Page 4 of Touch of Death
“Come, mortal,” he says, his eyes narrowing slightly on me before darting around the mountaintop, “let us quickly be gone from this place.”
I nod, my mind blanking again as I allow him to lead me away from the ledge.
Taking one last look over my shoulder, I can’t help but think that there’s something I’m missing,somethingI’ve forgotten … But the harder I try, the more my mind reels, and I suddenly find myself slipping on the loose rocks beneath my feet.
“Careful, you must focus on the way ahead,” the stranger says, catching me before I hit the ground and quickly righting me again. “These paths are treacherous, even for the most skilled of my own kind. You’re the first mortal I’ve ever found this far up the mountain ...”
He trails off, as if he’s almost said too much, and we walk on in silence for several minutes before his eyes shift back to me.
“Tell me, mortal, what is your name?”
“My name,” I repeat, my mind spinning at his question. “I-I don’t know. What is yours?”
The man stops, grabbing my arm to turn me toward him, and I can’t help but notice that he’s careful not to touch my skin this time.
“Hermes,” he answers, leaning toward me, “what do you mean you do not know your name?”
“I don’t remember,” I say, blinking up at him.
“Whatdoyou remember?” Hermes asks, his brow furrowing as his eyes search my face.
Again, I try to search my mind but simply end up shaking my head at him.
“Nothing,” I answer. “I know that I had a life before, but that is all. Why?”
Hermes watches me for a few seconds longer before releasing me.
“Come, we must not waste any more time here,” he says without answering my question, an edge to his voice. Turning on his heel, he continues on down the steep path, motioning for me to follow.
I trail after him, trying my best to remain focused on the placement of my feet instead of the questions filling my mind.
Something definitely isn’t right, and I can’t help but feel like thatsomethinghas to do with me and my life before. Even as I think this, my mind reels, and I am forced to push the thought aside as I re-focus on the task ahead.
Hermes leads us along the narrow, winding path, pausing from time to time to ask me another question or help me navigate a particularly treacherous part of the mountain. However, all of his questions are met with the same answer …
I don’t remember.
Each time the words slip past my lips, I feel more and more confused by them.
Who am I?
It’s as if my mind and body are disconnected, refusing to cooperate with each other no matter how badly I want them to.
I’m still struggling with Hermes’ questions and my own confusion by the time we finally reach the foot of the mountain. The river glows in the distance, and I find myself suddenly fixated on it, my weary feet carrying me forward as if drawn to it.
Our narrow path merges with a much wider one as we draw closer to the river, and I suddenly notice an imposing figure standing by the water’s edge. The hooded being is disturbingly tall and draped in layers of heavy, worn rags that drown out whatever form might lie beneath them.
Though the figure’s back is to us, I sense that I should be wary of who or whatever it is. Hermes stiffens at my side, only confirming my suspicion, as I glance up and watch his jaw harden in uneasy silence the nearer we draw to the cloaked form.
“Hermes,” comes a rasping voice, the sound scratching its way down my spine as the creature slowly turns toward us … and I find nothing but a gaping hole where a face should be staring back at us.
3
Hazel
“Charon,” Hermes says in a nervous greeting.
“What is the meaning of this? I have already carried today’s souls across the river, as you well know.”
