A Trail of Embers
Page 25
Kieran’s thoughts returned to Meara. What if the light he left her went out . . . what if she fell? His heart gave a painful lurch.
The enjeening! He hadn’t told her of the metal boxes riddling the caves. His pace stuttered. He hadn’t told her the secret to the boxes! A sizzling explosion of blue lit the sky followed by the booming crash of thunder. He was running flat out before the last jagged flare faded.
He sensed the swarm before he saw them. The line of raggedly dressed men straggled up the ridge in front of him. He pulled his bow from his shoulder and sent an arrow flying. His fingers fetched another before he ducked beneath the branches of a towering cedar. Grimly, he concentrated on delivering a rain of arrows. If he was to give Meara a chance at escape, he had to draw them off. He merged with the shadows, running hard, scanning the forest for the Mage’s men. Where was she?
***
Meara’s breath rasped through her throat. Shades of darkness surrounded her, drifting closer with each passing second. Staring into the darkness reinforced the fact she could see nothing. Terror bled through her veins turning her blood to ice. The tiny sounds leaking from the murk united and blossomed into a discordant clamor. Huddled at the base of the ladder, Meara waited, hoping whatever made the noise would pass her by.
A sharper clicking sound separated itself from the racket. It rose to a strident screeching and rushed towards her. Meara scuttled backwards. The metal rungs of the ladder bit into her shoulders. Reaching up, she wrapped her shaking hand around the lowest rung and stared into the dark. The noise stopped.
“You have to make a new one.” The darkness didn’t frighten the egg.
A hysterical bubble of laughter escaped from Meara.
“Make a new one? With what? Do you see a wizard?”
“You doubt yourself too much. Do what the Protector did.”
The egg’s confidence seeped through her terror.
“How?”
She waited for the egg’s answer.
“How?” she repeated.
The egg’s frustration screamed through the bond. Clearly, she wasn’t living up to his standard of how the bonded one should behave.
“I know not. I am an egg. If I were a full-fledged dragon, we would not be in this mess! Use that thing you have around your neck and say the word the Protector used.”
Meara’s hand rose to the amulet. Was the egg, right? Could she do it? Kieran wasn’t a wizard, yet he conjured the ball of light. She had to try, or she would go mad imagining what lurked on the other side of the darkness. She closed her eyes and a wild giggle escaped. Her eyes popped open. Why shut your eyes when you are surrounded by blackness? No matter. Better to close them and shut out the shadows. It helped her calm down, and it let her seek the sense of peace she needed. She wrapped her fingers around the soft leather bag feeling its warmth.
“Amea,” she whispered.
A spark jumped in the darkness. It sputtered and went out. Despair seeped through her.
“You give up too easily,” the egg scolded.
Angrily, she glared in its direction.
“Can you do better?”
“I . . . am . . . an . . . egg! You must do it!”
For a moment, Meara wished the egg was a full-grown dragon. That way it would have a neck that she could wring. The thought brought a faint smile to her face. Wringing the neck of a dragon probably wasn’t one of her smartest ideas.
She closed her eyes again and gripped the amulet more firmly.
“Amea!” she said forcefully.
Sparks flickered. A light flared in the darkness. It wavered, dwindled and roared upward before coalescing into a glowing blue ball. The flame danced in her palm, shining brightly, pushing back the shadow world. Meara closed her eyes in relief, and then quickly opened them to check that the light was still there.
Cradling the cool flame, she thanked the Great One for allowing her to conjure it, and then took her first look at the cave. That almost made her wish for a return to blackness.
This cave was nothing like the one from before. This one was a narrow tunnel with rocky floors and walls dripping with water. Something scuttled across her fingers. She snatched her hand away and the light flared brighter. A strident screech sounded next to her ear. She flinched and smacked her head against the rung of the ladder.
A fat gray bug clung to the metal rung. Its long threadlike antennas gyrated up and down as it emitted another creaking scream. Launching itself into the air, it hovered in front of her face, its wings buzzing angrily. With shocking speed, it dive-bombed past her ear. She swatted it away, knocking it to the ground. Leaping up, she stomped on it, jumping up and down in a frenzied dance.
“I hate bugs. I hate this cave. I—”
“It’s dead, you know,” the egg said. “You can only kill it once.”
Meara blew out a shaky breath and stopped her mad leaping. The egg was right. It was a bug, nothing more. She smiled weakly. At least Kieran wasn’t there to witness her melt down. Near the bottom rung of the ladder a marker pointed the way. She took a step in that direction.
Chapter 32
Danger—be wary.
Wait—watch!
In the darkness
pay heed.
Translated from the Chronicles of the Egg
Kieran’s lungs were burning and every step was a fight to keep moving forward. He’d abandoned the scout’s path in favor of a rambling mandagar trail that zigged and zagged over the steep slope. It let him hide his footprints in the forage marks of the heavy animals, but the trail had dwindled to a wreck of broken trees and creeping bogs. His progress slowed to a snail’s pace.
A shattered tree sprouted in front of him. He leapt over it and landed heavily on the other side. The ground, saturated by heavy rains, broke under his weight. He slid down the slope desperately clawing at the broken branches and stunted saplings, trying to stop his fall. He landed at the base of the hillock in a blanket of pine needles and cedar bows. Winded, he lay on his back staring up at the trees and sky above him. He groaned, rolled over and stumbled up.
Spongy leaves and ankle-deep dirt created a sticky quagmire of sucking mud. He struggled through it to the safety of a gnarled elm and sagged against its trunk. His legs burned from the effort of full-out running. He had to stop. He would never have fallen if he were rested. Leaning back against the trunk of the tree, he forced himself to relax and regather his strength. His breath made misty clouds around his face.
The branches created a patchy shelter that protected him from the blowing rain. If elm trees really did repel lightning, he should be able to rest without worrying a bolt would strike him. If they didn’t . . . he slumped against the rough bark—at least he had drawn the swarm away from Meara and the egg. They now followed him, but the mandagar trail had cost him his lead.
“Orlan?” He reached for the link.
“Kieran, did you do it?” Orlan sounded near, but static from the storm made his words faint and crackling.
“She’s gone,” Kieran said grimly.
“Did you tell her of the markers?”
“Yes.”
“. . . and the egg?” Orlan’s tone sharpened.
“. . . is safe. She would give her life to protect it.”
“As it should be,” was the response.
Kieran frowned. Orlan didn’t know Meara. He saw her as the means to an end. Kieran did know her. He knew she was braver than a mother corbin and would protect the egg to her last breath. He knew something else as well—he knew the caves she was trying to pass through, and his memory of them was growing clearer with every passing moment.
A shower of black and white feathers exploded from the underbrush. Kieran was on his feet before the last bird took wing. The sound of breaking brush and the angry shouts of men forcing a trail through heavy scrub and spindly poplar followed. Kieran pushed away from the tree. Spurred on by the Mage, the swarm was moving faster than should be possible. Their shouts and curses were much too close.
***
Meara soon discovered that the road laid down by Kieran’s ancients had survived the battering of time, but barely. The signs of new and old rock falls were everywhere. The broken ground made treacherous footing. She’d learned the hard way that a second’s inattention meant another layer of mud added to her raggedy cloak. That was the least of her worries. One wrong step could also put an end to her and the egg. She shivered.
It was getting harder to see the ground under her feet. Her ball of flame played with the shadows conjuring deep pools out of shallow puddles. She couldn’t tell how deep the water was. She slid her foot past a sharp outcropping of stone and landed ankle deep in another pool.
“Merdon!” She shook the water off and added a few more colorful curses. The egg sighed and she felt a twinge of guilt. The egg hadn’t asked for this adventure any more than she had. He should be cocooned in his nest, not traveling blindly though the caves.
“Sorry,” Meara said transferring her thought. She seldom spoke aloud now, preferring the speed of linking minds.
Tilting her head, she peered up at the rock walls. They were steadily closing in as if the cave was tightening its grip on the path, trying to trap her in a fist of stone. She took a shaky breath and pushed her hair back. The tangled mess hung in muddy clumps in front of her eyes. Her scalp itched with a constant biting twitch.
“I have to rest,” she mumbled. “I have to stop.” She sank to a seat at the base of a massive boulder, and leaned back, resting her back against the stone.
Drops of water wept from the ceiling and trickled down her face. She lifted the edge of her cloak and wiped them away. The threadbare fabric only smeared the wetness over her skin. Disgusted at the feel and smell of the gritty dirt, she wrung the sopping fabric out. A stream of water dribbled to the ground.
“I will never be dry again,” Meara said sighing as she leaned forward to peer at the road in front of her. Since her last stop, the road had degenerated to a muddy mire studded with broken rocks. Somewhere, in the distance, she heard the sound of fast-moving water rushing beneath the stone.
“Do you hear that?” she asked.
“I don’t like water. You must find a way around it,” the egg ordered.
“We will,” she reassured him. Caring for the egg was becoming an uncomfortably heavy load.
Meara shifted the light globe. Once again, the sight of the blue flame mesmerized her. As if reacting to her glance, the flame roared higher. She smiled. She had conjured the flame. Could she do it again when she wasn’t desperate and afraid?
“Why is this taking so long? Can you not go faster?” the egg complained.
The light dimmed.
“I thought dragons were creatures of magic and ancient knowledge,” she said irritably. “You sound like a whining child asking for a sweet cake.”
The egg huffed and didn’t answer. Meara thought about the egg’s words and reluctantly agreed. This was taking too long. She needed to breathe the fresh scent of the forest again. Once she found her way through this cave, she would never enter another black hole in the earth. No matter how long she stayed beneath the ground, she would always fear the shadows. Her tiny globe of light was no match for their hanging darkness.
“Shadows and water,” the egg said in disgust. “You could have picked a dry cave.”
“Be thankful it’s a dark wet cave with only bugs.”
So far, those dark-dwelling bugs were the only life they had seen. The funny rasping choir of bugs, serenaded them from every shadow. Meara pulled her ratty cloak tighter and passed another look over the darkness, wishing her light reached further.
“There,” she soothed the egg. “Another symbol.”
Once again, the tree was identical to the others. Kieran had warned her that the symbol, although positioned differently, would always be the same. There were other symbols marking other routes, but those were meant to lead the enemy astray.
Was Kieran, right? Were his ancestors hers? Whoever the ancients were, they were brave, braver than her. They had gathered their loved ones and fled their homes, running from Darone and whatever other evils chased them. Had they been afraid of the dark, or were they made of sterner stuff? Had Darone’s men followed them into the caves? She shivered. What had it felt like, cloistered by blackness, surrounded by the muffled sound of breathing and the hushed cries of children, following the tiny pinnacles of light they hoped would lead them to a new life?
Was she one of them? The thought was a drug that slowed her steps. She wanted to believe Kieran was right. No. Stop, she told herself firmly. You are the carrier of the egg and nothing more. Daydreams are a risk you can’t afford to take. Dreams are for fools. They don’t fill your belly and they blow up in your face. She walked faster. She would never find her way through this maze of stone. She needed to breathe fresh air and see the sky. Even rain and wind were better than this. She placed one rubbery leg in front of the other, stopped, and leaned forward to lessen a burning cramp in her side.
The rocky path began another long decent. Chunks of broken limestone grew like weeds under her feet. The walls were closing in. The ceiling drooped lower. The cave narrowed, and the rock walls brushed her shoulders. She was encased in stone.
“Moo,” she muttered.
“What’s that?” the egg said.
“I feel like a cow being forced to market.”
“Do you think it a trap?”
Meara shrugged. “We could go back.”
“No, we must press on.”
The light from the globe danced over the uneven walls. It grew black tunnels out of the gaping cracks riddling the stone. Was it a trap? She lifted her light and studied the smoky whiteness of the crumbling rock.
No, the marker pointed this way. She swung around and smacked her head on a low-lying fold of limestone.
“Ow,” she yelped and staggered back rubbing her forehead. She tripped on a loose rock and fell back against the cave wall.
“Merdon.” She rubbed her elbow. “I can’t see my feet.”
“Make another ball of light,” the egg suggested.
“I can barely carry the one I have. What will I to do with two?”
She leaned against the rock for a few minutes, catching her breath and resting her legs. Something didn’t feel right about this narrow tunnel. As she stared at the long wall of rock, her dread grew.
“Egg,” she said slowly. “It’s a dead end.” Once again, the cave had led them nowhere.
“It can’t be. The symbol marked the way.”
She placed the light at her feet and pushed it forward with her toe. As it rolled, the shadows leapt away. Meara now had a clear view of the far wall of the cave.
“It marked the way—this way—but it’s led us nowhere.”
Another blind alley. She shook her head in disgust and reached for the light.
“No, wait,” she said. “The mark is here at the base of the wall.”
She dropped to her knees and touched the sanded flatness of the etching. This time, the tree was flipped, its foliage pointed down. She followed the direction of the branches to a metal puzzle box half-buried beneath a slide of dirt and rock. Using her hands, she scooped away the debris covering the box. Broken pieces of metal sifted through her fingers.
Her stomach clenched. Carefully, she prodded a finger at the fibrous snarl of threads leaking from the broken metal casing.
“The magic box is smashed.”
She settled back on her heels and propped her shoulders against the wall.
“What do we do?”
The egg didn’t answer. Meara stared at the box. The last box they had found was a key that opened the ground. Would this box have done the same? If it were whole, would it have controlled another seam in the floor?
She sagged in defeat and let out a long slow brea
th of anguish. It didn’t matter now. The ancient slide that covered the ground in a layer of sand and broken rock had put an end to their journey. If there was a seam in the cave floor, it was buried under it.
“You have to try,” the egg said faintly.
“I know,” Meara said.
She leaned forward and scraped at the rocky dirt, searching for the cold metal that marked the floor of the last cave. Slowly, as she labored, a hard ridge of steel emerged from the rubble. Dropping to her hands and knees, she crawled through the gravel pushing the dirt aside, gradually clearing a square of uneven steel.
“I’ve found something,” she said, scrambling faster, shoveling back handfuls of dirt.
What she found was a wide sheet of pockmarked metal stretching the width of the cave floor. Rocking back on her heels, she looked from the battered steel to the cave wall. The ridges of limestone closest to the steel floor were pitted and broken, the stone chipped and clawed.
“Whatever followed the ancients caught up with them here, but it looks like it couldn’t get through the floor.”
“If the ancestors of the Protector passed this way, we must too,” the egg said.
“Yes.” Meara nodded. “But if their enemies couldn’t force their way through, how will we?”
“You will find a way,” the egg said.
“I wish I had your confidence, but this time we are in trouble.”
She cleared another patch of battered metal and for the first time saw the damage clearly.