I started writing during work, and didn't have the heart to tear it up.
*~*~*~*~*
I am going to die.
Few in this time, in this place, truly understand those words. Death, they say, is so far off. Sickness has not touched our homes in an age. No disease has been known to us. And even as a world falls around us none would dare to raise steel against us. And yet my death rides on swift and silent wings, pressing ever onward , inescapable and undeniable.
I cannot change my fate. Death is around every corner. I see it in the temple?s home, in the quarters of the guards. I?ve seen it during lessons with some of the monks. It even lingers when I speak with Gorion. Imoen too is touched by it, yet differently. It wells within her; I would never have thought she the one to kill me. We have lived for years together, as siblings. Why she seeks my death I cannot imagine.
Death strides forward, and I look up as a knock strikes my door. It is Gorion. I hear it in his breathing. But no, Gorion?s breathing is always deep and steady. This was shallow, covered with fear. And yet still a part of him remained in it. Puzzled I move to the door.
I open the door to a sight I?ve never seen, nor do I wish to again, though to be true worse will come later this day. His hair, usually pulled back so tightly in a ponytail, was spread out behind him like a great mane. I take an involuntary step backward and my foot catches on ? I don?t know what. I fall, and Death and the hair both moved closer.
Gorion knelt by me and lifted me to my feet. He was not a strong man, but still he could lift me as if I were a child. He set me on my feet and informed my simply that we were leaving. Leaving... Death grinned. The hair left, and when I finally pulled myself together I realized that money was now here and Death was not. Was I safe?
*~*~*
I found Death twice. First in the priest?s quarters and then in the barracks. Twice I was attacked, and twice I escaped his grip. They didn?t. Death had returned to Candlekeep. The monks saw it. Their breathing was as Gorion?s had been this morning. They were afraid. So was I, but none of them feared my death. I think they feared their own.
Imoen?s breath was rushed too, but hers was not fearful; excitement quickened her. She knew something was coming, and anticipation rushed her breath. She knew Death was here. And she knew Death would follow me.
*~*~*
Death came again. As he sought me by a warrior whose breath was deep in his helmet, Gorion intervened. I ran from Death. Gorion did not. Death?s breath quickened as he invited an old mage into his fold, and the victims of his most recent battle, monsters and two lovers, though I believe the lovers to be monsters themselves. Death claimed the battlefield.
I heard two breaths behind me, both rushed, one in fear, one in readiness. Death was behind me. I turned to see, and Imoen stood by me as well. Her breath caught in her throat as I felt a lash of pain through me.
Through pain I listened to two breaths, as one lowered to my ear and another knelt by my side. A hand moved to my chest soft, gentle. ?Tell your keeper,? Imoen whispered, ?I have come to replace him.? The bony hand shrank back, and Death no longer had breath, clawing at his throat. One breath was afraid, and the other was in ecstasy. And my breath... my breath ended.
