Raising the Dead

by Heather Kuehl

Part 1 appears
in this issue.

conclusion

“Follow me.”

She followed him outside and around to the back of the cabin. At the edge of the forest was a fresh grave with a blank slab of marble on top of it. Jackson hadn’t even carved into the stone yet. He really thought that she’d be able to bring back his wife.

Kinandrea wondered how the grave could still be new. Perhaps Jackson knew an earth witch? Earth witches had the ability to keep graves fresh. Only a strong witch could keep a grave fresh for so many years. She looked around. The sun would be setting soon.

“I would like to start this before the sun sets.”

“Why?” he asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

“I just prefer daylight,” she said. He didn’t need to know that, if the spell went awry, she would like to see the outcome. Seeing often led to fixing, and she would need to fix it before it got one of them killed.

“I’ll get everything together then,” he said quickly. He briskly walked around toward the front of the cabin, leaving her alone by his wife’s grave.

Kinandrea knelt down, picking up a handful of dirt. She whispered an old elvish prayer as she watched the dirt run through her fingers. “Please, by the gods that watch over me, please don’t let me fail,” she whispered in her native tongue. “Give me strength. Give me power.”

“What did you say, Kinandrea?” Jackson was back, his arms loaded with everything she needed.

“It was nothing.” She took N’lan De’Munth from Jackson and opened it up to the page she needed. “Hand me the bowl and the herbs,” Kinandrea said as Jackson sat across from her at the head of the grave.

“Oils too?” he asked and she nodded. He placed the little bags of herbs and the vials of oil in the bowl and handed them to her.

“I need you to put four white candles around us. North. South. East. West.”

Jackson didn’t question why; he just did it.

She reached across the grave and pulled a small green candle out of the pile of ingredients. White symbolized purity and protection. The white candles would help keep any bad magicks out. The green candle was for growth. Kinandrea placed it on the blank marble slab and watched as Jackson lit them all. Then she looked down at the book and read aloud in elvish: “Hear my words, wise ones of old. North. South. East. West. I beg of you, keep me from harm. No magick within but my own.”

“Your language is pretty,” Jackson muttered as she turned the page.

Now came the tricky part. Her heart sped up as she read aloud once more from N’lan De’Munth.

“Old ones, hear my plea,” Kinandrea slowed down as she spoke, her tongue carefully forming the elven words. “Here lies one whose time has not yet come. Release her from the underworld. Release her from death.”

She placed her hands, palms down, on the marble slab. She felt her magick slide through her fingers and into the grave beneath them. A smile crept to her lips as she continued to read. Only a little bit left. “With my magick, raise her up.”

A breeze tickled her skin, and her magick felt one of the candles go out. Their protection was gone, leaving the spell open for malevolent spirits or evil magicks. She quickly said the rest, hoping that the damage hadn’t already been done, “With my magick, give her life. With my magick, restore her soul.”

She looked up at Jackson. His fearful eyes were staring at the unlit candle. “Say her name, Jackson,” she said in his language. Kinandrea could taste her fear as she spoke.

“Annisah.”

“Annisah, come to me,” she said in her own tongue. She felt the ground begin to shake. The candles all went out as the marble slab slid off to the side. Annisah’s body was rising up through the dirt to the surface. Nothing, not tree roots nor the marble slab, would get in the way. The edges of a wooden box came into view and within moments the entire box was sitting on the top of the earth.

Jackson ran to the coffin, prying the lid off with his sword. Then he stopped. For a moment Kinandrea thought that the spell had backfired, that something had gone wrong, until Jackson let out a wordless sob and gathered Annisah into his arms.

“Annisah. Oh, Annisah.” He sobbed her name over and over again. Her arms wrapped around him, hugging him close to her body. She was alive. Annisah backed away from Jackson and smiled up at him. She was dressed in a white silk gown with golden accents. Her blonde hair was loosely curled, framing her beautiful face with its softness. Her eyes were a shade of blue that Kinandrea had never seen before in nature. They sparkled with life as her full mouth curled up in a smile. Jackson’s smiling, tear stained face froze as he gazed into her eyes.

“Jackson?” Kinandrea asked, unsure of what was wrong. Annisah was alive. The spell had worked.

“Yes, elf. Your spell did work.” Annisah said as she turned toward Kinandrea. “But there is no one named Annisah here.”

A flash of bright light erupted from its hands, sending Jackson and Kinandrea slamming into the side of his cabin. Kinandrea fell to the ground, struggling to catch her breath. She looked beside her. Jackson was staring at Annisah, grief filling his eyes.

“Who are you?” Kinandrea gasped.

“That doesn’t concern you, elf.” It raised a hand in front of its face, watching the magick spider web through its fingers. “Who knew that humans could sustain magick?” it purred.

“So can elves,” Kinandrea said as she stumbled to her feet. The thing within Annisah’s body looked at her, laughter glinting through her eyes.

“Oh yes, with N’lan De’Munth. What wretched objects, books are. So easily destroyed.” Its hand waved, as if swatting at an insect, and the book burst into flames. Kinandrea could do nothing but watch as the pages quickly curled into ash.

She turned to run but her foot slipped in the loose earth of Jackson’s garden. The creature in Annisah’s body was right behind her. Jackson was still on the ground, his back pressed to the wall of his cabin. Uncertainty filled him.

Kinandrea knew that he could help, but doing so would risk not getting his wife back. He had to decide what was more important; saving an elf he had just met or possibly getting his wife back.

“Ah yes, cowering. I remember cowering.” It held its hand out, fingers splayed, “I also remember torture.” Its fingers sparkled with energy as miniature lightning bolts rained down on Kinandrea. Searing pain enveloped her body. Her hands clawed at the ground, her back arching as she tried to get away from the pain.

“I always hated elves. So regal. So wise. What made your kind so special?” The pain intensified with its words. Kinandrea opened her mouth but the pain robbed her of her screams. She tried to find her magick, to use it, but it was like looking for something that didn’t exist.

Then it was over. She lay on the ground, her lungs sucking in air. The creature inside Annisah walked closer to her, its blue eyes never leaving hers, “This is getting tiresome, don’t you agree?”

“Who are you?” she rasped again.

“I said that was none of your concern,” it growled, a bright flash of power sending Kinandrea end over end. She crawled across the ground to Jackson. Tears stung at her eyes, threatening to fall as she tried to figure out what to do. His eyes met hers, concern deep within their depths. With a sigh he got to his feet and, tears glittering in his eyes, he lifted his sword.

“Do you actually think that you can stop me?” screamed the beast within Annisah. Kinandrea scrambled to her feet as Jackson stalked over to it.

“A sword?” it sneered as it raised its hand. Kinandrea cringed as its magick enveloped Jackson. He cried out in pain as the magick tore through his insides like a wildfire on a hot summer’s day. He fell to the ground, the sword still clutched in his hands, as the creature’s magick made him wish he were dead.

“I can arrange that,” it said as it knelt beside him. “Ashes to ashes.”

“Dust to dust,” Jackson spat as he used the last of his strength to plunge the blade deep within its chest. Annisah’s body stumbled back, staring down at the blade with laughter in its eyes.

“I told you it would do nothing to me,” it growled as its hands came up to remove the blade.

“Annisah was human,” Kinandrea said as she dragged herself to Jackson’s side. Jackson’s arm slid around Kinandrea’s waist, helping her to keep her balance. “And that’s a mortal wound.”

The thing within Annisah grasped the blade and began to pull it out as the ground started to shake. Its eyes grew wide as it looked at the elf. The spell that Kinandrea had cast to bring back Annisah was broken.

“As with life, everything has its end,” Kinandrea said in her native tongue as the thing in Annisah’s body pulled out the sword and crawled back into the wooden box. The dirt gave way like wet sand at the beach, and Annisah was once again buried within the earth. The marble slab slid across the ground, resting on top of Annisah’s grave once more. Kinandrea looked down at Jackson and, upon seeing the tears in his eyes, started to move toward her supplies.

“Don’t. Please don’t,” he said, his voice rough with grief. Kinandrea looked over to him. “Annisah’s dead. She’s dead.”

He collapsed on the ground, tears coursing down his cheeks. His body wracked with sobs and Kinandrea gathered him up in her arms. She held him until he passed out from grief.

* * *

“Kinandrea?”

“I’m in here.”

Jackson followed the sound of the elf’s voice into his kitchen. Kinandrea was hunched over a cutting board, using a large knife to cut carrots. The savory scent of chicken stew reached his nose.

“I don’t have chickens,” he said. He also didn’t own the brown dress that Kinandrea was now wearing.

“I went to Navar.”

“And you came back?”

Hearing the surprised tone of Jackson’s voice, Kinandrea grew intent on cutting the carrots.

“It’s been two days and I was worried,” he said.

Jackson watched as Kinandrea made her way around his kitchen like she had spent all of her life there. Annisah had been like that. His heart rose up into his throat as the thought came to his mind. His wife wouldn’t be doing that ever again. Almost as though Kinandrea could read his mind, she looked up,

“I could try again if you want. I think I remember most of the...”

“No,” he snapped. He went to Kinandrea and grasped her shoulders. He gazed into her jewel-toned eyes and brought a hand up to cup her cheek. “No,” he said softly. “She died four years ago. I should have realized that she was in a better place.”

Kinandrea put a hand on his shoulder as her heart broke for him. He had faced reality. His wife was dead.

“Then I’ll be going,” Tears sprung to Kinandrea’s eyes as the words left her mouth. She stepped away from him, gathering up her things in a small leather bag. She had run from this human for so long, only to have his grief touch her heart. She didn’t want to leave. But she was sure that Jackson didn’t want an elf hanging around.

“Can’t you...”

Kinandrea turned to him, her ears catching something in his voice.

“Jackson?”

He stood before her. She could hear his heart racing in his chest. “Can’t you stay a while?”

“Stay?” she breathed. Jackson’s hand grasped hers as he stood up on tiptoe, his lips brushing her cheek.

“Yes,” he said breathlessly.

A smile came to Kinandrea’s lips. “I’d like that.”

Open Challenge 288...