visit and hope to adequately accommodate you as requested. My name is Syheran. Please come, rest. I’ve heard much from Pyhe regarding your travels, and as such our village wishes to aid you as best we can. We have readied many foods known to be popular from your realm and timeline. Come please, a feast awaits.”

  Expecting to be followed, Syheran turned and started down a sloping pathway leading to an unknown destination. Thistle softly gasped at the display of white hair making paths down his back before disappearing into peaks of dark, silken robes flowing around his ankles. The other elves turned one by one to follow, their long fields of ember-brown curls cut by rivers of blazing orange locks shimmering in the sun. Thistle breathlessly gawked as she watched them go. Miach stood equally motionless beside her.

  Noting the pair remained rooted, Syheran paused and turned to face them. In a pleasant tone he assured them with a gentle smile, “There’s no need to worry here, Miach, you are safe. More so, I think, than we are with you, my dear fellow. So, have some faith and kindly follow me. Thistle, I ask that you walk with Old Grandma… now standing beside your left leg; she wishes to speak with you. Miach, please do me the honor of falling into step at my side.”

  Thistle looked down where instructed and found an exceedingly short woman standing next to her, beaming a light-hearted smile. The little woman’s rodent-like—yet distinctly humanoid—features immediately betrayed her gnomish ancestry. Unlike Pyhe, Old Grandma’s ears were visible for all to see as her wispy white hair spiraled into a bun atop her head. Wrinkled and small as a prairie dog, the little gnome’s delicate ears were so thin along the edge they appeared translucent. Amazed, Thistle curiously watched as they twitched around to hear the various conversations being conducted. Without warning Old Grandma reached up and took hold of her free hand before pulling Thistle along with the crowd trailing Syheran. Lacking any protest she gently dropped Amy to the ground and happily followed beside the fascinating gnome.

  Walking side by side, Miach couldn’t help but notice Syheran’s modest glances at the swords strapped to his back. Staring forward following another peek, Syheran commented, “Those are two interesting and magnificent swords upon your back, Sir. May I presumptuously ask to admire them? However, I hear they’re forbidden to touch, is this correct?”

  Miach paused along the path to unsheathe one of his resting blades. Some of the elves gasped and backed away as the storm-slave released the weapon from its binding, yet drifted forward once more as their elder remained calm and interested. The giddy hale-elf didn’t waste a second of offered opportunity to admire the presented weapon now cradled in the warrior’s outstretched hands. Though he couldn’t read the words carved into its face, Syheran admired the venerable language as he visually tracked each symbol down the blade. No elf had ever crafted an ethereal weapon such as this, nor any dwarf. It beckoned him in a way he couldn’t understand. His ears and mind heard nothing, but his soul felt the call loud and clear. Lulled in by its spell Syheran reached out to touch the alluring blade. Just as his finger would have met metal, Miach cautioned, “I don’t think you will like the outcome of that action however feel free to continue at will.”

  For a moment it seemed the elder hale-elf would heed Miach’s warning, but when Syheran looked back at the blade… he couldn’t resist its pull. For a single second his finger touched down onto pure bliss, yet in the following moment he was assailed by the most unpleasant sensation he had ever experienced spreading up his arm. The longer he lingered, the more violent it became. Attracted to his finger like a magnet, the curious elf was forced to jump back in order to sever the sword’s connection. With a somewhat sheepish smile he said, “It would seem the information I received was correct… these incredible swords belong only to you and I can see why. My heart is forever gladdened with your arrival, Miach. Let it be known that the abominations ruling this realm have days now numbered by our lifetime!”

  The crowd around them smiled and clapped their acceptance of Syheran’s words. Returning the displayed sword to his back, Miach moved to unfasten his second when Syheran quickly interjected, “Thank you Sir, but I believe one sword is enough for this elf. I fear they are too fascinating… and their repelling magic is not something I wish to experience a second time.”

  Syheran smiled at Miach before starting off once more for the delicious feast waiting at the other end of the path. As they made their way deeper into the valley Thistle’s mind wandered down paths of her own. Why would a being such as Old Grandma want to talk to me? How did Amy get here? Sensing her flurry of thoughts, Old Grandma declared, “Now, now young one, need of you to rest the mind. Ready instead for things needed in future. Face and accept what fate holds, you cannot ignore, time to see and know. Syheran gives much of histories to learn. Run not a forced path; walk with ease upon right one. Must go, other waits.”

  Old Grandma gave Thistle a broad smile as she patted he
r hand a couple times for good measure. Without another word, and surprising speed, the little gnome made her way to Syheran’s side and expressed her farewell sentiment in a strange, yet liquidly elegant tongue. Thistle was a little disappointed when Syheran responded in words she understood, “You as well my dear friend.”

  Stepping back, Old Grandma touched the ground in front of her knobby, little feet and waited for its amazing result. Thistle watched with the rest of the crowd as an exquisite tiger lily grew and blossomed before their eyes. Its bloom as big as a beach ball, the giant flower turned and opened gracefully toward its creator. As one, long velvety petal extended toward the ground, Old Grandma stepped lithely inside and walked down into the flower’s depths. The incredible blossom closed behind her and, just as Pyhe diving into his dirt-holes, the little gnome was gone.

  Immediately upon Old Grandma’s departure the fated bloom continued rapidly through the remaining stages of its extremely short life. Dazzling orange and yellow petals dried to a deep brown shortly followed by its leaves and stem. The magnificent flower’s final act was to crumble onto the grass and decompose into the dirt below. Amy ran to the spot and pawed at the ground a couple times before deciding to move along with her day, commencing with the investigation of a nearby cottage. Thistle stood mouth agape, awe-struck by the wonder of the spectacle. Without a care thoughts slipped from her mouth, “Other? Does she mean… Pyhe? Is she Pyhe’s wife?”

  Syheran turned and gave Thistle a gentle smile. In an educating tone he stated, “Yes, she is the life-mate of Pyhe; they’re a bonded pair. Now, let us continue to the feast.”

  Thistle glanced around at the onlookers and blushed a little over the scene. Stepping up beside her, a young elf-maid took Thistle’s hand and led her toward the tempting sounds of lively music dancing along the horizon of her hearing. The energetic song glided feather-light through the air, forcing Thistle to hold her breath and strain the limits of hearing hoping to clarify the string of sounds drifting into her struggling ears. At the back of the procession a trio of elves had caught wind of the melody and began softly singing to the music.