Blithe Bereavement - CH3 - PT 2

Okay, I know that I took forever on this last half of the chapter. I'm sorry. I was so stuck. I'm still not completely happy with what I have, but it's better then what it was. Enjoy everyone :)

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Ebony woke to the sound of screaming. The wail rose in the air, terror sending chills down the necks of anyone who was unfortunate enough to hear. It continued without stopping, pausing only for seconds in which gasping breaths could be heard. Still half asleep, Ebony struggled to decipher what was going on. Cold hands grasped her shoulder and shook her gently, as if to wake a sleeping child. Only then did Ebony realize it was she who was screaming.

Stopping with a choke, Ebony shuddered into full awareness. She convulsed terribly; sweat bathing her body and tears blurring her vision. Death held her shoulders, and she noticed that she was kneeling on the hard, dusty wood floor. Coughs bubbled up within her, mingling with the sobs and making it hard to breath. She choked again, and then vomited all over the floor. Heaves wracked her slender body like an autumn storm. A whimper escaped Ebony’s mouth as she tried to gain control, finally breathing steady. The chill from Death’s touch helped, cooling her feverish skin and soothing her. She wiped the tears from her face angrily, and shakily stood.

The first thing that became apparent was that it was dawn. Golden light drifted in through the windows and the smell of baking bread could be picked out, even amidst the reek of vomit. Death stood by her side, not saying anything, but radiating concern. His clothed hand held her arm, chilling her to the bone, but steadying her. Ebony deliriously wondered how cold his hands were when they were not cloaked. When she could stand on her own at last, Death released her and shuffled back, almost seeming embarrassed. Soft hands raised themselves to Ebony’s eyes, rubbing them tiredly. Once again, the details of her dark dream eluded her, flittering just out of her grasp, as if she could reach out and snatch them up.

“You okay?” said Death gruffly, sticking his hands in the cloak pockets. Ebony nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“Good,” came the reply, as casual as if nothing had happened, “We need to get moving.” Ebony looked up at Death in disbelief. How could he possibly think that she was in any condition to go anywhere? Come to mention it…

“Why don’t you have a hangover?” Ebony asked sourly, furious that she was the one suffering, when he was the one who was drunk as a seaman last night.

Death grinned proudly, as if she had just handed him a gold star.

“One of the many pros of being dead,” he said, tossing her a toothbrush that he had plucked from his cloak. Ebony was beginning to believe that it was not a normal cloak, for he also pulled out a hairbrush, bar of soap and washcloth. Blinking shed tears from her eyes, she walked solemnly to the bathroom, the horror from the nightmare still bubbling inside her gut.

Finally, after brushing the taste of vomit from her mouth and washing away the trails of tears, Ebony exited the creaking bathroom to meet Death. He led her down the stairs, giving a friendly wave to Victoria as they left. She smiled to Death, but gave Ebony an odd look, probably wondering why she had been screaming.

The scene outside the inn was very much the same as yesterday – bustling with street performers and other interesting folk. Grey clouds hung low in the sky, chilling the air and fogging store windows. Ebony resigned herself to following Death through the crowd, much to her distaste.

“We’re not going back to that bar again, are we?” she asked sourly. Death shook his head,

“No, no, there’s no time for that,” he answered, stopping to grab her arm and hurry her along.

“There was time yesterday,” Ebony mumbled, purposely being difficult. She was in a dark mood, though, considering how her morning had gone, perhaps this was acceptable. The icy chill that was spreading out from Deaths touch was not helping either. Yanking her arm from his grip, Ebony shuffled along, effectively shutting out the strange world around her. She refused to glance up as she continued to follow her guide through the hoards of people, failing to notice the many stares she was attracting. Whispers fluttered through the air, a few actually taking shape as butterflies, strung together by a string of fluffy sound. They flew lazily above the heads of passerby, coming to rest next to the ear of a fellow gossiper. Many people openly stared, and even a few of the drunken beings emerged from their stupor to confabulate in high pitched voices. The wharf was afoot with a flurry of giggles and gasps.

“Walk faster,” Death ordered, then swore under his breath, “Word has spread…” He grabbed Ebony’s arm again and pulled her behind him, no longer politely weaving through the mob, but openly pushing strangers away. Swearing again, Death glanced quickly behind him. Ebony was already shivering from Death’s touch too hard to argue, her arm numb and insides quivering.

“L-l-let go,” she stuttered, her teeth clattering.

“Can’t,” Death simply said, and pulled her along further. Ebony allowed herself to be towed, now noticing the stares she was getting. The crowed was parting a path as Death tugged her along.

“Go back to your business!” Death called aggresively to the crowd, then muttered softly, “At this rate the Jackal’s won’t be far behind…Ah! At last!”

Ebony blinked up to see they had arrived in front of a ferry dock.

‘Oh…ha ha…” she laughed weakly, “Ferry of the d-d-dead…”

“Shut up,” Death said harshly, still half dragging her. The crowd behind the two was growing, the murmurs of gossip now turning into a roar. The sound elevated as people raised their voice to be heard over their neighbor, and vice versa. Soon the whole wharf sounded like a high school lunch room.

“Come on girl,” Death growled, releasing her arm, “If we stay any longer we’ll start a riot.”

Ebony’s body warmed as soon as her arm was released, as did her mind. She followed Death up the small plank to approach the modern looking ferry. To her surprise, she could see creatures of all sorts. In fact, it looked as though she would be the only human there.

“Isn’t the ferry supposed to shepherd the dead?” she thought curiously, but kept her mouth shut. Death was obviously not in the mood to chat.

As Ebony stepped to board, a grizzled hand flung out and struck in her the stomach, knocking the breath from her lungs. She grunted slightly and stumbled back.

“Fare!” came a squawking voice. The hand that had struck her was now held an inch from her nose, palm up and plainly asking fro money. Ebony blinked and looked at Death, dumbfounded. He sighed and turned to the man the hand belonged too.

“Come one, Charon,” he begged, “What’s one soul between friends, eh? You still owe me for that poker match…”

“All must pay,” came the short cranky reply. The man named Charon sat in a stiff looking wooden chair, a scowl on his face. His skin was weathered from years at sea and a golf ball replaced one eye. Hunched over with age, his hands grasped a wooden can as a large mustache twitched under a hooked nose.

“And,” Charon continued, “ you cheated that game.” Death argued for a short while, but pulled two golden coins from his cloak and pressed them to the mans palm in the end. Charons demeanor changed immediately.

“Knew you’d come to your senses, good fellow,” he laughed, as before Ebony’s eyes age withered away and a young handsome man was left in its place. Charon arched his back, cracking it as though his former slouching had given him a crick.

“Yeah, yeah…” Death said, sounding very much as though he were rolling his eyes, “Why don’t you pick a form and stick with it.”

“Aw, but it’s so much fun to scare the newbies,” Charon replied with a playful pout. He gave Ebony a flirtatious wink. She struggled to not roll her eyes as well.

“Come on.”

Ebony turned to see that Death had already passed onto the dock of the boat. She followed, giving Charon a tentative nod as he began shifting into a shapely woman to greet another customer. The ferry was fairly empty, with a smattering of the red heads with purple tongues, who all gave her a kind smile as she followed Death. A few of the wormlike creatures and long necked giraffe men and women were on board as well, reading newspapers or sleeping off their liquor.

“Where does this ferry lead?” Ebony asked as she sat next to Death on a booth.

“Deeper into The Underworld,” he answered, much happier now that they were out of the crowd, “We port in Ferther. From there we’re going to take a train to Le’ Near until we reach the Hills of Kjar.” As Ebony listened she ripped a small ribbon from her already frayed shirt, using it to tie back her long hair. She ran a hand through the pony tail, trying to de-tangle the mess, eyeing Death in the process.

“And why are we going to those places,” she asked, slightly afraid of the answer. Death glanced around at their fellow passengers to make sure none were listening, then leaned in.

“We’re going to DeGander,” he whispered softly, so much so that Ebony could hardly hear, “So you may reclaim the throne.”

“..right,” Ebony said disbelievingly after a moment, “Sure. And what if I don‘t want to?” she asked, knowing that she probably sounded like a whining four year old. Death gave her a sad gaze.

“I have a feeling you will be changing your mind,” he said, a hint of sorrow in his voice. As much as Ebony wanted to inquire further, she realized this was not the place nor time. Sitting back, Ebony tried to ignore the smell of alcohol that was coming from the snoring Hangover sitting next to her. Thick drool was beginning to slop from it’s mouth and Ebony shifted closer to Death, attempting to avoid the dribble.

“Are we there yet?” she asked, only half joking.

“Ha ha,” came the dry reply.