One thousand, four hundred-something winters had passed since the gems emerged from their uneven sandstone walls. Jasper had lost count of how many generations of people there had been since the baby she'd returned had grown up and died of old age, and that was largely because other gems enjoyed diplomacy more than she did and took up the role for her. Dandelion and Aster left long ago, driven by a need to wander, and returned every few hundred years or so to draw up maps and share their experiences. A great circular house arose above the canyon, as they had no need to follow the herds or migrate to take advantage of growing seasons. Though it was made in the image of the pit-houses to the south, they were reluctant to dig straight into the sandstone that was too close to the surface for a proper pit. It was their shelter during the storms, a resting space for those who wanted to escape the sun, a meeting place for the few times Jasper needed to make major decisions that affected all of them, and a storage space for the crafters. Except for the few who kept their gem names, the others took their names from their skills, pet interests, or defining features. The skinny jasper was officially Twig, though she had played with the idea of being called Bowyer for a while. The pale jasper became Scouter, for she had the best long-distance vision of all of them. The citrine with the unusually long neck was called Egret by the people she dealt with and adopted the name as her own. And so on. In the end, Jasper remained Jasper because she didn't feel the need to be called anything else.
With diplomacy out of her hands and the gems largely capable of handling themselves, Jasper existed in a quagmire of discontent. She wasn't sure why, either. Except for hunting, which was purely recreational and mostly just to keep the crafters and eaters happy, she hadn't taken to various crafts and skills as well as the other gems. Her hands were enormous and unsuited for delicate work, after all. The bulk of the skills she could do either bored her or frustrated her, or both. It was like she was made for something this world couldn't provide. At least not yet; the people were always inventing something new and it was only a matter of time before they developed something more suited to her tastes. The closest she could come to real satisfaction was participating in the games, and mostly just when the odds were stacked against her and it was just her against an entire team.
For the most part, Jasper spent her downtime with Mother. Though the green gem creature was still skittish and prone to running off and hiding in her alcove when startled, she stayed by Jasper's side otherwise. She associated with other gems, too, but she seemed to favor Jasper. Jasper didn't always speak to her, but that never really mattered. It was almost comfortable, even with Jasper's discontent lingering at the back of her mind like a stubborn weed that resisted every attempt to sweep it aside.
Late one winter night, when the evening's snowfall dusted the rocks with a rare light layer of white and the stars looked like they were softly glowing against a raven's wing, there was a whooshing sound unlike any of the winds that whistled through the canyon. It was followed shortly by footsteps that ventured out for a few paces or so, and then there was that whoosh again and the footsteps were gone. The call of a grackle, a bird that favored the rivers and only migrated to the northern river in the summer, got her attention. With great reluctance, Jasper extricated herself from her bundle of furs in front of the house's contained fire, rearranged them around the green creature who had tucked into her side, and stepped around crafters and hibernators to leave the fuzzy warmth of the house for the sharp slap of the frozen outdoors. While gems weren't affected by the cold like people were, she was still very aware of the changes in temperatures and preferred her place in front of the hearth.
Owleyes, a carnelian with her gem set at the small of her back who had the best night vision, stood over the crack above the alcove where a large, smooth crystalline disk was set upon a pedestal. Her posture was uneven, for one of her legs was shorter than the other and ended in more of a club than a foot. She gave a grackle's click-and-chirrup that was the all-clear signal. Still, Jasper slipped as soundlessly as she could to the carnelian's side and looked down into the crack. Nothing seemed amiss.
"There was that whoosh and the crack lit up," Owleyes began. Her large amber eyes blinked as she glanced up at Jasper; they looked uncertain and worried. "So I turned into an owl and flew over, and the light was coming from the platform. Someone walked out of the light and just looked around before heading back. And she's not a person. I think she's a gem."
Jasper frowned. Wayward people were common enough, but they had never encountered other gems before. She didn't want to jump to conclusions, but they weren't really equipped to deal with other gems. Jasper was the only one who managed to summon a weapon from her gem, and that was only because she'd been foolhardy during a hunt and head-butting an angry, fully-grown male bison during mating season seemed like a good idea at the time. She had been even less prepared for the crunch of skull beneath her helmet's battering surface than she had for the helmet's appearance. "Describe her."
"Cube-shaped dark hair, no winter clothes. Didn't look like any of us. Think she might have been a scout."
The frown deepened as Jasper tried to figure just what she needed to do. A scout might be harmless, but their policy had always been to interact with people, not disappear after getting a good look. It kept relations with people amicable. But a scout for a hunting party just might act like this stranger. She'd heard of different bands of people fighting with each other for resources. Was that what this stranger want, their resources? Jasper didn't know, hated not knowing, but she had to prepare for a fight just in case. She gave a brusque "thanks" and went back to the house to rouse the crafters. They had work to do.
And yet…
A day and night passed without incident or the crystalline pad lighting up again. Paintbrush, a jasper on the slimmer side who adopted art in all its forms from the river-people, chiseled a warning into the walls surrounding the pad. A week went without a flicker of light, and by then Twig and Stoneshaper had enough projectile points ready for another thousand years of hunting. A month went by and they started thinking that it had just been a visit and the strange gem was uninterested in returning. They let their guard down. Mother, who probably had no idea what was going on and was restless from overstimulation, returned to her alcove for privacy.
It was noon when the alcove lit up and Twig sounded the alarm, which was an excited warbling of a grackle. Jasper swore as she gathered up her bison-hide cloak and hunting gear. The cloak was for intimidation, the darts and thrower were to get a few shots in before going hand-to-hand if it came to that. It was awful timing; the hunting parties were out for materials and most of the crafters had gone to the river for more clay for their pots. Most of the citrines had gone to trade with the people who lived in the Mother of Canyons and had taken all but one tiger's eye with them. Jasper had been left with the watch, a handful of crafters who specialized in tanning and weaving, and the smallest members of their little village. It was as if this had been planned. Clever. She could respect that, at least. Jasper swept out of the great house, the remaining gems following close behind with their own atlatls, spears, clubs, and bows and arrows.
They were quiet as they crossed the sandstone to the chasm they'd emerged from. Twig waved and held up four fingers for four strangers and gestured the path the strangers were taking within the canyon. Carnelian, the smallest of her gem and the only one who kept her name, slipped by Twig's side to hand her her bow and quiver. Owleyes, who didn't appreciate being roused in the daytime and glared at Jasper for waking her, changed into an eagle and flew over the canyon to mark where the party of strangers was at any time with a single loop. They were getting too close to Mother's alcove. Jasper pointed out a few of the gems to run ahead to trap the strangers and gestured for Twig, Carnelian, and a hefty citrine named Mouse to join her.
The party that went ahead turned into rattlesnakes and slithered quietly towards the spillway with a speed that was almost enviable. Jasper and her party stalked along the canyon rim, just out of sight and silent as can be. It was their domain, and one they had learned for over a thousand years. The strangers were quiet, too, but they didn't know that stepping just so in the sand at a certain point might turn their ankles, or that some rocks hidden under the sand might crack loudly when stepped on. Jasper could hear one of them huff in annoyance when a hidden rock crunched under their feet. Then the strangers stopped. Right in front of Mother's alcove.
There was a shriek and Jasper nearly froze in shock when she recognized the voice. Who would attack Mother? She jerked her head towards the sound and jumped into the canyon. Her feet met with sandstone outcroppings only briefly as she made her way down. Jasper and her party landed with heavy thuds in the sand behind the strangers. Before anyone could gather their wits, Jasper launched a dart at the part of the wall close to big pink gem's head. It impacted within a hair's breadth of her face and the flint dart point embedded itself in the stone through sheer power, and she spun to face Jasper. Jasper knocked back another dart, one of the metal-tipped ones, and was aiming it at the big pink one's gem when Carnelian darted in front of her.
"Leave Mom alone!"
The strangers' eyes focused on Carnelian, who was practically incandescent in her rage. The distraction was just long enough to allow Jasper a quick assessment of the strangers. Big and pink was closer to her height, but looked soft. Yet, there were muscles under that softness that suggested that it was foolish to underestimate her. The pale, lanky one brandished a spear that looked almost immaterial next to Mouse's heavy, flint-tipped monstrosity. The one that was midway in height between the lanky gem and the pink gem had her dark, densely-curled hair shaped in a cube and her fists took the forms of deep red blocks that looked almost too big for her slim arms. And, finally, there was a small, purple gem that looked like she should have been one of them, for she wouldn't have looked as out of place with the other small gems of their village. And she seemed to be aware, too, of Carnelian being nearly her size. A quick grin flashed on her face.
"'Mom'?" the pale, lanky gem echoed in bewilderment. Blue eyes that looked too big for her face scanned their party and seemed to fix on the earthy, green-brown rhombus on Jasper's chest. The small purple gem's grin faded. "Look… whoever you are, this corrupted gem needs to be contained. It's for her own good."
Somewhere between Carnelian's outburst of indignation and the strangers' distraction, Mother darted around them with startling speed and cowered behind Jasper's legs. Frankly, that told Jasper everything she needed to know.
With the quick accuracy of long years of practice, Jasper hurled the metal-tipped dart at the big pink one's gem. There was a sudden flash of sunrise-pink light and the dart embedded itself in a great pink shield that materialized before it could meet its mark. Twig followed up with a shower of arrows, all of which shattered harmlessly against the shield or were swept aside by the delicate-looking spear. With a growl of frustration, Twig threw her quiver aside and used her bow as a staff against the pale stranger. Until the stranger set aside leniency and used Twig's frustration against her, they might have been matched. Mouse charged forward with flint-tipped spear in one hand and a club hanging off her belt, and the dark red gem splintered the spear's shaft with a single squeeze of her oversized hands. Mouse used what remained as a staff to balance with as she switched tactics and danced and weaved around the punches instead in what might have been a mimicry of the dancing they'd learned from the river people, using her club to attempt to get strikes in when she could. Carnelian, who had learned to weaponize the spin-dashes they could all do, attempted to trip up the strangers by weaving between their legs. But the short purple gem saw her coming and deflected Carnelian with a spin-dash of her own, which sent Carnelian flying into a nearby wall.
Jasper shrugged off her cloak and tossed aside her hunting tools. She could hear the second party stampeding in, but they had less of a chance than her own. The big pink gem seemed to be the leader, and Jasper had to take her down. She summoned her helmet and charged like she had for those bison that made up her cloak, taking advantage of the others' distraction.
It wasn't even a contest. The big pink gem grabbed her helmet and threw her hard against the ground, and shattered the helmet with her shield rammed against the weakest part of it. She rolled Jasper onto her back and pinned her down, and Jasper felt the hard edge of the shield pressed hard against her throat. The metal dart point, broken off from the first shield, was held against her gem. She expected to see triumph, pride, or gloating in the pink gem's dark eyes. What she saw instead was a sad weariness that was almost disarming.
"We don't need to fight," the pink gem said. Her voice sounded like the layers of stone at the Mother of Canyons, impossibly ancient and with a history Jasper couldn't hope to comprehend. "Tell your gems to stand down. Let's talk this out."
Jasper managed a glance at the sorry state of her gems. Mouse's entire form was shuddering and parts of her seemed to be blinking in and out of existence, and she and Carnelian were held tight by the dark red gem. Twig's bow had been splintered at one point and the pale, lanky gem with the too-large blue eyes had her pinned against a wall. And the little purple gem had the entire second party and Owleyes bound in what she guessed were lengths of purple rope. Jasper slumped against the sand-covered dried riverbed of the canyon floor. Defeat tasted foul in her mouth.
"We surrender."
The Mother of Canyons is a gem-specific epithet for the Grand Canyon, which is about 68 miles southwest from Antelope Canyon as the crow flies, or 130 miles if you're driving. There are multiple groups of people who call the Grand Canyon home and have been for at least 4500 years, with evidence of nomadic people passing through 6500 years before that.
Sorry for the delay; real life has been eating me and leaving me dispirited. The next chapter should be quicker to finish.