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Ember Cawood · Adventurer Joined: 22 Dec 2008 Posts: 44

She was sitting alone again with that look on her face. The girl they called Ember did this sometimes, and Henry didn’t know why. He looked to the sky and closed his eyes, the sun a warm red glow through his eyelids. The breeze was warming up bit by slow bit, a sure harbinger of spring. He could feel a storm stirring somewhere off to the east, but for now all that mattered were the fluffy cotton clouds that sailed past in the endless deep of the clear blue sky. The storm wouldn’t come before night fell. The wind tousled his mane and felt heavenly as it ruffled his lingering winter coat. Spring was not far off, and the vernal sun was already warming his bones.

Henry peeked back down in front of him and saw Ember gazing somberly from her rock perch and watching the wind ripple the water in an endless dance of sparkly…sparkly….Mmm….sparkles. The sun was so warm, and the breeze...

Henry’s eyes closed again as he half-dozed, Ember leaning back against his foreleg as he leaned, even if subconsciously, against her as well. Her back was warm too, and Henry found himself drowsing languidly in the silence of the afternoon.

The sound started low, but Henry jerked awake with a start. His brown eyes wide, he looked quickly down to where Ember sat, still drowsily leaning against his leg. He was sure she hadn’t heard it. The pink ones never seemed to hear as well as he did. Deep in his gut, a feeling of protectiveness kicked in, and his heart began to race. He whinnied and snorted, distracting Ember from her reverie. She stood up and looked at him, half-grinning with a look of expectation. Henry lowered his head and picked a wildflower with his teeth, waving it tauntingly in front of her.

“Gimme tha’ ye silly thing. Ye dinnae need teh pick them things. They’s pretty. Gifts from the sun, they is. Wot ye gotta go an’ pick ‘em fer?” Ember reached helplessly for the flower as Henry waggled his head and flapped his lips, keeping the flower just out of Ember’s reach. She snatched at the flower again, and nearly got it this time. Henry raised his head, keeping the flower above Ember’s head and beyond the reach of her frail human arms. Her hands were getting faster as of late, and Henry had more trouble keeping things away from her.

Ember jumped up on the rock and leapt for the flower, snagging it with one hand in a single fluid movement. Henry could only stare slackjawed at her in astonishment. She was getting much faster.

The sound arose again in the north, and Henry looked around frantically. He gingerly snagged her bandana from her hair in his teeth and trotted off into the middle of the clearing, looking back at Ember to make sure she was chasing him. He remembered how she acted when she heard the sounds from the North.

Ember was chasing Henry through the tall grass, her red hair now unbridled and wildly blowing in the wind. The horse squealed and trotted ceremoniously away, bandana dangling from his teeth as he flung it in circles with a toss of his head. Ember’s laughter rang out behind him, urging him forward.

A distant sound arose again, this time much louder. And this time, the laughter like silver chimes on a hitching post stopped altogether.

Ember Cawood · Adventurer Joined: 22 Dec 2008 Posts: 44

A cold pain stabbed at the pit of Ember's stomach, and she shuddered. How could this be? The swell of moans and screams from the distance combined in a crescendo that was unmistakable, especially when she had heard it so many times...so many dark and terrifying nights before.

Ember closed her eyes and let the memories she had repressed for so long wash over her mind and heart, wave after wave, until her body felt limp. She slumped to her knees in the middle of the clearing. The rise and fall of the voices battered Ember's mind until she couldn't stand it anymore. She lay down on the ground and wept like a child.

***

Steve had always been her protector, as far back as she could remember. He was the best big brother a girl could ask for: funny, handsome, and protective to a fault. Ember didn't even remember when her parents died. Some plague they picked up in a swamp while traveling abroad had taken them when Ember was about four years old. Steve was nearly ten years older than Ember, and he had sworn since that first day that he would always take care of her.

The early years were easier. The merchant women were always eager to give food and clothing in an unfortunate case like theirs. "What a pity," they'd whisper as they packed a basket for Steve. "A baby raising a baby," and click their tongues out of pity or disapproval.

But Steve did a great job of raising Ember. She'd always had someplace or another to get in out of the rain. Always had enough to eat, if not a little to spare. And she'd never had to fight a day in her life for anything she needed. Not until he left.

But she remembered that day clearly. Ember was fifteen, and trying to teach herself the skill of tailoring. She was sewing a ragdoll out of calico cloth scraps they had received in a basket of bread. She hoped to sell the doll for enough money to buy Steve a new pair of gloves--the soft ones she had seen in the tannery near the bank. The basket itself had been returned to the shopkeeper with a handwritten note that said simply, "Thank you."

Steve sauntered up in his typical confident fashion. One of the tavern waitresses was holding his hand, tagging along behind him with a wide-eyed, tragic look upon her face. With his free hand, Steve led a lanky brown horse.

Ember Cawood · Adventurer Joined: 22 Dec 2008 Posts: 44

"Wot's all this, then?" Ember asked, eyeing the horse and the crestfallen waitress suspiciously.

Steve laughed heartily, his green eyes twinkling. He looked like Ember--no one ever doubted the two were siblings. Deep red hair and peridot green eyes. But he was much more dashing, Ember thought. The ladies at the tavern always swooned and cooed when he walked in. But maybe they'd have reacted the same way to an abandoned puppy.

Steve raised the waitress' hand to his lips and kissed it reassuringly as she stifled a sob. "Ah've brought ye summat, Bug," he replied. He handed the chestnut horse's rope over to Ember. "'E'll be a good 'orse. A lass yer age shouldn't ha'e teh walk ever'where anihow, 'specially not wi' feet as bare as the day she's born." Steve frowned at Ember's dusty bare feet.

"God gimme them feet teh walk wi' an' tha's wot ah intend teh do," Ember stated flatly. Now wot's really goin' on? Tha' lass dinnae seem teh be grievin' o'er the loss o' a skinny brown 'orse."

Steve pushed the rope into Ember's hand. "Ah'm goin' away fer a few days, thassall. Ah met a man at th' Golden Pickaxe 'oo 'ad some work fer me. Ten thousan' gold fer a three days' work. If'n ah likes th' work, ah kin sign on fer another coupla weeks."

Ember frowned. The bar wench trailing behind Steve should be glad Steve was off to make some gold. Ten thousand gold--Ember couldn't begin to wrap her mind around how much that would be. For three days' work? There was something that Steve wasn't telling her. Something the tavern waitress already knew. Ember looked down at the ragdoll she was making. She had just hoped to make twenty gold if she'd found someone to buy it.

Steve looked at the doll too, and grinned. "Tha's right purty, Bug. Yer gettin' better ever' day." He could tell there was more on Ember's mind than her project, though, and added, "Don' worreh aboot me. Ah'll be jes' fine. It's jes' a job minin' fer some black rock a feller from Britain wants. 'Pparently the man don' 'ave any idea 'ow teh mine 'tall. It's not dang'rous er anythin'."

Ember looked up at Steve again, his smile reassuring her. But a quick glance to the face of the smitten waitress sank her heart to the bottom of her gut again. Steve had very little mining skill. Surely there'd have been scores of strong miners around the Golden Pickaxe who would jump at the chance of such a quick fortune in return for a few days of their time.

"Ah don' 'ave long, gots teh leave wi'in the hour if'n ah'm goin' teh get th' job." Steve squeezed the waitress' hand and let it go reluctantly, kneeling next to Ember and reaching inside their tiny tent. He gathered his scant belongings and slung his unusually heavy pack to the ground next to them. He opened the pack and took out a bag of grain.

"This'll feed yer 'orse till ah git back, and ah kin get ye more in a few days. Won that nag in a card game, ah did. Little skinny but ah kin fatten 'im up in no time." Steve replaced the bag of grain with most of his clothes, and a pair of shoes almost as old as Ember, then closed up his pack and slung it back over his shoulder. He rose, still confident as ever, and took the waitress' hand again.

Ember had never seen him act this way toward a woman. Perhaps he'd finally fallen in love. Ember knew it'd happen, sooner or later. Maybe that's why he felt the need to go out and make something of himself.

"I gots teh get goin', Bug. Ye can come wi' me if'n ye want. Ah jes' 'ave teh go back t'the Golden Pickaxe an' sign me life away firs'." He winked at Ember. "Then ah'll be back in a few days wif' enough teh buy ye a proper 'orse. In a few weeks, ah'll buy ye a grand 'ouse, wi' windows to th' east tha' let in the sunrise. Piles o' gold in ever' room, all th' gold ye could e'er spend." He smiled brightly at the thought.

Ember put away her ragdoll and led her new brown horse as she followed Steve into Minoc, all the way to the Golden Pickaxe. There were a handful of other men, all as excited as Steve with the prospect of providing for their families.

Steve marched right up to a table where a fat, well-dressed man sat with a list of names. "Stephen Cawood?" the man asked. "Sign right here." Steve did as he was told.

Ember felt a pang of panic as her brother approached her. The other men were already picking up their belongings and kissing their families goodbye. Steve turned and kissed his new love tenderly, wiping away her tears with her thumb and whispering softly to her as he rested his forehead against hers. She nodded and whispered her response before kissing him one last time.

Steve turned back to Ember and smiled. "Ah'll be 'ome in three days, Bug. Ah promise." He kissed Ember's forehead and she instinctively hugged him tight, clinging to him out of some desperation she could sense, but couldn't explain.

"It'll be a'ight, Bug. Don' worry 'bout me. Ah kin ta'e care o' meself." Steve gave her one last squeeze and released her. "Promise me ye won' come lookin' fer me. If summat should 'appen ah don' wan' ye teh be in danger. Tha'd defeat me 'ole purpose. An' ta'e care o' that 'orse. 'E may be worth a damn someday."

With that, Steve smiled again and gave a last look toward the waitress who now stood next to Ember, biting her lip. He took up his pack and strode out of the Golden Pickaxe with the last of the hired hands, following the fat man who rode a stallion at a slow lope, leading the men up the trail to the north and away from Minoc.

In the days that followed, there were sounds from the mountains to the north: explosions, and the occasional scream. Gradually, over the next few weeks, the sounds grew more ominous. Moans and screams that built and quelled and crashed like waves at the edge of the sea. No one who left that day ever returned.

Ember kept her promise, and waited, fretting her sanity until the day the sounds stopped. That was the day a waitress named Lauren hung herself from a rafter in the stable near the tavern. After that, Ember never sought out the girl that Steve had left behind. She knew there was no point. Not anymore.

Ember Cawood · Adventurer Joined: 22 Dec 2008 Posts: 44

Ember began fighting back her tears as she lay in the clearing. The wailing in the northern mountains had begun again to fade, and with it, the memories that she had allowed to wash over her.

Henry stood over her, head lowered, his warm breath steaming against her neck as the warmth of the last daylight began to wane. Ember sat up, hugging Henry's head against her tightly. He'd dropped her bandana in front of her on the ground.

Ember tidied her hair, pulling it into a ponytail again, and wrapped the bandana around it to hold it in place. She rose and looked off toward the north, where the purple veil of twilight was already blanketing the mountains, and a bank of clouds towered ominously off to the east. She turned back to Henry, who watched her warily.

"C'mon 'Enry, l'essgo 'ome." The horse followed her faithfully, occasionally snuffling at her ear as she walked. "Oi, ye little bugger, that tickles!"

The sounds haunted Ember's head long after they had faded. It had been a few years since Steve had left, he must have died years ago. But with renewed sounds to the north came the hope that she could make sure he didn't die in vain. She had trained in the years since Steve passed, and she was better with a blade than even he had been when he left.

Ember pulled out a brightly polished dagger with a thin, transparent film of green along the edge of the blade. "Ah 'ope ye aren't mad at me, 'Enry. We may be goin' somewhere that ain't all tha' pleasant. Ah don' think ah can let another soul be lost teh th' evil tha's in them mountains, or teh th' evil tha's in the 'eart o' some fat cat from Britain. Ah ne'er broke a promise to me brother, 'Enry. But mebbe it's time ah did."