SONG of EMBER

15

BLACKWOOD

🙜

Ember had entered a world of shifting shapes and shadows—a world comprised entirely of leaf patterns on sunlit moss and blurry half-corporeal things which drifted in and out of view, tricking him into thinking they were real only to fade away a moment later.

The air was hot.

Stifling—muggy, almost.

He wiped sticky sweat from his forehead and stumbled on, desperate not to find his way out of these whispering woods but to find and comprehend the source of that humming. Ky was surely back by now. Would she come looking for him?

There’s a trail, he thought. I can always follow it back.

But when Ember glanced over his shoulder he was dismayed to see that all trace of the woodland path had vanished. The leaves furled on before him, laying a clear passage through the trees, but it ended at his heels.

He supposed it would be possible to turn around and walk uphill until he found the road, and had almost made up his mind to do exactly that when the droning hum ceased.

Ember squinted into the foliage; that faint shadow slipped further away.

“Who are you?” he shouted, hefting the spear.

Pale skin shimmered beneath speckled sunlight—a white hand pressed against the dark, smooth bole of a distant tree, and a gentle breath wafted through the woods.

“Come closer,” came the lullaby sigh, “and you will know me…”

“Show yourself first,” Ember said, but it sounded weak even to him.

“Come…” it whispered. “Come…”

And Ember went, desperate to catch just one more glimpse of the elusive creature who continued to melt into the tangled trees; he told himself, each time, that he wanted one more look—convinced himself that the next glimpse would be clearer, surely, and his curiosity sated. But it—whatever it was—remained just out of view. In all truth, he had ceased to care about Ky Veli's existence, his purpose there, or anything else which had occurred within the past few weeks.

His life, as a whole, had shrunk to this disappearing path and the voice that sang to him from beyond the blackwood trees.

A bubble-like shape floated into his periphery through the streaks of sunlight, quietly followed by another.

Ember glanced away from the path and was surprised to see two pale orbs, glimmering as they moved through the shadows and oddly translucent when in light. They floated gently along the trail, rising and falling, and others appeared from behind the trees and under bushes to follow in their wake…

Summoned by the song.

The song that had summoned him.

Magic.

The air thrummed.

As if someone plucked the air itself, like a stringed instrument—a note here, another there, all vibrating against each other until they made a subtle and silent chorus. There was no music to the shivering of the atmosphere, no real melody, yet it lay beneath the song itself in a gloriously mournful accompaniment.

Ember glanced to the right and saw more luminous orbs kept time with his walking stride. They were all pursuing the same goal, all drifting along the same path down the mountain.

A strange giddiness overwhelmed all rationality, and he began to trot along the trail. The orbs moved at their own pace, some more quickly and others floating along behind. Each was a slightly different color, some as large as his head and others much smaller, and he wondered if they were living creatures or merely the embodiment of the magic and ancient spells that surrounded the Sisters.

"Come… come… to the wildwood…"

A pale green orb danced before him, darting into the shadows.

"Come…"

The voice seemed more an echo than a voice unto itself, and he felt his heart stirring—reaching for more.

"Down… down… to the sea we shall fly…

Down where the salt winds blow…"

A slight breeze rustled the forest, and for a moment Ember thought he tasted a hint of salt upon his tongue. It gave him pause and he hesitated, tapping the path with his fishing spear; if the magic here was strong enough to alter his perception, perhaps it would be best to turn back and wait for—

Wait for—

Someone.

Someone he was certain he should remember.

But here, in the thick of the woods and the sweltering heat, caressed by soft beams of light and a hundred floating orbs, it was difficult to remember much of anything.

"Mortal soul, come, sup with me…

Where the white waves froth below."

And then—like a flash of lightning—one of the floating lights zipped into his path.

He gripped the spear tightly, startled from his waking dream by the blue orb flashing in his face. A dissonant buzz interrupted the song, and the floating light wiggled up and down before him in an excitable manner. It pulsed in time with his own heartbeat, occasionally flashing hues of brighter green or brilliant whites that nearly blinded him. Ember shielded his face with a hand and ducked around it, cringing at the intense buzzing, but the wisp of light moved with him and continued its anxious dance.

"Get away," Ember hissed, poking at it with the spear. "Get!"

It darted up into the branches overhead, still flashing a rainbow of oceanic colors.

"Down… down… down… we shall fly…

From the wild green woods to the shore;

Son of man, come closer to me…

Be a part of me evermore."

Throwing aside all semblance of caution, he ran headlong down the trail, annoyed with the meddling magic and frantic to catch the shadow in the woods before it disappeared forever. The pale blue orb followed relentlessly, zipping around him in dizzying circles, faster and faster until it seemed he was encased in a fence of white light.

Huffing, Ember shut his eyes and pushed past the light, following the shadow by voice alone—he could still hear it calling him under the louder buzzing of the orb. Moments later, the troublesome noise vanished.

When he opened his eyes the wisp of light was gone and he saw the shadow again, fading into the woods.

"Come back," he pleaded, taking three more steps. "Where are you going?”

Ember…

A new voice, familiar, soft and alluring, echoed from behind. The shadows thickened around him, warping into an odd leafy tunnel, and a light shone brightly at the end of it—broad white daylight—beckoning him to take just a few more steps out of the darkness.

Ember…

The forest blurred around him, but when he turned to look he glimpsed a hazy streak of blue.

The orb.

It danced around his head once and then floated into the branches far above.

Even as the melody reached a fever pitch, abandoning words for pure droning music once again, he held out his hand toward the more familiar voice which called his name, reaching, reaching—

"EMBER!"

The sudden shout came like a dagger, piercing his shadow-world and shattering the illusion of stillness to pieces. A cold hand latched onto his, dragging him out of the tunnel and into the light. The trail vanished as he stumbled away, thickets and branches twisting around him like live snakes and snatching at his hair and clothing. Each floating light scattered in a different direction, like startled butterflies.

A burst of noonday sun streaked through the foliage, blinding him. He shut his eyes and swore, but a clammy hand slapped across his mouth, fingers digging into his jaw.

"Hush."

Ky's voice.

Freezing in place, Ember glanced sideways at the sirena. She stared wide-eyed into deeper woods, her ears pricked forward and her gaze roving about the trees.

In the sudden eerie silence of the forest, everything became audible: his heartbeat, Ky's uneven breathing, the grass shifting under their feet—and a faint rustle. Far away, Ember caught another flash of pale skin through the bushes, and a low hum echoed up the mountain. His vision blurred, as if the creature were weaving him another dream world.

With an effort, he shifted his gaze to Ky, who stared with her lips parted in silent wonderment.

Then the sirena blinked twice, shivered, and snarled.

That woke him.

She snatched his hand, and before he could ask her what it was, they were off.

"You must not stop!"

His tongue felt sticky and swollen, and it was an effort to form even one simple word.

"What?"

"When I let go of your hand," she shouted, "you will cover your ears and sing!"

"Why?" Ember shouted back, confused as to why they were shouting at all, and left with only the vague impression that if Ky was frightened by the shadow in the woods, he should be wholly petrified.

"Sing loud and clear! Sing, shout! Any song you know, or nothing at all," she urged him, moving through the underbrush at a breakneck pace, "but you must not cease your noisemaking! Do it now!"

She let go of his hand.

Ember gathered enough of his wits to stuff his fingers in his ears as they ran, clambering over fallen branches and rotting logs and nearly falling several times. It was an uphill climb. He could not think of any song but that which he had heard calling him in the woods, so in the end he yelled Ky’s name over and over to drown out the melody.

The light grew brighter with every step until they burst from the trees and were ascending a steep, grassy slope up to the crags. When they at last reached the summit, every muscle in Ember's body quivered with exhaustion.

He slowed down when he glimpsed a large chasm at the top of the hill, separating them from a little glen surrounded by thick trees and rocky ledges.

Ky did not slow down.

In a few short moments, the chasm would swallow her whole.

"Stop!" Ember shouted, horrified.

But Ky stepped right off the edge—and disappeared, her body melting into the ether like a wandering ghost. Ember stood in the middle of the grassy flat, mouth agape. He took a step back, glancing over his shoulder at the shadowy thickets, and then returned his gaze to the drop-off.

A misty hand appeared out of thin air and waved to him.

Ky’s hand.

He flinched.

Her irritated face popped back into view soon after. As her mouth moved frantically, he caught the word "come" but nothing more. When he made no move to follow, she leaped back into the world of the living and snatched his wrist. He yelped in protest as his hand was yanked from his ear, but before he could think twice they were at the precipice.

He tried to leap—to bridge that impossible divide—but it turned into a stumble and he tripped over his own feet. The sunlight intensified and he found himself wobbling awkwardly in a bed of dense green grass.

Ember sucked in a breath, disoriented by the lack of a sudden drop.

It was as if they had stepped into another time and place as the droning sounds of the forest popped out of existence and a new set of sounds brushed his ears: a few birds singing gently in the trees beside the mountain, and wind whispering down from the heights.

These are the heights, he realized, blearily staring up the face of the jagged mountain. They were somewhere between the two peaks, as best he could make out, but he was too overwhelmed to notice much else.

"We are safe here," she declared, sounding pleased.

Ember's knees weakened and he sagged to the ground, but Ky did not let go of his hand. The trees and rocky mountain and her smiling face all swirled together in a dizzying dance that made him shut his eyes.

"Maker above…"

He lay there for a moment, flat on his back, breathing deeply.

The air felt different here. Cleaner. Fresher. A soft breeze blew over his head, drying his skin and brushing a few sticky curls of hair away from his face, and Ky's amphibian skin was cool and unfamiliar against his. Her fingers tightened; when he didn't respond, he heard her crouch beside him.

"Ember," she whispered. "Look up."

He opened his eyes and was startled to see her face so close to his. She withdrew slightly, pointing one finger up and to his left. He rolled his head in the grass, blinking rapidly until his eyes adjusted to the glare of the sun.

The mountain rose up before them, very steeply, draped in moss and flowering vines. Dead brown tendrils from seasons past created a thick carpet over the sheer wall in spots, but white petals tinged with blue bloomed against the grey-green rock; and when he followed the vines upward he saw that some of them had been scratched away. Not too recently, as the ends were shriveled and dried and a few fresh blossoms had grown over them, but perhaps a month or two ago.

There, etched into the stone, were runes.

Human words.

Ember sat up very suddenly and grasped Ky's hand in his, staring intently at the mossy surface as the blood rushed from his head. Spots danced in front of his eyes and he rubbed them away with his free hand.

"You see," Ky Veli said with an air of pride. "I said that you would see."

A few of the vines were wedged into steep, narrow crevices: two lines, far apart and buried in flowers. Bits of rock had weathered away with the years, but they were still distinguishable as such, one springing up from the softer soil on each side of the grassy clearing. They went up—up—up—rising to a narrow shelf where the glare of the sun became nearly too bright to look at; there, they were joined together by a third horizontal crack in the mountain's face. It was a massive block of stone. If Ember stood side-by-side with the siren, fingers touching and arms spread wide, they still would not surpass its breadth.

"A door," Ember whispered.

"The mountain's door," Ky corrected him peacefully.