Burial

By Beka Gremikova

The king was broken in pieces.

Ezahtira shouldn’t have been surprised. Ever since the gods punished the kings for their corruption, the nation of Cadmar had suffered the Two-Taloned Curse. The First Talon turned each king into a stone-like substance at death, after which he would crumble. The Second Talon forced every generation of royal embalmers to puzzle their king’s pieces into order to attempt to send him peacefully into the afterlife. However, so far the ritual had merely kept the kings from reincarnating as a monstrous nibya, turning them into Ghoul Kings instead.

Ezah sighed. There must be a way to break both parts of the curse. She looked across King Rihat’s scattered stone limbs to Advisor Tienak. “Is a nibya really so much worse than a Ghoul King?”

“At least we can fight a Ghoul King. You can’t fight a nibya.” Tienak glared down at Rihat’s frowning face. “And considering no one else is with us, it would come after either me or you.” He clutched the edge of her embalming table. “And if a nibya robbed you of your afterlife, Ezah…”

“You think I’d like it if one took yours? But I don’t want a Ghoul King coming after you, either.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Unless I break the curse entirely, there will be monsters.”

Tienak offered her a small smile. “The embalmer’s ritual might ward off both nibya and Ghoul King.”

“I suppose we’ll see.” Unconvinced, she dipped her fingers in her embalming oil and started rubbing it into Rihat’s limbs.

Tienak murmured, “No one will blame you if you can’t break the curse.”

She met his gaze. “You won’t?”

“How could I?” His eyes glistened, soft when they should have been demanding. “So many others have failed. I only ask you to try.”

“I can try.” She lowered her lashes. “But I will only perform the ritual prayers. No spell-casting or summoning like the other embalmers before me.”

Tienak sighed. “None of that ever worked.”

“Only the ritual prayers,” Ezah repeated, slapping oil on another limb more forcefully than necessary. She didn’t like thinking of the awful things her predecessors had done out of desperation. “Plain and simple.”

Tienak nodded assent and fell silent as she finished rubbing on the oil and set Rihat’s limbs in their proper places.

Then came the final step: the healing prayers. The weight of the Second Talon settled over her. She had to succeed. She had to save their land. She could feel Tienak watching her, and though she knew he expected nothing, his gaze added to her unease. She snatched the warding linens and slowly wrapped Rihat’s body, closing her eyes to murmur the chants. The words tumbled out, the longings of long-dead ancestors haunting every syllable.

She finished praying, and the room seemed to spin. Fighting the sensation, she clutched Tienak’s robes. “We need to leave in case the warding doesn’t work.”

Tienak walked her out into the hall, but when she tugged at him, he gently removed her hand from his tunic. “You go. I must stay. If anything rises, I’ll kill it.”

Panic grasped her chest. “No,” she whispered. “Not you.”

“Ezah, I was sent to stay after you’d done your part. You’ve done it. Now I must do mine.” This time, his gaze was demanding.

She lurched forward, but he shut the door before she could cross the threshold. A moment later, the bolt slid into place.

She banged her fists against the door until her hands went numb. Tienak did not answer.

Torchlight tossed shadows along the walls, and silence swept out all rational thought. She ran through the surrounding antechambers, searching wildly for hidden passages or something with which to unlock the door, but she found nothing. Cadmar’s sacred embalming chambers had been designed to honor gods who looked down on such secrecy.

Her fear threatened to suffocate her. She tore back to the embalming chamber, pressing her ear to the door. At first, she heard nothing—neither a man’s hoarse last breaths nor the snuffling of a hunting ghoul.

Then, swishing, and a hiss of breath.

The hair on her arms rose.

Something was in there.

Tienak or a Ghoul King.

Her hands trembled. She had to risk calling out. For her, not knowing whether Tienak was alive was worse than any Ghoul King.

Too tense to think clearly, she reverted to formalities and blurted, “Embalmer Ezahtira requesting entrance to the embalming chamber.”

Footsteps echoed, the bolt grated, and the door flew open. She shrieked from instinct, then covered her mouth, her ears ringing from the echoes. The urge to cry hysterically overcame her fear.

Tienak stood in the doorway, grinning. “Nothing happened.” Behind him, Rihat’s corpse lay still on the table. “The curses are broken!” He wrapped his arms around her, robes swishing.

She pressed her cheek against his chest and exhaled.

“How?” she asked.

“Well, you refused to add to the ritual…”

“Ahh, so the ritual itself did it,” she said, almost giggling at the simplicity.

“You’ve saved me a lifetime of worrying, my lovely Ezah.” Tienak rested his chin against her hair, and she felt him swallow. “The other advisors asked me to be the next king.”

Realization sprang on her like a lion. “And before you accepted, you wanted to ensure the curse didn’t fall on you. Oh, Tienak…” She hugged him tighter.

After she’d counted thirteen breaths, he chuckled. “You have to let me go, Ezah.”

She shook her head, her face buried in his tunic.

“Just for the burial,” he said softly.

She blinked. Just. Her breath caught. “Just?” she breathed.

“Just.” He leaned down, his nose brushing hers. “I think it is time our courtship finally concluded. With a wedding.” And he kissed her.

When he released her, Ezah had nearly forgotten all about Rihat and burials. Yet there would be no monster seeking vengeance for her negligence. After generations of terror in Cadmar, a king finally rested in peace.

Can you guess which song inspired this story? (This month it could be any time period, any genre.) Share in the comments!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Beka Gremikova lives, writes, and dreams from the Ottawa Valley, Ontario, Canada. When she’s not globe-trotting, searching for Narnia, or exploring new cultures, she’s gushing over anime and manga, BBC classical adaptations, and video game characters. She has been published in the A Kind of Death anthology from Uncommon Universes Press, and is currently working on a short story and poetry collection of fairy tale retellings.

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