Where There's Smoke
Plot work
The journey had become so much more bearable since I started traveling with these two. I learned that the woman's name was Asha, and the man was called Micael, they both have been trying to teach my their language, they keep calling it "Common", though even I have noticed they have words that others don't. Either way, we are understanding each other much more.
This night, it was cold. I didn't feel it, but they certainly did. The wind off the Vast Plaines was bitter this time of year, but my wings heat kept me feeling any of it. We had gotten to the savannah's just west of Huron, though not out of danger. The journey was still slow, we mostly had to move at night. Thinking back to what they told me, it made much more sense. I took off my cloak to let my wings warm them while they slept and I kept watch, I was used to this from the Shrine Guard after all. There is no rest for the broken.
I never let them see my wings, I didn't want anymore questions the same as them. Asha had told me...
Her face beaded with sweat from the swamp, huffing as the knee deep muck clung to all of us. "We are not welcome here, Neaves. We are from the Caliphate."
"I don't understand what that means." I said while trying to pry my leg from the sucking slop.
"Have you lived under a rock your entire life?" Micael grunted.
"Not, lived amongst, humans. Micael, ignorant." I responded in my broken Common.
"Are you calling me ignorant or you?" He grunted back.
Asha laughed in her own beautiful way. "I think, Husband, that she meant her. The Caliphate and Huron have never been on good terms. Even when everyone else played nice after the last war, Huron and Zybtine were friends at a distance, and nervous close to each other. Do you understand, yes?"
"Most" I had finally pulled myself out and reach around to help Micael who seemed surprised by my strength.
"Which part, what words?" Asha asked, also turning around to help her husband.
"War. Caliphate, Huron. Zybtine" I said.
"Hmm, war is hard to explain, another time. Big fight, long fight. Caliphate is where we are from, the Caliphate is a faithful place. That faith is called Zybtine and also what the country is called now. Zybtine and Caliphate are the same thing." Miceal said, wringing the swamp much and mud from his pant legs.
"Huron?"
"The name of this country." The both answered in unison. They had an odd way of doing that, it annoyed me at first, but it had slowly been growing on me.
The memory faded from my eyes as I lit a small fire for them, noticing Micael move in his sleep, I didn't want to risk them seeing my wings. Controlling the small fire was a nice way for me to remember home, the same way we kept the eternal flames alive. A quiet whisper, a small rune drawn in the ground, just like meditation. Relaxing enough to listen to the crickets and grasshoppers as they had called them, under this wide open sky.
I had never really seen the night sky too much living in the Valley. It was beautiful, countless little lights, shifting neon clouds that drifted across the heavens. I could have stayed there forever, staring at the sky. If felt too short when the horizon began to lighten and Micael stirred again.
It was another week after that, Asha was teaching me more about her people. I enjoyed listening to their stories, hearing about their lives, I was beginning to find some comfort in their voices. "Why did you come here?" I asked, interrupting Asha's story about her old home in the Song of Bhal.
"We could ask you the same thing, you've been very tight lipped about yourself." She sighed, while Micael put his hand around her. "I shouldn't pry. We are fleeing this coming war. We are not foolish to believe that it wont happen. Ever since the Advisor left the Sultan's side, things have gotten worse. The Sultan is ramping up the military production like a fire over dry grasslands. We are heading to the City of Glaion, we heard that many other Calphiti are living inside the Baron's walls. He doesn't seem to care about nationality as long as no trouble is caused. I'm sorry that was a lot, did you understand that?"
I turned toward them, smiling. "Most." Asha laughed, while Micael sighed with a faint grin on his face.
***
We were almost out of Huron, I had long ago decided that I would stay with Asha and Micael to see them safe to get to this city. I wouldn't be joining them there, I made that obvious, though they still didn't understand why I wanted to go anywhere near the goblins. I didn't want to tell them I had been having dreams and visions of that woman, they simply just wouldn't understand my faith. It was too out there for humans I had learned, I tried to tell them about the Ascendant Butterfly, but without telling them much much more than I was comfortable giving away. It just left them with a confused look about them.
I was too engrossed in listening to Micael talk about the Easifatan Almatariq, I could almost feel the warm desert breeze as he piloted that Sand Skimmer. I didn't see them until it was too late.
The sound of heavy boots, bags and buckles. The smack of a gun against flesh, Miceal's muffled grunt. The sound of a hammer being pulled back. Whipping around small fires hidden in my clenched fists, a group of Huronian soldiers had both Asha and Micael on the ground. Asha had a nasty gash across her face, while Micael struggled against the men.
"Well well well, Calphiti spies making a run for it?" One of them barked a laugh, kicking Asha in the side. She huffed out a pained noise.
"What of this thing? It ain't human with those eyes, probably more Fuhjimi filth like those damned Gorgons." My fury grew far faster than I could control.
I was expecting something like this, I was expecting to be stopped and accosted, I was expecting to fight for my life at least once. I had already been shot at outside the Huronian walls, I had already had to travel on foot over the worst this country had to offer. But, what I wasn't expecting was the wrath I would feel at seeing those two humans hurt.
Setting my hand on the gun pointed at me, the molten slag that dripped to ground startled the soldier holding it. Hissing as his hand was burned to the bone, the others raised their weapons toward me. Several small pinpoint fireballs shot down the barrels of their rifles, setting the bullets off inside their chambers. Several small explosions as the barrels couldn't hold the pressure I was forcing to stay there.
Not even realizing the area around me was starting to burn, the cloak on my back catching fire. My wings burning like a second sun, three of the soldiers pulled handgun out of holsters. The bullets never had the chance to hit me as they flew passed me, nothing more than molten pools of brass. The word "Mistwalker" on their lips. Not registering that apparently we were a bit more well known that I had first thought.
They tried to run, tried being the operative word. The three that had their hands on Asha and Micael were ash before they could even scream. A torrent of plasmatic air roared passed the others, their charred bodied hitting the ground like stones. The scream that ripped from my throat was the breath of dragons, bathing the small copse of trees and grassland in the new life of heat and hell.
They ran, those that I allowed to survive. It didn't stop my from searing their uniforms to their skin, didn't stop me from cauterizing wounds shut from the small bolts of lightning I put through their shoulders. Hoping that I had done enough that they'd never be able to pick up a gun again, let them feel their wounds for the rest of their gods forsaken lives. Only... I feel to my knees. Hot tears running down my face.
That was exactly what I didn't want. It reminded me too much of hunting those fools who tried to get too close to the village. Ryhs face swimming in my vision, Pyria, Erlin, Afjie... I didn't realize just home much I wanted to go home until now. What had I gotten myself into...
I flinched when someone gently touched my shoulder, "Neaves, are you alright? I, I don't know what to say." Asha whispered, eyes glued to the charred bodies. Fear in her voice as the ash of those men fell from her clothes.
"My name is Neaves Emberwing. I am an Ember of the Mistwalkers..." My wings flexed with a reflexive pride, opening wide to the bright sunlight. Giving both of them a full view of the molten dragonfly wings that grew from my back. "I am one of the Shrine Guard. Humans have known me by many names. Ghost of Fire, Witch of Ash, The Voice in the Mists. I thought it would have been better if you didn't know."
Micael, nursing a bruise on his face picked me up by the arms, wiping away my tears. "Neaves. We must go, I fear the repercussions of you letting those men live. As for now, I think it's time you tell us why a living legend is wandering for far from her home."
***
The report sitting on the Marshall's desk left bitter taste in his mouth. Steepling his fingers he hung his head low, the cup of tea next to him having gone cold some time ago. A report of a small group of Mistwalkers aiding two Calphiti spies out to the west of the Mjerinot. The report detailed that the patrol had spotted them a few miles off, attempted to reason with them and come quietly.
Only those Mistwalkers had used their magic to burn more than a few soldiers alive. Good men, how would he explain to the survivors of what happened? Loyal soldiers, garrisoned in the western battalions for years. The questions only kept coming, one after the other. "Why would the Mistwalkers help the Calphiti forces unless they had already made a deal with them? Why were there survivors of that altercation at all, the Valley was dangerous for a reason. What did the Zybtine offer the Mistwalkers? Was there now a new enemy so close to Huron?"
The Marshall stepped away from his desk, pushing aside the tent flaps to oversee the shipyard and the Army conducting drills. Mobilizing for a war on the southern front. Now, now it seemed that the Valley and it's strategic importance held a potential enemy. A powerful, well versed enemy...
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Author's Notes
I have been thinking about how to move a plot line later on for a long time, just never really got goo idea of how to do that until this came to mind. The Valley of Mists is a strategically important area for both sides of the war. Though, to the Mistwalkers who live there, they had an inflated sense of how much danger they are in. Until this report was given to the Marshall, a falsified one made to save face for the surviving soldiers to deal with the embarrassment of being defeated by a single "woman". Now, this puts the Valley in real danger, especially if the Military thinks the Calphiti are making moves to gain territory so close to the capital city of The Federation of Huron. I'll need to make this into a full chapter when I get to it, spend a lot more time with Micael and Asha.