Inevitable

INEVITABLE

BY HARRISON STEWART

The light behind him faded fast, and soon the curtain of the world snapped shut. Darkness swarmed instantly, filling every crack and crevice. The bright and joyful world of the living was behind him. Beyond the world of the dead. Dense, grey fog blanketed the horizon, and dark water burbled beneath the boat as it carried the cloaked figure forward into the abyss. In the distance, a coastline began to emerge through the fog. Closer and closer, it came into full view. A dark pebbled beach and a ruined town. A shanty pier stretched out like a dying limb, as it beckoned the boat.

‘Twile.’ A voice carried like a wind across the shallows towards the boat.

Behind the village emerged an ashy mountain peak, and down its side a dry and desolate forest cascaded. This was no place for happy hearths. It reeked of death.

The boat thudded softly into the pier, and Twile disembarked with ease.

‘Twile,’ the voice said again. This time it sounded closer and more desperate but not yet recognisable.

Twile walked forward, his eyes scanned the scenery before him. The town was in ruin, every building was a mess of blackened timbers, and the ground beneath his feet was heavy with ash.

As he made his way through the town, he noticed the mounds of piled bodies, some still fresh. Blood pooled and stained the cobblestones staining his shoes as he trudged onwards.

There was an eeriness to this place, something Twile could not describe. The scent of rancid death was heavy in the air.

The entire village appeared trapped outside of time, almost unmovable and yet everchanging. Still, Twile could not shake the feeling that his fortunes were guided by fate and not his heart.

‘Twile.’ It beckoned for the third time. This time it echoed ahead of him, beckoning him further inland. He followed.

He wandered for what felt like an eternity, following the voice as it continued to call his name. He found himself near the base of the ashy mountain peaks, they stood like two great guardians, awaiting one worthy enough to pass between them. The fog grew thick.

Through the fog, appeared a thin and boney creature of terrific height. Its long and torn black garb wound itself around the creature’s figure, obscuring its face like smoke. In its hand, it held a tattered staff.

Twile hardened his face, hiding the fear inside his heart, even as a cold bead of sweat trickled down the nape of his neck.

The fear in his heart was hidden from his face. But down the nape of his neck trickled a cold bead of sweat.

‘Twile, Vanquisher of Foes, Beater of Mountains, you have ventured far enough! Asha is at rest; the laws of the dead decree it!’

Without a word, Twile pushed past the tall creature and with a nod of its head, it dissipated into thick black smoke. It twirled through the air and launched itself into the ground, paces ahead of Twile. From the shadow emerged the creature again, this time it held its staff outwards.

‘Twile!’ It boomed.

Twile flipped back his cloak and revealed a sword. As he flicked his wrist, he unsheathed the blade and struck first, splitting the creature’s staff in two with a single slice.

Stumbling backward, the creature regained its footing just in time to dissipate again into smoke.

Sheathing his sword, Twile called to the sky, ‘Asha is not to be taken by the dead yet, GateKeeper! The laws of man decree it!’

The maniacal voice responded, ‘Death is irreversible, young Twile. One who has conquered many must at least understand this. You are mine!’ The voice echoed into the vastness of the mountain peaks.

‘I will save you, Asha,’ he muttered to himself, as tears welled on the brims of his eyes. ‘I will.’

The bare cobbled road led Twile deeper into the shadow of the mountains. The desolate forest that had cascaded down to the shore continued to climb alongside the path. Dry and broken trees littered the cobbles. Life seemed in a perpetual downward spiral, neither alive nor completely dead, yet constantly decaying.

As he continued to climb, the grey trees grew taller and reached over the path. Long tangled branches drooped above Twile. The mountains, now gigantic in their height, disappeared behind the treetops.

Without warning, another voice spoke. It seemed to slither its way down from the very peak of the mountaintops, sliding between the treetops.

‘She is dead. She is dead,’ the voice sang.

‘She does not love you, Twile…’

Soon more voices joined, becoming a chorus of sinister utterances.

Deep in his heart, he felt the words. They squirmed their way into the deep crevices of his heart.

Looking up through the trees, Twile caught sight of the first Harpy. Large, crooked fangs hung from the creature’s blood dripping lips, and enormous mangled breasts swung low from its chest.

Harpies. He thought to himself.

‘Embrace us, Twile. We will adore you, o’ strong one!’

‘Vanquisher of Foes.’

‘Beater of Mountains.’

Twile clasped his hands to his ears and shook his head violently.

‘Get out of my head!” he cried, beating his head with his hands.

‘Let us in Twile, hear our voices in your heart!’

In amongst the snaking of voices, a clear and crystal word sang out. It filled his head, diminishing the sneers of the dreaded Harpies.

‘Twile,’ the clear voice rang out, ‘Twile my love.’

‘Asha’ he called to the darkness around him. ‘Asha.’

‘Yes, my darling, it is me.’ She sounded faint, her voice a murmur in the fog.

‘The Harpies have me, my dear! The world of the dead brings such despair!’ he cried out.

‘Think of the light.’ Asha’s voice faded as though it had not even reached his ears, and again he was alone.

‘Yes! Yes! We have him, sisters! Continue! Continue!’ the voices persisted, ignorance besting them.

Closing his eyes to block the creature from his mind, Twile focused his thoughts on Asha. He imagined her long black hair, full of curls. Her smile, her laugh, her frown. Everything that made her beautiful. A smile touched his lips.

Like a glowing torch in the darkest of nights, Twile began to glow. Like fire licking dry wood, the light began to burn away at the Harpies. Their screeches filled the quiet dark of the mountain valley as they fled in haste.

As the light faded, the warmth of Twile’s body subsided and the dark crept back into him. Death could not be trounced so easily.

‘I’m coming, Asha,’ he called out to the valley, his voice echoing into the gloom before him.

#

It was sometime before Twile made his way from beneath the shadow of the mountain peaks. He felt like he had been under their shadow for days. The scenery is unchanging. Dead tree, after dead tree.

Soon the shadow peeled back, and an empty plain revealed itself. It was dry and ashy. Dark and ever stretching. In the far distance behind a wall of thorns rose a pointed black tower.

A snort brought Twile’s eyes back to the plain before him.

There, clawing the ashy soil, was a bull.

It was enormous. Pure muscle.

Huge, curved horns sprung from its temple, reaching high above the creature’s head. A slight crackle of flame appeared behind its shadowed eyes, and a bone-like ring hung from its nostrils.

‘The great vanquisher enters my lands.’ Growled the bull.

‘Agmanuth. You still serve as the GateKeepers lacky I see.’

Agmanuth growled again. Flaring his nostrils.

‘There is no victory over death Twile. You will learn.’

Agmanuth turned on its side and dropped slowly to the floor. He caught Twile’s eye and nodded its head.

He wished for Twile to mount him.

‘You are taking me to him, are you not?’ Twile asked, approaching carefully.

‘I believe death has plans for you Twile. But I shall speed your travels.’

Climbing aboard the great bull, Twile carefully anchored himself. Pressing his hands against Agmanuth’s flesh he felt the heat radiate through its hide.

The fires of Hell raged within this beast.

With terrific speed Agmanuth carried Twile across the plain. The landscape turned to a blur, and ahead the dark tower loomed. Closer, and closer.

Soon the wall of thorns that bordered the plain grew within reach.

‘Hold on!’ Agmanuth bellowed. Lowering his horns, he accelerated to a terrifying speed and shattered through the harsh bramble.

###

They had surfaced upon another plain that stood before the vast, shadowed tower. It was stark black; a luminescent glow shone from within its walls.

There, at the base of the stairs leading up to the tower, stood the GateKeeper. With its body now unwrapped from his cloak of smoke, he was truly terrible to behold.

‘Twile, your persistence has been noted by the divine--‘

The young warriors’ eyes scanned the tall figure. In place of his staff, he now rested his tall frame upon the hilt of a great black sword, its point burying deep into the soil.

‘--yet you have been deemed unworthy due to your shortsightedness.’

The GateKeeper continued. Its skull-like face extended into a long cylindrical cone at the back of his head, and its skin was like spiders webbing.

‘And- Agmanuth… The hell beast appears to have forgotten its place.’

The great bull stiffened at the words.

‘I brought the intruder before you GateKeeper. Nothing more.’

‘The Great One will decide your fallacy.’

‘Asha!’ Twile called, as he dismounted the bull and ignored the two squabbling creatures.

Behind the GateKeeper, the doors of the tower opened and through walked Asha. Like a drop of blood on fresh parchment her blue dress brightened the scenery around them. Yet her skin was grey, and her face sullen. Despite the joy in her eyes at seeing him, she did not run to him. Instead, she came to a stop beside the GateKeeper.

The towering creature placed his long bony hand on her shoulder. She shuddered under his touch; her eyes locked on Twile.

‘Let. Her. Go.’

With hesitation, the GateKeeper lifted its boney hand from Asha’s shoulder. Her face relaxed in an instant, and she looked up at the dark creature for permission. With a nod of reply, she burst into a run, launching herself into the arms of her beloved.

Neither saw the crooked smile break out across the GateKeeper’s face. The GateKeeper struck its great black sword thrice into the soil, as the two lovers embraced, and cackled.

Agmanuth suddenly fell to the ground, as if he had buckled beneath a great weight. Twile turned from Asha at the sound of the beast’s grunt, but it was too late. A whirl of fire enveloped both Asha and Twile, and in an instant, they were gone.

The bright warmth of the sun beat down happily on their faces. The smell of fresh air and the light that glistened against the crystal blue waves meant one thing. They had been returned home to the land of the living.

As the days turned to weeks, Twile noticed something. The colour never returned to Asha’s cheeks. Her grey face remained grey, and she grew sullen. He spent the next day’s dancing and singing with her, drinking wine, and telling jokes. And though she laughed and smiled, soon it all faded. On the dawn of the next day, as the sun kissed the horizon, Twile stepped out from their house to find the sunrise blocked by the dangling of Asha’s body.

With the going down of the sun, Twile finally lay her to rest on the ground. As he retrieved his sword, Twile turned its steel on himself.

#

He awoke to the sound of the greywater as it burbled once more against the boat.

This time, no foe did he fight, and he overcame no trial, as he walked in deathly silence towards the tower to hold Asha forever.