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Journey to the Archive

20

Into The Darkness

Tomb of the King

Respite

A cold morning, just as light had broken, Isidore headed out to the cemetery with Scim to take him for a walk. The dog seemed to grow larger each week and was now almost as tall as his child owner. The pair of them enjoyed their walks. Scimitar enjoyed the graveyard, much more than he enjoyed the forest or the coastal paths that stretched away from the Pantheon.
The cemetery was looking much better than it had the first few times Isidore had been there, with more refugees in the area they had started to respect it as a resting place of the dead and begun to tend the graves and organise the areas for new ones. There was an area for those who wished to cremate with piles of logs for pyres. Isidore and Scimitar wandered past the headstones. The old stone ones, the more modern ones constructed of anything people could get their hands on. Some had flowers, some offerings such as a favourite candy or fruit, toys for the graves of children. Isidore like it, he liked that the mortals felt close to their relatives, had the chance to remember them. This in turn gave them respect for the process of death and rebirth, souls and the underworld. Their belief kept them all alive, no matter what the conventions and he would do his best to encourage them in any way he could. Like his father he was interested in different cultures and their different ideals. He had learned about cremation, mummification and mortal’s beliefs about the afterlife so far, but he was sure that he had so much more to learn.
He was quite used to stumbling across mortals in the cemetery, though it was morning and quiet. As he and Scim walked among the newer graves he heard something, singing he realised, slow and mournful, a lament it was coming from the St Kore cathedral. Isidore whistled for Scim to follow him and headed off towards the ruins of the cathedral. He supposed he should find out about getting it rebuilt, perhaps speak with Kios or his father to find out if they would be able to. Especially if people were using it. They drew closer to the large gothic style building, Isidore had no idea what it had been before, just that it had been some sort of temple, something connected to the Underworld.
They reached the door and stopped, Isidore did not want to disturb whatever was going on inside, though he was very curious. There was an atmosphere in the air, Isidore listened to the singing and leaned forward to peer into the cathedral. There was a large group of people inside, all singing together, it was a beautiful sound. Drawn to it, Isidore slipped quietly into the back, being careful not to trip on the uneven flagstones and memorials that made up the floor. He looked up, above the crowd were three whisps, spirits, floating and watching over proceedings, once they had spotted him they swooped down towards him and Scim, flying around them, they seemed uneasy, or that was the feeling Isidore got from them. He watched as one took an almost human form and pointed down the aisle of the church. Isidore walked closer and peered down it, at the bottom, by the altar were three makeshift wooden coffins lined up on the floor. He looked from them and the people gathered to the spirits.
“Is that you?” He whispered. The spirits danced, agitated again and Isidore wondered if he should go and get his dad, though wasn’t he away doing important things? The songs grew and the spirits seemed calmed a little, he had thought that funerals were just about the mortals coming to terms with their loss, yet here were spirits who appeared to be drawn to the service.
“I can’t help you.” he said softly, he was not his father, he could not lead them down to the underworld or help their rebirth. They would have to wait. His words only served to make them more agitated, they danced and flitted around him and then Scim. “Please, I’m sorry.” He kept his voice to a whisper and held his hands out to them. As he did so a strange feeling came over him, he was not quite sure what it was but he felt the spirits calm and relax and it seemed that the calming influence was he himself. They ceased their irratic movements and drifted away from him and out of the church through the large hole in the roof. Isidore looked down at Scim.
“That was strange.” He said softly, he did not think for a moment that they had been taken to the Underworld, that was his father’s job and not one he could do. But they had seemed content. Perhaps he had powers too, he knew his father and mother had them but he had thought that he and his sisters were too young. He looked down at his hands and smiled a little at himself. That was exciting.
Scim nudged his leg. Right, no excitement, this was a solemn occasion, he crouched at the back so he could watch the service. Once people had sung they then gave speeches, talking about what they remembered of the dead ones, happy memories. That was the main point of a funeral, Isidore decided, a celebration of life, even the solemn ones people would laugh about things the dead had done in their lives, remember the good times. He was getting an idea of what mortals wanted from him, from his realm. Though the dead ... what did they expect from him? He and his father had spoken of being a bridge between the world of the living and the world of the dead. If he could help the living accept the passing of their loved ones then perhaps he could help the dead too? He had not noticed them before, lurking around. He would have to speak to his father about it when he returned. The service came to an end, Isidore shrunk back behind a pillar and watched with Scim as the congregation stood. When he was older, like Kios he would be able to make a better place for people to remember their dead, one that served the many traditions he had discovered in his adventures.
“Come on Scim, let’s follow them.” He said softly blending into the crowd as he followed them out the cemetery to witness the burial.

A song for the hopeful

Hush Little Birdie

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