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[Ember Cawood]

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“C’mon ‘Enry.” Her soft voice called to the horse as he grazed, and he hastened to her side as she made her way through the camp.

The months had grown long since the gypsies departed the Minoc camp. Tribes and clans still passed through from time to time, seeking those who fled many months before. Ember was more than happy to point them in the right direction, but when they followed, she was left again in solitude. At very least, in the months since Maman Sabine had passed through Ember’s realm on her way to the far beyond, Ember had found her voice again, and remembered why she was cursed to wander the night alongside the lanky chestnut horse who was her constant companion in life, and now also in death.

Those who passed through rarely payed her any mind. The eyes of the gypsies saw far beyond the physical world around them, and it rarely surprised them to find a spirit still wandering the lonely paths of an abandoned camp.

This morning had brought a clan passing through on their way to the Compassion Camp, and the campfires were lit in preparation for a meal before they rested. They went about their settling-in chores as Ember passed through with Henry in tow, but no one noticed her but one.

His dark hair spilled carelessly down over his shoulders, and his eyes glinted like emeralds as he stopped to watch her. His eyes were kind, and the intensity of his gaze stopped her in her tracks as he spoke a quiet “Hello.”

Ember watched him for a moment, but found no reason to fear him. “Mornin’ Sah.” She studied him and added, “ye look like them wot left ‘ere a long time ago.”

He smiled in response. When again he spoke, his voice was full of exotic inflections, the likes of which she had never heard. “Do you wander alone this morning?”

Ember found herself rolling his words silently in her mouth, just to see how they felt. His eyes were full of life and experiences beyond anything she had known herself. They flitted back to the dusty horse that followed Ember, and then again to her face.

“I ne’er wander alone wif ‘Enry by me side. Though I don’ quite know why. I can’t even pet ‘im anymore.”

The stranger smiled warmly at her words, and queried, “Why can’t you pet him?”

Ember’s peridot eyes grew heavy with sorrow as she lifted her pale porcelain hand gently to the horse’s muzzle. The horse lowered his head as if to nuzzle her palm, but instead, her hand passed through him as if it were only a vision.

[Ember Cawood]

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The stranger stepped closer to Ember and held her gaze in his own, reassuringly. He reached out to her and spoke softly. “Take my hand, Querida.”

“Ah don’ think Ah can, Sah…” Ember looked dubiously at his outstretched hand.

“Trust me…”

His voice was so gentle and confident that Ember found herself reaching for his hand before she could again second-guess herself. It was the first time she had felt anything but the ground beneath her feet since a moongate had unraveled her soul from the rotting corpse to which it had been bound. It was more than flesh – an energy pulsed through her as she took his hand in her own, and she felt as if she were suddenly radiant, momentarily trading her single spirit for two. She looked up to his face, eyes alight.

The stranger uttered a few words in an ancient and foreign tongue. Her translucent hand in his became more solid, his spell infusing her flesh with substance. He lifted her hand in his own to Henry’s forehead. The horse lowered his great head to allow the touch, closing his eyes and reveling in the sensation. Ember stroked him gently, her face awestricken as the stranger allowed her to linger in the moment.

And then, the moment was gone. The stranger allowed Ember’s hand to slip from his own, and the spell was broken. Ember watched the man in awe as he stepped away from her.

“My name is Ancyous. What is yours?”

“Ember, sah. Ancyous,” she corrected herself. “Ah'm Ember.”

Ancyous nodded. “Ember. Meet me for dinner tonight. I’ll whisk you away and leave this solitude behind you.”

Ember was shocked. So many things ran through her mind that she couldn’t possibly give them all voice. And he stood tall and noble, awaiting her response. She mustered only a nod.

“Bien,” he smiled. “I’ll come for you.”

Ember could only utter a faint “Farewell” to trail behind him as he turned to go.

She turned her wide eyes back to Henry, who was still euphoric from the touch of his girl. “S’pose ‘e knows Ah cain’t eat, either?”

[Ember Cawood]

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She had doubted all afternoon that he’d return. She curled up on the ground and slept in an empty tent, though as always her mind never slowed. It was a reaction akin to cell memory for her to sleep, but restful to her soul. It comforted her to hold onto the habit, one small link to the days when she still drew breath, rather than going through the motions.

As the sun began to sink behind the mountains to the west, Ember woke and wandered into the waning rays, remembering the warmth of sunlight and the cool breeze that came down from the mountains. The fires were tended and the sounds of children’s laughter floated through the camp as she wandered the outskirts with Henry in tow.

She heard his voice, tinged with some exotic accent, before she saw him. “Greetings, Mija.”

Ember turned and smiled, finding Ancyous dressed far differently than he had been earlier in the day. His clothes were tailored, a rich shade of aquamarine, though they hinted at what she had seen the seafarers wore as they set sail in Skara Brae. His deep green eyes flashed brilliantly as he watched her turn.

“Ye came back.” Her words resonated with disbelief as she looked him over. She looked down at the pale grey dress she wore, somewhat ashamed. She wondered at what point she had forgotten to love colour. She could not even remember when she had put this on. Surely it had been since her death, as she had a love affair for rich, bright colours all her life.

“Si, of course I did Mija.” He extended a hand and spoke softly. “Are you ready?”

Ember looked around and nodded. It would be nice to see someplace new. Ancyous gestured as he spoke a few unfamiliar words, and a shimmering gate opened. Ember, following his nod, stepped through and found herself standing in front of a cabin in the jungle. Buccaneer’s Den, she thought. This can’t be good…

[Ember Cawood]

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The night had been pleasant. Ancyous was charming and handsome, and Ember wondered why she couldn’t have met him before it was….well, too late. She sat cross-legged across from him on the dirt floor of the cabin and caught herself forgetting sometimes, as they talked, that she was nothing more than thin air—not even that. The air itself held more substance than she.

In a lull in conversation, Ember glanced up to find Ancyous watching her in a way that would have made her blush. She wondered if her cheeks now held that pink, even as they did in life.

“Do you wander alone?” Ancyous asked, not taking his eyes off her. It was a question he had posed before, but this time she knew it meant something more.
Ember nodded, lowering her eyes. “Oo would want the spirit of a gypsy girl ‘oo wanders the night with ‘er horse?”

She could feel Ancyous’ gaze smoldering as he asked, “And before?”

Ember looked back up to him and smiled. “Ah spent th’ last few years o’ me life mournin’ the loss o’ me brother, an’ wanderin’ alone with me horse. Nobody wants that neither.”

Ancyous reached out slowly toward her with an intense emerald gaze. Then he closed his eyes, uttering a few words under his breath. A faint blue glow eminated from the point where his flesh touched her spirit and she felt the familiar pulse of his spirit against hers. Her skin again found substance as he brought her hand to his lips and kissed each of her fingertips lightly. The warmth and gentleness was beyond anything she had felt in the years since the light left her pale green eyes, and she closed them, forgetting even the semblance of breath.

Behind her, without warning, the door crashed in on itself and three overshadowing figures stood in the doorway. Ember turned, watching fearfully as one spoke to the other two. “Search the house.”

[Ancyous]

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I rarely allow anger an opportunity to creep its way to the surface of my disposition. It's such a waste of energy and almost never worth the expenditure, however the drows' sudden presence was unexpected, unnecessary and uninvited, coming at a most inopportune moment to say the least. A simple knock upon the aged wooden aperture would surely have served their purpose equally as well as bursting through it in the manner of savages, but these creatures of the underdark are nothing more than that, after all, and so I shouldn't have anticipated anything other than such behavior from them.

I am neither upset nor the slightest bit impressed by the events of last evening. It's merely who and what they are, however this wretched cell is unbearably caliente, the jungle's humidity oppressive. That they chose to place stained glass windows in this prison of theirs leaves me wondering at their intellect. Of course I quickly shattered one of these artistic escape hatches, but not as a means of departure - although it would be a lie to say the thought didn't cross my mind - but rather to provide outward passage for the stagnant air with hope for entrance of an occasional cleansing breeze.

They have charged me with "Trespassing, Insolence' and several other crimes too ridiculous to recall. A ring has been placed upon the middle finger of my left hand; "To prevent your use of magic," as it was explained to me. Asking a nobleman if he is armed is one thing, but asking the same of a pirate quite another. They missed their true opportunity when I offered myself to their search at the cabin, for casting has always been my last resort.

So, now I wait. A cold glass of sangria would serve me well in the meantime.