Fiction

Crunch… 

Crunch… 

Crunch… 

Crunch… 

Crunch… 

Crunch…

Each and every step Sparks Clearpath took ended with an icy crunch. Each and every movement forward through the calf-high snow that had blanketed Cagleton was its own little struggle. To pull a leg free. To keep herself and her bulky traveling gear steady and upright. To let her boot sink back down halfway into the snow. To make sure she didn’t end her step on an unseen rock or root that would cause her to twist an ankle or break a leg. And to repeat the whole process over again, with each and every step.

A particularly strong gust of wind buffeted Sparks and kicked up the snow around her as she turned a corner causing her to pause in the swirling breeze so she could re-secure her burnt orange cloak tight around her sturdy leather and fur outfit. She struggled a little against the wind before she managed to tug her hood back over her pointed ears and tuck her long, silvery-white hair back away from her face.

The scene around her was almost surreal. Cagleton was not a small town. Most any other day, a main road like this would boast its fair share of folks coming and going. There’d be sounds of horses and carts heading out of town or to nearby stables and barns. There’d be the friendly banter of travelers saying farewell one another and the loud murmur of vendors and buyers haggling over end-of-day prices. And, of course, there’d be the laughter and scuffle of children darting playfully through the foot traffic as they raced home for their suppers. Instead, with most everyone huddled inside away from the sudden bitter cold, an odd stillness had descended on the city, leaving Sparks feeling very much alone in a place she more often than not felt was just a little bit too crowded for its own good. 

It struck Sparks that she might never see this street so empty ever again, so, despite the wind and the cold, she stilled herself and took a moment to appreciate the uniqueness of it all. It was like being back home in some distant section of her familiar woods, except here, the trees had been replaced with buildings and lamp posts reaching up into the snowy sky. For a short moment all was calm and peaceful. But then, another gust of wind kicked up around her spurring Sparks back into reluctant action. She might have paused longer in the middle of the snow-covered road, but with the shadows stretching long around her and the sun dipping low in the gray, stormy sky, she really could not afford to stand still any longer… not unless she wished to risk the unpleasantness of frostbite. So, with a lurch and a heave, Sparks made sure her treasured longbow was still strapped securely across her back, then pulled her right foot free of the snow and ice and began trudging forward once more. 

Crunch… 

Crunch… 

Crunch… 

Crunch… 

Crunch… 

Traveling up one of the cobblestone streets of such a large trading town during the final days of autumn was not normally so difficult, but this year the icy storms that signaled the onset of winter had appeared far earlier than was typical. And that was… deeply inconvenient… for the tall elven maiden. No… it was not just inconvenient. Having to turn back when she’d just begun was frustrating. And infuriating. And heartbreaking. 

 Sparks’ plan had been to leave Cagleton near the beginning of winter after stocking up on a few last necessary supplies. Then, after nearly four weeks of continuous outdoor travel, was to pass south through the Ko’tooth Mountain Gap just before the first snows fell. The more temperate climate beyond would have allowed her to travel in relative ease throughout the long winter after which she would have turned back north to the cold riverside town of Tiu Nanaze. There, Sparks would finally have been able to fulfill one of her longest held dreams: To catch glimpse of the unruly, elemental sprites that danced among Tiu Nanaze’s melting ice floes as winter’s freeze came to an end. She had always marveled at the bedtime stories her mother had told her of her own journey. She’d last listened to those stories many, many decades ago, but Sparks had always promised herself that she, too, would make the journey someday when she was able. 

It had taken Sparks more than two years and no small amount of luck to prepare for the trip once the opportunity finally arose. It had been something of a minor miracle that she’d been able to end her autumn near Cagleton with coin to spare, supplies on hand, and with no pressing debts or duties to speak of. But, if this premature snowfall held—as it seemed it would— it was now highly doubtful that she would even make it out of Cagleton at all again this winter. And come spring, her responsibilities and commitments would return and it might be another decade, or perhaps several more decades, before she’d be able to consider such a journey to Tiu Nanaze again.

Sparks could have continued on, of course. She had lived practically her entire life outdoors in the large forest her parents still called home. Having experienced well over two hundred winters, the snow and the cold were as familiar to her as any other season. If she’d needed to, she could have drawn on her experiences and special talents and pushed her way through to Ko’tooth despite the early snow. If there had there been report of some emergency—an outbreak of sickness or rumors of raiders down south, for instance— she might have done just that. Risking her life for others was her calling. It was what she did. But putting her life at risk for her own delight and amusement? When she knew there were places and peoples who would need her come spring? No. She simply could not justify it. Though still considered somewhat young by her fellow elves, Sparks had learned well to bide her time and to know her limits. Especially when it came to going against nature’s will.

And so, only two days after striking out on the first leg of her long, exciting journey, she had turned back to Cagleton with a heavy heart. The push back into town had been slow and sorrowful, with few people to see or greet or talk to on her way in. Someday, she would try again. But right now? Right now, she was cold and tired, and still another good thirty minutes away from her resting point, with the day far too close to being done. So, of course, that’s when the storm decided to once again make its might known. 

Sparks braced herself against the icy gusts and gritted her teeth against the freezing cold as she crunched ever forward. In the dimming dusk light, she could barely see her hand held up in front of her face what with the heavy snowflakes filling the wind around her. But finally, up ahead, there was hope. At the very edge of her vision, she could just make out the flickering lanterns and large, golden lit windows of Pillory’s Pub, the same inn and tavern she had set out from two days before. Inside, she knew she would find warm food, friendly faces, and a place to sleep and plan her next move. It wasn’t the legendary enchanted ice flows of Tiu Nanaze, but it was something.

And for now? It would do.

A rush of warm air and a cacophony of familiar sights, smells, and sounds greeted Sparks Clearpath as she pushed her way past the heavy wooden doors of Pillory’s Pub. Glad to be out of the freezing storm, she stepped clear of the doorway and took a moment to loosen her scarf and knock the last of the ice and snow off the bottom of her boots. 

It was crowded inside, to say the least. Nearly all of the two dozen circular oak tables that filled the pub’s main floor were packed with travelers trying to carve out their few inches of space. Aside from a single small, empty table set furthest from the large roaring fireplace to her right, there was hardly a spare seat in the house. A handful of waiters and waitresses hurried here and there to bring patrons their food and refill their drinks. When Sparks had left two days ago, the pub had only been a third full at most. Now? The low murmur of conversations that usually filled the room had grown so loud she was sure she could shout and very few would even notice!

And that presented a problem.

Yes, the warm air and ample oil lamps on the walls and in the center of each table and absolutely mouthwatering aromas that wafted out from the kitchen made her wish she could stay, but with so many visitors, Sparks was certain all of the rooms upstairs had already been booked. She teetered shivering in the entryway for a moment, unsure of what she wished to do. A hot meal before she had to venture back out to find some other place to sleep would be welcome, but the longer she delayed, the harder it would be find a place with rooms to spare.

A pair of grumpy looking men forced Sparks to move aside as they pushed their way past her and back out into the storm. Sighing again at the inevitable, she tugged her scarf back up over her face and turned to follow them, but before she could take more than a step, a strong arm spun her round and pulled her back away from the door. 

“Oh, deary! You look half froze to death!” said one of the plump proprietors of Pillory Pub as she maneuvered Sparks further inside. “Come, let’s get you warmed up before you catch ill! Don’t you worry, there’s plenty of room by the fire and still seats left at our tables,” Mrs. Pillory said reassuringly. 

Though she stood a good two heads shorter than Sparks, the middle-aged, red-headed woman was certainly not lacking in strength as she had no trouble angling the elven maiden towards the fireplace set along the right hand wall. The Pillorys always kept a large fire going in the winter to comfort travelers coming in out of the cold. It was a house rule that you spent a few minutes getting warm and then made room for newcomers when your time was up. Sparks rarely followed that rule, however, but not for a lack of grace or kindness on her part. Rather, she’d had an all too close and painful encounter with fire once, long ago. And, where for most, it was a treat to bask in the thawing heat of the Pillory’s roaring fireplace, for Sparks, she’d… well, if forced to make the choice, she’d far prefer to step right back out into the winter storm.

“Not by the fireplace,” Sparks rasped, her voice still weak from the cold. She coughed to clear her throat then tried again. “Please, not by the fire,” she said more clearly this time as she began to feel the uncomfortable heat upon her face. 

“Hmm? Oh!? Oh, Sparks!” Mrs. Pillory said excitedly as she recognized just who she was dragging about. “I’m sorry, we’ve gotten so many tonight I did not even notice it was you! Why, I’d not expected to see you again for some while. That storm out must have been very bad to see you back here so soon!” 

Without a moment’s hesitation, the woman altered their course and lead Sparks back left past her pub’s many patrons all the way to the single, unoccupied table. 

“Here, you sit and give me that cloak of yours. Coat too,” Mrs. Pillory commanded as she pulled Sparks free from her frozen outer layers. “I’ll set these up by the fire to thaw and have one of my girls bring you something warm to drink. A cider would be all right?”

“Wait… I mean… yes, that will be… thank you,” Sparks replied, reluctant to be parted with her things, but also glad for the help. There were not many who could fluster her so, but Mrs. Pillory constant decisiveness and uncompromising kindness made her one such person. 

A short while later Rashel, the older of the Pillory’s two daughters, stopped by to place a tall, steaming mug on Sparks’ table. The dark haired girl was in her late teens now, and had grown beautiful in the few years since Sparks had last seen her. She was smart, too. One of the benefits of waiting on and chatting with so many patrons whilst growing up, Sparks imagined. She and Rashel had shared a wide ranging conversation about a good many topics before she had set out two days before. If nothing else, Sparks hoped they might pick back up that conversation.

“I’m sorry you did not make it far on your trip,” the girl sympathized. “I’ll be free later if you’d like to talk,” Rashel added before calls of ‘miss’ had her hurrying back across the room to tend to a pair of patrons. 

“I’d like… that.” Sparks said in reply, but Rashel was already gone. The mug full of warm cider she had left was still there, however, and it felt sooo good in Sparks’ cold hands. She lifted it to her lips and very nearly purred in relief as a trickle of the hot, cinnamon-tinged drink made its way past her chapped lips and down her parched throat where it pooled delightfully warming the pit of her stomach. 

Sip by sip, little by little, Sparks began to thaw. Over the next hour, she ordered a warm meal, finished off two more mugs of the Pillory’s delicious cider, and confirmed what she had already suspected: That there were no rooms left unrented at Pillory’s Pub. 

“I’d surely love to rent you a room. You know I would. For all you’ve done me and Higgs o’ver the years. But I had folk lining up a day before you even got back, and you know how that is,” Mrs. Pillory said sympathetically, when asked. Sparks nodded, glad for the woman’s commitment to her guests, but not so thrilled the result that commitment currently brought. 

As the evening wore on and the fire across the room dwindled, more and more of the pub’s patrons finished their meals, buttoned up their coats, and ventured back out into the cold stormy night. Sparks watched them leave and gave a little prayer for the safety of each even as she slowly prepared to depart as well. She was just about to go search for her coat, bow, and cloak when a man with dark curly hair and even darker robes pushed in through the pub’s front door… and all the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

***

Sparks did not recognize the dark-robed man who had just stepped in to Pillory’s Pub. He was not some friend or foe who she had cause to greet or avoid. And none of the dozen or so remaining patrons scattered about the tavern seemed to give him much attention. Maybe she was just tired? Maybe all of it… the cold, the storm, the disappointment, the fire… maybe it had all worked to make her… jumpy?  

Sparks had just about to shrugged off her premonition as nothing more than a false alarm when a sudden clatter to her right did cause her to jump. She turned from the dark-robed man to see Rashel kneeling in the kitchen doorway attempting to pick up a dropped tray. But the waitress wasn’t looking at what she was doing. Instead, she was focused solely on the newcomer, with her mouth hung open and her eyes wide with worry. Across the way, another of the Pillorys had noticed the man’s entrance. One of Rashel’s youngest siblings, eight year old Sopha, had approached the man and was in the process of leading him towards the fireplace as if nothing were the matter, but a quick glance back to Rashel told Sparks that something was very wrong indeed. 

The girl’s shocked expression turned to a grimace as she spotted her young sister interacting with the man. At first, Rashel looked back over her shoulder to the kitchen as if she were going to retreat back through the door to get help or maybe to hide,  but then she stood, took a moment to collect herself, and proceeded towards the man and her younger sibling with a pleasant smile forced upon her face. 

“I’ll tend to him, Sopha,” Rashel called from across the room, keeping her voice even and in control so not as to frighten her sister. “You go tell mother Don’ven is here.” Little Sopha, unaware of her sister’s worry,  was all too happy to do so. 

With her sister safely out of the room, Sparks half expected to see Rashel confront the man and demand that he leave. She had twice seen her do just that to patrons who, on the face of it, had seemed far more intimidating than this newcomer. But, surprisingly, Rashel did no such thing. Instead, she approached the man and performed her best curtsy before guiding him to an empty table near the fireplace. There, she spoke with him briefly then turned back toward the kitchen as if having taken some food or drink order from him. Sparks looked to Rashel as she passed by for some sign as to what was the matter, but the girl was too busy chewing worriedly on her bottom lip to pay much attention to anyone else. 

For the next few minutes, the man relaxed at his table and did little more than gaze at the lamp sitting in its center with a serene smile on his face. It was only now, after observing him as he sat across the room, that Sparks was slowly able to piece together why this man’s appearance had so completely and unexpectedly demanded her attention. 

For one, he was happy. Her own source of sourness was one thing, but even discounting herself, every single soul Sparks had seen since being forced back into town had been miserable in some way due to the sudden shift in weather.  Even the loudest and most energetic of the patrons from earlier had been busy complaining about the storm. But this man? He’d already had a happy smile even when he’d first entered in from the cold. And even now, that little, ever so slightly off-putting grin was still there. 

Then there were his dark robes. At first, from a distance, they appeared black, but upon further inspection Sparks determined them to be a very rich dark blue. And now that he was closer, Sparks could also detect fine shimmering patterns covering the man’s clothing. The artistry was… exquisite, but, worryingly, the shapes stitched from some sort of fine golden thread had an orderliness and complexity about them that Sparks had seen may times before. Anyone possessing experience with protective magic would recognize that the man’s robes were covered in spell equations of abjuration. The expense alone of such robes was more than enough to draw Sparks’ attention, no matter the person wearing them. 

Abjuration spells made sense, though, as the man seemed remarkably unaffected by the storm he had just come in from. His face was too rosy. His short combed hair too neat and too untossed by the heavy winds. And there was not so much as a single flake of snow to be seen anywhere upon his person. Even his gleaming black boots were perfectly clean of dirt or ice. It would take anyone else several minutes in front of the fire to recover so thoroughly from the storm, but this man look as if he’d walked in from the most perfect of spring days. Clearly, the man’s robes were permanently imbued with a spell that protected him from the elements? Did they do even more than that, Sparks wondered? 

What it all added up to was that the man was clearly a wizard or sorcerer of some amount of wealth and or power, and it was just as clear that Rashel, at least, had some reason to be worried by his arrival. Thoughts of finding a place to sleep now long forgotten, Sparks knew that she would not be able to leave Pillory’s Pub now that it was clear that friends of hers were possibly in danger. But, there was also little for her to do at the present time, so she took in and released a long slow breath to calm herself then began to nibble at what little bit of a roll she had left on her plate in hopes she might not stick out too much until she could find some better reason for remain. 

Soon, Rashel reemerged from the kitchen, though this time she was following close in behind her much shorter mother. Whatever trouble this man represented, it was surely quite serious as the usually jovial Mrs. Pillory now had that same worried look in her eyes and a forced smile on her face as her daughter had worn just a few minutes before. She moved quickly across the room towards the newcomer’s table with a full plate of meat, mashed potatoes, and bread in one hand, and a cloth napkin, silverware, and a large froth-topped mug in the other. 

“Miss, do you have more cider? And perhaps another roll if it is not yet too late?” Sparks asked as mother and daughter walked past her table. 

Mrs. Pillory nodded to her daughter who quickly made her way over. 

“What…?” Sparks whispered only to be cut off by Rashel’s hushed words. 

“Father owes him money,” she said quickly, before she hurried off back to the kitchen with Sparks’ mug. 

“…and we’re so glad you have returned.” Sparks managed to hear Mrs. Pillory saying as she delivered the man his food on the far side of the room. That was a lie, of course, but Mrs. Pillory at least told it well. 

Rashel returned a few moments later with more cider in hand. She was about to deliver it to Sparks’ table when the man spoke up. And asked for her by name. 

“Rashel, come, let me inspect you,” he said. His tone was friendly, but there was something just ever so slightly disturbing about the way he delivered his words. 

“Yes sir,” Rashel replied. She placed Sparks’ drink on her table  before turning to move swiftly over to the man. He did not hide his interest in her as she approached. In fact, he almost made a show of looking her body up and down. Then he made a little twirling motion with his hand and Rashel straightened her back and began to slowly turn in place with her arms held down by her sides. This sort of thing had happened multiple times before, Sparks judged, given how automatic Rashel’s reaction to the man’s small, circular gesture had been. Her mother took on a troubled, defensive posture as she was forced to watch this man look her eldest daughter over. Once again, it was clear to Sparks this man was not considered a friend. 

Sparks’ attention was drawn back to the kitchen door as it slammed open once again. Out came Mr. Pillory all in a huff. He was not exactly a tall man, but his every morning spent cutting wood and ever evening maning the stoves and managing the kitchen had made him into a man that very few were prepared to cross. And, unlike his wife and daughter, his angry scowl made it clear that he seemed to have no plans to placate this Don’ven… except, Sparks noticed,  he also carried a sizable purse of coin held tightly in one hand. 

When he reached Don’ven’s table, Mr. Pillory took one angry look at what was going on and quickly ordered his wife and daughter back to the kitchen. Only when there were both out of Don’ven’s sight did he unceremoniously drop the coin purse onto the newcomer’s table. The man  looked at it for a long moment. He then picked the coin purse up and seemed to weight it in his hand only to set it down and push it back towards Mr. Pillory with a shake of his head. 

Mr. Pillory said something Sparks could not make out. The man replied. And then the two began to argue openly over the contents of the purse causing the other patrons scattered here and there to look up and take notice. They were still a bit too far away for Sparks to make out more than a few words or phrases, but she didn’t need to hear the exact words to understand that things were not preceding well. And then, Don’ven suddenly stood. His chair scarcely had time to clatter to the floor before he all but shouted, “We had an agreement, and if you refuse to fulfill it then I shall burn this entire place to the ground!” 

Sparks could not help but cringe as the man’s threat sent a shudder through her. Mr. Pillory, too, seemed to finally deflate. Sparks was sure this Don’ven had won the argument, but then one of the hearty looking travelers seated nearby took to his feet as well. 

“Now, you listen here, sir. I do not know what…” he began, intending to help bring the argument to a more dignified end, but the man in dark robes did not even give him the chance to finish his sentence. Don’ven raised his hand and spoke a few quick unfamiliar words and sent the capable looking traveler flying back through the air with enough force to smash the sturdy table and chairs behind him. 

For a brief, uncomfortable moment, no one moved as the injured patron writhed on the ground. The sorcerer just stood and looked from person to person as that grin of his widened. Finally, a woman and what looked to be her husband stood and made their way towards the injured man, but the sorcerer glared at them.

“Leave. Him. Be.” He demanded, causing them both to shrink back. 

 By now, Sparks was standing too, her focus drawn to the injured man and flow of blood slowly pooling beneath his arms and back. If nothing was done for him, he might be dead in minutes. That was something Sparks would not allow, not if she could find some way to help it. 

Her first instinct was to retrieve her longbow from where it rested at her feet. The distance to the sorcerer was good, and if she had been in the woods, or even out in the open, engaging him might have been feasible. But inside the pub which this sorcerer had already threatened to burn to the ground? And with multiple bystanders around, some of whom were between her and her target? She might still win in a fight, but the cost would likely be much too high. Certainly, the one injured man would lose his life, and others in the room might as well.

That being the case, Sparks thought for a moment then nodded to herself as she settled on an alternate approach. She quickly threaded her way through the tables and patrons in front of her until she was almost close enough to help the injured man. A few more steps and she would be able to care for him, but, as she figured he would, the sorcerer took note of her before she got the chance. 

“Did you not hear me? I said leave him,” he called threateningly. 

“No,” Sparks replied firmly as she continued forward. 

The sorcerer’s eyes burned with anger as he turned to fully face her, but Sparks spoke again before he had the chance to do more anything more.

“What ever debt you are owed here, I will pay you double if you refrain from harming anyone else.” 

“You have the coin for that?” The sorcerer scoffed, clearly amused by her sudden offer. 

’Good, he’s talking,’ Sparks thought. 

“Try me,” Sparks countered aloud, as she knelt down by the injured man’s side. The would be hero’s eyes were clenched shut and his breathing was shaky and labored in a very bad way. 

“You expect me to believe you have five hundred gold coins?” The sorcerer demanded. 

“Ha! Five hundred? That’s far too much,” Sparks replied as if the dangerous man in front of her had just told a bad joke. As she did so, her experienced hands quickly felt along the dying man’s head, neck, and back. Midway down her fingertips found a nasty puncture wound where a large splinter from the smashed table had pierced the man right between his shoulder blades. 

“I decide what is too…” the sorcerer began again, but Sparks cut him short once more.

“That bag there has only what? Fifty gold? One hundred at most? And you tell me you are owed another five times as much?” Sparks asked incredulously as she jerked a dagger-sized piece of wood out of the wounded man’s back. With the wound as clear as she was likely to get it, she sealed her palm over the gaping hole and made use of the healer’s touch her mother had taught her so long ago. “If that were the case, this place would already be in flames.” She noted as she gave the sorcerer a disbelieving look. With any luck, her defiance would distract him long enough to not even notice what she’d really done.

The dying man opened his eyes and looked up at her in wonder as much of the sharp, debilitating pain coming from his back cooled then melted away. For just the briefest of moments, Sparks allowed herself to believe in her own cleverness. She’d done it. She’d crossed the room and distracted the sorcerer and successfully healed the man on the floor before her. But no. He noticed.

“What. Did. You. Just. Do?” The sorcerer demanded.

“Two hundred gold!” Sparks offered quickly as she backed away from her patient and held her now bloodied hands up in front of herself. “Pl…please sir, two hundred is all… it is all I can afford…” she said, intentionally stuttering a bit as she played up the twinge of very real fear she felt. 

“You have that much here with you?” He asked after a long, worrisome pause. 

“Y… Yes sir. With my bags at… at that table, sir,” Sparks answered. She was almost in the clear now. All she had to do was keep stroking the man’s ego to keep him from retaliating. More often than not, ones like him lived for that feeling of power they could get by holding their strength or their special talents or their influence over those they considered lesser than themselves. The maiming and killing usually only happened when the other party failed to properly play along. This man would be no different… Sparks hoped. 

“Go on and get it,” the sorcerer ordered, even as his cruel smile returned to his lips. 

Sparks nodded and made a show of fumbling her way back to her table. She kept in clear view as she retrieved first one, then a second, and finally a third coin purse from her pack. Each held a different amounts and types of coins according to what she had expected to need over the course of her now aborted journey. The smallest one held the type of currency favored by the soldiers who guarded the Ko’tooth Mountain Gap, while the largest, heaviest one only jingled so loudly because it was filled with many dozens of nearly worthless copper coins. Its sole purpose was to be given away as a seemingly lucrative prize in case some group attempted to rob her along the way. The middle-sized one was just regular spending money, but only a small amount of it to make it seem like she had nothing else left.

With all three bags in hand, and a fourth and fifth still safely concealed down in her pack, Sparks carefully circled around the far left side of the room as she returned to the sorcerer, in an effort to keep his attention away from the man she had just healed. The look the sorcerer wore was of someone in complete control. It was frightening and well practiced, so much so that Sparks had no trouble at all getting her hands to tremble as she handed over each of the three bags in turn. She was brave, yes, but not so brave to not feel a proper amount of trepidation at being so close to such a dangerous man. 

The sorcerer weighed each bag then set them down beside the large sum that had already been delivered to him by Mr. Pillory. He held Sparks’ gaze for another long moment, only for his features to soften as he broke into an mirthful smile and nodded for her to return to her table.

“Mr. Pillory,” he called with a bit of dramatic flare as he picked up his chair and sat back down to his meal, “I simply cannot believe you allow your fine establishment to remain in such an untidy condition. Kindly clean it up at once, and send that shapely daughter of yours back out here with another ale. Mine seems to have spilled in all the excitement.” 

“I will… see to it at once, Don’ven,” the pub’s owner replied as he began straightening chairs and righting tables. Sparks cautiously moved to help him. When they were done, they carefully lifted the wounded traveler and, together, carried him back towards the kitchen. The man tried to voice his thanks partway there, but Sparks quieted him with a stern look and a firm shake of her head. 

“Higs!” “Father!” “Daddy!” Came three worried shouts as she and Mr. Pillory pushed their way through the kitchen door and leaned the injured man against the low cabinets.

“Thank you, miss,” the injured traveler said as if it were the most important thing he had ever done. Looking up to Sparks and then over to the Pillory family he began to babble, saying, “I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have made more trouble for you… if I’d known…I just…” 

“It’s all right. What you did, standing up as you did, it was noble. Your actions speak well of you. But now you need to rest,” Sparks said to him. 

“He wants us to send Rashel back out, to bring him an ale he says, but I won’t do it,” Mr. Pillory was telling his wife at the same time. 

“Yes. You will,” Sparks interjected, causing all in the crowded kitchen to turn towards her. “You cannot risk angering that man again,” she explained. “Do as he asks as long as it is within reason and I will take my place back at my table and keep an eye on you all. Your daughter especially.” 

“Sparks… I cannot send my girl back out to be gawked at by that.. that villain.” Mrs. Pillory complained. 

“I know it is hard not knowing what he might do, but it is our best chance to get through this without further violence. I will go out with her and keep watch on her. I promise,” Sparks reassured Rashel’s mother. Then, turning to Mrs. Pillory’s daughter, she asked, “Rashel? I need you to be brave for me. To help me protect you and your family. Can you do that for us?”

The girl… no… the young woman pulled herself free of her mother’s embrace and nodded. “What would you have me do?” She asked, her voice full not of fear, but of resolve. Sparks gave a little sigh of relief. At least she had someone determined to see this through. 

“Bring the man his ale. I’ll follow you out after a moment and sit back where I was so I can watch over you. If he should do more than look at you I will have my bow and I will protect you.”

“I can do that…” Rashel said as she moved to fill a mug. Everyone in the kitchen stood still for a moment, awkward and agitated, until Rashel pulled the heavy stein back away from the tap. “Ok, I’m ready.” 

“Ok…” Sparks echoed her before taking in a deep breath. “This will work,” she assured the room… and herself. 

To Be Continued…

This was a very different sort of thing I tried on a whim late into the morning one night. I wanted to see if I could show the passage of time through conversation alone. I also wanted to have the characters speed entirely for themselves with no description of who was talking. Each brief conversation takes place on a different year that Sparks visited the Cunninghams, and the numbers show the ages of each speaker. With careful reading you should be able to confirm the identity of each speaker year to year. It was a fun experiment and I think it largely worked, even if it might be a bit harder for people to follow along.

20 | 15, 56 

“Welcome to Cunningham Glass Blowers. I am Travis Cunningham. Is there anything with which I could help you with?” 

“Mkali Moto Kipande Njia’yawzai… is my name. But you may call me Sparks Clearpath,”

19 | 16, 57 

“Welcome to Cunningham… oh, it’s you!” 

“Hello, Travis. Is your father around? We broke a pane and I need to talk to him about replacing it.”

18 | 17, 58 

“Miss Clearpath! Over here! It’s nice to see you once again!” 

“And you, Travis! I will make sure to stop on by your shop later to greet you and your father properly!”

17 | 59, 18 

“Good morning, Travis. It is a pleasure to meet you once again. And you have continued to grow! It seems you are taller every season and every year!” 

“And each year you remain the same. Still… beautiful.”

16 | 60, 41 

“Travis? … Travis? Mr. Cunningham? Are one of you here somewhere?” 

“Travis! We have customers! Damn that boy… I’m sorry, Miss Clearpath, my son seems to have forgotten his duties in favor of chasing after that Melinda…”

15 | 61, 20 

“Greetings once again, Travis. Or should I say Mr. Cunningham now. You look so much like a young version of your father now.” 

“No, I couldn’t have you call me that, Miss Clearpath. It would be like we did not know each other.” 

“Well, seeing that we do, I would think you should know me as ‘Sparks’ by now. 

“Indeed. It is nice to see you again, Sparks.”

14 | 21, 62 

“Back again so soon, Sparks?” 

“Yes, a boar damaged… oh my! What happened to your eye?!”
“This? A man was cat calling to Melinda and would not stop. 

“Oh? Oh! I should hope he looks even worse?” 

“No… not really. But Melinda kissed it afterward and it doesn’t really even hurt anymore!”

13 | 63, 44 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Cunningham. Is Travis off today?” 

“Ha. You could say that, Miss Clearpath. My son and his wife have gone to Dutos and will not be back for a week.” 

“Wife? Melinda?! That is terrific news! You will have to relay my regards to him and her when they return!”

12 | 20, 64, 1 

“Good morning, welcome to Cunningham Glass Blowers. Is there anything at all I can assist you with?” 

“Good morning. Are you by chance Melinda? 

“I am, and you must be the Miss Clearpath Travis has spoken so highly of.”

“Sparks, if you please. And who might this be?” 

“This is Tamantha. We call her Tam. Can you wave hi Tam?” 

“Gaaaa!”

11 | 2, 65, 24 

“Welcm to glass blows!” 

“Oh, good afternoon, Tam. My, look how big you have gotten. 

“Hasn’t she? It is nice to see you again, Sparks.” 

“And you, Travis. I can hardly believe it, how big your daughter has grown!” 

“Neither can I. And we have another coming!”

10 | 3, 25, 66 

“Daddy! Daddy!” 

“Oh… hello Sparks…” ‘

“Travis? What has happened? What is wrong?” 

“Melinda… and the baby… neither of them made it…” 

“Oh… Ohhhh Travis, I am so sorry… I hardly know what to say.”

9 | 4, 67 

“Spaaarrrrkks!” 

“Why hello, Tam! Where is your father? 

“He… he’s helping grandpa with the glass. (I can’t go back there by the fire…) 

“You can if you are with me. Here, take my hand.”

8 | 68 

Thank you for stopping by Cunningham Glass Blowers. I regret to inform you that due to my father’s illness our shop is currently closed. We hope to reopen soon but do not yet have a date in mind. — Travis Cunningham

7 | 6, 69, 28 

“Good morning! Welcome to Cunninghams Glass Blowers. I am Tam Cunningham. Is there anything with which I could help you?” 

“Hello, Tam. You know, your father used to say the exact same thing when I first met him!” 

“She does it better than I ever did. She puts all of her effort into it. It is good to see you, Sparks.” 

“I’m sure you did just as well when you were a child, Travis.” 

“No, I really didn’t. I was far too interested in playing outdoors while Tam, here, is very much the young shop owner.”

6 | 7, 70, 29 

“Hello Sparks… Grandpa is… gone now, but… We are still open!” 

“I’m very sorry to hear that, Tam. Are you all right?” 

“Yes. I get sad sometimes though.” 

“Sparks? Sparks, it is so good to see you…” 

“And you, Travis. Tam told me about your father. Is there anything I can do?” 

“We are ok, just a little sad. If you have time later, would you visit him with me?” 

“Of course, Travis. Of course I will.”

5 | 71, 8, 30 

“Hello, Tam! Hello, Travis!”

“Sparks!” 

“It’s good to see you again. You missed a season.” 

“I know. We were all so busy and I could not get free. I am still busy, but I could not come and not say hello.”

4 | 72, 31, 9 

“Hello, Travis. How have you been?” 

“Quite well. And yourself?” 

“Well, as well.” 

“Do you have it?” 

“I do. I think she will enjoy it.” 

“Oh, it’s beautiful. And I love the painting you did! Tam! Tam, come here! Sparks is here and she made something just for you!”

3 | 32 

It has been almost a year now since I have seen my good friend, the Elf Sparks Clearpath. Twice or three times she has been delayed or skipped a season entirely, but never has she not come for an entire year. I worry about her now as does Tam on occasion.

2 | 33 

Checking back to the year before, as I do, I am again saddened to note I still have not seen Sparks. In many ways, her continued absence is more troubling than Melinda’s or my fathers. Friends, family, and acquaintances come and go, live and die. But Sparks, more than any Elf I have known, seemed timeless. Perhaps because I so seldom saw her and yet she always remained so unchanged. Now, I have not seen her for two years and my heart aches almost the same way when I think of others I have lost.

1 | 34 

Somehow conversation turned to Sparks Clearpath today. One of the men from the 458 claimed to have seen her recently. Another claimed to have news that she had been arrested, tried, and hung for murder or theft in Dutos. I told the second one off quite angrily, Sparks would never do such a thing, and the first soon backed away from his story. It has been three years since I last saw my Elven friend. Even Tam rarely mentions her now.

0 | 13, 76, 35 

“Hello, welcome to… Sparks? Sparks!!! 

“Hello… Tam…” 

“Father! Father! It’s Sparks! Father! Sparks is here!” 

“Sparks?! … Sparks, it’s so good to see you again. You look… Sparks? What happened to you? Where have you been and what has happened to you?” 

“Travis. I… I need your help.”

Mkali Moto Kipande Njia’yawazi awoke to the unsettling feeling of her entire home shaking around her!

Still suspended somewhere between her dreams and full wakefulness, the young elven woman opened her eyes in alarm at… at what?! The only sources of sound or movement were the roaring flames and the dancing shadows that they cast from the fireplace before her. 

“Maybe it had been nothing?’ she thought. But then the loud rumbling returned and the tall glass windows in the foyer to her right began rattling in their frames!

Mkali Moto Kipande attempted to sit up from against the foot of her family’s living room sofa only to find she could hardly move. She was pinned, not by fear or injury, but by her younger sister who had snuggled halfway on top of her in order to share the soft, warm blanket she’d wrapped herself in earlier that evening. The rumbling around the two of them intensified further until it felt as if the house might shake itself apart. Mkali Moto Kipande gripped the edge of the blanket tightly with one hand and braced for something bad to happen… only for the rumbling to quickly echo off into the distance leaving a still silence in its wake.

‘It was only thunder,’ Mkali Moto Kipande realized, laughing gently at herself, only to flinch an instant later as a distant bolt of lightening appeared far past the kitchen windows to her left.

The bright, enigmatic display of power forked down from the dark night sky to the forest treetops below and lit the rooms around Mkali Moto Kipande in a harsh blue glow as the bolt lingered, strobing in place for a moment, before it winked out just as quickly as it had appeared. A new wave of thunder rolled in just in time for the next flash of lighting to streak into existence. Over the next few minutes the distant flashes moved ever closer and the waves of thunder came ever sooner. Before long, the lightening and thunder was joined by a heavy rain.

The storm which had been lingering out past the overcast horizon for the past couple of days was finally rolling in. But aside from her brief, post slumber startle, Mkali Moto Kipande wasn’t worried. She’d seen her way through harsh weather many times before. Warm and content in front of the nearby fire, with her sister sleeping sweetly against her side, Mkali Moto Kipande leaned back against the sofa and watched in wonder as the storm intensified. Soon, the sky remained lit more often than it was allowed to grow dark, and loud, sharp, immediate cracks of thunder took the place of the comparatively gentle rumbles she’d felt earlier. The heavy rain hammered the roof and pelted the windows while gusts of wind whistled through the forest outside and buffeted the walls of sturdy home Mkali Moto Kipande had watched her parents build two decades before, back when she herself had been well and truly young.

“Wha..?” Mkali Moto Kipande’s sister asked drowsily a few minutes later as a particularly loud crash of thunder shook the house and finally woke her from her post supper slumber. She raised her head from the comfortable spot it had found resting on her older sister’s stomach only to quickly bury it again as a nearby bolt of lightening flashed before her wide, frightened eyes.

“It’s all right, Inapita Sasa. It’s just the storm we knew was coming,” Mkali Moto Kipande answered as she stroked her fingers soothingly though her sister’s shorter walnut colored hair. “Sshhhh, it’s ok,” Mkali Moto Kipande repeated as more thunder had her sister grabbing hold of her waist and whimpering quietly into her shirt. 

Inapita Sasa was some twenty-six years of age now and had already started her long journey chasing her older sister towards adulthood. She too had certainly been through similarly powerful storms before, but at times like this Mkali Moto Kipande could not blame her for reacting like the child she still by and large resembled.

The storm raged around the Njia’yawazi sisters for well over an hour before the heavy rain and strong gusting winds began to die down. Mkali Moto Kipande moved to get into a more comfortable position, but there still wasn’t much she could do with her sister draped over her. They’d been in the same spot since they had concluded their celebratory family dinner some three or four hours before, and the lack of movement had begun to take its toll on Mkali Moto Kipande’s neck, legs and back. Inapita Sasa had even fallen asleep once more despite the waining storm. She looked so peaceful that Mkali Moto Kipande delayed waking her for a time but eventually she simply had to move.

“Sit up, Sasa. You’re hurting me,” Mkali Moto Kipande whispered to her sister as she gently rocked her awake. 

Her sister groaned and almost went to asleep again, but reluctantly rolled fully onto the floor… after playful shifting more of her weight onto her older sister first, of course. Apparently unsatisfied with her new position, Inapita Sasa sat up so her back rested against the sofa, just as her older sister’s did. A few moments later she leaned over so that her soft cheek and heavy head found their way to her big sister’s warm shoulder. This new position would not remain comfortable for long, either, Mkali Moto Kipande knew, but she could not help but smile at the tenderness of the moment.

‘…me and my sister, quiet and warm and cozy in front of the fire…’

“The storm is ending, it is time for bed you two,” Mkali Moto Kipande heard her mother’s soft voice say from somewhere off to her left a short time later. She looked around, but did not spot anyone until she noticed her mother’s beautiful long white hair move past the dining room window.

‘How long had she been watching us and the storm? All along?’ Mkali Moto Kipande wondered with a small smile.

“Time for bed,” her mother said again as she gently separated her younger daughter from her older one’s side. 

Thankful for the help, Mkali Moto Kipande extracted herself from the tangled blanket and stretched long and tall before moving over to the fireplace’s hearth. The fire was still roaring with life even though she had built it four or maybe five hours ago. In truth, she’d probably built it too big in response to a long, hard day’s work helping her father out in the cold, but it felt great in contrast to the chilly air that had greeted her as soon as she’d pulled free of her blanket. Mkali Moto Kipande held her hand and arm out near the fire for a long moment, basking in its heat, before drawing back as the heat began to sting her finger tips. She drew her hand away then moved back to the edge of the hearth where the temperature was a bit more reasonable.

“I want to sleep down here tonight,” Inapita Sasa complained over by the sofa as her mother worked ineffectively to get her to stand. Mkali Moto Kipande could not help but laugh.

“There might be more storms to come, Sasa,” Mkali Moto Kipande chimed in, but her sister held tight to the covers that were now wrapped around her body and refused to move.

“All right,” their mother said, relenting. “But I do not want you too close to that fire,” she said to her younger daughter while giving her older one a decidedly incredulous look.

“…I’ll clean it up first thing in the morning,” Mkali Moto Kipande confirmed, before quickly looking away from her mother’s disapproving gaze. She rose and pulled the heavy, cast iron screen in front of the fireplace then tried to angle past her mother but was unable to resist being pulled into a loving hug.

“You did good today. I know you would have rather been off hunting or exploring these last weeks, but your father was very grateful for your help,” her mother whispered lovingly into her ear. 

Mkali Moto Kipande returned her mother’s embrace then pulled away and continued on to the straight staircase built into living room’s back wall. She quietly scaled the twelve steps that led to the short hallway that, along with her room on one side and her sister’s on the other, made up the entirety of their house’s second floor.

A long rumble of rolling thunder to the southwest drew her tired eyes to her small window once she’d climbed the stairs and entered her room. The streaks of lightening that flashed far in the distance seemed to confirm her prediction of the approach of a second wave of storms, but by now Mkali Moto Kipande’s fatigue of a hard day’s work had caught back up with her and she was too tired to give the idea much care. She climbed into her cool, welcoming bed and within minutes found her dreams once more.

***

Mkali Moto Kipande drifted back awake some minutes or hours later to a strange, pungent smell. At first, she thought maybe an animal had died somewhere nearby. A bird that had found its way inside, maybe? But there was something more to it, something… sweeter… that nagged at her in the darkness of her room. Wood? Was somebody cooking downstairs? In the middle of the night?

The odor itself was odd enough, but even stranger were the solitary little specks of hot, irritating dust that kept finding their way into her mouth and nose with every few breaths she took. She tried to ignore it all, at first, but soon found that she could not. Every time she would near sleep she would be jolted back to wakefulness! Fed up, Mkali Moto Kipande sat upright in her bed, thoroughly perplexed by the strangely warm air she tasted around her. It was still dark outside, and still raining, but the lightening and thunder had passed on by… Or so she thought until a muffled crash shook her room!

“That was not thunder!” she told herself, now fully awake.

Whatever it had been had sounded more like a tall tree crashing to the ground. Or maybe it had felt like one hitting the house? Still more curious than worried, Mkali Moto Kipande slipped out of her bed oddly thankful she had not taken the time to change out of her sturdy work clothes. She took a few moments to properly lace her ragged shoes then opened the door to her bedroom and… nearly choked on the hot, foul air that rushed in past her. Her eyes went wide as the smell that had been so hard to place hit her full force. The air was hot and thick and smelt of wood and ash and smoke and… FIRE?!

‘The house is on fire!’ Mkali Moto Kipande realized as she slipped into a panic.

For a brief moment, all she could do was recall the tragic scene of the burnt out home she had seen years before, during one of her family’s trading trips to the nearby city of Dutos. The townspeople had told of how the bucket brigade had formed in time to prevent the fire from spreading. Of how they might have very well saved that section of the city. But how the family trapped inside, a husband and wife and their children, had, tragically, not survived. The thought that her family might soon suffer the same fate pulled Mkali Moto Kipande back to the present and pushed her out into the hallway that separated her room from her sister’s.

“Wake up Sasa!” Mkali Moto Kipande called out as she reached for her sister’s door.

Not waiting for a response, she began to turn the handle. That it was hot to the touch did not register in her mind until well after she had begun to push the door inwards, but by then it was too late. A swell of smoke and fire swirled then surged out into the hallway with enough force to slam the door shut even as it knocked Mkali Moto Kipande backward into her own door frame. It was all she could do to remain standing after the harsh, unexpected impact.

Mkali Moto Kipande could hardly see, her eyes were watering so badly, but the realization that her sister was trapped with those flames pushed her forward once more. She sank low and braced herself this time before attempting to push the door open. Fire and smoke again briefly rushed out into the hallway, but Mkali Moto Kipande pushed through it only to have her heart broken when she opened her eyes.

“Inapita Sasa!” Mkali Moto Kipande half screamed, half sobbed, not willing to believe the scene in front of her.

Before her, her sister’s room was fully ablaze and had been for multiple minutes. The wood paneled walls were all but consumed, her sister’s oak desk and dresser had both already collapsed and been torn apart by the flames, and worst of all, there was smoke pouring up through a large hole to the left of her sister’s burning bed. Mkali Moto Kipande wanted to believe she was trapped in a nightmare, but rationally she knew that her here and now was all too real. But… there was no body! Mkali Moto Kipande checked a second time. Her sister’s room was all but destroyed, but her sister was not in it…

‘She had wanted to sleep downstairs!’ Mkali Moto Kipande remembered. ‘Please have let her slept downstairs…’ she pleaded before pulling back out of the doomed room. 

She turned to the nearby stairway but could not seem to take the necessary steps forward. She had been so worried about her sister she had somehow missed the column of smoke and glowing embers that rolled up the slanted ceiling above the stairwell. The thick black clouds billowed up towards her before spilling out onto the wider hallway ceiling overhead. Mkali Moto Kipande clenched her fist and summoned her courage then forced herself to move to the top of the stairs only to cover her mouth at the sight she saw.

The stairwell that had been her way down to a new, promising day each morning and her way up to the comfort of a good night’s rest each evening now looked more like a passage descending down into hell itself! Many of the stairs had been been blackened by soot or ash while a dozen small streams of smoke were pouring out from cracks up and down the supporting wall to her left. Worse, the floor below that should have been too dark to easily make out was disturbingly visible, lit orange-red by the constantly shifting light of unseen fire somewhere below.

Mkali Moto Kipande hesitated. The staircase was her only way to safety, she knew that, but already she could feel the heat carried upward by the smoke. How much worse would it be down at ground level among the flames themselves? Another loud crash shook the floor beneath her feet and the entire house seemed to try to lurch out from under her. The thought that the house might come down around her spurred Mkali Moto Kipande back into action.

“All I have to do is make it outside. I’ll be fine no matter what happens as long as I make it outside…” she told herself before she took one last clear breath and started her descent.

She moved quickly, surefooted even amongst the heat and smoke, but Mkali Moto Kipande knew she was in trouble from her very first step. What had always been a solid, sturdy staircase creaked and shifted as soon as she put her weight onto it. The wall to her left groaned under the added stress and the smoke that had been streaming from multiple points was quickly joined by small licks of fire as what unburned material remained within the damaged wall caught fire.

Mkali Moto Kipande grabbed hold of the railing to her right, sure the stair beneath her feet was about to break way, but instead the entire staircase tore free of the gutted wall with a long sickening crack. It leaned for a moment then fell sideways and smashed apart on the hard floor below. Mkali Moto Kipande hit the ground hard then screamed in silent agony as a large section of the staircase crushed her right ankle. She could actually hear the meaty snap as her bones broke!

For the first few moments Mkali Moto Kipande was unable to think, she was in so much pain. But the pain in her leg quickly gave way to the stinging heat she felt on her face, arms and legs. Forcing her eyes open, all she could see were the flames that surrounded her with only glimpses of the fireplace where she’d built her large fire visible between them. Horrifyingly, the thick metal screen, with its curving, flowery patterns, was not where she had placed it. Instead, it had fallen… no… it had been pushed outwards and off the brick hearth. And there on the scorched floor, past the screen, was what could only have been the charred ash of spent firewood.

‘Am I responsible for this? Did I destroy my home and kill my family?!’ Mkali Moto Kipande asked herself as the heat from the nearby fires began to scald her face.

She coughed and choked on the fumes and screamed at the pain and pulled her legs up to her chest as instinct forced her to curl into a ball in one last, ineffective attempt to protect herself from the burning heat.

‘It hurts! It hurts it hurt it hurts it hurts!’ Mkali Moto Kipande cried out in her own mind until the pain became so overwhelming that even her thoughts were pushed aside. Her only instinctual hope now was that the pain would come to an end… and then it did… though not in the way she expected.

The intense heat that had been smothering her lungs and eating at her skin and bones vanished in an instant. A moment later, a familiar surge of energy passed through her body and the pain from both her grievous burns and her smashed leg was simply gone! Somewhere, deep within her overwhelmed mind, a memory surfaced of how it had felt to jump into a cool lake on a hot summer day.

For a long instant, Mkali Moto Kipande relived that jump from the tall grassy hill down to the swimming hole below. She squinted into the blinding sun, and felt the hot grass crunch beneath her bare feet as she ran. Her mind latched on to the warm whistling air that blew her long white hair back away from her face as she jumped and fell towards the water below. She clung to the memory of the sudden forceful upward jolt of the water as it broke her fall and enveloped her within its shockingly cool weight. Mkali Moto Kipande hung there for a long moment within the cool waters of her memories then went to open her eyes expecting the see the muted browns and greens typical of the murky lake, only to find herself back in the hell that was the burnt remnants of her house with… with her mother’s burned and bloody face unmoving inches above her own!

Initially, Mkali Moto Kipande tried to recoil away, but there was no where to go. She was pinned on her back, forced to stare helplessly past her mother’s face at the rain clouds beyond through the charred debris that had come down on her mother and herself. She could hardly draw in a breath much less move with all the weight pressing down on her, though she tried and struggled anyway, of course. Finally able to wrench one arm free, she brazenly pressed her hand to still smolderingly hot sections of wall and ceiling and pushed with all her might, but she felt no give. But neither did she feel any heat or pain. How could that be? 

Lightheaded and confused, Mkali Moto Kipande did the only remaining thing she could. She embraced her mother and began to cry. It was only then that she felt the shallow movement of her mother’s chest. Her mother was still breathing!? She was alive!? Mkali Moto Kipande’ joy was short lived, however, as she again began to cough on the fumes still rising up around her. Soon, she found it difficult to keep her eyes open. It felt as if the world were spinning around her even though she couldn’t move. For a long minute she fought against the terrifying darkness that slowed her mind and dulled her senses as it welled up around her, but soon her world again faded dimming and narrowing until everything went to black.

***

There were strange moments and sensations before Mkali Moto Kipande woke again. Half remembered dreams of bleary vision and muffled sound. Of being pulled from her hell. Of looking back at what little remained of her home as she was carried away. Of her father and sister hovering worriedly over her. Of having cool water flowing over her parched lips and down her aching throat. None of it seemed real. And all of it did…

***

The first thing Mkali Moto Kipande felt when she finally awoke was radiating heat. The first thing she smelt was smoke. The first thing she heard were soft snaps and pops. The first thing she tasted was burnt wood. The first thing she saw was FIRE.

Without even thinking, Mkali Moto Kipande flinched away from the flames leaving behind the old, patchwork blanket she’d been covered in. She could hear someone calling her name behind her but it didn’t matter. She had to get away from the fire!

Wet, rain soaked ground squished beneath her feet as she tripped and stumbled her way blindly forward only to fall to her hands and knees as she came to the edge of what had been her family’s home. All that remained was ash and glowing embers and a single tall pane of glass that somehow did not shatter as the house had come down.

A smaller hand gripped hers then her sister swung around to stand between her and the devastation. Inapita Sasa was dressed in one of their father’s old set of work clothes, like she herself was, Mkali Moto Kipande realized.

Her sister was hurt and limping, Mkali Moto Kipande saw. Even in the early morning light she could tell her sister’s face and arms were red with blisters and burns, but she was alive! They both were alive! In unison, they embraced each other, both trying and failing to hold back their combined tears of joy and sorrow.

“Are you all right?” Mkali Moto Kipande asked after a minute.

Her sister stepped back and took a deep breath before answering. “I used all my healing on mother…” she managed to say before her lower lip began to quiver and her brave facade fell away once again. 

Mkali Moto Kipande pulled her sister into an equally tight, but oddly different, hug. Before, they had been equals who had survived a tragedy. Now, she was the older sister again, and it was her job to stay strong and fearless.

“It’s not your fault. You did everything you could,” Mkali Moto Kipande said, even though she had not been there to see it.

“I’ll try more when I can tomorrow. I… I just don’t know if I can do any else.”

“But you saved her?” Mkali Moto Kipande asked. She felt her sister nod into her shoulder. “Then you did enough.”

“Inapita Sasa? Mkali Moto Kipande?” their father called to them from somewhere behind. 

Mkali Moto Kipande rose to her feet and turned to see her father emerging from the small animal pin and storage shelter she had helped him build over the last month. It was the accomplishment they had been celebrating at dinner the night before. And though it was a fraction of the size their home had been… it was their home now, wasn’t it? She slowly stood then led her sister trudging up the gentle slope to the shelter where their father embraced each of them in turn.

“I thought I’d lost you, my daughter!” he said to his older child as he gripped her tightly.

“I thought you had too, sir,” Mkali Moto Kipande replied. “Where is mother?” she asked after pulling back.

“Around the corner,” her father answered, indicating the only truly enclosed room in the small barn. “She is very badly hurt and cannot yet speak, but she will know you are there. Just let her know you are all right then let her rest, ok?”

Mkali Moto Kipande nodded, her throat suddenly going dry. Trembling, she left her father and stepped through the doorway. There, under a sheet, on top of an old dirty mattress, lay her mother, her crippled form easily the most shocking aftermath of the fire.

Just hours before, U’tulivu Nyeupe-nywele Malaika Njia’yawazi had been elegant and beautiful. What Mkali Moto Kipande had hoped to be in another fifty or one hundred years. She had been thoughtful and knowledgeable. Qualities Mkali Moto Kipande knew she herself was still working on. And she had been spiritual and magical. Two things Mkali Moto Kipande had long struggled to mimic with hardly any success. But now, her mother might not be any of those things ever again, Mkali Moto Kipande realized. 

The woman lying before her was burned and broken. Her face and skin were disfigured from the heat of the fire. Much of her long, glowingly white hair had been burned away and what few patches and strands remained only served to deepen the impact of her injuries. Even the way she lay at an odd uncomfortable angle, mostly hidden beneath the sheet, spoke to how severely she had been affected by the fire and the collapse of the house around her.

Mkali Moto Kipande stood frozen for a long while with a heartbroken expression on her face. She was too shocked to really cry but somehow could not turn away. Finally, when she could bear the sight of her injured mother no longer, she made to leave, but just then her mother turned her head and spotted her. Though obviously in a great deal of pain, her mother pushed the sheet partly aside and shakily raised one badly blistered hand up towards her daughter. Gasping in sorrow, Mkali Moto Kipande stepped forward and knelt down so as to allow her mother’s rough hand to stroke her flawless skin and hair and face…

It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t even close to fair what had happened! Mkali Moto Kipande wanted so badly to reach out and return her mother’s love, but at the same time she was far too afraid that her simple touch would cause her mother more pain. Instead, she sat down nearby, and rocked herself as she cried tears of guilt that seemed to burn her face nearly as badly as the fires had. That her mother was crying alongside her made it all the more worse. Slowly though, Mkali Moto Kipande’s sorrow turned to anger and determination.

“I owe you everything, mother. I… I caused this, so I promise you, I will find a way to fix this.”

***

After three long, hard years of helping to support her family, of helping them to rebuild and survive, Mkali Moto Kipande walked through the familiar gates of Sharlstown with a plan. Though it might take two decades, she would restore life and vitality to her hobbled sister and to their mother who had nearly sacrificed everything to save them both. 

Things didn’t exactly go as she had planned… but that is another story for another time.

Sparks Clearpath continued along the unfamiliar forest trail before her, not at all sure of where she was being lead this clear, chilly morning. Dressed in her soft, warm hunting gear with little more than a bow and a handful of arrows in a quiver across her back, she had, two hours ago, realized she was being hurried along off her usual paths to parts of her forest she did not know. Ordinarily, she might have preferred a slower pace, but that wasn’t an option, not with the Dymestl-aeron siblings encouraging her ever onward.

Somehow, her four Gnomish friends seemed to have no lack of energy, darting in and out of the foliage around her, even though they were half her height and very nearly had to remain on the run for their short legs to keep up with her brisk walk. They were laughing and fighting and playing little games that Sparks was sure she’d never fully understand, even having observed them for the better part of two decades.

At a little over fifty years of age, Sparks was a good ten years older than Tân, the oldest of the Dymestl-aerons, though one could hardly tell, what with the differences in the two races heights and manners of aging. It was the most unapparent of facts that the four Gnomish brothers and sisters were all nearly considered adults while Sparks herself was only a few short years into her long transition to maturity.

“How much farther?” Sparks asked in elvish, addressing the four gnomes scurrying around her. Even she was beginning to tire despite being as fit and at home among the trees of the forest as any of them.

<“Somewhat!”> the white haired Gwynt answered with unhelpful cheer in Gnomish as she, and her long, hair breezed by.
<“It’s too late to turn back now…”> Blue eyed Dŵr gushed.
<“You promised you’d help!”> Tân said, almost accusingly, so quick to anger, as he always was.
“Why do you ask?” Galon asked sincerely in return, the only one of the four to reply in elvish, even though they had all learned to speak it years ago.

“We’re getting pretty far out…” Sparks answered. <“And I will help, Tân, but I told my parents I would be back by nightfall.”>

<“They will understand you had to keep moving forward,”> Dŵr insisted.
“Will they?” Galon inquired of his sister, his tone ever kind. ”I would think they would worry, they lov…”

<“It doesn’t matter now, ’cause we’re here!”> Gwynt interrupted.

Here, it turned out, was a curious clearing that seemed to have no place so deep in the woods. There was no stream or river or solid, growth-impeding rock jutting out of the soil. It was only as she passed out of the tree line and into the bright sunlight that Sparks got her first hint as to the cause of the clearing. A dozen steps closer and she had her answer for sure. Though it was still a good twenty feet in front of her, she could now make out the rounded rocky lip of what had to be a large depression or some sort of sink hole. Slowing her movements to careful, creeping steps, Sparks edged closer, eager to know more.

“Whoa…” she exclaimed as she reached the edge. What lay before her was no depression or minor sinkhole! No, somehow the Dymestl-aerons had found a huge, ten foot wide shaft of a cave that dropped almost one hundred feet straight down. Along the way down were a multitude of outcroppings, divots, and patches of lose rock covered in moss or vines, but beyond a very good grip and a whole lot of rope, there was seemingly no safe way to descend… which is why Sparks was entirely unsurprised when she turned around to find her four smiling companions holding one of the longest lengths of sturdy rope she’d ever seen.

“No.” Sparks told them at once. “Very much no… and where… how did you keep that rope hidden all this time?”

<“Magic?”> Gwynt asked, as if she too were unaware of the true answer. Her brothers and sister all nodded in unison, each of their smiles flashing even larger than before.

“Fine, keep you secrets…” Sparks said, knowing she had no choice but to relent, at least on that point, “but there is still no way I’m going down there. Even with the rope. One false move and I’d be killed!”

“But look!” Dŵr replied, moving over to the cave’s mouth. “Can you see it? At the very bottom?!”

“See what?” Sparks asked. She walked around the circular opening until the sun was at her back. She shielded her eyes from the still bright, cloudless sky, but even then the deep shadows that covered the lowest parts of the cave made discerning much of anything impossible. Except… Sparks squinted harder and angled her head and… yes, there was something there. Something… “Glowing?” she asked.

“It’s glowing fungus!” Galon explained.

<“It is a pool of moldy water.”> <“No! It is a firebug,”> <“A mirror!”> the other three Gnomes disagreed all at the same time.

“So none of you know what it is but want me to risk going to find out?” Sparks asked once their explanations ceased.

The four Gnomes looked to each other for a moment, then, again in unison, nodded and begged in their best Elven, saying: “Please? We just have to know!”

Sparks sighed. She turned back to the cave and began tracing a route from crag to outcropping to handhold. It looked…doable, and her friends had helped her with more and required far less… It was only fair that she try.

<“Okay, I’ll do it,”> she answered her friends in Gnomish, causing a small cheer to pass between them. “I want this tied around me double tight,” she indicated as the four Gnomes jumped into action. Tân and Galon helped her with the rope while Gwynt and Dŵr scouted around for the best place for their Elven friend to begin her descent.

<“There’s a smooth patch of ground over here for the rope to slide over!”> Dŵr called out a few moments later.

When everyone was ready, and her four small friends had taken their positions in a line holding the rope, Sparks carefully lowered herself over the edge and began her long climb down. It was a slow, tricky process, dealing with unyielding rock, crumbling dirt, and thin unhelpful plants. She’d spend minutes just testing her weight on the next ledge or next set of roots before proceeding. Halfway down she passed into shadow but fortunately the sky above was bright enough to continue to light her way after her eyes had a minute to adjust. She slipped twice, but each time only dropped a few inches as the uncharacteristically quiet Dymestl-aerons did their jobs holding the rope. After nearly an hour of slow, tense work, Sparks was finally a few feet from the bottom.

“Let go, give me slack!” she called up. A second later she felt the tension on her safety rope fall away and was free to hop down to the cave floor. “I made it!” she called.

Above her, four small heads poked out over the edge of the drop off, each casting a comically large shadow on the sunlit section of the cave wall far above.

<“Well? What is it?”> Tân’s voice echoed down in impatient irritation.

<“Fungus?”>
<“Water?”>
<“A mirror?”>
<“A fire bug??”>

“No, none of those…” Sparks called back as she stooped down to inspect the glowing object before her. “It’s… like a torch, alight… but not on fire…It seems about done for…” She smiled at the distant, excited chatter that filtered down from the Gnomes back up at the surface.

Taking a moment to really examine the dimly glowing torch, Sparks put it in her quiver along with her arrows then began her climb back up. In truth, she should have taken some time to rest, but the Dymestl-aerons’ joy was so infectious that she’d forgotten just how much her arms and legs had been aching just a few minutes before.

Some twenty feet up, Sparks stretched to reach the next obvious handhold, only to find her other fatigued hand unable to keep its grip. For a long, desperate moment, Sparks felt her fingers slipping and slipping and slipping free, and then she was falling. One of the Dymestl-aerons must have remember their job though, because a moment later the rope went tight, causing her head and body to slam painfully into the cave wall. Dizzy, and in pain, Sparks felt herself being lowered back onto the cave floor. She shifted to lay on her back and when she clutched at her forehead her hand came away wet with blood!

Sparks stared up at the circle of light coming down from the mouth of the cave, but she could hardly seem to do any more than that. Distantly, she was sure she could hear the cries of her friends, but answering them… it seemed… but she couldn’t… to get her thoughts… line up properly…

Then, far above, she saw a small shape, complete with hands, feet, and long blowing hair, jump out over the mouth of the cave. For a long moment, Sparks watched the in terror as Gwynt fell down the center of the shaft. The gnome fell closer and closer until Sparks had to force herself to look away, only to have a sudden gust of wind kick up along the cave floor. Sparks shielded her eyes from the dust thrown up by the sudden gust and a moment later… there Gwynt was, kneeling by her side.

“Sparks? We’re so sorry! Are you ok?”

“No… Not really,” Sparks answered. “How..?”

“Magic.” Gwynt replied with a shrug, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. “Can you hang on to the rope? We are going to pull you up.”

Sparks nodded and, placing one hand above the other, weakly gripped the long length of rope that stretching upward before her.

<“Ok! Pull!”> Gwynt called up to her brothers and sister.

Inch by inch, Sparks felt herself being lifted out of the cave, even as Gwynt remained on the floor below. Sparks helped where she could, stretching out a hand or foot to push herself out away from the cave wall when it was necessary. At the cave’s mouth several pairs of small hands helped pull her back up over the edge, and then…

…she must have walked back home along with the Dymestl-aerons, but Sparks could remember very little of the return trip. It was almost as if one minute she was being helped back into the noonday sunlight and the next, it was night time and her mother’s worried arms were encircling her outside of their forest home.

“My child, you must not be so reckless! If you had hit your head any harder…” her mother scolded before trailing off. Not even she wanted to speak the dreadful words that would have finished that sentence. Instead, she placed a firm palm on her daughter’s gashed forehead and closed her eyes.

Sparks shuttered slightly as her mother’s powerful magic flowed into her. This time, when Sparks touched her hand to her own forehead she found the gash that had been there was now completely gone. She sobbed her apologies softly into her mother’s shoulder and then was sent to her room for bed without supper as a punishment for putting herself in so much danger.

It was only late into the night, when memories, good and bad, of the day’s events kept playing out in her mind, that Sparks realized one of the Gnomes had swiped her hard won magical torch!

She couldn’t help but smile. It was going to be a lot of fun getting it back.