"UHHBLUUHHGH!" was the sound the Valley Knight made as he erupted from the swirling muck. Dragging himself upon the abrasive granite shore, he rolled onto his side and violently expelled all he'd swallowed after nearly drowning in the lair of the Skull-Faced Man. "Who said you didn't?" Unable to clear his eyes, with nose and ears clogged with muck the Knight could barely hear or smell. Yet, even in his current state the warrior knew the presence of someone hostile standing over him! He swung outward then quickly realized he no longer held the black sword and had lost the bow and quiver as well.
Poking the prone Knight with a broken thighbone an unidentified tormentor made malicious fun, "Ha, ha, ha! You've lost the very weapons which allowed you slaughter how many lives? Hundreds, perhaps thousands? Now what will you do without them?" Gaining his feet, the Knight did his best to clear his eyes of the foul mix of blood, sewage and death. Through slit eyes the Knight could see the visage of who he'd fought his way across the world to find, the Skull-faced man. Disgusted, the Knight tried to wipe away more of the filth and said, "You are not who I seek. The Skull-Face was a man unlike any I've encountered. You are no man. You are that which the Skull-Face warned would follow me all my days should I pick up the 'gifts' he left for me. You are my ever-present companion, you are Death."
The Skull-Faced Man clapped slowly and retorted, "You understood so much faster than that dim-witted friend of yours. Of all my multitude of minions past, present and future you are my most favored. Though the very presence of living things irritates me to no end, your life gives me solace. When I watch you fly through the torrent of battle or perform the intimate dance of death, your terrible visage quickens my long jaded spirit!" Covered in blood yet with the half-skull mask in place Death moved closer and as it did, a fetching female form replaced that of the warrior body. Pressing close to the Knight, the touch of soft breasts and a taught belly above rounded hips made their presence known.
However enticing the presentation, the form bore the chill of a corpse. Death looked up into the Knight's eyes with unmistakable longing. "I see why she hid you from me these past three years. Had I known you would fall into her embrace, I would have taken you into mine sooner!" Standing firm the Knight replied, "You know I could never willingly accept your embrace."
Placing well formed arms around his shoulders, Death laid its head upon the broad chest and listened to the powerful beating heart. "To hear such a thing and find joy in it aggravates me! Far more pleasurable it is to hear the final beats and the exhalation of the last breath. Yet, I do not long to hear your final sounds and watch as your light fades for all eternity. I care not about what conditions you accept my embrace. Know that I give it freely!"
Strangely, the Knight understood. Being married to a goddess made his mind far more open and flexible to what was possible. "So even Death can love?" Chuckling, Death took off the half-skull mask and looked upon the Knight once more. "Is it so strange that I who must strive to cut down all that lives and lie in wait at the backs of the gods themselves am capable of such a thing?" Staring into the clouded brown eyes the Knight replied, "Yes. You said it yourself, 'life aggravates you.' The very possibility that one life out of the untold numbers you must fell brings you joy is inconceivable..., yet not impossible."
A dry smile crossed the lips of the comely feminine face. Despite the attractive form, the Knight wondered when and where Death borrowed the dead woman's form. Seemingly hurt Death said to the Knight, "You do not mind the 'borrowed form' she wears. You have seen her true self and was not repulsed. You know her for what she is and can do. Yet you do not fear her. She has been and still is one of my greatest servants. Entire civilizations have fallen before her. Where you have a river of blood flowing through your life, she has oceans!
But you recoil from my embrace, you recoil from me. Have I not been your constant companion? As you lay asleep or close to life's end from your savage battles, I ignoring all others lay beside you. I gleefully catch the souls you cut down with an artistry only I can appreciate! I am your true lover! Do not forsake my love for a short breath of peace when with me you shall have that which you have always desired... fire, blood and death!"
The Knight could clearly see all that Death had been to him and would bring as a passing multitude of the dead and dying rose and fell before his blood soaked sword and arrows. The screaming tidal wave filled with blood and victims swelled to mammoth proportions as it rolled toward him. The Knight watched himself kneel and draw his bow taught and scream, "I LIVE FOR THE POWER OF DEATH!" The black arrow's head burned with a bright yellow glow and flew high into the mass tearing through it leaving an ever-burning hole. The flames split the massive wave down the middle showering the Knight in gray ash as the mass burned in a dual inferno.
The Knight saw himself turn from the slaughter to face him and he gasped, "No!" Amidst the thick falling ash, upon his face sat the half-skull mask and his armored body was drenched in blood. Behind him with the withered arms and body of a cadaver was his lover..., Death. Suddenly, the Knight understood everything. The Skull-Faced man had warned him; ... in picking up those weapons, his name would become synonymous with death. In the years after the Knight set out to find he who showed him how far from perfect he was, on the roads and trade routes the name of 'Kifo' his name, had become the definition of Death.
The Knight broke free of the vision and saw the beautiful, but dead lips preparing to meet with his. His arms grew taught and held those lips at bay. "No thank you. I sought the Skull-Face at first to prove I was better. Now I seek him to return that which he gave me. All you offer is endless killing and death. There was a time I would have taken you and what you offer without hesitation. Now, is not that time. Nor will it ever be again." Death gave the Knight a long silent gaze then said, "I suspected as much. I hope you understand I had to try. You cannot yet fathom your worth, but one day you will. I shall come for you then and you will be mine alone."
Death then gave an irritated sigh and growled, "I suppose you are here to enforce the rules?" The Knight turned to see who Death looked over his shoulder towards. Squatting amid the odd shaped granite boulders was an older version of the god Qatula. The god's black and gray ash body paint made him seem part of the stones. Only those deep red burning eyes gave indication to the contrary. "Don't mind me, I'm here to make a delivery." It was evident Death was none too pleased to see the trickster whose power rivaled that of the Priestess. With the hiss of one's last breath Death warned, "Make your delivery and go! I still have much to discuss with this mortal."
Shaking his head Qatula replied, "We both know you're done for now. Let the kid go and you can play with him another time." Death bristled at being given a chiding from an upstart and suddenly stood between Qatula and the Knight. That razor-sharp toothed grin shot across the god's mouth as he said, "Unlike my wife, I have no intention of being diplomatic with you. Much fun as it would be going 'round with your ass, we both know it'd be a waste of time. Besides, you've got a busy schedule. Break's over." The borrowed form of the dead woman fell away in a cascade of decay and Death stepped forward in its true form.
The Knight had seen Death's true form when it fought with the Aesir Chief, but could not suppress a grimace being in such close proximity. Death despite its stance did not seem to faze the god. In fact to the Knight's eye, it only seemed to excite him. Those red eyes flashed once brightly and gone was the form of an older painted man. In its place was that of a hooded gray cloaked man-sized being. from within the cloak shot a powerful jet-black arm holding a long straight sword of unfamiliar design to the Knight. The shining blade turned from silver to an angry red matching that of Qatula's burning eyes. "You sure you want to do this in front of the kid?"
Death's anger was apparent for even in this place of lifelessness, the granite stones began to decay. Just as soon as it started, the standoff ended. Death smiled and said, "No, I do not. I am nothing of not patient. Soon enough my time with this beautiful child will be at hand and nothing that wife of yours or you may try will make any difference. Afterwards, I can look forward to that not-too distant time when my command will bring you two upstarts to heel." Still brandishing the coal-red sword in a downward position Qatula calmly replied, "True. But until that far-off day..., go fuck yourself."
The Knight saw Death turn back to him and fade into a shimmering mirage. The last remnants took the shape of a Death's Head floating within and then that faded to nothing with the words, "Soon my love...." Having returned to the older male form, Qatula stood beside the Knight and said, "Damn! I hate that motherfucker." The Knight could have sworn he heard a tinge of relief in the god's tone. "Thank you for coming to my aid. Now what will it cost me?" The god chuckled once more and said, "I see why our wife and that shitbird Death have taken such interest in you. I actually came to deliver something. Let's just say it's an, 'I apologize' gift."
The Knight knitted his brow as Qatula laid the bundle at his feet and said, "I think you’ll know what to do with it. Oh and if you haven't noticed, your jilted lover left you something." Lying on the opposite side of the bundle was the half-skull mask. The Knight bent down and opened the black cloth bundle and gasped, "You found them!" Shaking his head Qatula snapped, "No dipshit, I made them!" The Knight picked up the short but deceptively heavy blade and saw it as having come fresh from a swordsmith's forge. Gone was the scoring caused when the Skull-Faced Man blocked the Witch's lightning bolt. Gone were the numerous nicks and scratches from his multitude of battles. And gone was the wrist strap made from the skin of the Witch and her blood on the blade that gave it mystical powers.
Also gone were the black arrows made from Aunt’s wing feathers and bones. It was strange how long as he had at least two arrows left before sunrise, the quiver would refill itself. The Knight picked up the black recurved hornbow which like the sword was deceptively heavy and hard to draw. The Knight drew the bow and listened to the familiar sound of the sinew bowstring draw taught. “Hmmph! It took a year to grow strong enough to use the sword or this thing in battle. Now using them is no different than opening or closing my hand. Too bad all the arrows are gone.” “Yeah, about that. You shouldn’t leave these things lying around....” The Knight looked to the god as he held a pair of muck soaked black arrows. They were the last of his original brace.
It all made sense now. The reason he would never find or defeat the Skull-Face was because he pursed himself. The Knight took up the bundle, arrows and mask then looked to Qatula. "How do I get back?" Turning to the sea of muck the god replied, "Funny you should ask...." A great swirling vortex erupted amidst the muck and within appeared a clearer whirlpool of bright red water. "The kid's having a fit and his power is out of control. If you ever want to get back to the Valley and that wife of ours, you better go help him." The Knight looked to Qatula and said, "It's the least a father should do for his son."
Qatula watched as the Knight without hesitation waded out into the muck carrying the bundle and mask. Once in the grip of the whirlpool, an instant after the mortal was swallowed downward and the liquid vortex calmed to nothing. Suddenly, the god shuddered and snapped, "Fuck this place is foul!" A swirling black cloud gathered at Qatula's feet and wound its way up to the crown of his graying head. As the cloud disappeared, so did the god.
© 2011 H. Wolfgang Porter. All Rights Reserved.
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