Chapter 8
They carried the pearlwood casket slowly across the hallows. Calythé, Ramisse, and Monavelle each held one corner, while Thunder took the fourth. Tears streamed down their faces. Following them in a silent line were Topaz, Emi, and Saffa, and behind them was an unusual procession of pixies and unicorns, for Embrea had been the keeper of the creatures of the hallows. They reached a spot under a tall pearlwood tree where a grave had been dug, soft turquoise grass lining its walls and floor. Calythé opened the casket, revealing Embrea's tranquil, beautiful face, and Topaz lowered it into the grave. Then the three women began to chant an ancient Terrarian burial incantation.
"Before life must come death,
After death comes new life,
Before light must come darkness,
Before happiness, strife.
But all wounds shall heal,
Time is the soothing balm
That dulls the pain of memory
To an everlasting calm.
Today we commemorate
Thy last days since birth,
So we relinquish thy body
Unto hallowed earth."
The melody washed over them, sad and achingly sweet, and for a moment they felt like everything would be all right. "Amen," Monavelle murmured absently, and it seemed like enough. Then Emi screamed and pointed a shaking finger at the casket. Embrea's corpse had sat up, straight as a bolt from the waist above. Its face was still perfect and beautiful, but its eyes were empty, dull.
Ramisse jumped in front of the party and unsheathed her greatsword, but at that moment the corpse spoke in a deeply sepulchral tone. Its lips weren't exactly in sync with the words, and the message was cryptic. "Heed my words, O magicians. Fear not, for the god shall fall and the phoenix shall rise from the ashes once more." At that, the corpse fell back into the casket and the casket slammed shut.
Everyone immediately panicked. Only Calythé kept her cool, using her dirt rod to magically fill the grave. There was great confusion and yelling until a tiny voice was heard above them. "Help!"
It was a small voice but somehow it was projected across the hallows, as if the caller were miles away. "Please, help me!"
Monavelle snapped into action first, engaging her fire wings and flying toward the source of the sound. Then followed Ramisse and Calythé, and the magicians followed the flying women. The search took them out of the hallows and into the crimson. Then they found the source of the little voice. Huddled against a dirt hump and surrounded by hordes of crawlers was a small scrap of dull colors. It was a little girl, about Saffa's age, but not nearly as well fed or cared for. She had stringy gray-brown hair and mud-colored eyes and was so thin that they could count every rib through her threadbare robe. She was completely filthy from head to toe and shivered with pure terror. Ramisse drew her sword and casually, lazily really, picked off every one of the crawlers. Emi rushed forward and rolled the little girl onto her back. She laid the back of her hand against the filthy forehead and immediately drew back. The mite wasn't just shivering from fear, she was burning with fever. She looked up at Emi with wide, frightened eyes, breathing hard, and sneezed violently. Emi turned to Ramisse.
"We'll take her to the Magicians' Guild," she said matter-of-factly. "She needs to heal, and we have superior healers." Then she looked back at the little girl staring up at her. "Don't be afraid," she said softly, stroking the tangled hair. "It's all right. You're safe." Finally she tenderly gathered the ragged little bundle in her arms and struck out across the crimson.