Ryzom

“My name in these lands is Emberstorm… a name I adopted from an old nickname given for my fierce temper when I was younger. In these lands, I’m a crafter of weapons, armor, and ideals; a forager of the lands and of sorrows; a fighter of plants, animals, and life; a healer of physical wounds and attempted healer of souls. Found that one hard with my own still shivering in the dark, nursing its wounds. Here, I walk among people who don’t know of true death, who look to the Karavan and the Kami for guidance, who think of me as a Matis… and I let it be thought so by most. But, if I were to take to the waters and sail the journey back to the lands I came from, they’d know me as quite another. To them, I am Ashalyn Whisper, the ash fey of impure birth, given to the grey skinned people of the woodlands... the ones now seek my death for my actions against one of their own. To them, I am a crafter who makes swords and sings with a voice too sorrowful for even the crying birds of the dark trees…”

She closed her eyes for a long moment.

“Homins can share thoughts, in a way. Let me deepen that, show you the world, the life I once knew…”
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Bright, red-tinted amber eyes looked down on her, the voice that spoke in her mind was warm like the sun as it set over a summer night above the rolling white sand over the shore:

‘Child of the summer sun,
child of the flame,
child of mine and of none,
child, I call your name.

Storm of embers bright,
song of ashes in the night,
you are my child,
spirit fire strong and wild,
yet none will see you the same.

I am the father you’ll never see,
the one they call to when day is done.
They know not the truth of me,
the “child of the sun”.

I give you skin of the ashen earth,
golden rays will be your hair from birth.
Eyes blue of the sea,
a spirit strong yet soft as can be,
Of your people you will never truly be.’

Remembered only because of how it was instilled, the child was at calm while all others around her were in turmoil with alarm, save for one other who looked on. He alone stood guard over the child though still a child himself, watching from the shadows as dark as his hair, though his skin as pale as hers.

“She is not of mine, Eilis. I could only wonder about the boy, but there is no wonder with her.” The man said, his dark grey eyes flaring.

“Lei est de zon.” The woman Eilis responded solemnly in Heisan, the holy language.

“Of the sun is she? Eilis, you know that the people will not accept her as the daughter of the High Priest Malik, of your husband.” The elder woman said quietly from behind the man.

“No, they will know she is not my child. Matron Oda speaks true.” The man Malik agreed, shifting his hold on the light-bearing staff of deep red abis wood. Eilis sighed.

“I know this well.” She said to them.

“You know what the traditional law requires for an ill-sown child.” Oda said. Malik bowed his head with closed eyes.

“No, I cannot… she is my child, my daughter… I cannot cast her to the fires of the high mount… there must be some other way.” Eilis whispered, closing her own eyes to hold back a watery intent.

“If she’d never been…” Oda began, and Malik lifted his head, holding a hand.

“She has not been decreed to the people, so she has not been. We will cast her out, leave her at the edge of the ash lands for another to have.” He said in a calm, deep voice. Oda knelt onto one knee, Eilis joining after a long pause.

“The Sun Child would not have her consumed for the sin of her birth?” Oda asked without looking up.

“She is of the sun, as is he. Yet they are also of the ash. Do not take them back to the fields of ash, nor leave them here on the mountain of fire. Take them to the edge of the ash lands, where the fields peel back from the trees and sand. There will they be carried to their fate.” Malik said, then bowed his head once more.

“So has been decreed. Eilis, it is for you to have this done, for they are of your nisi.” Oda told her, rising to her feet once more.

“I serve.” Eilis said, bowing her head to Oda in respect, then bowing to Malik. “I will return when I am fit to. Forgive me, husband…”

“It was not of yours, Eilis.” Malik said, his voice soft as he embraced her with one arm.

“Eilis, Malik- don’t hold this long.” Oda said, lightly prodding them with her short hand staff of white abis. The two parted, and the younger woman walked over and lifted the girl into her arms, dipping a finger into the ash and tracing lightly around the child’s eyes.

“Her name is Ashalyn. Since she is of mine, I give her my old roots of Whisper. May she know of this when she can understand, that her place is not among those of my blood.” Eilis said, then shivered when the marks turned red.

“Of the sun, she is.” Malik murmured.

“You name her of "fire song”? That name hasn’t been granted to any in many generations, Eilis…” Oda scowled, shaking her head.

“It is what her soul fire speaks, Matron. It is her last gift of me. Come, Zyquo.” Eilis said, looking to the shadows. The boy stepped forward and bowed his head respectfully to the High Priest and Matron, then followed his mother as she led him down the path.

“Safe journey, High Priestess.” The guards murmured to her as she passed with the two children. She nodded to them only briefly as she passed, her eyes off in the distance, her mind far beyond anything comprehendible around them.

Bright gold flooded the dark stone path of the amber mountain just before she reached the foot of it. Eilis covered herself with her hood before looking ahead at the stone village that gleamed with the magical fires of the sun fey. She would have to pass around them, not through, to avoid any confrontation. She was not marked as High Priestess while she carried the child, and they would surely sense the little one’s unusually strong soul fire in an instant if she passed them. As much as Eilis would rather give her to the sun fey, who she knew would cherish her as nothing short of her high blood if not more… she had her orders.

It was a long journey over the sun-baked lands around the mountains, longer through the flowing ash fields of her own people. How she longed to walk among them as she passed through the waving grasses that flowed from red to amber to ash, to seek those who were gathering in the sheared pastures of growth and join in their harvest, leaving the children with the others to play their games in the ash… but she knew it was only of wanting dream as she looked to the bright white flames that shown in the little pair of blue eyes that was taking in all that surrounded. She looked back at her son as he struck at a buzzing creature with his dagger and shook her head.

“Zyquo, leave the barnich.” She called, though smiling proudly as he struck it down and looked up at her with guilty eyes. “It is alright, just don’t pursue them, they’ll gather in large numbers and chase you all the way to the shore. We don’t want that, now do we?”

“No, mother.” He said quietly, taking the hand she offered him and keeping at her side.

“Though we have about that far to go… I want a promise of you, young warrior.” Eilis said, looking down to meet his eyes. “You are to be a warrior, yes, but a guardian more so. You are to keep your watch over your sister, keep true to her. You are her big brother, and all the blood family she is to have. I want you to promise you will guard her with your life as you are able. She will need you far into your lives, even after you both have taken paths that put much earthly distance between you. Promise me?”

“Yes, mother. I promise.” The boy replied.

“You’ll be a fine young man someday.” Eilis murmured, leading him along the way. They traveled long into the month, the young mother carrying her daughter always, her son as he tired. She slept little herself, pushing ahead always to where they were bound. As a saltine smell greeted her with a soft hissing of water beyond the swaying grass, she knew they were near the stone before the shore and turned their path northern now. It was not long before they were met by the giants of blood and teeth with smoky tops; the forest that the fey did not travel into lightly, for its own people, the Tareldar as called by ashen tongue, never greeted them kindly.

Eilis drew a breath and made a camp where the three lands of sand, forest, and field met at a circle of stone. She sat with her children and dug into the ground uneasily with her spear, making marks around the camp in Heisan. She stopped after a while, the nodded, carefully setting a fire in the center.

“Keep watch on Ashalyn, that she doesn’t draw too near the fire, Zyquo. I must return to the fields.” Eilis said softly, her eyes stricken once more.

“Yes, mother.” The boy yawned, staring off towards the waters where the sun was making its bed. Eilis walked off into the fields once more, stopping a short distance away to look upon them once more, one last time.

“Emberstorm! Why are you hiding in a tree?” A boy’s voice laughed.

“That’s not my name!” The blond-haired girl at the top of the tree yelled down angrily, small bursts of fire lashed down towards the ground. The boy laughed.

“You spew a storm of embers and flames whenever you get mad! The sage must love you!” he jeered.

“Shut up and leave me alone!” The girl said angrily, throwing a stick at him, but it missed by a good distance. The boy laughed again.

“Bet the combat trainer won’t even let you near his door anymore!” he added.

“Leave her alone.” An older girl said, walking up with a large stick at hand, slashing it at the boy like a sword. The boy jumped back from the blow, but barely.

“Let her fight her own, Yoko! I’m sure her freak of people can fight.” The boy said, grabbing a stick of his own and lashing back, but the older girl easily dodge the attack.

“Ash, come down from the tree.” Yoko said calmly, swatting the boy and knocking him over. The girl jumped down from tree, landing on all four behind the older girl.

“You didn’t have to do that.” She said to Yoko as the boy turned and darted off.

“You shouldn’t put up with it. You’re not a freak, you’re one of the family.” Yoko said. “Come on now, we need to get food for dinner.”
“How am I not a freak?” the girl said as they walked along. “Everyone is taller, you’re grey skinned with short or no hair…”

“Appearances don’t make the person, Ashalyn.” Yoko said calmly as they walked on.

“Tell that to everyone else. I can feel their stares, Yoko. The only time they even feign respect is when they’re asking me to fix or make weapons, even the adults.” Ashalyn replied, stopping to gather some berries she spotted, gathering some bark into her bag as well.

“If they could see your inner beauty, that bright white spirit, they way mother and I do, Ash, they would stare all the more.” Yoko told her. She stopped and held a hand as she spotted a creature stirring in the woods ahead.

“Predator?” Ashalyn asked, moving back a step.

“Dinner.” Yoko said, making a few fast gestures and sending a bright blast of cold into the trees at a large, furry creature with great natural swords on either side of its head, next to its ears.

“A stag… might I have its horns?” Ashalyn said as pulled herself up into a tree to be out of the way as the creature charged and Yoko prepared to strike again.

“Waste nothing. You can have the hide as well, I’m sure you can learn some use of it with that brilliant crafting of yours.” Yoko mused as she danced back from the creature’s blow, losing her spell in the process. Ashalyn watched her adopted sister’s fluid motions.

“How long did you have to study under the sun fey sage to learn that magic?” she asked.

“Ten years, Ashalyn. As long as we’ve had you with us.” The older girl said, looking over the now fallen creature. She knelt down and hoisted it onto her shoulders, carefully returning to her feet as Ashalyn jumped down onto her own.

“You were only a child!” Ashalyn said, following Yoko towards their home, stopping to gather every opportunity she saw.

“A child learns easiest, so we are taught young. This is true for anything. A young one has a want to learn, and thus absorbs the information and teaching like a cloth.” Yoko said. Ashalyn shrugged.

“Some do. Others struggle. This is true even of the older.” She said, stopping to move her bag from shoulder to shoulder.

“You always are so… argumentative!” Yoko laughed. “But it is welcomed.”

“Girls, you have dinner?” An older woman’s voice called from the bedroom of the small house.

“Ai, mother! What a mess!” Yoko cried, seeing the main room and kitchen littered with materials, food, and tools, among other bits of mess.

“Yes, yes, I’ve been trying to find something put out of place.” The older woman said, walking in.

“What do you seek, mother?” Ashalyn asked respectfully. The older woman smiled.

“Something to write on. I had one asking of you.” She said.

“Of me? No, she must mean you, Yoko.” Ashalyn said. Their mother shook her head.

“I mean of you, Ashalyn, dear. A young man of the high courts came asking of you. He’s interested in your hand work.” She told the girls.

“My crafting? Someone would actually sponsor it?” Ashalyn said, her eyes gleaming with bright dancing flames.

“More than that, dear. He wishes to take you on to be his bride when you are of age.” Their mother told her.

“Which house does he hail from?” Yoko asked.

“The House of Shadows, young Leonard Shadrasin.” Their mother replied. Ashalyn shivered a bit.

“The one you train with, Yoko?” she asked her sister.

“Yes… I do not trust him, mother. He smells of a taint that I cannot place.” Yoko said uneasily.

“Yes, he is so cold…” Ashalyn agreed.

“Nonsense, he’s a very giving man. His family pays for the food for our village.” Their mother said.

“That is not what I refer to, mother. Everyone has a warm fire within… his is quite cold, very dark in color. I’ve seen none other like it, and such a thing bothers me.” Ashalyn said.

“At least give him a chance, Ashalyn. Now, I have a gift for you. See those fine materials over there?” Their mother said, gesturing towards the table. Ashalyn walked over to the table, and her eyes lit up.

“Fine fibers and oils!” she exclaimed.

“Yes, and saps and resins. You are to make yourself some good garments with them, for the courts. Young Leonard sent them for you, that you might join him in the noble courts.” Their mother said. Ashalyn’s joy faded only slightly.

“I will do my best, mother… I am not so good with clothing yet.” Ashalyn said, carefully examining the new tool and plans with the materials.

“He promised more every day until you join him. A very fine courting gift, I’d say.” Their mother said.

“Where is father?” Yoko asked. Their mother sighed, turning to her now.

“Going to speak to the village council. He has your stand, not wanting Leonard here. I believe young Leonard is also with them, trying to sway him. But surely, one so wise, dedicated, talented, and wealthy would be good for our young Ashalyn and her craft.” Their mother said.

“I… will give chance, for you, mother.” Ashalyn said as she carefully worked at a skirt, following the plans closely. She’d never worked with anything so fine, she was too moved to think over the circumstances of it too thoroughly. After all, she’d been presented with such a gift, surely nothing ill could come of it…

He was taller than even her adopted father and presented a charming face, showering her with gifts and pleasant little things. He taught her the niceties of attending the noble and royal courts, including how to not act as bored as she felt at them. Then when she came of age at thirteen, the court crafters whisked her away to have her decorated in a long light blue dress with full silver jewelry adorning her as she was presented to Leonard before the King. Yet it was all not right, not at all, she had that horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach the entire time, especially when she was told her family would not be present. There was something in the eyes of the servant girl that brought her the news, the way she refused to look in Ashalyn's eyes...

Ashalyn pulled Leonard to a side after the ceremony was over, not giving him a chance to join the festivities right away. "Leonard... have you received news from any of my family?" she asked quietly, worry shining in her bright eyes. He bowed his head sadly.

"I am most sorry, dear. The most unfortunate news just reached me... the entire estate of your family is gone, your family with it. I have had the bandits who did it dealt with, but there was little more that could be done," he told her with a sorrowful tone, lightly brushing the side of her face with his larger fingertips. Ashalyn stared at him for a long moment, then turned and retreated out of the hall, running out to the pond in the gardens. Leonard's mother was sitting there. Ashalyn cried for a long while before noticing the older woman, then rushed to bow to her.

"Gr-Gree-tings, Lady Kamaria," she stuttered through sniffles.

"Be calm, Ashalyn. What has put you in this distress?" the older woman asked softly in her usual calm, sorrowful voice, pulling the young lady into her large arms comfortingly.

"L-Lord Leonard just informed me... that he received news of what the bandits did to my family..." Ashalyn whispered. The older woman snorted.

"You mean what he paid them to do," Kamaria murmured. Ashalyn looked at her with horror and shock.

"M-My lady? What do you mean?" she asked.

"Leonard has a heart colder than the ice that never melts, the ways he works are of nothing short of evil. Your family has been petitioning the king for your return since they learned the truth of him and all he has done of ill. He could not leave them alive, in the way of his plans and intentions. I am sorry, dear," Kamaria said in a hushed voice.

"This... this cannot be... I... I'm sorry!" Ashalyn cried, turning and running off, simply running for a long time. She eventually collapsed at a familiar spot near the lake hidden in the cliffs at the edge of the mountains. She sat in the sand and cried for a long while, not noticing the other who wandered close and sat beside her.

"Why does one of such beauty cry so sorely?" a warm male voice asked gently. She looked up into the shining silver eyes of a taller man with long golden hair and bronzed skin wearing a beautiful suit of golden white heavy armor. She stared into his eyes for a long moment, intrigued by the warmness of him, of the way the sun danced in his silver eyes.

"I... I just learned of two terrible things, one concerning the death of my family, one of the coldness... the darkness of my new husband," Ashalyn whispered, no longer crying now, but her breath nearly lost.

"I am most sorry to hear... you must be the young bride of Lord Leonard the... well, I'll not taint my tongue with the proper words for him. Ashalyn Whisper, the one whose soul is a song of fire," the man said, his voice warm and oddly alluring to her.

"You... know the holy language?" she asked curiously.

"Yes, all of my kind do. Oh, your forgiveness, I've not introduced myself properly. I am Roshan Sorin," the man said, bowing his head respectfully to her.

"Follower of the sun," Ashalyn mentally translated the meaning. He smiled.

"And a follower of you for a long while now, of your beauty," Roshan murmured, making Ashalyn blush rather badly.

"Oh! You'd flirt with a married girl?" she said teasingly.

"I'd have flirted with you before now, but I could never get close enough. I've loved you since my silver eyes found the treasure of the sun's fire that is your being," Roshan murmured, lightly brushing her golden hair back off her face, behind her ear. A smile soft smile touched her face.

"If I'd known of you sooner, perhaps my family would still live and I would still have a life of my own..." Ashalyn sighed softly.

"Come to the place behind the waterfall with me, and I shall show you some life," Roshan whispered softly in her ear, his warm breath making her shiver slightly.

"Take me away," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck as he lifter her off her feet and carried her off. Some part of her knew every last bit of this was wrong... but the rest of her simply told that part to hush and enjoy the strong, warm feeling of what would turn out to be the first great good in her life in a long storm of sorrow.

(tbc once I can get the next part done)