A Trail of Embers

by C A Kinnee

  “You didn’t,” she defended herself. “I would have remembered. That fluff ball was a corbin? I remember you said be careful!”

  Her face twitched and a weak snicker escaped. “Oh Kieran, don’t you see?” The giggle shifted to a rumbling belly laugh. “. . . so funny—” she wheezed collapsing to the forest floor. “If you could only see y-your face, you would . . .” Shaking with laughter, she rolled over the ground collecting leaves and sticks like a magnet.

  “Stop it!” Kieran commanded. Her laughter stunned him. “You could have died.”

  That sent her into deeper whoops.

  Kieran advanced towards her. He grabbed her arm and dragged her to her feet, giving her a shake. “Stop it.”

  She laughed harder.

  His hands dropped to his sides, knotting into fists. She had lost her mind.

  Her snorts diminished to muffled giggles.

  “I’m glad you find this funny,” he began icily.

  “No-no, Kieran.” She held up a hand. “It’s only that I was so tired, and the poor little thing was crying. As soon as I touched it, it began to whistle. The next thing I knew, that thing was at the edge of the clearing.”

  “I showed you a corbin,” Kieran muttered defensively.

  “But you pushed me out of the way. All I saw was its baby,” she countered.

  Kieran didn’t see any humor in the situation. He glared at her, torn between irritation and relief. Her face, flushed with laughter one moment, faded to pasty white the next. A twinge of satisfaction flowed through him. Good, maybe now she would realize the danger she had been in. The feeling passed in a flash. He dropped his pack.

  “Meara!” he said, jumping to catch her as her eyes rolled back. He grabbed her shoulders, his fingers biting into the fine bones.

  “Meara!” he repeated, kneeling beside her. He pressed her head forwards. “Put your head down. Take big breaths,” he commanded. “It will pass.”

  She sucked in some deep gasps. Gradually, her color pinked, the green faded.

  “Here.” Kieran broke off a piece of jerky and handed it to her. “Have you eaten?” he asked.

  “Some yellow berries.”

  “Meechan berries,” he said. “They’ll give you energy.”

  She sat up. “We have to get out of here. There are two men—”

  “You don’t have to worry about them,” he said.

  “Kieran, they might be out there right now. They’re like ghosts. They come out of the trees and . . .” She shuddered.

  Kieran shook his head. “Don’t worry. They won’t bother you again.”

  “Did you . . .?” She looked down at his discarded bow.

  “I didn’t have to. Sometimes the forest takes care of things.”

  “What happened?”

  He sighed. He should have known she wouldn’t let him escape with that answer.

  “Forest raiders—Miandrogas—they’re gone. How did you escape?”

  “No, you first. Where did they go?”

  “More like how did they die?” He shrugged. He didn’t feel bad about what had happened to the men.

  There’s a bug—an amosa,” he continued. “It lives in blue grass mounds. Sometimes you can’t tell if a mound holds a colony until the sun goes down and the bug is active. The Miandrogas picked a mound with a big colony.”

  “They were drinking.” Meara looked thoughtful. “They’re dead?”

  He nodded.

  “You didn’t have to shoot them?” She looked disappointed.

  He shook his head.

  “Oh.” She shrugged. “They deserved worse, but dead is dead.”

  Kieran didn’t reply. He couldn’t argue with her logic. The loss of two Miandrogas wasn’t something he would cry over.

  The silence stretched comfortably. Meara chewed the rough jerky lost in thought. Good, the salty meat would restore her. She was right about the Miandrogas, dead was dead. The men were gone and no one would ever suffer from their cruelty again. They deserved their fate.

  Overhead, the birds darted through the trees and small creatures rustled in the bush. As long as those sounds continued, Metreo wouldn’t be sneaking up behind them. Meara gathered the egg into her lap.

  “I heard the egg,” Kieran said hesitantly. “That’s how I found you.”

  Meara glanced up. “You couldn’t have. The egg was silent.”

  “No,” he insisted. “It called.”

  She looked at him doubtfully and swallowed the last bite of meat before tucking her knees up under her chin, cradling the egg.

  “The egg,” she said, “was very quiet. Usually it screams and chatters, but it did nothing.”

  Kieran stared at her, trying to understand what she was trying to tell him.

  “Kieran, don’t you see? You can hear it. Try and speak to it.”

  He shook his head. Dragons and their eggs were for wizards to deal with. He didn’t want anything to do with them. The thought that the egg might be able to speak to him brought only a wave of cold horror. He shook his head again.

  “Close your eyes and try. Hold the words in your mind.” Meara waited for him to follow her directions.

  He shrugged helplessly. He would prove her wrong, and they would be on their way.

  “Can you hear me?” he probed. Nothing. All he heard was the soft rustle of leaves.

  “Try again.”

  Meara sounded like Orlan when he had tried to teach Kieran to conjure fire from a wand that spouted butterflies. Irritably, he shut his eyes.

  “Can you hear me?” he prodded. The thought of Orlan made him ask the question the same way he’d use the mind link.

  “Yes.” The voice that answered was a rusty buzz.

  Kieran jerked upright. His eyes snapped open.

  Meara settled back as if satisfied that she’d guessed right.

  “How can that be?” he asked in awe.

  “I don’t know. Ask it.”

  “How can you hear me? I thought you could only bond to one other.”

  “Of course.” The egg was annoyed. “But you are the Protector. I must be able to call you.”

  “Protector,” he muttered.

  “What?” Meara asked.

  “It said, I am the protector.” He moved uneasily. “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She sounded as confused as he felt.

  Kieran took a closer look at her. Now that the excitement of the last few minutes was fading, he had time to take in the dark circles rimming her eyes, and the smudges of purple lining her arms—marks of her time alone with the Miandrogas.

  Some Protector. He hadn’t kept her safe for a single day. Her head drooped over the egg. Any moment, she might topple over. He cleared his throat. She glanced up, smiling weakly.

  “Can you walk? There’s a cave ahead,” he said.

  “Yes, I can walk, only . . .” she paused, “can you help me up? My legs are so stiff. I feel like the ancient Crone of Carmeath.”

  Kieran stepped closer, taking the hand, she offered. Her fingers felt cold and fragile. He pulled her up and she stood swaying. The egg chattered.

  Kieran hovered next to her, ready to catch her if she fell.

  “Can she walk?” he asked the egg.

  “We’re tired,” the egg said.

  “I can walk,” Meara interrupted. “I am stiff, that’s all. Lead me to your cave.”

  A rustle of feathers swished overhead. Murkwing settled onto a nearby branch.

  “Your raven showed me where you left the river,” Kieran said, gesturing at the bird.

  Meara smiled. Murkwing swooped down and landed at her feet, his chest puffed and feathers ruffled.

  “He always finds me. I wonder how he does it,” Meara said.

  Kieran shrugged. He didn’t question the link between Meara and the raven. These things happened. Some had an affinity for creature bonds—like the man he’d known who raised the corbin kit. That man passed through the forests with no worry of att
ack.

  “Come, Kieran,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. “Let’s find this hiding place and figure out a way to return the egg to the nest. His strength fades, and I grow weary.”

  Chapter 23

  Danger—be wary.

  Wait—watch!

  In the darkness

  pay heed.

  Translated from the Chronicles of the Egg

  Silence fell over the trees draping the world in stillness. This was something new. Meara had never seen the forest quiet, there was always something moving—trees shook, leaves fluttered and unseen creatures crashed through the brush. Her steps faltered, slowing as her heart rate stuttered and quickened. There—in the shadows at the base of that tree—had something stirred? Wait—behind that skinny branch draping the trail—had she seen the flash of silver eyes?

  Until now, a constant rustle of leaves competed with the squeaks and chirps above. Now the forest appeared to be holding its breath—waiting. She shivered and plodded two steps forward. Her head was down, her arms wrapped tightly around the egg. Something was about to happen. That certainty took root in her imagination and turned her stomach into a churning vat of acid.

  It’s nothing, she told herself. You’re imagining things. Why wouldn’t she after the attack of the worm and the encounter with the Miandrogas, she defended herself. No, she straightened her spine. When had she become such a coward? Kieran would tell her if evil lurked in the quiet of the trees. The egg would be screaming warnings.

  She ran a few steps to catch up with Kieran. Since they had found each other, she couldn’t bear to let him out of her sight. Every time he left her side to hide their trail, dread made her heart pound in panic.

  “It’s all right to be afraid,” the egg soothed.

  “I am not afraid,” Meara defended.

  “Then why do you shake as if a strong wind batters you?” the egg asked politely.

  “It’s the emptiness, the stillness.” She shivered. “It carries—” She groped for a word to describe it. “It holds peace.” The breath she was holding escaped in a soft whisper of surprise. “That’s it,” she said.

  “What’s it?” Kieran called over his shoulder.

  “Why is it so still?” Meara asked, edging closer to him, placing her hand on his arm to stop him.

  “It is the time.” He shrugged.

  She stared at him blankly.

  “The forest never sleeps. Day and night cycle through the seasons without stop, but in the moment before the silver of twilight, the forest rests to gather energy for the coming night. Don’t fear it. We all need time to refocus and build our strength. Don’t the people of the town perform such rituals?”

  “The town celebrates the birth of spring and harvest. This year both are absent, so instead, people seek to survive the rain and last to the end of winter.” She sounded bitter, but the long hunger dulled the edges of hope.

  Kieran didn’t answer. He had seen the way the townspeople acted towards her. He could understand her bitterness. He gestured for her to go ahead and followed, carefully blurring the signs of their passing.

  Since they had found each other, Kieran had been easier to be with. He treated her like a person rather than an object that needed guarding. He’d shown her how to hide a trail and pointed out signs that corbins or other creatures were near. At times, she felt as though he was stuffing her head with knowledge—preparing her in case she had to face the forest alone. Her skin crawled. The forest was fine—when Kieran was with her—but alone with the egg . . . it didn’t bear thinking.

  Kieran’s short distance to the cave was further than she had expected, the trail steep and winding. Any careless step made the loose rock and crumbled clay break apart without warning. A tiny glow of warmth spread through her as she remembered how Kieran remained close to her, his hand out ready to help her over the rough spots.

  “Of course, he does. You carry me,” the egg said sourly.

  “It’s here.” Kieran stopped at the base of a dizzying granite rock fall. “The opening is small, but once you step inside, the cave opens up. It travels back into the mountain, how far, I don’t know.”

  Meara looked doubtfully from Kieran to the rocky cliff.

  “I’ve been inside. It’s empty. The trail is too steep for anything to live there. Once we’re inside, we can rest. We won’t have to worry about Metreo finding us. Look!” He grabbed her shoulders and spun her back to face the jagged cliff. “Can you see the entrance?”

  She narrowed her eyes against the whiteness of the cliff. If there was an opening, the loose rocks and steep grade hid it. She shivered. Once they started climbing, that grade would be beneath them.

  “Come on. You go first. I’ll help you,” he cajoled.

  Meara sighed and tucked the egg more securely into its pocket. A vision of scrambled egg floated through her head. The egg squeaked in protest.

  “My thoughts are private, not for you to listen to,” Meara scolded.

  The egg’s reply was rude and muffled. How did the egg do that—mute its thoughts? She had to learn. After all, she deserved her privacy. Right now, the egg eavesdropped on her every feeling.

  Sighing more sharply, she looked up at the cliff. It was a treacherous composition of loose gravel and white crystals. Once she started climbing, one false step could send her bouncing all the way to the bottom. She snuck a quick peek at Kieran, hoping he had changed his mind. He’d finished securing his pack and bow across his back and was looking back towards the forest.

  “We have to go. I know Metreo is out there. The cave is safe.” He waved his hand at the rocky cliff.

  “Give me a moment.” A spark of temper fired her words.

  Kieran rolled his eyes but kept silent.

  “Well?” the egg said expectantly.

  “I need to plan my path,” Meara muttered peering up at the cliff.

  “Plan as you go,” the egg answered.

  The embankment above stretched to what seemed like infinity.

  “I can’t do it. Find another way,” she said flatly and turned to look at Kieran.

  “There isn’t anywhere else we’ll be safe for the night. You can do it. I’ll help you.”

  “Are you not the keeper of the egg?” the egg said haughtily.

  “Does that mean I have to risk my neck to carry you? Hush, egg, I am thinking,” Meara said hotly.

  “And I grow old.” The egg hmphed and went quiet.

  Meara didn’t answer. She squinted up at the rock, trying to see the faint change in color that Kieran said marked the entrance to the cave. The sun picked that moment to edge past the clouds and its rays turned the wall of rock a dazzling white.

  “We need to go,” Kieran repeated, pointing at the cliff.

  Meara sighed. “Have I any other choice?”

  Kieran didn’t answer.

  “All right then,” she muttered. “Let’s do this.” Where to start though. The cliff was riddled with depressions big enough to use as a toe hold but were they sturdy enough to hold her weight? She dug her toes into one and mentally crossed her fingers as she tested the strength of her foot hold. A trickle of sand sifted from under her foot.

  “Today, Meara,” Kieran said impatiently.

  She waved him off and reached up to grab hold of a stone jutting out from the cliff face. Carefully she pulled herself up. Her foot was level with his shoulders.

  “Good,” he said. “Keep going.”

  She reached higher, wedging her sandals deeper into the bluff. The rock was riddled with small round stones and crumbling sand. The secret was to pick a hole, kick it a few times to see if it would hold her weight and . . . She booted her foot into another hole and reached for another handhold. A cascade of rock and dirt broke free and trickled down on her. She threw herself against the rocky face, scratching at the gravel for support. Her nails turned painfully. Cursing, she lifted her hand at the same time Kieran gave her a shove from below. She flailed for a grip in the loose dirt.

 
“Leave off, Kieran. I will do this my own way,” she said. She glared down over her shoulder. He was laughing, not bothering to hide his amusement. “Do you think this is funny?” The gravel shifted under her. As she struggled for balance, the loose rock broke apart. She rode the slide of dirt to the ground, landing heavily in the gravel at his feet.

  “Are you, all right?” Kieran reached down and helped her stand.

  “Fine.” She rubbed her backside pretending to straighten her cloak.

  “Try again.” He was looking at the trees again, watching the dipping sun. A worried expression lined his face. “We’ll be safer once we’re in the cave. Here at the base of the cliff—”

  “I know,” she cut him off, turning back to the task in front of her. “Don’t help me. I have to do this on my own.”

  This time she knew how to keep her footing in the sifting dirt. She counted her toeholds, keeping her eyes fixed firmly ahead. As she climbed, the dull gray rocks began to shine with scattered bursts of purple. The fading sun powered the crystals and they glowed with violet fire. Beneath her feet, the loose gravel firmed to a hard crust.

  She began to notice details—like the broad-leafed vine stretching like loose netting over the rocky face.

  “The vines are strong. They'll make the climb easier. Trust them,” Kieran called.

  She risked a glance down and the drop turned her weak smile to a clench-jawed grimace. Her stomach plunged and dots swirled in front of her eyes. She sucked in a deep breath.

  Her fingers closed over the first of the hard, dry stalks. The vine had had decades to burrow into the mountainside. It held her weight. The sturdy handgrip dulled the fear she would drop off the cliff and land at the bottom in a pile of broken bones.

  “It’s there.”

  Kieran’s voice so close to her ear made her miss her toehold. She grappled with the vine, her body swinging pendulum-like from the cliff. Flapping her arms, she stretched to touch the vine, wrapping herself into the netting, gasping for breath like a landed fish. Her heart pounded. She rested her cheek against the rough branch as a hand touched her knee. She opened her eyes to find Kieran level with her, one hand causally linked in the vine while he rested in its webbing.