A Song of Snow and Ashes by S.J. Drew
support and in part to restrain him.
By the time she finished the song, all that was left was a pile of fine ash. The sky was turning violet and pink as the sun set.
Alain picked some of it up and let it catch on the wind. "Goodbye, little brother."
Blake did the same. "May your soul know peace."
Eliora looked at both of them, who nodded, and she took a handful of ash. "May the Light guide you to your final rest," she said in her language, and let the ash run through her fingers. It reminded her of something else. Then she brought in the wind to scatter the rest of the ash over the gently waving grasslands. When it was gone she turned to them. "Now the burden of sorrow rests on you. I will do whatever I can to help ease that burden. I can take you anywhere you want to go. Or you can come with me to the Charred Lands. I can't offer much there except a fresh start."
"Take us back to Renfrew," Alain said. "Let us get things sorted."
"I'll summon another iridescent for you when we've made a decision," Blake said.
She nodded. "I'll do that. By the way, my name is Eliora."
"Thank you, Eliora," Alain said.
She opened up a portal and took them back to Renfrew, where it was still raining. "Iridescent," she called.
One appeared next to her. "Yes, Mistress?"
"Go tell Jomei I have defeated the ShadowWalker and will return to Tallis Marrom in the morning."
It bowed and vanished.
She walked into the Light Realm and reappeared outside of the Davin's wagon. He was sitting on the steps, staring northeast, but jumped up immediately when he saw her. Without a single word, he just took her in his arms and let her cry. She cried until she was utterly exhausted and he gently herded her into bed.
After a restless and disturbed sleep, she got out of bed and crept out of the wagon, trying not to wake Davin, who still slept on the couch. The sky was still mostly dark although it was turning pink on the eastern horizon. She sat on the steps, moodily watching the sun rise and letting the strange, black dirt run through her fingers over and over again. The smell of tea and breakfast came wafting out of the wagon, and yet Davin still let her alone.
Finally he came out with a mug of tea and handed it to her.
She drank it without tasting it. "I killed him."
"I know," he said, sitting down.
"His brother and his best friend watched him die. I watched him die. Maybe I could have saved his life, but I couldn't save his soul, so I let him die."
"Did you try to make it easy for him?"
She nodded. "I sang for him. He heard me over the rain and I sang for him. I hope you're not mad at me for that."
"Eliora, I would never be angry at you for that. If anyone deserved to hear your songs, it would be that poor soul."
"His brother and best friend held him as he died. They agreed to burn the body in the fashion of my people. I took them to a place of peace and I burned the body. I took the ash in my hand and scattered it to the winds, just like this," she said, holding up a handful of dirt and blowing on it. "Of course there's no wind here." The dirt trickled through her fingers. "But this feels very much the same, just grittier." She continued let dirt pour through her fingers. "There’s no life in this. It's like ash and sand," she said. “Ash and sand,” she repeated, realization slowly dawning. "My gods.”
“What?” he asked.
“What happens when you try to farm this land?”
"We can’t get anything to grow. We've tried to till the soil. That means to turn it over and expose the new soil underneath. It doesn't help."
She started digging at the ground, first with her hands, then with magic. "But how deep did you go? A hand deep? Two hands?"
"About a hand is typical, maybe a little deeper."
"It's as deep as my elbow," she said. "Nothing but ash. Some fine, some gritty, but it's just ash."
“How do you know it’s just ash?”
“The ground is my element; I know ash for what it is.”
“But how it possible to have so much ash here? There’s nothing to generate it.”
"I’m not sure. Let me see," she said and cast a magic detection spell. Without the clutter of the wagons and their glyphs and the mages themselves, she could detect something strange about the land itself.
"What do you see?" he asked, noticing that her eyes turned white.
"It's not magic," she said, holding a scoop of the ash in her hands. "Or at least, it's not magic anymore. It's a remnant of magic that's twisted, somehow. There was too much magic used in too short a period of time. The remnant isn't just arcane. There's something divine, or there was. That’s what Hanae meant when she said there was no life but there was shadow." The color drained from her face. "Remember the story you told me before you left? The story of why your people stay here? The story of the last battle?"
He nodded.
"What if it's not just a story? What if it's not just some exaggerated tale to teach the children responsibility for the crimes of their ancestors?"
"What are you thinking?"
"What if it's literally true? These are the ashes of the dead. Everything that was here, every mage, every cleric, every fighter, plant, animal, every weapon, everything living or dead, perhaps even the ground itself, was destroyed by that final spell. This is all that remains. The land is literally charred."
He turned pale. "But that's impossible."
"The magic of that battle and within the bodies of the mages and clerics was somehow destroyed by the spell but something, some remnant was left behind. The magic is dead. The land is dead. The dead magic bound in these ashes keep the land from healing. It's like a curse. All that destruction, all that hate, all the Darkness, is bound into these ashes of the dead. That why you see ghosts and visions on the Day of the Dead. Their souls have never been freed. They're still here, fighting the last fight, bound in their own despair and fear. That's why the weather is so unnatural. Bitter winds and heavy snows in the winter, but still, dry air in the summer. When does it ever rain?"
"A few times in autumn or spring, before it turns to snow or dries up completely."
"There's not enough wind. There's nothing to bring in the rain or the seeds for anything to take root and try to grow," she said.
"But we've never detected any magic in the ground. We've tried dispells over the centuries just in case but with no effect."
"That's because this remnant is not just arcane, nor is it divine. It's not even like normal magic it's so twisted and dead. It's an undead remnant, a shadow of magic. You'd never think to look for it and I don’t know if you could even see it. Don't you believe me?"
He nodded. "I believe you can see things we cannot. You wield the power of the elements, which no mage or cleric can do."
She stared out at the dark, still plains and let the ash fall from her fingers. "I know how to heal this land, but it will take a long time and we may not live to benefit from it."
He took her hands. "Eliora, spending my life with you is enough. If my children are freed from this burden, I will die a happy man."
She smiled.
"What will you do to help the land?"
"Scatter the ashes. Till the ground deep enough to renew the soil. Bring back the winds and the rains and seeds to take root. And on the next Day of the Dead, I will help the dead to their final resting place. I will cleanse the land of the shadow and release it from the curse."
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. "You are the LightBearer. I will do what I can to help you."
"Just be here," she said. "And maybe cook dinner."
He laughed. "You should probably be getting to Tallis Marrom. I think you have some people to return to the forest and some farewells."
She nodded and her expression turned sad.
"Those two, the brother and friend of the ShadowWalker, if they need you, they know where to find you, right?"
; "Yes. I told them they could come here if they had no other place to go."
He looked surprised, and then smiled. "You would do something like that."
"Oh, you don't mind, do you?"
"My people don't like outsiders, but they can join us. Exiles in a land of exiles."
"I don't know if they will."
"It is their choice to make. It may take a lot of time. Grief and despair make it very difficult to see the possibilities of the future."
"You're right."
"Go on now. You're already running late."
She kissed him again and vanished into the Light Realm.
The Council was awaiting her return. They did not celebrate, although they let her know they were glad she had won. They recognized the occasion was too solemn for a celebration. The younger men, however, were not so subdued and she knew that there would be a party by nightfall that she had no intention of attending. She thanked them for helping her and spent much of the day returning the Hunters to Tallis Marrom. When that chore was done, she slipped back to the stables, where she had left Orlice in case anyone needed a mount.
One look at the horse told her it was no longer a magical creature. It was now just an ordinary animal about three years old. She felt a little disappointed. "I suppose you were only meant to help me win," she thought. "But I'll take you with me. You can pull the wagon."
"You're welcome to stay, you know," came Aidan's voice.
"I know."
"I'd like it if you would stay," he said quietly.
She turned to face him. "I've made my choice."
"You can change your mind."
"I do like you, Aidan," she said gently.
"But not
By the time she finished the song, all that was left was a pile of fine ash. The sky was turning violet and pink as the sun set.
Alain picked some of it up and let it catch on the wind. "Goodbye, little brother."
Blake did the same. "May your soul know peace."
Eliora looked at both of them, who nodded, and she took a handful of ash. "May the Light guide you to your final rest," she said in her language, and let the ash run through her fingers. It reminded her of something else. Then she brought in the wind to scatter the rest of the ash over the gently waving grasslands. When it was gone she turned to them. "Now the burden of sorrow rests on you. I will do whatever I can to help ease that burden. I can take you anywhere you want to go. Or you can come with me to the Charred Lands. I can't offer much there except a fresh start."
"Take us back to Renfrew," Alain said. "Let us get things sorted."
"I'll summon another iridescent for you when we've made a decision," Blake said.
She nodded. "I'll do that. By the way, my name is Eliora."
"Thank you, Eliora," Alain said.
She opened up a portal and took them back to Renfrew, where it was still raining. "Iridescent," she called.
One appeared next to her. "Yes, Mistress?"
"Go tell Jomei I have defeated the ShadowWalker and will return to Tallis Marrom in the morning."
It bowed and vanished.
She walked into the Light Realm and reappeared outside of the Davin's wagon. He was sitting on the steps, staring northeast, but jumped up immediately when he saw her. Without a single word, he just took her in his arms and let her cry. She cried until she was utterly exhausted and he gently herded her into bed.
After a restless and disturbed sleep, she got out of bed and crept out of the wagon, trying not to wake Davin, who still slept on the couch. The sky was still mostly dark although it was turning pink on the eastern horizon. She sat on the steps, moodily watching the sun rise and letting the strange, black dirt run through her fingers over and over again. The smell of tea and breakfast came wafting out of the wagon, and yet Davin still let her alone.
Finally he came out with a mug of tea and handed it to her.
She drank it without tasting it. "I killed him."
"I know," he said, sitting down.
"His brother and his best friend watched him die. I watched him die. Maybe I could have saved his life, but I couldn't save his soul, so I let him die."
"Did you try to make it easy for him?"
She nodded. "I sang for him. He heard me over the rain and I sang for him. I hope you're not mad at me for that."
"Eliora, I would never be angry at you for that. If anyone deserved to hear your songs, it would be that poor soul."
"His brother and best friend held him as he died. They agreed to burn the body in the fashion of my people. I took them to a place of peace and I burned the body. I took the ash in my hand and scattered it to the winds, just like this," she said, holding up a handful of dirt and blowing on it. "Of course there's no wind here." The dirt trickled through her fingers. "But this feels very much the same, just grittier." She continued let dirt pour through her fingers. "There’s no life in this. It's like ash and sand," she said. “Ash and sand,” she repeated, realization slowly dawning. "My gods.”
“What?” he asked.
“What happens when you try to farm this land?”
"We can’t get anything to grow. We've tried to till the soil. That means to turn it over and expose the new soil underneath. It doesn't help."
She started digging at the ground, first with her hands, then with magic. "But how deep did you go? A hand deep? Two hands?"
"About a hand is typical, maybe a little deeper."
"It's as deep as my elbow," she said. "Nothing but ash. Some fine, some gritty, but it's just ash."
“How do you know it’s just ash?”
“The ground is my element; I know ash for what it is.”
“But how it possible to have so much ash here? There’s nothing to generate it.”
"I’m not sure. Let me see," she said and cast a magic detection spell. Without the clutter of the wagons and their glyphs and the mages themselves, she could detect something strange about the land itself.
"What do you see?" he asked, noticing that her eyes turned white.
"It's not magic," she said, holding a scoop of the ash in her hands. "Or at least, it's not magic anymore. It's a remnant of magic that's twisted, somehow. There was too much magic used in too short a period of time. The remnant isn't just arcane. There's something divine, or there was. That’s what Hanae meant when she said there was no life but there was shadow." The color drained from her face. "Remember the story you told me before you left? The story of why your people stay here? The story of the last battle?"
He nodded.
"What if it's not just a story? What if it's not just some exaggerated tale to teach the children responsibility for the crimes of their ancestors?"
"What are you thinking?"
"What if it's literally true? These are the ashes of the dead. Everything that was here, every mage, every cleric, every fighter, plant, animal, every weapon, everything living or dead, perhaps even the ground itself, was destroyed by that final spell. This is all that remains. The land is literally charred."
He turned pale. "But that's impossible."
"The magic of that battle and within the bodies of the mages and clerics was somehow destroyed by the spell but something, some remnant was left behind. The magic is dead. The land is dead. The dead magic bound in these ashes keep the land from healing. It's like a curse. All that destruction, all that hate, all the Darkness, is bound into these ashes of the dead. That why you see ghosts and visions on the Day of the Dead. Their souls have never been freed. They're still here, fighting the last fight, bound in their own despair and fear. That's why the weather is so unnatural. Bitter winds and heavy snows in the winter, but still, dry air in the summer. When does it ever rain?"
"A few times in autumn or spring, before it turns to snow or dries up completely."
"There's not enough wind. There's nothing to bring in the rain or the seeds for anything to take root and try to grow," she said.
"But we've never detected any magic in the ground. We've tried dispells over the centuries just in case but with no effect."
"That's because this remnant is not just arcane, nor is it divine. It's not even like normal magic it's so twisted and dead. It's an undead remnant, a shadow of magic. You'd never think to look for it and I don’t know if you could even see it. Don't you believe me?"
He nodded. "I believe you can see things we cannot. You wield the power of the elements, which no mage or cleric can do."
She stared out at the dark, still plains and let the ash fall from her fingers. "I know how to heal this land, but it will take a long time and we may not live to benefit from it."
He took her hands. "Eliora, spending my life with you is enough. If my children are freed from this burden, I will die a happy man."
She smiled.
"What will you do to help the land?"
"Scatter the ashes. Till the ground deep enough to renew the soil. Bring back the winds and the rains and seeds to take root. And on the next Day of the Dead, I will help the dead to their final resting place. I will cleanse the land of the shadow and release it from the curse."
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. "You are the LightBearer. I will do what I can to help you."
"Just be here," she said. "And maybe cook dinner."
He laughed. "You should probably be getting to Tallis Marrom. I think you have some people to return to the forest and some farewells."
She nodded and her expression turned sad.
"Those two, the brother and friend of the ShadowWalker, if they need you, they know where to find you, right?"
He looked surprised, and then smiled. "You would do something like that."
"Oh, you don't mind, do you?"
"My people don't like outsiders, but they can join us. Exiles in a land of exiles."
"I don't know if they will."
"It is their choice to make. It may take a lot of time. Grief and despair make it very difficult to see the possibilities of the future."
"You're right."
"Go on now. You're already running late."
She kissed him again and vanished into the Light Realm.
The Council was awaiting her return. They did not celebrate, although they let her know they were glad she had won. They recognized the occasion was too solemn for a celebration. The younger men, however, were not so subdued and she knew that there would be a party by nightfall that she had no intention of attending. She thanked them for helping her and spent much of the day returning the Hunters to Tallis Marrom. When that chore was done, she slipped back to the stables, where she had left Orlice in case anyone needed a mount.
One look at the horse told her it was no longer a magical creature. It was now just an ordinary animal about three years old. She felt a little disappointed. "I suppose you were only meant to help me win," she thought. "But I'll take you with me. You can pull the wagon."
"You're welcome to stay, you know," came Aidan's voice.
"I know."
"I'd like it if you would stay," he said quietly.
She turned to face him. "I've made my choice."
"You can change your mind."
"I do like you, Aidan," she said gently.
"But not