A Trail of Embers

by C A Kinnee

  Anger boiled through her. Rahdon again. Nothing could kill the maggot. He’d survived the explosion on the plains of the ancient city only to crawl out from under the cloak of the Mage once more. If she had a throwing knife, she would wedge it in his hide.

  “But you wanted to get rid of Metreo.” The egg was confused.

  “True, but that was my choice. Metreo was trying to help us. It’s not his fault we didn’t need it.”

  “I thought he helped us.”

  “Bah, egg. I had figured out what to do. Be quiet and let me think. Metreo doesn’t deserve to be murdered by the Mage and his scum. We have to save him.”

  She looked regretfully at the incline leading to the dragon’s nest. The last part of their journey would have to wait. She uncovered the egg and searched for a hollow in the brush. She would hide him until she could return him to the nest.

  “What are you doing?” squeaked the egg. “We are almost there.”

  “I can’t sit back while they take him. I have to help.”

  The egg appeared to consider her words. He said, “My call will bring my mother. She will not know of our link until I reach her. Should I call?”

  Meara didn’t answer. She peered through the break in the branches, watching the milling men. The rustling in the brush made it clear that every creature on the forest floor was running from the swarm. Something slid over her hand. She bit down on her lip and concentrated on the group around Metreo. They had finished delivering a flurry of kicks and blows and were struggling to pick him up. It took six of the men to carry him. Grunting and cursing, they dragged him towards the trees. His head bounced limply until Rahdon muttered that the Mage wanted him alive. A seventh man stepped forward to cradle his head.

  The crashing in the brush quieted. Stillness seeped back over the forest. Meara waited silently until the last voice faded.

  “If you call the dragon, things will only get worse,” she said finally. Until now, Shakala had been a nebulous threat at the back of her mind. Now that they were so near, she realized neither she, nor the egg, knew if the dragon would recognize their bond.

  “I think she will.” The egg’s voice didn’t carry a great deal of force.

  “An angry dragon in a forest littered with people will have a field day. No one will be safe, not Kieran, not Metreo, not us. Calling your mother would be a mistake,” Meara answered grimly.

  “Then what do you suggest?” The egg’s impatience was barely restrained beneath its shell.

  “I don’t know. I think first we rescue Metreo, and then we find the nest.”

  “How?”

  Meara’s hand stole to the amulet. “Invisibility?”

  “Perhaps,” the egg said.

  Was that their only option? To rescue Metreo, they must place their trust in the tricks of a bouncing light and invisibility? Kieran had pulled lightning from the sky, could she do the same? It was a scary thought. Kieran said magic didn’t always work for the untrained. No, she decided, she would wait and see what she faced before using any tricks.

  “I guess we have decided.” The egg sounded wistful, so near the end of the journey, but willing to make the rescue attempt. “But we go together. You will not leave me here alone.”

  “We go then,” Meara said before her courage failed. “We’ll follow behind and trust the smoke will hide us. If it doesn’t, we will use the amulet to disappear.”

  The egg sighed. For once, she wished he made more protest.

  Chapter 40

  Danger—be wary.

  Wait—watch!

  In the darkness

  pay heed.

  Translated from the Chronicles of the Egg

  “Wait,” the egg called.

  “What?” Meara stiffened and stopped trying to squirm through the thick cover of tangleweed bush. “What?” she repeated, afraid the egg heard something she hadn’t. A thin branch bounced back, raking its thorns down her arm. She rubbed at the itchy scratches.

  “Are you sure we should do this?”

  “You aren’t?” she answered irritably. She’d decided it safest to work through the tangleweed rather than step out onto the trail. Finally, she had reached the edge of the weed. She could stand tall once again. Her legs burned and prickled as blood flow returned to her cramped muscles. Stretching, she concentrated on working the feeling back into them as she waited for the egg to explain.

  “I’m just saying,” the egg continued. “We should have a better plan.”

  Meara rubbed her hands over the bumpy rash left by the thorns. She succeeded in driving a spikey barb into the meaty part of her thumb. Muttering, she plucked it free and sucked at the tiny wound.

  “And what do you think we should do?” she said, striving for patience.

  “We should go carefully,” the egg declared.

  Meara rolled her eyes. “Fine. When you come up with another plan, let me know,” she answered.

  The egg was right. Their plan—if you could even call it a plan—was riddled with holes. She looked out at the tall trees. The forest was returning to peace. For once, she was glad to hear the sounds of tiny creatures moving in the brush. While the battle raged, the beasties had gone to roost, hiding as hard as she was. If the forest animals were going about their business, it meant the swarm was gone.

  The mist was growing—the cold air feeding off the warm ground created by the dragon’s fire. It mingled with the hanging smoke and formed a billowing white blanket, that drooped over the trail and enveloped the broken branches like ghosts feeding at a fresh grave. All around her was evidence of the swarm’s passing. She didn’t need the wood lore Kieran had stuffed her head with to follow the trail they left. She smiled remembering his litany—shelter in the shadows, use their refuge, always keep moving.

  “Fine, shadows mean shelter,” the egg said sourly. “Kieran also said things hide in those same shadows. Take care nothing plucks us from their depths.”

  Meara sighed and nodded, running her eyes over the trees again. The egg, as usual, was right, but the shadows were abundant. They crept from spindly trunks and warped branches and mixed with the creeping fog. She would have no problem hiding in them.

  Slowly and carefully, she crawled over the battered land until she reached the edge of a flat pommel of land.

  “This is the gifting ground,” the egg said. “It is where the people of the forest leave food for my mother.”

  Meara looked out over the open land and shivered.

  “The field offers good grazing. It’s easy for us to pick up dinner.”

  Meara gagged.

  “You see that as a problem?” the egg demanded.

  Meara changed the subject.

  “What is on the other side of that field?” she asked.

  “The plateau breaks apart and falls to the sea. There on the cliffs, my mother makes her nest.”

  “Look at the trees,” Meara whispered.

  “I told you. My mother is angry,” the egg said airily. He wasn’t worried about Shakala’s mood.

  Meara used the last of the tree shadows to reach the edge of the open field. She smelled the sea and tasted the salt it carried. It was infinitely better than char and barnyard.

  The swarm had spread their camp across the gifting ground. Their campfires smoldered in the misty rain belching clouds of acrid smoke. Meara’s eyes watered. She could smell the aroma of roasting meat, and her stomach growled. Apparently, the Mage’s men had helped themselves to the dragon’s cattle. Fools. Shakala flew. Did they think the Mage’s magic would keep them safe?

  Meara pulled her cloak higher around her neck. The way the wind cut through the thin fabric, she may as well have been naked. Was she a fool putting herself between an angry dragon and the Mage? Yes, but she had to try and save Metreo.

  She dropped to her heels and studied the campfire closest to her. The flickering of dim light made it impossible to identify anyone, much less a black and white-faced giant. She was risking herself and the egg on a fool’s errand
. Metreo might already be dead from the beating or executed at the hands of the Mage.

  She caught her bottom lip in her teeth and stared at the distant points of light. No, he was out there somewhere. She couldn’t give up without looking. She crawled to the shadow of another tree, thankful for the dullness of her tattered cloak. She wouldn’t use the trick of invisibility unless she had to.

  Tucked under the hanging branches, she eyed the nearest of the smoking fires. This one had no cook pots hanging over the flames. Two men were next to it—one scowling at the flames, the other sleeping. Raucous snores issued from the sleeper’s mouth.

  “Borlon, you guard well, but what’s the need. Join us!” At a distant fire, a man stood and shouted to the man staring at the flames.

  “No. I do what I am ordered,” Borlon answered, cupping his hands over his mouth and yelling back.

  “Leave Borlon alone,” another voice called. “He obeys the mighty words of Rahdon the Beautiful.”

  A chorus of laugher brought the scowling man to his feet. He turned to check his sleeping companion, and bellowing insults, went to join his friends.

  Meara waited, watching the sleeping man. Maybe there were weapons here, something more substantial than magic. The snores of the sleeping man continued unhindered. He was deep in his dreams. More confident, Meara crouched and ran towards the fire.

  Lightning flashed, illuminating the clearing, freezing the trees and milling men onto a stark backdrop. Meara blinked. The searing flash left a blaze of white in front of her eyes. A crash of thunder followed. The sound rang in her ears. Blind and deaf, she staggered forward and caught her toe on a discarded length of rope. It tangled around her foot and tripped her up. Face first, she fell against the sleeping man. Frozen in place, she waited for him wake up and sound the alarm.

  He didn’t stir.

  “It’s Metreo,” the egg chirped. “Check and see. I am right though.”

  Meara leaned closer, trying to see the man’s face in the dim light.

  “How can you be sure?” she asked. Against her will, she reached out and touched his face, feeling the warmth of skin over the curve of a broad brow. She stopped. Her hands hung over the face below her. Forcing herself to stay calm, she reached down again, tracing the curve of his cheek, finding thick eyebrows lined with cool metal. She slid her fingers over a broad nose and smooth hairless scalp. The egg was right, they had found Metreo. She reached inside the neck of his cloak searching for a pulse. It thudded under her fingertips. She let her breath out in a quiet sigh.

  He was alive. She rocked back on her heels. Alive, but unconscious. She checked his pulse again. It thumped steadily in a slow regular throb. If he was badly injured would it do that?

  She bent over him intending to search for further signs of injury. Her amulet swung in front of her face. Impatiently, she grabbed it.

  “I wish you would wake up, Metreo. I could use your help,” she muttered, tucking the amulet back into the neck of her gown. “I can’t roll you over because you’re too big. How am I supposed to save you?” She dropped her hands onto his chest.

  “Bah, this is useless.” Her feelings swayed from self-pity to anger at the giant for putting them in this situation. It wasn’t his fault, but she needed someone to blame for their dilemma. Metreo wasn’t going anywhere. He snorted loudly and the steady snoring stopped.

  “Is he waking up?” the egg demanded.

  “I don’t know.” Meara leaned forward, her wet hair dangling, dripping water over the black and white face.

  “I would thank you to be getting that mop out of my eyes.” The words were shaky, but they held Metreo’s familiar mocking rasp.

  He moved and Meara lost her balance. She fell forward, mashing her nose against his chest. Righting herself, she scowled and helped him sit up. Her dealings with the giant were never easy on her self-esteem. Impatiently, she tossed her hair back from her eyes.

  “Do you still have your knife, girl?”

  Meara fumbled for the knife Kieran had given her after the Miandrogas had taken her own. She held it up.

  Metreo gestured towards his arms. They were roped behind his back. He strained against the ties as Meara scooted forward and felt for the knots at his wrists.

  “I wish I could see,” she muttered.

  “Don’t be worrying about that, girl. Just slit the ropes, not my wrists.”

  Meara fumbled along the line of braided rope, tracing the outline of cord. There. Carefully, she slid the tip of her knife under the rope and sawed it back and forth. She felt Metreo straining to break free as she worked. The rope snapped. Metreo flexed his arms and moved his fingers. His hand went to the back of his head, probing it.

  “What did you do to me, girl?”

  “Nothing. It was the Mage’s men.”

  “No.” He irritably shook his head. “My head. The throbbing is gone.” He eyed her suspiciously.

  Meara’s eyes widened. “I did nothing. I found you here. You woke up.”

  He didn’t answer. He levered himself to his feet and stood swaying.

  “Let’s remove ourselves from the Mage’s company. I think he plans a party for my reception.” His teeth gleamed faintly in the dark. Although he tried to hide it, he looked shaken. He shook his massive head and snorted out a sharp breath.

  “Give me a minute to get my bearings. I feel as though someone hit me with the butt end of an axe.”

  Metreo didn’t look well. The pale part of his face shone green beneath the white. Uneasy, Meara scanned the surrounding area. It had been very convenient to find Metreo so easily.

  “Too convenient,” the egg muttered. “It’s like he was staked out for the dragon—bait in a trap.”

  Meara nodded—one guard. Even unconscious, Metreo warranted a greater guard.

  “We should go,” she said, tugging at Metreo’s arm.

  “Hurry!” The egg screamed.

  Metreo staggered forward. His mouth moved. “Run!”

  Light arced over the plain and turned the world white.

  Chapter 41

  Danger—be wary.

  Wait—watch!

  In the darkness

  pay heed.

  Translated from the Chronicles of the Egg

  Meara spun to face the trees. A knot of men had stepped from the forest, appearing in the open as if conjured from the smoky air.

  “Magic!” gasped Meara.

  “Go, girl!” Metreo shouted. “Run!”

  The egg screamed in terror. Meara sent Metreo a look beseeching him to forgive her and fled. She was fast, and light on her feet. A flare of hope passed through her. She could outrun the horde.

  Mocking laughter echoed over the open plain. The air around her thickened, slowing her steps, barring her forward motion. A flash of light burned her eyes and lit the plain with emerald light. It bathed the trees, burning their skeletal trunks into the fading brilliance of the flash.

  The Mage stepped forward, away from his followers. He smiled and moved towards her.

  “So, girl, again, we meet. I knew you would not walk away from the big man.” The Mage’s words were laced with savage triumph.

  Meara’s body hung suspended, trussed up by invisible bonds of air. Only her eyes moved. She cast a desperate glance towards Metreo, hoping somehow, he would manage to break free.

  Metreo’s fight was done. He stood still and broken, head hanging, watching the Mage like the rest of the horde. As if sensing her gaze, his head moved fractionally. His eyes met hers in a fleeting glance. His right eyelid dipped in a tiny wink. Meara held her breath and waited.

  Metreo moved with the speed of a plunging hawk. He was on the two men holding him before the realized their prisoner was no longer standing still. Wrapping a big hand around the other men’s necks, Metreo slammed their head together. The men dropped to the ground and lay still. In a rush of forward movement, Metreo rolled, yanked a long sword from the scabbard of his ex-guard and rose to his feet advancing on the Mage.

 
; The Mage laughed.

  “Fool,” he said. “You think to fight me with metal weapons?” He flicked his fingers and a pulsing ball of orange fire flamed in his hand. He turned away.

  Metreo attacked. Roaring with rage, he lifted the sword above his head and swung the blade hard.

  The Mage flicked his fingers towards him. The fire left his hand arcing back at Metreo. It struck his broad chest with a solid thud. Metreo’s expression changed from rage, to shock, to confusion before becoming vacant. He tumbled forward.

  For a brief second, the bonds holding Meara relaxed. She screamed and fumbled at the neck of her cloak, trying to reach her amulet.

  “Not so fast, girl!”

  The Mage’s voice trickled over her. It left a blanket of muddled lethargy behind, jumbling her thoughts, stealing her will. Why did she have to move? Where was she trying to go? The effort of thinking proved too much. Her hand stopped and hung suspended inches from the amulet.

  The Mage continued his walk towards her, the line of men following at his heels. His amber eyes burned with a steady complacency. Carelessly, he flicked his fingers. Rahdon stumbled from behind him and hurried to Meara’s side. Gingerly, he lifted the amulet from around her neck and passed the bag to the Mage, wincing as if the touch of the amulet burned.

  “I am amazed you believed my little deception. How very like your Mother you are? She too would risk herself for a friend.” The Mage’s voice was sweet and kind, almost a purr. “No,” he said silkily, “You cannot speak, or move for that matter.”

  The sight of her weak struggles to free herself amused him. He stepped back and studied her face. Meara would have shivered, but held in the Mage’s web, she couldn’t move her smallest finger.

  “Please,” the egg whispered, “Fight him. You must . . .” The egg’s voice faded from her head.

  Meara’s eyes dropped to Metreo and a trickle of rage pushed against her fear. For a moment, the terror retreated, leaving her cold and stony inside. The Mage had hunted them for so long and so hard. Now he would take the egg and open the world to the retribution of the dragon.