Free Arianna Rose: The Gates of Hell (Part 5) by Jennifer Martucci, Christopher Martucci Page B

do to help, and each time she’d been told to rest.  She was unsure why everyone was treating her as if she were injured, or otherwise incapable of participating in preparation rites.  Washing Ramiel’s nude, lifeless body wasn’t near the top of her list of things she wanted to do before she died, but she would have done it for Briathos, for any of the elders.  They were her people.  She felt a deep-seated sense of kinship with them.  But apparently her help was neither wanted nor needed.  So she sat in her cabin and waited until she was informed that the pyre had been completed. 
    When she stepped outside, the sky was an ethereal shade of electric blue as the sun wept salmon breadths that lingered just above the horizon line.  The entire community had gathered around Ramiel’s body positioned at the center of an elaborate network of meticulously stacked lumber.  Speaking in a voice soft like summer rain, Briathos began the ceremony. 
    “My dear friends, we are here with heavy hearts, all of us, to say good-bye to Ramiel and wish him well on his passage to the next realm,” Briathos began.  The woods were still, so silent Arianna swore even the animals were hushed with heads bowed in reverence.  “The shell that houses his soul, his flesh and bone, will join with the ancient cyclone of nomadic winds that have journeyed across thousands of centuries, witnessing countless births and life of every kind,” he continued.  “And the wind will be better for it, the world will be better for it.”  Briathos’ voice caught, a sound that pained her so profoundly her breathing hitched.  Then he reached out a hand to Sorath who stood beside him and accepted a torch.  The torch was lit, and he began an incantation. 
    Words Arianna had never heard and in a tongue foreign to her ears were haunting wisps echoing in the clearing.  She found herself lulled by them, calmed physically, yet with heightened awareness, as if her power was mingling with that of the people gathered. 
    When Briathos had finished his chant, he shook his head slowly with a sad, bittersweet twist to his lips before gesturing for Arianna to join him. 
    Flutters of panic flitted in her belly.  She had no idea what she would say.  She’d only known Rami el for a short period of time.  But during that time she realized she was connected to him, to each of the elders, by a profound and irrevocable bond. 
    Swallowing hard, she walked on trembling legs and stopped beside Briathos.  He clasped her hand briefly, and the moment his skin touched hers, she felt heat spiral from his fingertips, a warm rush that soothed as it spread up her forearm until it settled throughout her chest.  When she looked to her hand then to Briathos’ face, she saw that his pellucid blue eyes shined with affection, with encouragement, and any fear she’d been feeling, any doubt, vanished.
    “We have lost a great teacher, a great warrior, and a great friend.  But we needn’t cry.  We needn’t mourn.  He isn’t gone.”  Her voice welled from an untapped resource deep inside her, rich and clear.  “His mortal body will become one with the wind, just as he wanted it to, and continue forever.  I don’t know about you, but I personally feel a bit safer knowing he will be the breeze that blows at my back as I walk through life.”  A rumble of somber agreement rolled through the group.  “And while my heart aches to know I won’t see him in the forest training, or filling his plate at breakfast, I know I will see him again.”  She lowered her eyes to Ramiel’s slain body and addressed him directly.  “Until we meet again, my friend, I wish you safe travel.  Godspeed, Ramiel,” she concluded, and tears that had been gathering spilled over her lower lashes.
    As soon as the final word left her lips, Briathos stooped and touched the flame to the base of the stacked wood with his lit torch.  The lumber ignited immediately and he resumed his prayer.  A