A Different Kind of Despair (17 page)

Respect, something I tried
obtaining through my lineage in loud declarations as a child,
finally fell on my skin like rain. I blushed as I recalled, not so
long ago, how I expected everyone to fall in line just because I
was the only child of our Tribe Shaman.

Only now, through trial and suffering did I
see that a wounded pride would not kill me. That sometimes one had
to reject what they took for fact in order to see a different side
to the same story.

That barbarians, necromancers, and even demons
were not always the monsters we first think them to be.

"Marvin once told me," I said, my
eyes drifting to the past, to days of sweet, childish ignorance in
his yurt. "that an arrow leaves a wound different from an axe or
club. And that love is a lot like that. Only it's just a different
kind of deadly."

I couldn't bear to look at him now, for fear
I'd forget everything I wanted to say, so I pressed on.

"I didn't understand it back then,
but I do now. As people who spend their time studying life you know
about death better than anyone. You understand futility. Finality.
Every minute is more precious. Every memory a priceless treasure.
Necromancers are people capable of a greater, deeper love that few
in this world could ever comprehend… which is why there was a need
for House Thanos. In fact, I would guess that's the reason you
started reanimating the dead in the first place." My gaze softened.
"It literally kills you to have to say goodbye."

Already I could spot individual faces, people
clutching their chests and their breaking hearts, red and runny
noses and eyes filled with unshed tears.

"The world paints you as monsters and you hide
behind the convenience of the excuse. Formosa did." Her name
rekindled their focus. "But in the end, she let it drop. Her final
word was one I hadn't heard since I left my home behind. Urah, she
said. Formosa's last word was Urah."

Someone in the front row sniffed, "What does
it mean?"

I smiled, glad that he asked.

"Among us barbarians, there is no such thing
as goodbye. Urah is the closest you will ever come to a farewell.
It means simply, until we meet again. In this world, or reality,
the dead never truly leave us, not for as long as we honor their
memory in our hearts. Formosa said Urah, because she was more
caring than she ever let on."

Several people chuckled. Hesitant smiles
bloomed in the field of faces.

I raised my own candle, lighting
it with a flick of devil's fire between my fingers. I walked to Leo
and lit his own.

"For Formosa."

He walked to Will and did the same.

"For Formosa."

Will walked to Larry and repeated the
saying.

"For Formosa."

One by one the candles were lit, a
soft and steady stream of 'For Formosa' on everyone's lips. They
looked upon each other, and I could tell that these necromancers
started to see their neighbors as people, not simply colleagues
with shared interests.

Conversations started. Tentative
laughter could be heard. I searched for Marvin in the sea of faces,
but instead found him huddled behind the stone mound leading to
Purilo's caverns.

He cradled his head in his arms, his legs
drawn up beneath his chin.

I set the candle in the sand between us and
sat beside him, leaning against the rock.

Had it only been a week?

It felt as though years had gone
by. Maybe it was the stress, or the fact that I wasn't human
anymore. Or maybe that's just how growing up worked. One day you
opened your eyes and the world was just… distant. Small in a way
that was almost saddening.

An hour passed. The tiny candle burned into
the sand. I listened as the people beyond moved closer to the
oasis, with many enjoying a swim beneath the stars. Marvin was so
quiet that I started to get worried. Maybe I should just let him be
until he felt ready to rejoin the rest of us. I moved to leave, but
was stopped. He held onto the edge of my sleeve.

"Don't go."

I sat back down, closer this time.
I swished my tail so that he fell on his side, his head across my
lap. I ran my hands through his steel gray hair, shining like
moonbeams under the night sky.

Marvin's eyes were red. His was an extremely
conflicted expression. On the one hand, he and his mother had a
terse relationship. On the other, now he knew that there was a
reason for it.

He should've known. He should've visited. He
should've been able to put it all together, but he
didn't.

I could read his thoughts so clearly because
I'd also been grappling with the exact same ones mere days before.
I stroked his cheek and he grabbed my hand, keeping it against his
overheated face.

I bent low and kissed him on the
head.

"
Thank you, Miraj
." His voice was
filled with tears. Marvin looked me in the eyes. "I love
you."

I expected my heart to flutter the
very first time I heard those words come out of his mouth, but it
didn't. Instead I felt calm, warm, stable; as though I could
finally appreciate them now that they had come at the precise
moment they were meant to.

I kissed him. This was not a romantic moment,
or one filled with lust, or even grief. Just love, pure and
bittersweet in its simplicity.

He shifted, his lips not leaving
mine as he got to his knees. Our fingers laced together and pressed
into the desert sand. The kiss grew more urgent, desperate, and
through its evolution I caught a glimpse of the wounds Marvin
carried in his heart.

His tongue parted my lips and I
allowed him to move past them. I saw him clearer than I'd ever seen
a person in my life. This was a man so fearful of getting close to
the people around him for fear of their loss. More than death, this
was a man terrified of living.

This was his way of taking that risk, placing
his faith in me that I would take it with him.

Yes.

"Yes," I breathed, wrapping my arms around
him.

A thousand times, yes.