January 15, 2009

  • Tiryn Kei at the Withering Gates

    “Is that all?”  Her face was white, controlled.  His eyes were quiet and he did not turn away.

    “Is that all there is?  Her excellent rack and the kindness she once showed you – is that what you think it takes to form a life bond?  Will that be enough to sustain you through the bitter press of years?  Will that hold against the world?  Answer me!”

    The wind howled, and the rusted iron of the great gate groaned.  Though it was ever ajar, the doors twisted back and forth by degrees in the terrible storms of the place.  He was silent until it died down.

    “I do not need to,” he said, and began to walk away.  The gates loomed over him as, neither breaking stride nor looking back, he advanced deliberately on the opening.

    “Tiryn!  Those who enter cannot return!  Think on it!  Think about what you are trying to do!”

    He said nothing.

    “It’s not worth it!” she shrieked.  “You’ll go through, and give up everything you have here, and for what?  For what?”

    It seemed to her that all her life was compressed into that one moment – his back and hood formed a misshapen, grey triangle that receded and receded, and all she could do was watch. Even her voice seemed to get further away from him as he neared the gap.  The wind came in great gusts, and her shouts came at intervals, but neither moved him or caused him to pause.

    Then he was through, with not a word to mark his passing.  Not a “So long,” or a “Think of me,” or a “Farewell.” Not even a sideways glance. Tiryn Kei had gone on to the next world with as much comment as the thousands she had seen die in her years of warfare.  It seemed wrong, was wrong somehow – surely his passing would be different.  His existence had not been the same sort of existence as theirs. His turn had to be remarkable, spectacular, noteworthy.  It couldn’t be just the same as all the others.  It couldn’t be just that.

    The wind picked up again, and the empty gate again protested and shifted.  She felt a sickness and a cold that had nothing to do with her garments.  He had gone where she could not follow.

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