The Storm of Ash

The sky was dark – the sun was all but totally obscured by the black storm clouds. Although there was no rain, thunder bellowed, echoing across the landscape. Lightning flashed on the horizon, briefly casting away the veil of grey that covered the land. The air itself it was wet, so thick and humid that it was almost a struggle to go through. Sounds were muffled by the dense air underneath the expansive sheet of obsidian clouds. But amazingly, it was perfectly quiet, except for the thunder rolls. No bird sang. The wind was rushing immensely fast, but as it was coming behind them they could hear it. All that indicated its presence was the multitude of leaves flying through the air and the leaning trees.

“How far?” Hecate asked Bruce.

“We’re basically there. Just over this hill and then we’re at my house.”

“You’d have come full circle then, I suppose.”

“Good point!” Bruce remarked.

They walked over the stone path, whilst on both sides wooden gates to fields rattled in their hinges, and debris spiralled through the air. They walked past a tree that had snapped clean off its stump. Eventually, they crested the hill and could see down into the shallow canyon that contained Bruce’s house.

“How did you get that? It’s massive!” Hecate wondered, awe-struck.

“Actually, I got it from a favour.”

“Who would give anyone something like that for a favour?”

“Well, the farmer who lived here before me had a job for me. I tackled it, and then he gave his house to me to repay me.”

“You make it sound as if it were no big job.”

“Well, dragon/demon hybrid, I’ve done worse. But what counts is the house.”

They reached the door. Bruce took a small rune from his bag, pulled out a tray from beside the door, and put the rune in, before replacing the tray. The door swung open, and the pair walked in.

“At last,” Bruce said, “Home sweet...” He noticed the fire was burning. “Hold here a sec,” he told Hecate, before walking over to the fireplace. He looked down at the burning logs, and wondered how on earth they had been set alight. Then he heard movement upstairs.

“What’s that?” Hecate asked, hearing the footsteps. Bruce turned to the staircase, and saw... a young girl standing there.

“Hello!” Bruce said, brightly, “What’re you doing here?”

The girl turned and called up the stairs. “Daddy! The man who gave us his house is back!”

Hecate turned to Bruce and mouthed “who?” to him. Bruce raised his hand as if to say “don’t worry,” in reply. He started to walk across the large hall. Down the stairs came a tall, thin man. He studied Bruce, and then gave a sigh of relief and ran down the stairs.

“Mr Brysworth! You’re back. Have we outstayed our welcome?”

“Of course not, Mr... Carter, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Thank you for letting us stay in your home. Have you dealt with the problem yet?”

“Er... yes. But that’s no longer the big problem.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Mr Carter asked. Bruce indicated for him to sit down on the sofa by the main fireplace.

He called up the stairs to summon his family, who came bounding down and took their own places. Bruce and Hecate sat down together on the smaller sofa.

“Okay,” Bruce began, “Your zombie problem is fixed, now. But now there’s something much more important to deal with...”

“Are you sure?” Boggled Mrs Carter.

“We just escaped from it,” Hecate said.

“So... what are we going to do?” Mr Carter asked.

“Quite simple: We need to get as far away as possible. Falador’s north of here so it might be safe; but it’s too busy – we’d have to deal with panicky crowds, especially from that parade thing that’s soon to happen. Draynor might escape the blast but we shouldn’t risk it. Lumbridge is probably our best bet, and Varrock’s deserted. But if those places are closed then we’ll have to go to Falador instead. And we’re looking at long hours of walking here, so your kids better be prepared.”

They sat in silence for a while. Then, Terry said: “Mum, I’m thirsty. Can I have a drink?”

“Go on, dear,” Mrs Carter replied. Terry jumped off the sofa and went into the kitchen.

“What about everywhere else?” Mr Carter asked, “How will they be affected?”

“Witchaven and Entrana will be obliterated. Although as they’re coastal they’ve probably been evacuated already. Fortunately Crandor is a very isolated island so there won’t be any pyroclastic flow, but we’re looking at tidal waves and a blanket of ash that will cover the whole of the southern ocean and everything around the Karamjan sea. Fortunately that storm will actually save us – right now it’s funnelling the ash within itself and keeping it above the sea. Of course, when Crandor goes it’ll pulverize the storm and scatter it across Gielinor, leaving the ash to travel behind it.”

Suddenly, Terry said something. “Mum! Dad! Look! It’s snowing!”

They all stood up and rushed over to the window where Terry was standing. Bruce peered out. Thin flakes of white were dropping in droves from the sky and settling on the ground. Already the ground was covered in a thin layer, and trees were beginning their transformation from green to white. “It’s begun...” Bruce mused.

“Okay,” Bruce began, “We need to decide where we’re going.”

“Lumbridge,” Hecate said, “It’s the safest we can get.”

“Lumbridge too,” Mr Carter agreed, “As long as my family is safe I’m happy.”

“Hold on William,” Mrs Carter said, “Mr Brysworth did say it would take hours, maybe days to get to Lumbridge. The twins make enough fuss about walking to the chapel each week, and that’s what, a few hundred metres? We’re talking miles and miles here! We can’t take a cart – the horses would choke, and so will we eventually. We should try and go to the nearest safe point – Falador.”

“She has a point,” Hecate told Mr Carter. Then to Bruce, “Besides, how are we going to survive the ash?”

“Well, let’s just say I had to deliver a certain someone to West Ardougne, and so I needed a mask. Plus it’s not my first visit. Those Mourners can be quite generous with those masks of theirs...”

“Right, we’ve got what we need, and we know where we’re going. Falador, right?” Mr Carter queried.

“Yes,” Bruce confirmed.

“How long should it take?”

“I can get from here to the capital in an hour or so. But then again I’m an extremely fit man in my prime. You’ve got a baby, two young and restless kids, and we’ll be walking through not just ash but quite likely rain too. This could take... two hours minimum? And almost definitely three.”

“That doesn’t matter – it’s rural Asgarnia and you’re a well-known adventurer,” Hecate pointed out. “There’ll be shacks, barns and all sorts of shelter almost everywhere along the way, so we can easily make ourselves comfortable should we get bogged down.”

“I’ve got plenty of things to eat already,” Bruce said, “In my bag. And you’re their parents – they’ll eat what you tell them to.”

“Right,” Mr Carter concluded, “Let’s go.”

In fifteen minutes they were outdoors, wrapped in warm clothes and with their Mourner masks strapped to their faces. Mrs Carter had her baby strapped in a special bag that Bruce had quickly rigged up from a pane of glass Hecate had enchanted to become bendable, a large sheet of thick insulating wool, and a Mourner mask poking through the top to filtrate the air. As they started off, the baby started to bawl and scream in it’s protective bag. She tried to calm it, but no avail.

“Here,” Hecate said. She took a few runes from her pockets, mumbled something that even without the mask would have been intelligible, and a purple mist filtered through the mask at the top of the baby’s protective embryo and entered the baby’s mouth. Immediately in started to sleep deeply. Hecate looked up at Mrs Carter and smiled.

“Thanks,” Mrs Carter said.

“Do you want me to help with your children?” Hecate offered.

“Yes, thanks.”

Bruce and Mr Carter were talking. “You’re... ah... companion is good with magic, I see.” Mr Carter noted.

“Oh yes, she’s quite a master at it.”

“What kind of magic does she do?”

“Oh, all sorts.”

“What god does she follow?”

“Well...”

“Which god?” Mr Carter repeated.

“Zamorak.” Bruce replied, quietly.

Mr Carter was shocked. In a deeply inquisitive voice he said, “A Zamorackian? How can you possibly pair yourself up with scum like that?”

“She’s not scum,” Bruce retorted, angrily.

“Those people took our world to pieces just months ago. We had to completely readjust our lives for maniacs like them. And now you go and get yourself infatuated with one of them? Just who’s side are you on anyway?”

“No one’s, actually – I don’t follow any god.”

“So all this time my family has been living in the house of a madman who can’t see the light of Saradomin and seduces those of the dark god? If our lives weren’t in terrible danger I’d abandon you right now.”

Bruce suddenly turned and grabbed Mr Carter by the ruff of his coat, pinning him against the wall of a nearby hut. He exploded in a quiet, menacing tone. “Alright you. For all my life I have seen people dictated by pointless, archaic faiths that stop us embracing one another and seeing each other for what we truly are. Hecate is a brilliant woman – she’s kind, patient, and beautiful. She’s spent years of her life underground brewing an army of zombies, barely ever seeing an actual living person – and even more rarely seeing the light of day. And she isn’t doing this for hard-liners that go homicidal at the sight of anyone who follows another god. She’s simply trying to establish a safe place for herself and all the other Zamorackians in this world to live in peace and safety. Can you argue with someone who can give up the best part of their life for that? One more word - one – and I will leave you bound up and trussed to a tree with your mask off. Even if the ash doesn’t get you the coming storm will. So shut your mouth and remember that it won’t be long until boys and girls from all different faiths look at one another and see their equal.”

Bruce released Mr Carter and he slumped down to the ground. The ash was so thick that that whole incident had been completely shielded from the others’ view, even though they were barely twenty metres ahead. Abruptly, Bruce felt a rumble.

“Everyone stop,” he ordered. There was another rumble. This time it was bigger and deeper. Then there was another. And another. And another. And then, suddenly, there was a gigantic boom that swept through the air, surfing on the gigantic rumble that came from below. Very briefly, the storm parted, and the group could see in the sky the clouds being forced into the distance by a monstrous wind. For a brief moment they could see a flash of red in the sky – then the storm returned.

“The volcano has started,” Bruce announced. “The end is nigh.”