SONG of EMBER

38

THE MOUNTAIN'S BLOOD

🙜

Something flashed far overhead.

Ember squinted so hard both his eyes watered, and finally noticed a few glimmering gems near the crown of the tree. They were small and round, or perhaps they only looked small and round because of the distance. Fruit, he thought. His eyes failed him, and streaks of golden light smeared everything together; each color winked out now and then, sometimes replaced by a different color higher up or a little to one side.

A gentle rustling in the leaves behind him pulled his attention from the tree.

He turned to see Ky, her lips parted in wonderment and her black eyes wide to catch every fleck of golden light. Purple juice stained her face—even her teeth and her tongue—like a child after a summer's day spent frolicking in the berry fields.

Ember laughed, and she wrinkled her nose at him.

“Berries.” He grinned, gesturing to his own face. “You’re wearing them.”

She frowned, licking the corner of her mouth. “As are you!”

“Mmfh,” he agreed, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “True enough… have you ever seen anything like this place?”

“Not in my life,” she murmured. “I am hearing stories sometimes, of a great tree, but never think to see one myself.”

“More siren stories,” sighed Ember, gazing up at the tiny patches of sky between the branches.

Ky gave him a sideways glance, but made no remark.

“Do you think it’s the same tree from those stories of yours, then?”

“I… am not knowing this.” Ky licked her fingers, narrowing her eyes at the tree. “How many can there be?”

Ember shrugged. “Maybe there used to be more. I don’t think anything would surprise me after—”

“Ember,” Ky whispered, tilting her head to stare at the uppermost branches. “Look!”

He did, and when he followed her gaze he glimpsed something moving far overhead. A tiny shadow below the fruit—or so it appeared from where they stood.

“It’s one of those biting things, isn’t it?” he grumbled, putting Fishbiter away in favor of the stone at his belt. But the shadow-bird, if indeed it was one, did not move.

“I am thinking it is dead,” Ky said shortly.

He glanced at her, surprised. “Why?”

“It has no song.”

Ember glowered up at the shadow. “What if it strikes when our backs are turned? Suppose there are more?”

“I see only two,” she assured him, pointing to another branch.

“All the same…”

The sirena let out a sudden piercing whistle and Ember flinched away, clapping a hand over his ear. As he did, a faint chittering echo drifted down from the branches: the unmistakable warning of an angry shadow-bird. It stirred slightly, shadowy form wavering in and out of view, but neither moved to attack them.

After a tense moment, Ember realized it couldn’t move—for the tree had the wicked thing firmly in its clutches. Half of the shadowy mass was lodged in sticky golden sap, and as it fluttered its size diminished slightly and the light of the tree branch intensified.

It was trapped, like a fly in a honey jar.

He found the spectacle oddly disturbing, and the memory of Hunter’s words rang in his mind. There's magic in the very air we breathe—some of it foul, I grant you, but some of it fine.

Though he had seen as much for himself, Ember suspected that not all of the ‘fine magic’ within Sisters Mountain had been corrupted beyond recall. The lady of the oracles had not harmed him, and perhaps this garden was yet another refuge, guarded by the tree.

Ember smoothed his thumbs across the polished stone, and then held it up to the sunlight. He knew at a glance where it had come from.

"Ah!" Ky cried excitedly, snatching it from his hand.

Ember leaned in close and bent down to her level, gazing through the amber. Its own glow was brightened and sharpened, and behind it he could see the branches glittering with that crystalline substance.

They were one and the same.

"Amber."

Ky handed the stone back to him. "Amber?"

"Pitch, tree sap. I wonder," he mused, "if this 'wild magic' is what makes the mountain come alive, or if the mountain is giving life to the tree…"

Many gnarled roots were bunched around the base of the tree, and a stream flowed through the garden from one end to the other. The water didn't appear to originate from the tree, but it did pool around the bottom of it. A few roots arched across the water, and several emerged from the soil beneath them. He knelt beside one, rather afraid to touch it but drawn to it nonetheless.

"I cannot tell you," Ky said loftily. "It has been here too long. But it is a deep magic, and I like it."

Ember carefully tapped the glassy golden substance with a fingertip: it was as hard as stone, unlike the sticky sap which had caught the shadow-birds. The root delved deep beneath his feet, merging with the mossy cave floor and carrying with it that golden glow he had noticed upon first entering the mountain.

The statues—this resin—is what those warriors were trapped in!

For a moment, he stared at the root in horror.

Then he touched the sap again, pulled back by a strange longing that ran deeper than his fear. After a moment, he rested his entire hand on it, soaking up the faint and resonant humming of the tree.

No. Not trapped…

Shielded, perhaps.

Protected.

One of their own had summoned this glowing sap, this blood of the mountain, out of the ground to shield his fellows.

The touch of the cooled syrup made Ember realize just how tired he was. Whatever magic flowed through it was both earthy and peaceful, and he thought to himself that if he had to spend an eternity frozen in time, it would not be so dreadful if he were sheltered by this tree. The battle-weary warriors likely had no choice, but Ember ventured to guess that their dreams had been pleasant and their souls well-looked-after. True or not, the notion brought some small bit of ease to his unhappy memories of shattered stone and dying screams…

Splash!

He twitched, looking up.

Ky was already crouching beneath an arched tree root, rinsing her face and arms. The shallow water source flowed around her, meandering over broad flat stones and little grassy patches where the rock crumbled to soil.

"It is warm!"

Ember dipped his hands into it for a drink, and was startled to find that she was right. It was not unpleasantly warm, but neither was it cold. And when he tasted it, it filled his mouth with a delicate, sweet flavor that reminded him of crisp apples.

"Ahh…" Ember sat down and grinned, tugging off his shoes. "So it is! I could do with a bath."

"You could," she confirmed with a little sniff.

He shrugged off the pack, unbuckled Fishbiter's leather strap, and set aside the sword before rocking to his feet and wading in. Ky was already padding further downstream, ducking under tall burled roots and hopping over the lower ones.

Ember watched until she disappeared, and then decided to wander upstream and around the bole of the great tree. He had not gone far when Ky began to hum. It was soft and loose, and had a simple distractedness to it that reminded him of a tune a farmer's wife might hum while toiling in her garden.

Satisfied that he had earned at least a few moments to himself, Ember gratefully began stripping off his soiled clothes, pausing to rinse his shirt in the flowing water. Old bloodstains mingled with fresh grime and gore, and he made a face at it before scrubbing it against a flat stone. Black debris floated loose and washed downstream. The cloth was sturdy enough for a fisherman, but had weathered an inordinate amount of abuse under the mountain.

Eventually, he knew, it would no longer serve its purpose.

By the time Ember had completely undressed, he happened upon a hollow basin of sorts nestled in the roots of the tree. The water was warmer there and an amber glow rippled under the surface.

He sighed, tossing his clothes over one of the roots before splashing in and submerging himself. The warmth soothed his weary bones and drew the ache from his muscles. It was a delightful sensation, comparable to none other; all tension, fear, and lingering disgust was pulled out of him by the healing water, like a poultice drawing poison from a bee sting. As minutes passed in silence with nothing but the gentle noise of the stream to bother him, his ribs loosened, his heartbeat slowed, and his eyelids drooped. If he had ever felt so secure, it must have been as a child in his mother's arms, for he could not remember it.

Ky's humming floated back to him in the calm, just a few notes here and there…

Ember found a crooked root near the basin's edge and rested his head on it, wishing nothing more in that moment than to lie there under the light of the magical tree as his worries melted away, and listen to the sirena's otherworldly voice for an eternity.

❧

"Ember!"

He snapped awake, sitting up. Water sloshed around his chest and it took him a moment to remember where he was—and who was calling his name.

"Ah…"

Footsteps splashed behind the bole of the tree.

"Don't come here!" he shouted.

Sudden uncertainty flushed his face.

The steps paused and Ky whistled a few impatient notes.

Ember hurriedly grabbed his shirt, scrubbing himself up and down with it. Then he stumbled out of the basin, wringing it out a second time and draping it over his shoulder. He inelegantly tugged on his wet trousers and sloshed through the stream, heart pounding.

Ky grinned at him, fangs and all, when he appeared around the twisting root. He stepped to one side, tossing his shirt across the branches of the nearest bush to dry.

"What is it?"

She shrugged one shoulder, tugging on a lock of wet hair and looking rather mischievous.

"I am wondering where you are. You are very quiet."

"I fell asleep," he admitted.

The sirena tilted her head, observing him like a curious bird, and then whistled a few more notes. She had only whistled once or twice since their first encounter, and it was such a pure, clear vibration that he couldn't keep himself from smiling.

"Had your fill of water?"

"Hmmm," she intoned. "Are you drinking your fill of sunlight?"

He lifted a hand, watching the light and shadow illuminate the thin webbing between his fingers.

Never…

Ky beckoned him with a quick nod before walking away.

Ember followed slowly, watching her work the water through her hair with soft, wet fingers. When they reached the flat stones where they had first emerged from the orchard, Ky hopped over an arched golden tree root and plopped herself down.

"Come, sit."

The sirena patted the stone, droplets scattering in the air. Shallow water flowed around her and she stretched out both legs, curling her toes with a satisfied grin.

As requested, he sat, but before he could say anything the siren was already speaking again.

"The water is very good here," she declared. "I think there is some magic living in it."

"Only stands to reason." Ember glanced at the thickets and overgrown trees, and then up at the fading sunlight. "I can't think of anything I don't like about this place."

"Mmmm."

"No birdsongs, though," he noticed absently.

They sat in silence for a few moments.

And then Ky let out a gentle squeak.

Ember glanced up just as Ky leaned forward, her eyes flitting away. His fingers twitched toward his neck, but he dropped his hand as soon as he realized what had caught her attention.

He hadn't undressed since washing his clothes with the oracle's pitcher and basin, and the scars on his back were now entirely visible. The silvery-white marks the Book of Echoes had left on Ky's face were so faded that he hardly noticed them anymore, but suddenly he could look at nothing else…

Ky blinked once, throat flexing.

Before he could think of a way to break the silence, she gave the water a vicious splash, showering them both, and then bounced to her feet and pattered downstream.

"I want fish!" she called, wading into deeper waters and poking her fingers under every rock and bush.

The sirena hummed a cheerful tune, doubtless meant to lure any unsuspecting meals from their hiding places—it would have worked on him, he thought—and he watched her sway this way and that, occasionally dipping her fingers into the water to investigate a shadow or sitting down in the lazy stream to wet her face and arms again.

And he wondered what manner of treasure could enchant a creature of enchantments herself, and why she desired it with such a passion that she had forsaken everything to pursue it—and, furthermore, if anything good could come of what must be such a terribly powerful magic.

She glanced back at him once, as if she had heard a whisper of his thoughts, before resuming her hunt among the tree roots and stones.

Ember pulled the stone-light from his belt and turned it over in his fingers, glancing up at the liquid gold suspended far above him. The daylight had faded to a soft evening glow, glimmers of sharp light refracted here and there, and half of the garden had already grown dark as the sun slipped behind the 'two heads' of the summit.

But the tree itself remained aglow, and would not let the shadows hold full sway in the unremembered heart of Sisters Mountain.