Eternus

The following is a short story I wrote in collaboration with another member of Art Stew 52. If you're an Instagramer, head over there and give @sweet_little_wood_art a follow!

Death Cap by @sweet_little_wood_art

Eternus

They were the survivors. Two ragged wanderers, made old before their time; Magda and her brother, The Raven. No-one would have suspected them. No-one, that is, except the old king’s Seer. And The Raven had taken care of him. It was the last thing he’d done, but he’d managed it.

Magda smiled bitterly over this as she stirred a pot of broth - thin broth for an ailing man - smiled over the irony that she was the one left to finish the job. 

“It’s boiled long enough, girl! Take it off the fire before it burns!” Cook was looking over Magda’s shoulder.

Magda ducked her head to hide her tell-tale expression and reached with trembling hands to lift the pot.

“Mind you don’t spill again!” Cook barked.

Magda shuffled painfully, her whole body shaking with the effort of not spilling the broth.

A crippled avenger, she thought, well, that’s probably something new. 

Cook turned her back to scold someone else, and Magda took her chance. She fumbled for the pouch hidden inside of her blouse, and there it was, the carefully-hoarded packet of powdered Eternus. Gathered by the light of springtime’s final moon, when the sap of life ran rich and ready through the bowels of the earth, and mushrooms feasted on the warm, wet air and the nourishment of last year’s dead wood. The Raven had dried and powdered it himself, to make sure that it lost none of its potency. He’d not let Magda come near. But now it was the little sister’s trembling hands that upended the packet over the broth pot and stirred in the powder with jerky strokes of her spoon. 

It was time. Time for the recompense.

Justice came on halting feet that stumbled over the rush-strewn floors of the upper halls. Every step wracked Magda’s twisted body with another stab of pain, so she made her counting to keep up her courage.

One, two. Mum and Da.

One. The thousand children slain through a king’s lustful seeking for the secrets of eternal life.

Two. The two hundred villages torched in revenge for their refusal to sacrifice their daughters and sons.

One. The body (her own) broken in the terror of flight on a dark day when the soldiers came.

Two. The decades of waiting for the closely-guarded Eternus to spoor again.

One. Her Raven. Another death weighing in that heavy balance tipped against the king.

Some folks dared to whisper in speculation and rumor of the countless lives that King Mauvais’ lust had destroyed. But not Magda. Never Magda or The Raven. They had kept a careful reckoning.

One death was not enough to pay the debt resting on the king’s account. 

Something else. They had decided. Something so terrible it would serve as a caution for all the years to come.

And now it was time. Rumor had it that the old king was going insane, and Magda had heard with her own ears his tortured cries as vengeful ghosts pursued him through the long nights. The Councilors had declared him unfit to rule, and had succeeded in putting his nephew on the throne in the very same spring that The Raven had found Eternus coming up again in the woods. They had known, then, that it was the right time for vengeance to come.

Magda carefully shifted the pot to one hand and tapped at a heavy wooden door. A smartly-dressed serving-man opened and frowned at her. She made a little courtesy and presented the broth. 

“For my lord Mauvais.” She said.

The serving-man took the pot and slammed the door in her face.

Magda stood, staring at the wood patterns and imagined the broth pot being born up the broad stairs to the old king’s chamber. One mouthful would be enough. The Eternus was potent. Her brother had done his work well.

Mauvais was to have his heart’s desire, after all. Life unending, trapped by the guilt of his sins and the torment of his breaking mind.

One. An eternity. Revenge paid in full. Magda smiled a dark smile and limped toward the shadowy stairs.