Mystery Calling
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The priest’s eyes were wet with tears as he stared at me. He had been watching the light from his candle cast strange shadows on my face, and it was strange to see him looking so surprised; I had seen that look before. “You are not a man,” he said softly. His voice was hoarse and thick.
It took me a moment to realize what he meant by that. I blinked several times and nodded slowly. The man shook his head sadly. “No, you’re not. You have no arms or legs. And yet here you stand.”
“I’m standing,” I agreed in a low tone. “How did you know?”
He didn’t answer for a long time. My question hung heavy between us like a cloud of dust. Finally, the man wiped away the last of his tears and looked directly into my eyes. “It’s obvious when you think about it,” he finally said simply. “If you have no legs and you can stand, then you must be sitting somewhere else. What does your head look like?”
I hesitated for only a second. “The same way yours looks now,” I answered honestly.
The priest frowned and seemed to consider this for a while. Then he turned back to the door and called out loudly: “Is anyone there? Please come in!”
There was a pause and then footsteps hurried up the stairs. A tall woman wearing a wide-brimmed hat stepped quickly through the doorway and stood staring at us. She looked around her nervously but made no move to leave. Her expression was so odd that I couldn’t help asking: “Are you all right?”
She glanced sharply toward me, obviously confused. “Who are you talking to?” she demanded.
I shrugged. “To nobody in particular,” I replied frankly. “Perhaps to myself or maybe even to God Himself. But if God is listening, he might want to stop by sometime soon and explain how such a thing could possibly happen.”
The woman stared at me for a moment longer and then spoke again. “You are not a man who speaks the truth,” she declared quietly. “And yet I believe every word you say.”
“That’s nice, dear,” said the priest calmly. “But please tell me where you found this man. We’ve been searching for him everywhere.”
“I found him on the road,” she said firmly. “He came running down the path from the forest. When we saw he wasn’t a man, we brought him inside and tried to find out what happened to him.”
The priest cleared his throat. “We need to take him to the infirmary. Someone will examine him and try to get some answers.”
The woman nodded. She looked around her curiously, perhaps wondering why the place felt so familiar. “Where do you live?” she asked finally.
“In the village,” the priest answered patiently. “This is our church.”
She shook her head and pointed at the ceiling. “That’s wrong. This isn’t a church. It’s a temple.”
“A temple?” repeated the priest. “What temple?”
“The Temple of Pharasma,” she said evenly, as though this should make perfect sense to everyone present. “Don’t you remember?”
The priest stared at her blankly. “Of course, we remember,” he said slowly. “It was a hundred years ago. Back when we lived in the town of Greenheart.”
“Greenheart?” she asked slowly. “Wasn’t that the name of this village? Or wasn’t it Greenhearth itself?”
“Both,” replied the priest. “They were both Greenhearts.”
“But you moved out of Greenheart,” the woman insisted. “You sold the land and built your temple here.”
“Yes, we did,” he said. “And we still live here. Who told you differently?”
The woman frowned at him. “Everyone knew that,” she said. “Everyone knows everything about Greenhearts. How could they not?”
“Oh,” said the priest softly. “That’s interesting.”
“What’s interesting?” I asked.
“I just realized something,” he said. “The temple of Pharasma has always been here, but we didn’t call it Greenhearts. No one ever called it Greenhearts. Why would we? That’s nonsense. It’s blasphemy. We never thought about it until recently, but now that we’re thinking about it, it makes perfect sense. After all, if Greenhearts really existed, wouldn’t it be green?”
The woman blinked in confusion and looked over at me. She seemed surprised to see me standing there. “You have no legs,” she said quietly. “Why are you standing?”
I shrugged. “Because I can,” I said bluntly. “And because God wants me to.”
The woman stared at me for a moment longer and then turned back towards the priest. “What happened to him?” she asked. “Did he fall down the stairs?”
“No,” replied the priest. “He fell off the stairs.”
“So how did he fall?” she pressed.
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” he said. He glared at the woman and added, “If you have any suggestions—”
“I don’t know anything,” she interrupted. “Not really. Just that I feel like I’ve seen this before.”
“We’ll figure it out,” the priest promised. “Just stay here for now.”
I glanced at the woman. “Should I go with her?” I asked. “Or are you going to let me rest awhile?”
The priest hesitated for a moment and then sighed. “I think you should come along with us,” he said. “Now that you’re awake, there shouldn’t be much reason for you to stay here anymore.”
“Good idea,” I said. “I’d hate for someone to steal my legs again.”
The priest made an annoyed sound and stepped away from me. “Come on,” he snapped. “Let’s go.”
“Wait,” said the woman. “Please don’t leave me alone.”
The priest stopped and turned back to her. “You won’t be by yourself,” he assured her. “Someone will stay with you all night.”
“I don’t want someone to watch me,” she protested. “I’m perfectly capable of watching myself. The gods gave me eyes and ears and fingers and toes. I don’t need anyone else.”
The priest frowned at her. “We’ll put you in a room with another woman,” he said gently. “One who’ll keep you company.”
The woman stared at him for a long time and then shook her head. “No,” she said. “I don’t want that. You’ll find someone who does.”
“I will not!” shouted the priest, stepping forward angrily. “I have already talked to the other priests! We cannot spare extra men to serve as servants or guards for you.”
“Then you aren’t listening very well,” the woman retorted. “I am not asking to be served. I simply want someone to sit beside me while I sleep. So that I do not wake up alone.”
The priest blinked and glanced at her. He raised his eyebrows and then shrugged. “Fine,” he said. “You can have a guard.”
The woman smiled and nodded. “Thank you,” she said. “Very kind of you.”
“I don’t understand why you’re so insistent about this,” the priest grumbled. “Nobody else is bothering you, and nobody is likely to bother you.”
“My husband died three years ago,” she explained. “My children left me and moved far away. My friends have abandoned me. Everyone leaves me eventually. But I can’t die. I just don’t know how.”
“Well, you’re safe here,” the priest assured her. “You don’t have to worry about being hurt or scared or even lonely. This is a good place to be. And you won’t have to worry about any of those things anymore.”
The woman nodded and smiled at him. “Of course,” she agreed. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” the priest warned. “This guard isn’t your servant. It’s your jailer. Don’t try to escape.”
“That’s fine by me,” she replied. “I’m tired of running anyway.”
The priest returned to the door and opened it. The man who stood outside was a big fellow with thick arms and a muscular neck and shoulders. His hair was dark and short, and his beard had grown in bushy, but he wasn’t nearly as impressive as the other two priests.
“See?” asked the woman. “Isn’t he handsome? He’s only been here a few months, though. If you ask me, he could use some more practice.”
“Shut up,” growled the priest. “Get inside.”
***
The big man stepped aside and waved the priest inside. Then he followed the priest into the hallway and closed the door behind him.
“How did you get here?” asked the woman. “Your legs were torn off, weren’t they?”
“Yes,” admitted the priest. “But the healers fixed them up so that they look like nothing ever happened.”
“Have you seen the others?” she asked. “Are they alive?”
“What others?” the priest demanded. “There are no others. Now shut up unless you have something useful to say.”
The woman frowned at him and then looked down at her lap. She didn’t speak for several minutes. Finally, she muttered, “I told you. I saw this before.”
“This what?” asked the priest.
“Before,” she repeated. “I saw this before. I dreamed it.”
“I don’t see how that matters,” said the priest. “Dreams are dreams. They mean nothing.”
“It means everything,” insisted the woman. “Because if I knew this dream before, then maybe I can stop it from happening. Maybe I can change it somehow.”
“So tell me,” the priest demanded impatiently. “Tell me what this dream is.”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “Maybe I can remember when I wake up.”
“What?” snarled the priest. “You think we should let you sleep until you’re ready to give us an answer?”
The woman shook her head. “No,” she replied. “Not really. What would be the point? You wouldn’t believe me, and you’d never let me rest again. Besides, I don’t think this is a dream. There’s too much reality in it. Too many things happened to me. Like seeing the dead body on my bed.”
The priest stared at her in disbelief. “You’re telling me you’ve seen a corpse before?”
The woman laughed bitterly. “Only once,” she said. “On the day that the other people left. Not everyone can stay forever, you know. They have to go somewhere.”
“Oh, yes,” said the priest. “I heard about that.”
“I’m not going to lie about this,” said the woman. “I saw a dead body.”
“And now you’re dreaming about it,” the priest continued.
“No,” she retorted. “I haven’t dreamed anything yet. I thought I might, but I didn’t. I just remembered that I did. That’s all.”
“It makes sense,” the priest assured her. “If you dreamed about being forced to sleep with a dead body, then that could happen. As long as there aren’t any more corpses lying around, this dream should be harmless.”
The woman shook her head. “It’s more than that,” she insisted. “It’s not just a dream. Something else is trying to come out of it. A terrible thing. I feel it coming.”
The priest pressed his lips together and lowered his eyes. Then he glanced back at her and asked, “What do you mean?”
“I’m afraid,” she answered. “I am so very, very frightened.”
“Oh, dear,” sighed the priest. “Then I suppose this is where we all find ourselves for eternity—in each other’s company, talking about our fears. Isn’t that nice?”
She glared at him. “You think you’re funny.”
“Am I?” asked the priest. “Well, I guess I must have been. But I’m sorry. I promise I won’t laugh anymore. In fact, maybe I shouldn’t even talk. And if you want, I’ll close my eyes and pretend I can’t hear you. Is that what you need?”
The woman didn’t answer. Instead, she kept staring straight ahead, staring past the priest.
“Why are you looking at me?” he finally asked.
“I’m trying to make sure you’re still here,” she whispered.
The priest lifted his eyes and found himself gazing down at her. “I am here,” he assured her. “But you’re the one who was looking at me.”
“I know,” she answered. “That’s because you’re blocking me.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re standing between me and whatever else is trying to get out,” she explained. “Without your presence here, whatever it is will reach me.”
“Oh, dear,” murmured the priest. “Whatever it sounds pretty horrible. Why don’t you try not to think about it? If it doesn’t exist, then it can’t hurt you.”
“That’s not true,” she pointed out. “We can’t help thinking about it. We can’t help imagining it. It’s like a cold wind blowing in your face. You can’t stop thinking about it, but you have no choice but to keep moving forward.”
“You’re making sense,” admitted the priest. “But I’m not sure it helps. If you’re right about what you’ve seen, then it’s already happened. The only way to stop it is by finding a way to forget it.”
The woman shook her head. “There’s no way to do that,” she said. “When something bad happens, we always know it happened. We always remember what went wrong. And we can’t ever forget it.”
“Are you sure about that?” the priest wondered. “Maybe you were just imagining it. Maybe this isn’t real, and you’re only dreaming it up.”
“This is not a dream!” she cried. “It’s no illusion! It’s not some trick of the mind or a figment of the imagination. This is happening.”
“How can you tell?”
“Because it has to be,” she replied. “It has to be. I can feel it, and I’m not alone. I’m sure that others are seeing the same thing.”
“Others?”
“Yes,” she said. “Other people. Lots of other people. All of them are having the same experience. None of us are safe from it.”
“Who else would see such a thing?” asked the priest. “Do you think they’re all part of your church?”
“They’re not supposed to be,” she answered. “None of them belong to any faith. Some of them are just ordinary people. Others have never joined any religion at all.”
“So how does this happen?”
“The Dead God is coming,” she told him. “He’s awakening, and once he wakes, he’ll be on the move again. He’s searching for his lost children, and none of us are safe.”
“Then why hasn’t anyone noticed?” asked the priest. “Wherever the god comes from, isn’t it obvious what’s causing these nightmares?”
“Not everyone sees it,” she answered. “In fact, most of those who see the dreams don’t understand what they’re really seeing. They look for monsters or demons, and when they find nothing, they assume they imagined it.”
“But you do?”
“I believe I am seeing what I’m seeing,” she answered. “And it’s not an illusion. Whatever I’m seeing is coming out of the dreams. That’s why it’s so important that I can reach someone before it reaches me.”
“So what are you saying?” asked the priest. “That we should all go home and lock our doors until the danger passes?”
“No,” she answered. “I’m telling you to stay here with me. Help me fight against this thing. We might not be able to beat it, but we can certainly slow it down. And if we can delay its arrival long enough, maybe we can figure out a way to stop it.”
“A way to stop the Dead God?”
“Of course,” she snapped. “If we can’t kill it, maybe we can trap it. Or maybe we can somehow convince it not to come after us at all.”
“And how exactly are you going to do that?”
“I don’t know yet,” she admitted. “All I can say is that I need your help. Please don’t leave me alone.”
“Don’t worry,” said the priest. “I won’t run away.”
“Good,” she said. “Now let’s get back to work.”
The End