Two Masters (epic progression fantasy)

Chapter 3: The Funeral

The body was wrapped in white linen, adorned with a black ribbon. The dark ties of death that encircle life. Candles formed an oval around it, illuminating the cloth, and the front row of monks around it. The cloudy sky left all but those immediately around the body in shadow.

Revin stood further back, letting other monks stand in view of the shroud. Sadness echoed around him, but he only felt... hollow. Empty. Glancing around, he noticed tears, and looks of worry. The death had been so sudden, so unexpected, so violent.

Revin rested his hand on Blackfire's head, who looked up at him, puzzled.

Revin frowned and looked back towards the candles. All were silent. They were a few sniffles and a sob or two as Werig's family stood near, trying to be strong.

Then, he heard the familiar steps of his father onto a small, wooden platform. It wasn't higher than the funeral table Werig lay on, but the extra foot put his father's head above the crowd.

His father bore a tight frown, his own emotions hardly in check. He took a slightly shuddering breath through his nose, then began to speak.

"Rarely does one so strong and so fit among us perish so soon. Werig was a faithful Hiriv Monk. He worked the fields hard. He obeyed his ceremonies dutifully, and his kindness was great. But along with his strengths, he bore weaknesses too. Impatience. Critical of that which he didn't understand. Flaws many of us share."

Revin had met Werig before his death on more than one occasion. Though not openly hostile, he always eyed Revin's wolf with suspicion. And, since he was a few years Revin's senior, they didn't have the same friends.

Revin almost laughed at himself. Friends? Revin had one friend. Blackfire.

"We are here to remember his life, mourn his passing, and look forward to when we will meet him again. Death is not the end of life. Pain is not the end of peace. Sorrow is not the end of joy."

Others nodded in agreement. Revin thought about it. What would the life after be like? The Sephitaron only said that the next life would be good. The Father God and Sephitaro would guide us as our existence continued.

He glanced up to the sky. To the gods. He felt guilty, standing here calmly as others wept.

His father stepped down and the monks began to pay their respects. Each walked past the shroud, nodded in respect, closing their eyes and muttering silent prayers. Prayers that his soul would find its way, that his family would have peace.

✦✦✦

A short while later, the monks were gathered in smaller groups in the burial field, speaking quietly among themselves. Telyu, Andreh, Beda, and Kirkly stood nearby. After standing awkwardly alone, he approached the group.

Telyu smiled at him, but the others did not. Kirkley didn't even look at Revin.

"So," Telyu said, "you sent it away, right? You didn't kill it?"

Revin cocked his head, "Of course I didn't kill it."

Telyu nodded. Andreh jumped in to speak. "Why not?"

Revin was taken aback by the violent suggestion. "Why would I do that?"

"It killed Werig," she said.

"What if it comes back," Beda said, grabbing on to her sheep's wooly coat. "What if it's gotten a taste for monk, and wants more?"

Revin frowned. "It's gone, Beda," Revin said, "I sent it back to the mainland, where it belongs."

"It belongs in a grave, after what it did," Kirkly said, holding his mouse close.