A Trail of Embers

by C A Kinnee

  “Sorry,” he said. “I thought it would help if I climbed up.”

  “It’s okay,” Meara answered, but she didn’t release her death grip on the vine. “Where’s the entrance to this cave of yours?” She stared at the rocky face seeing only crystals and leaves.

  He grinned.

  She smiled back, mesmerized by the way the look transformed his stony face. His unexpected smile checked the tart remark that had been so quick to her lips. She stared at the rock but saw nothing.

  His grin broadened. “Hide beneath the enemy’s nose,” he said. “Look to your left.”

  Meara craned her head obediently in that direction, squinting at the brightness, trying to see what he did.

  “I don’t . . .” her voice trailed off. She saw it, the tiny break in the rock, and turned sharply to look at him. The ground beneath her swirled. She tightened her grip on the spiny wood.

  “If you can’t see it when you are right on top of it, others won’t either. I’m coming up. I’ll go first.” The thick green leaves rustled as he climbed past her and dropped beneath the vine.

  “Kieran?” she whispered.

  He answered in a disembodied voice. “Slide your hand through the leaves—you’ll find the opening.”

  Blindly, she groped at the empty space, half-expecting razor-sharp claws to tear her arm from her body. She clenched her eyes shut, mumbled a plea to the Great One as she gathered her courage.

  “Meara?” Kieran called again.

  Her breath escaped in a lingering hiss. It was time. She slipped beneath the leafy curtain and slid through the narrow opening. Inside, her feet found solid ground as blackness encompassed her. Blinking owlishly, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She heard Kieran moving, his actions deafening in the suffocating blackness. At least she hoped it was Kieran. She shivered. The air was damp and musty; smelling of ancient things long forgotten.

  “It’s okay. I’m right here. Wait, I’ll make a light.”

  More noises in the dark, and then, “Amea.”

  A brief flash blinded her. White smoke trickled dully against the blackness.

  Kieran swore. The intensity behind his words made Meara smile.

  “Merdon, why don’t you teach me something that works? The next time I see Orlan, I will . . .” His words returned to low-pitched muttering.

  “Amea,” he said more firmly.

  A spark popped and sizzled. It dwindled and roared back to life in a fiery ball. Kieran hastily dropped the ball of fire onto the rocky floor and stepped back. He looked up at Meara and smiled smugly.

  “It will burn until I command it to fade. Don’t worry,” he added on seeing her expression. “It won’t spread. It’s not fire, just light.”

  “It’s magic,” Meara said, shifting away from the ball of flame.

  Magic. She watched the glowing ball. No good came of being near things that sprung from wizardry, especially Kieran’s brand of wizardry. She waited for the roof to fall or a bolt of lightning to strike, but nothing happened. The light shone on steadily, pushing the shadows back to the corners of the cave. Relief rolled over her, leaving her legs rubbery. Kieran was right, the cavern was empty. Just in case, she stared harder at the murk—nothing moved.

  “The light will protect us from creatures that like the dark,” Kieran said, busy digging through his pack.

  “Creatures?”

  “There aren’t any creatures,” Kieran soothed. “But if there were, they would be things that like the dark. They’ll avoid the light.”

  A rush of panic passed through Meara. She clenched her teeth. Merdon, she was buried within the earth. Around her, she could feel the cave breath. If the globe of light went out . . . Goose bumps skittered up her arms.

  “How did you find this cave?” she said.

  “A raeling,” Kieran answered.

  She looked questioningly at him.

  “Those things you think look like cute little dust motes. They live in the trees and gather seeds.”

  “Raeling.” Meara shifted position. Dung throwers—disgusting creatures. Her eyes dropped to the bare toes peeking out from beneath her cloak half-expecting to see piles of offal splattered about the cave. “Do they nest here?”

  “They’re harmless. They nest in trees, not in caves.”

  “Then why would it come in here?”

  Kieran shrugged. “It dropped something and vanished. When I climbed up to see where it went, I almost fell through the opening. There’s a bigger cave in back. Do you want to see it?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head firmly. The looming shadows at the entrance were bad enough. She didn’t need to go further. The cave made her feel small and insignificant. And, she decided grumpily, if she had to worry about creatures that liked the dark, she wouldn’t be leaving their only source of light any time soon.

  “We’re safe,” Kieran continued. “No one can find the cave by night. We will sleep here, and come morning, find Orlan and the First.”

  “Orlan?” Meara asked.

  Kieran glanced sharply at her. His expression grew guarded.

  “My brother,” he said curtly. “You will meet him soon.”

  “How do you know that he is looking for you?” She was curious at the mention of his brother. Besides, asking questions gave her a break from watching for raelings.

  Kieran smiled. “For one thing, Orlan will be so angry that he’ll follow me across the earth to point out all my wrongs. I left him behind. Orlan is the older of us by minutes, but he claims the right to tell me what to do. We share something called the twin link. We can speak to each other from a distance.”

  She eyed him skeptically.

  “It’s like the egg and your bond. Orlan and I are twins. At times, we share our thoughts.”

  “Can you speak to him now?” she asked doubtfully.

  “No.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t always work. I can sense him just enough to know that they are coming.”

  Meara looked down at the globe of light. At its center, colors danced in a flickering rainbow. Hesitantly she reached a hand towards it. It held no heat, just the dancing colors. She poked her finger at it and the finger disappeared into the flame. She pulled her hand back and looked at him curiously.

  “How do you do this magic? Can you teach me?” she asked, her fear of wizardry swallowed up by fascination.

  He shrugged. “These are simple tricks. I am no wizard. Orlan is an apprentice. Sometimes he shows me how to do things, probably so he can laugh when the spell goes wrong.”

  “Like Zarnache’s leg?” She smiled at the memory.

  “Yes, well, that was a mistake. I only meant to call down fire.” He shrugged. “Like I said, sometimes Orlan leaves things out so he can laugh.”

  “Poor Zarnache probably wouldn’t agree with you . . . That bag you wear around your neck, what is it?” Her fingers travelled to her own neck and she touched her own small bag.

  “It’s a form of protection, a talisman. It was put around my neck at birth.”

  He looked at the bag she held. She lifted the cord over her head and offered it to him.

  “No.” He shook his head regretfully. “It belongs to you. It would be wrong of me to touch it, like invading your privacy.”

  “What does the bag mean?” She resettled the cord around her neck. “Shay Lann—my friend—said it was around my neck when she found me. She told me that I should never take it off.”

  “Do you know where the bag came from?”

  She shook her head.

  Kieran looked disappointed. He continued, “The First says each amulet reflects the magic inside of you. Mine lets me find things. My gift is tracking. Orlan’s is different.” Pride resonated in his voice at the mention of his brother. “The council says Orlan has a strong aptitude for magic, that one day he’ll be a great wizard.”

  “But you, you won’t be a wizard? Does it bother you what your twin can do and you can’t?” She was prying. She couldn’t help it. T
his tiny glimpse into his life fascinated her. What would it feel like to have a brother or sister? To have a standing in the place where you lived. She pushed away the wistful pang the thought invoked. She was better alone.

  “It did for a long time, but now,” he sounded surprised, “I have different skills. Orlan couldn’t find his way out of a sack, and he makes more noise in the forest than you do. Everyone’s magic or special senses are different.”

  “But the amulet, what does it contain?” Her fingers laced tightly around the bag.

  “A small well of magic, or at least that’s what Orlan says. Like mine, I can learn a few simple tricks. Once I cast a spell, I have to wait for the magic to rebuild. It takes a long time. With Orlan, the magic is always there. The amulet helps him focus. He doesn’t need it to do magic, not now, anyway.”

  Meara pondered his words. What about her amulet? Where had it come from? She settled onto the floor of the cave beside the glowing ball and crossed her legs, wrapping her arms around them, resting her chin on top of her arms. She would trust Kieran was right and the raelings were safely in their nests for the night.

  “Have you ever tried to put anything inside it?” she asked.

  He dropped down to sit beside her.

  “Why? Did you?”

  She nodded.

  “And?” he prodded.

  She shook her head. “Nothing. I felt nothing, but I couldn’t make anything go into the bag. Do you think—?” She didn’t know how to ask what she wanted to know the most.

  “Meara, how did you end up in the walled town? I mean, you aren’t one of them, anyone can see that.”

  “I don’t know. Shay Lann found me on the streets of the old quarter. She said I stood out like a little black crow. It doesn’t pay to be different in old town. The tribunal is harsh.” She stared into space. “They wanted to throw me down a well. I don’t remember much, except for being cold and frightened.” And the dreams . . . but they were only dreams so they didn’t count. “Shay Lann saved me and took me out of there. We went to live in the district of the inns and there she met Baylon par Dimion.”

  “The innkeeper?” Kieran asked.

  Meara smiled. “Yes. Baylon took one look at Shay Lann and he was lost. He would do anything for her. As for me, well, I am not a proper citizen of the walled town. It’s better for her if I stay away. It’s good. Baylon is very protective of Shay Lann.” She wrinkled her nose. “I make my own way.”

  Kieran didn’t say anything.

  Meara poked at a loose thread on her cloak. She was conscious of the egg at the edge of her thoughts. It was always there, a tiny knot in her head that she couldn’t explain. Right now, it slept, exhausted by all that had happened. She should be following its example, but sleep eluded her.

  Kieran dug into his pack, pulled out a piece of jerky, and broke it in half. He offered it to her, and she took it gratefully.

  “We have to be careful, there isn’t much left. Maybe tomorrow, we will find something to replace it.”

  “What is it like to live in your forest?” she asked.

  Kieran shrugged. “What is like to live in your town?” he parried the question with one of his own.

  “Cold . . . lonely.” The egg had said those same words to her when she had first found it. “I’m a misfit—Meara no name. With no name, I have no bloodline to trace.”

  “Meara No Name sounds like a name to me,” Kieran said.

  She smiled gratefully. “Not a proper name . . . Meara par Nothing.” It was her turn to shrug. “The people place great importance in tracing which house you belong to. Even the poorest beggar has a link to a house. Me, I have nothing. Shay Lann found me. She wanted to adopt me, but because I am without name, no one knows what evil I carry.”

  “Being without a name means that you are linked to the dark?” Kieran asked.

  She smiled at his disbelief.

  “It was a long time ago. I make do. I beg, steal or . . .” She frowned at the memory of the fat lady. “. . . run errands. I’m not so good at stealing. That’s what got me into this mess. I stole an apple and it brought me to the egg.”

  Should she tell him what had passed between the egg and her in the alley? He would think her touched. She would keep it to herself.

  “We should try and sleep,” he said.

  She nodded. She was exhausted. A fuzzy net of fatigue encircled every muscle. “Alright.” She smothered a yawn. “Kieran, if I dream will you wake me?”

  He looped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. She leaned against him, grateful for the warmth. His cloak smelled like the rich cedar of the forest. It was soft beneath her cheek. She yawned. Her eyes burned with gritty fire and she could barely keep them open. She abandoned the struggle and let them close. A few minutes rest—that was all she needed. Rest, not sleep. That way, she would avoid the dreams. Right now, she wasn’t equal to wrestling night demons. Within minutes, her breathing changed to the regular pattern of sleep.

  Beside her, Kieran the Protector leaned against the wall of the cave and stared at the glowing ball, standing watch over her dreams.

  Chapter 24

  Danger—be wary.

  Wait—watch!

  In the darkness

  pay heed.

  Translated from the Chronicles of the Egg

  A thin sliver of light filtered through the web of leaves hiding the entrance to the cave. Wherever it touched amethyst crystals glowed purple fire. Meara’s eyelids fluttered open to the staccato chirps of the egg.

  “What is it?” She rolled to her feet, scanning the cave for danger.

  “Shh!” Kieran waved her to silence. He crawled to the narrow opening, flattened himself to the ground and stared down the cliff face.

  “What? What is it?” Meara whispered again.

  She crept over to him and dropped down beside him, so close her shoulders touched his as she peered past him.

  “Wait,” Kieran said touching her arm. “The light will reflect off your face.” He grabbed a handful of soft dirt and smeared it onto her nose, cheeks and chin before doing the same to his own face.

  “Now look,” he said squirming to the side so she could see.

  “Merdon!” She clasped her hands over her mouth.

  Kieran glanced down at her. He shook his head.

  “I doubt Metreo can hear you over that,” he said, nodding at the two men below.

  “Wait! I own you! Stop! I can’t climb this!” Rahdon’s shrieks drowned out every other sound.

  Kieran was right. Metreo would never hear her under the racket the blonde man was making.

  “How did they find us?” she asked.

  “I think Metreo is as able a tracker as any scout,” Kieran replied, a thoughtful look on his face.

  Meara looked back down the rock face. The men were still below the webbing of vines.

  “Pick up your feet, man,” Metreo growled as Rahdon lost his balance and plunged downward. He grabbed the back of Rahdon’s cloak and hauled him up.

  “This is a fool’s trip.” Rahdon raged. “Not even a goat would climb this. We should have gone around. You and your feelings! Why you don’t listen to me . . .”

  Metreo didn’t answer. He dragged Rahdon past another loose fall of rock and kept climbing. The sun reflected off of his black and white face, glinting on the row of silver rings above his left eye. As if sensing Meara’s gaze, he lifted his head and stared directly at the entrance. Meara ducked.

  “What is it?”

  The egg’s whisper made her stifle her fear. She knew what happened when the egg was afraid. She had to keep it calm or the men would find them.

  “Nothing. We are safe. Be still and rest,” she soothed. Too bad the words didn’t calm her own jangled nerves.

  Kieran poked her arm and nodded towards the tree line.

  “Your raven.”

  Murkwing fluttered down from a high cedar and landed on the ragged branch of an elm tree. He cocked his head to one side and measured the
men’s progress with beady eyes. Finally, he stirred restlessly, puffed out his chest and raised the feathers at his neck in an ebony caul. He opened his beak and screeched a long throbbing call. As the final warble died, a shadow passed over the face of the cliff. A cloud of ravens took wing, the silken swish of their feathers loud in the stillness as they began a black orbit over the interlopers.

  Metreo settled back, leaning into the cliff, tracking the progress of the birds. Rahdon stopped his bumbling climb and grabbed at the opening of his cloak trying to free his bow. His movements were slow and awkward. He’d trapped the bowstring with the weight of his pack.

  Metreo clamped a big hand onto his shoulder and stilled his struggles.

  His gravelly voice carried to the watchers. “Be still, man. Have you never seen a gathering of the dark ones? You bring them down on us and you’ll find yourself bouncing until you hit bottom. When you hit bottom, I’ll make sure you do more bouncing.”

  Meara smiled at the discomfiture of the man below. The pretty one would not risk marring his face.

  The ravens wheeled overhead, jostling each other for wing space.

  “There are hundreds of them.”

  Her whisper was barely audible, but Kieran shook his head silencing her.

  “The eyes of Laurana are on us. The Dark One knows we fail him,” Rahdon whimpered.

  Metreo’s eyes rolled. He turned back to the milling birds.

  “The ravens watch you, man. Maybe they be hungry for a piece of pretty pie.”

  Rahdon blanched and sank against the cliff, trying to wiggle into Metreo’s shadow.

  “You have to keep me safe. The Mage will know if you don’t.”

  Metreo stilled and turned his obsidian eyes to Rahdon.

  “I will fulfill my contract and find the egg but hear me now. I will not seek employment with your master again, no matter what the reward.” His voice was colder than an avalanche falling from snow-capped mountains.

  “If the Mage calls, you will heed him. All will bow before him.” Rahdon’s voice rang out startling the ravens. More birds roosting in the treetops, took wing. Whirring, and calling, they flew close to the men perched on the face of the cliff. Their wings stirred the air buffeting the cloaks of Metreo and Rahdon.