All the Billion Other Moments

The Death and Times of Halren of Durgol

Part Two

©2009 Jason Penney

“Hey buddy. You thirsty?”

The speaker stood easily two heads taller than Halran. He wore a suit of black leather armor with a sword hanging from his belt so large Halren doubted he could lift it. The sheen of sweat on his bald head and tree-like arms gave off a faint blue glow. It could only be Rystus, the god of war.

The god again pushed the stein in his direction. “Hello? Anyone home in there?”

“Yes, hello. Sorry, sir.” Halren cringed. “Uhm, Your Highness? Your Holiness? Your… uhm.” He tried not to panic.

Rystus laughed and the room seemed to shake with him. The laugh, while not exactly good natured, contained no malice. “Lighten up, Halren. You’re among friends here. It’s all good.”

Halren just nodded. He had no idea what Rystus meant, but he knew better than to disagree with a god. He accepted the offered drink and sipped. Strong, but not bad. He gulped the rest down.

Rystus laughed. “There you go.” The god slapped Halren on the back, knocking him to his knees. Rystus took the empty stein and helped Halren up. He placed something else in Halren’s hand. “You’ll need this.”

Halren waved in thanks, fighting back tears.

“I’ll see you around.”

Halren examined the tarot Rystus had given him. It wasn’t a card he recognized. The face showed a detailed image of a smiling bard. Strong chin. Perfect hair. Intelligent gleam in the eyes. It could be Halren himself. Perhaps it was. It would take some time for his understanding of what was or was not possible to catch up with his new surroundings.

No one ever told him death would be like this. He entered Bolrinia proper and found it to be a great open space, teeming with people. He walked among them, watching them. Most sat around tables apparently betting on games of some kind. He recognized a few, but most he could not place. Many seemed to be based on chance, or perhaps supernatural abilities.

The landscape shifted and he found himself walking aisle after aisle of what appeared to be small magical shrines. People sat before them giving offerings of coin. The shrines would sing and sparkle while the petitioner prayed before them. He saw an elderly man’s prayer for great wealth answered. His shrine attempted to drown him in coins while he danced for joy.

Halren wanted to see it all, but he found himself lost more than once. He just couldn’t take in the sheer size of the place.

The enticing scent of cooked meat filled his nostrils and distracted him from the games. He had not noticed his hunger before, but now his stomach rumbled in anticipation. The smell seemed to be coming from a magical stairway descending through an opening in the floor.

Could it be a trick? He watched the endless supply of stairs form out of the floor and then walk down themselves. He could not see the bottom.

“Excuse me.”

Halren stood aside to let a jolly looking woman step on the top stair. It carried her down into the darkness. He waited. When no screams of torment emerged he decided to risk it.

He lowered one foot onto one of the stairs and felt his legs pulled apart without warning. He clutched the railing, intending to step back onto solid ground, but it also pulled him forward. No use fighting it.

The stairs deposited him into some sort of eatery. All manner of foods sat out on display. People here just walked up and took what they wanted, filling plate after plate. Could he just stroll in and start eating? He stepped toward the table but a large man with the head of a dog blocked his path.

“Aha,” Halren said.

“Aha?”

“I knew it. What happens now?”

“Sir, I just need two gold coins before I can let you enter the buffet” The dog-faced man scratched behind his left ear.

Buffet? “What does that get me exactly?”

“All you can eat, sir.”

“Oh… I don’t have any money on me.” He leaned in close and whispered, “I’m dead.”

“Imagine that. Did you arrive recently by any chance, sir?”

“Yes. I just–”

Dog-face waved for him to stop. “You should have some coin available to you via the Afterlife Tarot Mechanism.”

More gibberish. “The what?”

“Do you have your identity tarot on you, sir?”

“No, what’s…” Halren stopped and dug into his belt pouch. He pulled out the card he received from Rystus. “You mean this thing?”

“Yes. Just place it in the slot on that big wooden chest over there.” He pointed to a large worn chest near the entrance.

Halren walked over. The chest came up to his waist. He opened it and peered inside. Empty. He closed it and looked more closely. He slid the tarot card into a small slot just above the brass clasp. Something inside grabbed hold and pulled the card out of his grasp. Perfect. He peered into the slot hoping to see what type of creature lived inside, but it was too small and too dark. He opened the chest again.

Immediately he slammed it shut, keeping the latch from locking again with his thumb. He glanced over his shoulder at the dog-faced man.

“Everything all right, sir?”

Halren tried to smile. “Oh, yes. Just a moment.” Again Halren raised the lid. More coins than he could count glistened back at him. He reached in, grabbed a handful, and shoved them into his pouch. He let the lid fall shut and started back.

Dog-Face pointed at the chest. “Don’t forget your tarot, sir.”

Halren looked down and grabbed the card which was now sticking part-way out of the slot. He peeked into the chest again. Empty once more. Well, at least he had pocketed some extra.

He walked back to the dog-faced man and held out two coins. “Here you go.”

The man took them and then licked Halren’s outstretched hand. “Enjoy.”

Halren fought down the urge to wipe his hand on his sleeve and approached a long table covered with food. More food than he had seen in his too short lifetime. Total. He picked up a platter. Where to start?

“Don’t be shy.”

Halren looked up and fumbled the platter. The woman smiled at him and his heart melted. Halren immediately had the urge to write a song. An ode to this woman’s beauty. Her hair. Her eyes. Her smile. Her tiny little dress. The pale glow of her skin. A goddess! Not just any goddess. Valestra, goddess of love.

In his younger days Halren spent a good deal of time puzzling over the many images of Valestra. No two were the same. The color of her hair and eyes often differed, as did her build and height. Even with the differences, everyone knew they represented the same being. He never did find the common element that made it so obvious, but it was there.

Now here she stood, right before him, twirling her silky hair around her left index finger. Halren, aware he had been staring openly, turned back to the food.

“You know, you can have whatever you want here.” Valestra bit her lower lip. “See anything that appeals to you?”

Halren tried to respond but his mind refused. He could not remember the last time he felt nervous around a woman. Usually they seemed nervous around him. “Well, I uh… The food, you mean? I’ve never seen… I’m famished.” He grabbed a turkey leg and took a large bite.

Valestra gave a little pout and winked at Halren. “Well then, once you’ve had your fill here, come and find me.”

Halren nodded, chewing rapidly. His heart throbbed in his chest. Surely she heard it. “Oh. Yes.” He seemed to have forgotten how to speak in complete sentences. He managed to muster a “Good” before she pressed a finger to his lips.

“Enjoy your food.” She smiled and clasped his free hand. “I’ll be waiting.” She brushed up against him as she passed, sending a shiver up Halren’s spine. Halren watched the stairs carry her up until she disappeared from view.

He glanced down at his hand and saw another strange tarot card. This one with a turtle, and the symbols for forty and six. What was this for? He shrugged and stored it with the other card.

The Death and Times of Halren of Durgol

Part One

©2009 Jason Penney

Halren pushed up onto his hands and knees and spit dirt onto the red stone floor.  Where was he?  Where was his lute? He tried to remember if he had been celebrating the night before, or perhaps drowning his sorrows.

He got to his feet and brushed red dust from his leather tunic.  Two robed figures stood before him in silence.  “Excuse me sirs, but would you mind telling me where I am exactly?  I can’t seem to recall how I got here.”

No answer.

He looked from one figure to the other.  The one on the left wore a snow white cloak, while the one on the right wore darkest black.  The robes stood out in sharp contrast to the deep red of the rock cave walls.

Wait.

Black, white, and red.  Why did that remind him of something?  They were the colors of… “Oh no.”

He spun around looking for a way out of the cave.  Solid rock surrounded them on all sides.  Halren stepped closer to the two figures and examined their pale faces.  “I’m dead, aren’t I?”

Again no answer.  Still, Halren felt pretty confident in his assessment.  Where else would he see two living skeletons dressed in these colors?  The escorts to beyond, just as he had always pictured them.

Well, two of them anyway.  Ithus the White and Sythus the Black stood staring directly at him.  At least it felt like they were.  Could they even see?  If empty eye sockets in skull faces could stare, they were doing it now.

Ithus raised his right arm and the loose white sleeve slid away to reveal a bony fist, palm side up.  A single finger extended and then curled upwards, beckoning.

Halren pointed to himself.  “Me?”

Sythus nodded, just once and with great deliberation.  The wraiths parted like curtains and revealed a rickety wooden cart.  Halren’s father used a similar cart to bring crops, and sometimes Halren, in from the field.  He could almost see the old man now, walking beside their old donkey, Maggs, trying to convince Halren the road to a good life was paved with hard work.

“You don’t just ask the gods to give you the life you want.  You have to earn it.”

“You could get a priest to ask the gods for you.”

His father stopped the cart, reached up, and pulled him bodily onto the road.

“What was that for?”, Halren asked the back of his father.

The man continued to lead the cart back to their little house.  “Because there’s no such thing as a free ride.  It’s time you learn that.”

The cart before him now had no donkey.  Instead Halren saw two strange devices unlike anything he had ever laid eyes on before.  Each had a small platform suspended between two large wheels.  A post jutted up and out in front, with a cross-bar on top for handles.

Were these the escorts’ mystical steeds?  Every depiction he ever encountered showed them as some sort of horses, usually rather large horses, not these…  whatever these things were.  What else did the legends have wrong?

“All right, no need to push.”  They hadn’t moved, yet Halren felt the escorts’ impatience urging him forward like invisible hands. They wanted him in the cart.  Now.

He obeyed and climbed in. “Where are we going?”

Sythus and Ithus approached their steeds and each stepped onto the platforms between the wheels.  They leaned forward in unison and, with a faint hum, the wheels began to turn.  The cart creaked from the strain and lurched forward.

They picked up speed heading directly towards a wall of red stone.  Halren braced himself against the rear of the cart.  Could he still feel pain?  “Uh, my good fellows…  I suppose I shouldn’t be concerned about it, being dead and all, but aren’t we going to crash?”

His escorts each waved an arm at the wall.  Blue and white lights danced across a large section, dissolving it into nothingness as the cart rumbled through.  Halren slumped to the floor, breathing heavily.

Just when things finally started going his way he had to end up dead.  It just wasn’t fair.

Life’s not fair.  That’s what his father replied any time he complained about things not going to plan.  Perhaps the old man had been right.  Halren took a deep breath and sighed.

His eyes began to water and his nose filled with a burning smell.  He slid himself over to the edge of the cart and peered at the road below.  Fire.  He looked down at cart.  Wood.  He reached over the side and let a single finger touch the metal band on the wheel.  He snapped his hand away with a yelp.

Two questions answered:  the road was on fire, and he could still feel pain.

“Are you sure we’re going in the right direction?  Surely this is Dramol Way, the flaming road to Kathadra.”  Halren had no longing to visit the city of eternal torture.  “Shouldn’t you be taking me to Bolrinia?”

No reply.

“All right.  I get it.  I should never have pushed the priest to intercede for me.”  Halren paused.  He decided to leave out the part where he questioned if the gods had the power to grant his request.

“I paid the rather hefty ‘donation’ he demanded.”  Halren moved to the front of the car and leaned towards Ithus and Sythus.  “Should he have done that?  I don’t think that’s right.  Am I to be punished for his actions?”

In the months since his encounter with that priest things really turned around for him.  He managed to gain an audience with the Queen, who happened to be looking for a new court balladeer.  His future looked bright as he watched the Queen’s coach ride across the courtyard towards the palace hall..

Then…

Then what?

Why couldn’t he remember?

Now this, traveling down the road on a one way trip to never-ending pain and torture.  Halren looked upwards.  “Well Dad, death isn’t fair either.  You happy?”

He turned back to the escorts.  “Look, I know I’ve been a bit of a pest, and I could have given a bit more at the temples now and again, but I’ve led a good life.  Boring, sure, but I never harmed anyone.  Isn’t there something I could do to change our destination?”

Sythus turned his cold white face towards Halren and shook his head.  He turned away again and pointed.  In the distance a tower-like structure rose up into the swirling purple sky.  Lights glistened and sparkled up its entire height and letters burned across the top.

Halren struggled to read the words.  His father insisted he learn to read, and it had come in handy.  These words he did not recognize, except one.  “Bolrinia?  That’s Bolrinia?”

The two figures nodded in unison without turning to face him.  Relief poured over him like rain.  Paradise.

Halren’s gaze remained affixed to the towering structure for the remainder of the long journey.  He always envisioned Bolrinia as a field or garden.  When he tried to remember any description in the scrolls, he couldn’t recall there actually being any.

None of the artistic impressions looked anything like this.  Its construction was unlike anything he had ever encountered.  It appeared to be made entirely out of solid black marble.  A long stairway led up from the road to a set of huge golden doors that danced with the light of the burning road.

His silent escorts leaned back and the cart came to an abrupt stop.  Ithus gestured for him to get out.  Halren leapt over the flames and onto the grand marble stairwell.

He waited for them to follow.  “Do I just go in?”

Sythus nodded and shooed him away like an insect.  The two wraiths exchanged a glance and then leaned forward and rode away on their strange humming mounts.  He felt certain they were laughing at him.

So what?  He stood just outside the gates of paradise.

A rush of energy surged through Halren, and he bounded up the stairs.  Maybe the dead didn’t get tired.  He could get used to this.