SONG of EMBER

33

THE REMNANT

PART II

🙜

The first unusual thing Ember noticed after passing the downed pillar was a single lantern hanging from the boughs of a stone tree. Ruddy light glowed behind misted glass, unwavering but dim, and he soon noticed others hanging higher in the latticework: blue, green, and golden. The sight reminded him of the orbs in the Sister's Footstool—a manmade substitute for nature and wild magic. He wondered if the resemblance was intentional; they seemed out of place, their iron-wrought rungs an ill fit for the stone branches. A few were broken, and Ember caught a glimpse of soft spherical lights within. He thought little of the phenomenon after the ever-burning candles in the oracle's sanctuary.

More interesting were the little rubble heaps and piles of forgotten relics that began to appear in shadowy corners; weapons, pottery, and other things that seemed to move in the corner of his eye but vanished or stilled when he glanced at them.

Metal coins clinked and shifted underfoot, and the fey lights grew sparser as they went on. Gradually the rubble heaps became treasure piles—things that would have been useless as a barricade were scattered among the trees and mounded up along the walls to either side; gilded pottery, piles of jewels, and polished stones gleamed under a thin layer of dirt.

Spoils of war, he thought bleakly.

Ember had almost made up his mind to draw Fishbiter when he tripped, kicking something hard out of the way as he fell. He reached for Ky's hand, but she took another step as if she hadn't heard a sound. Shocked, he found himself sprawled on the cold stone floor.

He froze for a moment as the shadow-birds grumbled overhead, and then caught his breath and pushed himself up on scraped palms.

The siren walked on, undisturbed.

A rusty sword-hilt shivered a few paces to his left, broken off at the haft—utterly useless (except, he thought wryly, to frustrate the clumsiest of intruders), but encrusted with precious gems like everything else in the hall.

He took a breath to whisper for Ky, but before he could speak her name a musky stench swept over him; his eyes watered and he blinked, stunned. It was dark and potent, reminding him of wild berries, thorny brambles, and crushed leaves underfoot… but it had a distinctive bitterness. Like tree sap and tanning vats.

Ember recognized it at once.

As he scrambled to his feet, the sirena let out a trill of delight and sprinted ahead, scattering coins in her wake. The clamor she raised sent a wave of disgruntled squabbling through the flock of shadow-birds, and Ember ducked as three of them rushed over his head.

"Wait!" he whispered, hurrying after Ky, but she was just disappearing over the top of an enormous treasure mound. A few stray coins clinked behind her, falling into metal pots and pinging off the stone floor.

Swearing under his breath, Ember drew Fishbiter and scrambled up the pile, nearly whacking himself in the face with the blade.

Fool, Ember! Careful you don't cut your own head off!

Once he had hoisted himself to the top, he hesitated—struck dumb—to stare at the vision before him.

The hallway broadened out below him in a circular shape, tree-pillars skirting the edges, their stone trunks buried in tremendous mounds of precious stones and gold. Hilts of swords, knives, and daggers stuck out of each bejeweled mountain, and the small floating lights drifted here and there… but they gathered most thickly around the pool in the center of the room. A small fountain of water burbled up from the floor, surrounded and somewhat contained by crumbling stone steps. Where they had fallen away, the water seeped out and trickled down between the chinks in the stone.

Beyond the fountain was heaped another pile of treasure, highest of all, which rose halfway to the domed ceiling. At its summit sat the shadow of a great chair, which Ember recognized as belonging to one of the dining halls. It was battered and broken, but stared darkly down upon the room with an air of ramshackle dignity.

The scene made him shiver.

At the rim of the fountain crouched Ky, immersing her face wholly in the water and splashing it over her pale arms and the back of her neck. Little lights swirled around her, soft and warm.

By the time Ember reached her, he had untied the flask and she had looked up from her revels, water dripping from her nose and brows.

"Smell anything strange?" he murmured carefully, dipping the empty flask into the burbling water.

She took a deep breath in through her nose, her eyes rolling back and her lashes fluttering. "Hmmmm."

And she licked her wet lips.

But that was all she said on the matter.

Ember…

He flinched, pulling the overflowing flask away from the fountain and seating himself on the crumbling stones. Ky splashed more water over her face, murmuring to herself.

"The voices are many here… many spells, much magic… and I can hear them all."

The dazed complacency in her tone reminded him of her dreamlike state in the mossy halls.

"Do they bother you?"

She ignored him, wiggling her fingers under the fountain and licking the end of her nose.

Suddenly angry, Ember shook the wet flask with a vengeance, scattering droplets across the room. It did nothing to catch Ky's attention, but the excess water splattered over a dark patch on the stone, pulling his attention to the floor.

He tied the flask to his pack and leaned down, pressing two fingers to the damp spot. His gaze wandered to another about a pace away, and then another.

Footprints.

"Ky," he said under his breath, glancing among the piles of forgotten treasure. "Are you finished?"

A wet snuffling was her only reply, and he glanced over his shoulder to see her blissfully gulping from her entwined hands. She lifted her face after a moment and sighed in ecstasy. Sympathetic relief washed over him, threatening to distract from his discovery.

He shifted and glanced away, trying not to breathe through his nose, or so much as think about that smell. It hung thick in the air, and he could taste it on his tongue. Though he had little hope she would hear him, he mumbled, "When you've done—"

A faint tink echoed down the hall: metal ringing on stone.

Ember bolted upright.

"We need to leave."

Ky took another drink from a cupped palm, eyelids fluttering shut.

"Quickly!" He could see nothing lurking beyond the treasure pile they had clambered over, but a few little lights swirled in the distance, as if something below had disturbed them.

The sirena eyed him for a moment, and then stood languorously, water dripping from her fingers.

Once she stepped after him, Ember sprinted for the mountain of gleaming jewels at the far side of the room. He stuffed Fishbiter back into the scabbard, crawling hand over hand and wincing each time metal shifted and clanked. He was halfway to the top before he glanced over his shoulder and realized that Ky was still at the bottom, looking back.

"Ky!" he whispered, as loudly as he dared.

The powerful aroma drifted over them again, briefly incapacitating him.

He held his breath, alarmed.

Ky whimpered and reached up, grasping the hilt of an ornate knife which stuck out of the pile. It shuddered and pulled loose, crashing to the ground. Ember cringed at the echoes as Ky searched for another handhold. She climbed as if she moved through honey instead of dusty air—slowly, delicately, with the aspect of one who was stuck in a very confusing dream.

Horrified, Ember dug his toes in and descended the pile. When he was close enough, he shoved his shoe in Ky's face.

"Grab it," he offered hoarsely.

She wrapped a thin hand around his bare ankle and reached up with her other hand, and together they ascended the treasure mound. He did not dare look back, for fear that whatever was coming was already upon them. They had only to be silent, and to keep moving, and perhaps they would escape its notice.

But once they were both safely on the other side, Ember was met with a crushing disappointment: the treasure spilled down into the doorway, leaving a space barely wide enough for a small child to crawl through, let alone a grown man. He contemplated sliding down and digging with his bare hands, but when Ky went suddenly rigid, ears flicking, he changed his mind and pressed himself into the lumpy pile, barely breathing.

The sirena curled into herself on the downward slope, one arm gracefully draped through the leg of the chair and the other tucked against her breastbone. Her breaths were shallow and her eyes roved here and there, never seeing him, always moving.

Her lips twitched, forming words that Ember could not hear.

He reached for her hand again, but she made no move to take it.

Instead, he grasped Fishbiter's hilt, partly to keep his fingers from shaking and partly to ready himself for a quick draw if necessary.

Before he could decide what to do next, a new sound echoed through the room.

A long, wet sniff.

Swallowing, Ember readjusted his fingers and clenched his chattering teeth.

It repeated itself several times, each time growing louder and more drawn-out, until at last something drew him to look; morbid curiosity, perhaps, or a sense of doom. Ember pulled himself upward ever so slightly, until he could just see over the top of the pile.

The dread odor that seeped into his nostrils would have sent Ember to his knees, had he been standing. His mouth dried out and all will to flee left his body.

A hooded specter crouched near the pool, thin white arms submerged in the fountain, like a ragged ghost. As stooped and bony as the creature appeared, he could still tell it would stand head and shoulders above even Alden, the burly tavern-keep, if it were upright. The tattered cloak was a dark moldering green, unnaturally preserved in its miserable state. Worn trousers were strapped in place by the blackened leather straps of rusting armor. Bits and pieces of scavenged metal covered the miserable creature, accentuating its inhuman appearance. Gnarled black claws protruded from its scarred bare feet…

A man, yet not a man.

All this he observed in a moment, for in the very next, several things happened at once: Ky scrambled over the pile with a little cry; the creature gave a loud sniff and jerked its head upward, staring at their hiding place; Ember drew Fishbiter with a loud metallic scrape; and the shadow-birds overhead shrieked and flapped and rose from their branches with a roar like rushing wind.

A dark form swept over him, blood streaking his white knuckles.

"No!" he shouted heedlessly, scrambling for the stone at his belt.

Before he could reach it, the storm of shadow-birds descended from the ceiling and three more wounds opened across his back. He collapsed on one side, yelling in pain, and slashed wildly with Fishbiter—though he knew in the end it would do nothing to save them.

A weak whistle from Ky pierced the swarm of foul magic, and the shadows dispersed just long enough for Ember to drag in a gulp of air and push himself up on one elbow.

Blood dripped from Ky's brow.

And then the shadow-birds lifted from the mountain of treasure.

When he glanced back at the cowled figure below, it had pressed both hands against its naked, sunken chest—and a hoard of the grey shadows swarmed him, flapping and twittering and shrieking. The creature took a visible breath and all the world seemed to inhale with him, sucking the air from Ember's lungs and filling the empty space with tangible fear. Before he could decide whether to dig for the doorway or stay put, a low hum rumbled through the floor.

Fishbiter flashed blue and fell from his twitching fingers. He flattened himself against the mound, covering his ears with a short cry as searing, burning pain slithered through every vein in his body.

His eyes watered, but through the blur he could see everything in the room vibrating around him. A few loose coins were shaken from the treasure pile, clattering down to the floor, and numerous rusty weapons scattered about the hall began to glow. The firefly lights scattered and winked out of existence. The stone at his hip slowly faded. Even the dim lanterns that hung, flickering, from the boughs of the trees retreated from that awful drone, their light shrinking until it was almost dead.

Darkness shuddered over the hall.

And the ghostly birds continued their dance, drifting ever closer until at last he could no longer distinguish the cowled creature from the nightmarish fiends that encircled him. They were one and the same.

A writhing, seething shadow under the mountain.