He’d spent enough time thinking about other matters. He had work to do. As the souls of the dead bandits took shape over their bodies, there was a great deal of wailing, gnashing of teeth, pulling of hair, and miscellaneous terror, anger, and frustration. Few mortals handled their deaths well. The cactus fellow had actually challenged Death to a battle of wits, which had gone about as well as could be expected given that he’d met his end after he’d gotten drunk and wrestled a poisonous cactus naked. Evildoers were often amongst the most reluctant to accept their demise, which was a shame since they usually had it coming on account of their villainy and malevolence. Someone who’d spent the past several years robbing, murdering, and enslaving other people had no right to complain about being crushed by a tree. If anything, they should be thankful that it hadn’t happened sooner. Death waited patiently for the bandits to stop bemoaning their fate long enough to notice him.
He smiled. “Good morning.”
The braver bandits drew their weapons, not that it would do them any good. The spiritual representations of mortals tended to mirror the way mortals viewed themselves, right down to appearance, clothing, and weaponry. Of course, their weapons wouldn’t help at all. He was Death. They’d have an easier time killing a dragon with a pillow than hurting him. The smarter ones immediately began to stammer prayers and bow in a pathetic bid to win his favour. It wouldn’t work. His job was incredibly simple when it came to people like them. He would claim their souls and send them off to the afterlife, so Justice could judge them. Given their previous conduct, it didn’t take a genius to know which version of the afterlife they were going to. Torment would have plenty of fun with this lot. It wouldn’t surprise Death if the other god’s punishment involved trees in some form or another, or perhaps Torment would go with the angry villager scenario again. Being brutally beaten and stabbed to death by the spectres of angry villagers for centuries on end had a way of making people question their choices in life.
“Good morning,” Death said again as he stepped forward. He passed right through the fallen tree as if it weren’t there at all. “I assume all of you know who I am, so I think you know what happens next.”
Utter pandemonium broke out. He almost rolled his eyes. He would have too if he didn’t have an image to protect. It wasn’t like they didn’t know he’d show up, but they were acting like they didn’t know how this whole thing was supposed to go. He’d gotten his clergy to write a thorough guide to help people prepare for his arrival and ensure passage to the good part of the afterlife, as opposed to the part dedicated to indescribable suffering and limitless despair. It never ceased to amaze him how few mortals bothered to read it. Oh well. Just because mortals had free will didn’t mean they knew how to use it properly.
Confronted with the possibility of centuries of torment in the bad part of the afterlife, some of the bandits mustered their courage and charged toward him with their weapons drawn. He sighed, and they were all pinned in place, unable to move even a single inch. He was one of the Greater Gods. His will alone could crush a normal god, so a mortal had no hope of defying him.
“How impolite. You should let me finish. Now, as I was saying, you all know what happens next. Today, however, things are going to be a little different.” He smiled although all the bandits could see was the quirk of his lips and the unsettling gleam in his eyes. His hood hid the rest of his face. It didn’t matter. If they’d still had physical bodies, they would have wet themselves. “It’s all right,” he said, addressing someone who had yet to make an appearance. “You can come here now. I think they’re ready to meet you.”
A small door of infinite darkness appeared beside Death and swung open. A child stepped out of it, and the door shut behind her and vanished. The child was dressed in much the same manner as Death, but she was a great deal smaller, perhaps the same height as a mortal child of five or six. Eyes of indefinable colour peered out from the hood of a cloak woven of limitless shadow. An overly large scythe was draped over the girl’s right shoulder, and she smiled up at Death before turning her attention back to the bandits. It was like Death had acquired a tiny copycat.
Death smiled gently – far more gently than the bandits would ever have believed possible – and reached down to pat the child’s shoulder. Pride filled his voice as he spoke. “I would like to introduce you to someone very special. I’m afraid that she’s still quite shy. She wasn’t created all that long ago, you see, and this is her first trip to the mortal world on family business. But you know how it is – if you want your children to follow in your footsteps, you have to get them started early.”
“Children?” one of the bandits stuttered. Death tilted his head to one side. The bandit could still talk. Impressive. The majority of people would have been rendered utterly speechless by their mind-numbing terror. He’d have to reward his courage with an answer, and it wasn’t like he could keep this a secret for much longer. Everyone was bound to find out.
“When the Supreme Mother and Supreme Father created the mortal world, there weren’t many mortals. Since then, you’ve all gone forth a multiplied – a lot.” Death chuckled, drawing a giggle from the girl beside him. The bandits’ terror only grew. What kind of person could giggle in Death’s presence? “My powers are vast. Even if there were trillions upon trillions of mortals, I still wouldn’t feel even the slightest strain. I’ve also established a system that allows various other gods and spirits to help when necessary. But what if I want to take a holiday? Or what if I want to relinquish my duties for some reason or another? Things would get a lot trickier. Hence, I decided to take certain steps.” He nodded at the child beside him. “This is my daughter. She will be assisting me in my duties, and she will undoubtedly receive duties of her own in the future.” He chuckled again at the shock on the bandits’ faces. “Ah, you must be wondering where she came from. Allow me to enlighten you. I am her father, but Life is her mother. She has a brother too, but he takes more after her mother than me.”
Death paused for a moment. Life’s predicament was a mirror of his although somewhat less obvious. People might not notice if no new life was created for a single day, but they would definitely notice if nothing died. “As for her name… I’ve never been good with names. My sister – Bureaucracy – suggested naming her Death Version Two for simplicity, but even I think that’s a terrible idea. Instead, I’ve chosen to go with something else. For the time being, her name will be Young Death. Later, when she’s ready, she will choose her own name.” He relaxed his powers and allowed the bandits to move again. None of them tried to flee. Instead, they arranged themselves into a rough battle formation. Good. They’d realised the futility of trying to escape, so they were planning to fight. “As part of her education and training, my daughter needs to grow accustomed to collecting the souls of mortals. You will be providing her with some valuable practice.”
So that was Death’s game? The bandits burst into hysterical laughter. This had to be some kind of crazy dream. Death somehow had a daughter – and with Life no less – and she was going to claim their souls? Ridiculous. The girl didn’t even feel like a god. All of the gods, Death included, had an aura of indefinable glory and majesty unless they chose to suppress it. Even then, there was usually still something about them, something intangible and inexplicable that drew the eye and stirred the soul. This… Young Death didn’t have anything like that. If they hadn’t been staring right at her, they wouldn’t even have realised she was there at all. She had absolutely no presence whatsoever, a stark contrast to the dark and terrible splendour her supposed father had.
“How rude. You need to work on your manners.” Death gestured with one hand. “Go, daughter. Show them the error of their ways.” He smiled gently. “And don’t worry about holding back. I know you’ve been practicing concealing your presence, but we can work more on that next time.”
The eruption of divine power that followed Death’s words was beyond monstrous. It paralysed the bandits again, and Death felt every m
ortal creature for miles and miles around flee, driven by primal, instinctive terror. His daughter was quite the chip off the old block. She was already incredibly powerful, but she would have to learn to control her power better. At the moment, it was all or nothing. Moderation was still something that did not come easily to her although time and practice would definitely help. Slowly, very slowly, the surge of divine energy faded as Young Death took control of her power. Her eyes were opalescent pools filled with childish delight. Finally, she would have a chance to show her father what she could do.
She moved.
Her scythe vanished in a blur of impossibly fast motion. Whenever it touched a bandit, the bandit vanished, sent to the afterlife to face Justice’s judgement. The bandits fought at first. They really did. But it soon became obvious that fighting was pointless. Instead, they ran, not that it made much of a difference. With impressive speed and efficiency, Young Death dealt with all of them before she returned to her father’s side. In time, she wouldn’t even need her scythe. She would be like him, capable of claiming souls with less than a thought. Still, his daughter had done wonderfully, considering these were the first souls she’d claimed.
Young Death did her best to maintain an appropriately serious demeanour, but if she’d been a puppy, Death was certain that her tail would have been wagging furiously. It was utterly adorable, and Death couldn’t stop himself from reaching into her hood and ruffling her hair. She must have gotten this part of her personality from Life because he couldn’t remember being anywhere near this adorable, even as a young god. Admittedly, it had been aeons since his creation, but he was fairly sure he’d remember acting like this. Perhaps he should ask the Supreme Mother and Supreme Father. They had created him, so they should remember what he’d been like as a young god. However, he would have to be careful. Nothing pleased them more than to regale their children with embarrassing stories from their youth, and Death had a reputation to maintain.
“Did I do well, father?” Young Death asked. She sounded exactly like a little girl of five or six.
“You did very well.”
Death thought about simply returning to his realm with her, but if she were going to take on more of his duties, it would be good for her to see more of the mortal world. It would also benefit her to see good mortals, as opposed to simply the dregs of their kind. There was certainly wickedness in mortals – he knew that better than almost any god – but there was definitely a lot of good in them too. It was part of having free will. Some mortals made good choices, but others made bad ones. And what sort of father would he be if he didn’t spoil her a little after she’d done so well?
“There is a festival taking place in this kingdom’s capital. Would you like to go? I understand that there is plenty of cake, candy, and other such things.”
“Cake? Candy?” His daughter’s eyes gleamed brightly, and Death bit back a smile. Justice had something of a sweet tooth, and she’d taken to sharing some of her sweets with Young Death whenever the young god came to watch her judge mortals. “Can we go?”
“We can, but we will not be teleporting all the way there. It would draw far too much attention since you’re still learning to disguise your power. I would also like you to see more of the mortal world. We will be walking the last few miles on foot. This should also give you a chance to practice walking around in mortal guise. Believe me, it will be a useful skill for you to have in our line of work.”
“I’ll do my best, father!”
* * *
The old man had been making candy for almost as long as he could remember. The kingdom had gone through its ups and downs over the years, but the capital had remained reasonably prosperous for the better part of a century and a half. His father had been a candy maker, as had his father and his father before him. The old man’s son was a candy maker too, and both his grandson and his granddaughter were learning the trade as well. He took great pride in his family’s history. No family had been making candy in the capital as long as his, and their stall at the festival had been amongst the most popular stalls since his father’s time. Indeed, it wasn’t uncommon for even nobles to visit the stall or his family’s shop to procure the finest sweets in the kingdom.
The old man should have retired years ago. His family was more than prosperous enough to support him, and he had nothing left to prove. He had even won praise from the king himself after devising a batch of candy that was perfectly suited for the king’s palate. However, he enjoyed making candy and seeing the joy it brought to people too much to simply retire, and nowhere was this joy more evident than at the festival. He was scanning the crowd for potential customers when he noticed a little girl wandering toward the stall. His brows furrowed. Children that young shouldn’t be left to wander the festival alone. However, there was something unusual about her. She was able to slip through the crowd completely unnoticed, and he found it increasingly difficult to keep track of her appearance. It was as if the more he concentrated on her appearance, the more the details slipped away from him. Describing her appearance in words was impossible. All he could say was that she was a young girl. He shook his head and smiled ruefully. Maybe he was getting too old for this. His wife had warned him many times that it was time for him to take it easy.
The girl stopped in front of his stall and eyed the sweets on display with obvious interest.
“Are you lost?” he asked, leaning forward. “What about your parents? Where are they?”
The girl continued to stare at the candy, but she raised one arm to point at the tall man who’d appeared beside her. Odd. The old man hadn’t even noticed him until then.
“Is he your father?”
The old man smiled kindly. He had many fond memories of attending the festival with his father although he hadn’t been wandering around. No, he’d been helping his father run their family’s stall. His smile widened as the girl’s gaze continued to rove over the sweets before shifting to take in everything around them. She was filled with such simple, childish joy. It was as if she’d never been to a festival before although it was possible that she hadn’t. There were villages in the poorer parts of the kingdom that hadn’t had cause to celebrate for some time now. Well, if that were the case, he would make her first festival one to remember.
“Hold out your hand. I want you to try some of this. It’s a sample – you don’t have to pay for it. Every girl should enjoy some candy during the festival.”
The girl looked back at her father, and the tall man gave a crisp nod. How strange. The old man must really be getting old because he couldn’t seem to focus on her father’s appearance either. The little girl came forward and eagerly accepted the sample of candy before putting some in her mouth. She gave a cry of delight and quickly held out her hand for more. The old man chuckled. What an adorable child.
“We’ll take some of those,” her father said as he pointed to some more of the candy she’d eaten, along with several other bags of sweets. “And those as well.” He handed the old man some coins. “I trust this will be enough.”
“Enough?” The old man could barely believe his eyes. This was… “My lord!” He hastily inclined his head, for only a high-ranking member of the nobility could have offered such a princely sum for candy. “I fear I do not have enough money to provide you with the proper change.”
“Keep the change,” the tall man said. “And be careful on your way home. It can be dangerous at night, and it’s not your time just yet.”
The old man could only nod as the tall man and his daughter disappeared back into the crowd. And the tall man’s final comment – it was such an unusual thing to say. He blinked and the tall man and his daughter were gone. It was like they’d disappeared.
The old man was on his way home after a busy day manning the stall at the festival. He’d chosen to go ahead while his son took care of the stall during the evening. Like him, his son had been amazed by the money the tall man had given him, and they’d rushed to the bank they’d long used to h
andle their family’s finances. He couldn’t wait to get home and tell his wife about their good fortune. That money would be more than enough to purchase a small property near the hot springs to the north of the capital, and those hot springs were said by many to ease the aches and pains of the old and weary. The last few winters had been hard on his wife, and her bones often ached when it grew cold. Nothing would please him more than to see her spend any future winters in warmth and comfort.
He was in such a good mood and in such a hurry to get home that he never noticed the wagon rushing down the street until it was about to run him over. He gasped. The wagon’s driver must not have noticed him. He was going to die here, crushed under the wheels of a wagon. The tall man’s words came back to him. He’d tried to warn him, but how had he known –
A small hand wrapped around his wrist and yanked him back.
The old man stumbled and found himself looking down at the little girl from before. Her father stood behind her.
“I thought I warned you to be careful.” Something that was almost amusement filled the tall man’s voice. “You’re not far from home now. Make sure you get there safely.” He nodded at the girl. “She would be quite upset if something untoward happened to you.”
And then they were both gone.
The old man rubbed his eyes? Was he going mad? People didn’t just disappear into thin air. A caw came from above him, and he looked up. Crows and ravens lined the rooftops above him, and there was something altogether knowing in their eyes. Crows and ravens belonged to Death. He remembered what the tall man had said, and he remembered how hard it had been to pin down his features and those of the girl. A man? He swallowed thickly. No. That hadn’t been a man. That had been Death himself. He’d bet all of the money he’d been given on it. But if that had been Death, who was the little girl?
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