by Linda Mooney
“One more thing, my Minna who is Gova. When you die, will my granddaughter also die?”
Gova bit her lower lip and nodded. “Yes. I am sorry.”
The woman patted her hand. “Do not be. It is the will of the Almighty.”
Foca’s tone sparked something inside her, and Gova ventured to ask one more question. “Are you…a sorceress, too?”
The elderly woman cackled. “I have been called many things, but sorceress is not one of them.”
Someone called out Foca’s name. She waved a greeting at the woman, who came over to exchange pleasantries. Leaving the two alone, Gova got to her feet and scanned the crowd.
There was very little she could expect whenever she awoke in her new life. Other than their coming to, their meeting, and their immediate deaths, the rest was a complete mystery. She couldn’t foresee how she and Muam would die. If there was anything to be grateful for, it was that her death, and she prayed the same held for Muam, was quick. However, it was not without pain.
A face appeared in the distance, briefly seen in a parting in the crowd. Gova gasped and remained perfectly still, until she was certain she had not been imagining it. When Muam came back into sight, she could tell he was searching for her. His head swiveled around, and his golden eyes lit up when he spotted her.
She ran to him, arms wide open to embrace him. He swept her up, twirling her around in relief. They didn’t speak. They let their kiss speak for them as the people swarmed past them, unconcerned about the couple clinging to each other.
Muam continued to brush her cheek and forehead with his lips as he lowered her until her feet touched the ground. “Gova. My Gova. My beloved Gova.”
“You must be Muam.”
Stunned, Gova felt his embrace tighten. Opening her eyes, she looked over at where Foca stood an arm’s length away. The old woman’s smile was warm, even though tears glittered on her weathered face.
“How…”
“I told her about us,” Gova quickly explained to him. “She knows about the curse.”
He frowned slightly. “Why did you tell her?”
“What harm would it cause? We are not long for this life. I am in such deep sadness whenever I awaken, I needed comfort. I needed someone to confide in. In this life, I am Foca’s granddaughter. She has the right to know.”
Muam pressed another kiss between her eyes, then turned to the old woman. “Thank you, Foca, for providing my beloved with some surcease.”
“That is not all I can provide,” the old woman said, and gestured for them to follow her. She led them into a short alleyway, out of the main hustle and bustle. Once they were in a more private area, Foca faced them. “Allow me this final act before you leave this life. Please kneel.”
Without questioning why, they did as requested. Gova watched as the old woman reached out and placed a hand on her and Muam’s heads.
“I chose late in my own life to follow the teachings of my lord and savior. I am an abbess, and I will bless your union and make it sacrosanct. Gova, Muam, given what you have endured, and for what you still must endure, I give you the one thing you have been deprived of. I pronounce you husband and wife, and I pray that your souls find eternal happiness when you finally reach the end of your journey.”
Grabbing her hand, Muam kissed the thin wrist. “Thank you, Foca. Thank you. I wish there was some way we could repay you.”
Foca made a disparaging sound. “You have already paid me by giving me something I have always been lacking.”
“What is that?” Gova whispered.
“Hope. And love. I have seen too little of it, but you two have quenched my thirst.”
Gova looked to Muam, her chin trembling as the realization crystallized. “We are married. We are married, my husband!”
He responded with a kiss that was warmer than the sun shining overhead. She was vaguely aware of the noise of the crowd in the street behind them, or the birds squawking as they flew overhead. It wasn’t until an odd clanging sound caught everyone’s attention.
Muam jumped to his feet, pulling Gova up beside him. “What is that? Is that a warning?”
“It is the town bell,” Foca informed them, a worried expression crossing her face. “The bell should not be tolling at this time, unless…”
She was cut off when the ground beneath them suddenly jerked sideways. Gova and Muam tried to snatch her to keep her from falling, when several loud explosions rent the air. The ground undulated beneath their feet, throwing them off-balance. Screams filled the streets, and people tried to run for safety. Around them, enormous cracks snaked up the walls of the buildings, and spread out across the road. In the blink of an eye, a huge fissure opened up, dividing the town in two.
A portion of the building next to them fell almost on top of them. Muam grabbed Gova’s hand. At the same time, he threw his other arm around Foca’s waist. “Run! Get away from the buildings!”
They struggled to thread their way through the streets, past buildings which collapsed from the onslaught. The ground continued to bounce and shake, and the sky pelted them with dust and bits of plaster and rock as they tried to escape the death trap that the town had become.
Foca tried to show them a way out, but at every turn that way was blocked with fallen or falling debris. They backtracked to the next street, when a hole opened up in the ground, and the building in front of them disappeared into it.
Gova tried to turn around, when the ground gave way. She found herself falling into the crack, but Muam managed to tighten his grip on her hand. He landed hard on his belly and chest, but their connection remained firm. Letting go of Foca, he stretched out his other arm to her.
“Take my hand!”
She fought to reach him. The ground continued to crumble away as the earth kept shaking, making it impossible for her to get a hand or foothold to keep herself from dropping farther into the enlarging hole.
A wave of lassitude came over her, and she realized their struggle was futile. Digging her fingers into the loosened soil, she met his eyes.
“Muam, let me go.”
He gave her an astonished look. “No!”
“Muam, this is our time. Let me go, and come with me.” Her fear was gone, replaced with a sense of calm that she welcomed.
He paused, understanding what she was telling him. Glancing over at where Foca knelt, watching, the old woman nodded and made a sign in the air.
“Blessings on you both. Go with God.”
She’d barely uttered the words when the entire wall of the building behind her toppled forward, crushing the old woman underneath the rubble. Muam turned a stricken face to Gova, who stared at him through tear-filled eyes.
“My love.” His lips moved, but she never heard what he said. The ground quaked with renewed vigor, like a dog shaking water off its coat. Gova felt his grip loosen. Before she could call out to him, he pitched forward into the hole, along with her. He managed to grab her blouse, pulling her down with him as the world above disintegrated.
They were not conscious when the building on the other side of the alley crumbled, filling the hole and burying the two lovers for all eternity.
Chapter 13
Europe, 1350
Muam blinked. A yell came from behind him, and he reacted instinctively, whirling around to block what his inner self told him was another weapon. The piece of wood came down to strike him on the head, but he managed to deflect it at the last moment.
The young boy pointed a finger at him and laughed. “You flinched! You flinched! I win! I defeat you! I am the Emperor now!”
Muam stared at the slender tree branch he was holding. It was crooked and too supple to be of any use other than as a toy. Stripped of all leaves, the guard consisted of two broken limbs branching off. But it wasn’t the pretend sword that left him breathless. It was the small hand holding it.
His hand.
Muam touched his face. There was no mistaking the lack of a beard, or the thinner planes of his face. He g
lanced down to stare at the child body he inhabited. At the pronounced ribcage and the lack of musculature. He wasn’t a man. He couldn’t be more than seven or eight seasons old.
His opponent derided him again. Ignoring him, Muam threw his stick down and walked away. The boy seemed to have a change of heart, and ran after him.
“Horhesh! Horhesh, where you going?”
For the first time since the curse began, Muam had no idea where he was going. There was no purpose in his footsteps. No inner sense of destination telling him where to go. He stopped in his tracks and surveyed his surroundings.
This wasn’t a prosperous town. If anything, it appeared to have just suffered a devastating event, but it was impossible to tell what kind, or how long ago it had happened. The homes and buildings appeared ravaged, as if they’d been in the path of an opposing army, and this was the result. Most of the dilapidated structures lacked walls or a portion of the roof, thus exposing the people inside to the elements. Fireplaces were missing some of the chimney. But what concerned him the most was something that took him a bit longer to figure out.
Where are the people?
In the distance, a lone man limped on his way to somewhere. Nearby, a woman poked a small fire with a stick in the ruins of her home. There was no one else in sight. Muam glanced up at the sun. It was either early morning or long past the middle of the day. Regardless, there should be others. Where was everyone else?
“Horhesh.” The other boy caught up with him. “We are staying tonight at the mill.” He said something further, but he was drowned out by a loud baying.
Muam whirled around, his body tense. “What is that?”
“The dogs,” the boy replied. “That is why we are gathering at the mill tonight. We think it is the safest place when they come tonight.”
“Tonight?” Muam frowned at him. “Who is we?”
The boy looked confused. “You know. Me and you, and Tosha, and Karliff, and Bascoff.”
“Are all of us…young?” He didn’t know exactly how to ask the question. The child was already suspicious of his new behavior, but Muam didn’t have the time nor the patience to explain.
The boy continued to give him a perplexed look. “What are you talking about?”
“What about the parents? Our parents? Why are we not going home to them where they can protect us?”
A look of horror, followed by deep sorrow, came over the boy’s face. “Horhesh, our parents are dead. How did you forget that?”
Our parents are dead. Muam glanced around, this time seeing everything with a new eye. In a sense, he was correct in thinking this place had been through a major disaster. There was no telling how many had died. What he was seeing was the aftermath. The survivors. He glanced over at where the child still grasped the piece of wood he’d been pretending was a sword.
Children survive because they have the gift of escaping into a world where they are always the hero. Always the conqueror. Always the winner, who defeats the cruel and evil tyrant, thus saving all of mankind.
This was why he was a child in this life. A child who would not survive much longer, but who, ironically, had survived something so great that there was little left of his original life—if anything.
A sound caught his attention. The boy had tossed his stick onto the ground. “I am hungry. Want to come with me to find something to eat?”
At the mention of eating, Muam felt his stomach clench. He look down at himself again. At his dirty feet, and his thin arms and legs. His pants and shirt were filthy and ragged. His sandals were almost to the point of falling apart. How he had managed to survive this long was a miracle. Sadly, Muam knew he would not live long enough to reach adulthood.
“Where to?” he asked the child. Smiling, the boy took off, and Muam hurried after him.
They scavenged for whatever they could find among the empty houses, although it was evident that the places had been cleaned out long ago of everything worthwhile, edible or otherwise. They ended up going out into the fields and pulling up plants and grasses, and eating those. Muam forced himself to consume the raw, foul-tasting roots, throwing up once, but he persisted. In the back of his mind, he wondered if his death would come from eating these plants. He couldn’t identify them, so it was possible they were poisonous. He stared at his stained and dirt-encrusted hands. No. The plants wouldn’t be his demise because it would mean a long, drawn-out, agonizing death, and that was one thing the gods hadn’t cursed him and Gova with. For all the demises she and he had suffered, they had been quick.
A howl interrupted them. It was followed by another not too far away. Muam’s companion checked the field of high grass around them. “We must leave. The dogs are also hungry.”
To his surprise, Muam realized it was starting to get dark. The gods had begun to drag the great ball of light into the ground and out of sight, where they would snuff it out until they were ready to relight it and send it back up into the heavens.
It had been countless lifetimes ago since he’d seen the darkness. Or the sister silver white goddess, who threw handfuls of sparkling lights in her wake when she traveled across the black sky. If, indeed, he wasn’t fated to die until later, it would be a first in… He bowed his head. He’d lost count of how many lives he and Gova had been through. But he knew they were nowhere close to reaching that promised one thousandth reincarnation.
“Horhesh!” the boy hissed at him. “We must hurry!”
Muam raced after the child, who wound his way between abandoned buildings. There were areas where the stench of a decayed carcass assailed them, but he and the boy didn’t check out the source of the retched odor. There was the possibility that it was the carcasses that were drawing the pack of dogs.
They reached the edge of the town where a small stream flowed. The both of them dropped to their knees to drink several handfuls of water. Muam took a sniff of the liquid and thought he detected an odd odor clinging to the water. Although he couldn’t swear the water wasn’t tainted, he drank it anyway, as it appeared to be the only source within miles.
The mill was situated not too far away, on the stream’s bank. The water wheel still turned, but Muam doubted it was used anymore for its original purpose. A howl sent shivers through him, and the two scrambled to make it to the building and safety.
When the boy slammed the door behind them, Muam found themselves plunged into near darkness. A voice at the far end of the room whispered, “Who goes there?”
“Kiret and Horhesh,” Muam’s companion answered, also in a whisper. “Karliff? Is that you?”
“Yeah. Follow the sound of my voice. When you reach the ladder, go up it. We are up in the loft.”
Muam strained to see through the deepening gloom as he scrambled up the rickety wood ladder to the upper area where piles of empty sacks were stored. He and Kiret followed the young man to the back area where part of the roof was missing. Three more figures were seated there. Pulling a sack off a pile, Muam laid it on the wood floor and joined them.
“We heard the dogs,” Kiret told them.
“We heard them, too,” Karliff remarked. “They are no longer afraid to come into the village.”
“I heard they took Mysali’s baby and dragged it away,” another boy stated. “She went after them to get her baby back, and they attacked her.”
Karliff glanced around. “Where is Tosha?”
“Ordan went after her. He said she was acting funny, and wandered away.”
He said she was acting funny. Gova? Muam perked up. “Does he need help looking for her?”
Before the boy could answer, they heard the door below slam shut. Not long after, footsteps came up the ladder. Two dark forms appeared and slowly made their way toward the others.
Karliff spoke up. “Ordan?”
“Here.”
“Tosha?”
“I am here.” The voice was young and sounded nothing like Gova, but Muam had to find out.
“Gova?”
A gasp. “Muam?�
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He saw a figure stand, and he held out his arms. “Over here. Follow the sound of my voice.” He heard her shuffling her feet as she approached him. A hand brushed his arm, and he grabbed it. She dropped next to him, and they wrapped their arms around each other.
“Who is Gova and Muam?” a voice queried.
“They are names we gave each other,” Gova told them. She propped her chin on his shoulder and whispered in his ear, “Can we go somewhere else to talk?”
He answered her by getting to his feet and helping her up. “We are going downstairs to talk,” he announced to the others.
“Talk about what?” Karliff asked.
“Stuff,” Gova responded. Although it was vague, it was enough to satisfy their curiosity. Carefully, the two of them climbed down the ladder and made their way over to the enormous wheel of stone where grain was ground into the flour. He drew an arm around her thin waist and noticed how pronounced her ribs were. Finding her face with his other hand, they softly kissed.
“We are children this time around,” she murmured, deliberately keeping her voice low. “This has never happened to us before.”
Muam gave a nod, knowing she may not be able to see it. At the moment, everything was in shadow. “It is also night. My memory is somewhat hazy, but I do not think we have lived long enough to see the darkness come over the land in any of our past lives.”
“You are not wrong. I had almost forgotten what it is like. Muam, what number is this one? Do you know? I lost track long ago.”
“So have I.”
There was a slight pause before she ventured again. “Is it possible this is our last life? Maybe we returned as children because we are now able to grow up together.”
“Gova, have you looked around at the village? It has been destroyed. There are hardly any people left. Something or someone has decimated the villagers, and we are among the handful of survivors.”