Breathe in the Embers
Part 3
After lunch, Martin found himself wandering alone into the woods. There was a river nearby, the counselors had said so, and he fully intended to find some solitude there. Talking with Margaret and her friends had been fun, but it also wore him out. Some time alone with a book to recharge would do him some good. So he meandered down some well worn trails, found himself an enormous rock in the middle of the river, and sat himself down on it to get lost in Middle Earth.
Almost an hour later, stormclouds started to roll in. Martin didn’t even really notice until the first raindrop fell onto the page he was reading. Then he looked up with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation. He loved the rain, but right now it was about to interfere with his reading time. If only books were impervious to water…
They were not, however, so he hopped down from his rock to some of the smaller ones, then across them to the bank of the river. By the time he reached solid ground again, the rain was coming down steadily. It was going to be a downpour in minutes at this rate! Martin silently debated taking his time to enjoy the rain, and hurrying back to ensure the contents of his backpack, to which he added his book, remained dry. His debate became futile seconds later.
Blinding white obliterated his vision, accompanied by an explosion that stripped bare his senses. Martin was flung backward, body tingling, small pieces of debris peppering him as he lay insensate. Darkness was all he knew for a long time. When all you know is darkness and silence, it is difficult to tell the passing of time. After a while though, an eternity as far as he knew, Martin became aware of a steady drumming all over him.
His eyes blinked open but were blinded once again, this time unused to the light, diffused though it was through the roiling black clouds overhead. Rain hammered down, the growth of the storm and escalating wrath of the downpour the only sign that at least a few minutes had passed in unconsciousness. He should be freezing after that amount of time, but warmth surrounded him, and he slowly became aware of a loud crackling sound.
Panic reared as he recognized the bright orange glow coming from all sides. Martin bolted to his feet, flames tearing at the trees on all sides. A particularly large one between him and camp was shattered, blackened, another victim of the lightning strike that had knocked Martin out.
“Oh shit…” Martin breathed, taking a step backward. The fire wasn’t spreading that quickly, the downpour and soaked foliage keeping its progress slow, but it was still growing. He turned, making his way carefully across the rocks this time, their surfaces slick. He paused halfway, safely on his reading rock, and surveyed the forest fire behind him. The flames had devoured the bank in the few minutes he’d been crossing, teetering right at the edge of the short drop off down to the water. He gulped. If he’d woken up a minute later, he’d be dead now. Even this far away, he started to cough, the air filled with smoke, tears streaming from his eyes. He’d have to circle wide around the fire, then get back to camp. There had to be firefighters on the way, and Margaret knew he’d come out here, in case the Counselors missed him and wanted to go searching. His need for solitude wasn’t desperate enough to cause a mass panic over. Now though, Martin couldn’t stand the idea of anyone risking their lives to come out here and find him.
Turning away from the fire, Martin planned a crossing of the river the other direction. The current was strong enough, the water deep enough, that he didn’t want to risk just jumping in. Weighed down by his clothing, if he couldn’t touch the bottom, he could be carried away and easily drown. Instead he judged the distances between the larger rocks, how flat and sure of a surface they provided, and steadied himself. It was then he noticed upstream.
An older tree had leaned slowly over the river as it aged, and now practically joined the two sides. The fire had eaten away at the base, charring it to black, before climbing up the ancient wood. Martin held his breath in silent plea, but it cracked once, twice, then fell. The tottering ancient collapsed, its burning length stretching from one bank to the other, the fire skipping with joyful malice across it.
“Angels, eagles, at this point I don’t care.” Martin muttered, bracing for his first jump, sudden urgency driving adrenaline through his blood. “Just something goddamn make this nightmare end.” And he jumped.
An immeasurable distance away, on a world riven with fire and toxic fumes, a place of abyssal blackness and incinerating light, two eyes snapped open. Sharp, white teeth were revealed in a predatory grin, black lips peeling back from them. “There you are.” she breathed, hearing the desperation in the plea, feeling the tug of one soul that needed another. She looked across the distance that separated them, as only her kind could, and watched as the young man took that fateful leap. And she watched as his foot slipped. And she watched as his body tumbled into the frigid water, flames encroaching from all sides. Finally, satisfied that she was indeed needed, she stopped watching. And then she was gone, leaving an emptiness in her world where she’d stood moments before.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Water flooded a mouth open in a surprised gasp, the shocking cold driving any remaining breath from his lungs. Martin was drowning in moments, choking on water that dragged him down with its weight, and tore the thoughts from his mind. All he knew was desperation, all he felt was panic. He’d die out here, and they wouldn’t even know. They’d still look for him, still risk their lives, possibly even die, and he would already be dead. It was a cruel twist of fate he couldn’t even fathom, that his pointless death might even condemn others.
And suddenly, the choking pressure was gone.
A new pressure gripped the front of his shirt, Martin hauled bodily from the river, the suffocating cold replaced with oppressive heat. He gasped, coughed, choked, head rolling limply, eyes raking across the stormy sky. Giddy gratitude was swiftly joined by curiosity, and Martin raised his head to get a look at his savior. It was Margaret, he was sure, no one else had that strength in their grip. At least no one who would have bothered to come out here for him.
Any expression of gratitude died in his throat as Martin locked eyes with his savior. They were the blue of a summer sky, but not in a human way. Across their entire surface was a gentle sapphire, no pupil, no whites, no iris. Yet they gazed back at him. He could tell they did by the weight of their scrutiny, so much heavier than the water which just surrounded him, or the tonnage of his sodden clothing. The fact that this figure held him aloft with ease in a single hand, even with the added weight of damp clothing, was not lost on his addled mind.
“Martin Kumalo, you called, and I have come.” a voice stated, a strangely matter of fact manner to take in such circumstances. He knew the figure spoke, but was far too befuddled by her appearance, for it was indeed a her now that he bothered to notice, to actually listen.
She was nearly six feet tall. She had to be. The hand gripping him was only at neck height on her, and his feet still weren’t touching the ground. And though she was probably one hundred and thirty pounds soaking wet, her body lithe and slender, she held him aloft with ease, muscles taut and honed. Black hair flowed down, framing her face, tangling occasionally around the pair of slightly curled, obsidian horns that sprouted from her forehead. A delicate eyebrow was raised, those alien eyes considering him, then he was set down upon his reading rock.
“I heard your call so I know you can speak. So speak up kid, I don’t think you have all day.” the woman insisted, her lips parting in a grin. They were slightly darker than the midnight of her skin, which only showed as blue where the firelight struck highlights from it. Her lips were pure darkness though, as was the inside of her mouth past the gleaming white teeth. Teeth which, he tried to ignore, came to sharp points. “I am here to save you. Is that a service you would ask of me?”
“Goddamn obviously!” Martin exclaimed, shaking some of his shock off. “I’m set to die of hypothermia at this rate.” he glanced at the nearest bank, engulfed fully in ravenous fire. Then he looked at the further bank, steadily being eaten by the spreading flames. “That or dying of asphyxia, or even more fun, burning to death.”
“Well I’m glad to have found such an astute and desperate soul.” she replied cuttingly, arms folding across her chest. “That first one was for free. Everybody gets one, and you spent yours so I could make this offer. One request you have of me in exchange for an eternal bond between us. From this day forward I shall be yours, and you shall be mine. Is the price of this bond for me to save you?”
Martin almost blurted out that yes, of course it was, but he hesitated. He recalled his dying thoughts, the last things to go through his head as he sank into the river. Not that he would die, but that his stupid, pointless death would kill others too. Then his gaze trailed over to the forest, to the camp that lay through it. The busses had dropped them off and left. There wasn’t enough transport at the camp to evacuate quickly, and the fire was rolling in that direction as well. “No.” Martin insisted, turning his gaze back to the strange woman. He couldn’t think of her as a demon, he wouldn’t, or he’d never have the courage to say what he was about to. He’d never have the courage to enter into this mysterious pact if he thought it through. “I want you to save everyone.”
The demo… the woman laughed. It wasn’t a pretty sound, however melodic her voice, it grated on his mind and heart. “Everyone?” she asked, voice and smile filled with amusement. “You’ll sell to me your soul if I save everyone?”
Well there it was, stated plainly. He’d been trying to avoid thinking through the implications of her statement in light of her nature, and she’d clearly avoided the phrase before as well. Now though, there was no denying it, anymore than he could deny that he needed to go through with it. Her smile widened, hungrily, and Martin realized she knew it too. It was why she’d allowed that damning phrase to slip through those lips in the first place. “Yes.” was all he said, a whisper of a reply, uncertainty warring with strength.
“A fairer bargain I have never made, for most ask for truly paltry things in exchange for their essence.” the demon replied, holding a slender hand out. He’d call her bearing delicate if he hadn’t seen the strength it carried firsthand, her entire form a deception intended to trap others. “You request that I, Lithuega, Alith Hren, She Who Weeps Beneath the Bleeding Blue Sky, the Starsung Flame of Endless Breath, save everyone? And in exchange you, Martin Kumalo, promise to give yourself utterly unto me?”
Martin stuck out his shaking hand, surprised at how quickly and easily he managed the movement, and gripped hers confidently. The answering pressure was strong, but clearly holding back, capable of crushing his bones if she so desired. “I do.” he answered, flushing as he realized the phrasing of his reply. Lithuega just grinned wider, he felt a heat form where their hands touched, then the world was quickly sucked away by a vortex of shadow. And though nothing but smoke stretched in every direction, and heat bloomed in the endless nothing, Martin managed to smile, and he felt a pair of lips match the expression, two sets of eyes alight with the same victorious glint.