Stone Heart

By Cassandra Hamm

Pounding footsteps shook the forest and knocked fiery, autumn leaves from the trees. Gemma pressed against the nearest trunk, the bark’s ridges digging into her bare arms. We found the stone golem.

“Fiske, Korth, you ambush him from the other side.” Uncle Roan spoke just loud enough for her to hear. “Horan, Mert, you stay with me.”

Two men, crossbows in hand, lumbered through the autumn-tinted trees.

Gemma twisted her mother’s ruby ring to still her trembling hands. “What about me, Uncle?”

“Stay hidden.” Roan bared his teeth in a predatory grin. “Today, Gemma, you’ll see what happens to monsters.”

She focused on the scarlet leaves at her feet—some destroyed, others not yet crumpled—but couldn’t avoid the truth. She would have to watch an innocent creature die today. All because her uncle thought it would teach her obedience.

“A monster hunt ain’t no place for a little girl.” The village butcher, Horan, grinned at her. She felt his eyes crawl over her curves, her wild red curls.

Predators feed on fear. Rubbing the ruby, she lifted her chin. “Good thing I’m not a little girl, then.”

“Quiet, Gemma.” Roan yanked on her hair. She yelped. “I said quiet!”

She would be strong like these trees, vibrant in suffering, never to break from his verbal lashes.

Biting her lip, Gemma peered around the tree.

The golem was a dead spot in the autumn glow. Crimson leaves hid his towering head.

She swallowed hard. He is strength itself. Surely, he could destroy her village with just a breath.

Why had he left Fjall Peak and come to Folstad? To kill defenseless humans?

“Now,” Roan hissed.

Gemma stiffened as the men aimed their crossbows at the golem. He hasn’t done anything to you! But she stood, motionless as a tree, as they fired.

The crossbow bolts clattered off the golem’s stone skin. Neck creaking, he ducked under the tree canopy and glanced around. Had the bolts done any damage?

“I’m not here to harm you!” His voice rumbled through her bones, loud but not ferocious.

“Fire!” Roan roared.

The bolts dropped to the ground with no effect. How Gemma wished her skin were impervious to the arrows of her uncle’s abuse.

The golem stepped into a clearing, revealing his full features. Holes passed for his eyes and mouth. “I only wish to pass through.”

“Liar!” Roan readied his crossbow. “Go back where you came from!”

Boulders shifted as the golem shook his head. “I have no home there anymore.”

Gemma’s heart tugged toward the stone man. She recalled red stains around her mother’s lips; the dark funeral shroud and redwood coffin; Roan’s fingers digging into her arm, dragging her away from her beloved house.

This golem knows what it is to lose a home.

Roan loosed an arrow, prompting another volley. Despite the golem’s apparent invulnerability, Gemma flinched every time an arrow ricocheted off his skin. She knew how intent could wound deeper than any physical injury.

Roan reloaded his crossbow. Gemma bolted between her uncle and the golem. “Stop!”

An arrow shaft grazed the side of her cheekbone and bounced off the golem’s chest.

Gasping, she touched the burning line across her face. Blood smeared her pale fingers.

“Gemma, what are you doing?” Roan stepped forward, eyes on the golem behind her. “You could have been killed!”

She willed herself not to tremble. The golem could tear her to bits, but so could these men. “Only because you were attacking this innocent creature.”

“Innocent!” Roan scoffed. “Stupid girl.”

Gemma winced. Her injured cheek wept blood. Horan’s leer had returned, making her cringe.

Behind her, the golem growled.

“Step away from the beast,” Roan said. “Now.”

She gazed up into the golem’s black eye-voids and, somehow, saw something there. Pain. Frustration.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

The golem stared. “Wynnstan.”

She smiled. Such an unexpected name. A sophisticated name.

“Gemma!” Roan snapped.

Whipping around, she glared at her uncle and his men. “I won’t let you attack him again.”

“Look at that thing!” Roan thrust his hand at Wynnstan. “That monster! You’re taking his side over mine? I raised you!”

Bursts of memory seared her consciousness––red welts on her pale skin, jagged words that made her heart bleed. Predators feed on fear, she thought again.

She squared her shoulders. “No, uncle. You’re the monster here.”

Snarling, Roan reached for her, likely to drag her away from Wynnstan as he had torn her from her childhood home. She stumbled back until her skin touched stone. Roan halted, hand still outstretched.

Clutching her ring, Gemma faced Wynnstan. Will I join you, Mother?

Wynnstan’s black gaze was gentle, bestowing respect instead of stripping dignity. She smiled.

Then, inexplicably, they turned and fled through the autumn splendor, away from the monsters.

A bolt whistled through the air and thumped against Wynnstan’s rocky back. “Stop, you fools!” Roan yelled. “You’ll hit her!”

Feet pounding against the fallen leaves, Gemma felt as though she were flying. A smile split her face. I’m free.

Once her uncle’s cries had long faded, they finally slowed. She peered at Wynnstan, winded but unafraid.

“That ruby,” Wynnstan said. “Is it from Fjall Peak?”

Gemma rubbed the scarlet facets of her ring, smearing blood on the gem. “It was my mother’s. I’m not sure where it’s from.”

He brushed her ring, then her bloody fingers. His skin was cold and smooth, not hot and sweaty like Roan’s. She missed his touch when he withdrew.

“It is,” Wynnstan said. “Our gems are highly renowned. I wonder how your mother attained one.”

“Why did you leave?” she asked.

A flurry of leaves formed a crimson halo around Wynnstan’s head. “I’m searching for… home.”

“You should stay in Folstad.” Heat filled her cheeks. “Just for a while.”

“You want me to stay?”

She had seen more kindness from him in a few moments than she ever had from Roan. “I do.”

His smile glowed as brightly as the dying leaves.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Cassandra Hamm is a psychology nerd, jigsaw puzzler, and hopeless romantic who spends most of her time lost in another world. She hosts Instagram writing prompt contests every other month. Her work appears in various anthologies, including Stories that Sing and Bingeworthy from Havok Publishing, Warriors Against the Storm, and Faces to the Sun. She suspects she may one day end up as a cat lady (or the owner of a Warrior Clan).

---

More Stories | Author Website | Facebook | Instagram