Tags: F!Watcher, Edér, angst

PoETober 2018

Prompt #6: Ruins

Edér drove the horse like Hel itself snapped at his heels, only stopping in Defiance Bay to change it for another so he didn't run the poor thing to exhaustion.

It'd taken just a day for news to hit Dyrford. At first an earthquake, the keep in rubble and scores dead. Then an explosion of some kind, a chasm that'd opened underneath, a monster that'd swallowed Caed Nua whole. Then clearer reports trickled in, and the ice that'd formed in his gut froze the rest of him solid. After that, the rest was a blur. Rounding up anyone and everyone who could help and the supplies to go with them, and a surprisingly large crowd he'd got. But he couldn't stay to travel with them.

He had to know. He had to see. Even if…

He couldn't finish that thought.

The sun was just starting to rise, casting the starry black of the sky into hazy violets and blues, when Edér saw the smoke. Several wisps trailing high, blanketed by a thicker haze that already scratched at his throat. Campfires, he assumed of the former, and he didn't need to guess the latter. The air was dead. No wind, no birdsong, the only noise that of the crunch of dry dirt and drier husks of grass under the horse's hooves. A particular sound – or lack thereof – he thought he'd left behind five years ago.

He rode to what remained of the eastern gate, and there he found survivors huddled around some fires between a scattering of makeshift tents. A few looked up as he approached, but they were too exhausted and wide-eyed with remembered fear to do more than stare. Something like a half-stifled wail came from past the gate, amid the even softer calls of people further in.

He'd barely opened his mouth, still uncertain of what to say, when a man – cleaner than the others, but only just – stepped out of a nearby tent. The man eyed him for a long moment, then waved him down, let him hitch his horse to a pole, and led him into another tent without a word.

It was dim inside, and it took his eyes a minute to adjust. By then, the man had already gone. But he knew he wasn't alone.

"Edér?"

The once-imposing stone figure of the steward stood near the entrance. Now, she was in pieces, only her torso and head whole, the antlers of her mantle broken and set aside, and the rest he could only guess. He wasn't sure he wanted to know how that felt.

He nodded. "Yeah, it's me. Is…?"

"Lady En alive? Yes."

And like that a weight in his chest he'd carried since he'd first heard dropped away, leaving him dizzy with relief, and he nearly swayed on the spot. He leaned against a nearby crate to steady himself as he pressed a hand over his temples, wiping away the cold sweat that'd gathered.

"Where?" he said.

But he needn't have asked, as it was then he finally made out the shape at the other end, a lump he'd passed over as simply more supplies. Now he could see it was breathing, a slow, steady motion under a blanket atop a bedroll, a head of dark hair peeking out from beneath. But something about it gave him pause, something that sent a shiver through him and raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

"Edér, wait. You should know—"

But he was already walking over, his heart in his throat, and he knelt down and eased aside the cloth.

And it was that late night in Elafa's house years ago all over again. Glassy eyes looking up but not looking at him, face limp and loose, and that unnaturally deep, even breathing.

Edér screwed his eyes shut.

This was a nightmare. He was going to wake up. Now.

He opened his eyes. But En was still there, staring up with that empty gaze.

"I'm sorry," the steward said.

He knew it wasn't her fault, that she couldn't have prevented this, but all he could do was sit there and listen to her explain as he looked down at what had been his closest friend in years. His mind was blank, taking in words but not processing them. She told of the adra statue buried beneath Caed Nua breaking free, of hundreds whose souls had been shorn like wheat and the keep in burning ruins, of aid already come from nearby settlements and Defiance Bay, of the search for survivors and those tending to the injured.

He sat quietly through it all, till she said, "It appears the further the statue moves, the more Lady En weakens. I can only assume the enormity of her soul left enough for her to live for a time."

For a time. For a time. It echoed in his head.

"Then… that's it? There's nothing we can do?" he said at last, and it didn't sound like his voice. It was too far away, too suddenly tired and lost.

The steward stayed silent for a long moment. Then: "Might I suggest a ship?"