Page 306 of Vasmora

“Not for much longer,” I said, somberly.

He would’ve lived another week, the disease growing more aggressive each day, ensuring its chances of spread. If the pain didn’t kill him, the copious liquids it produced would, sinking into his organs like poison. After some time, he’d eventually become delirious. Belligerent. I’d heard of some walking through the village naked. Others spitting in random strangers’ faces.

This evening, he would die in peace, surrounded by those he loved.

“Is there anything you’d like to say?” I asked.

The three women looked at each other, their eyes brimming with grief. One of the daughters stepped forward, and I held up a hand.

“Not too close.”

Nodding, she stepped back. “Papa, I just want to tell you that …” Her words were choked by an audible gulp. “You were an incredible father and a wonderful grandfather to my sons. May the gods be kind to you. I love you.”

A subtle squeeze of my hand told me he’d heard her words, and despite his vacant eyes staring upward toward the ceiling, a tear slipped down his temple.

His wife cleared her throat, hands fidgeting with her apron strings. “Aelric, as you know, we’ve not always had perfect days, you an’ me. Sometimes we fight. But sometimes we laugh.” Her lip quivered. “An’ I’m gonna miss the laughter. Gods be kind.”

His second daughter let out a trembling breath, and for a moment, she stood silent, staring at the floor, perhaps pondering what to say. It was common. Last words were sometimes the hardest to come up with. When she opened her mouth, a beautiful sound carried across the room. The first note of a dirge. Her voice, sweet and angelic, brought tears to my eyes.

Once she’d finished, I looked down to the man they loved, tears filling the dry creases of his face. “Are you ready?” I asked.

He squeezed my hand.

Exhaling a long breath, I nodded and closed my eyes. The warmth of his hand captured in mine crumbled to dust, the graceful consumption of death crawling over him at a slow and easy pace. Up his arm to his shoulder and collarbone that’d begun to protrude through his paper-thin skin. He exhaled one easy sigh, his wife and daughters sniffling as death claimed the last of him.

For a moment, all was still. Only piles of fine ash remained where his body once lay.

Birds chirped from somewhere behind me, and I turned.

What had been the dreary wall of the hovel had become a field of asphodels and white mist. There, a handsome man stood, with his long, red hair pulled back from his face, his muscled form a startling contrast to the frail body from moments before. He raised his hands, staring down at himself, and the smile on his face faded to sadness when he lifted his gaze to mine. “Tell Mira I’ll wait for her. However long it takes.”

With a tearful smile, I nodded.

And like every other I’d been called to assist, he faded into the white mist.

* * *

Having washed my hands thoroughly, I dried them off on a towel and turned toward Mira and her daughters. “It’s best to burn the bedsheets. Wash your hands after.”

Mira gathered my hand in hers, her face crinkled with grief. “Thank you for this, Lady Rydainn.”

I set my other hand over top of hers and gave a squeeze. “Take care of yourselves.”

Gathering up my bag of supplies, I headed out of the cottage, glancing around the empty yard. “Bran!” I called out, spying Raivox chewing away at the carcass Mira had offered in exchange for my services. “I asked you to watch him for me.”

Raivox chuffed and went back to the mostly consumed cow he’d been feasting on. One that’d died of milk fever earlier that morning.

“Branimir!” I searched behind the bushes that lined the front of the cottage and under the small porch, little places where he sometimes liked to hide.

Not again.

Groaning, I rounded the cottage to find a small form hunched over with his back to me, and I sagged with relief. At least he was close. The last time he’d taken off during one of my visits to The Hovel, he’d chased after a stray dog all the way to the north end of the borough.

Arms crossed, I cleared my throat. “And what are you doing? I called for you. Twice.”

He turned toward me, his dark hair with the slightest curl and the dimple in his cheek an echo of his father’s. Silver eyes and pale skin matched my own. “Come, Mommy. Quick! The scorpion is going to win!”

“I specifically asked you to stay with Raivox.” Frowning, I strode closer and knelt alongside him.