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intrepid-scribblings · 2 years

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Ember Stone

Summary: A lone woman traveler, a scorched canyon, and a love that may bring life back to a cursed place.

Warnings: None

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Forsaken.

If there was one word she could use to describe the barren, burnt-out canyon she now traversed through: it would be forsaken.

Forsaken by nature, forsaken by the gods, and forsaken by both the nations that once fought over it.

Burnt and fallen trees littered the steep slopes that rose from the ground before turning into vertical rockfaces that punched into the blue skies above. The land at the bottom was shrouded in a cold shadow, a cold stream trickled through the center, slowly etching its way deeper into the earth. Myaz hadn’t fully retreated to her southern home for the year yet and so her icy tendrils still had their grip on this corner of the land. A north wind blew across the plains and brought with it the promise of Vedan and her warm spring rains.

In the canyon though, the north wind was nowhere to be felt.

The canyon used to be a verdant place, a popular and safe pass between two kingdoms that once were close allies.

How things had changed with a mad and foolish young king desperate to prove himself to his people.

It was a harsh war where both powers were almost equally matched and were separated by the natural barrier of a mountain range with few passes between them. This canyon was one such thoroughfare and one of the biggest strategic points between the two warring armies.

She looked around the ashen ground, scoured by intense flames that burnt away any hope of regrowth for the foreseeable future. On the steeper slopes, signs of where the loose soil had sloughed away in the rains were evident. Burnt and crushed ruins of settlements dotted the landscape by the stream. Anyone who had tried to return to their home was quickly chased off by the sheer inhospitableness of the canyon now.

The soil couldn’t sustain plants and so the animals didn’t return. The stream that had once been teeming with fish was now devoid of any life. The exposed soils were unstable and anyone who tried to rebuild their homes in the wasteland would lose them as soon as the rains came.

Those who tried to eke out a living for more than a few months inevitably came back unsuccessful. They described howling winds that tore at their homes and knocked down the few standing trees left and an unnatural cold that permeated the air and chilled them to the bones - even in the height of summer. After all the souls who burnt to death in the fire or were slaughtered on the battlefields, she wouldn’t be surprised if the whole cursed place was haunted.

No one was entirely sure how the fire started.

A stray ember from a soldier’s campfire lighting a patch of grass in the middle of a hot and dry summer perhaps.

Or a mage’s fire spell going out of control in the chaos of battle.

Or maybe one of the sides decided if they weren’t going to keep the pass then no one was.

No one would admit to it and regardless of the cause, the result was the same: the canyon turned into a hellish landscape almost overnight.

The kingdoms were at peace now but the canyon remained a black scar on the landscape, a brutal reminder of a pointless war that had killed many on both sides of the range.

Her lips pressed into a fine line as she warily gazed upward at dark shapes hiding in the piles of fallen trees on the slopes. The bandits apparently thought they were being stealthy as they tracked her through the valley. Her hand went to the gleaming ax on her belt, hidden under the woolen cloak she wore. Those who dared travel in the valley now were bandits, a few very well guarded caravans, and the truly desperate travelers.

And her.

She didn’t consider herself desperate. More … motivated.

At her hip were the aforementioned ax (really meant for wood cutting than battle) and a sling with a pouch of lead bullets meant for hunting small game. She wore a linen shirt and skirt under the cloak and carried a rucksack on her back with her bedroll and provisions. Her dark hair was streaked with grey and tied into a braid that fell down the middle of her back.

To the bandits watching her: she looked like an easy mark.

And so one of the more intrepid of the bunch sauntered into the path to talk to her. The obvious leader of the group, he wore thick cloth armor and a rusted chainmail shirt that looked like it had already been hacked at a few times.

She surmised he must have looted it from a corpse.

He gave her a seemingly friendly smile that sent chills down her spine. She kept her expression neutral, her hands and weapons stayed hidden under her cloak.

“It’s not often we get visitors passing through here,” the man said lightly.

She stopped a few feet from him; in her periphery, she noted his men had moved closer in. Her heart pounded in her chest though her expression remained calm. Even with the knowledge that this was an obvious ambush, she knew she couldn’t fight them off all at once.

“I want no trouble,” she said evenly.

The man examined her with a critical eye before saying, “... now that’s up to you, isn’t it?”

“You’re the ones with the weapons,” she said, “And you’re the ones who’ve been stalking me like a pack of wolves through this canyon since this morning.”

She shrugged, “Surely there are more … lucrative targets you can pursue?”

“Lu… what,” the man’s facade cracked a little as he looked genuinely confused.

“A merchant caravan must have more to offer to you than a single woman who just wants to go about her business,” she elaborated.

He smirked, the confident act was back, “Ah that’s where you’re wrong. We believe everyone has something to offer us.”

He looked her up and down, “So what have you to offer us? Your answer may save your life.”

His men moved in closer and he put his hand on his side sword as he took a step towards her.

Her younger self would have buried the ax in his head by now and probably be cut down in the fight that followed. There was a chance that taking out the leader would cause the others to scatter but there was an equal chance that they would just attack her anyway and sort out the leadership issue later.

No, this required a more … diplomatic touch.

And by diplomatic, she really just meant bluffing.

“I have bread,” she shrugged and talked as if she was simply haggling with a difficult merchant at market day, “And some dried meat. I’m simply a poor traveler.”

The man eyed her closely, shocked that she barely showed any emotion at the fact that he and his men were about to cut her down. He noted the small scars that etched the dark skin that was visible to him, the calm brown eyes that never-the-less carried a dangerous glint to them, and the stature that (while obscured by a cloak) reminded him of a stately oak rather than a scraggly old pine.

In a moment his mind was made up.

He backed away from her, “We have no need of bread and meat traveler,” he said, “If you truly have nothing to offer us then you can be on your way.”

His men looked at him in surprise. A few stepped closer to the woman but stopped when he shot them a look.

She simply nodded, “Good day then.”

And then she continued her way down the old road, only pausing when she was out of sight of them to take a deep and shaky breath. She knew this wasn’t over.

Meanwhile, the man’s men crowded around him, “What was that all about?” one of them asked.

“That wasn’t an ordinary traveler we can just push around,” he said lowly, “She’s got the look of a killer. A warrior.”

“A warrior traveling alone and unarmored? Why?” one of the other bandits questioned.

The man snapped at his underling, “I don’t know everything, just that she’s dangerous to confront directly! She knew that we’d been following her and she’ll have her guard up. We need to be smart about this.”

“... Smart?”

“I know you’re capable of it … at least once in a while.”

Darkness descended on the valley.

She set up camp near the stream in a stand of dead trees that provided cover, concealment, and shelter.

Though the ominous creaking of the scorched trees’ weakened trunks filled her with much more dread than the idea of facing the bandits again. She forwent the fire, deciding she needed her night vision intact if the bandits attacked.

Her cloak would have to do to ward off the chill.

Her cloak and the one item of value she carried on her. It thrummed like a tiny heart, emitting a warmth that spread out from its resting place on her chest. She clutched where it sat under her shirt and closed her eyes.

“Take this, it will keep you safe.”

The stone amulet settled heavily over her heart as the other woman put the necklace on her. Gods she was beautiful, with her wild mane of black hair surrounding her round face. Her skin reminded the warrior of the obsidian sands that graced the northern beaches of their home.

The stone was dark red and orange in hue, black lines splintered across its smooth face, and as she stared down at where it lay on her chest she could have sworn it glowed.

“But it’s yours,” she had said dumbly as she looked back up at the woman.

“The king calls you south to fight battles over cold mountain passes and in raging blizzards,” she had said with a sad look in her eyes, “While I stay here safe and warm in the north. Trust me, you need the protection much more than I do.”

She smiled, “I will return for the stone … and for you when the battles are over and the war is won.”

The woman opened her mouth to say something but a large hand clamped over it before she could utter a word.

The cold metal of a knife blade to her throat and heavy pressure on her arms and legs woke her up from her slumber. She mentally cursed herself, falling asleep like some damn recruit!

The bandits had her pinned and the torchlight seared into her eyes as she glared up at the man who had approached her earlier in the day.

“I was expecting more of a fight,” he said with a sick grin on his face as he knelt to look her in the eye. She was hauled to a kneeling position with two men holding her arms behind her back and a third holding a knife to her throat so tightly that it drew blood.

“I suppose I overestimated you,” he continued and looked sharply up at the men that stood around, “Get her bag and go through it.”

She growled as she heard the sounds of her pack being dumped out on the ground behind her. They wouldn’t find anything more than her provisions and a few silver coins.

She wasn’t lying when she said she was a poor traveler.

She glared up at the man, staring him in the eyes.

But he wasn’t staring back, rather slightly downward at where the amulet on her chest now glowed a dull orange light through the linen shirt.

He reached towards her chest and she tried to recoil but couldn’t against the strength of the men that held her down. She shuddered in disgust as his hand went down the front of her shirt and ripped the amulet from its chain, he held it victoriously in his hand.

It seemed to grow hot in his grasp as he examined it, “A magical artifact? Well I think you’ve just paid your toll, traveler,” he grinned.

“Give it back,” she said lowly, dangerously.

The amulet glowed a violent red now while the air around them grew as cold as a midwinter's night. The wind began to howl and she swore she saw forms in the mist that formed off the river and surrounded them. The torches went out and plunged the clearing into darkness.

“Wha-,” the man began to ask, the amulet burned into his hand and he dropped it with a scream.

A loud, splintering crack was the last thing he heard before the scorched remains of a tree came crashing down on him in the wind. Chaos descended on the camp and someone screamed, “Ghosts!”

The man holding the knife to her throat seized up with panic, dropping the knife as he stood up and stared at something far in the distance, “No! No!”

He stumbled backward and scrambled away from the unseen threat. The grips of the men holding her slackened somewhat as they lost focus on their task.

She took advantage of that and fought her way free. The man to her left got a swift elbow to the nose that knocked him out of commission for the time being. As she elbowed the man to her left, she twisted her body and broke free of the man on her right’s hold. Before he could react, she was already on her feet while he scrambled to get up.

The last thing he saw was her boot coming up towards his face.

The clearing was now filled with light and the sounds of men shouting. Torches lit up the polished iron and bronze armor of a group of caravan guards as they descended on the fleeing bandits. She blinked in surprise, quietly raising her hands in surrender when one of the guards turned towards her.

“I take it you’re not with them?” he asked casually as he pulled his sword from the body of a fallen bandit.

“No I am not,” she answered calmly, “I am just a traveler.”

He nodded, “We are camped a little way down the canyon and we heard the commotion - the braver of us,” he pointed to himself proudly, “decided to go investigate. I’m glad we did.”

“Thank you for your assistance,” she said gratefully as she lowered her hands. She looked behind her at the crushed body of the leader, a few feet away sat the stone amulet, glowing subtly and gently once more.

The air around them had warmed again and the mist receded. The caravan guard shuddered despite himself, “I always hated traveling through this canyon,” he admitted, “Too many restless souls.”

She knelt and picked up the amulet, placing it in her pocket before staring upwards at the clear skies above.

‘Somehow… I know you were involved in this.’

She stood up and looked in disgust at her pack and its contents that were now strewn about the clearing. The man looked at her with sympathy, “I’m sorry, traveler. You may stay with us for the night if you’d like - safety in numbers and I’m sure you have quite a story to tell.”

She sighed and nodded.

An hour later she was sitting in front of a cheery fire, recounting tales of her travels to the gathered caravan. The guards stared wide-eyed at her descriptions of the battles in the war, a lot of them were young men who were boys when the war happened. They latched onto every word, imaginations wild with visions of them fighting alongside the armies in grand battles over mountain passes, the air around them shimmering with protection spells.

“And why are you here? In this forsaken place?” one of the older men asked her, staring at her sharply, “Surely a warrior of your renown would have a place at the king’s side.”

“I lost someone,” she said, “And I hope to find her … Do any of you know what happened the night of the fire?”

The man hesitated for a moment, “Aye,” he finally said. His eyes gazed at something far away as he stared into the flames of the campfire, “I was in the village, part of the lord’s militia when the battle broke out here. The fire consumed the canyon not long afterward, I still hear the screams of the people in my village when I travel through here. They speak in the winds and walk in the mists, their presence is in the cold chill you feel down your spine the moment you step foot in this valley.”

He shrugged, “I don’t know why I still come out here, the money is good for someone who knows these canyons as well as I do I suppose.”

“The night the fire took the canyon, I heard another noise over all the others… a woman yelling out over the roar of the fire and the screams of the dying. If I hadn’t seen it for myself I don’t know if I would have believed it but she seemed to be calling the fire to her. The flames around the canyon seemed to be dying as she yelled.”

He closed his eyes, “Whatever spell she was casting, it wasn’t enough. The only thing that could stop that fire was Cyrvon themself and they didn’t deign to bring the rains until well after my home was lost to me forever.”

She looked up at the mention of the woman who yelled the spell, “... Do you know where she fell?”

The next morning the guard escorted her to the base of a cliff, a narrow path was barely visible up to the top, “This is where I saw her,” he said, “She tried. She truly did. She wouldn’t give up until she had consumed the fire or the fire consumed her.”

“I know,” she replied. She knew all too well.

He stared at her for a long moment, “I hope you find the peace you’re looking for.”

And with that, he went back down the hill to the caravan.

The woman looked up at the narrow track that zigzagged its way up the steep slope, ending at a bright white caprock at the top. She took a deep breath, letting the air out slowly between her teeth as she looked at the journey ahead. Mentally steeling herself, she began to ascend the cliff, “You never made things easy for me, did you my spark?”

It was an hour of winding and stumbling up the treacherous trail; if it had been relatively traversable before - it was now almost impossible to get up due to erosion and rockfalls. But every time she considered stopping, she felt the reassuring weight of the stone in her pocket and she continued upwards.

“I will always protect you.”

“I’m the soldier, I should be saying that to you.”

Even though she had climbed several hundred feet to the top of the rock, the surrounding cliff sides still towered over her. She looked down below at the old road, the caravan had made progress through the valley and were now disappearing around a bend in the river. On the bright white limestone caprock, there was a black scorch pattern etched into the stone. Lines of black radiated inwards from the edges of the caprock to a single point at the center.

She walked to that point, a shallow and ragged depression had been carved out from the force of the fire that had been drawn to this single point. A forest fire was an impossible force to stop, she had to have known that. But she tried anyway.

Why did she have to be so stubborn?

The woman sat down at the edge of the depression, staring at the black stone as tears welled in her eyes, “My love,” she said as she lightly felt the rough stone, all that remained of her wife, “I’m sorry it took me this long to come back to you.”

She removed the stone from her pocket and placed it in the center of the depression, “You protected me when I was sent to the south … When I heard about the fire and the mage who tried to stop it, I didn’t want to believe it was you for the longest time.”

Quietly, she drew her knees up to her chest and put her arms around them, resting her chin on her knees, “But you never answered my letters. You never found me after we emerged victorious from many years of hard-fought battles. You never returned to retrieve your stone and me.”

She sniffled, tears flowing down her cheeks as she stared down at the depression, the grave that held her beloved, “It took me so long to return to you, to accept that you were gone… But I’m here, and I’m never going to leave.”

A warm, northerly breeze swirled around her.

Her eyes closed, the exhaustion of the hike taking over as she dozed off…

The other woman stared at her lovingly, “My heart, you did so well. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you when you came back.”

She knelt down and kissed her on the forehead, then the lips, “Rest now, my love. Let us both protect this valley.”

When she awoke with a gasp, she still felt the warmth of the kiss on her lips and forehead. She looked around her, at the center of the depression the stone had sunk into the earth. Shoots of new plant growth surrounded the stone and the woman let out a shocked laugh.

“Let us bring this valley back together, love.”

Years later, the caravan moved through a changed landscape.

The old guard rode on a horse, his bones ached with every step and he knew this would be his last season on the roads.

But what a season it was, the valley had changed before his eyes after meeting that woman that night a few years ago. Green grass carpeted the slopes, deer and elk grazing on the new growth. Young trees, about knee height and growing quickly, dotted the slopes. Stone houses were being built where the old villages had once stood. Villagers hunted the deer and caught the fish that had finally returned to the stream.

And upon one of the limestone-covered hills, a small house sat where people could go to and listen to the story of the woman who tried to save the valley from the fire and brought it back to life. They could go and see the ember stone that now sat fused in the rock, surrounded by green grass that radiated outwards from the center.

#writing #Em writes things #short story #feel free to reblog like please actually reblog if you like this #they're in love your honor #lesbian characters #characters of color #old grizzled war vet just wants to say goodbye to her wife damn it #wlw fiction #lesbian fiction #fiction #prose

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