Page 78 of The Storm
“Then sing something,” he said. “Sing a song that Azril might like.”
“Why do you want to meet him so much? Do you have a death wish I need to know about?”
Max chuckled. “Not at all.” He put his arm around her and grabbed a handful of her backside. “I have too much living to do right now.”
“Then why—”
“I have a theory,” Max said. “And it has to do with two baby boys left after a massacre. Boys that Death didn’t take when he came for their mothers. Boys who disappeared for some time and then reappeared, completely unharmed, at a scribe house near their destroyed home.”
Renata’s eyes went wide. “You think Azril is the boy you remember?”
Max’s eyes danced. “I don’t know. But he would have been there, wouldn’t he? To carry their souls to heaven. He would have been with them. He would have seen us and… I don’t know. Done something.”
She couldn’t ask why knowing mattered so much to him. She had books of history written in her heart. She knew every story about her birth and childhood. The roots of her family were dug so deep that even when the tree had been chopped at the base, it had sprung up again in her, too strong for death to kill it.
Max’s roots had been ripped out and never truly replanted.
So Renata did the only thing she could do. She opened her mouth and sang a song to welcome Death.
My soul is ready
I am ready to fly.
Fly to the heavens
where my ancestors rest.
My soul is ready
to take your hand.
Death, where do you stay?
Bringer of peace, where do you rest?
Old friend, I am waiting for you.
You visit the king in his bed of gold
and the beggar you treat the same.
Full welcome are you,
friend to singer and scribe.
Death, come swiftly for I am in wait.
As Renata sang in the Old Language, she felt the air stir around her. She blinked and saw a man who was not a man appear in the middle of the clearing. He was beautiful and his face was unlined, though the silver eyes that watched them through thick black lashes bore the weight and bearing of eternity.
Far from a celestial being, he seemed to grow from the earth. He sat on the ground. His face was unlined, with light brown skin and Baltic features as familiar as Max’s. He was shrouded in a cloak made of fine bark and grass, but when he moved, it sounded to Renata like a bird taking flight. An eight-pointed star shone on his forehead. His presence was immense, though he appeared no taller than Max.
“You’re Azril,” Max said. “But you’re not the boy.”
The angel smiled.No.
The words didn’t leave the creature’s mouth, but he spoke them into their minds. Renata knew Max had heard the same voice, because his shoulders slumped in disappointment.
Wait. The angel raised his hand.Wait.
