Melissa's Arc

Chapter 1 of 7

Melissa heard the hammer before she saw the man. Somewhere in the Eyeless Reach, stone cracked and shattered. Each blow could be the one that killed her lover. He stood frozen out here as a statue, turned to rock by her own eyes, and she had crossed half the Reach to find him. Now a hunter was smashing petrified people apart, digging gems from their hollow chests. She pulled her hood low and kept moving. Broken statues littered the field. Faces, hands, a child's arm, all snapped clean and picked over. She could not tell which of these had once been living. She refused to think her lover was already among the rubble. A low growl stopped her. From behind a shattered figure rose a huge dog, tall as a horse, with feathered wings folded across its back. Its brown coat was matted with stone dust. The hunter's beast. It watched her, ears flat, but it did not attack. Beside it lay a coil of crimson vine, thick with thorns, staked to the ground. The dog's hind leg was tangled in it. It had strayed into the thornvine and could not pull free. The hunter's voice carried across the field. "Leave it. That mongrel's more trouble than it's worth." He came around a tall statue, a sledgehammer over one shoulder. She knew his gear at once. She had bought supplies from the same forge, the village blacksmith with the gray beard and the leather apron, Gareth Stone. He had sold this man his tools. He had told her, quietly, over the anvil, which way the hunter had gone. Melissa faced a choice. The hunter had not seen her eyes yet. She could run and search the field alone. Or she could stop him now, before he swung again. She knelt by the trapped dog instead. "Hold still," she whispered. She worked the thorns loose from its leg, careful, bleeding from her own hands. The dog did not bite. When the last vine fell away, it stood and shook itself free. The hunter raised his hammer at a nearby statue. "Enough," Melissa said. He turned toward her voice. She lifted her head and pushed back the hood. Her eyes met his. He stiffened mid-swing. The hammer slipped from his fingers. His skin grayed, his arm hardened, and in one breath he was stone, mouth still open. His last blow never landed. The winged dog padded to her side and pressed its head against her arm. It had chosen her. Melissa stood among the ruined figures, breathing hard. The hunter was finished. But she looked at the field of broken statues around her and felt the cold truth settle in. She had stopped him too late to know. Any of these shattered stones could be her lover. She would have to search every piece.