Chapter 2. The Wages of Death

From the murky waters of sleep, Nisreen surfaced. Morning sunlight slanted through the broken window. A cool breeze swirled into the kitchen. The dying leaves of the trees rattled in the yard. The house was silent. Was anyone home? Had her family gone to ride the Thermals in search of Death? Raising herself onto her elbows, she cocked her head, grunted and hissed, “Grun-hee.”

Sister came into the room. She signaled, “Gone.”

Nisreen crooked her finger into a question mark.

A series of grunts and hisses proceeded from Sister’s mouth. “They received a message of sickness. They have gone to discover who.”

“Why didn’t you go?”

“I thought it best I stay here.”

“Why?”

Sister blinked once and cleared her throat. “Your young hunter was shot and killed last night.” Though Sister hadn’t said his name, the events of the previous night rushed into Nisreen’s mind and crashed in her heart. Tears filled her eyes. The long arms of Sister, wrapped around her. Nisreen buried her head into the soft silk petals of Sister’s robe.

Gently Sister hissed. “I am sorry.” Nisreen clutched her twin tighter. Never, had she said a word about her feelings for Vince. Not even once. Patting Nisreen’s back, Sister continued, “He was a skilled hunter and provided much sustenance for our family and others. He was a good steward and faithful to his creed of returning all to the earth.”

These words brought zero comfort. Nisreen hissed, “He should have blessed the earth until he was an old male.”

Sister nodded. Softly she said, “Yes he should have.”

A tremble went through Nisreen’s body and then an earthquake of emotion rocked her. Hard sobs she couldn’t control burst from her and she began to wail. She grunted, “Why, why?” Sister said nothing. The only blessing in this moment was that she and Sister were alone and she had the space to give way to her grief. Only Sister, Sister whom she had known since conception, understood her.

Tightly, Sister’s arms held her. She placed her bald head against Nisreen’s and hissed, “I am here. I’ve got you.”

In the sanctuary of Sister’s arms Nisreen cried until she had cried herself out. She sagged in Sister’s arms. Gently, Sister told her, “You need to sit,” and helped her to the kitchen chair.

Nisreen looked up at her twin and whispered, “I love you.”

“As I love you. Now, you need to eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat.” Sister turned from her and went to the pantry. From the bone jar, Sister took three large bones. From another jar, she took black roots. She set two copper pots to boil. One contained the bones and the other the roots. Their aroma made Nisreen feel nauseous, she laid her head on the table and closed her eyes. The instant she did she saw Vince’s body fall dead. Another image seeped into her head. Vince dancing and she was in his arms. She had never danced with Vince ever, and yet, she felt like she had. Was this just another turn of grief?

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

When Sister plopped the wooden bowls onto the table, she said, “Eat.” it was not a suggestion but a command. Sister was the elder of the two, she had come five hours before Nisreen made her appearance in the world. This, fact ruled Sister’s life. She was bossy and always determined to get her way.

Reluctantly, Nisreen picked up the small bowl of Black Root tea and sipped it. The liquid scalded her tongue and throat, she yelped in pain.

Sister scolded, “Blow on the tea first! How many times will you scorch your tongue in haste?”

Nisreen didn’t answer. Sip by sip she drank the tea, then drained the bowl of soup. The warmth did make her feel a little better.

Their yellow message bird, Cadence, flew through the broken window and landed on the table. In her beak was a rolled up maple leaf. Nisreen took the message and unrolled it. In Mama’s hand writing, words inked in walnut juice scrawled across the leaf. Mama had written, “We have been called to sit with Old Shelia. An infectious disease has taken hold of her lungs. It is contagious.” Nisreen looked up at Sister and said, “We have a job. Its Old Shelia.” Sister nodded.

The two young females went out the broken window and leapt into the sky. Up, up they pushed their arms against the air and caught a thermal. With arms outstretched they rode the wind. Down below Nisreen saw the place of last night’s killing. Only bones remained of the weak link. Granny would gather those bones for soup and medicine. A thought flashed as Nisreen passed over the site, if the killers hadn’t taken Vince, his bones would have been scattered below too, and Granny would have gathered them. A shiver of disgust went through her. Granny believed that the bones of the dead were offered up as gifts of strength. The gift of Vince’s strength was not something Nisreen would have been able to partake of.

Several minutes later the thermal began to fade. The Twins were forced to fight gravity as they swooped closer to the earth. There was a death hut, set up in the empty meadow. Papa was outside, at the campfire stirring a broth. The twins landed. Papa gave Nisreen a concerned look, but he didn’t ask how she was. He nodded at the hut.

Nisreen braced herself to enter. Sister didn’t join her. The smell inside the hut was putrid. Old Shelia lay on a blanket on the ground. She was covered in pustules that wept. No one from her family was with her. No one. This was a killing sickness that could wipe out an entire village. If not for Nisreen and her family, Old Shelia would be dying alone. Granny sat on the floor beside Old Shelia, holding her hand. When Old Shelia saw Nisreen, she hunched into a hacking cough and struggled to breathe. When the cough passed, she smiled and whispered, “Thank you for keeping me company until the angel comes for me.”

Nisreen nodded and sat down on the ground between Mama and Auntie. Hours would creep now. Death was often slow to arrive in cases like this, they might keep watch for days. The three females took turns tending to Old Shelia, while Sister and Papa tended the fire and prepared broth and numbing medications. The sun began to set. Night was coming and still death lagged. It was Nisreen’s turn to sit with Old Shelia.

The night passed slowly. Though the hut opening, Nisreen watched the stars turn in the sky. Old Shelia’s coughing fits grew more frequent and she was struggling to breathe. It wouldn’t be long now, at least this is what Nisreen hoped. The hardest part of her calling was watching the dying suffer.The hunters did not experience this aspect of death. Death was their companion, it ran with them and killed quickly. Dying never came without pain, but pain had many graduations and Old Shelia was in the darker hues.

Light crept across the rim of the earth. Soon the stars would fade. Beside Nisreen, Old Shelia convulsed, her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. She gasped and went completely still. Nisreen sniffed the air. The smell of death hovered. It was over. She woke her family. They must work quickly before Rigor mortis set in. It would take time to devour the remains of pestilence. Papa and Sister pulled Old Shelia’s body into the light of the rising sun.

Auntie came out of the hut and leapt into the sky. Her body zoomed through the pale morning light. Up, up she flew and caught a thermal. Then she began to glide in huge repetitious circles to alert their extended family to come and join them.