SONG of EMBER

23

DELUSIONS

PART II

🙜

Ky fell still—white skin, wide eyes, bared fangs—and in that instant, Ember thought she would fly across the dying fire and tackle her sister. Instead, with a wounded trill that made his ears ache, she lurched away from the light and crawled through the decaying leaves, black hair dragging in the dirt.

“Come back, sister,” crooned Sil, her gentle voice stopping Ember just as he was about to get up and follow. He glanced in her direction and witnessed the ghastliest change of face he had ever seen: her eyes rounded, tongue curled tightly against the roof of her mouth, fangs glinted in the light of the fire and moon, ears pricked beneath her thick red tresses. “Be glad it was I who found you out, for the clan would have you disemboweled for your transgressions.”

Ky retched, beating at her breast until much of the stew had been disgorged, and then drew in three sobbing breaths.

Each movement was fraught with a desperation that tugged at Ember’s soul. The final dregs of fear and disgust slipped from his fingers, and he could no longer find it within himself to hate with any ardor—to despise such a pathetic, stricken creature as she.

He awkwardly shuffled across the flagstones, his heart in his mouth, but had not yet reached her side when she suddenly stood and sprinted for the edge of the clearing.

“Kyveli!”

The lullaby tones vanished, in their place a sharp command.

Ember glanced over his shoulder.

Sil had stood, the embers of the fire glowing near her bare feet, and pointed with an authority which cowed him where he knelt.

“Do not run away again...” she purred, taking a single step, bloody mane flowing around her like water. Her eyes shimmered with malevolent intent. “Come back, wayward sister of mine, and finish your penance. You know you cannot hide from me.”

Scrambling to his feet, Ember pulled in a deep breath—until that moment he had not been aware he was holding it.

“Ky!” he whispered.

Her head lifted.

A thrill swept down his spine as he wondered if she could hear him. Could it be that the well had so much power? Was he present, as a sort of ghost in this memory?

“Ky, run!”

He darted forward and collided—knee-first, then his shoulder as he twisted in confusion—with a solid barrier.

The wall.

He pressed his hand against rough stone, breathing hard.

Damn.

Ember glanced back, careful not to make eye contact; Sil’s bare feet slid through the leaves, red hair trailing, a leisurely pursuit.

“Run!” he begged, pressing against the alcove wall. “Ky! Can you hear me?”

She took a step.

A low hum echoed behind him and Ember instinctively clapped his hands over his ears, screaming to drown out the sound.

“Run, Ky, run!”

With a piercing howl Ky sprinted into the woods, ducking through foliage and disappearing in darkness. A splash followed—the river. Footsteps crunched behind him and an earthy chuckle lifted the hair on the back of his neck.

The forest glimmered faintly, alcove stone blinking through underneath.

Ember stepped back, removing his hands from his ears. The trees rippled, pieces shifting and sliding, becoming unreal in odd patches. Soft moonlight stuttered into a sudden brightness, and he blinked, stunned.

Morning light streamed through the trees, which were themselves altered in shape—more tangled and overgrown, and running down a steep slope—and then everything plunged into darkness again.

The landscape twisted, blinking between starlight and sunshine.

He glanced over his shoulder, baffled—

And choked.

Sil stood nose-to-nose with him. He scrambled backward, flagstones scraping underfoot. The light flickered again, rays of brightness alighting upon her tangle of hair, like a glowing crown.

Something had shifted in her appearance; she stood close enough for him to note a few small scratches which had marked her brow, and her hair was now tangled with brambles and little twigs.

“Oh.”

The sirena licked one corner of her mouth.

His knees went weak.

“How interesting.”

Her mouth matched the sonants; she no longer spoke in the siren tongue, but that of his own people. They were familiar words, half-buried in a thick, tangled accent. When he tried to turn his head, those fell black eyes held him firmly in place.

Panic tightened his throat.

Am I really… here? Or… there? She can’t see me! This is the past. Right?

“I know your voice,” crooned the sirena, tilting her head. “How came you to this place? And where is the dark-haired one?”

Ember’s heart thrashed wildly—the well was broken. He had always been a fool, but now he had found a way to ruin time itself somehow! Would they be stuck here forever, together, in this warped unreality?

The thought petrified him.

Her sumptuous hair had been partly braided and looped about her neck and chest. Purplish juice trickled from the corners of her lips. Her fingers unfurled; a few smashed berries dropped to the mossy stone, as if she had recently been shoving them into her mouth.

She reached out, narrowing her eyes, and grinned.

“Stay back,” he managed, his throat drying out and his hands trembling. “Don’t touch me—”

Her claws grazed the tip of his nose…

And passed through.

She wrinkled her nose and put out her tongue, swaying closer.

“To what name do you answer, little man?”

The forest snapped and bent, a few lingering stars gave way to the sunlight, and they no longer stood beside a dying fire but within that craggy clearing, surrounded by trees and cliffs.

He put a hand to his head and squinted, dizzied by the sudden change. “I—I don’t know—I—”

He hadn’t intended to speak; the sirena’s voice drew the words from his chest.

She laughed, and hummed a quiet melody beneath her breath.

He recognized that laugh.

He recognized the tune.

Down, down to the sea we shall fly,

Down where the salt winds blow…

This was real.

This was now.

“No!” Ember shouted, sprinting across the flagstones and slipping on a wet patch. “Ky—”

His foot plunged down over empty space, struck the corner of a stone stair, and he tumbled headfirst through the loamy soil. The vision winked like a sputtering flame, and vanished.

❧

Ember lay in a heap at the bottom of the alcove stairs, arms outstretched, soaked through from head to toe. He had diverted the flow of water from the well, and it was trickling over the stones toward several books and scrolls. One of the heatless candles had been knocked over by his elbow, but it continued to glow unabated beneath the stream.

Tears streaked his face, pulled from him by the shock of the encounter. He forced his gaze upward, half-expecting to see the red-haired creature looming above him, but the alcove was empty. He could still see her black eyes boring into his skull.

And Ky—

He moaned.

It seemed a cruel thing to Ember to have been brought so close to his former compatriot, only to have her stolen away again—just as he was beginning to feel she was real. Had she made it out of the mountain without him? Was she forever bound to the madness of the Book, or did she, too, wonder what had become of him?

Where is the dark-haired one…?

Those words must have been in reference to her sister.

Had Ky been followed?

If so, for how long, and had she known she was being chased?

Ember staggered to his feet and limped back up the stairs to the well.

“Tell me how to find Kyveli!” he cried, voice breaking, but the well had gone dark and even the sunlight was fading above him. “You didn’t finish! You can’t be finished! Where do I go?”

The only sound was his own heavy breathing echoing around the alcove and the water trickling quietly through the room below.

“Where is the sirena who led me here?” he tried, one last time. “Please...”

He brushed a finger over the powdery dust of the bones, even sprinkling a little into the well, but no brilliant light danced on the water’s surface.

Several minutes crawled by in silence, until Ember felt that waiting on the fickle magic of this room any longer would be a pointless pastime. It occurred to him that he had overlooked his most obvious resource: the books.

“Fool,” he muttered.

Huffing, he turned away from the well and took the stairs two at a time, darting back to the little room where he had left his shoes.

He reached steps to the doorway, grasping the corner of it to swing up and around—

And halted abruptly.

The lady stood between the bed and the wash basin, hands behind her back. Her blonde brows drew together, and she lifted her chin. There was no more winsome smile, no warmth upon her face. Instead, a pair of cold blue eyes glowed brightly in the dimness.

“What have you done?”

Ember reached for his knife, but she flickered, her eyes accusing. A breath of wind stirred his hair and he shivered, grasping the back of his neck.

Her voice whispered from nowhere—and everywhere.

“Tell me, son of men: what have you done?”