Endgame

Coming to with a jolt, Jacob Selwyn gasped for air and struggled to stay afloat as a raging torrent swept him through the citadel. The high inner bailey wall and the city wall formed a funnel, driving the surging waters to a depth of at least ten feet and fortifying them to scour everything in their path. He was clutching the ankh that hung round his neck. Ula will protect me.

Fighting to save himself from being overpowered by the floodwaters, Jacob saw an upturned trader’s barrow floating in the water, jammed against the roof of the smithy. He could see a man lying motionless over the top of the barrow. Jacob spotted an iridescent mark on the edge of the barrow, glinting in the sunlight; he felt drawn to it. He kicked sideways and just caught hold of the corner. Checking his grip, he saw that the glowing mark was hand-shaped, and his hand had landed perfectly over it. As he watched, the blue-green mark glowed white and faded away.   

 Jacob was close enough now to see the trader’s face. It was lifeless and blue. Drowned. He recoiled, and at the same time felt that he had seen the corpse here before. At that moment a surge pulled him underwater, and he saw that the stonework at the base of the bailey wall was glowing with the same blue-green hue. Surfacing again, he realised that the barrow had become dislodged, and was carrying him towards the narrow barbican, where the portcullis was down. Must do something. He did not fear death; Jacob knew that in the Afterlight he would revisit the choices of his life and find peace. What he experienced now was a biological instinct for survival. I don't want to die. He took a deep breath and dived towards the glow, in search of a way to survive. 

Jacob peered through the murky gloom and saw that the glow was coming from a small doorway in the wall. As he drew closer, the door swung open and the bluish light seemed to take form, a shimmering maiden with flowing robes, surrounded by a brilliant white void. The spectral figure beckoned to him. He swam into the light; the door slammed shut and the water poured away. The light faded away and he found himself enveloped in inky blackness and unable to move. The ankh burned against his chest. Not again. He struggled against the cold tendrils of darkness and felt the life draining from him.

A single word loomed forth from the darkness in six foot high letters: “RETRY?”