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[Ember Cawood]

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By the time Ember reached the mountains, the day was waning and giving way to twilight. The sounds from the north had grown steadily louder and more clear, and now she could hear every clink and groan, every shout. Some sounded angry, some fearful, and always there were underlying moans of pain or fatigue.

Ember rounded the bottom rim of the mountains and dismounted. She led Henry carefully through the rocks at the base of the mountain until she could see the encampment nestled just ahead. The flickering flames of the fire were the only light, apart from the warm glow of lantern light inside one pale tent. Outside the tent stood a figure she recognized. The fat man from the Golden Pickaxe, who had led Steve and so many others to their deaths here in these same mountains stood just outside of the tent flap. He tossed back his head and took a long draught from a bottle of ale, then turned and disappeared inside. A plan began to formulate in Ember’s mind as she crouched behind a rock. This man would be the first to go.

Henry followed Ember as she backtracked, looking for a place to hide for an hour or two until the lights went out and the fire died down. A small crack in the bottom edge of the mountain hinted at a collapsed mine or cave, nearly filled with rock. Ember moved enough of the stones to make room for Henry to stand, then she shimmied through the rocks farther inside the cave.

Beyond a narrow passage, the cave opened up into a larger room. She bumped into a wooden shelf along one wall, upon which stood an old lantern. She realized that someone must have stayed here at some point, but there were no other signs of life in the darkness that swallowed the room. Ember felt around and found what she needed to light the old lantern, astounded that it would still light at all.

Ember held up the lantern to examine the room. A fire pit lay in the center of the floor, and makeshift wooden shelves lined the walls. Rotting books were stacked on some of the shelves, and others held various-sized chunks of black stone. Ember heard a gasp, and realized that she was not alone.

Instantly, she placed the lantern back on the shelf and drew her kryss. She crouched as a figure emerged, half-staggering from the back corner of the dimly-lit room. The man looked ill, crazed, and starved. His thin frame was concealed beneath a dirty blue robe. His beard was almost as shaggy as his long red hair. But his eyes were still somehow kind. Maybe even familiar. Ember readied her blade to strike. The man paused in the center of the room.

Ember felt a strange prickling sensation up the back of her neck, as though her body sensed something that she had not yet discerned. Her eyes grew wide and she felt the blood draining from her cold face.

“Steve!!” Ember sprang toward him joyously.

The man took a step backward in defense, and uttered words that she’d heard before. Just once before. Des Sanct. Corp Por. Kal Vas Flam. His words were spoken matter-of-factly, and even through the terror she felt at the meaning of the words, Steve’s voice was the sweetest sound that she heard in years.

There was an explosion that deafened her. It felt as though her eardrums had been blown out. The pain was suddenly beyond anything she had felt in her life. Flames sprang forth from the dirt floor of the cave and engulfed her. Ember heard a strangled cry she barely recognized as her own voice, and then she crumpled into a heap amidst the magical flames that consumed her flesh. Just as suddenly as they had appeared, the flames disappeared. But their damage was done.

Ember lay breathing shallowly amidst the clearing dust and smoke. Steve approached with great trepidation, a look of disbelief upon his sallow face. “Bug?”

Ember managed to turn her head and look into Steve’s eyes. No recognition registered in her gaze. Only pain and bewilderment. Ember’s body was broken. She took one last breath, and then she was gone, that same expression set in stone upon her face.

[Ember Cawood]

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In the first moment of clarity Stephen Cawood had felt in years, two things became abundantly clear. Ember had broken her promise, and Steve had killed her for it. Not that he’d have harmed her for all the blackrock in the world. If only he’d seen her through unclouded eyes. If only he’d recognized her two seconds sooner. Two seconds…

Ember’s lifeless body was charred and twisted as Steve knelt cradling her to his chest and rocking her gently. He muttered half-formed phrases, unable to wrap his mind around what had just happened. “Bug, why’d ye come…”

There had to be someone who could help. Someone who could fix this. Steve searched his memory, wading through the clouds in his mind like quicksand. He struck upon a word solid enough to anchor upon, and fixated on it for a moment. Matriarch.

Surely she could help. Ceinwyn had been known to bring people back from the dead. He would have to be fast…But maybe she could help.

“Hold on, Bug,” Steve pleaded as he picked Ember’s body up off the floor. He held her tightly to his chest, and carried her out the narrow passageway that had led her in. At the entrance stood Henry, jittery, having no doubt heard the exchange inside the cave.

Steve recognized the horse and quickly tried to lead him outside. But Henry saw Ember draped in Steve’s arms and smelled death. He spooked and trotted outside, then turned to look back at Steve and try to make sense of the situation.

Desperation nearly crumbled Steve’s resolve. He looked hopelessly at Henry and held up Ember’s body with a plea. “Help me…”

Henry snorted, then crept up to Steve’s side. Steve draped Ember across Henry’s back and then mounted up behind her. He didn’t even have to urge Henry forward, as the horse broke into a dead sprint for town. He didn’t slow until he passed the flying banners of the gypsy tents and approached the moongate. Together they stepped into the moongate and Steve shouted, “Umbra!”

On the other side of the gate, the Henry again flew toward the one place the chestnut horse remembered near this city. The tavern where Ember had met the Umbrans lay just outside the city gates. Steve clung tightly to his sister’s broken body until the horse came to a stop in front of the tavern. Ceinwyn stood on the front steps, as if she had expected his arrival.

“Matriarch,” Steve sputtered, gasping for breath as he dismounted and took Ember again in his arms. “Please…”

Ceinwyn looked at Ember cradled in Steve’s arms. “What have you done…”

The shock and panic had begun to wear off. Steve began to weep. “She’s me sister, Ah din’t mean teh…” His voice trailed off as a sob caught in his throat.

“How long has she been gone?”

Steve winced at the word. “Few hours, Milady. If anybody kin ‘elp me, Ah ‘ope ye…well..Ah’ve ‘eard ye kin raise th’ dead…”

Ceinwyn simply arched a brow. “So you’re Stephen Cawood. I’ve heard plenty about you.” She chuckled. “Just about anyone who’s ever met Ember has.”

Steve looked a little confused, but he was becoming frantic. “Kin ye do it, Milady? Kin ye do wot they say?”

Ceinwyn nodded slowly. “If I do this, she won’t be the same, Stephen. She won’t remember you, and she won’t be how you remember her. She may not even look the same. She won’t remember her life…or even being alive. She won’t even remember that infernal nag she’s dragged through every tavern in Sosaria.”

Steve looked back to Henry, remembering for a moment the day that he gave the horse to Ember, then looked back to Ceinwyn. Tears streaked the dust on his cheeks, and he was nearing a breaking point.

“Me Lady, Ah’ve ‘eld fast teh th’ notion fer years now tha’ Bug…Ember...were out there somewheres safe. She weren’t wif me but it’s all that ‘elped me ‘old onta me sanity. Ah cain’ gi’e that up. Not knowin’ I were the one tha’ took ‘er outta this world. Ah cain’ imagine th’ world wifout ‘er in it, one way er ‘nother.”

“Very well,” said Ceinwyn. “Give her to me.”

Steve caught his breath as reality took hold. “Kin ye gi’e me jes’ a few minutes alone firs’? Ah ain’ e’en got a chance t’say g’bye yet…”

Ceinwyn nodded, turned, and entered the tavern. Steve sat on the steps, still holding Ember. There were no words he could say. From somewhere in some lost memory, the song their mother used to sing them to sleep ran through his head. Steve rocked Ember gently and brushed her disheveled hair back out of her face. He began to sing to her bones since he could not sing to her spirit:

If I knock…what will I say? I know you’ve been in your home
And I’ve been far away…
When I knock…who will I be? I know you’re a different you,
And I’ve forgotten me.
Underneath the stars there are a million ways to be the way you are...
All of them dying.
Underneath the rays there’ll be a million ways to live the days ahead…
Why are we crying?
There were words…on my skin. You touched them and they woke again,
Now they’re on the wind…

Steve started as something brushed his arm. He looked up to see the face of Henry, leaning down to snuffle Ember’s forehead.

“Ah’m sorreh, ‘Enry.” He stood and went to the front door of the tavern. It swung upon and Ceinwyn was standing in front of him.

“Ta’e care o’ Bug, Milady. Please…”

Ceinwyn held out her arms to take Steve’s burden. “I’ll do my best. But when you go, do not return. There is nothing you can do by trying to stir memories that will not be there.”

Steve agreed, and quietly departed the tavern, unsure as to where he would go. Anywhere but Minoc. Henry left a lingering look toward the door of the tavern, then turned to watch Steve go. Slowly, Henry turned to follow Steve, the moonlight shining like a silver ribbon down his back. Ember was gone, and there was nothing left here for him. Steve did not beckon, and Henry did not hasten to his side. All that tied them together was their love and grief for a barefoot street urchin who would wake tomorrow and never remember them.

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(One final message as I draw Ember's story to a close. Please note that I cannot and will not attempt to lay artistic claim to the beautiful lyrics to the song "'Neath the Stars." This song is the sole creation and property of Todd Schaefer and an amazing band called Railroad Earth. Thanks so much for reading!)