SONG of EMBER

37

REFUGE

🙜

"Is that a tree?”

Ky leaned over the map beside Ember, poking the inked symbol with a claw.

“It looks like a tree,” she mused.

“Can you make the light any brighter?”

The sirena retrieved the stone-light and blew on it gently, holding it close to the creased parchment. Both of them had agreed that the first and most reasonable thing to do that morning was search for food, even if it meant a detour from their path to the Plains Gate.

“So, we’re here, probably…” He tapped the spot, then moved his finger along the hall. “Pretty near the center of the mountain, I guess. But there don’t seem to be any places for sleeping nearby—not until we get a bit closer to the other side. And nothing that looks like those kitchens I found. But if there’s a tree, maybe there’s a… I don’t know. Garden of some sort? Greens, maybe?”

“Hm.” Ky stabbed the parchment again. “I am wishing there is a river there, with fish.”

“Well, let’s not get too greedy,” Ember sighed, sitting back and dragging his fingers through his hair. It was getting rather wild–which made him wonder how long they’d been wandering the mountain—but attempting to tame his curls with Fishbiter seemed a poor use of such a fine blade. “But I’d prefer some fish myself.”

The thought of freshly cooked meat made his mouth water, particularly after the foul-tasting moss he’d forced himself to eat. Now even that would seem a blessing. He folded the map and stuffed it back under his belt, yawning and getting to his knees. He felt sick to his empty stomach and his body was bruised from sleeping on stone, but he didn’t complain.

Better not to remind Ky how hungry she was—not that she was liable to forget.

“I suppose…” He yawned again, slinging the pack over his shoulders and buckling Fishbiter into place. “We’d best be off.”

He said it more to himself than to Ky, for while he was rested and knew full well that the only chance of finding sustenance was to continue onward, the last thing he wanted to do was trudge on through the darkness on an empty stomach.

As if he had grumbled aloud, Ky hummed two soft notes. Some of the hunger pangs eased, his knotted muscles loosened, and the lingering fogginess of sleep faded from his eyes.

“Thanks,” he muttered, and she seemed surprised to be acknowledged.

A smile touched her face as she fell in step beside him. In this way, they continued down the winding hall, Ember pausing occasionally to glance at the map when they came to a crossroads and Ky humming all the while, sometimes taking an extra hop to keep stride. He thought he recognized the melody from his dream here and there, but it always wandered into another before he could be certain.

Nonetheless, the dream reminded him of his family, and thoughts of his family put him in mind of bygone days, and he soon found himself entirely lost to pleasant old memories he had not allowed himself to dwell upon since his sister moved away.

He didn’t notice that Ky’s humming had stopped—nor that she was no longer walking alongside him–until a loud and terrified shriek split the corridor: “EMBER!”

“Aahh!” he howled, clapping his hands over his ears and spinning around.

Ky stood with her arms raised, palms-out as if pressed against an invisible wall. Her mouth hung open, eyes wide. She shoved, then smacked a different spot to no avail.

He let his hands fall and sprinted back toward Ky.

“Ember,” she huffed frantically, pounding a fist against the nothingness. It made no sound, but some force prevented her from moving beyond that barrier. Her lip trembled, then curled and she bared her fangs, glaring at the empty space. “I cannot follow.”

Ember stopped before her, passing a hand through the space beside Ky’s head.

He felt nothing.

“Hmm.”

He stepped through—

Ky grabbed him, throwing both arms around his body with a desperate gasp.

Stumbling backwards, Ember tried to put out his own arms for balance, but Ky had pinned them in place and would not let go. Her crushing strength surprised him.

“Ky?” he grunted, managing to wriggle one of his hands free of her fierce embrace.

She released a trembling hum. It shivered through his chest, filling him from head to toe with a protective warmth, and she squeezed more tightly. No female creature had ever thrown herself at Ember in such a fashion, nor held him with such ferocity, and for a moment his mind went blank. He stood very still, feeling her heart patter frantically against his ribs.

Then he awkwardly ruffled her hair with his free hand.

“It’s all right, Ky,” he mumbled, blushing furiously. “We’ll figure this out…”

“Do not leave me.”

Her voice was muffled against his sleeve.

Ember slowly worked his fingers through her oily tangle of hair, flinching slightly as he touched the tip of a cold, membranous ear.

“I won’t do that,” he said quietly. “I promise. And I don’t break my promises.”

Her grip loosened and a soft sigh cooled his skin; he shivered and grasped her hand, pulling it away from his waist—although in truth, wished her touch to linger. She stepped back slightly, lacing her fingers through his, and her black eyes darted to the unseen wall.

Ember stepped through again, holding onto her tightly.

“Ah!” Ky cried as their hands locked in place. “No!”

A faint, unpleasant tingle shot up to his elbow as she tugged him back.

“Don’t panic,” he insisted as calmly as he could manage—but his own heart was pounding hard, and not merely from their predicament. Her musk was overpowering, and made it difficult to think rationally.

So, that siren was trapped here, he reasoned. A flicker of pity swept aside his horror for the thing. It made sense: a man must have enchanted this hallway, perhaps to give any remaining kinsmen time to flee, or to waylay a group of sirens a thousand years ago.

But if Ky could not pass through it, what would he do? He could never leave her behind–not now–but he had to eat something soon or he’d starve. She would starve.

He could go on ahead and find some food, and bring it back to her…

And then what? Keep bringing her food until you die? She will outlive you, you fool! You’d have to find somebody and tell them about her… and there’s no guarantee that you’d make it out of this mountain alive, or return with food at all.

Ember was already contemplating the unpleasant fate that might await him with a hunger-mad sirena for a companion when Ky let out a high-pitched squeal and covered her mouth with her hand.

Her face had turned a deathly shade of white, and she stared through him in bleak horror. He knew then that the same thought had entered her mind.

“Come here,” he suggested hesitantly, tugging on her hand.

The sirena approached, still clutching his fingers tightly. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, swallowing any lingering embarrassment, then muttered, “Let go.”

She hesitated, and then threw her arms around his waist again.

“No, no,” and Ember tucked her cold hands between them. “I’m going to try something.”

He encircled her with both his own arms, holding her as close as he could manage and covering as much of her body as he could with his own. He tried not to think overmuch about what he was doing, but a small part of him very much enjoyed the closeness and on the whole he felt terribly vulnerable.

A pleased hum informed him that she had caught on to his idea, and she made herself as small as possible, pressing even closer as he backed toward the barrier.

“Stand on my feet."

She shifted her full weight to his leather shoes, rising up to the tips of her toes, and he shuffled backward through the invisible wall, bowing his head so that his chin brushed her damp head.

A clear ping like a tiny bell echoed above…

And they passed through, together.

Ky exhaled loudly, shoulders drooping in relief.

“Ah! See?” Ember declared with forced cheerfulness, ruffling her hair again—something he would not have dared to do a few days ago. He rather liked it. “We figured it out.”

She stepped primly off his shoes and dragged her claws through her hair, neatening the strands he had mussed.

“Yes,” she whispered weakly, her eyes darting all around the hall. “Now, let us never be speaking of it again.”

He watched her a moment longer, trying to decide whether to be offended, and then shrugged.

“As you like.”

Ember took a swig of water and handed her the flask, wiping a few drops of sweat from his brow. But as soon as she finished and he had fastened it to the pack, she reached out and took his hand in hers with a pleased hum—and did not let go again.