A Trail of Embers

by C A Kinnee

  “The metal looks as if it was heated and fired by a blacksmith.”

  “Perhaps they had a dragon.”

  “Who knows, egg? We weren’t around to see what happened.”

  She ran her fingers over the seam again. At the center was a narrow gap. She slid one hand inside, wiggling her fingers until she could tuck her other hand in beside it. Bracing herself, she tried to pull the metal apart knowing that the corroded steel wasn’t likely to move.

  “It’s no use,” she said. “I need something to pry it with.”

  She lifted the light and searched the ground for anything she could use to draw the seam apart.

  “There’s nothing,” she said, defeated.

  “You conjured the light,” the egg said.

  “The light won’t help us.”

  “What else can you conjure?” the egg asked.

  Meara frowned. “Nothing, I’m not a wizard.” She went back to studying the seam.

  “I might know a way. If it doesn’t work, then you will have to come up with a plan,” she said finally.

  Absently, she touched her amulet and uttered a quiet plea to the Great One. The bag warmed under her hand. A tingle ran through her fingers.

  She worked the heels of her sandals into the seam and positioned her bottom against the wall. Hands on either side of her feet, she dug in, pulling with all her strength, pushing out with her feet. The tingle arced up her arm.

  “Do you hear that?”

  “No,” Meara said and stopped. All she heard was the thud of her heart and the sound of her grunts. Her fingertips burned. “Your senses are greater than mine. What did you hear?”

  “A clicking. But it’s gone. Try again,” the egg commanded.

  Meara rolled her eyes and returned to straining against the frozen seam. She heard a faint hissing. She stopped.

  “Did you hear that?” she whispered.

  “Keep going!”

  The egg’s shell glowed a soft orange and warmed to match the heat in Meara’s fingers.

  The ground beneath her quivered. Meara’s fingers blazed. She flung herself sideways as the floor split open with a resounding crash that silenced the choir of insects.

  Cautiously, Meara sat up and reached for her light. Lifting it, she peered into the gap, swiped her dripping palms over her cloak, and rubbed her burning fingertips against the wet fabric.

  “It’s some sort of tube,” she said. “Not a tunnel, a tube. The symbol points down.”

  The walls of the tube shone with a gleam like burnished steel but when she touched them, they were soft and pliable beneath her hand. She dug her fingers into them and watched the surface spring back when she released the pressure. There were no ladders leading into the tube. From what she could see, she would have to crawl inside, balancing both the light and the egg. Head first or feet first, on her back or on her stomach? Neither sounded appealing.

  Feet first, she decided. She didn’t know where the tube led. If it dropped out from under her, she wanted to land on her feet, not her head.

  “Courage,” the egg whispered.

  Meara nodded. She closed her eyes and took a breath. She could do this. It was no worse than the Forbidden Zone, or the corbin. She’d faced those on her own.

  She sat and dangled her legs over the hole, leaning forward for one last look. The tube snaked to the left, the steep curve hiding its path from her eyes. The metallic taste of fear coated her tongue making swallowing difficult. Was this another one of the connecting tunnels branching between the caves, or would this tube take them to the outside? The caverns were a tortuous maze with tunnels that doubled back with no warning or opened abruptly into blind hollows.

  She edged her butt over the edge of the opening and wiggled into the mouth of the tube. The walls cocooned around her. Her hands dripped with sweat, and panic made her breath huff in and out in tiny puffs. This was a stupid idea. She started to push herself backwards, desperate for the familiarity of the cave above.

  “The sign says we go this way.”

  She smiled faintly at the egg’s logic.

  “It does but we don’t know where this will take us,” she said.

  “Why does it matter? We’ve never known before and it hasn’t stopped us,” the egg argued.

  True. She couldn’t argue with the egg’s reasoning. They had never known what lay in front of them before. Why was this any different. She took a slow deep breath and touched her amulet. A journey starts with one small step, or wiggle. She dropped deeper into the tube, creeping forward. The space around her shrank. She lay on her back and used her feet and elbows to crab walk forward. Gently, the tube curved to the left, still descending slowly.

  She was making good progress but her position made her arms burn and her back ache. The air settled over her in a humid blanket. Sweat trickled down her face and pooled in her eyes. She couldn’t free her hand to wipe her eyes, so she blinked away the stinging grit. That made her eyes burn more. Acidic tears rolled down her face. Blinded, she stopped and worked her hand free so that she could reach her face.

  “Should we go back?” she asked and kept going.

  The air was getting thicker, heavier. Every breath hurt. The lining of the tube was wet and spongy. A continuous rain of water dropped down on her. She found herself air-hungry, gasping for breath in short, sharp rasps that left her wanting more.

  “I can’t . . . catch . . . my breath. I have to go back,” she said.

  “Just a little further,” begged the egg. “The ancients came this way. I know they did. The symbol marked the tunnel.”

  Meara’s vision was closing in, the walls of the tunnel becoming a gray blur. She hunched her shoulders and worked harder to pull in air. The world began to spin.

  “I can’t.” She collapsed against the floor of the tube.

  “Move,” the egg demanded.

  “I have to rest,” she whispered.

  “Get up,” the egg roared. It sounded like he was shouting in her ear.

  Meara dragged her hand over her dripping face and wiggled forward. Her left foot dropped into a hole. She tried to sit up, but the ceiling was too low. Frantic, she swung her foot in front of her, searching for solid ground. Pinned on her back, she had no way of turning around. Her right foot dropped into the hole beside her left and the roof of the tube lifted abruptly.

  “Wait. I can sit up.”

  She hitched her hips forward. “The tunnel widens—”

  The floor of the tube yawned and swallowed her up. Screaming, she dropped through the hole desperately trying to catch hold of the walls of the tube, kicking at its sides, scrabbling to slow her rate of descent. Friction stripped her sandals from her feet. Her shrieks mingled with those of the egg as she plunged into empty space.

  Chapter 33

  Danger—be wary.

  Wait—watch!

  In the darkness

  pay heed.

  Translated from the Chronicles of the Egg

  A drift of glittering crystals broke Meara’s fall. They exploded around her, swirling like snowflakes, filling her mouth and stifling her scream. Blind and panicked, she fought to the surface, choking and coughing, kicking upward in a fight to reach open air. Her head broke the upper crust and she crawled onto the blanket of white. Flopped on top of it, she panted for breath. She could hear the egg calling but didn’t answer, instead, she rolled over and watched numbly as her light globe tumbled across the top of the drift.

  Something hit the ground in front of her. She flinched and ducked into the path of another falling object. One of the sandals she’d lost in her tumble from the tube, bounced off her head. She closed her eyes and slumped back.

  “Well,” the egg said sourly. “Are you satisfied? My brain is scrambled.”

  Meara opened her eyes and released a shaky breath. “Your brain is scrambled. You have no idea what scrambled is.” Struggling to sit up, she reached over to dig her sandal out of the drift. Leaning forward, she picked up its mate.

&nbs
p; Resettling her shoes onto her feet, she retied the laces and stretched her hand towards the light. Something skittered over her fingers. She recoiled, shivering as the feel of tiny feet lingered on her skin. Using her foot, she hooked the light globe and pulled it towards her. A pale gray salamander hissed and galloped into the darkness.

  “Bugs and lizards—the things I hate the most,” she muttered. “Why does the cave have to be full of things that crawl?”

  “Or water,” added the egg.

  Meara nodded silently in agreement. Gathering the egg and the light into her lap, she flexed her arms and legs. Everything worked. The crystals had protected her from the drop. She didn’t want to think of what would have happened if they weren’t there.

  The egg shivered.

  “It’s okay. It’s over,” she soothed. “The ancients built the tunnel to move their people. Look.” She lifted a handful of spongy white crystals and let them slide through her fingers. “These crystals were meant to cushion our fall. I think, at one time, the tube went right to the ground, but we fell through a hole instead of staying inside. Think about it—the ancients were moving fast, trying to stay ahead of Darone and his soldiers.”

  That thought prompted her to roll onto her hands and knees and crawl to the edge of the drift of crystals. The tube had dropped her into a low-roofed chamber. In front of her was a larger anteroom. Its walls sparkled with radiance. Wherever her light touched, the walls glowed. Enthralled, Meara reached out and touched the glittering surface. It was pillow-soft—like Shay Lann’s feather bed at the inn. She forced herself to move away from the shallow nook before she gave in to the temptation to curl up and take a nap. Scrambling to the edge of the anteroom, she tried to look through a fringe of limestone icicles dripping from the ceiling, but the stony curtain hid her view of the cave beyond.

  “Why are we stopping?” the egg demanded. “We need to keep moving.”

  Meara didn’t answer. She had found a rusting metal ramp leading to the ground below. The ramp’s once polished metal was frayed and pitted by corrosion. Would it hold her weight? Should she risk using it to slide down to the ground below? There wasn’t any other choice. Jumping from the rickety platform while holding the egg and the light would be impossible.

  “Should we slide?” she asked doubtfully. “I don’t know if it will hold our weight.”

  “Mine easily,” the egg said.

  “Shall we send you down first then?” she said tartly. It was hard not to bicker with the egg.

  Receiving no response, she moved closer to the warped platform and tentatively crept out onto the twisted iron grate. It wobbled beneath her, the structure shuddering and groaning under her weight. How much would the platform hold before it toppled to the ground?

  “Well? Are you going to just stand there?”

  “We’ll move in due time. First, we need to make sure it’s safe.”

  Gathering her cloak under her, she sat down gingerly, curling her body protectively around the egg. She used her arms to push off. The metal slide squealed and swayed. In starts and stops, she slid down the ramp. Luck blessed her—she landed at the bottom in one piece. Slowly she stood and lifted the light.

  High over her head was a massive vaulted ceiling of rock. Giant metal boxes dangled precariously from frayed ropes. Some of them had fallen, smashing on the ground below. The cave floor was strewn with bits of metal and broken crystals.

  Meara pulled her eyes from the carnage of glass and metal. She searched the path in front of her, hunting for signs of the etched tree. Seeing it, she puffed out her cheeks and exhaled a breath of relief. It was there, carved into a square stone panel between four giant columns of chipped stone.

  She stepped closer and looked towards the tops of the great columns. The sight stole her breath. The columns were great icicles of rock formed by the slow drip of water and sediment from the roof above. She stared up at the jagged, hanging rocks and followed the stone drips back down to the ground. There the pointed rock joined with asymmetrical columns of gnarled rock sprouting from the earth. Together the rocky growths melded, creating the great columns that guarded the etched tree. Around the base of the columns a milky foam of water formed puddles of lumpy stone soup.

  Beyond the reach of her light, a giant shadow swallowed the floor of the cave. Another pit? When would she start going up instead of down? Meara’s heart sank.

  She moved the light and the shadow fled, leaving behind a great lake stretching as far as she could see. The cavern smelled of earth and water. It made her think of the winter cellar at the inn. Right now, she wished she was there, gnawing on one of the bitter twisted roots of wild parsnip that filled the rough woven sacks on the shelves.

  She lifted the light again and looked out at the water. Wherever her light touched, a thousand glowing dots darted to the surface. They raced over the lake leaving shimmering ripples in their wake.

  “Look, egg, it’s so pretty,” Meara marveled, crossing the rocky ground to reach the water’s edge.

  The water smelled stale and brackish, but she wanted to drop to her face and lap it up anyway. She scooped up a handful and touched it with her tongue, frowning at the taste of dirt and rock. Dare she drink it? Thirst had left her tongue as wrinkled as a prune. She let the drops pour through her fingers, shrugged off her cloak, and dropped it onto the rocky beach. The egg squeaked at the rough treatment.

  “Sorry, egg,” Meara muttered. “What shall we do, drink the water and risk poisoning, or shrivel up and blow away?”

  Drink, she decided, making a cup of her hands and gulping thirstily. She drank until her belly was full. Then she settled cross-legged onto the rocky beach and watched the play of lights under the water.

  The light dots darted closer as though attracted by her splashing. Meara leaned forward, dragging a finger through the water. A glow of light followed its curving path. More dots rippled to life, shadowing her hand, joining the chase. She tried to catch one, but it darted away.

  Intrigued, she climbed to her feet and hiked her dress above her knees, tucking it into her belt. No drop of light would outmaneuver her. She’d catch one and see what made the glow. Slowly she waded into the lake, shivering as the cold water touched her skin. Lowering her hands, she tried to scoop the light between her fingers. The dots sped past, flitting into darkness. She took a step into deeper water.

  “What are you doing?” the egg awoke from its sleep. “This is a very bad idea.”

  Meara ignored it.

  “You must stop now. I command you.”

  A flash of light swooped tantalizingly near, its glow so bright it outshone her conjured globe of light. She hesitated. This one was slower. It would be easy to trap.

  “Come away from there.”

  She ignored the egg’s warning and waded deeper, switching direction, following the path of the slowly moving light. Behind the light, grains of luminescence flared in a bright stream.

  Another light floated by, keeping pace—hovering an arm’s length from her—changing direction when she did. This one, Meara decided. It was fat and lazy—easy to catch. She splashed determinedly towards it, focused on capturing it. The light she’d chased earlier, rushed after her. It leapt from the water, splashing down and sending a wave of brackish water over her. Meara stopped. The coldness of the water stole her breath. She slashed her arm across her eyes to clear the beads of water from her lashes. Other lights raced towards her, each following the other, before sloughing off in trails of radiance. The intensity dazzled her eyes. She looked back at the egg. The shore was a long way off.

  “Come out of the water. I don’t like this place. Hear the silence? Something is wrong.”

  Meara backed away from the waterlight. It floated lazily on the ripples. Was it watching her? She shivered and keeping her eyes fixed on the smaller lights swirling beneath the surface, retreated towards the shore. The beams stalked her through the thigh-deep water. The fold of fabric she had tucked into her belt let go and her dress swirled ov
er her toes, dragging across her feet, tangling her steps. The lazy light she’d hoped to catch, floated behind her, tracking her as she had once followed it. The water gelled and thickened filled with the flickering streams of light. Meara’s steps lagged. Her legs were weak and rubbery. With shaking hands, she yanked her gown clear of the water and risked a backwards glance.

  A ball of light leapt clear of the lake and a blinding flash lit the cave. Black water surged towards her. The egg screamed. The darting lights winked out. Meara threw herself onto the beach as another waterlight flared. A wave of heat blasted her cheeks as the light imploded on the surface of the lake. The water boiled and the air reeked with the smell of Sulphur.

  Sprawled in a heap of soaking gown and gritty sand, Meara stared at the lake. Its surface was simmering like a slowly boiling pot.

  “What was that?” she whispered.

  “We must leave this place.” The egg was frightened.

  “I agree,” Meara said fervently, grabbing her cloak from the stony beach and pulling it on. Her hands shook as she tied the strings tightly at her throat. Still watching the lake, she wrapped the egg in its pouch. Once more the water was unruffled, its surface black as night—the twinkling lights snuffed out. Goosebumps crawled up her arms.

  “You’re right, egg. We need to get as far from here as we can.”

  Holding her light globe high, Meara hunted for the familiar symbol. The rock formations no longer awed her; instead she thought the hanging rock looked like sharpened teeth, and the dangling boxes the entrails of its victims.

  She found the marker and at a fast trot, headed in the direction it pointed. The steady trickle of drops from the ceiling melded with the sound of rushing water. The far-off roar overcame every other sound. It brought a thickness to her throat. Her fear of an underground river had become a reality.

  “Stop,” the egg cried.

  Meara froze.

  “What?” she asked in a frightened squeak.

  “Look.”

  Meara hoisted her light over her head. The globe surged to life blazing over the space in front of her. One more step, and she would have fallen off the path. A giant chasm spanned the path in front of her.