SONG of EMBER

31

SIL VELI

🙜

In that mossy garden, under the dim shafts of light, surrounded by dripping water and rotting, crumbling ruins, Ember tumbled into the now-familiar darkness of his waking dream…

❧

Alone…

Again.

It was difficult to feel anything, even something as primal as fear, while encompassed by the stifling stillness of the trees. That panic which had set upon him during his first encounter with these woods now eluded him–replaced by a sense of readiness…

She was out there, somewhere.

The red-haired fiend.

The distant echo of her wistful humming should have stopped him in his tracks—and Waking Ember would certainly have sat with his back against a tree and covered his ears, praying that she never strayed too near. But Dreaming Ember felt no such impulse at present.

In fact, he rather wished to find her—to know her nature, know whether she were real or imagined…

And so he wandered, uncertain, through the darkening trees and down a gentle sloping hill. He heard the sound of running water—the first sign of life he had encountered within this slumbering wood. As he reached the bottom of the embankment, he glimpsed a clear current winding through the stones and the swirling mist.

A figure crouched in the waters upstream, her back and pale shoulders turned to him and clawed hands dipped beneath the flow. Then she lifted her palms and splashed the water over her damp hair, which clung to her in crimson tangles.

The humming became a song…

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.

Ember crept nearer, until he reached the edge of the stream. There were no fish to be seen, nor mudbugs hiding in the rushes and reeds. Like the forest above, it was strangely empty.

After a moment’s hesitation, Ember pulled off his shoes and waded in, misty tendrils curling around his ankles.

Down, down, down and away,

Where mountains kiss the sea—

Of all the men who ever have lived

Most favored you shall be…

Silveli took another palmful of water, drinking deep, and then rose.

She turned to him, looking over her shoulder.

“The one who spurned my summons,” she murmured. “Interesting…”

And as he stood there, paralyzed, she devoured him with her eyes.

Water dripped from her lips and chin.

She licked her fingers.

“I confess I thought you one of my kin, cloaked in the skin of a man by means of some dark song.” She squinted at him. “Who else could summon a siren to this other-place, but another siren? Now… I see that you are merely a boy.”

Embarrassment prickled Ember’s neck as she smirked in derision.

“The dark-haired one is not nearly clever enough to lay such a trap. So tell me, boy—what is this place? For why have we been summoned here?”

“Your sister, you mean,” Ember couldn’t help saying. “She is the dark-haired one.”

He knew in the pit of his stomach that it would surely be a grim mistake, seeking answers from such a devious creature, but he couldn’t help himself; if Ky would not tell him the truth, perhaps he could find it out through other means.

You fool—do you fancy yourself clever enough to outwit such a devil?

His determination wilted as Sil’s eyes gleamed in sudden interest.

“What dealings have you with Kyveli, boy?” She swayed closer, pursing her lips—a flash of disgust, there and gone again before he understood the meaning of it.

“None,” he said firmly, heart pounding.

It was true.

Sil sniffed once, long and deep, and swayed so close that Ember could feel her cold breath on his nose. It smelled of berries and herbs, but there was a coppery essence there too. He dared not dwell upon that.

She dipped her head to one side, almost too far—like a listening bird.

“Her scent is thick upon you…”

“I do not make deals with river-folk,” Ember said coolly, folding his hands behind his back and knotting his fingers tightly. “But if we had struck an accord, then that would be no concern of yours.”

“Pity,” murmured Sil, her lower eyelids drooping; it softened her expression slightly, and he clenched his fingers tighter. “Your blood shall be not the first nor the last to wet my scheming sister’s tongue…”

“I know about Bren,” Ember said stiffly, the words tumbling out before he could reflect on the wisdom of them.

He collected himself, but not before her ears pricked.

A fanged smile slipped through her composure.

“Truly? Ha…” The gentle laugh made him shiver. “I am surprised she owned to such failure.”

“She owned to nothing,” Ember said honestly. “I saw you do it: it was you who killed the man called Bren, and fed him to his only friend—or did my eyes deceive me, Silveli?”

Her brows drew together.

The confident smirk was gone; the passing curiosity—gone.

In its place was an annoyance which Ember thought rather dangerous.

“How know you my name?” she demanded, lacing the words with a note of urgency. "Did my sister tell you this?"

He swallowed against the compulsion, biting his tongue and thinking hard before he spoke again. Even in dreams, the desire to prostrate himself before her and confess everything he knew was almost enough to overwhelm him…

But perhaps her power was weaker in this ‘other-place,’ for he managed to keep his composure.

“I know many things,” Ember said cryptically, crossing his arms and looking her up and down; even that was a lapse in judgment, for his gaze lingered too long on the curves beneath her waterfall of hair, and he hated himself for it.

Her fingers twitched. “What power is it which you wield, boy?”

She placed a particular emphasis on the word ‘boy,’ which made him flush again.

“The power of the oracles,” he said slowly, forcing himself to chew the words in much the same way the sirena did—a strained hint of rage contorted her features, which delighted and terrified him. “Of which I am the last.”

Of course Ember had little notion of what an ‘oracle’ was, beyond that they could see into the future—which he had done himself, with a bit of trickery—and also that the servant of the oracles had given him their blessing. However, none of the true oracles were left to refute such a claim–the mountain halls were empty now, and the names and titles left behind by those who came before rang hollow.

Her brows pulled tighter in confusion. “Oracles…? What means this?”

Ember knew what he was about to do was unwise, but he had to know more—more about Sil, or more about Ky—if he was to understand her intentions toward him. And surely this would provoke an answer.

“A question for a question,” Ember said impatiently, pulling on the scant knowledge which he had plied from Ky. “I answered yours, now you answer mine: how is it that you plan to take leadership of your clan, if you cannot even catch a wayward sister?”

Sil shrieked.

Her mouth snapped open, teeth flashing.

Ember lurched backward, splashing through the stream.

Water soaked his clothes and hair.

He spluttered.

The last thing he saw were clawed black fingers lashing toward his face.

❧

Ember lay awake in the darkened hollow, rubble piled on every side and the ruined stone beneath him as he waited for the chilled sweats to stop and his pounding heart to slow. A part of him believed that if he had not woken up before she snatched him, he would have died then and there…

The longer he lay awake the smaller that part of him became.

There was no doubt he had spoken to the sister of Kyveli, in that strange other-place, but surely she was never truly there. Anyway, how could someone kill him in the confines of his own mind? It was still just a dream—his dream—and a dream which was fading, even now.

It was not until he heard a soft scratching sound behind him that he noticed Ky was absent. And so was his pack, which he had been using to cushion his head from the damp stone.

She left me!

Another muffled scratch sent him rolling onto his stomach, scrambling to draw Fishbiter. It was no small feat to do it from that position, and to do it quietly, and being both half-asleep and far from an excellent swordsman, he more or less failed in his attempt. Any element of surprise he might have had was gone, so there seemed nothing else to do but confront the situation head-on.

He took a second to steady his foot on the rise, and then launched himself out of the hollow most inelegantly. Loose rock slid out from under him as he reached the top.

Something moved a few rubble heaps away, backlit by a ray of faded light.

"Hah!" Ember shouted, holding the sword point-out in both hands and taking two sliding steps down the crumbly slope. "Don't move!"

The creature glanced up, and as his eyes adjusted to the dim light he recognized Ky Veli's wide eyes and waterfall of black hair. She had his pack open on the ground beside her and one hand stuffed inside of it.

Then, she turned away, delicately withdrawing her hand and scraping more moss from the stones in an unhurried and unbothered manner which annoyed him greatly. Once she had an entire fistful, she plopped it into the bag.

Embarrassed, Ember lowered the sword and held out a hand instead. "Wait, what are you doing? That’s wet! It’ll rot the leather!"

"The leather," Ky said around a mouthful of greens, shifting her gaze to Fishbiter, "will be drying. We will eat this quickly."

"But—"

"There is nothing else in here," she continued, shaking the pack vigorously.

After a moment of hesitation, Ember put Fishbiter away and stumbled down the rest of the rise. He stopped when he was standing directly in front of Ky.

"Don't take my things," he sighed, "without asking."

"These are not your things."

“Of course they are!”

Ky eyed him coyly. “You took them from the mountain, yes?”

Ember's mouth opened, but he couldn't think of a suitable retort.

"What is a thief to another thief?" And she stuffed a handful of moss into her mouth.

He wasn't sure what to say to that, so he just stood there and stared at her, trying not to smile; something about the way she said it reminded him of their trek up the mountain. It was then that he realized the smell from before—that rank, sweet stench which had plagued them through the halls—was finally gone.

Thank the Maker.

Ember took a deep breath through his nose and let it out in a relieved sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. His muddled thoughts and lingering paranoia had rolled away like a mist along with the remnants of his dream, and everything felt fresher and clearer for it.

"What?" Ky said, flicking another piece of moss into the bag and gathering up the leather straps.

He allowed himself a tiny smirk and rubbed the back of his neck, relaxing. "Nothing."

She smiled at him and sauntered past, slinging the pack over her own shoulder. Something about the sight struck him as funny—and he was surprised by the sound of his own laughter.

Ky pattered ahead of him.

"It is a new day, Ember!"

He trudged after her, hooking a thumb under the leather strap which bound Fishbiter to his back. "Is it? I can't see the sunrise, can you?"

She didn't answer, but she did begin to hum.

And, after the echoing silence of his dream and the twisted song of the sister, her simple tunes fell upon his ears with the same delicious sweetness as a spoonful of honey upon his tongue.