SONG of EMBER

59

RIVEN

PART II

🙜

"Ky!" he called hoarsely. "Ky Veli! Wait! Don't be a fool! Where are you going?"

The crackling of the late summer leaves and dried grasses underfoot nearly drowned his desperate cries; Ky dared not spare so much as a backwards glance. She feared she would be unable to look away.

There could be no farewell.

She would not suffer it.

"Come back! Please!"

She faltered before a little stream that wended down through sloping forest, and leaped across in a single bound, ducking into the dense foliage. Twigs and leaves scratched at her soft bare feet, and a lock of her hair snagged on the low-hanging branches.

A distant splash echoed behind her, and then Ember's voice called out one last time: "I love you, Ky! I love you!"

She heard him stumble.

Heard him fall.

But did not once look back again, for that would be her end—her end, and the end of them both. So she ran, thistles catching her dress, each breath drier and more rasping than the last. The song of the little water hushed below a familiar echo of a greater water…

All instincts drove her downhill, toward the damp and dark.

But that was almost certainly where her sister would be, if she had followed them so far as Ember had feared—so Ky threaded her way uphill, leaving a trail of broken branches and footprints and slowly guiding him to higher ground. Now and again she crouched in the thickets to hear his voice, and each time he called her name she was half persuaded to run back to his calloused hands and gentle eyes. To drink of the kindness she had never once deserved.

He would take her in his arms and hold her tightly—

You must not even entertain such thoughts!

Her resolve weakened as his cries grew hoarse and hopeless.

When at last Ember was stumbling up through the towering pillars of cedar and pine, toward the stony ridges nearer the mountain’s crest, Ky made herself unseen and looped back through the ancient trees, across the crumbling road, and down toward the lake.

❧

Closing her eyes, Ky sniffed twice, drawing deep the scents of leafy boughs and trodden earth. Night had fallen over the ancient thoroughfare, and she had circled around again to face the two-head mountain, taking paths that he could never find.

Her lonely wanderings had ushered her across a broken path beside the stream, once spanned by a stony bridge which had crumbled into ruin, and a large patch of bushy leaves and tiny flowers which grew a little way down the hill. Knitbone. The sweet, crushed scent she left in her wake reminded her of him.

She put it out of her mind as quickly as possible.

The singing lake was nestled far beneath the mountain's shadow, down a gentle slope and tucked away within the forest. She knew its name, for the man had pointed it out to her on the map once: Crescent Lake. He said the word was like a fledgling moon, owed to the curving shape it had worn in the land. Perhaps it had changed much since those days; perhaps little. She could already smell the green water and crocuses, and its voice sang softly to her heart, beckoning her while yet out of sight.

From the lake, she would make her way to the ocean… if there was sufficient water along whatever path she chose.

Further than that, she dared not ponder.

After a longish while of creeping through thorny undergrowth, Ky reached a grassy clearing—and there, spread out before her, lay a vast and shining water. The moon glowed through the branches of the trees, its silvery light reflecting on the deep, which held a thousand stars in its glittering reach.

A restless loon cried in the distance as she hastened toward the pond grasses and waving cattail stalks, craving its healing touch.

Crescent Lake welcomed her with a splash, and a cloud of bats startled from the trees, swooping over the glinting reflections with a chorale of airy squeaks and chirps. She dipped her hands into the water and poured it over her hair as she waded in. The dress suddenly pulled at her shoulders, scratchy wool soaking up the water and darkening as it floated about her legs.

She hooked a sleeve with her claw, and almost tore it away…

But it still smelled faintly of—

Forget.

Ky squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, hissing and spitting, and stamped a foot on the slippery pebbles, sloshing more water onto the dress.

How could she forget, now?

Now that she knew what—

Forget. Forget.

Ky lowered herself into the shallows, spreading out her arms and letting her feet leave the slippery stones as she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, floating among the reeds. The water was her companion of old, the truest master of her fate. The heavy skirts dragged at her, threatening to pull her to the lake bed. She did not resist.

The water closed over her face, lofting the sodden dress around her body as her hands fell across rotting wood and slimy weeds. Little fishes swam past, curious about the stranger in their midst, but she did not close her fingers around any of them.

She had grown accustomed to the Hunger…

It was a part of her now.

If she could not have him there with her, then she would have nothing at all.

Moonlight and starlight wavered through the surface of the lake, playing across her eyelids. A gentle light—not hot and dry like the light of the sun. It was a cold light, as cold as the blood that flowed through her veins, a friend of shadows.

Forget.

Forget.

Forget…

For an age, Ky lay as still as death. Occasionally a current drifted past, rocking her gently, but she opened her mind to all the voices which whispered in the water, letting them drown out the pain in her heart. Yes. Yes, it was better to forget.

A soft sound vibrated through the water.

Ky stared at the murky rippling surface overhead.

It was familiar.

She sat up slowly, lifting her head and shoulders from the soft embrace. The world of sound welcomed her return with a dull pop, and for a moment all she could hear were the droplets of water dripping from the end of her nose. No crickets chirred in the tall grass, and no night birds sang.

A warbling whistle disturbed the stillness.

Instinct stirred within her and she bolted to her feet in the shallows of the lake, the dress hanging limply from her body. She wished now that she had taken it off. It would hinder her ability to flee. The wild idea of calling his name occurred to her, but that would only shout his presence to the woods and all who may be listening. Silence may yet save them both—but how was she to know what became of him?

Ky opened her mouth to sing, to call the darkness to herself, away from him. But her mouth was startlingly dry, and only a hollow croak came out. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself and stared into the woods with wide eyes.

The not-a-bird-call echoed through the trees, closer than before.

It may fool a mortal, perhaps, but never a sirena—the note of beckoning would have twitched at her to move, to seek it out… if only she did not know what awaited her at the other side of that summons. Ky flinched as a twig snapped, and a musky herbaceous scent drifted across the clearing, bringing with it a rush of memories and tactile sensations—her stomach heaved and she splashed out of the shallows, pausing only to yank the hem of her dress from a snaggly branch.

As she reached the shore Ky fell to her hands and knees, crawling quietly through the tall grasses, toward the two-head mountain. She was downwind of it… perhaps her scent had not been caught.

She lifted her head to peer out at the shimmering water through the grass, heart drumming rapidly; all was still and quiet. Panting, she squeezed herself into the crook of two trees which had grown up together like lovers, and lingered there. Another twig crackled at the edge of the forest where she had been creeping moments ago, but the shadows remained long and undisturbed.

A frog garrumphed in the weeds, releasing the lake from its spell of silence.

Ky slumped against the entwined trees in relief—and a chill breath tickled her ear.

She swallowed a shriek and ducked away, the soles of her feet sinking into the mud.

Before she could splash into the shallows, her head snapped back and a wretched yelp tore her throat as several strands of hair pulled free of her scalp. Ky wheezed, all breath thudding from her lungs as her shoulders slammed into the ground and a great weight pressed against her chest, all the world flashing in patterns of pain.

Clawed fingers gripped her throat, and a blurry face hovered immediately above. Two black eyes gleamed in the moonlight, and Ky felt her heartbeat slow in resignation. The fingers dug into the soft flesh beneath her chin, forcing her to meet a familiar stare.

A long, fragrant sigh washed over her face.

Ky shut her eyes.

"Sister…"