SONG of EMBER

51

FROM THE DEEP

PART III

🙜

He removed the cork with a hollow pop, and Ky did the same. Ember lifted his bottle, but instead of drinking from it, he held it out and waited, staring intensely.

Ky lifted her chin and blinked at him, tipping her head.

What did that signify?

"Cheers," he said, nodding at her bottle.

Comprehending, Ky quickly gulped at the fermented berry juice before imitating his motion. She twitched as Ember leaned forward and tapped the bottlenecks together with a pleasant clink.

"To siren treasure!" he exclaimed suddenly, taking a hearty swig.

A shiver worked its way from the base of Ky's neck to the tips of her toes. Before she could determine whether he had meant it as a mockery, he lifted the bottle again. "And to very aged wine."

Ah! Cheers to that which is good.

Ky lifted her bottle and clinked it against his, enjoying the wispy note which hovered in the air.

"To fish!" she said rather bitterly, still disappointed from her encounter with the first barrel.

Ember let out a startlingly infectious laugh and downed another mouthful.

"To fish!" he agreed. "And—"

"Honey," Ky said, clinking his bottle and swigging again.

"Honey! Hah, yes. And to the bees, who make the honey. And—"

"To the ocean."

Ember sobered, clinking the bottles together.

"To the ocean…" His expression brightened somewhat. "And the tree, in the garden."

"To the tree," Ky relented, a pang of regret stifling her joy.

When they had cheered everything from spring flowers to the first snows of winter, and Ember and Ky were both sat in silence attempting to think of the next worthy cheer, she took a moment to observe her companion.

The wine, she noticed, was beginning to have a very agreeable effect upon Ember: he was more congenial than ever, unguarded, enthusiastic. It had no such effect on Ky, that she could tell—for a moment she worried that this too was an effect of the drink—but it did make her ears buzz and her fingertips vibrate most pleasantly, as before. She felt very alive, and was happy to share another uniquely human experience with Ember.

"To…"

He hesitated, wrinkling his forehead as if the appropriate words had escaped him. His blue eyes pierced her, like the sky reflecting in a frozen lake.

"To us," he said firmly.

Ky held her breath for a moment, wondering.

All thoughts of the distant whispers flew from her mind.

He extended the bottle.

She completed his cheer with a faint clink.

"To us…"

Having said his piece, Ember fell very still, reclining against one of the barrels and letting the mostly-empty bottle rest beside him on the cobbled stones. Ky hummed. After several moments of silence, he slipped the rest of the way to the floor, and his breaths grew deeper and softer.

Ky lifted her bottle once more, though Ember was not awake to share her cheer.

"To men," she whispered, draining the rest of the berry juice in silence and in shadow.

❧

Night had fallen above the two-head mountain, and the caverns had cooled. Ky sat beside her sleeping Ember, awake in the darkness, listening to the otherworldly echoes. Strange that he had made no mention of them; perhaps they were meant for siren ears alone. Cold, quiet resolve slipped into her heart while he rested, and yet she waited—she must be certain he would not arise.

Go to them…

I must go to them.

Ky brushed a hand across Ember's scruffly beard. She wondered, not for the first time, at how different it appeared from the smooth and hairless faces of her kin. Coarse, bristly, but not—she concluded—unpleasant to touch or to look at.

She inhaled a draught of his musky scent, straightening the cloth of his simple tunic.

Must arise… seek them out…

She dug her claws into the material for a moment, sniffling, and closed her eyes.

If she were his friend, she would certainly awaken him—Ember, lovely Ember, who had suffered so much with such a little murmuring. They would decide together what path to take, for the whispers which beckoned were almost certainly those of his own people. But he would ask her questions, and she could no longer withhold her true intent.

If the opportunity to reclaim what had been lost presented itself, she must not let even Ember stand in her path.

You’re selfish, and cruel! Ky blinked rapidly—why could she not forget those bitter words, and more urgently, the bitter truth behind them? How can you say that we’re friends, and then take everything I ever loved from me? I’ll never see Isabel again!

Isabel—she resided among those of his clan. Ky remembered her, now; a plain face she had at first found insignificant. The woman in the woods, who had come to warn him of danger. They had not seemed so very close. Still, she had been Ember’s friend, by his own declaration, since long before Ky had ever wandered to their peaceful valley.

Sil had stolen Bren from her forever, and tarnished Ky's image in the eyes of Clan Veli.

Was she no better than her sister, after all?

The only thing you care about is finding your damn treasure! If we were really friends, you’d have told me the truth from the start.

She sniffed again.

No, he would not understand.

Perhaps he would leave her—and then all would be lost.

Ember stirred in his sleep and she yanked her hand away, shifting back across the floor. A profound sense of shame crumpled her shoulders, as if she had done something forbidden…

Had she?

He did not open his eyes, but he did mumble her name.

Ky took a breath.

"What is it?" he whispered, clearing his throat and swallowing twice.

She watched him carefully, heartbeat quickening, and then tapped his wrist with two fingers. "It is nothing, Ember. Return to your sleeping."

He remained quiet, listening for a few moments more, and then relaxed into his former position, tucking a hand under his neck and sighing through his nose. The glowing tree-stone nearly slipped from his palm, and she absently folded his fingers around it.

More echoes brushed her skin and ears.

Impossibly beautiful.

And impossible to resist.

Ky hummed a song of tranquility and deep thoughts of the earth, and any tension which remained in Ember's body fled him at once as he sank into a dark and restful sleep.

"Dream," she crooned, lifting her fingers and rising.

He did not make a sound as she crept over his still form and across the cobbled path, her steps silent and her movements careful.

Snail-skin!

Ky covered her mouth to stifle a whimper. She fled the last few steps to the great oaken door, her feet pattering quietly on the stone. When she glanced over her shoulder, he lay where she had left him.

There he would sleep until she returned.

She wished only to look—to glimpse, just once, with her waking eyes, what she had heard in the darkness—and discover what manner of man or otherling was waiting there. If she alone could find the answers she sought, then Ember's part in her half-woven plans might not be required after all; grim relief swept through her at the thought.

Yes.

That was good.

Perhaps someday, her Ember could return to his Isabel, and Ky would hunger no more, and be satisfied—and then they would both be happy.

Ky slipped beyond the open door, shutting it with a sonorous creak. The echoes left a trail through the stone, as clear as footprints on a forest path to the eyes and ears of her kin. When she stepped into the murk, the whispers rattled away into deeper halls and darker rooms, beckoning whosoever would hearken to their cries.

A fine greenish mist settled over the stones as she walked, and she shivered as the hem of her dress swished it away.

Deeper, Snail-Skin…

You must delve Deeper.