obsidian brightness now fluttered open in opaque greyness.
The heart of the Guest broke and he sat down beside the Master. “I have come.”
A faint tremulous smile lifted thin grey lips that once reached their happy pinnacle with ease. “Thank you.” The Master’s sussurant voice barely lifted to the Guest’s preternatural hearing.
“I don’t want to do this,” sighed the Guest.
Sympathetic silence saddened the Master’s clouded eyes.
“I want you to live.” The Guest’s crimson eyes searched the Master’s for hope.
“But I will,” replied the Master.
“You will be dead,” stated the Guest. He flinched at his bluntness.
Somehow the Master shrugged a shoulder, but caught himself in a wince. The Guest’s eyes went round with concern.
“I will be reborn,” sighed the Master, “into a new body.”
“But— ”
“You have been with us a long time,” said the Master. “We have accepted you and what your role is. How often did you ease those who required transition from this life into the next so that they could continue on their karmic cycle towards Nirvana? When we let you in, we let in with it the knowledge of death. Little did we know that death had no knowledge of himself. It was karma that brought us together – life and death, yin and yang. Would you deny me a peaceful transition and submit me to unnecessary pain and suffering? The world is pain and suffering. The Buddha taught us a way to help those alleviate that and work towards Nirvana. You have been given a great gift – to be an instrument to help remove suffering.”
“But I suffer—”
“That is your choice.” The Master closed his eyes and took a deep ragged breath.
The Guest lowered his eyes. The Master was right. It was his choice. When he glanced back at the Master he saw clouded eyes peering at him and he knew what he needed to do. “I will do as you ask.”
“Thank you,” whispered the Master.
The Guest stepped back, the taste of his friend’s ancient blood on his lips. The dichotomy of pleasure and pain for his actions bound him to the spot. In a daze he watched the old monk step forward to check on the Master, but the Guest knew it was unnecessary. Silence compressed the chamber. The monks awaited word to what their hearts told them.
The old monk straightened his back, glanced at the Guest and then nodded at the row of monks. The Master was dead.
New chanting took over and the oppressive sadness seemed to alleviate. Sombre happiness tinged the tones of their voices. The middle aged monk stood and exited through the double doors. Not long after low blazing notes from the ceremonial horns blazed through the monastery setting a flurry of activity into motion.
The Guest glanced from the remains of the Master to the old monk, halting the old man in his steps to leave the room. “What is happening?”
The old monk smiled up at the Guest. “We must prepare for the Master’s return.”
Confusion pulled down fine brows of white. “I don’t understand. The Master is dead.”
A dry weathered old hand alighted on the Guest’s arm. “You do not think he will return?” The question was more statement and the Guest shook his head.
The old monk shook his head as if a student did not understand a simple lesson. “The Master will be back. He has always come back. This is not the first time. It will not be the last.”
“But he is dead,” stated the Guest, uncomprehendingly.
“For now, yes,” replied the monk. “He has given us clues on how to find him. As it was important for you to be what you are and to alleviate his suffering from this form, so was it important for the Master to be released at this point so that we may find him in time once again.”
“I understand the idea of reincarnation—”
“But you do not believe in it.”
The Guest shook his head. “No.”
“Then stay, wait and watch. You will see, when we have found the Master again, that our friend is not gone, but has returned to us once again, you will know.”
“Know what?” asked the Guest, frowning.
“That life and death are ruled by Karma.”
The Guest watched as the old monk walked out of the room and then turned back to the husk that once held his friend. Yes, he would wait to discover if the old monk told the truth. He would wait to see if Karma truly ruled Death.
If you have enjoyed this short story, please check out Karen Dales’ Award Winning Series “The Chosen Chronicles” which include:
“Changeling: Prelude to the Chosen Chronicles”
“Angel of Death: Book One of the Chosen Chronicles”
“Shadow of Death: Book Two of the Chosen Chronicles”
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