24

SHATTERED TRAIL

PART II

🙜

Ember had heard there were forests on the other side of Sisters Mountain, but at the time when this map had been penned it very well could have been a stretch of flat land. So many years had passed that he would have believed just about anything to have been true at the time—although this brought with it the nagging idea that things must also have changed within the mountain itself.

This map could just as well be their downfall as their salvation.

Chin up, Ember. One thing at a time. You haven't found her, yet.

What if he never did?

Supposing he had to find his way out alone?

Suppose—

Ember rolled up the scroll, hurriedly stood, and darted back into the bedroom.

He took the blanket from the bed and spread it out on the flagstones.

It’s stained and ruined anyway, he thought, struggling to justify what he was doing. He only knew that he had to, and he had nothing else with which to carry these things. He had already decided to take what he could from the corpses outside the sanctuary, if there were any serviceable items to be found, but for now…

He plopped down the scroll, and then snatched all five fruits from the vines. One of them he saved out for an evening meal, but the rest he set upon the blanket. Then he stalked out of the bedroom and took hold of the largest crystal which grew sideways out of the rock. He tugged on it, trying to make it break free of its cluster, but it refused to give way.

"Please," he whispered. "There's someone else who needs it more than I do. I'm going to take it to them, I promise."

Another tug.

It would not yield.

"The oracles harvested them regularly."

Ember jumped, startled by the lady's voice.

She stood across the stream near the door—hands clasped, serene.

"They are fragile, and cannot live long apart from this room and the sunlight, but there are a few enchantments which may be used to preserve them."

Suspicious, Ember remained where he was. The sudden counsel seemed insincere after her earlier tirade, but the complete annihilation of everyone she had been designed to serve was—he reflected—no doubt a very harsh truth to be told after so many years of hopeful waiting.

Nor have I been an entirely inoffensive guest.

"How can I—"

"Only the oracles were skilled enough to preserve the crystals."

"Of course," Ember muttered, glowering across the stream. Not that he thought he could do any 'shaping' of magic himself, but a part of him had been hoping for a quick rhyme or a simple word which might shake them loose.

His next thought was to do himself a minor harm and hope that one of the crystals came to his aide. If he dropped it into the blanket before it could heal him and hurried on his way, he might find Ky Veli before it wilted, or vanished, or whatever happened to crystals when they left this room.

But before he could decide whether to act upon this idea, the lady pointed to one of the baskets on the upper shelf of a bookcase.

"You may take one for your friend."

Ember rushed to the shelf, tipped the basket toward himself, and looked inside. Only two smallish crystals remained, a bit of ordinary rock still clinging to their surface. They had been chipped away from the mountain, but not polished.

"Oh." He tried very hard not to sound disappointed. "Is this all?"

She eyed him unsympathetically. "If you speak the truth, only one is needed."

Ember shuddered, the thin scars on his back pulling tight.

"I'd like to have them both," he confessed. "If I find someone else who needs it, I can give one to him—or her."

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The lady was silent for a long while.

At last she said, "If you wish to take them both, I cannot stop you. Only know that these stones will not take kindly to misuse."

Without a moment's hesitation, he gathered them both very carefully into his hands and carted them back to the bedroom, arranging the fruit, the stone-light, and the crystals inside the blanket. The scroll was tucked in last of all. When everything was neatly bundled, he glanced hungrily at the pitcher where it rested on the wash stand.

"Its source is bound to this room," said the lady, her voice softening. "It will be useless to you. But I have considered your plight, and I do not think any of the oracles I have served would begrudge you the map of the mountain.”

He blinked, surprised. “Thank you.”

“I have come to an understanding with the information you gave me, and the darkness which followed you here lends credence to your words; when you commanded the door to open, the spells of protection which were wrought about this sanctuary shattered. I sense much magic stirring in the halls beyond my borders, and no sons of men to shape it. However, my offer remains: you may stay in this sanctuary as long as you wish, whether it be a few days more or to live out your days in full."

Ember shrugged, listless at the thought. "I appreciate your generosity, but I'll be leaving just the same." He crossed the stream slowly, stomach knotting as he anticipated what might await him on the other side of the door. "I am sorry, you know… about everything?"

When he glanced over his shoulder, the lady stepped forward, her appearance more ghostly than ever among the twinkling candles. She blinked and wrapped her arms around her ribs, a curious gesture he had not yet seen from her.

“That map you carry with you…”

“Yes?” He tightened his grip on the bundle, protectively.

“I have decided that it is my favorite.”

For a moment, he was at a loss. “What makes you say that?”

“You asked me which of these books and scrolls I preferred, when you arrived here. I did not understand your meaning then. Now, I have decided that I prefer that which has brought hope to the last of our children.”

A knot formed in the back of his throat.

The last of our children…

“It was penned by an oracle no older than yourself, and it was the final scroll which he added to our collection, before the war began. It pleases me that his work will be of service to you.”

Ember hesitated, an idea excitedly rising in his mind. "If there’s nothing left here for you anyway, couldn’t you accompany me?”

A subdued smile touched her lips. "I regret that I must decline, for I cannot stray from this place."

"Why is that?”

Her eyes unfocused and she flickered faintly. “Like the basin and the pitcher, my source is bound to this room; if I leave here, the weaving will unravel…”

Ember’s heart sank. “Have you ever tried?”

She tilted her head. "Does one have to tempt what one already knows to be true?"

He didn’t agree, but he wasn’t going to waste more time arguing with the lady. “Before I go, I was wondering—do you have a name?”

“Each oracle referred to me in their own way; there are no more oracles here. As such, you may address me in whatever way you would prefer.”

Ember hesitated, shouldering the blanket and gazing at her for a quiet moment. It might be the closest he would ever come to a face-to-face encounter with another like himself within the mountain, and the thought of leaving pained him more than it should. The water trickled behind her radiant form, awash in moonlight, and the only other sound was his breathing echoing in the room.

"My name is Ember," he admitted, compelled to say the words without even knowing why. It was a fool thing to do. But he couldn't leave her there without… something.

Something human.

The lady smiled at him, and crossed the remainder of the space between them on bare and silent feet.

"Then go along your way, Ember of the Lost. May the Wayshaper light your path. The blessing of the oracles goes with you."

She placed her shining hands to either side of his face and leaned down. He couldn't feel her touch, but an unexpected warmth was kindled in his chest. He shivered and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of the cool dusty air.

"Thank you, Madam," he muttered, somewhat embarrassed.

When he opened his eyes, she was gone.

Drawing the worn hunting knife from his belt and wishing for the familiar weight of his fishing spear instead, Ember turned to the great stone door and said, "Open."

For an awkward and terrifying instant he thought nothing would happen.

Then a tremendous scraping, groaning sound shuddered through the room, making all the candles dance under the stars, and the door rolled back very slowly. Ember crouched, clenching the knife, but nothing jumped out at him: only a sea of broken mirrors and a dim light lay beyond.

And a long dark corridor, the sight of which brought back every twinge of rent flesh…

Ember set one foot on the shards and glanced down briefly.

A hundred shattered eyes stared back.

"Close," he murmured.

And the door rolled shut behind him.

Each step crunched and reverberated around the hall, and he cringed often, hoping nothing was alerted to his presence. It had been a harrowing ordeal to enter the mountain with Ky, and to wander the halls in a dreamlike haze, but this total isolation and clarity of mind left him vulnerable to fears of the wildest sort.

Only when he had reached the end of the hall of mirrors did he realize just how easy it would be to track the sirena.

A trail of bloody footprints spackled the tiles, so scattered and so messily imprinted that Ember knew at once she must have been sprinting—a dead run, as if there were wolves behind her. Whether haunted by more magic or the relentless pursuit of her own conscience would remain a mystery until they met again.

For his own sake, he hoped it was the latter.