Queen of Embers

I. Strangers

Solitude was a balm for the soul. There was only the smell of pine resin in the air as the lone woman split firewood on a stump and the crack of splitting wood, no words required. The axe barely seemed to meet resistance when it struck the sections of log. Full dawn had finally arrived, though she had been awake for hours now. There were geese to be fed, sheep to be seen to, sweeping and scrubbing to be done, thatch to replace, and the low stone wall around the edges of the yard needed repair where a fox had slipped through. Her adopted brother had gone to town to trade furs for a new copper pan, but she didn't mind being left alone. Times like this were peaceful enough that she felt content.

Granted, to call Sakana a town was being generous. It was more of an outpost along Zorion's Wall, the massive fortification meant to keep the kingdoms of men protected from the hordes of Ash Kordh to the north. Sakana was a quiet place, removed from the noise of the world, just the way she liked it. To go further south was to move into civilized lands, where the forests and meadows yielded to the plowed, flat plains surrounding bustling cities. Sakana still had a stunning view of the mountains, great ranges of white-capped, blue peaks that dominated the northern horizon. It was a reminder of home that only ached when she stopped to think for too long.

Work was almost a moving meditation. There was always something that needed doing and she took satisfaction from that. Her scarred hands were not nimble enough to stitch or weave well even after the more than fifteen years since the burns consumed them, when flames lapped up her forearms almost to her elbows and left only charred flesh in their wake. Had it really been that long? It was a surprising thought. Still, there were a great many other ways to occupy her time, preparing for winter even though it was still spring, just past the thaws. One didn't want to be underprepared. She swept some fair hair out of her face where it was clinging to the fine sheen of sweat on her forehead, grey eyes intensely focused on the wood.

This life had become strangely comfortable, as far as it was from who she had once been. She'd taken to using her mother's name more than a year ago, in place of the one she had earned through steel, blood, and fire.

Sorne Thayer was a quiet woman.

There was always talk when strangers were in town, people curious about the dark markings that swirled across her skin and the scars over her body. She'd taken to long sleeves to cover them, even when the weather was warm. It kept her skin fairer than it had been in her youth. Still, being a little too warm on hot summer days in town was a price she was happy to pay if it kept her out of conversations, not that she did much about the markings on her cheeks. She'd earned a reputation as a serious sort who kept to herself, but was always ready to help her neighbors when a spot of trouble cropped up.

Her brother was a more frequent presence in town despite his race, relying on his good reputation as a hunter and neighbor as well as his innate charm. The orc had warmth, particularly to his grin, and a ready joke whenever called upon. Vridash seemed to enjoy the company of humans despite the animosity strangers from the south sometimes brought with them. The border wardens were quick to put a stop to any disgruntled lowlanders, usually with a stern warning. Sometimes, though, Vridash had to use his powerful fists. He'd never once fired his bow at a human since they arrived in Sakana.

Well, except for that one time where a drunk Aitor had balanced an apple on his head. Fortunately for Aitor, Vridash was still the marksman he'd always been, more skilled with a bow than anyone even the soldiers had ever met. He could take out a hawk in a dive, pierce a copper coin tossed into the air. The soldiers said he could put an arrow through a steel breastplate at a hundred yards, and Sorne knew that it wasn't an exaggeration.

She didn't have nearly the same number of problems with outsiders, considering there wasn't a drop of orc blood in her, but sometimes she still found herself confronted for being near him. She'd even taken a few punches for it, left unanswered. People tended to reconsider their choice of adversaries when she didn't flinch.