Echoes of Ash & Tears

by L. Penelope

“So you are a sorcerer?” Coal’s voice rose. “We are protected from your magic here.”

  If he was an Earthsinger, he was an unusual one. Though Mooriah had only ever seen her father on his rare visits, she knew that the Singers bore similar features—quite different to Fenix’s. She wished he’d answered Ember’s question, what was he supposed to be observing?

  Crimson let out an annoyed sigh. “This interloper from the Outside has nothing of interest to relay. He is sentenced to death. We will have no one desecrating the Mother in such a manner, ignorant or not.”

  Next to him, Rumble smiled while Ember’s expression stayed carefully blank. But his gaze flashed to hers for a moment, and she recognized sorrow there. She pressed her lips, keeping her own emotions in check. Why did either of them care what happened to a stranger? She could do nothing to stop it. She just hoped his death would be speedy and painless.

  Swift footsteps raced down the tunnel towards the chamber. A messenger stopped there, bowing low. “Forgive me, Chieftain, but the sorcerer has arrived.” The young boy’s gaze flitted to Mooriah, and her breath caught. “He wouldn’t wait, he said he needs to speak with you immediately.”

  Emerging from the darkness behind him was a hooded figure. His brown cloak hid his features, but Mooriah recognized the walk. He stepped into the chamber, moving past the messenger and bowing before the chieftain, before removing his hood.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, but this is urgent,” he said, voice gravelly. “I must speak with my daughter.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Hello, Father.”

  Seated across the fire from him in the chieftain’s quarters, Mooriah studied her father, Yllis. It had been close to eight years since she’d last seen him. His hair was coiled in thick, silver locs, which cascaded down his back. The coloring was that of an old man, but he was only in his mid-forties. His face was still unlined, but stress and strain had changed his hair color too early.

  Over the years, he had visited to check in on her at seemingly at random intervals. Always he asked how her studies were progressing, how her control of her Song had improved. He showed a detached sort of interest in her life but nothing of the love and care she saw between other fathers and daughters. He did not hug her or murmur endearments. Once he’d stroked her face and looked at her mournfully before leaving.

  Now, seated next to Crimson, he sipped tea. Oval and Murmur were there as well, both remaining quiet. Ember and Rumble sat just behind their father, not included exactly, but observing. Soaking up knowledge for the day one of them would become chief.

  “Why have you come, sorcerer?” Crimson asked gruffly.

  Yllis was solemn. “I bring news of the war to you.”

  Crimson waved an arm. “We care nothing for your war. Whether you Outsiders annihilate yourselves or not means little to us.”

  “Even if many of those killed are your kin?”

  Crimson sniffed and sipped from his drinking bowl.

  “We are all kin when it comes down to it,” Yllis said softly, staring into the fire. Ember frowned, but no one else acknowledged his statement.

  “Father, what of the war? I thought there was peace now because of the Mantle. Why are you here?”

  Yllis’s eyes had deep circles beneath them. He looked haggard, as if he’d gone many nights without proper rest. He took a deep breath. “I came for you.”

  All the breath left her body. She tensed, childish hopes living entire lives within her.

  “I need your help.”

  She struggled to keep the disappointment at bay. Of course he had not come to take her away with him, to be a real father. She was far too old for that anyway—she was a woman grown. What need did she have for a father? Ember’s gaze upon her was like a physical touch, but she kept her attention on her father’s face. His skin was so like hers. Familiar, but foreign.

  “You need my help with what?” she croaked out.

  “The Mantle separates the two lands and has paused the conflict between the Earthsingers and the Silent—those with magic and those without. This is true. It protects us from one another, but in the east, on the side with the Singers, there is still strife. The fighting has changed, it’s now more clandestine. The man who caused the war, who calls himself the True Father, has an uncontrollable lust for power. He steals it from the people, draining their Songs and taking them for himself. The Mantle keeps him trapped, locked in a land full of Earthsingers who fall victim to him.”

  Misery suffused his face. “There are those in the east who oppose him and who are willing to fight. I am helping them, but the True Father has begun looking for ways to destroy the Mantle and unleash himself upon the world. The barrier is strong but could be stronger. I have been endeavoring to reinforce it at its most vulnerable point, its cornerstone, but the working requires something I do not have.”

  Understanding dawned and Mooriah’s eyes widened. “Nethersong?”

  He nodded, grave. “Yes, daughter. I know the strife of the Outside means little to you all down here. The Folk exist beyond the complications of what we go through, but this is still important. The True Father is trapped in a web of his own making, but I fear what it would mean if he were freed to roam the world with his stolen Songs. It could very well impact the Folk.”

  “But how could Nethersong help?”

  “I have long studied ways to combine the magics. We have successfully mixed Earthsong and blood magic and caused it to do things impossible with just one or the other. I have discovered that adding Nethersong can be quite potent. It can help form an additional layer of protection, one which I hope will not be necessary—my goal is still to defeat him—but I want to ensure there is a failsafe.”

  Mooriah chewed on her lip. “I will help if I can.”

  “It must not interfere with her studies,” Oval spoke up. “When you brought her to us all those years ago, it was for good reason. We accepted her on certain conditions.”

  Mooriah bristled, her face growing hot.

  “It is vital for her to master control of her Song, for the good of all, I know,” Yllis replied evenly. “This task will only aid in her study. It will give her hands-on application, not mere practice.”

  Murmur swayed in his seat, eyes closed. His breathing was shaky, like it was when he received a vision. After a moment, he held up a hand and opened his eyes. “Something is coming, but I cannot see it yet.” He sighed heavily. “It will come in its time, but your father is right. Your control is admirable, but you must better understand the use of your Song.”

  Oval huffed. “True, but that work is of a lifetime. She has also made a commitment to her apprenticeship that cannot be shirked.”

  “I’m quite certain I can do both, Exemplar.”

  His heavy-lidded eyes displayed some skepticism, but he merely nodded. “See that you do, else your position will be forfeited.” Along with her hopes of becoming a clan member.

  She should tell her father no, reject him the way he had always rejected her, but she could not bring herself to do it. Silently cursing her weakness, she grit her teeth.

  Murmur peered at Yllis and stroked his chin. “Your work on the Mantle’s cornerstone, would it benefit from the help of another Earthsinger?”

  Yllis frowned. “Certainly, but none can cross the Mantle save me. All the others are locked in the east.”

  “Not all,” Murmur said, looking at Oval significantly.

  The elder shaman shook his head. “You speak of the Outsider? He has desecrated the Mother and must be punished.”

  “His work on this would benefit the Mother, protecting Her from a scourge of sorcerers from the Outside descending upon Her. It would offer restitution for his crime that his mere death would not.”

  Oval shrugged. “It is for the chieftain to decide.”

  Mooriah held her breath as everyone looked to Crimson. The chieftain turned to his sons, seeking their input. Rumble spoke up first.

  “The penalty for his action is death
, we must hold fast to justice.” He crossed his arms, eyes flashing.

  Ember tilted his head. “I believe that the prisoner’s blood would sully the Mother. Better he offer a redress and benefit Her in some way and then be exiled with the knowledge that if he ever returns, he will be killed.”

  Crimson tapped his chin, considering. “Impure blood such as his should not be further spilled inside the sacred Mother. I will leave him in your custody, sorcerer. And you,” he motioned to Ember, “ensure that he never returns.”

  Mooriah held back the sigh of relief. She shot Ember a grateful look. He gave an almost imperceptible nod. Though she was taking on this new task, she still had to find the time to meet with him and help him. It was more obvious than ever that he would be the far better choice for chieftain.

  She turned to her father. “When should we begin?”

  “As quickly as possible.”

  Chapter Six

  Ritual of Banishment: Prevents the unwanted from entering protected ground.

  The blood of the banished is sufficient. Attempting to use any other activating agents is unwise. The focus of sincere intention will prevent unwanted consequences, but any distraction or confusion may exile those you do not intend.

  — WISDOM OF THE FOLK

  * * *

  Years had passed since Mooriah had been outside of the Mountain Mother. The only sunlight she saw usually came from far overhead from the vents and airholes in various caves. The streaming light up ahead at the end of the tunnel through which she followed her father was beginning to give her a headache. She used the bone needle in her pocket to pierce her finger, then murmured the words of a blood spell to help her adjust to the brightness.

  Behind them, two guards carried Fenix on his litter. Ember brought up the rear of the party to carry out his father’s command and ensure the Outsider was properly exiled and forbidden from returning.

  They emerged on a plateau, with paths leading down either side of the peak on which they stood. She shivered as a sharp wind blew across her skin. Though there were no seasons inside the Mother, evidence of the weather still reached them. They celebrated the upcoming First Frost Festival every year, along with the Celebration of the First Bud, when the plants in the farming caves sprouted in the spring.

  Once on the plateau, Yllis set down his pack and retrieved a heavy cloak from within, as well as a pair of boots then handed them to Mooriah. She accepted them gratefully, for her teeth were chattering. The boots were a bit too large but served to protect her bare feet from the weather.

  The guards set Fenix’s pallet on the ground, but he stood up at once, flexing his arms and legs. Out of the reach of the wards embedded within the rock walls, he had healed himself almost instantly. The bruises were gone, and the blood still encrusted on his limbs disappeared. His tunic and trousers were still stained, but the rest of him was whole and hale.

  Holding their arms at their sides, the guards retreated without another word. That left Ember alone in the entrance to the tunnel, squinting at the land beyond. His eyes were also unused to the brightness of day, though, with a warrior’s stoicism, he showed no sign of the effects of the cold on his bare chest and legs.

  He turned to Mooriah, his eyes still narrowed against the light. “The Ritual of Banishment,” he said, speaking low. She nodded. She would not need anything from her satchel, just her knife and the blood.

  Ember eyed her warily but stood his ground. The wind ruffled his waistcloth, revealing more of his well-muscled thigh. A shiver raced through him, uncontrollably, and she rushed to perform the ritual so that he could return to the warmth.

  “Your hand,” she said to Fenix. He looked at her curiously then extended his hand.

  She sliced a shallow cut in his palm and allowed his blood to spill into her clay bowl. She did the same to her own palm before looking to Ember whose jaw was clenched. “This is the first lesson,” she whispered to him. “Close your eyes.”

  He did so and held out his hand. She made the tiniest cut she could. His muscles were rigid as stone as she collected drops of blood into the bowl. Then with a whisper, she bound hers and Ember’s wounds. Fenix’s healed on its own a moment after she’d sliced him.

  Mooriah closed her eyes and invoked the spell, banishing Fenix from entering the Mother again. To her surprise, Ember added to it, including words to banish all his kind. Her eyes opened in shock. Would that mean her father could not enter as well? He was an Earthsinger, too. But Ember spoke the words of closing and the blood in the bowl shimmered and hardened, forming a caldera which floated up and then back toward the tunnel entrance. It would embed itself in the rock there and become a permanent part of the mountain.

  “It is done,” she said.

  Ember nodded and turned to Fenix. “Safe travels to you.” He bowed.

  Fenix raised a brow, a smile playing at his lips. He seemed amused by Ember’s stiff formality.

  Ember nodded at Yllis before turning to Mooriah. “I will see you later?”

  “Yes, I will find you when I return.”

  His gaze held hers for a long moment as if he was trying to communicate something, though she wasn’t sure what. Then he turned and walked back to the tunnel. She watched him until he disappeared into the darkness, then found Fenix looking at her, his golden eyes swirling. His skin also had taken on more than just a healthy glow. It seemed to be shining with some kind of inner light.

  It was such a strange effect that she stared for several moments. “Did you know that you are…” She motioned to his body. “…radiating?”

  He looked down and smiled ruefully. His skin dimmed somewhat but was still oddly luminous. “I still have not grown used to holding this form.”

  She blinked rapidly. “What form do you usually hold?”

  He grinned before his body practically exploded into light. She stumbled backward and her father caught her as Fenix transformed. He was like a star come to life. He bobbed and weaved and then took on a human form again. This time, the tunic and trousers he wore were spotless. She noticed now they were of a material she’d never seen before. Had he manifested them with his power?

  “You are not an Earthsinger,” she said, awe in her voice.

  “I use Earthsong, but I am not a Singer in the way that those born here are.”

  Yllis still had his arm around her. He peered at Fenix, tilting his head. “You are an observer? Sent from the remnant of the Founders’ people?”

  Fenix nodded.

  “The Founders?” Mooriah asked.

  “Do you recall the stories I told you of the origin of the Earthsingers?” Yllis asked.

  She had listened to every word her father had ever spoken on his rare visits, committing them to memory. “A magical Lord and Lady from a distant land arrived here. They had great power and transformed the desert into farmland. They had nine children who found husbands and wives among the first of the Folk who left the Mother.”

  “My great-grandmother was one of those nine.”

  His family tree—hers as well—was of great interest to her. The children of the unions between the nine children of the Founders and the Cavefolk were born either Singers or Silent—one sibling could have magic while another would not. And these differences were the root cause of the war that had raged before her birth.

  She could understand the jealousy of those who could not wield Earthsong. Any of them could learn to use blood magic if they chose, but after the Folk left the Mother to become Outsiders, they lost the old ways for the most part. And so they fought the sorcerers—sometimes their own brothers and sisters. Meanwhile, inside the mountain, clans fought for far pettier reasons.

  “What were you sent here to observe?” Mooriah asked. “You never said.”

  Fenix spread his arms. “This land. Your ancestors settled here from my world and found safety and hospitality. There are those where I’m from who keep track of such things in case a need for another exodus comes to pass. Our world was destroyed, and our peop
le scattered. If any of us find ourselves displaced once again, victims of another calamity, it is helpful to know where we might find refuge.”

  “Another calamity? What happened?”

  His all over glow dimmed even further. “That is a long, sad story. One for another time.”

  Mooriah nodded. Curious as she was, she had no desire for a sad tale. The wind picked up again, ruffling her braid. She turned to her father who was pensive.

  “How long will you be here?” Yllis asked.

  “I am not certain,” he said, gazing at Mooriah speculatively. “Until my task is complete, I suppose.”

  She didn’t know how long observing took or if there were special requirements or perhaps a report he had to compile, and she sensed Fenix was being vague on purpose. They had explained what Yllis was planning on the trip out of the mountain, when Fenix was still playing at being gravely injured. “Well, will you help us?” she asked.

  “Certainly. It seems I owe you a debt for saving my life from those vile, pale creatures in the caves.”

  She set her jaw. “You are lucky that some of those vile, pale creatures are kind and generous.”

  Fenix quirked his lip, which only served to stoke her ire. He took very little seriously. “I consider myself lucky, indeed.” His tone edged toward flirtatious, which flustered Mooriah, but also had the effect of cooling her anger. He gazed so directly at her with eyes of liquid gold. They were almost hypnotizing.

  “We have a long walk to the cornerstone,” Yllis announced, breaking the strange effect she’d been under. “I will explain more on the way.”

  As they trekked across the mountain paths, Mooriah slowly grew used to the cold. The cloak her father had given her was lined with fur and provided adequate warmth, and she could always do a blood spell to further warm herself but decided to hold off. Part of her wanted to feel such a foreign sensation. The slight stinging of the wind on her cheeks was something new, something she wanted to investigate.

  Yllis told Fenix of the war between Singer and Silent, of how the man who called himself the True Father was slowly draining the Earthsingers of their magic and how the Mantle kept him hemmed into his side of the mountain.