The Cave of Souls

Ansel knew the moment he looked down upon his thirteenth child’s face, that he would need help. The boy’s eyes were brown as the freshly tilled soil, deep as an endless pit, and silent as a grave. The boy had come screaming into the world in a pool of his mother’s blood, his tiny face turning red as he sucked the pain of life into his lungs with his first breath. As he held the boy in his arms, he decided that he would find a godfather for the boy.

And so he went out in search of a godfather for the boy. In his travels, he encountered kings with riches beyond imagination, monsters who had done unspeakable things and creatures the world had no name for. All offered to be the boy’s godfather, but all were turned away. Finally, Ansel found himself before a man who claimed he was a god. Again, he heard the offer.

“I will be the boy’s godfather. For who could be a better one than I?” Ansel thought for a few moments, then replied. “I thank you for the offer, but I must decline. If you are a god, as you claim, you allow your subjects to suffer in famine and poverty, while you hold all the power to change this. You will not be his godfather.” The god seemed unhappy with this, but allowed Ansel on his way to continue his search for a godfather for his son.

He crossed seas and deserts and came across another being, this one claiming to be the devil. Again, he was presented the choice.

“I will be the boy’s godfather, as ironic as it sounds. I will teach him the ways of the world, and he will want for nothing.” Again, Ansel considered the offer, before shaking his head. “No. Your offer is a grand one, but I cannot entrust my son to someone who deceives humanity at every turn.” The devil looked angry, but allowed him to pass without harm to be on his way.

Sighing, tired from his travels and search, he decided to turn back home. Perhaps he would find a godfather for his boy back in the village in which they lived. Weary, he let his heavy feet carry him the long way home. Three steps from the entrance to his home, Ansel encountered a woman. She stood still, watching as he stumbled home, his son nestled in his arms. She reached a bony finger out, touching the baby’s face. Again, an offer was made.

“I am Death. I will be the boy’s godmother.” She said it in a hushed voice, one Ansel had to lean forward to hear. He studied her, thinking it through. She offered no riches or wealth, boasted no overwhelming abilities, other than absolute reign over life and death. “I thank you for your offer, and I accept. Death is without discrimination. You do not separate the poor from the rich, the weak from the strong. You will show him morals, and teach him to be human.” Death smiled then, a gentle smile filled with warm welcome. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I will take good care of him, your other children too.” Ansel gave her a grateful smile, sinking to his knees. As the silence of his son’s eyes settled in his bones, Death pulled his son into her arms.

“Your name will be Neimand.”

As Neimand grew, he began to venture out into the world, exploring new places, all with Death watching by as he wandered through his world. Slowly, his siblings grew and moved away to distant places where they became scholars and teachers, politicians and advisors, artists and their muses. All of them successful in their chosen role, Neimand wondered what talent he would possess.

When he showed an interest in the plants around him, death taught him to identify those that could be used in medicine, she taught him the ways of healing. When he showed an interest in the blade, she showed him how to fight. Everything he tried, death would teach him until he was proficient in the skill. He tried many things, and learned things others could only imagine.

On the day that Neimand turned twenty, Death came to him, and told him to choose. It was time to choose what he would do in the world. Neimand thought for a second, then asked for ten days to decide. Death granted his request, leaving him to decide the course of his life. A big decision, and something she understood he would need time and space to figure out.

Neimand spent the next nine days using his skills, trying to determine which he would carry on. What he would hone to perfection. He practiced his bladework, created works of art, hunted, cooked, embroidered, built and remembered all manner of things that Death had taught him. None of them felt right. On the last day before Death returned to ask of him his choice, he remembered the first thing she had taught him. What had begun his fascination with learning and wonder.

When Death returned eleven days later, Neimand had his answer. He would become a healer. He would weave plants together into poultices, crush flowers into healing elixirs. This was what he would do. Upon hearing this, Death smiled, and took his hand.

“A noble choice. I will give you a gift. When you visit your patients, I will too, and stand at the head or foot of the bed. If I stand at the head of the bed, then you will be able to heal them, and they will go on to live until I come for them. If I stand at the foot of the bed, however, they will not live through, and you can do nothing to save them. This is the gift I shall bestow upon you.” Neimand drank in the words, and readily accepted this gift from Death. She would help him become a great healer.

Neimand set out the next day, travelling between small villages, and cities, sailing to countries and far off lands he never knew existed. He treated women giving birth, and children ailing from strange illnesses, men who had been injured in their field of work, young girls who had defended their family from rabid animals. And everywhere he went, Death followed him. Every one of her predictions proved accurate, as people lived or died in Neimand’s care. But it was a hard life, lonely and draining to travel constantly, to never set up roots anywhere, and to not have a family of his own, a home.

Years passed this way, Death helping him to heal people or keep them comfortable as the life slipped from their grasp, until one day, Neimand was brought before a king. The king had a disease that was slowly killing him, and proclaimed that if Neimand could heal him, that he would be invited into the palace. He would receive gold, land and a title for his troubles. Neimand stood before the king on feet weary from travelling, considering this offer. He could spend the rest of his life comfortably, would want for nothing and could finally settle in one place. Slowly, he nodded. He would treat the king.

The next day, Neimand visited the king in his chambers. He bid the king to lay down in the bed so that he might examine him, and watched as Death appeared as a spectre in the room. Watched, as she floated towards the king’s feet. Desperate to find a way to heal the king that had promised him a life of comfort and ease, Neimand bid Death to come back the next day, just to be certain.

The next day, Death returned, drifting to the foot of the bed yet again. This time, Neimand hid a smile behind a cough, for without Death’s knowledge, he had turned the king around, his head now resting at the foot of the bed. And so Neimand healed the king, and in return, received land, riches and a title. Death came to him then, angry at him for his deception.

“How could you deceive me for your own selfish gain. You will be punished for this.” Neimand begged Death to reconsider, assuring her of his guilt at his lie. Death seemed to hesitate then, considering. Then she sighed.

“Very well. I will forgive you this betrayal just once. But should you ever try this again, you will replace the person you save as punishment.” Neimand, overcome with relief thanked Death, promising that he would never do something so foolish ever again, and Death left, taking her anger with her.

For another three years, Neimand lived a quiet life on his land, cultivating a garden full of the plants and flowers he had used for healing. People often came to him to learn or to ask of his services, and he did not turn them away. Occasionally, Death would sweep through, whispering knowledge into his ears the way she had when he was a child, or bring him books with the secrets of the world written in their pages. It seemed as though she had forgiven him the misdeed and moved on from it, and soon they reconciled, and he continued his practice from the comforts of his land, seeing to patients that came to him, rather than travelling around to find them.

The life he led was peaceful and just, until he was summed before the king once more. This time, the king’s daughter, the princess, was sick. She had fallen ill with a strange disease and no one had been able to find a cure. If Neimand could cure the princess of this illness, then with her consent, her hand would be promised to him in marriage. The prospect of marrying the princess was an enticing one to Neimand, alone in his travels and now in his house, for all those years. Gratefully, he accepted this offer.

He was brought before the princess the next day, as she lay in her bed, sick from the unknown illness. Again, Death appeared as a spectre, drifting to stand at the foot of the bed. Neimand became upset, but asked her to come again the next day. He gave the princess a few elixirs to take to help with any pain, then he went back home to his land. Death went to visit him there.

“Remember what I told you. If you try to deceive me again, your death will be the punishment.” Neimand begged. He begged Death to save the life of the princess, to find a way to save her. Finally, growing weary of his begging, Death bid Neimand to come with her. Taking her hand, he followed her into a cave.

In this cave were candles as far as the eye can see, their flickering light stretching on into the seemingly endless cave. The cave of souls, Death called it. Every one of the candle’s flames represented the soul of a living human.

“Life is about balance. If you prevent one of these flames from going out, then another must be extinguished in its place.” Neimand looked around the cave, watching the flames flicker and cast strange shadows on the smooth rock walls. “If you want to save the princess, then you must extinguish another flame.” Death’s hand hovered over a flame that was so small it was barely there.

Neimand looked back over the other flames, walking to one nearby. It was barely a flicker of light, the smallest pinpoint. An old person perhaps, he thought. He licked his fingers, and pressed them over the candle’s wick. Instantly, he was transported to a tiny room. It had wooden walls and a small bed in the corner. In it was a woman, holding a tiny baby in her arms. Neimand moved closer to look, wondering what was happening. He watched the moment it happened. Watched as the light went out in the baby’s eyes. It had not been an old person, leaving life, but the soul of a baby whose life had barely begun. That was why it was so small and weak. The soul hadn’t had the time to grow.

He watched the mother’s grief over losing her baby, watched as the rest of the family rushed in to console the mourning woman. He had done this. Taken a baby’s life right at its beginning. He was swept back into the cave of souls. Death watched him, still hovering over the princess’ candle, which now glowed a bright orange, like all of the other healthy soul candles around them.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you just stand by and watch me do that?” Tears fell freely down Neimand’s cheeks. The candles around Death seemed to flicker then.

“You would not have listened had I told you. The only thing you would have done would be to find another soul to serve your purpose. The next candle you snuff, I will ensure is yours.” Death vanished then, so too, did the cave of souls around them, and Neimand was back in his home. He visited the king the next day, sharing the news that the princess would live. As agreed, upon hearing this news, the king asked his daughter if she would marry Neimand, and for saving her life, she agreed.

They wed two months later, and after a year had passed, they welcomed their first child into the world, a baby boy named Ansel. As he grew, he became more adventurous, setting out into the world. But one day, he did not return. Neimand and the princess looked everywhere for him, almost giving up, when they finally found him, broken at the bottom of a cliff.

It had been a long time since Neimand had seen his godmother, but there she stood, at his son’s feet. He fell to his knees, begging.

“Please, take me in his stead. He is only a boy, his life has only just begun.” Death looked at him then, watching him on his knees. She knelt down in front of him, cupping his chin. He met her eyes.

“It is not your time.” She turned then, looking down at Ansel. “Come child.” Neimand clung to her dress as she held her hand out to Ansel. “Please.” It came out as a whisper, a last, desperate attempt to make her reconsider the choice. She pulled her hand back before Ansel could take it, looking down at the boy she had raised. “You will learn to live with the decision that you made when you saved his mother.” With that, she turned and offered her hand to Ansel again, this time letting him grasp it as the light left his face.

Neimand mourned the loss of his son with his wife. She had been upset for a time, resenting the choice he had made in saving her, but eventually, she came to realise that the choice he had made was responsible for Ansel’s existence. A year later, she could no longer bear the grief, and died of a broken heart. Unable to save her this time, Neimand stayed by her side as she slowly slipped from his grasp. Again, Neimand was alone. This time, without Death’s guiding hand. And so he resolved himself to wander the world for the rest of his days, healing those he could save, and comforting those he could not.

One day, Neimand found himself on the road his father had travelled home from his search, all those years ago. When he reached three steps away from the house, he saw her again. Death looked much the same as the day she had taken his son. She watched as he stepped closer. Held out her hand.

“Are you ready child?” He watched her as she waited, thinking over all that had happened, the life she had given him. He nodded and reached towards her. The moment his hand touched hers, he felt the shift, but it did not hurt. Grasping more firmly onto her hand, he pulled her towards him in a final embrace. Death smiled, her child returned to her at last.