Blaecwyns Tale - Part 3

Blaecwyn sighed with relief as she entered Pemberth. It would not be long now. Just this last stretch and she would be home with her loved ones. At this time of night she knew that the twins would be abed sleeping, but Flowlen would be awake. He would be sitting near the fireplace reading a book, as always, and look up when she came in. At first he would be pleasantly suprised, that would quickly be replaced by joy to see his wife home and safe and then... the best part of her welcome home. She smiled to herself, feeling his warm embrace already as her horse plodded along the chilly evening streets. As she rounded the first of the corners she looked up, as she always did, for her first glimpse of home. Something, however, did not seem right. At first she frowned and shrugged it off. A trick of the light, perhaps, it was dark after all and her eyesight was far from perfect. She sank back into warm fuzzy thoughts of her bed and her personal cuddly toy, letting the unease pass along with the cobbles underfoot. The distance closed quickly. Along the street, over the bridge, up the hill and past the manor house. Blaecwyn came out of her thoughts when the sound of hoof on cobbles changed to the softer thud of hoof on mud. She looked up to where her house was... Was. It was not there now. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she looked around. Here was the table for outdoor meals, there the well for drawing water and next to the pile of rubble sat her herb and vegetable gardens. Pile of rubble. Where her house should be. No house, just a pile of rubble. Finally, it clicked into place. Her jaw dropped in disbelief as she jumped from her mounts broad back. She landed with a heavy thud on the soft earth below and ran to the remains of her home, her weariness forgotten. Frantically, she dug through the damp ashes, searching for something, anything, that would indicate her husband and children had gotten safely away. Flowlen would have left her some sign that they were safe. He would have left her some idea of where to find them. She did not care what it was as long as it wasn't.... Her hand closed around a small white object. She held it up to the moonlight and stared at it in horror. The empty eyesockets of a tiny child-sized skull stared back. Slowly, carefuly, she placed it back down. Rising on shaking legs, she backed away. The sightless skull continued to stare, commanding her complete attention. Try as she might, she could not look away from it, nor block out its silent accusations. Only when her foot encountered air instead of a stair and she fell backwards to land in a bruised heap on the ground was the visual contact broken. She turned herself over and scrambled to her feet, a howl of despair breaking forth from her throat to escape her lips and dance eerily through the dead of night as she charged for her horse and threw herself back into the saddle. She kicked the flanks of her steed with a viciousness born of agony and galloped off into the night.