SONG of EMBER

51

FROM THE DEEP

PART II

🙜

Ky was well used to erring in both thought and purpose—always she had suffered the scorn of her sister and the many elders of Clan Veli—until some whim of the winds, be it fair or foul, had guided her footsteps to the valley below Ember’s mountain. Even now, the ill-fated trust she once placed in her sister had shown itself once more in the dreams of a mortal man. That trust was her greatest failure, and it stalked her wherever she trod—a mistaken confidence which had ended in the death of the only elder who found her worthy of small kindnesses, in a choking cloud of blood and entrails, in the dregs of a bitter soup.

Her lip twitched.

No. She will never lay claim to it—to him. I will see to that.

One of Sil's many adages returned to her, then: fear was merely a hindrance. Ky must embody the confidence she envied if she was to unbury those true things which the lost elder had promised her—secrets which had long lain forgotten.

The air stirred with the muffled sounds of crinkling parchment.

Ky flickered an ear, annoyed.

Suddenly a dull pressure encircled her upper arm, yanking her back to the present moment.

She opened her eyes, fangs bared, hissing as the rush of clamorous voices vanished with her focus.

“...Ky?”

A blurry face clarified before her.

Ember.

“Were you asleep?”

Ky hesitated, her tongue against her teeth, and chose the harmless lie: “Yes.”

He relaxed, sitting back on his heels and dragging his fingers through his hair.

“Hah. Sorry to startle you, but I’ve been looking over our map again, and…” He shrugged carelessly. “If luck holds—which I suppose so far it has, given that we’re still alive—I might have found something to take your mind off your troubles.”

She sat up, combing her own hair with her fingers, and sniffed. “I have no troubles.”

“Oh, come off it!”

Ky turned to Ember and was surprised to see him glaring at her in clear annoyance.

“I know what’s bothering you, so there’s no use pretending.”

She stiffened, but the alarm ebbed as swiftly as it had come. If he knew her true intentions, he would be far, far away, and running still.

Instead, he shifted closer.

His frown gentled.

“I am sorry we haven’t found your treasure yet, Ky. I know it's why you came here, how much it meant to you, and maybe there’s still a chance. I don’t want you to be hungry all the time, either… so, it’s in my best interests to help you find whatever you’re looking for. You see?”

Ky blinked.

“But!” He lifted a finger. “As I said, I’ve been looking over this map, and I think—well, get up and follow me.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see soon enough,” he promised, shuffling to his knees and strapping the pretty sword across his back. “It’s not far.”

“What is not far?” she murmured, rising and brushing the dust from her grey skirt. “Where are we going?”

"To celebrate!"

"What are we celebrating?"

He finished hoisting the pack up over his shoulders and stood there for a moment, tilting his head at her with a sudden smile. "We're almost out of here, that's what! Only a few days more of dust and darkness… and then—ah, sunlight!"

Ky could not feign a smile in return, but Ember turned and trudged down the hall, beckoning with a wave of his hand.

"And sunlight," he said more seriously, "is a thing worth celebrating."

"I suppose," muttered Ky, twitching her ears and shaking her head as she tried to catch another strain of the whispers.

"We'll be alright, Ky."

Ky shut her dry, scratchy eyes for a moment.

What would she do if the gate to the forests beyond did open for him? His wish for her to accompany him into the bright sunlight was only eclipsed by her potent desire to keep him by her side, beneath the mountain, until she had sated her hunger. If he hearkened not to her pleas, then what was she to do? Break her vow a second time and sing him into agreement?

You have done it before.

But never again could she mangle the mind of her Ember: his anger, tears, and bitter words haunted her, forcing her to carefully weigh and balance every decision she had made from that point forward.

More urgently, if the path was barred, would they not starve to death? Could they somehow return to the garden? That passage had almost killed her once…

She touched the scars on her neck, and shivered.

She needed time—to think, to decide.

And now that their path together was nearing its end, time was in short supply.

❧

It took them almost a full day to reach Ember's 'surprise,' and when they did, Ky was not overly impressed by it.

Another door stood beside the road—which had shifted from smooth polished stone into something more like the cobbled human streets along the coast—and it appeared to be hewn from great pieces of polished oak, which had been bound together with beveled bars. An iron ring was affixed to one side, reminding her of other doors which she had seen, and other nests of men.

It was strange that mortals thought such trappings offered some protection; perhaps it would dissuade a clever bear, or another man, but a siren's tongue could not be stilled by a simple latch.

"Open!" Ember cried, a welcome distraction from her unwelcome thoughts.

The door did not move.

He frowned, stepping closer, and repeated the command. Then he took the iron ring in one hand and gave three slow raps upon the door. It moaned and squeaked, yet did not budge. When at last he placed his fingers against the oak, perhaps feeling for a hidden mechanism, it quietly creaked inward.

"Oh." A pink hue crept across Ember's cheeks and the tips of his ears, and he shoved the door open with an embarrassed hem. “It was already open. Well, that was easier than I thought it would be…”

He held the tree-stone aloft, casting its light upon a solid wall of barrels and crates. A few of them had been propped up near the entrance, but the whole room smelled of dust—and food. Ky scampered ahead with a cry of delight, throwing the lid off a nearby barrel and cramming her hands into it.

Dried fish.

An acrid tang of smoke clung to the barrel. When she took a bite, the meat turned to tasteless ash in her mouth. She coughed, and tried to swallow, but it was chokingly dry.

"Here—" Ember tossed her the flask and kicked the lid off another barrel.

Ky silenced her coughs with a few gulps, and then padded across the room to Ember. The barrel was packed with straw and glass jars. He reached inside, pulling one out and brushing the dust from the surface.

Ky inspected it.

"Honey," he said triumphantly. "And that's not all—"

But Ky had already removed the lid and was shoving honey into her mouth. Crisp honeycomb and dried herbs had been packed into the jar, mostly fragrant purple flowers the elders of her clan referred to as laahana—the drowsy petals. They flavored the entire gooey meal with a dreamlike potency. The other foodstuffs had mostly gone ‘off,’ as Ember put it, and so they had to make do with the honey alone to preserve what remained in their pack.

By the time they had finished, Ky had nearly forgotten her many woes.

"Ugh." Ember pushed a half-empty jar across the tiles. "The first bite was nice, but I do feel rather ill…"

"Ill?" Ky licked her fingers and scooped out another handful.

"Man was never meant to eat so much honey in one sitting."

"Hmm," said Ky, her senses singing in delight at the sweet syrup, crunchy wax, and seemingly endless supply of it. "I am of the siren-kind, and we eat what we please."

"Here, you can have the rest of mine."

Ky finished his jar while he explored the pantry, and when he returned he was carrying two bottles made of dark glass in his hands and wearing a delighted grin. She recognized the shape at once, from their first and last meal together at his wooden nest by the river, and eagerly held out her sticky hands.

"Wine!" he announced smugly, handing her one of the bottles and sitting cross-legged on the floor beside her. "The cure to every ailment. I told you this would lift your spirits, didn't I? Admit it. Your Ember is practically a sage."