For the Last Time and Other Tales

by Z.N. Singer

  The Beast reared up and pulled the book in question from the shelf and handed it to her. Sarumah took it back to the nearest reading table, the Beast lumbering close behind.

  “I don't remember a great deal about it,” Sarumah said, putting down the book and thumbing through it while still standing. “It's been a long time since I last read it – but I do remember two things at the moment that matter to you. One was that they never found any signs of struggles or bodies – no remains of those who'd come before of any sort. And...there was some strange kind of beast that dwelled there. They only ever saw it at a distance, never got a good look, but he was sure it was unique to the Innexian forest. Even though he was never able to examine one properly, he made a sketch as best he could. It should be somewhere around this part...” Sarumah's voice trailed off as she turned a page; for a long moment she just stood there, gazing at the open book, her eyes strangely blank. Then she closed her eyes and bowed her head, and silently pushed the book forward towards the Beast.

  The rough sketchy lines would have been almost impossible to recognize alone. But with the Beast standing next to it, the resemblance was unmistakable.

  “So now we know the secret,” Sarumah said tonelessly. Her head remained bowed, hair falling down over her eyes. Her hands, after moving the book, had fallen back limply to catch palms down on the table. “The forest doesn't kill – it possesses. It engulfs the mind and bodies of those who enter, and makes them part of itself. Changes them into its own unique inhabitants. But you were able to retain some awareness of your humanity, so you left. The fabled secret of the Innexian Forest – now we know. I am the first to know – I will be put in many books for this.” A strange, wavery gasping sound emerged from behind her hair, and her arms straightened and stiffened, strained and trembling against the wood.

  A tear fell from behind the curtain of tresses, to splash against the wooden tabletop.

  “We are the first – and the only. The only ones...”

  Abruptly, Sarumah flung herself onto the Beast's right arm, hands buried and clenched in his fur as she sobbed into the space below his shoulder. “Oh Beast, Beast, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please forgive me I'm sorry, I can't keep my promise, I can't keep it! Nobody knows...nobody else knows anything about what's happened to you, anything at all! Nobody knows – the Innexian Forest was a complete mystery until today. Nobody knows, nobody can help, not a single book in my library can help, and I – I hardly know anything either. I don't know how...I don't know how to change you back...and now there's nobody else to turn to anymore. Nobody knows...nobody knows anything about you.”

  “I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry...even though I promised you...even though...I've never failed anyone before...oh for Life's sake forgive me Beast, I don't know how to change you! I may never be able to change you. I've failed you...I've failed...I'm so sorry...forgive me...oh please Beast forgive me...”

  At first he only looked at her, looked down at her as she sobbed, his face a mask of disbelieving grief as her words slowly permeated through his mind. His left hand came up, almost absentmindedly, to cradle her against him: his head bowed till his chin hit his chest.

  And then he raised his head all the way to the skies and let out the first truly bestial noise Sarumah had ever heard him make: wild, grief laden pain roared out of his mouth and echoed off the walls, a lament of the wildman, the overwhelmingly lonely tone of the wolf and the harsh pain of the wounded tiger blended with his soul, the soul of a man, and filled the room from his mouth; again and again, he screamed his pain to the world, as he held as tightly as he safely could to his only comfort, crying with him, doing her meager best to embrace his vast form in turn.

  “Oh Beast...oh Beast...I'm so sorry. Oh Beast. Oh my Beast...my Gentle Beast...”

  “You may stay here as long as you wish,” Sarumah said, some time later. After the Beast's grief had run out and turned to silence. Somewhere along the way, their positions had changed: the Beast now half crouched, half lay on the floor, and Sarumah was curled in the space between arm and neck, cradling his head with her arms and body. It was the best she'd been able to do. “I know it is not what you came for, but if nothing else I can offer you safe haven, a home where you will be treated as the human you are. Anything else I can give you...I will. I cannot return your form – but I won't let you endure it alone. You will stay, won't you Beast?”

  The Beast turned his head slightly, leaning into her embrace. “Good,” she said, softly. “Good.”

  “I'm glad.”

  They stayed that way for a long time – all the way until the dinner bell rang. It was a gentle chime, almost apologetic – the house's way of saying 'aren't you going to eat at all?'

  “Come on,” Sarumah said, getting up. “We can't do this forever. Come on, get up. It will be all right, you'll see. I'll find ways to make you happy here. And who knows...what's possible may change over time. It often does, you know. Get up.”

  And, slowly, the Beast did.

  After dinner, both of them settled back, quietly at loss. Until now there had never been any doubt what would be done next. There had been a clear goal, an agenda. Now Sarumah found herself wondering what one did together with company really. She'd only ever played host to them – this was a sort of social situation she'd never dealt with.

  “I know – lets go to the garden. I promised you a share, remember? I think it's time you picked one.”

  So they did – they went outside and wandered together through the many rows of plants and flowers and vines. Sarumah found herself wishing the Beast could tell her his thoughts – she was sure he knew all kinds of things about her own garden that she did not. Even though it had been here all her life, just by walking through it with him, it seemed different. Seeing his wonder, his tenderness as he parted or patted leaves and stems with monstrous hands, it unfolded the beauty of it before her, and she had never wished so much he could talk. And yet...in some way...he really did seem to talk. She was amazed how much could be said with silence, with expression and poise and gaze. She found herself slipping into his language, the one his form had taught him. It was a good language. It was a language with many words. She was sorry she'd never spoken it before.

  When he stopped by the glade, she knew he'd made his choice.

  “Here, then?” She asked, to be sure.

  He nodded. It was the space that surrounded the back entrance, a low doorway in the walls that surrounded her property, closed by metal grate doors more decorative than functional, as befitted a house protected by powerful magic. The space immediately in front of the door bloomed outward in a round enclosed glade floored in paving stones, before wandering off in two thin lines through the garden. The door was not often used, but it was her favorite way in or out when she did have occasion to leave.

  The Beast moved to stand in the middle of the stone space, evaluating the area around him. Here the plants had been grown tall, thick luscious bushes and vines along the walls. The bounty extended overhead: the two paths leading out were framed by roses that twined thickly, climbing high and bulging outward, dangling their petals about. The space between the two paths was the source of the vines, linking the two with varicolored blossoms. It was a wonderful place. She could see the peaceful satisfaction on his face, and did not begrudge him jurisdiction over one of her favorite parts of her garden. She was sure he would take care of it. Why, he could even reach the high parts!

  “Do you want anything else, or will you just take care of this area here?”

  The Beast paused, then reared up on his hind legs to look out beyond the green wall. He made a spread fingered gesture vaguely indicating that he would like the no-spell zone to extend a little ways further in from the glade edge. “All right, as you wish. Anything else at all?”

  The pause this time was different – the Beast was thinking, not about what he wanted, but whether to ask. Slowly, he returned to his usual four legged stance. And then, he gestured towards the gate, fingers pointed to ind
icated the space beyond.

  “That land? It belongs to no one, you don't need my permission to do anything there. If you stay close to the walls you shouldn't meet anybody either. But why, what do you want it for? Do you want to have something you started yourself?”

  But this time, the Beast's language was inexpressive. His reasons were his own. Sarumah bowed to that wish.

  “Very well. Just as you ask then. This area will be left alone by the spells – everything that happens to it from now on will be your doing. Take good care of it, it's my favorite place here.”

  It always amazed her how something who looked like he did, could so clearly and sweetly smile. He hardly even used his mouth.

  It was his language.

  Over the next few days, Sarumah adjusted to the idea of a permanent companion. The truth was she'd lived alone in the house since her father died five years before. Aside from the occasional visitor, she'd been left to spend her time as she wished. She could still spend it as she wished, but the presence of another had a much stronger influence than she'd expected. She'd used to spend most of her time just quietly poring through pages. She still spent a lot of time with a book, but her progress was much slowed by sharing it with the Beast, who never grew tired of hearing her explain. She should have been annoyed by the delays, she thought. Study was important to a mage.

  But she wasn't. Instead, when he wasn't in the library with her, she'd take a book out to the garden to be with him. Often those times were spent in silent reading while he tended the garden, but somehow reading in the sun with the Beast moving about nearby was entirely different from reading the same book at the table in the library. And it was a difference she sought. At some point she had to confess to herself that rather than resenting any of the effects he'd had on her life, she was wondering how she'd never thought to feel lonely before.

  Somehow, evenings had become their reading hour. Oh, reading occurred in some form all the time, but evenings were when she picked a book especially for reading aloud, and went out into the garden, where the Beast would crouch in an empty spot near a bench, and she would sit and read to him. When he laid out like that, his head was not much higher than hers sitting. Sometimes, when they wanted to read where there was no such convenient convergence of space and seat, the Beast, crouched, would crook one arm, and she would sit nestled within the hollow it created, leaning back against his shoulder and neck. It was a very warm and cozy way to sit, and she was rather disconcerted to discover one morning that she had fallen asleep that way, and spent the night with the Beast's head laid in front of her, enclosing her almost perfectly in his warm thick fur.

  It was disconcerting, but also very peaceful. The morning sun had only recently come of a height to meet her eyes, and had laid wavering plays of light and shadow over her and the Beast's great head in front of her, and all around as well. There was something magical about it, and Sarumah found herself wriggling out of the snug little Beast nest as quietly as she could to savor it alone. Walking slowly along the line of roses between the paths, she admired the fine color and vibrancy the flowers had gained. Plants did everything so gradually you didn't notice right away, but now that she was looking so closely, examining the effects of this new light, she was sure that the flowers were doing even better than they had under the spells. They seemed almost aglow. Life shone out from every color, every leaf and petal. The more she looked, the more she marveled. However had he had such an effect so quickly?

  It was only once she'd actually thought the question that she was actually confounded by the lack of an answer. Brow wrinkled slightly, she walked a little more quickly, heading for the nearest of the two paths and going along it until she reached the border between the Beast's garden and hers. The difference, now she looked for it, was immediate and obvious. She walked further, until she found another patch of roses. She examined them, then hurried back to the Beast's clearing to see the ones he'd been tending again. Fingering the leaves with gentle wonder, there was no longer any doubt.

  “Oh my Beast...no wonder you were able to leave the Innexian Forest. It's magic could never have fully deceived one such as you.” She turned to look at the Beast, eager to share her discovery and hoping he was awake. He wasn't, and she had to resist the urge to wake him up quite hard. Instead she sat herself where she would be the first thing he saw when he woke up and waited. Her eagerness must have still been very obvious when he did, because he immediately raised his head and looked at her in an inquiring way as if to say, 'what?'

  “Beast, have you compared your flowers with the others?”

  He looked puzzled, and perhaps a bit tense. He hadn't, and was not sure why she'd asked. He half rose, his gaze slightly more intense. He hadn't ruined them had he?

  “Oh no, nothing like that Beast, the opposite. You must look for yourself, it's amazing. Have you ever compared your gardening this way before? No? I thought so. It is amazing, you must look, I want you to see for yourself.”

  So the Beast was bemusedly led on a brief tour – one that ended with him much more alert and prepared to pay attention.

  “It's magic Beast, there really is no other way. It's called the Green Touch, and it means plants respond to you: they are happier, grow more and faster, are healthier, just do better in all ways when you care for them. It's usually mutual,” she added, a warm tease in her crinkled eyes and quirked mouth. “The results can be very remarkable when you put your mind to it, just look at what you've done in only three days. It's a very rare gift, Beast,” she said, smiling at him. “And very special, at least to my mind. A subtle and beautiful gift of life. It suits you.”

  At first, the Beast smiled back at her, in his own unique way. Then he looked back at the flowers, and a distant look of bittersweet thought crossed his face, and stayed there, as he slowly reached out to lightly touch the swaying, bountiful blossoms of roses. Sarumah watched, slightly concerned, as he looked in the direction of the flowers, and yet so clearly saw something else. Then the Beast looked back, towards the gate through which he'd occasionally left to work on something, something he had not wanted Sarumah to see. When he finally looked at Sarumah again, she knew he wanted something important. Unconsciously, she mimicked his language, letting the tilt of her head and the slight widening of her eyes tell him she was ready to hear. The Beast turned back to the roses and – after a brief hesitation to think – he mimed plucking motions, and gestured behind him.

  “You want to pick flowers for something?” The Beast shook his head, and gestured towards the roots. “You want to transplant some? To grow more somewhere else?” The Beast nodded. She had no idea why this brought such a serious expression to his face. But if it meant something to him, she was happy to grant it. She could only offer him so much less than he wanted, after all – or deserved.

  “Of course. Take as many as you like. With you tending them they'll grow back soon enough anyway.”

  She'd thought he'd simply scoop a few up and go, but apparently you had to be much more careful when transplanting flowers, and it took him a few minutes to gather the samples he wanted – six small bundles of roots and stems, only a few leaves and blossoms apiece. She waited patiently, hoping that now would be the time that the Beast would allow her to see what he had made beyond the gate, that lay so close to his heart. When he finished, he met her eyes for a moment – and when he turned away towards the gate, she knew she'd been given tacit permission to follow.

  At first, she didn't understand at all. While she'd really had no idea what to expect, three mounds of earth and rock, one larger than the rest, did not seem to fit. But then she saw the Beast begin to plant the flower around the bases of the mounds, and she understood. She felt tears gather in the corner of her eyes.

  Cairns.

  There was no one waiting for her Beast after all...not anymore.

  “Oh Beast....this is why you went into the Forest isn't it? But it stole your sense of time, and you arrived too late. This...is a monument to your family.�
�

  Watching him carefully plant the roses about the mounds made her heart ache, and thinking about what they meant made her fingers itch with the need to contribute, to use her magic to add some touch to these memories of the Beast's family, who had meant so much to him. But at the same time she knew, without even needing to ask, that it was not wanted. This was the Beast's labor, to be made by his hands alone.

  All she could do, in the end, was the same sole thing she'd ever been able to offer. She stood by him, and let him know he felt nothing alone.

  The graves would look very beautiful, she knew. Once the roses had grown to cover them.

  The graves were beautiful. Within a week, the vines of thorns and blooms had crawled up over two thirds of the mounds, and already they looked beautiful. The Beast tended it often now that he was no longer trying to keep it private, but Sarumah generally left him alone there. But she would read in the glade, where he could see her, and know she was there. And if he stayed too long, sometimes she would go in with him, and stand next to him, one hand on his shoulder, until he was ready to leave. It was not a signal to hurry: they both understood that very well. It was just what she felt she needed to do. And after this long of his silent language, she felt certain she'd know if he'd resented it, if he wanted her to leave. He was that good at conveying his mood, his feelings. So she came in to him, whenever she felt it right, and stayed by him, for as long as he took. Because his silence said he was grateful.