A bit more writing

Now for part two.

******

When enought time had passed for the sun to start setting, Frank finally risked pulling off his kerchief and dunking his head in the nearest horse trough. After mopping his face dry, he glanced about for Omar, but his slippery friend had gone. With the gathering dusk softening the glow of the Icon Effect he cast the sodden cloth aside. If he worked fast, he could bolt town before nightfall. What he needed was a horse.

As of yet no one had come out to check on livestock, so Frank poked about the backbuildings of Hyvar until he found a stable and pasture. He knew a little about horses from his short stint in the army, so he quickly caught and harnassed one. Being a small man, he had to climb the fence to mount the stolen animal, which took a few tries to get right.

Then he aimed for the fields that bordered Hyvar and galloped away. He had no real qualms over what he'd done. After all, there were two others left and no one had thought twice about how well he was doing all those years.

When he reached the ford at Elm River, Hyvar was a distant glow on the horizon. And tomorrow that will fade and we can live in peace for ten more years, he thought in satisfaction. His eyes still ached.

The ford at Elm River was an unmanned raft tethered by a rope to two posts, one on either side of the river. It was primitive and rarely used, but Frank had no intention of registering at a proper bridge. This way was illegal and dangerous, but he was listed as a deserter, and he wasn't sure how long it took after a war to drop those charges. Better to use an unorthodox bridge, than be in jail or executed.

His destination was Scorsaw, usually referred to as the City of Dogs. It was a useless, miserable place, the poverty center of the world, where people lived in tents and drank river water. A reject like Frank would be more than welcome.

******

When Christina came to the top of the stairs, it took her eyes a few minutes to adjust. She was standing in a vast hall, filled with rows of pews. The stairs were situated just behind the pulpit. It was a church, only far grander than any she'd seen. In truth, it was a cathedral.

Then Isabella caught sight of the stained glass windows, and all but flung herself to the floor. Once free, she ran to the wall and gazed at the vibrant colors in awe. When Christina came to get her, she said "we'll stay here, won't we? Mother? I can't go back down there now. Tell me we're not going back."

Christina stared at her daughter in surprise. She'd never strung that many words together before. She glanced at Death's expressionless face and said quickly, "I'm sorry dearest, but we can't possibly stay. This place is for the dead..."

Then she stared at Lee, faithful Lee who'd followed her to Hel and done his best to help her and Isabella. He didn't look dead.

Death laughed then, and said, "you're a bit off-base, lady. This is a vast building, but it could never hold all the souls in the world. This is my home. Outside is where all the dead must travel on. If you'll follow me..."

On the far side of the hall stood two large double doors. They both swung open of their own accord as Death came toward them. One led into another room of the Cathedral. The other went outdoors, onto a sloping, grassy hill.

They all went down it, and at the bottom there was a train station. Two trains waited; one entirely empty, the other packed with people. It was to this one that Lee was directed.

"Now sonny boy," said Death in relief, " say bye-bye to your lady friend here and climb aboard. Answer the Porters questions honestly and accurately and enjoy the ride. You'll be judged at the first stop...or maybe the one afterwards. I can never keep them straight. Just don't dawdle."

The emaciated young man turned to Christina and said an awkward goodbye. Then he added "I hope you'll miss me, now I'm leaving you. Spare me a thought. If you can." Then he went inside. The train remained in place.

Death turned and walked back toward the Cathedral, pulling a scroll of paper from his robe's only pocket. Christina, thankful for the distraction, followed him, craning her neck to see what he was reading.

Peggy and Doris Flanders (ski crash) The Grande Hotel, Oprano
Jak Gard (gunshot wound) The corner of 9th and Monteverde, CableTown

Christina stopped reading in horror. Death noticed. "It's a rough job, takes some getting used to. But it's not so bad. Humans die, but their souls are just sleeping afterwards. Until I wake them up. That's what the staff's for. I escort them to the station, and the porters handle them from there.

"They're angels actually, but don't ever call them that. They find it demeaning. And Time helps. He let my land out of his loop, so I can take a vacation and never fall behind. Unless I take it in your world, which is against the rules.

"But why should I be telling you all this? You shouldn't even be here. So where do you want to go? I'd be happy to drop you off, it's almost certain to be on my route."

Christina was at a momentary loss for words during this speech. But she realised what the final question meant. It meant trying to live again, trying to make the world go her way and make a place for Isabella's prosperous future. It meant trying to carve out a place for herself. It was an idea that made her head hurt. She'd tried it all before and ended up on the streets of Hel, dying in th sulphur-laced air of Easter Sunday.

Not again, she thought. So she said "couldn't we stay here? Just to rest and recuperate. Don't send us back, not right away. We'd never make it." He's death, he doesn't care, she thought as she looked at his face. Growing desperate she added, "I'd work for my keep. There's got to be some job for me; anything would do. I just don't want to go back out there yet. What would happen to Isabella?"

Death interupted her at this point. "The only help I need right now is an extra pair of hands. And I doubt you're game to play Lady Death and collect souls. So you must return. It's that simple. Are you willing to take on an apprenticeship to me for Isabella's sake?"

The color drained from her face as she considered it. "I thought so," he said bitterly. Then she glanced at her daughter, who'd wandered back up the hill, and was staring at the windows yet again.

Her heart rose withing her. Yes, she'd take the job. For her child's sake, she'd do anything. She returned her gaze to Death, resolved. "Teach me."

******

Being apprenticed to Death was, in truth, no great difficulty. The fact was, Christina's life had never been easy; she'd often struggled hard just for enought food to get by. Though she felt a certain amount of guilt over her choice, it was quickly replaced with relief.

First, Death guided her to the bath, and found a spare robe for her while her nightgown was washed. Then after Isabella was given the same treatment, they were brought to the dinng room; a vast hall with over 20 chairs pulled up around a trestle table. It was a ridiculous amount of space for three people. And Death didn't touch the food, though it was delicious.

"Who does the cooking?' Christina said. It seemed a safe question.

"An angel," said Death, who was busy making a pyramid of cards. "Brilliant in the kitchen. He acts very tempermental, because he thinks that's how chefs are supposed to behave. But he's a great conversationist, once you get used to his little foibles. Good company."

A short time passed, then Christina tried a more daring question. "Don't you... I mean, can you eat?"

Death shrugged. "Never tried. Never had the slightest urge to. But I entertain on occasion, which I couldn't do if I had no cook."

******

The next morning, Death let Isabella out into the inner courtyard, which was complete with orchards and wild gardens. "Don't leave the paths," he cautioned. "My gardener is a poltergeist, and he'll torment you for days if you put a foot wrong. He's invisible too, so don't go looking for him."

Inside, Death took her mother into his office to sort out more details. Again, it was a ridicuously large space for one person to use. Lots of little tables, desks and chairs. A candle on every surface, and scarcely a foot of flagstone visible under all the rugs.

First, he wrote to God, asking permission for the employment of a Lady Death. The reply came ten minutes later, and was very enthusiastic.

Dear Death,
Jolly good idea. Go right ahead. 'Thou hast my permission' and all that.
Sincerely,
The Man on TOP

Christina stared at this letter in perplexity. "This is the word of God?" she asked.

Death chuckled. "Yep, and his handwriting too. Said he was too busy to waste time on high-flown words. The earliest scribes didn't like that much. So they re-translated his speeches and the new books looked more meaningful and important, so the style stuck. Never would have guessed, would you?"

And Christina considered it and started to laugh.

******

(Have to stop again. You may have noticed the gloomy atmosphere is all but gone by the end. This is the stuff I wrote after the block passed. This made the story take a very different direction, and I'm sorry that the opening was so misleading. More soon)