Emma, pt 13

Want to start at the beginning? - Emma, pt 1

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“The dwin hero of our tale doesn’t make her appearance at the start. Instead we first meet the crafter Raycole. She was a legend in her time, her skills unmatched.”

“How come only the crafters in stories can do anything impressive?” someone whispered.

Emma looked around but could not find who said it. She cast her eyes to Zariah, who was staring into the fire with a scowl.

“She could call great whirlwinds from a clear sky, turn mountains to dust, and,” Jori stopped for a moment taking another drink, leaning her head back.

Sil scoffed and turned away from the fire.

“Melt her enemies’ swords right out of their hands,” Jori said when she finished drinking. “But her legend was not a good one. She was not loved or honored in her time. Men and woman feared her, feared the horrors her powers could unleash. She was shunned, scorned and persecuted.

“Wandering and alone she came across a long abandoned shrine to the god Fageis.

“Before Fageis was banished to the other side of the Divide with the other gods, he was the enemy of love, a blight on affection. But it is not simple hate that drove him, but love itself."

Jori moved around the fire, turning her head from side to side, which cast her voice in all directions, sometimes looking away from the circle entirely. Emma had to strain to hear her.

“I call Fageis he, but in truth he had no set gender, nor any set form. He was what he needed to be for those he loved.  If he saw a maid longing for the love of a handsome man, then he became that handsome man. If –”

A dwin woman grabbed Jori by the arm and spun her around so she was facing the circle again. Jori broke out giggling before resumed the story.

“So Raycole went out into the world –”

“Fageis!” the dwin boy shouted, “You’re still telling us about Fageis.”

Jori looked confused for a moment, then seemed to find the right spot in her mind, “Right. When the god Fageis saw an old man with a weathered but beautiful soul, who longed for a companion to see him to the grave, he would turn himself into a kindly old lady. If a child longed for a mother to comfort them, Fageis would be that mother. But,” Jori bent down, pretending to whisper and holding out a finger like she was about to divulge a secret, “this love never lasted. Fageis would see, all around, love just as precious and just as vibrant as his own. On every side were lovers, other families and friends and caring devotion.”

Lison’s hand moved off Emma’s shoulder and down her back. He twisted his fingers so they reached under the edge of her shirt. She felt hot blush in her face. She tilted her head up to see him, the world moving more than it should due to the wine.

He smiled at her and planted a small kiss on her cheek. Her chest felt full of something warm and light. She pushed herself against him and closed her eyes, listening to the story.

“This enraged Fageis, sent him into furies. How, if his love was so special, could there be so much of it in the world? He would lash out, destroy the object of his affection, taking farms and villages, and even whole cities with it.

“And so he went on, falling in love, changing every aspect of his being through devotion, then wreaking havoc in the wake of his jealousy. On and on, until he, like all the gods, was banished behind the Divide.

“This is what Raycole found in her wanderings, after the world had rejected her for her powerful craft. At the feet of this shrine she found her purpose. The crafter found her kindred spirit. She dedicated herself to Fageis, pledged herself and her love to the jealous god, she became his emissary and vowed to carry on his work.”

Emma heard Sil shift next to her. She opened her eyes to see him turned back to the fire, a skeptical frown making his face look even less attractive.

“Before the world had feared Raycole for what she could do, but now they feared what she did do.”

Sil rolled his eyes and stood up, leaving the fire. Lison reached after him, but was too slow, his arm caught only air and Sil vanished into a tent.

“When she found young lovers, she would reduce them to ash. When she found parents fawning over their newborns she would turn them to ice and smash them apart.”

Jori’s eyes were wide as she loomed near the fire. Then a huge bang erupted through the camp, Jori screamed and everyone started. Emma pushed back into Lison at the same moment he tried to push himself to his feet. Emma was knocked slightly off balance. She put her hand down in time to stop herself from toppling over.

The chaos only lasted a moment as everyone realized what had caused the bang. The fire, with the now heavily carved deer hanging above it, danced with shapes and images. A man and woman spun around each other until they met and embraced. Then a huge, looming figure approached them, crushing them down into the burning logs.

“Zariah, what are you doing? You could have given us some warning.” Deem shouted.

The crafter was smiling and staring at the flames, “I just thought I’d help tell the story.”

Jori was badly shaken. Parien stood to wrap an arm around her and calm her down, offering her more wine. Jori pushed it away and scowled at Zariah.

“You could have killed me!” The hair around her face was singed and her blonde eyebrows looked smaller than they had.

“Nonsense, I know what I’m doing,” Zariah said, not looking away from the fire.

The flames changed again and another man and woman appeared, this time they stood looking down at a crib. The looming figure entered again, casting some kind of wave at them. They scattered apart, the flames dividing and jittering away from each other.

Emma had seen Zariah put on many similar displays, but it had been a long time, and she’d forgotten how beautiful it was. She smiled and clapped.

“It is very nice Zariah, but you should have warned Jori,” she said, “though it does add something to the story.”

Lison settled back down and put his arm over Emma shoulder. He sucked in a deep breath, calming himself. Emma looked up to see him staring intently across the fire at Parien and Jori.

“Maybe we should end our night here,” Deem said, about ready to stand.

“No!” said the boy, “I want to know how it ends.  We haven’t even gotten to the dwin yet!”

“Kyil, it’s about time you went to sleep,” Deem said in a stern tone.

“No, please, I want to know how it ends,” he turned to Jori, “please, it was a nice story, finish it.”

Jori pulled away from Parien, her long face sour and sullen.

“It was a very nice story, Jori,” Emma said, “Please, tell us how it ends.”

Jori looked over the fire at Emma and Lison.

“Yes, Jori, finish, we all enjoyed listening to you.” Lison said.

Jori straightened her skirt and pushed her hair back over her shoulder. “I guess I could, but he has to promise to leave the fire along.”

Zariah was still staring into the flames, which were now changing from shape to shape, first and army of horses, then a huge sea creature diving in and out of waves.

“Please, Zariah, let Jori finish. You can show off your craft another night,” Emma looked at him, “You could do those whirlwinds. I used to love those.”

“I could do them right now.” He smiled at her, the flames starting to churn and twist, threatening to completely consume the deer.

“No, not tonight, please, I want to hear the end of the story.”

Lison squeezed Emma’s shoulder and leaned down, kissing her quickly on the ear.

The flames were normal again so quickly it was hard to believe they’d ever been more than a cook fire. People settled back in place, finishing their servings of meat, while Jori tried to remember her place in the story.

“Raycole was destroying love in the name of Fageis.” The boy, Keil supplied.

“Yes, right,” she took a deep breath, “She was the living will of Fagies, his emissary on earth, and she felt her love for her god was the only love in the world worth preserving.  All other love fell beneath her like wheat under a scythe.

“Her travels and her rage lead her across the face of the world until she found herself outside the city of Blue Coast. Here she heard of another love, the love the citizens of Blue Coast had for their city.”

Jori seemed returned to a good mood, taking a quick sip of wine before carrying on.

“They loved its high white walls; they loved its river and its sea. They loved their blue sand and all the people who lived with them.  It was a love unlike anything she’d seen. A love so big it changed the shape of the land as people built homes and roads to make their city bigger.”

Emma closed her eyes and saw a picture in her mind of Blue Coast. It was flat, like the picture in her book, the blue beaches little more than ink on a page. She tried to make it real, to give it dimension and shape, but her imagination failed her and she opened her eyes again.

“Raycole stopped then, by the side of the road, on the outskirts of Blue Coast, and prayed to her god. She called out to Fageis, vowing to rend the city to pieces in his name. She dedicated the destruction and the carnage to the jealous god.

“But she was not alone on that road, Jandal, the dwin, was traveling to Blue Coast that very day, and she overheard it all. She heard the horror Raycole planned for that great city and she heard why Raycole planned it.

“She approached the crafter, bowing in supplication,” Jori mimed a bow, “heaping praise onto the woman, seemingly in awe of her powers. Raycole balked at this, uncertain what to do. The dwin grew closer, praising not only Raycoles powers, but also her beauty and her grace. Raycole turned now to face the dwin, the city forgotten.

“Jandal moved ever closer, now telling the crafter that she’d searched all her life for such a woman, for someone so strong and yet so elegant, someone the dwin could truly love. In an instant Raycole embraced the dwin, pulling her close and kissing her deeply. The two women intertwined and fell to the ground, making love.”

There were hoots and whistles all around the fire, Jori smiled, threw her hair to the side, and carried on.

“Raycole had a mad feeling she’d never known, something that consumed her from the inside, that changed her very being.  It was love.  A love, she realized, that made her devotion to Fageis seem like nothing. This realization clawed at her mind, threatening to drive her mad. In one moment of passion she had betrayed her god. In her anguish she threw herself into the sea, leaving Jandal alone on the road.

“Blue Coast was saved by the kindness and love of one dwin.”

She bowed, and it took Emma a moment to realize the story was over. Emma was not alone, Jori stood, her back bent, her hair in front of her, for a long moment before scattered applause started.

When it did, she straightened and put her hand to her face covering a blush that looked like it was caused by wine more so than embarrassment.

“Thank you Jori, that was lovely,” Lison said, as he ran his fingers up and down Emma’s neck.

With the story done and their bellies full, everyone around the fire went their own way, some returning to their tents, others stretching out by the fire.

Lison stood and helped Emma to her feet. She took his hand and was thankful for it when her head started spinning. She realized she hadn’t eaten very much, but had drunk a good deal of wine.

Lison smiled at her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You look ready to turn in for the night. You’ve had quite an exciting day.”

“I have, haven’t I?” Emma laughed.

Lison led her across the camp to her tent. They stopped and he leaned down to kiss her on her forehead. She turned her head up to catch his lips with her own, but he pulled away to quickly, squeezing her shoulder.

“Good night little Lady, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turned to leave.

“Lison!” She called.

He spun back to her, his eyebrows pulled up in curiosity.

Emma wasn’t sure what to say. When she’d called his name all she wanted was to kiss him, but she couldn’t make herself say that out loud.

“Thank you for everything today.” She blurted out.

“Of course,” he smiled, “good night.”

“Good night,” she sighed.

She stood for a long time outside the tent, watching him walk away. His dark hair glowed orange in the firelight. She watched his long, slender shape move across the camp, stop to talk to a group of people, then fold into a tent and vanish.

Rilen appeared, smiling at Emma and pulling her into the tent. “Unless you plan to follow him, maybe we should tuck in for the night.”

“Should I follow him?” Emma asked, suddenly realizing she could.

Rilen looked almost as nervous as she did when Emma talked about racing horses, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Deem says,” Rilen trailed off, apparently choosing her words, “I think it’s better to take it slow.”

“Is that what you say, or what Deem says?”

“Both.”

“Oh alright. I’m too tired to go chase after a boy anyway.”

Emma felt the truth of her words as she pulled a blanket over herself. Her legs still ached and her head felt huge and stuffed with cotton. She didn’t even have a chance to say goodnight to Rilen before sleep pulled her into unconsciousness.  

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Continue to part 14