Guardian of Endings

[Haibane Shadsie]

This is yet another side-story to my novel world. It deals with my personfication of Death, "The Scavenger."

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Guardian of Endings

She was the Balance-Keeper, the Guardian of Endings.

The Scavenger rode with the mists throughout all of Rhlem. The hooves of her steed, Andreas, danced among the dust of every battlefield. She and her fiercesome mount could be at many places at once or at no place at all. The only mortal eyes that beheld her were the eyes of the dying.

Her hair flowed long in the wind and shone black, like the feathers of a crow. She wore a cloak of vulture’s feathers and carried a long sword with a silver hilt. Andreas, her faithful horse, was a beast without skin or flesh. He was bone, hoof and rotting sinew, held together and animated by spirit. His eyes shone with cyan light - to guide his mistress as they traveled.

Many assumed the Scavenger to be an evil being. There were many stories passed around all of Rhlem, among every People. Some said that she was a demon or the spawn of a demon. Some accounts told that she was a witch in ancient days that had been trapped into her role by her own dark magic.

The Scavenger was none of these. She had existed for as long as Rhlem had existed. She was neither evil nor good, but a mixture of both. She was Death and nothing more.

She swung her sword to sever the cord that bound the soul to the body when a mortal creature’s time came to leave life. She also escorted souls to their eternal destinations.



“Is it time already?” the old man asked. “I feel like I have seen so little and have done even less. The time went by so swiftly. Is it truly my time to leave? I don’t think I’m ready to meet Him yet.”

The Scavenger answered, “Sir, you are one-hundred and fifty-three in years. It is unusual that your life lasted this long. Come.”




The righteous and the innocent would ascend to her saddle. They would ride behind her on the back of Andreas to the gates of Heaven.

Wicked persons had a much different experience.




“No!” the young man cried. “It cannot be! I shall not go! I shall not!”

The spirit shivered. He ran back and forth between his battle-bloodied corpse and a large tree. He tried to re-enter his body several times. Indecision and fear kept him from fleeing into the forest. The Scavenger rode hard, keeping up with the young soul move for move.



She loved it when they ran.

Righteous souls often questioned their fate when she came to them. Sometimes, they asked for more time in life. Sometimes, they accepted their fate and climbed into her saddle calmly. Those that longed for her were rarely happy to see her when they did. The wicked always ran.




Andreas cut off the young man’s retreat. The skeletal beast snorted at the unfortunate soul and glared at him with his glowing eyes.

“Please! No!” the soul shouted. “No!”

The Scavenger pulled chains from her cloak. In an instant, she had dismounted Andreas and bound the spirit by the wrists and ankles. She threw him roughly upon the saddle, mounted, and sped Andreas toward a crimson that glowed out of the forest.




She came to anyone. The Scavenger came to the young as well as the old, the good as well as the bad, to beasts, birds and men. She came to those that expected her and to those that did not. Through Ages and Cycles she rode, performing her eternal duty.

She watched the creatures of Rhlem live. She listened to the wails of those who remained alive as she rode away with the souls of the dead. She admired the courage of the living, not only that of warriors, explorers and others that faced the possibility of meeting her constantly, but that of common people, too.

The Scavenger could feel longing for her on the air. The longing was strongest during the Dark Times of the Cycles. People who were poor, people who were enslaved, and people who had lost much – they longed for her to come to them. Some invited her, greeting her with bloody wrists or leaping from cliffs, arms open to embrace her.

The Scavenger admired the courage of the living – for she saw that the choice to live, every day, for many was an act of great courage.


__________________________________

She rode past several strong men, young and old. The party’s horses snorted at her approach. Occasionally, animals could sense her presence. Wise Beasts were like men in that they rarely smelled her scent like the common beasts did.

The Scavenger cast a long gaze to the white dog that rested her head upon the victim’s torn breast. The young man was the person for whom the Scavenger had come. The boy stroked the wings of the wind dog, leaving streaks of blood on the pristine feathers.

The Scavenger lowered her sword and gently severed the young man’s tie to his failing body.

“It is you,” he said. The soul stood up and looked down at his body sadly. The white dog howled in anguish. Andreas nodded and snorted. “Are you sure?” Jairrus asked. He looked at the Scavenger, then back to his corpse again.

“Your wound is deep,” the Scavenger replied. “Your lungs are lacerated and your heart has failed. You cannot remain here any longer.”

Jairrus cast one last sad gaze toward his body and toward his friends. “Poor Ara Macau,” he said, looking toward a black-robed man. “He thinks this is his fault. It is not. Listen to L’ayela howl... those two shall miss me the most.”

“Your mother is awaiting you,” the Scavenger whispered. “Come.”

Jairrus took the Scavenger’s hand and she helped him into the saddle. They rode away from the forest clearing. The trees around them were bathed in white light. Their bark was silver and their leaves sparkled like diamonds.

“What is this?” Jairrus asked, looking down. He stared at Andreas’ legs beneath him. The bare bones became clothed in tight, strong muscle. The spine and the ribs beneath the boy were no longer visible. Skin and short hair appeared. Andreas’ tail grew long and white.

The Scavenger turned around and looked at Jairrus. Her face was pale. Her hair remained black, but it was shinier than it was before. Jairrus saw her eyes. Her eyes had been in shadow, as black as a moonless midnight. Now, they gazed at him with kind warmth and were as brown as the eyes of a doe. She smiled at him.

“Why are you and your steed... different?” Jairrus asked. “Is this your true nature? Why did you not appear like this from the beginning? When I first stood apart from my body, you looked so frightful.”

“It is simple, my dear boy,” the Scavenger replied. “Andreas and I have changed because we are passing from the land of the dying to the land of the living.”

“I don’t understand,” Jairrus said, biting his lower lip. “I’m not alive anymore. Haven’t I passed from the land of the living?”

The Scavenger gently laughed. “The world from which you’ve come is the land of the dying. Your destination is where there is true life. It is a kind of life you have never previously imagined. No, my dear child, the place from which you have come is not the land of the living.”

She clicked her tongue and urged Andreas forward.

“The place which you have left is a place of suffering. Age and time wear on, and there, everyone waits for me. Even to those who do not accept it or expect it, I eventually come. No, that place is not the land of the living, but the land of the dying.”

The Scavenger and Jairrus rode on into the embracing light.









Copyright S.E. Nordwall, 2004
All Rights Reserved.

[spiritusvult]

Oh my! I mean that was great. I really liked the last concept you mentioned. It reminded me of C.S. Lewis's "The Great Divorce." I don't know if you're looking for some contructive criticism. If you are, let me know. (Not to worry, just small things.) Otherwise, truly great. Keep writing.

[true_noir_chloe]

*claps* You have entered the realm, oops rhelm, of very, very good, because your words push me forward to want to read on.

Thanks, Shadsie for placing something here for me to read. I love to read your writing. ^___^

[EireWolf]

Very good, Shadsie! This is the first of your writings that I have read, and it makes me want to read more too.