Love and Death


The next day, before sundown, a crowd had gathered around a wooden platform that had been quickly constructed the night before.  A tall wooden stake had been erected at the top of the platform, and surrounded with bundles of straw.  Ashandra was in the crowd, and did not cheer with them as Cristof was led out into the street, surrounded by guards and with his hands bound behind his back.  She was appalled that some of the same people in the crowd that had cheered for Cristof as he preformed for them where now cheering at the fact that he was going to die.  All that mattered to them was that a warlock was going to be burned.  Cristof walked calmly up the ladder to the platform, and did not resist as more ropes were lopped around him, binding him to the stake.  A drummer boy began to play a solemn march, while an officer read the charges to the crowd.  A man bearing a torch and a jar of oil stepped forward.
Ashandra broke from the crowd and ran up the platform.  She threw her arms around Cristof.  “You can’t kill him!” she exclaimed to the officers.  “You’ll have to burn me as well.”
“Madam, please step down from the platform,” one of the officers asked kindly.  “Don’t make us drag you down.”
“It’s okay, Ashandra,” Cristof muttered to Ashandra in a low voice.  “You have to let me go.”
Ashandra looked at Cristof with tears in her eyes.  She shook her head violently.
“You must let me go,” Cristof pleaded with her, tears in his own eyes.  “You know I love you.”
Ashandra nodded.  “I love you too.”  She reached up and wiped the tears from his eyes for him, and then she kissed him.  Cristof kissed her back, and then Ashandra was pulled away from him and led back into the crowd.  The torchbearer came forth, poring the flammable oil over Cristof’s head to help him burn up faster.  The drum went into a final roll, and the torch was brought down, lighting the first bundle of straw.
The flames spread quickly, and when they reached Cristof’s legs and he began to scream in pain, Ashandra almost fainted, but she was supported by Kaona, who was watching Cristof burn with a grim look on her face.  The fire quickly traveled up Cristof’s oil-soaked clothes, and Ashandra managed to look up at his face.  Their eyes met, and Cristof seemed to smile with a kind of sad triumph, before the flames consumed him.    
The crowds left gradually as the day passed.  Soon no one was left except for the executioner and the drummer boy.  The boy knelt next to the charred body of Cristof and tripped the silver rings from it with speedy fingers, placing them quickly in his drum.  He was about to steal the quartz necklace from Cristof’s neck, when the executioner seized his arm, making the boy yelp with surprise and pain.
“Don’t touch that one,” he hissed, glancing at the gleaming necklace.  “It’s probably a cursed amulet of his or something.  You might be turned into a toad if you put it on.”  He released the boy and watched him scamper down the road with his drum.  The executioner picked up the corpse and placed it in a wagon.  He wheeled it down town to the necromancer and dumped it out unceremoniously on the back stop.  After rubbing his hands together quickly to get rid of the ashes, he walked down the street after the drummer boy, whistling cheerfully.  
Darkness fell quickly as the sun disappeared behind the trees.  Three skeletons emerged from the shadows, one of them wearing a black cloak and bearing a scythe.
“Quickly now,” the skeleton-king ordered.  “Get him underground.”  The other two skeletons took Cristof onto their shoulders, and the skeleton-king banged his scythe on the ground twice.  The four of them were no longer standing in the alley, now they were in a stone room underground.  A carved bed stood in the center of the room, facing an ornate mirror on the wall.  The two skeletons deposited the body of Cristof on the bed, and then left the room.  The skeleton-king approached his son, and touched the quartz around his neck.  Cristof opened his eyes.
“She gave this to you?” the skeleton-king questioned.  Cristof nodded.  He could not speak yet; his vocal cords hadn’t started to heal.
“You were clever, to let her believe that you died, that way you can leave here after you’ve recovered and travel to lands far from this city,” the skeleton-king continued.  “I know it’s painful, but it really is the best for her.  If you had stayed with her, you’re influence with death would most certainly have sent her to a premature grave.”
“I’m not going to the surface again,” Cristof whispered.  The skeleton-king leaned in close to hear him.  
“After I recover, I want to stay in the Underdark and work,” Cristof continued.  “I have no other purpose without Ashandra.”
The skeleton-king nodded in understanding, and then grinning, the white teeth of his skull gleaming.  “You shall be the next Reaper then.  I never thought I’d be able to retire before.”

Quinton paced the halls worriedly.  Ashandra was the cause of his anxiety.  It had been almost three months since Cristof’s execution, and ever since then, Ashandra had grown depressed and withdrawn, refusing to leave her apartments.  Quinton felt somewhat responsible for her condition, having been the person responsible for Cristof’s arrest in the first place.  It was for that reason that he had decided to tell her the information that he alone knew.  Resolved, he quit pacing and entered Ashandra’s room.
She was seated in a chair by the window, looking out into the gardens.  Kaona was in the room as well, sitting in a chair next to her sister and reading to her in a clear voice.  Both girls looked up at Quinton as he entered the room.
“Ashandra, if it for the sake of your happiness only, I know where Cristof went to when he disappeared that one night,” Quinton said, all in a rush.  “If it’s too depressing for you to go there, I understand, but I thought I might let you know.  He might have left you something there, or…”
“Tell me where,” Ashandra said solemnly, standing up and walking over to Quinton.
“It’s across the fields.  He went through the roots under the old sycamore tree.  If you’ll wait a minute, I can find you an escort to guide you there…” Quinton trailed off as Ashandra grabbed her cloak and ran out the door, letting it swing shut with a lazy creak behind her.

Cristof sat on the edge of his bed, facing the mirror.  It was a large, oval-shaped mirror, and it showed the image of the person who was about to die.  Unrecognizable faces flashed before the mirror, and vanished.  There was an inscription all around the sides of the mirror, which read:

“Nor crown nor coin can halt time’s flight
Or stay the armies of the night.
King and villain, lad and lass,
All answer to the hourglass.”

Suddenly, Cristof jumped off the bed and rushed to the mirror.  Reflected there, was the pale, frightened face of Ashandra.  He ran down the halls and into the throne room of the skeleton-king.
“You promised!” Cristof shouted.  “You promised she’d be safe if I left!”
“What do you mean?” the skeleton-king asked, puzzled.
“I just saw her in the mirror,” Cristof explained.
“Impossible,” the skeleton-king scoffed.  “She’s not dead, there’s no way she could have appeared in that mirror….unless, of course, she entered the Underdark physically.”
Understanding flooded over Cristof, and he tore out of the throne room as fast as he could go.

Ashandra stood up and brushed leaves and dirt out of her hair.  After the unpleasant business of crawling on her stomach, she now found herself standing in the middle of a dimly-lit corridor.  Somewhat frightened, but nevertheless undaunted, she proceeded slowly down the hall.  Her first fright was when she saw a human skeleton stretched across the hallway.  Her second fright was when the skeleton raised its head to grin at her.  She screamed as the skeleton raised itself to its feet and began to slowly walk towards her, menacingly raising a sword above its head.
The sword came down, and there was a metallic clash as it was met in midair by another blade.  A second skeleton, dressed in black garments and a cloak, and bearing a sword, stepped out of a side passageway and began to duel with the first skeleton.  As Ashandra watched the two of them fight, she saw that what remained of the second skeleton’s flesh was badly burnt.  When the skeleton turned towards the light, Ashandra saw her quartz necklace hanging from a cord around his neck, and she screamed again.  The first skeleton looked at her, and while it was distracted, the second skeleton sliced of its head, and the skull went rolling across the floor.
“You!” Ashandra shrieked.  “What the--?  How did you--?  Is this supposed to be one of your illusions or something?”  She made her voice low and mimicked Cristof’s voice.  “Yeah, you know.  If your mind, and your spirit, and you body come together, I can burn my ass and make my girlfriend believe that I died.”
“I only did it to save you,” Cristof protested.
“Save me?  I became so depressed after you died.  I wanted to die,” Ashandra shouted.
“If you stick around here, you just might get that wish,” Cristof pointed down the hall the way Ashandra had came.  She turned around to see an army of skeletons marching down the hall towards them.
“Quickly, this way,” Cristof pulled Ashandra into the side passage, and the two of them walked out onto the stone bridge that ran across the lake.  While Ashandra was gazing around the vast room in bewilderment, Cristof was looking across the other end of the bridge, where the skeleton-king had just emerged from behind the hourglass.
“It’s no use running, Cristof.  There’s nowhere left to run,” the skeleton-king spoke, his voice echoing across the chamber.  “You know the law.  No mortal may enter this domain, and live.”
“But I sacrificed my own life with her so that she could live,” Cristof protested.  “I passed through fire for her.  I love her, and I will not let you destroy her.”
“You love her,” the skeleton-king repeated.  “Are you willing to die for her?”
“If I could die for her, I would.”
“Very well.  Your blood will suffice to let her pass through here alive.  Prepare yourself,” the skeleton-king ordered, his eyes glowing red.
Cristof turned to Ashandra, and gathered her in his arms as he wrapped his cloak around her.
“I never met to hurt you,” he whispered, drawing the cloak around her head. “It was the only way I could save you.”
“I know.  I love you,” Ashandra whispered back.
“I love you, too.  Here is my goodbye kiss.”  Cristof pulled back the cloak slightly and kissed the top of Ashandra’s forehead.  Then he violently yanked the cloak off her.  The place where Ashandra had stood was empty.  She had vanished.
“You didn’t use death magic to make her disappear, or else I would be able to detect the spell.” the skeleton-king mused, puzzled.
“No,” Cristof smiled.  “It was just a good, old-fashioned illusion.”  He was still smiling as the skeleton-king drew the hood of his own cloak over his head.  He raised his silver scythe, and it flashed just as brightly as his smoldering eyes did.  The red light hit Cristof in the heart, and he collapsed to the ground.  A trickle of blood ran from his mouth and fell with a silent splash into the dark waters of the lake below.

Ashandra found herself leaning against the sycamore tree.  She couldn’t recollect how she had gotten there.  Vague memories of skeletons, and caves, and Cristof all flooded back to her.  Just as she began to question whether it was all a dream, the earth at her feet began to stir, and Cristof’s arm broke through, clawing at the dirt as he raised his head and shoulders and the rest of his body out of the ground.  He had been completely restored; he wasn’t a skeleton anymore, and his flesh was no longer burned.  Then he rolled over on his back, drawing in breath with short, painful gasps.  Eventually his breathing subsided and he rose unsteadily to his feet.  Ashandra quickly went over to help him, and he leaned against her.
“I can breathe,” he muttered.  “Blood flows through my veins; I can hear my heart beating.  I’m alive!”
“Well, that’s wonderful,” Ashandra said, half-sarcastic.  “You know, if this dying thing is going to become a habit with you…”
“It better not, because it will be for good, this time,” Cristof replied.  He looked at Ashandra, and then fell.  At first, Ashandra thought that he had passed out, but then she realized that he was kneeling.  “I only have one life to live now, and there’s only one person that I would like to spend it with.  Will you marry me?”
“I will,” Ashandra answered, filling tears of happiness beginning to start in her eyes.  Cristof took a ring from with finger and placed it on Ashandra’s.  It was of a delicate silver rose.  He stood up, and pulled out a small box from his pocket.  Ashandra was confused about the box, because she had already received her ring.  Then she heard the rattle of dice as Cristof shook the box, and she understood.
“How about a quick game of Mia, for the road?” Cristof asked, handing the box to Ashandra and putting his arm around her with a kiss.  She took the box with a laugh, and shook the dice as the two of them headed back across the fields.