Once in a while, people had tried to do just that. The Ruins sat on good land; if they cleared some of the old buildings, there would be new fields to plow, new places for homes, they would argue. They never lasted more than a month or two. There was a powerful feeling of dread inside those empty relics; Lord Jezias ruled there, and wasn’t shy about instilling fear in the mere mortals that encroached on his territory. Most of the buildings there were unlivable, anyway; it had been nearly a century since anyone had done any upkeep to them. Time could undo the works of the gods, let alone those of men.
Jake looked up and was surprised to see that the sky was beginning to darken, the sun setting behind thick gray clouds. People had been coming in from all over Aspen Vale to pay their respects to Mother Harper, and Jake had taken it upon himself to greet them at the door of the Arena. After what had happened with Mayor Townsend, he did not feel worthy to stand vigil with the others. A person’s journey should be started while surrounded by love and peace. Instead, he had brought conflict. No, it was better to sit outside the front door, breathing the chilly air, making the pyre that would send Mother Harper on her journey.
Thankfully, he was just about finished. Jake had made a nice flat surface for Mother Harper to lie on, and then laid kindling around it. Nearest the door, there was an opening in the kindling to allow them to place the body on the flat. Once the body was placed, they would stack some hay in that space along with more wood; the hay was dry, and would make the wood catch around it. Nodding to himself, Jake rolled a tobacco cigarette and sat down in a chair near the door. Lighting it with a match and taking a long drag, he looked up into the sky. He had been hoping to see some stars tonight, but the iron gray clouds that had hidden the sun were beginning to blanket the rest of the sky. In about a half an hour, it would be pitch black outside.
He suddenly wished more was known about Lord Jezias. While his worshipers had been many before the Awakening, it was said that he had taken all of his priests to him about the same time as he sent the Gone to purge mankind. After the Awakening, few would willingly give themselves to such a cruel god. Only the Jezzites held on to the belief that he was a kind, forgiving deity. Still, he wouldn’t have mind talking with a Jezzite priest at that moment. Many people said that a spirit needed a cloudless sky to make the journey properly; that if clouds blocked their path, they could be trapped in their body and would rise as a goner much faster. Jake didn’t know much about that; it seemed silly to him that a deity as powerful as the Lord of Death would be thwarted by something as insignificant as a wisp of cloud.
Still, he wished for the clouds to break, maybe just a little.
No sooner had he made that wish than he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Big Tom Harper standing there. “Mind if I join you for a minute?”
“Hey, Tom. Sure. I doubt anyone else is going to be coming tonight, besides the torchers.” Tom went back inside to get a chair, while Jake cleared a bit of snow from the ground to give him a spot to put it. The big man sat down with a sigh and rolled a cigarette of his own.
“No stars tonight,” Tom observed.
“You never know,” said Jake, handing his lit cigarette to Tom. “Sometimes clouds like these break up with no warning.”
Tom shrugged and used Jakes cigarette to light his own. “Eh. Bugger em. If they think they’ll hold my mother back from her journey, all I can say is they should be prepared to have their fluffy white asses kicked.”
Jake let out a startled laugh. “Now, Tom, that isn’t true at all. She’d offer them a cookie and they’d offer to bear her along her journey on a cushion of air.”
“Either way.” Tom took a drag, and blew it out in a slow curtain of smoke. “Heard what happened with Townsend today.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry, Tom. He was giving me grief about standing vigil instead of talking to some Kenoshan, and I lost my temper.”
“Don’t worry about it; we all know Townsend can be a son of a bitch. He does care about the people here, though. Probably why he keeps getting re elected. We know he's a son of bitch, but we also know he's OUR son of a bitch.”
Jake nodded. “Well, that and no one else seems to want the job.” Townsend had run unopposed for the last couple elections.
“Who would?” asked Tom. “If you win, you have to deal with assholes like Jake Larkin. That bastard walks around like his kak don’t stink.”
“Yeah, I know. I hate that guy,” Jake agreed.
The two of them sat in silence for a while, smoking and trying to ignore the cold. As full darkness approached, Jake saw the torchers emerge from the Ell building, lighting the paths. Full dark in the valley was impenetrable, especially with cloud cover. As dangerous as fire could be, it was simply too dark too often during the winter to not have the paths lit for at least some of the long night. Jake and Tom sat in silence, watching the torchers go about their work.
When Tom broke the silence, it was to say, “Jake. I don’t think I can do it.”
Jake nodded. “You wouldn’t be the first who couldn't. Mother Harper already asked me if I would do it if you couldn’t. I said yes. If that’s a problem…”
“No,” Tom said quickly. “Or, yes, it is a problem, but only if I’m too much of a pansy to do it myself.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. Everyone who’s ever had to do it knows how hard it can be. I had to do it for both my parents.”
Tom looked over, and Jake could see something resembling panic in his eyes. “How did you do it?”
“I just reminded myself that it was Lord Jezias’ will that took them from me, and if I didn’t consecrate their journey, he would send them back as goners. Neither of my parents would want that. No child of the Mother wants to become a thrall to Him. I can tell you for sure that your mom doesn’t want that. So I said goodbye to them and performed the ritual, and then sent them on their journey on wings of flame. We have to do it for everyone.”
“Unless there isn’t enough left for Lord Jezias to use to send them back,” said Tom. Jake nodded; his friend had never really gotten over the death of his son. Tom went on, “Everything you are saying is right, Jake. I know it’s right. It’s just…” Tom trailed off, and then pointed. “Looks like you were wrong, buddy. One more coming to say goodbye to Mom.”
Jake looked to where Tom was pointing. Sure enough, a figure was coming toward them, heavy in his furs. A Scout, Jake decided; most would not be that surefooted in the snow, and there was something about the way he was skiing that showed confidence and a lot of practice. The man had a dog with him, a big yellow dog that looked like a lab, but had very light colored fur and longer hair on its hindquarters. “From the Ranch, maybe? I don’t recognize that dog.”
“Mom knows a few from the Ranch, but I can’t imagine they’ve heard about her not being well up there,” said Tom, standing up. Jake followed suit, his hand going to his belt but not quite to his knife. As the man got closer, Jake could see that the man was about his age, with several weeks growth of beard. Definitely a scout, but he didn’t recognize…
All at once, Jake put it all together and gave a groan. Tom looked at him in askance, and Jake moved his had from his belt. “Ten to one, that’s the Kenoshan,” said Jake.
“Mother of the Mountains, they just aren’t going to leave you alone, are they?” Tom cracked his knuckles, and started striding toward the man.
Jake pulled him back, albeit not without regret. “No, Tom . Go in and see to your mother. I’ll just have a quick talk with this guy now, see what it is he wants. Maybe then we can send Mother Harper off in peace.”
“You sure?”
“No. But get in there anyway. No reason both of us should defile your mother’s vigil.” Jake forced a grin for his friend and clapped him on the back. Tom shot another dark look toward the approaching figure before ducking inside. Jake held up a hand in greeting, which was returned. The man’s dog gave a quick bark as they approached, and went to sniffing Jake’s furs as soon as she could. Afte
r a couple of minutes, the dog apparently decided that she approved of him, turning to face her master but leaning into Jake.
“Sorry about her,” the man said as he slowly slid to a stop. “She’s a terror when it comes to goners and squirrels, but she is firmly convinced that the rest of the world exists to love her.”
“I may know someone like that,” Jake said, thinking of Trig. Beth had gone home to feed Trig and Katie; Jake wasn’t sure whether or not she’d come back. Trig was very protective of the girl and probably could have protected her from any danger, up to and including a goner. But as much as Beth loved Trig, she wasn’t quite willing to leave the safety of her child to a dog.
Jake reached down to scratch by the dog’s ribs. From the way her hind leg went up and started to shake, he assumed she enjoyed that. “What’s her name?” he asked
“River. A good partner, but kind of a princess, too.” The man took off his gloves, and told River to come. She did, but not without pausing to give Jake’s hand a lick. “And I’m Kyle Beaupre, if you’re wondering.”
“I was. You might’ve thought I was rude if I had just kept calling you the Kenoshan. I’m Jake Larkin,” said Jake, extending his hand.
Kyle Beaupre shook it. “I’ve been called worse,” he said wryly. “I am sorry to bug you. I heard about what happened with that Mayor of yours. It’s my fault, really; I don’t know what-all you Aspenites do for your dead, and I didn’t realize how important the vigil was. And the Mayor is rather peeved with the fact that I was told to talk to you before anyone.”
Jake found himself nodding. Apparently the Kenoshan had formed as low an opinion of Townsend as Jake’s own. “It’s alright. I hear tell you’re a Jezzite. You can’t be expected to know our ways here in the valley.”
Beaupre shrugged. “A good portion of the folks up in the fort proper hold to the ways of the Three these days, if they hold to anything at all. But they don’t have much to do with Christians. They certainly don’t invite us to their holy rituals. Usually that suits me just fine, but this time I kind of stuck my foot in it.”
Jake nodded again; that made more sense than anything he had imagined the Kenoshan would say. “Fair enough. And I promise that once Mother Harper makes her journey, you and I can hash out what brought you all the way here. But right now I can’t deal with it. I hope you understand.”
“I do. And if I didn’t, what happened with your mayor would have helped me along the path of understanding,” said Beaupre wryly. “I should probably head off now. I’ll stop by tomorrow to see where things stand. I don’t mean to be a bug, but what I have to tell you folks is important. Life and death. No exaggeration, my hand to Christ.”
The man's oath made Jake take notice. Jake didn’t know much about Jezzites, but he was fairly sure they wouldn’t invoke their deity lightly. “You should come in,” he blurted out. “Meet Mother Harper. I’ll vouch for you.”
Beaupre gave a clear start; that was clearly not what he was expecting to hear. That’s fair, Jake thought, because it wasn’t anything I was expecting to say. “I don’t want to impose,” Beaupre was saying. “And given how things played out, I can’t imagine most of those in there have a good opinion of me, trying to drag you off like I did.”
“Like I said, I’ll vouch for you. You should meet Mother Harper. Then you’ll understand why I’m keeping you waiting.” Jake motioned towards the door with his head, and went inside. Beaupre hesitated for a moment, and then followed him in. River gave herself a good hard shake before coming inside.
When the two men reached the Harper’s apartment, they found the living room empty. He couldn’t hear anyone in the kitchen, either. That could mean only one thing. A wellspring of emotion hit Jake for a moment, but he choked it down and turned to the other man. “Follow me, and stay silent,” he told the Kenoshan. Beaupre nodded, telling River to sit before he followed him into Mother Harper’s room.
Everyone had gathered around her bed. Tom looked up and raised an eyebrow at the Kenoshan, but at Jake’s nod, he quickly turned his attention back to Mother Harper. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was uneven and raspy. No one spoke, as if afraid that the slightest sound would disturb the old woman. That was part of the vigil, too, and perhaps the most important part. One did not speak where you thought Lord Jezias would hear you, lest you catch his attention. He noticed Seth standing with the Harpers, between Abby and little Tommy. His son had his arm around the big young man, who looked vaguely dumbfounded.
Finally, after what seemed like an hour but was probably only fifteen minutes, she gave a last shuddering breath and let it out. Those gathered around her watched her chest, but after a couple minutes it was clear that it would never rise again.
“Mother Harper has gone on her journey,” intoned Fran Harper.
“Lord Jezias guide her,” everyone murmured.
“Who will close the way behind her?” said Fran, looking to her husband.
Jake followed her gaze. It was clear that Tom was starting to panic, but he grabbed the heavy hammer and the spike from the nightstand. Meanwhile, Little Tommy and Seth put a blue tarp under Mother Harper’s body. There was a tension in the air; it was said that those rejected by Lord Jezias would be sent back more quickly, to rise as one of the Gone. Jake didn’t think anyone would ever find Mother Harper unworthy, but actions in life did not seem to effect Lord Jezias’ decisions.
Tom opened his mother’s mouth and placed the spike inside it. “The way is closed, Mother,” he said, his voice heavy with uncried tears. “Mother protect you on the journey. May Lord Jezias accept you.” He raised a hammer over the spike….
And then he held it there. And held it. He seemed carved from stone except for his eyes. He looked down on what had been his mother with such love and grief that Jake felt his own eyes grow moist. He waited a moment, and then cleared his throat. “Tom….do you need…?”
Before Jake had a chance to finish saying it, Tom closed his eyes and brought the hammer down. The spike went down into her mouth and out the back of her neck. It was angled down more than it was supposed to be; you wanted the point to come out at the back of the head, so that Lord Jezias would not be able to hang a Gone’s Sack there. But Jake thought it should be close enough. “The way is closed,” Jake murmured, hearing his words blend in with the chorus of the people around him.
Tom sat back down in the chair he had sat vigil in for so many hours, and dissolved into sobs. Seth and Little Tommy grabbed two corners of the tarp, while Jake and Marty grabbed the other two. Gently, they lifted her body off of the bed and onto the floor. Sara Martinez handed her husband a roll of twine, never taking her eyes off of her mother as Marty tenderly bound the old woman’s feet. When Marty was finished, he passed the roll to Seth, who did the same with her hands. They then wrapped the tarp around the body, so that they could carry it through the door. Jake looked over at his friend, to see if he wanted to carry his mother, but he was oblivious to the world. Sobs wracked his big frame as he leaned against his wife. Fran, for her part, ran her fingers through his curls and whispered comforts to him. Jake looked to Seth, who nodded and grabbed one end of the tarp. Together, father and son lifted the body. Seth grunted a bit; Mother Harper had not been a small woman, even after her sickness. But he didn’t drop her. Together they carried her out the door and into the hallway, out of the apartment, and finally outside.
The sun had fully set by then, and the darkness outside seemed almost palpable. Jake knew the general direction he had to go to get to the pyre he made, but could barely make it out. Thankfully, Marty had thought ahead, and followed the Larkin men out with a lantern. Together, the three of them approached Mother Harper’s pyre. Once they laid her down, they removed the tarp, but not the bindings. It was important that, should Mother Harper’s soul try to return, she would know that her body in this world could go nowhere.
As they removed the tarp from under her, Jake thought he saw swelling above the iron spike. He thought about checking himself
, but decided against it. After what he had been through at Three Ponds, he was probably just seeing things. It was too soon for that, anyway. Tom had recovered himself enough that he had finally come outside, and Jake didn’t want to upset him more by suggesting that he had not closed the way properly. He resolved to get the pyre going sooner rather than later, though.
Tom Jr. was bringing out bales of hay. As quickly as he could in the snow, Jake got them piled into the space he had left. Sara Martinez came out of the arena with a torch lit from Mother Harper’s hearth and handed it to Tom, who took it with mumbled thanks. Abby followed close behind her with the unlit torches, handing one each to Jake, Marty, Sara, Seth, and her mother and brother.
“There are two more torches. Should we wait to see if Mrs. Larkin gets back?” Abby asked.
“No. I don’t think she’ll be coming,” said Jake, eager to finish the ceremony. Hernando handed all of them torches, unlit but with a kerosene soaked rag around its top. When he got to the Kenoshan, Jake cursed himself. There was no way Marty could know that the man didn’t share their faith. But the Jezzite scout merely nodded and thanked him quietly. The nine of them gathered in a circle around Tom, who held his torch out to light his wife’s. “Light the way,” he said softly.
“Light the way,” said Fran, giving her husband a smile of encouragement.
Tom turned slightly, to light Marty’s next. “Light the way.”
Hernando gave him a nod. “Light the way, my brother.”
Slowly, too slow for Jake’s comfort, Tom repeated this five more times. Jake tried to meet his friend’s eyes when his torch was lit, but Tom was looking only at the flame of his own torch. When all the torches were lit, they walked slowly to the pyre and encircled it. Jake tried to find a place near Mother Harper’s head so that he could try to see if that swelling he had seen was real, but ended up at her side by her knees. He prayed to the Mother that Tom would set his torch to the pyre quickly, so that the rest of them might follow suit. But Tom just sat there, staring at his woman who raised him. A chill wind began to blow, cutting through their clothing and threatening to put the torches out. It didn’t seem to faze Tom, though, who continued to stand there, his face a mask of grief and dispair. Finally, Fran reached out and took her husband’s free left hand in hers. Tom seemed to come back a little, and finally put the flame to the hay. It caught quickly as the others set their own torches to the pyre. It didn’t take long for the wood on the pyre to catch, and the blaze quickly got too hot to stand near. The group rejoined upwind of the smoke, watching in silence as the fire roared. Tom Jr. stepped nearer the fire at one point, clearly wanting more of the warmth. His father, however, pulled him back. It was extremely bad luck to get too near an active funeral pyre.
Aspen Vale: A Tale of the Gone Page 7