THE UNDYING ONE

"We free men of the ascended give light, life

And all that we are in the battle against the thing that resides in dark places

We have sworn to keep ourselves in accordance to the precepts of the Transcendent

That our children and their children's children may meet the light

Wherein exists life above mortal trivialities

In a land beyond."

[When our shaman preys, author unknown.]

It was the middle of the night. She was sure of it. How, she didn't know. But it had to be. She was cold, so cold. And it was dark, darker than the darkest night. Though that wasn't what had startled her out of her sleep. She had heard a sound. It was close by. Not in her room, but close still. In the hallway perhaps. She wiped a sheen of sweat off her brow. What was that stench? Wait! This wasn't her room. The bed. It wasn't a bed; she was lying on the floor. No wonder she was cold. What was she doing here lying on the floor? This wasn't her room. It wasn't like any room she knew. How did she get here? That sound. It reminded her of something.

Someone was coming. Someone bad was coming. She remembered it then, the sound. That sound was always followed by pain. The faint jingling sound of keys, the grunt of a rusty iron door, and finally heavy booted footsteps coming closer and closer. It was him again. The Shadowman. This time she would die. She promised herself to die. No more pain, she was tired of it.

He was right outside the door of her cell now, fitting the key into the lock. A faint whimper escaped her. She was afraid. Very afraid. She wanted to die. But no, that wouldn't work. She had tried it the first time he came for her. Dying. It didn't work. She had died and then there was . . . No! She had died and undied. She thought they would leave her alone if she died but they held on to her body and they waited until she had to undie. It was horrible. Dying and undying.

She didn't know his name-the Shadowman-but every time she tried to look at him all she saw was the shadows. She couldn't see his face, he was tall and of an average build. He never said anything to her. He just always opened doors, many doors through different rooms.

Sometimes, when he led her out of this room-no, not a room but a cell- she found herself climbing stairs, going through narrow hallways and then wider hallways. Sometimes, they went past framed portraits of old distinguished looking gentlemen and staunch matronly ladies hanging on walls, into lavishly furnished rooms where she was presented before shrewd-eyed individuals, confident in their own intelligence. Other times she went through the door of her cell only to find herself in another bare room with stone floors and uncomfortable-looking wooden chairs occupied by more people. Strange people. Most of them were old, or middle-aged. They all had one thing in common; the staring.

They stared at her. They asked her to look into their eyes and stare back at them until she thought she would faint with dizziness. There was the pain as well. There always was the pain. It seemed endless. None of them actually spoke out loud to her though they all spoke about her like she wasn't even there. And when they eventually did talk to her. It was in her mind. She would hear their voices in her head asking questions.

"What is your name?" they would start.

"Where are you from?"

"Who was that woman with you?"

"How old are you?"

Until all the sounds in her mind merged together. Until they became a screeching sound, like a nail harshly dragged across an iron door. Until her teeth began to hurt. And then she would faint. But they wouldn't stop until she felt her mind being torn to pieces. Until her mind was like free-floating scraps of paper. Sometimes she would wet herself. Other times she felt invisible hands hold her still until pain from millions of barbed whips came down upon her body. And the staring would continue. She never bled. Or if she did, she never saw the blood. But the pain . . . It all came back to her even then. The Shadowman was the harbinger of pain. She knew what to expect when she heard those jingling keys. This day couldn't be any different. He was here for her again.

As usual, he signaled with his hand that she follow him. She got up of the floor, her legs mildly unsteady and then she was out in a long corridor. She followed him closely knowing that these passageways changed all the time. Sometimes, she caught the change happening in the corners of her eyes. She never could hold her gaze steady when it was happening before her. There was always a strong compulsion to look away. It was very much similar to the Shadowman. She always followed him by the sound of heavy footsteps.

He branched right into another corridor with grey and bare walls at the end of which was a narrow winding wooden stair case leading on to the floor above. They emerged right outside a polished wooden door. There was light on this floor. Moonlight to be exact, coming in from an open window at the other end of the corridor. This was a place she hadn't been before. She felt she had traversed most of the rooms in this place but clearly she was wrong. All the places she had been to were touched by a perpetual kind of darkness. Even those that had windows always gave the impression that they were in the middle of the night. This was different. This was a place that gave one an impression that they would soon see the light. She absorbed all this and more as she followed the Shadowman through the door.

It was a library; a huge rectangular room with sharp corners and wide arched windows on one side to her right. There were books everywhere, on shelves along the wall as well as in rows. Three small rectangular tables to the side closer to the walls and a long round table at the opposite end of where they had made their entrance. Three people were already seated on one of the smaller tables. Two of them seemed to be holding a whispered argument while the third, a young man with black rakish hair, looked on with an expression of utter boredom.

They stopped their conversation as soon as they noticed her walking up to them. The shadowman walked to the side and stood in a spot where the girl couldn't quite tell his position. He was fully transparent. The three individuals didn't even acknowledge his presence but looked at the girl with cool assessing gazes. The bored-looking young man smiled indulgently at her as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned further back in his chair. One of the other two, a pinched-looking giant of a woman frowned, taking in the girl's appearance while the third man in the middle simply gestured at the empty cushioned chair before the girl saying,

"Why don't you have a seat, girl?"

He cleared his throat and then pulled out a couple of manuscripts from within his dirt-brown cloak as well as a pair of reading glasses.

"I understand from these documents that you have been subjected to a number of tests since you arrived at this place. You have been here for a period of one month. And most of these tests have only yielded one common result. That you are indeed a kohze` but of an unknown proficiency and ability. I am given to understand from these documents that you haven't said a single useful thing since you were brought in, and there were also speculations that perhaps you didn't understand the languages that were being used to communicate to you," he paused waiting for any sign of acknowledgement from the girl.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself, young girl?" the woman interjected after a moment of silence.

The girl was quiet, pensive even. Then she cleared her throat once. Twice.

"I don't know", she croaked.

The third man, the one who seemed bored, widened his eyes and begun laughing; slapping his hand on the table. The giant woman gave him a stern look, adjusted her wide brimming hat and in turn gave the girl an even sterner look. The man in the middle just looked resigned.

"We have been told that you 'don't know' quite a number of things" he started. "In fact the tests that were conducted show that you have lost all previous memories. That includes all manner of important learned knowledge you must have had, is lost to you. What we don't understand though is how you were able to stay alive all these years; an untrained kohze` mind such as yours without dying. Most rogue kohze` die young. From the looks of it, you are untrained. You are a danger to yourself and to others so you can't be held here infinitely until we unravel the mystery of your existence. We are sending you to a school."

The girl looked unsure for a moment. "We . . . you say we . . ." she stammered out.

"Yes girl. We. The Higher Council of Kohze`", the man replied. "You were being housed at one of our properties for the past month. And now we think you should go to school. It would be a waste if you never learnt to harness. If you have any questions, now is the time to ask." He added folding up some of the documents and taking off his reading glasses.

She was not sure what to ask at first. Should she be worried about school, or perhaps more worried that she couldn't remember. And then it came to her.

"Him…" she said, squinting at the corner where she last saw the one she thought of as the Shadowman. "He talk…any?" she asked, helplessly gesturing trying her best to communicate.

"Who do you mean?" the other man, the one who laughed, asked with interest.

"Him" she pointed out. "Shadowman. Man of shadow… he talk?"

The man with the cloak now looked alarmed, "What Shadowman?"

"You. See him? There." she pointed again at where she was sure he was standing. "Better when I close some eye, like this", she demonstrated seeing out of one squinted eye. "He not clear though. But there. Always there", she gestured again, shrugging helplessly.

For a moment, there was a stunned sort of silence, three pairs of eyes looking at her with the utmost attention. The woman grew even sterner, her skin turning an unbecoming shade of red. It crept up from the base of her neck up to her forehead, until her face was almost a livid shade of red. The man in the cloak almost looked like an overgrown insect with his eyes bugged out in shock.

"Bloody Mal!" The young man exclaimed, looking very excited. "By the gods! How is that possible?"

The man in the cloak was clearly agitated, the gigantic woman still looked pinched but there was a bit of wariness in her look.

"What else do you see, dear one?" the young man –the third man- asked.

She took a moment to consider before she answered wondering how to explain what it felt like to always be in the darkness and then suddenly see pure ray of natural light. "I been in long dark night…many, many day", she said. "Now…see, my eye, the light."

That sent the man with cloak reeling and before long, him and the woman were back in an argument. This time more frenzied, with lots of gesticulations towards the girl. It was plainly gibberish for she couldn't quite seem to grasp the meaning of what they are saying. The other man sat by calmly. He didn't look bored anymore. He looked at the girl with an obvious renewed interest. He winked at her and then just vanished. But she could tell that he was not really gone. Just like the Shadowman but different. He was close but not quite, his image slowly faded out until she it seemed like he was in an altogether different place, standing in another hallway before a door carved out of a strange kind of ugly black wood, before he vanished entirely. The gigantic woman with the hat and the man with the cloak, argued on. The girl sat quietly before them. She didn't quite understand it all but she knew that there was no pain that day. And there might not be any more after that . . .

*******

More than half a league away, an old man of a surprisingly robust physique sat quietly on a plush-looking armchair staring avidly at a clock piece mounted upon a wall. He was waiting, patiently. He was dressed in a tweed jacket of an awful shade of green, with brown patches on his elbows. His eyes were steady, his breath slight and even. He could have been a stone. He could have even been a just another piece of furniture alongside the large mahogany table at the most prominent part of that room. He was so still, so tranquil, closer to death even. Waiting. A soft knock sounded on the black heavy wooden, and then the door knob turned. Someone entered.

"What is it Abe?" the old man asked softly after a minute or so had passed.

"I thought you should know Sir. The girl, we were in to see her. Lorma, Genghis and I. She is to be trained." The young man said.

"Is that all?"

"No, Sir. She said she could see the prince. She called him 'the Shadowman'."

The old man finally cast his gaze at the young man. His gaze was steely and sharp. Frightening even. The young man kept his eyes to the floor.

"What exactly did she say? Tell me", he said at last.

The young man finally raised his eyes and met the old man's gaze. They were both silent for longer than a minute.

"Ahhh! I see", the old man finally said. "When you next meet Genghis, I hope you will let him know that his efforts are highly appreciated. As for Lorma, tell her to stop meddling"

"Yes Sir", the young man Abe replied. "Your honor . . ." he started hesitantly.

"What else now?"

"Is there anything you would have me do with regards to the young girl?" Abe asked.

"No Abe. That will be all for now", he replied. "Let's wait and see how all this unfolds. I see invisible players finally emerging. For now, I have the High Council meeting today. It's like trying to herd several young goats", he added rising from his seat and holding still as Abe went to fetch his cloak from the hanger by the door and then draped it over him. He was almost out of the door when he stopped in the open doorway and looked back at Abe standing in the middle of the room, his gaze still to the floor.

"I hope I don't need to remind you not to get into any trouble while I am away, Son. It would be most inconvenient for both of us. You understand this?"

"Yes Father. I understand", Abe promptly responded.

And the old man was gone, whistling all the way. Abe did not immediately take a seat though his knees were trembling and his heart was racing, beating out of tune in his chest. When he sat down, his eyes were fixed on the door as though any minute, something or someone could come striding through. He moved to take his usual seat behind his mahogany desk where he began ruffling through papers, hoping to get some work done. If only his heart would settle . . .