Week 11 Story: A Song for the Departed
The last of the armed men falls to Arthur’s blade and he takes a moment to catch his breath. His partner, Borealis, and himself had been ambushed, but not by a guild organized group. Still, it was a messy fight just from the sheer numbers they had on Borealis and Arthur. They had surrounded the duo and Arthur had to use a healing spell at one point during the altercation. He turns around and sees Borealis is on the ground. He must have been knocked down during the fight. He walks over to him. Borealis isn’t moving. Arthur isn’t worried. He isn’t.
“Borealis, if this is your idea of a joke, you should quit while you’re ahead.” No answer.
“I’m serious. You’re going to make me upset and then you’ll really feel bad about it.” Nothing.
Arthur crouches down and places his index finger and middle finger on one side of Borealis’ neck, just below his chin. There’s no pulse and Arthur’s breath momentarily catches in his throat. It’s fine; he can fix this. There’s a temple to Bahamut 2 miles from his location. He can’t quite carry Borealis, but he can sort of drag him along. It’s not as if Borealis will notice. He tries not to think about that too much. Instead, he talks to fill the silence around him and to quiet the torrent in his head.
“I hope you’re pleased with yourself, Borealis. This little stunt of yours is going to completely ruin my day.”
He continues his complaints along this line. By the time he reaches the temple, his hands are shaking. He decides it’s from exhaustion and resolves to add that to his growing list of grievances to tell Borealis later. He knocks on the door. The cleric that answers the door doesn’t seem too surprised to see a battered person carrying a corpse at midday, but they probably see a lot of adventurers.
“Do you have someone here who can resurrect the dead?” Arthur asks, winded.
The cleric shakes her head. “The closest temple with such advanced magics is nearly two days east of here. It is a temple to the sun god Pelor, but they only offer their assistance to followers of his light.”
Arthur has never been one for deities, and he finds that indifference is reciprocated. The only light he would follow is his Borealis. He thanks the cleric for her time, before making his way back where he came. Arthur remembers something he read once in a library of a coastal city. In an old tome, there was a ritual, a way to create a path into the realm of the dead. All he has to do is follow the ritual, find Borealis, and bring him back into the realm of the living.
The ritual is simple enough. First, he must wait until dusk, and create a circle of candles with runes carved into the very bottoms of the wax. He has until the runes melt away to find Borealis. Next, he must make three libations: water for life, wine for death, and the hardest one for him to obtain — his own blood, for safe passage between life and death. He feels lightheaded afterwards, less from the blood loss and more from the sight of his own blood.
As the final libation is offered, the circle becomes a gateway to the realm of the dead. It’s not much different from the realm of the living, just a bit gloomier. Although, that could just be Arthur’s imagination from the site of the dead inhabiting the realm as shadowy apparitions. After what feels like centuries, Arthur hears a familiar elven voice say, “Hey boss, did you miss me?”
Arthur turns around, seeing the shadowy form of his partner. He reaches out to him, only for his hand to pass through Borealis’s shoulder.
“Follow me, darling,” Arthur says, disappointed.
“Always,” Borealis replies.
However, they discover at the circle that Borealis cannot pass through. Only a fourth of the candle wax has burned, so Arthur comes up with a new plan. He asks Borealis to show him where the Raven is. Along the way he sees a tree growing pomegranates and reaches out to pick one.
“I wouldn’t,” Borealis says, “unless your plan is to stay here forever.”
Nodding in acknowledgment, Arthur continues. It seems the realm of the dead has similar rules to the realm of the fae. They eventually arrive at the Raven’s throne. The goddess looks to be made of shadows like the dead, but somehow more tangible. A feathered cloak obscures her figure, and she wears a raven mask over her face. Arthur bows to her and requests the return of his partner. To convince her of his sincerity, he plays a song on his violin, as an offering to the Raven. He channels all of the grief he had dared not feel before this point into his performance.
At its conclusion, the Raven is moved. She allows him to return with Borealis, on the condition that he must not look back to see if he is following. Arthur thanks her for her generosity, and leaves. He talks to Borealis, but never once receives an answer. He begins to worry he’s been tricked, or that Borealis has fallen behind. He doesn’t look back, however. He’s a smart man, and he knows Raven is a trickster. He even continues to not look behind him when he is out of the realm of the dead. He waits, until he feels the warmth of Borealis’s hand on his arm.
Something in Arthur snaps, and he latches onto Borealis, turning and burying his face in the elf’s shoulder. He holds onto Borealis like if he lets go the other man will disappear.
“Don’t ever leave me alone again Borealis,” he says between sobs, “that’s an order.”
Borealis seems shocked by this as he puts his hands on Arthur’s back. “It’s okay, I won’t; I promise,” he says.
“Borealis, if this is your idea of a joke, you should quit while you’re ahead.” No answer.
“I’m serious. You’re going to make me upset and then you’ll really feel bad about it.” Nothing.
Arthur crouches down and places his index finger and middle finger on one side of Borealis’ neck, just below his chin. There’s no pulse and Arthur’s breath momentarily catches in his throat. It’s fine; he can fix this. There’s a temple to Bahamut 2 miles from his location. He can’t quite carry Borealis, but he can sort of drag him along. It’s not as if Borealis will notice. He tries not to think about that too much. Instead, he talks to fill the silence around him and to quiet the torrent in his head.
“I hope you’re pleased with yourself, Borealis. This little stunt of yours is going to completely ruin my day.”
He continues his complaints along this line. By the time he reaches the temple, his hands are shaking. He decides it’s from exhaustion and resolves to add that to his growing list of grievances to tell Borealis later. He knocks on the door. The cleric that answers the door doesn’t seem too surprised to see a battered person carrying a corpse at midday, but they probably see a lot of adventurers.
“Do you have someone here who can resurrect the dead?” Arthur asks, winded.
The cleric shakes her head. “The closest temple with such advanced magics is nearly two days east of here. It is a temple to the sun god Pelor, but they only offer their assistance to followers of his light.”
Arthur has never been one for deities, and he finds that indifference is reciprocated. The only light he would follow is his Borealis. He thanks the cleric for her time, before making his way back where he came. Arthur remembers something he read once in a library of a coastal city. In an old tome, there was a ritual, a way to create a path into the realm of the dead. All he has to do is follow the ritual, find Borealis, and bring him back into the realm of the living.
The ritual is simple enough. First, he must wait until dusk, and create a circle of candles with runes carved into the very bottoms of the wax. He has until the runes melt away to find Borealis. Next, he must make three libations: water for life, wine for death, and the hardest one for him to obtain — his own blood, for safe passage between life and death. He feels lightheaded afterwards, less from the blood loss and more from the sight of his own blood.
As the final libation is offered, the circle becomes a gateway to the realm of the dead. It’s not much different from the realm of the living, just a bit gloomier. Although, that could just be Arthur’s imagination from the site of the dead inhabiting the realm as shadowy apparitions. After what feels like centuries, Arthur hears a familiar elven voice say, “Hey boss, did you miss me?”
Arthur turns around, seeing the shadowy form of his partner. He reaches out to him, only for his hand to pass through Borealis’s shoulder.
“Follow me, darling,” Arthur says, disappointed.
“Always,” Borealis replies.
However, they discover at the circle that Borealis cannot pass through. Only a fourth of the candle wax has burned, so Arthur comes up with a new plan. He asks Borealis to show him where the Raven is. Along the way he sees a tree growing pomegranates and reaches out to pick one.
“I wouldn’t,” Borealis says, “unless your plan is to stay here forever.”
Nodding in acknowledgment, Arthur continues. It seems the realm of the dead has similar rules to the realm of the fae. They eventually arrive at the Raven’s throne. The goddess looks to be made of shadows like the dead, but somehow more tangible. A feathered cloak obscures her figure, and she wears a raven mask over her face. Arthur bows to her and requests the return of his partner. To convince her of his sincerity, he plays a song on his violin, as an offering to the Raven. He channels all of the grief he had dared not feel before this point into his performance.
At its conclusion, the Raven is moved. She allows him to return with Borealis, on the condition that he must not look back to see if he is following. Arthur thanks her for her generosity, and leaves. He talks to Borealis, but never once receives an answer. He begins to worry he’s been tricked, or that Borealis has fallen behind. He doesn’t look back, however. He’s a smart man, and he knows Raven is a trickster. He even continues to not look behind him when he is out of the realm of the dead. He waits, until he feels the warmth of Borealis’s hand on his arm.
Something in Arthur snaps, and he latches onto Borealis, turning and burying his face in the elf’s shoulder. He holds onto Borealis like if he lets go the other man will disappear.
“Don’t ever leave me alone again Borealis,” he says between sobs, “that’s an order.”
Borealis seems shocked by this as he puts his hands on Arthur’s back. “It’s okay, I won’t; I promise,” he says.
Author's Note
This is actually a mashup of three different stories, all centering on the theme of one character journeying into the Underworld for the sake of another. In the Alaskan myth, the husband successfully brings his wife back from "the ghost land," but she remains a shadow for the rest of their lives. I got the description of the realm of the dead from this myth, as well as the idea that one must not eat food from that realm. I also made the goddess of death a raven because of the importance of ravens in Alaskan folklore. In the Greek myth, a musician journeys after his wife and is given the same task Arthur is in this story. The difference is that he does not succeed. He looks back, and his wife must return to the Underworld. This story is also a retelling of one I had written for Arthur, a character I created as a minor antagonist for my D&D group, and a character I write backstory for as a hobby. He is also one of the first characters I ever created for a story, which is why I use his name for my pseudonym. Borealis is a dark elf and is Arthur's right hand man. In my writing, I like to name all of my dark elf characters puns themed around light (Borealis's mother is named Aurora). It was difficult condensing my original story (around 1500 words) down for this one. In my original version, most of this is the same, except the goddess of death is not so easily persuaded. Arthur has to give up his violin and his bow tie, the latter of which is so important to him that he states that he would have rather she asked for his legs. My partner, whom I introduced in my Introduction Part 2 as Victor, came up with the title. I think it is rather clever, with the double meaning of a song as tribute and as payment for the departed.
Bibliography
"The Ghost Land" from Myths and Legends of Alaska edited by Katharine Berry Judson. Source.
"Orpheus and Eurydice" from Ovid's Metamorphoses translated by Tony Kline. Source.
Image Information
First image: Arthur, Second image: Borealis; images made in Hero Forge.
I also read the Alaskan Legends, so seeing one of the stories here was a lot of fun. I like how you mixed the different myths together. It led to a very well written piece. Having him drag his partners body only to find out it was pointless was heartbreaking. Delving into the underworld is no small feat, and seeing Arthur successfully lead Borealis out is a nice change of pace from how these tales usually go.
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