The Field of Ash and Bone

He had feared this place as a child, when he had known almost nothing about it. Now he had spent a whole lifetime hearing of the ancient taboos attached to this place. How a young woman had stumbled over the edge while leaning too close and died insane a few months later. How even the Tsufuruns had refused to fly their helicopters over the place. Perhaps there was nothing mystic about this place. Perhaps it was simply that it was full of deadly radiation, and that's why nothing grew there. Or perhaps the curse really was real… Paragus could not only fail in his mission, but lose his life as well.

He remained on the bank. He had to get up the courage to take that first step, to break the taboo. It was for Cochise, he desperately reminded himself. He was doing this all for Cochise. Paragus looked over the edge of the bank. Then he closed his eyes and stepped forwards.

He stumbled as he stepped, falling to his hands and knees on the ash, the bag falling with a bump at his side. The temperature seemed to suddenly drop. He crouched there with his eyes closed, feeling a painful wave of terror. He was touching the sacred ash. His bare hands were touching it! Paragus stood up rapidly. He felt horribly exposed, unspeakably blasphemous. His first instinct was to run back to the bank, but with all the will he could summon up he mastered the impulse. He stared ahead of him, to the wasteland of deadness.

Paragus went forth, running slightly, aghast at what he was doing. He tried to banish all thought from his mind but horrible suggestions kept presenting themselves to him. Was this not the greatest act of blasphemy ever committed by a Saiyan? And yet he was asking the Goddess for a favour. It seemed ludicrous.

He walked quickly, trying not to look around too much. The ground was unnaturally flat, flatter than stone, and walking on it was easy. Paragus began to doubt this field was composed of ash, as the legends said- it was not nearly as soft as ash, and each footstep caused a small crunching noise. Paragus gave in and looked around, but he saw nothing but pale grey ground underneath the moonlight. This place was unmarked in every way. It was disconcerting.

Paragus checked his watch again. He had wasted ten minutes. He started to walk faster. It was easier if he ran. Fear gave him strength and the nervous thoughts were pushed to the sides of his mind as the sand flashed underneath him. He ran more and more swiftly, his feet crunching against the strange ground. The air began to sing in his ears. Within a few minutes, he was at the centre. He felt fairly sure of this. Saiyans have a very good sense of direction.

Paragus checked his watch yet again. It was three minutes to midnight. He dropped his bag and stared up at the sky. A large cloud had appeared, though not large enough to obscure the reproachful moon. Paragus shuddered. The feeling of exposure, that he was doing something innately and horribly wrong, stole over him again.

Paragus looked around him- the edges of the plain were only just visible. He was surrounded by the flat, unchanging ground. He looked beneath his feet. He could see a piece of jewelled gold glinting quite close by, something that might have been a buckle or bracelet. He knew better than to try and pick it up. He tried to ignore it.

He pushed the feeling aside with great firmness. There could be no hesitation now. This was the moment of truth. He unzipped the little bag.

Paragus pulled out first the heart, then the flowers, slightly crushed, then the silver knife. He laid them all on the ground. He kicked the bag to one sight, feeling it was disrupting the purity of the ritual. He wished there was somewhere he could stow it away.

The seconds were ticking past. There was not much time left now. Paragus picked up his wife's heart and buried it in the strange earth at the centre of the Field of Ash and Bones. The earth, or sand or ash, was very dry to touch, and stuck to his skin like powder. He scattered the flowers over the top of the heart.

Now the part he feared most. He stood erect over the disturbed ground and looked directly into the moon. He put the point of the knife to the crook of his thumb on his left palm. Biting his lip, he drew it across.

In his nervousness, Paragus cut deeper than he should have. The tip of the knife brushed something that may have been bone and pain seared from the wound. Blood dropped heavily to the ground, staining the flowers and seeping into the earth. Its red colour was vivid even in the moonlight, supernaturally bright.

Grasping his wrist in pain and shock, Paragus felt tears of pain come into his eyes. The blood had hit the ground- was it too soon? He checked his watch. The hand reached midnight even as he looked. Too soon, but only just. He let a bit more blood fall on the ground to try and make up for it.

The pain was far worse than he had imagined it to be, and his head was cloudy with mingled thrill and agony. He knew he would have to say a prayer now, but he seemed to have forgotten the one he put together and words were not coming easily to him.

'Oh please,' he said, the loudness of his voice worrying him. 'Oh please.' Then he gripped his left hand in his right and fled.

He moved across the Field of Ash and Bones as lightly as a shadow. He was only aware of the ground pounding underneath his feet, and then he was lying on the grassy bank, cradling his wounded hand. Blood was still flowing from it and the pain seemed to be getting worse. He wondered if he had really damaged himself. Weren't there supposed to be veins in your hands? Paragus cursed himself. This would never have happened if he hadn't been so afraid.

He tore a strip of fabric from his robe and awkwardly tied it around his hand. The blood continued to seep through the black fabric, soaking it. Paragus got to his feet. He could not linger in this place. Holding another piece of fabric to his hand, he staggered through the pines and headed out into the moors beyond. Standing in the cold night air, Paragus realised that his whole body was drenched in sweat. His shirt was stuck to his back like wet lettuce. He was freezing cold, and his hand was emitting a regular throb. He thought of Cochise. If this worked, tomorrow he would see Cochise.

But as he walked back towards Pistopon, the pain in his hand a regular throb, the cold wind a torment, what he had done seemed appalling, ludicrous, an act of insanity. Staggering away from the Field of Ash and Bone, Paragus wondered if he really had gone mad with grief. The events of the last few days seemed like an enormous folly, and for the first time Paragus wished he had never thought to turn to Dark Magic.

He had to pull himself together. The inn, once a prosperous business, was falling apart because of him. He knew everyone thought he was losing his mind. Maybe, somehow, he could draw himself back from the brink, forget madness like this. He had Mehetabel to worry about. He would have to pick her up tomorrow. Paragus shuddered at what his sister-in-law would think if she found out about this whole escapade.

An hour later he finally let himself back into the inn. He tiptoed up the stairs and let himself into his room. Inspecting his wound by candlelight, he was relieved to see that the blood had stopped flowing. He washed it, wrapped a fresh bandage around it and went to bed.