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Chapter 7: The Mark of Death is Made

Foxes in tow, they traveled. The Kvalsdimm was less a forest and more an infestation, the thick trees so close and so tall that there was little room for light. But the abundance of trees began to thin and a little bit of the purple sunset came filtered through the wooded ceiling. They were entering the Foxwoods, and the shades of the trees began to change. Irda pointed out the differences; the dark greens and greys they knew were oak and pine trees, while the sudden proliferation of beech and elm trees brought forth subtle reds and browns and a curious light green, as faint and thin as moss. Valdigt watched with wonder, for the slowly reddening leaves reminded her of herself.

Nashil noted for the first time just how vibrant Valdigt's coat was.

"You're as red as a fox!" she said.

Valdigt smiled but made no reply; she looked up at the red leaves as they snowed down upon her face and feet and sighed away with the wind.

"But never as handsome," Tanda said, walking between the two of them. "You mustn't forget that."

"You arrogant princes are all the same," Nashil said. "I've met many thousand beasts many thousand times handsomer than yourself. And I am still young. If I live twice this age I expect to meet many thousand more."

Her barbed reply fell empty to the floor. The trees, so like pillars beside her, began to elongate and stretch and reached like clawed hands up into the dark sky. All light was sucked from around her; but by some strange trick of the dark, she could still see. None of the others were with her, neither fox nor wolf. She felt suddenly very small, and very alone. There was a movement to her right and she whirled, breathless.

There was something with her.

"Nashil," said a voice. It came from nowhere, from all around, billowing like wind, and her own name pierced her like a wound.

"You do not know me," she said.

Nashil reached for her dirk. It felt very small and hopeless in her hand but she craved the comfort of holding it. She desperately hoped not to have to use it - what good would it do anyways, against an enemy she could not see?

"I know many things," it said. Then it coalesced, a silhouette in the shadows. Twice as tall as any beast it stood, and with no features anywhere on its flat black body. Empty eyes glowed with a chorus of color, ever-shifting within the faceless head. It pointed to the blade she held in trembling hands. "What do you mean to do with that?"

"I'll defend myself if I must," she replied.

"Is that so?"

"What do you know of me, young one? What do you know of the one who stands before you? I tell you now you should not fear me, but you should fear what I can do."

"Is there a difference?"

"Maybe. Would you care to find out?"

"I do know you," she said. "I know you are a killer of beasts. You sent Inthil to the grave, and Hollow, too. You must be the sorcerer -- Vacka."

"All beasts face the grave, young one. That is no doing of mine."

"What is the meaning of this trickery? I'm tired of talking to you. Where am I, and what have you done with the others?"

"I've done nothing to the others. You'll find that they are still with you."

She looked around and noticed what she had not seen earlier. Everyone was there - but cloaked in shadows. They looked like statues of themselves draped in thick veils, knitted with cobwebs and night. She saw Besegrare with the guards and the foxes. She saw Tanda close beside her. Just to his side she saw Valdigt, and though the girl was unmoving and dark, her presence comforted Nashil.

"Young one, you speak bravely, for a mortal."

"Mortal?"

"I am not your precious sorcerer. I am something...Far greater than he. Something of his predecessor in power. You might even say I am that power's immortal source."

"Rheuhl," she said, and felt herself shrivel inside. "The One Who Blinds. Flame bless me, lead me to al-Valar."

"Perhaps meeting me is al-Valar," said Rheuhl, the immortal. "Did you not believe in me? Am I not quite as...metaphorical, as you may have expected?"

Nashil felt her skin crawl. Begone, foul shadow, she thought, Flame guide me, Flame bless me, send this demon away.

"Think nothing of our meeting, young one. Your mortal candles burn far too quickly for any of this to matter. Shine your light while you can."

"What are you saying?" Nashil felt her heart beating quickly, and she'd lowered her dirk to her side. No use. By ashes, what is happening to me?

"That you can see me now, though I am only passing through, means that Death has marked you. And when the Shadow of Death marks you, the real thing is never far behind."

Nashil felt her legs wobbling, unsteady beneath her.

"I'll not believe a word of it," she said.

"Believe it or not, it makes no difference."

"Then what are you?" she demanded. "What are you, if not Death? You say Death has marked me--that means you, doesn't it? Why mark me at all? Why not leave me alone?"

"Am I Death? You may think of me in such crass terms, but it's more complicated than all that. I do not choose who is marked, or when. I merely enact the will of the grave."

"I don't..."

"Don't understand? No, my child. How could you? These matters are outside the scope of your kind. Rare is it that a beast has this sort of glimpse into their future; rarer still is it that one of your kind has encountered one of mine. But I offer you a warning now. Your life has charted a course that ends in your doom. You will see me again soon, very soon--Or at least, you will feel me passing through you and sending you to the Twilit Forest through the Chamber of Death. Mark my words. Unless you change your course drastically, you will be carried to your fate."

"Why should I trust a word you say--You, who are the enemy of all Light?"

"Curious that you wouldn't trust me. Believe me well, young one, for I possess unfathomable knowledge. Your kind has painted me as some kind of great evil; but I am nothing but a counterpoint; a scale exists, with Light on one side and Dark on the other. Neither one is evil, but simply part of a balance. To Life, Death; to Flame, Shadow. But I am not evil, nor is Light my enemy. Do you understand?"

With his final word he vanished into the fog, the form dissipating. Without thinking, Nashil fell to her knees and began to cry.

The world came awake around her.

"Nashil?" It was Besegrare's voice, and he rushed towards her. "Nashil, what happened to you?"

"Where am I?" she said. The forest, suddenly very bright, looked unfamiliar.

"You were having some sort of episode," he said.

"An episode?" she looked at the worried faces of her fellow beasts and they were all looking back at her. Tanda was nodding in agreement with the king, and Irda was mumbling. Probably some sort of prayer, she decided, and then her eyes caught Valdigt's. The she-wolf trembled and gave a little worried smile.

"You had stopped moving, all of a sudden," Valdigt said.

"All of a sudden," Besegrare agreed. "And your eyes rolled up and turned an awful shade of black. We felt the woods grow thick and dark around us and we saw you muttering and grinding your teeth together. You drew your blade and spoke in some wretched voice. Then you fell and began to cry. What happened?"

Valdigt watched both of them with a kind of patient worry. It was her job to keep both of them safe, to keep all of them safe, but she only knew how to protect against a physical enemy. What could she do against the dark? She had no weapon that could protect against sudden attacks like this, and what if it was the king next? What if he was struck by a sudden seizing of the body and became a beacon of the dark?

"I don't remember anything," Nashil said. "It was like a dream. I don't remember details."

"Did you see anything?" Irda asked. "I only heard a few words of what you said, but they were spoken in the Ancient Tongue of the gods. That's troubling on it's own, but some of the words you spoke... They're almost worse."

"What words did I speak?" she asked. A look of horror had spread across her face.

"I heard the word for death," Irda said. "Now I'm not very experienced with this sort of translation yet. I possess a limited knowledge of the vocabulary, but I did hear something that caught my attention. It sounded like... Well, it sounded like no word I know. But like is may have been an earlier form of that word. It was Rheuhl--The One Who Blinds."

A still and silent group of beasts became then much stiller, and more silent. There was no doubt about those words, about what they might mean. How could there be? Irda nodded gravely and spoke again.

"You also seemed to be conversing with someone, speaking and then waiting for replies. With who, I wonder? It couldn't really have been..."

"I am sorry," Nashil said,suddenly, and springing up to her feet."My mind feels foggy already. I don't remember any of it."

Nashil wanted very much to be done with the conversation, for Rheuhl's words still rang in her mind. When the Shadow of Death marks you, the real thing is never far behind. Could it be true? More than anything she would put the thought away, but the king was insistent.

"Are you sure?" Besegrare said. "Think. This could be important! You saw nothing that you remember?"

Nashil shook her head.

Valdigt moved forward to touch Besegrare's shoulder, placing herself subtly between him and Nashil.

"She does not remember," Valdigt said, "Let's forget it too, and travel onwards. It's nearly time to set up camp, and this is a cursed place."

"Wise advice," said the king. "But we mustn't put this away entirely. Think more, Nashil, and tell me what you remember, when you remember. The fate of us all could rely on that information."

He stalked away quietly and the rest of the guard made to follow him. Valdigt helped Nashil compose herself and sheath her blade, then helped her reset her pack. They walked at the rear of the group and talked of the trees and their leaves until Nashil's mind began to wander home and knit itself back together.

That night they slept around a big bonfire; Irda consecrated the embers so that the Flame would watch over them, and the skinny sprawled limbs of a hundred wolves lay commingled with the slender foxes, lying upon their robes spread on the ground.

In the deep of the woods and out of the eye of the others, two wolves crept silently. They settled in a cozy thicket against the hollow of a tree. Nashil, still quite shaken, thought of the mark of death upon her and began to weep. She clutched at Valdigt's soft fur, kissed the she-wolf's face, but she wept all the while.

"I remember all of it, Val," she said. "The whole thing."

"Is that what's troubling you?" Valdigt said. "Or is it something else?"

"Not what I saw," Nashil shook her head.

"But you did see something?"

"It was him. Rheuhl, like the valent said. You know, like they always taught us growing up? But it was--he was, she was--I don't even know what it really is. But it's real, by ashes! It's real!"

"You mean it's a god?"

"Not a god. Something like it, but not the same. Older. An immortal."

"Do you remember what it looks like? Could we find it again?"

"It looked like the shadow of a beast--What kind of beast, I couldn't say. Like no wolf or fox or anybeast I know. It was huge, and black, and like nothing at all. It's eyes were sort of shining, sort of a colorful looking mist, but I couldn't...I couldn't really see anything. How can that be?"

"I'm not sure."

"Either way, I don't think we'll be able to find it or track it down. It's not like we could do anything even if we did. I only saw it today because it let me. I think it wanted me to see it."

"Why would it?"

"I'm not sure. It came to give me a warning. And just before it left, it spouted some nonsense about life and death and the balance of things. I don't know what to make of it."

"Death," Valdigt said. "Why? Was that of what it warned you?"

"I think so."

Nashil felt fresh tears well up and she buried her face in Valdigt's neck. The big she-wolf cradled her.

"Hush now, pup, hush," Valdigt kissed and stroked her until she quieted.

"I don't want to think about what it said," she sniffed.

"Then let's not think of it. Let's not think of anything. Come, let's forget."

"No, it's important that I tell you. It's..." her words trailed off.

"Speak if you will, pup," Valdigt said, "But speak. I will be here. I am listening."

She held Nashil close and breathed deeply, smelling of that autumn magic that lived inside her, crept up out of her fur and onto her own. That lingered every time they were apart, and had begun to linger even in her own clothes.

"It said that I was marked," Nashil's voice fell an octave, low and empty. "That my doom was fast approaching. I felt it inside of myself. I don't know that I have felt anything else since. And the nearer we get to our goal--to Inthil, or that sorcerer, or wherever we're heading--the nearer we get, the stronger this feeling of doom will grow. And then it will take me."

Valdigt's breath quickened and she tightened her hold on the girl.

"Anything that aims to kill you will have to contend with me first. And that's a losing battle."

Nashil sniffed through tears and kissed her again.

"I believe you. I really do, or I want to. But when I heard it-"

"Think no more of it. Leave the sorcerer to me, and focus on other worries. You've got plenty left to spend your time worrying about."

"What do you mean, other worries?" Nashile cocked her head askance. Valdigt chuckled once, but her eyes fluttered and a dark look stole into her, voice very low.

"It's the king," Valdigt said. "I think he is in love with you."