Deathless

By Belinda Burke

Sweeter than strawberry, darker than blackberry, better than please.

Son of the Wood God, son of a mortal woman, Myrddin has lived a carefree life for sixty years. Now, with his mother dead, the wilderness that has sustained him is an overflowing well of powers he can no longer control. Sent by his father to seek someone who can help him, the one Myrddin finds is a nameless stranger, whom he calls Kas.

Kas, so named, is still what his nature demands he be. He is Death—its essence and its king...its master, and its open gate. Since the first death that came into this world, he has been alone, essential and solitary—until Myrddin. For his sake, Kas aids in building the Rite of Spring, and in the process learns love...and loneliness.

Between life and death, want and need, there is just enough space for a new beginning. The question is how it continues—and whether it ends.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pride Publishing
• Release date: Mar 29, 2016
• ISBN: 9781786513939

Belinda Burke

I am author, storyteller, poet - property of one fiance, one cat, and one coffee addiction, perpetual insomniac, and resident of the New England coast! In my spare time I read anything I can get my hands on, and spend far too much time writing stories of the tantalizing, the tempted, and the taboo.I'm currently writing for Pride Publishing,and fulfilling my primary dream of authoring my own books after many years of writing on the sly. I welcome reviews, comments, critique, suggestions and even just friendly messages with no purpose, so don't be shy!

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Deathless

ISBN # 978-1-78651-393-9

©Copyright Belinda Burke 2016

Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright March 2016

Edited by Jennifer Douglas

Pride Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Pride Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Pride Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2016 by Pride Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

Pride Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

DEATHLESS

Belinda Burke

Sweeter than strawberry, darker than blackberry, better than please.

Son of the Wood God, son of a mortal woman, Myrddin has lived a carefree life for sixty years. Now, with his mother dead, the wilderness that has sustained him is an overflowing well of powers he can no longer control. Sent by his father to seek someone who can help him, the one Myrddin finds is a nameless stranger, whom he calls Kas.

Kas, so named, is still what his nature demands he be. He is Death—its essence and its king…its master, and its open gate. Since the first death that came into this world, he has been alone, essential and solitary—until Myrddin. For his sake, Kas aids in building the Rite of Spring, and in the process learns love…and loneliness.

Between life and death, want and need, there is just enough space for a new beginning. The question is how it continues—and whether it ends.

Dedication

For Stella

The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?

– Edgar Allan Poe

Chapter One

The nights were growing chill, but the change of the autumn foliage had turned the river valley into a sea of flames. Leaves fell like sparks, browned the underbrush and bared the branches of the wood, but not only the canopy was failing. On a bier in the open, breathing slowly and quietly, Myrddin’s mother, the old chief’s daughter, lay dying.

Mother, you can’t go!

Oh, it’s time. It’s past time, Myrddin. Look at you, my little shoot. You don’t change any more, but you’ve grown, and your mother is old and only a woman. Now is my time.

Myrddin gripped her fingers tightly. The lines of her face were smooth, but worn, and her hand was limp in his grasp. The only brightness left in her was in the green shimmer of her gaze. Already he could feel her slipping away.

He supposed he should be grateful it was happening now, at the end of autumn, and not when he’d already begun his winter sleep. But how could he be? Grateful. He could have hated it—her dying—if she didn’t look so much like she was letting go of something heavy that she’d carried for far too long.

It was still agonizing to watch.

Why did death have to come so gently? Like a fall of rain—like falling asleep after making love. Myrddin could have hated it, except that she welcomed its coming.

"You’re going where I can’t follow, Mother. I won’t have anyone if you…when you die."

She laughed, or at least she made a sound that was something like it, and he winced. You have to learn to let go. Let it be. We’re all mortal, aren’t we? Yes, all of us but you. And you…my son, if you can’t learn to let us go, you’ll have no companion but pain, and that’s…not…what I wanted for you.

"Mother…"

Red leaves fell onto the furs that covered her, then mingled with her hair as she tried to lift her head. One descended lightly into the spread-open fingers of her unclasped hand, and she smiled. "You’ll have to learn. You will, won’t you? Promise me you will."

"I…promise."

"Good boy. Now, let them bring me where I want to go."

Myrddin lifted his gaze. Her bearers were already waiting around them, their eyes averted from the final parting of mother and son. "Mother. You don’t have to do this. What good is it to just—"

"I want to die where it began. That’s all. For you, and for me. Won’t you come with me? I won’t make a journey in this world again."

He stared at her, almost shook his head, then squeezed her fingers and let go. I’ll be watching. I can’t… I’ll just…be watching.

She sighed, reached up and patted his cheek with her free hand, and the bearers came forward and took up her bier with careful hands. His mother’s fingers slipped out of Myrddin’s grip, and he stepped back, and back, watched her go into the forest then turned and fled up the side of the valley. The sun was setting, and the evening came full of swallowing shadows that he followed along the ridge above the crest of the valley.

He couldn’t stand it, couldn’t bear it, but he was equally incapable of avoiding it, of denying her or leaving her behind. Even at a distance, even in darkness, he could see the cortege accompanying his mother’s body, heard the wails of the tribe’s women as they fell in line behind. He wanted to go to her, stand with her, wait until the end, but he couldn’t do it. Not this.

As he thought it, the wind moved, a sudden hush of gusts that nearly blew him over. It was only then, forced out of his grief, that Myrddin felt the oncoming tide. Power was flowing around him, the green whispering. The wildlife was growing awake, aware, and the blood of his father inside him, the immortal link that connected Myrddin to the growing and greening of the world, pulsed alive.

The whisper rose through the wood until it was a roar among the leaves, a howl in the throats of wolves. The sudden baying of stags mingled with a thousand fluted melodies as the birds scattered from the trees, and the trees bowed, bent, rolled their shoulders and tossed their heads with no need for the wind.

Still, the wind was rising, carrying whispers and roars, howls and birds. Awake! Wild spirits of the spring sped past Myrddin, not focused on him, not paying him any attention, and he closed his eyes but couldn’t close his mind to the message. Awake! He comes, He comes.

Myrddin didn’t need to wonder who. There was only one reason for this much excitement in the wild. My father is coming and