SONG of EMBER

55

DUST AND TO DUST

🙜

The woods were grim, each tree adorned with ice and all flowers turned to frost. They stood tall amidst the fog of his dream, skeletal branches reaching for the darkening sky, where hung a moonless dusk and a scattering of stars. A forbidding landscape, broken and haunted by the remnants of what might have been.

Ky’s lullaby echoed long among the lonely pines, fainter than before—and beneath that fair voice there lay a heavier, discordant melody which bent it and smothered it, swaying to and fro like a reed in the wind.

Ember breathed into his hands to warm them as the blood fled his fingers.

From behind him drifted a sumptuous summons…

“Your heart is bruised.”

He froze, feet sinking into the freshly fallen snow.

The siren melodies twined higher and higher—sister voices, though one was now nearly overwhelmed by the other. But those words, that drifting breath, was an impossibility. No more than a cruel trick of his own mind. He forced himself to be calm, awaiting Ky’s spell-song to sweep it away, for the figment of fear to fade. Instead, her layered accompaniment became ever more distant, merely an echo of its usual chorus…

A darker thrumming arose to take full possession of his senses, commanding him to turn.

He obeyed, glancing back.

The naked witch stood mere paces from his shoulder—her gaze aglow, shivering skin scintillating in the misty darkness, eyes fluttering and rolling back in her head in a manner which altogether abandoned any attempt at a human mask. Ember recoiled, crunching backward across the carpet of frozen leaves and putting out a hand to steady himself against the tree.

“You—you can’t be here,” he stammered.

“I smell it,” hissed Sil, the light in her eyes shining through him. “I taste it…”

He fell still, captured in that light—that ravenous flicker.

Held fast by her stirring breath.

“Sssssomething has crushed the song of your bones.” Her eyelids twitched and her chest heaved beneath the mane of waterfall red, a once-sultry song now breathless and ragged, and somehow he loved it the better—and hated himself the more. “Once, Sil of Clan Veli was blind… she wanted only to crack open your ribs, and consume you whole... but now that I am seeing… what is possible... what a waste, that would be...”

Black claws flashed in the fading light and bloodless fingers seized him by the neck—again. The last wafting echoes of Ky's lullaby were choked out of his mind as Sil’s mouth pulled wide. She tightened her grip. Her eyes were perfectly round and dark, smile flat and toothy, bat-wing ears trembling in anticipation.

He grabbed her damp wrists, unable to utter so much as a gasp.

“Shhh,” purred Sil. “There is no fight left in you, Ember of the Oracles. If Ky had but silenced her troublesome tongue when first we met in the woods below this mountain, you would be crawling at my feet already… yes, I am sure I would have been knowing... yet, in time.”

The sinews tensed within her arms, belying a physical strength which rivaled that of any mortal man. Ember gargled, tears streaming from both eyes and blurring her tangled hair into a smear of blood. A faint memory calmed his sense of panic—the soft rushing of a thousand voices whispering through these barren pines.

He winced at the slimy skin which slipped beneath his fingers and scrabbled against her palms, gouging his own neck.

The chattering grew louder, urging him, beckoning him into the afterlight of a radiant history. He recalled a few of those ancient faces now, and their pool of fathomless knowledge. It was almost within his reach—or at least, he felt it was. The power to rend and remake the fabric of reality—

“My sister cannot save you," she trilled, relishing the taste of the words upon her tongue. "In the end, it is always her fate… to lead Sil of Clan Veli to the pitiful fools whom she adores, the way a child favors its pet. Your soul is mine now, for I have cast her out, and she will never have you again.”

Ember shut his eyes, forcing his locked fingers to release their grip on her arms—and punched Sil in the face.

Something cracked beneath his knuckles, and she shrieked, loosening her grasp.

He wrenched free and ran without looking to see what he had struck, staggering wildly up the hill, snatching and grabbing at the roots and low-hanging branches of the trees. Darkness had taken hold, and the stars vanished; the landscape sank into an even colder winter. Somewhere behind him there chanted a fell voice, invoking words of darkness. A gust of bitter wind lashed his hair into his face, and the top layer of snow swirled around his ankles, whipping up into a blinding frenzy.

He had to get out of this valley.

Get out of this waking dream.

❧

Ky carefully tucked the blanket around Ember's neck and shoulders, and brushed a sticky curl of hair from his forehead. An unfamiliar longing overcame her, and for that fleeting instant, she entertained the forbidden fancy of what it might be like to grant him the kiss he’d sought.

She tucked her arms together and wilted into the stony floor.

He was only enamored of her musk and siren charms. She could not keep him warm, for she had no warmth unto herself, no living blood to sing with his. The moon and the sun could never touch, only admire one another from afar. She was of the ocean spray, and he was of the dust, and to dust he was bound. Until he returned to such a state, he would always be a slave to her brokenness, her emptiness—if indeed he truly cared for her at all.

Ember was not her Ember.

He had never been, nor would he ever be.

Ky’s fist clenched, wishing for the tree-stone, but its comforting glow was forever lost. Her hungry eyes strayed to the only remaining source of illumination: a fingers-breadth of metal which peered out from its leather cocoon, a single rune glowing bluer than the sea, and a prettiness which tangled her thoughts like a fly in spider-silk.

She hesitated.

Wrapped her claws around the hilt.

Slowly drew the pretty sword from its shell.

The full set of otherworldly human etchings rippled like the light of a summer moon, reflecting on her pale arms in a watery dance. Beautiful and dangerous. Two notions which all too often could be found clasped in a fatal embrace. It was these very notions which she and all her kinfolk must always embody in the eyes of mortal men, lest they come to ruin.

As Ember would come to ruin, if indeed he had not—

“Kyveli is a wretched thing, who brings her friends to harm," she whispered, compelled by the guilt which smoldered beneath her breast; it was a slow poison, relentless in its conquest, but the soft words eased her discomfort. “Though, in the end, always, she is sorry for it.”

The sword shimmered beneath her breath.

Ky swallowed a lump of fear, reaching for the blade: the arts of those enchantments were as dead as Ember's ancestors, but the metal seemed not-quite-alive, humming a simple song of its own. Not unlike the phantom woman who haunted her wandering footsteps in every darkened hall.

Silly Little Fish…

Yet she had no creature to confide in, none other soul—riven nor whole—to share in her immortal sorrows.

"I wish to keep him safe, you see… in this, at least, are we not of one heart?"

As she spoke, she lowered her hand.

The blade buzzed, glowing fiercely, and spun itself in a slow circle over the cobbled stone. Closer, ever closer, until her finger hovered near to touching. It lodged against a crack in the road and hummed quietly in place, hilt rattling against her knee. A muffled whimper escaped her as she contemplated those beautiful runes.

Had she not defied the snatch with this sword in her hands? Was it not rightfully hers, at least in part?

The sword grew warm below her fingers.

It must revel in her anguish; the burbling laughter of the snatch lingered in her ears, the shame so fresh in her mind, her loss so deep, that this slight from such a little thing was more than she could bear.

"I am what I am," Ky cried in the siren tongue. "I cannot unmake myself!"

Ember groaned and stirred in his sleep. She cast a frantic glance in his direction, whispering something half-remembered and half-contrived to ease his restless dreams. The blankets shifted, and he sighed.

Her attention flew back to the pretty sword.

A ripple of silvery light had just reached the point of the blade…

And the runes went dark.

She observed it for several minutes in silence.

Then she tapped it with a claw; it shivered, but no light flashed along the metal. Ky pressed her finger to the runes—it was cold beneath her touch.

Unfriendly, perhaps.

No cruel bite.

Letting out the breath in a rush of disbelief, Ky trailed the human runes with the pad of her finger. Then she pulled the naked sword into her lap, following the pattern of the etchings over and over and pretending she could read them. It was a thing she had wished to do many times, and even now she found some solace in it.

As she touched the cool engravings, her thoughts stilled and cooled like the metal ridges, hardening into a crystalline pattern of beauty and chaos. If she had any emotion to spare for reminiscing, it might have prompted memories of the way ice crept over ponds or lakes in the winter: deep, and dark, and cold beneath, but clear and tranquil on the surface.

"Into the wildwood they marched," she sighed, "where magic makes its den, and sank unto the ocean deep to dwell apart from men."

The sword shivered beneath her fingers and Ky closed her eyes.

A strange, chill solace enveloped her mind.

"The wildwood, the wildwood,

will have their hearts again…"

❧

Ky awoke to a faint buzz resonating through the stone beneath her. She drifted away from the void of sleep and sat up, rubbing her eyes. The dull dark of grief and weariness was cast away by a blurry glow on the floor, near to where Ember lay sleeping…

The pretty sword spun in slow circles, buzzing and shaking with righteous fury; it pulsed, like a faint heartbeat. Ky watched in silent confusion, and then held a hand above it. A song of wrath shivered the air. It only trembled thusly when it knew her voice, and when it knew the voice of the Lonely One whom Ember had sent into the Greater Darkness. Ky frowned, glancing about the dim hall, but they were alone.

Nor could she hear the song of another siren.

She hesitantly touched the runes with her finger—but they were still on good terms, and it pained her not. She grabbed the haft, lifting the blade from the stone, and pointed it down the hall, away from Ember.

It quieted.

As she lofted it toward his nest of blankets, the buzzing grew more angry.

She eyed him as he slept, and noticed that his lidded gaze wandered to and fro; he was still lost in the dream she had spun him.

“It is only Ember,” she whispered, unsettled. “What means you by this?”

The sword stilled as she moved it away…

And shook again, glowing more fiercely, as she swung it back toward Ember.

She opened her mouth to inquire once more, but before she could speak, Ember let out a grumbling sigh and shifted on the stone. His hand reached out from under the blankets, and his fingers grasped at nothing; they twitched, as if searching for something to grab onto, and his head jerked to the side as if trying to sit up.

“Ember?” Ky murmured, regret blossoming deep in her chest like a wretched flower.

He is having a bad dream… but how can this be? Perhaps our song is weaker than before.

Dismayed by this thought, Ky grasped his elbow and shook him faintly.

“Ember, wake up now, please. You are dreaming!”

He twitched more erratically, and his mouth fell open in a panting breath.

“Ember, awake!”

His fingers grasped again, and he blocked something unseen with his elbow, knocking her hand away. Low vibrations emanated from his chest, and for a fleeting instant the fragrance of his swirling soul swallowed her senses whole…

The glow appeared to spread from the sword to Ember, radiance suffusing his features in a beatific glow. She had no time to be confused by this, as his mumbling became muttered words. Ky leaned as close as she dared, drool pooling beneath her tongue, but could not understand them. They were too slurred, and spoken between clenched teeth.

She fashioned a soothing hum, a few notes which had always brought him peace…

Sounds of warmth and comfort.

Ember’s head wrenched back, slamming against the floor, and he let out an anguished cry, like a man who had been struck in the back. Ky shrieked and grabbed his arm, shaking him roughly.

“Ember, wake! Wake!”

The sword spun near her ankles.

She swept it aloft.

It thrummed with a vengeance, and when she moved it toward his head, it flashed brightly.

“Yargh!”

Ky dropped the sword, which clanged against the floor, and snatched Ember’s face in both her hands—almost an instinct, driven by desperation. Her skin prickled, the hair on the back of her neck lifting as she touched his fevered brow. Above the overwhelmingly pungent scent of his essence, she caught a faint hint of crushed pine and sage.

Her hands trembled.

Sister…

Ember grabbed her arms.

Ky reflexively jerked away, cowed by the smell of her past, but he held her fast. His grip was strong—frantic—and his mumbled nonsense quickened, as if he were muttering an incantation. It wasn’t the pretty sword which cast a light upon his face.

His skin was aglow.

The blood beneath coursed with a luminosity which suffused his lips, his cheeks, winding down his neck in golden strands. His eyes twitched sightlessly, forehead furrowed, and he gripped her arms so tightly she thought he would crush them.

The scent drifted from his mouth…

A sirena’s breath.

She gasped, and clamped her fingers against his temples.

Then she opened her mouth and shouted a simple command.

“SIGHT!”

The air around her shivered, Fishbiter rattled against the floor, and her vision dimmed. Ember’s grip tightened, and Ky dug her claws into his skull, shutting her eyes. The breath was sucked out of her lungs, and for a moment, she felt as if she were dying—then a white light glowed at the edges of her vision.

Gasping, Ky groped for Ember, but her fingers scraped dry earth.

He was gone…

And she was cold.

Ky glanced up as colors sprawled across her sight.

A starless sky, engulfed by the skeletal arms of a barren wood.