SONG of EMBER

43

SPELL OF TIME

🙜

Sunlight warmed the backs of his eyelids.

For a short while Ember was back at his cabin, resting in the freshly turned soil of his own little garden, without a single care to burden his soul. The only thing missing was a chorus of birds chirruping their good mornings from the trees.

He yawned wide, stretching his arms above his head, and then sat up to rub the sleep from his eyes.

It took him a moment to remember where he was…

His heart sank.

The sirena was nowhere to be seen.

Rather than call out for her at once, Ember shuffled on his knees to the nearest tree root, resting his palm on glassy amber and enjoying the soft magic that flowed from the sap to his bones. He embraced the resin-bound tree root for a moment, pressing his cheek against the cool crystalline surface, and took several deep breaths.

The presence of the tree gave him a measure of calm–or perhaps the calm had come with sleep, and the relief of finally confessing that which had been gnawing persistently at his sanity.

Still…

She wouldn’t have gone on without me, right?

Ember thoughtfully strapped Fishbiter to his back and splashed through the stream in his bare feet, hopping lightly to the other side.

“Ky?”

There was no response.

He searched until the sun had just appeared above the summit, calling her name and carefully hacking through the tangled growth with Fishbiter, peering into every crook and hollow. Occasionally he glimpsed a flash of pale skin, or heard her shifting footsteps, but she never showed herself.

It soon became apparent that she was avoiding him.

The exertion began to take its toll, and Ember paused to wipe sweat from his brow. He had just decided to take a rest beneath one of the pear trees when he heard a faint snick.

He moved in that direction, silent on his bare feet, and ducked deeper into the orchard. A swirl of black hair lay on the ground nearby…

He followed it with his eyes until he saw her curled toes, and part of her ankle.

When he peered into the hollow, he fell still.

The sirena knelt on the ground beneath one of the oldest pear trees, near its tangle of roots, and smashed the fruit into her mouth. Fangs snapped, tongue flashed, juice spattering the ground. Bits of fruit and dirt clung to her claws, and her lips were glossy with drool and juice.

He stared in wide-eyed wonder as she finished off the pear and furiously licked her fingers, her palms, all the way up to the crook of her elbow.

Slavering.

Desperate.

Starved.

She emitted a choked sob, beating at her breast until her skin was bruised.

Ember started forward, but then hesitated, retreating further into the tangle of trees as she snatched more of the rotting fruit from the leafy soil and stuffed it into her mouth. She gulped and chewed with gluttonous abandon, covered from head to toe in slimy nectar.

A chill shivered down his spine.

“Ky,” he whispered at last, unable to watch any longer.

Her ear flickered and her head snapped around to face him; her eyes were so round that the faintest hint of sclera was visible. Her dark-stained tongue flashed out, smacking more of the juice from her face.

Ember felt himself flinch away.

He almost placed a hand on Fishbiter’s pommel, but decided against it with an effort of will. It wouldn’t do to put her on the defensive–he had already found her in a compromising situation.

“Hullo…”

She swallowed audibly.

And then glanced down, relieving him of her feral stare.

“Hello, Ember.”

Her long lashes fluttered, concealing her eyes as she awkwardly grabbed her arm with sticky fingers. She said nothing, but shrank into herself; her unusual silence made him even more uncomfortable–if possible.

Driven by some instinctual understanding, he reached up to grab one of the low-hanging fruits and offered it to her. She reached out and took it in her sticky fingers, but her lower lip trembled.

“I said… a lot of things, last night,” he mused, flushing faintly. “I meant them all. But–I don’t know, about staying here forever. I’ll give you a chance to change my mind, without bespelling me. Deal?”

She took a small, hesitant bite, chewing very softly.

He saw restraint, now, where before he had thought her unmannered.

“...deal,” she mushed around the pear.

“First, I have a question for you," he said quietly. "Why won't you consider staying here, with me, instead?”

But she was already shaking her head.

“Ember will not be living forever. And I should be very lonely after you are gone away to dust.”

He remembered the gaunt siren, trapped forever with his useless spoils of war, scraping foul moss from the walls of the mountain ruins.

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

And it was true–he hadn’t.

Even if they made it to the other side of Sisters Mountain together, their peculiar friendship would be a lopsided one: for she would never die, and the days would wend on until at last he grew old and frail while she watched him succumb to the slow death of age.

Is it better to leave this haven and risk falling into darkness, perhaps even to die in the attempt, than to spend all the rest of my days in idleness, wanting for nothing yet knowing nothing?

If he allowed himself to linger one more day, that one day could easily turn into two days, and then three, and then a week. Forever drunk on sweet berry juice and beholden to the magic of the tree.

He would waste his youth, life, and breath beneath this mountain, surrounded on all sides by war-ravaged spells and safeguarded only by the grace of the garden. And Ky would be left alone in the end, to a misery he dared not contemplate–perhaps even to become a thing, like that twisted creature he had slain.

To imagine anything more was merely a dream, and a fool’s dream at that.

❧

Resigned but at peace with his decision, Ember trudged across the stream to the place where he had abandoned his shoes, pack, and sword. He crouched for a moment to lace up the shoes, and then slung the pack over one arm as he meandered upstream to where he had left his shirt.

It was still hanging over the branches, clean and dry.

He slipped into it before strapping on Fishbiter; the thought of having to use the sword again filled him with an unshakable loathing, but he was nonetheless grateful to have it should he need it. It had become quite familiar to him, and despite his lack of prowess with the weapon he found a welcome security in its presence—the bane of his enemies…

And of all who would dare lay a hand on Ky Veli.

“We’ll keep her safe and find a way out of here,” he whispered. “Together.”

Fishbiter shimmered from point to guard.

“You won’t harm the sirena, right?”

But the sword remained dark in his grasp.

Ember frowned, shaking it slightly.

“Right?” he repeated firmly. “Protect Kyveli. She is our friend.”

The runes glowed faintly, and then faded again; he could not ascertain whether it were in accord or dissent, but he felt it rather an ominous acknowledgment of his request.

After quenching his thirst with a few gulps from the flask, Ember knelt beside the stream, rinsing it thoroughly and filling it to the brim again. When he had finished, he glanced over his shoulder.

Ky stood silently behind him, her arms loaded with unripened pears. She had cleaned herself up quickly, and only a faint stain blemished the corners of her mouth.

He arose without a word, scrubbing his hands dry on his trousers.

She held out a reddish pear.

"It will be a shame, to be letting these spoil."

"Indeed," Ember said quietly, taking the fruit. He tucked her harvest into the open pack one at a time, careful not to bruise them.

When he was finished, he unfolded the map on a bare patch of dirt, smoothing out the creases and squinting down at the runes.

The golden tree and the garden lay squarely in the middle of the mountain.

Beneath it, paths that they would never tread again.

Above it…

A long corridor.

It appeared to be a thoroughfare, for it would take them past another maze of rooms and branching halls.

"Another kitchen might be here—" he pointed "—maybe more food or water, and a place to sleep. But we won't be able to reach it until tomorrow at least."

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and grimacing up at the pinkish dawn through a web of amber branches. They would rest on cold stone that night; he hadn’t even left, and he was already missing this bountiful garden.

Ky plucked up one strap of the leather pack and smiled at him. He had known her long enough to tell that it was a forced smile, but it lightened his heart regardless.

"Then I shall make the journey sweeter."

And she began to hum.

Some of the dread weight lifted from his shoulders and Ember picked up the other strap, letting the leather pack hang between them.

Together, they crossed the stream for the last time and approached the crumbling doorway. White blossoms from overgrown apple trees hung down so low that Ember had to brush them aside. Soft petals dusted his shoulders and settled into Ky's hair like fragrant snowflakes.

Last chance to stay, Ember. Last chance to go back.

His stride faltered and one of the branches swung back in his face, scratchy twigs and gentle blossoms brushing against his skin. Ky waited, her humming growing more anxious and urgent, but she did not attempt to persuade him. And Ember knew that to insist upon staying behind would be the most selfish thing he had ever done in his life.

He took another step, and then another, and then they were at the doorway.

For a moment he feared that another magical barrier would prevent Ky from entering, but they passed beneath the archway without so much as a breath of resistance.

Ky met his gaze briefly, uncertainty glimmering in her eyes. The hall outside was much darker than the garden, but he could see a light shining far off. From there, the tunnel ran on indefinitely.

As they stepped toward the glowing path, Ky's hummed tune grew familiar: it belonged to a simple rhyme he'd heard many years ago and he caught himself humming along once or twice—each time he stopped, the sirena drew him back into her melody as only a siren could, casting coy glances in his direction.

At last he understood that she had chosen a human song on purpose.

"Time is beauty and is pain, 'tis bitter and 'tis

Sweet;

To some it is a fragrant bloom,

To others cruel fate."

Ember balked at first, having no wish to make a fool of himself, but when she fell back to humming again he accepted her invitation and hesitantly mumbled the second verse:

"Oh, time is soft and time is slow and never shall

it be

That time stands still and time is kind

To wayfarers like me."

Ky's smile brightened and she skipped a step, swinging the pack between them.

"Come and wander thro' the gates into the

heather'd moor

And sing of times that always are

And times that never were…"