A Trail of Embers

by C A Kinnee

  Metreo and Rahdon stood at the bend in the trail. Metreo’s booted foot rested atop a split stone. His black eyes held a trace of humor.

  “It seems you be destined to lose that which you seek the most. Was the girl a part of the ring of street rats that stole the egg from my friend, Rahdon? Or was it chance that brought it into your possession?”

  The question sounded bored, the watching eyes cynical.

  Kieran’s hand tightened on his bow, turning his fingers eggshell white against the wood.

  “The only theft was yours, Metreo,” he said hotly.

  Metreo shook his head. “It no be theft when one is hired to bring magic to a Mage.”

  “Shakala the dragon won’t see it that way,” Kieran replied, positioning himself closer to Meara. “The only way you will escape her wrath is if you can make yourself invisible.”

  Invisibility. The thought flickered through Meara’s mind. There was a way out. She could take the egg and run. But that meant leaving Kieran. She pulled the egg in closer. Invisibility wasn’t an option. Kieran had warned her that little trick could go powerfully wrong. He said magic fed the darkness and gave the evil strength.

  “Enough! Give me the egg!” Rahdon marched forward to snatch it from her.

  Meara shook her head and stepped back, ducking out of reach of his grasping fingers.

  “Rahdon.” Metreo’s tone was softly chiding. “Don’t you want to know how the young lady gained ownership of the egg?”

  “Enough, Metreo, cease mocking me. I grow tired of your games. Kill them now!”

  “Kill them? You jest. This is no killing matter.” He cast a fleeting look at Meara. “My friend Rahdon serves the glory of the Mage. He hopes some of that eminence will rub off on himself, at least in the eyes of the ladies.” Metreo’s face grew stony. “If he could keep his mind on the task and not the ladies, the theft would not have occurred in the first place.” Metreo looked searchingly at Meara. “How did you rescue the egg from the thieves?”

  Meara didn’t answer.

  “No matter. We found the thieves. The street rats were willing to tell us where they hid the egg, but Rahdon was impatient. Sometimes, the threat of death is more effective than the action.”

  Rahdon’s gaze sent frost licking down Meara’s spine. Judging from the deadness in his eyes, it was plain what fate he planned for them. Her throat closed, sealing in her words.

  The giant met Rahdon’s look with a steely one of his own.

  “You know, Rahdon, I tire of you,” he said idly.

  “I care not for your feelings, Metreo. You be hired to do a job. Do it!”

  “I be thinking no job worth dealing with the likes of you. Consider me resigned from your master’s hire.” The big man’s foot lifted from the stone. He swung around and hefted his pack.

  “Metreo!”

  Metreo paused, looked back and shook his head. He took two steps.

  “No man quits the hire of the Mage. Remember his words, ‘No job is done until you are.’ You be done now.” Twin balls of fire exploded from Rahdon’s hand. They slammed into the broad chest of the giant. Blue light bathed Metreo’s face. His eyelids flickered and his eyes rolled back in his head. He fell slowly, like a great tree toppled by lightning. The mist rose up to devour him, swirling greedily over his fallen form.

  A pleased smile touched Rahdon’s thin lips.

  “And now.” His voice dripped, honey sweet. “The egg.”

  “The fog.” The egg moaned. “He’s awakened the armies.”

  Meara watched in fascinated horror as the mist heaved against the barrier. Thunder crashed overhead. The clear space between them and the wall of fog turned cloudy. The wall holding back the mist flexed and bulged. The swell expanded. Tiny cracks formed on the surface. Slowly the microscopic tears grew, fracturing, crackling and breaking. With an ear-shattering crash, the wall shattered. Pearly mist poured through the opening. Before her eyes, tentacles of mist warped and grew, solidifying into a legion of ghostly soldiers.

  Kieran grabbed her arm and pulled her back. A finger of fog lifted away from the rest. The tentacle stretched delicately and slid through the opening. It reached for Meara and touched her face with grave-cold hands.

  “Soon,” the mist sighed.

  The strength ebbed from Meara’s legs and only Kieran’s grip kept her upright. The smoky feelers fed on her fear and burgeoned into fat clouds that eroded the barrier further.

  “That Metreo, he be thinking he knows all, but I be thinking he’ll grow rot before long. No one walks away from the Mage. Give me the egg.”

  Rahdon’s teeth gleamed. He was enjoying his power over them.

  “The Mage be angry it was stolen from him.” Rahdon sneered. “He no be tolerating incompetence. He be the most powerful wizard in three hundred years. The egg of the dragon will secure his place, and the blood of the dragon will make him live forever.”

  The egg squeaked and shivered, cooling to ice.

  “The egg will not go with you,” Meara said.

  “And who will be stopping it?” The man looked her over scathingly. “The egg’s protectors—a thief and a half-grown woodsman? You think a scrawny girl will stand in my way?”

  Kieran’s fingers tightened on her arm. “The Mage has no power here.”

  “The Mage’s power is absolute. Give me the egg!” Rahdon was out of patience.

  He lifted his hands, sweeping them together, gathering the air in his palms. Blue fire danced from his fingertips.

  “Hear me and give me power!” he roared.

  “Kieran!” Meara shouted, grabbing his cloak.

  The flame flared to a blazing inferno. The mist warriors surged against the barrier. For a moment, Meara thought Kieran’s wall would hold. The mist soldiers fell back and regrouped. They struck the crack in a writhing rush. The divining spell shattered. The ghosts howled through the opening, tossing Meara aside in their need to reach the source of the magic.

  Rahdon screamed, his voice a high-pitched wail as the spectral soldiers descended on him.

  The mist exploded snatching Meara up and tossing her like a ball. She hit the ground in a broken heap. Gasping for breath, she tried to push herself up. The ghosts shrieked and the world turned black.

  Chapter 28

  Danger—be wary.

  Wait—watch!

  In the darkness

  pay heed.

  Translated from the Chronicles of the Egg

  Meara groaned and opened her eyes. Dots swirled in front of them—dizzying threads of white and black that careened in a swirling kaleidoscope. Slowly, the dots solidified into the ravaged city. Digging an elbow into the soft dirt, she pushed herself upright and stared blankly at the plain in front of her. Giant pillars of iron touched the sky—warped broken things folding in on themselves before collapsing into ugly jagged spikes. Massive craters filled with algae-slicked water dotted the flatland, reflecting the dull gray of the sky. Something struck the surface of one of the pools and a ripple of circles swept the water. Meara turned her head too fast and the dots spun off in new directions. The egg moaned.

  “Where’s Kieran?” she demanded, careful to move slowly.

  “Kieran . . . You will not find him.” Laughter seeped from the broken ruins. The collapse of the barrier had freed the ghosts. They crawled inside her head, mocking her. She shook her head violently, trying to dislodge them.

  “Courage,” the egg whispered and fled to silence.

  “Come to us. He is gone,” a singsong voice intoned.

  “Join with us. Together we will devour the light,” purred another.

  Meara clapped her hands over her ears.

  “You need us,” cajoled a gentle voice.

  “Look to me,” the egg sounded far away. “I can help you to resist them.”

  Meara hugged the egg, resting her cheek on it, letting its warmth bathe her. The voices grew muffled.

  “To find peace,” the egg said, “you must empty your mind of fear.” Th
e egg’s voice whispered in her ear.

  Meara closed her eyes and touched her amulet. A wave of calm swept her. The ghosts growled and retreated. She opened her eyes again and looked out over the ruined city, hunting for a sight of Kieran. She spotted him curled in a ball at the base of a stunted tree. He was closer to the fog when the barrier collapsed. The blast had tossed him further.

  “We must hurry or the fog will take him,” the egg said.

  Meara saw what the egg had sensed. The mist surrounded Kieran swirled hungrily over him, absorbing him.

  “No!” She forced herself up feeling as if her legs would collapse beneath her weight. Unsteadily, she lurched across the spongy ground.

  “You can’t have him. He is mine,” Meara shouted at the gathering mist.

  “Mine, mine, mine,” mocked a ghost.

  “We can take him,” taunted a wispy voice. “Go from here. We will grant you safe passage with him as your payment.”

  Meara dropped to her knees beside Kieran. She rolled him onto his back. The effort left her panting, but she pushed the dizziness aside and lifted his head, cradling it in her lap. Fingers shaking, she fumbled to loosen the neck of his cloak and plunged her icy hand into the gap. She groped for a pulse. The thud of his heart pounded beneath her fingertips—strong and steady. Meara offered up a silent blessing. He was alive. When would he awake? Gently she wiped the blood from his eyes with the edge of her cloak. Fresh blood oozed from a cut on his forehead. It mixed freely with the water dripping from his hair.

  “Kieran.” She shook his shoulder.

  The egg shivered. “The old evil . . . We must go. It comes! The magic has awakened it.”

  The voices fled. A slow silence overtook the city.

  “. . . have to go now,” the egg whispered.

  Kieran stirred. His eyes flickered open.

  “What happened?” He winced and reached for his head.

  “You were right about magic. Someone should have told Rahdon.” Relief added a cocky edge to her words.

  Kieran smiled weakly and struggled to sit up. “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  His voice was unsteady, his color waxy gray. His eyes met Meara’s and the worry she saw in them brought a warm blush to her cheeks. Her spirits rose.

  The egg squashed her thrill of happiness.

  “Of course, he cares if you are well. He is the Protector. We must go!”

  She ignored the egg’s dampening words. “A few bumps and bruises.” She shrugged. “What else is new?”

  “Help me up.” Kieran extended his hand towards her.

  She scrambled to her feet and reached down. His hand closed over hers, and he rose shakily, turning to look over the barren ruins.

  “Rahdon’s gone,” Meara said in answer to his unspoken question.

  “So is the fog,” Kieran muttered grimly. “. . . and Metreo,” he added as the disappearance of the giant’s body struck him.

  Meara towards the spot the giant had fallen. Kieran was right, Metreo was gone. Had the mist absorbed him? Had it carried him off to whatever hell existed here? She shivered. She would almost prefer to see the fog rather than the tangled mess of steel and fragmented rocks strewn over the ground like crumbs in a hen house.

  “We must go!” the egg repeated. “He comes!”

  Kieran and Meara looked around.

  “Who comes?” Kieran asked.

  “The General,” the egg answered.

  The human two exchanged glances. To them the absence of fog and the banishment of the voices meant safety.

  “No,” the egg said. “Remember the Meeachon Wars, Protector. Vile things were created here, vile things that have slept until the scent of magic woke them.”

  “What is it?” Mears whispered. Her stomach dropped as Kieran’s expression turned to horror.

  “The egg is right. We have to move.” Kieran bent and freed his pack from where it lay under a metal rod. He grabbed his bow from the edge of a deep crater of mud. Throwing the pack and bow over one shoulder, he turned back to Meara.

  “The egg is talking about what happened during the final battle of the Meeachon wars. The evil of that one battle makes it stand alone in history. The few scholars that survived its brutality brought word of the city’s end back to our people. The last men and women choosing to leave Confluence had cleared the gates of the city and reached the edge of the forest when Darone and his armies arrived. Caught between that army and bands of roaming Miandrogas, they hid in the forest, awaiting the outcome of the battle, hoping to rescue or help the survivors after the fight. Instead they witnessed the fall of Confluence.”

  “But why did they leave the city? Only a fool would leave the safety of a walled town. Vendonne survived the wars because of its gates. Those gates kept the attackers at bay.”

  “The scholars were arbiters—peaceful people who had hoped to convince the people of Confluence to abandon their city and join with Makeion. The people of Confluence were too proud to leave. They mocked the scholars and paraded the clonons before them, bragging of their invincibility.”

  The egg shuddered. Kieran paused, listening to something the egg wanted only him to hear.

  “Yes, too much blood,” he muttered.

  “What?” Meara demanded. “Why are you speaking only to Kieran? I have a right to know what’s happening.”

  “The egg worries. He thinks the clonons were insatiable for the taste of blood, that it was that hunger that gave them their strength,” Kieran continued.

  “But the ghosts are gone. We can rest. Look, the mist has cleared. We aren’t blind any more. Anything that comes near to us, we will see soon enough to make our escape.” Meara gestured at the empty plain.

  For a moment, Kieran looked tempted, but the egg spoke again. This time it didn’t mask its words.

  “When all had fallen in the rout of battle, Darone descended from his charger. He had vanquished all and stood conqueror. Cities bled. The few survivors were thrown into the mines of Laurana and worked until death claimed them. From the blood of their despair and Darone’s greed, the great mages sprang. Do you remember your history, Protector?” The egg’s voice was harsh and probing.

  Kieran looked around.

  “What?” Meara demanded.

  “Come on.” Kieran grabbed her arm and towed her forward.

  Judging by the tight set of his lips and the careful way he moved, he was hurting. Though he had been knocked senseless and thrown further than Meara, he still set a punishing pace that left her struggling to keep up. Clearly, he wanted distance between them and the silent ruins. A stitch ached in her side. She breathed past it, running behind him. Soon sweat trickled down her face, pooling in the neck of her cloak. The incline steepened and the trail narrowed. The trees grew taller and straighter. The blight faded into healthy foliage.

  Kieran reached back and helped her up the last rocky step. They were at the top of a steep bowl-shaped canyon.

  “Look!” Meara grabbed his arm, her exhaustion forgotten in the sight below.

  The mist had closed back over the dead silent wreck of the ancient city. The voices of the ghosts reached for her, but they were too far away to be clear. As she watched, the mist began to boil—great tentacles of fog reaching up, slashing at the air in empty rage.

  “It’s like a bowl of serpents,” Kieran muttered.

  “Are we safe now?” Meara didn’t wait for an answer. She sank onto the rocky shelf and cradled the egg. If she had seen this witch’s cauldron before they passed through it, Kieran would have had to tie her up and drag her.

  He dropped down beside her. “I hope we are. I don’t think I could go another step without rest.” His words mirrored her fatigue.

  They sat together, staring down at the seething fog.

  The egg interrupted. “We must go on. How far to the land of your people?”

  “Not far. By nightfall, we should reach the cliffs.”

  “What do you think happened to Metreo and Rahdon?” Meara asked. A part of
her regretted the death of the giant. He hadn’t stood in Rahdon’s way, but he had refused to be a part of their deaths.

  “I don’t know. Maybe evil returns to evil. If the egg is right and that truly is the place of the last battle, then it was a place of great horror. Even now, you can feel the hatred.” Kieran paused. “Darone cared only about wealth and power. He slaughtered the survivors of the siege, or if they were young, sent them to Laurana. I think the ghosts are what’s left of his evil. Before we reached the top of the canyon wall, I thought I heard the sound of hoof beats. I thought . . .” He stopped.

  “I thought I saw the shadow of a man— a big man in armor, bigger than Metreo—on a massive horse.” Had Kieran seen him too?

  “They say Laurana sprang from the evils of Darone. He took to calling himself the Mage of Remarne. The mages still reign in Laurana.” He shook his head thoughtfully. “Even in the forest, we hear whispers of the outside world.” He shrugged. “The Meeachon Wars were a long time ago.” He changed the subject. “By tomorrow night, we’ll meet the First and my people. They’ll have more than berries and jerky to fill our bellies.” He gave Meara a worried look.

  “Shall we go?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  The abrupt withdrawal was hurtful. She fell into step behind him, brooding over what he didn’t say. Was he so anxious to be rid of her? Once again, he had built a wall between them. He was so confusing. One moment he laughed and shared his thoughts, the next he was distant—like a stranger. It was easier to be alone. Once they found his First she would return to her own way of life. This worrying about others was tiresome.

  Chapter 29

  Danger—be wary.

  Wait—watch!

  In the darkness

  pay heed.

  Translated from the Chronicles of the Egg

  They stopped to catch their breath by a clear stream where schools of fat brown trout hung in thick wedges, idly fanning their fins. Icy water bubbled past the looming boulders, barely checked by the smooth, rounded stones strewn in its path. Overhead, ancient fir and cedar scraped the sky, seeking the sun’s blessing. The thick mulch of the forest floor made walking easy, and Meara amused herself by watching the antics of the squawking black and white birds flitting through the spiky rapier ferns. The ferns themselves fascinated her. They grew in vast hillocks that split the earth and towered high above her head.