A soft, almost dead, echo trails away as she knocks at the ancient door.
Nothing.
She repeats the intricate knocking-code and stands, with arms
crossed, waiting.
The door creaks; bowing outward as something heavy comes to rest
against it. The stones of the tower send down a fine primordial dust.
‘Go away.’ The voice sounds old and age worn like the door. She knows it
is him.
‘Still alive then, old Jackal.’
The door vibrates. ‘Anpoot, is it you?’ A snuffling, sound comes
from within and more dust floats down. ‘No…too young ….. Yet… the scent is
familiar.’ The voice is deep and filled with the sound of hope.
'No. Not Anpoot. She is as you are - miserable and dying alone
because of pride and foolish sense of duty.'
‘She sent you?’
‘Of course not, she’s as stubborn and packed with pride as you.
I came because I love her; and … because you should be together. Now
open the door.’
‘You know what may happen if the door opens’.
‘She told me, yes.’
‘And still you would open it?’
‘Yes, she needs you, just as you need her.
I have watched her since I can remember. Seen her suffer and
struggle with her mortality: Heard the catch in her voice when she speaks of
you. She is a papery shadow of who she once was. She has suffered. You have
suffered. Open the door and let me bring her to you.’
‘Open the door and unleash the beast, again, how tempting.’
Maybe the creature was strong once, but that time is gone. You of
all the Numen should know that. The power of your immortality has diminished,
so has hers. Now open the door. She is close by in a litter. It’s time.’
There is a long silence. ‘I cannot open the door. I do not have
the key.’
'If you don’t have it, then…’
‘She must.’ The door creaks and shudders as a great weight thrusts
against it. ‘It will be that thing that has joined us together over the aeons.
Find it, find the key, and bring her to me.’ His plea ends in a desperate
whine.
She stands, quietly, for a long moment, and then goes down to the litter
she has dragged behind her for days.
Pulling out a small, almost, swaddled, body she struggles to the
door. Taking a dagger from her sleeve, she raises both arms toward the
moon-dark sky.
The thumping on the door is frantic and with each beat he moans,
‘Anpoot.'
Once, twice, she slices each palm and smears her blood upon the door.
‘With the blood that joins you, I unseal this rift’
The door dissolves into a dark void, rolling forward and enveloping the
step, then it vanishes, so does the body.
The door is unchanged but now there is hope.
A glorious howl rises star-ward followed by overwhelming quiet.
She smiles and walks away into the night. The shadow of a jackal lopes
after her.
