Low clouds dumped a steady rain. Drops pocked every puddle. I was back in that hollow, nestled against the foothills of the massif harboring Frelsi and its dead sister city from which I had raised an army of Old Ones.
Rainy season had set in with a vengeance. The once dainty trickle of a waterfall that drained a hanging valley was now an engorged and dirty torrent that pounded into its bowl. My little pond was a sea, submerged by the overflow of the flooded creek. The few patches of high ground were now islands.
One such island surrounded the big old weeping willow I had created from a shrub. Its droopy and pendulous branches swayed in the wind. It amazed me that it had not already come undone. At its base, flood waters lapped at Karla’s grave mound.
The sight jolted me. It was still difficult to believe that she was gone. My pulse pounded. I had a pilgrimage to make.
I waded through knee deep water across the shelf of sediments that formed the banks of the pond in dry season. The hilt of the ancient sword I had found in the ruins where I had awakened Mr. O protruded above the surface, right where I had jabbed it into the mud beside my throne of clay. I yanked it out and swished it around in the water to clean off the mud. Not a hint of corrosion marred the gleaming metal.
Keeping my eyes on that willow, I swung around in a wide arc, working my way over to the other side of the pond, probing the mud with my toes to avoid ledges and holes obscured by the murk. The water was surprisingly warm, but then again, my body didn’t seem to sense temperature extremes as acutely in this place.
When I reached Karla’s grave mound, my heart plunged like a slug of molten lead. It dropped me to my knees. I lowered my forehead to the moss covering it.
I remembered the first morning after dad’s passing. I woke up, half alert, assuming he was still alive, just like he had been every other morning of my life. That our family was intact. That it was the beginning of another ordinary day.
Then it was like, oh shit! He’s gone! He’s really gone!
Seeing this pile of dirt that I dug out by myself, knowing who lie beneath it because I put her there, that made the reality hit home. This wasn’t a dream, either. She was really gone.
I reared my head back screamed, my wails echoing off the walls of the canyon, reverberating until the roar of the waterfall swallowed it back up. Leaning heavily on the sword, I got back up on my feet.
I couldn’t stand the thought of Karla’s body down under all this mud, protected only by that thin, cloth shroud. The image greatly disturbed me.
But what was I going to do? Dig her up and move her body to higher ground? I told myself that body down there wasn’t really her. It was just a receptacle for her soul, one of many probably associated with every manifestation of existence. This particular shell of hers might be ruined, but there was another one somewhere, right now roaming the Deeps.
That sort of made sense, but I wasn’t sure I believed it. It sure felt like she was gone forever.
I turned and faced the exit to the canyon, gazing out over the pitted plains. I needed to pay a visit to my old buddy Bern.
