Requiem of Silence Page 14

  When Kyara came back to herself, Ella had marveled at the magic of it, but didn’t appear surprised. Apparently, she knew a thing or two about blood magic. The group piled into an army vehicle driven by the young soldier who’d first greeted them. Kyara directed them north and as far east as they could go, until the dirt road petered out in the foothills of the mountain range. They were dropped off in an area covered in sparse, tough shrubbery. The landscape was not so different from the foothills in Lagrimar.

  Several hours of hiking brought them to the cave entrance from her vision, an opening in the unrelenting stone that had been cut into a perfect rectangle. What little of the interior that was visible was smooth and sparkled in the day’s dying light. Beyond was an impenetrable blackness.

  The knapsacks they’d picked up from the base included battery-powered electric flashlights, which entranced both Kyara and Ulani. They clicked them off and on again, marveling at the convenience and easy operation. Darvyn finally plucked hers out of her hands, shaking his head and smiling.

  They entered the mountain, their steps echoing on the smooth, but uneven, cave floor. When she’d last been here, she’d heard the Cavefolk calling her—low whispers inside her head had led her to them. This time, as she adjusted to the atmosphere and smell of the tunnels they walked through, the whispers were silent. But anticipation hung in the air. Murmur and the others knew she was coming, she could practically feel them waiting for her.

  Long hours later, Kyara’s legs were sore and her emotions on edge. Ella seemed to be having the hardest time with all the walking, but to her credit she didn’t complain. Kyara wished that someone could heal the woman’s blisters, visible during breaks when she’d take her shoes off to rub her feet. Ulani tutted and fretted over her mother in the most adorable way, but could do nothing to help.

  The map’s vision was a constant in Kyara’s mind, guiding them through the maze of tunnels. Sometimes they would hear the trickle of running water, sometime the flutter and patter of some kind of animal. But on and on they walked into the heart of the mountain.

  Finally, the darkness surrounding them steadily lightened until it was bright enough that they turned off the flashlights. Before them a doorway opened onto an upper ledge that looked out onto the city of the Cavefolk. The enormous cave had to be the size of the glass castle of Sayya. Walkways of stone crisscrossed the open space, with staircases rising and falling at intervals along the way.

  She stepped through and up to the ledge, taking in the vast, wondrous space again. How had it been constructed? How many people used to occupy this place, and what was life like when it was a full and bustling city?

  Darvyn, who had been bringing up the rear of the party, made a sound of alarm. Kyara spun around to find him still in the entryway, having not crossed the stone threshold onto the ledge the rest of them stood upon. When he tried to move forward, an invisible barrier held him back—one much like the Mantle that had once separated the two countries. He could not physically move past it. Kyara went back to him, easily crossing the space that restricted him. But even when she held his hand, though she could pass easily, he could not.

  “This is some kind of spell,” she said. “I wonder if there’s another way into the city?” The map had only showed her one path, but obviously there must be more than one way to enter. There were pathways all over the place. But would any of them allow Darvyn through?

  A melodious voice behind them broke in. “Who are you?”

  Kyara spun to find Mooriah standing there, tilting her head. Rage mushroomed within at the sight of her. “This is Darvyn, you know him!” Kyara shouted. “And how dare you! How dare you take that child and force us out here?”

  A visibly agitated Ella was talking rapidly in Elsiran, doubtless asking where her daughter was, but the ancient Lagrimari woman ignored both her and Kyara. “You are Lagrimari?” Mooriah asked Darvyn. “Both your parents?”

  Darvyn jerked in surprise. “I never knew my father.”

  “Hmm.” Mooriah’s gaze never left him. She waved a hand at Ella. “Tell the woman her daughter is fine. If she would just be quiet for a moment, I will take you to her.”

  Darvyn narrowed his eyes and translated. Ella fell silent, eyes burning holes into Mooriah.

  Kyara gritted her teeth. “Darvyn’s mother said his father was a man made of light,” she said. “Everyone always thought she was mad.” Kyara had known his mother when she was a child, and had loved her the way she’d never had the opportunity to love her own.

  Mooriah shook her head. “No, she spoke true. His father must be why he cannot pass. His kind are not allowed in the city.”

  Darvyn straightened. “You know who my father is?”

  “No. But I know what he must have been.”

  “A man made of light?” he asked slowly.

  “Yes.”

  Kyara inhaled sharply. “Like Fenix?”

  For the first time, Mooriah seemed discomposed. A wash of pain coated her features at the mention of the strange man they’d met in Yaly. The one who had been imprisoned like Kyara had been, only he’d been there for hundreds of years. He’d been an Earthsinger, but not quite human, with glowing flesh brighter than the sun.

  Fenix had disappeared into a portal torn between worlds to a place unknown, but had promised he would return.

  “My father was like Fenix,” Darvyn repeated, testing the words on his lips. “And why can’t people like him—us—enter the city?”

  Mooriah’s lips twisted. “Because Fenix was a fool.” Her tone was wry, but held great affection. “He made mistakes that resulted in his being banned, not only him but all of his kind. Which, apparently, extends to you. I did not realize.”

  Kyara looked back and forth between them. “Can Murmur lift the spell that bans him?”

  “Perhaps, though he may not have the power to any longer. It’s an old spell, and there are so few of them left.”

  “Well, we can’t just leave him out here.” Her voice grew louder. The reality of what they were here to do was weighing on her; without Darvyn’s calming presence, she feared she was finally going to fall apart.

  “There is nothing for it.” Kyara wanted to slap the calm from Mooriah’s round cheeks.

  Ella was brimming with tension. She wasn’t wearing the translation device and as such was unable to follow the conversation. Ulani looked on with wide eyes, watching the argument unfold.

  “I’ve seen the men made of light, too,” the little girl whispered. “Sometimes.”

  Mooriah appeared startled and crouched down to her level. Ella gripped Ulani’s shoulders, holding her tight against her legs.

  “And what did these men do?” Mooriah asked, intently focused on Ulani.

  She shook her head. “Watched.”

  “Hmm.”

  “You took Tana,” Ulani accused, crossing her arms and scowling.

  Mooriah rose, lifting her chin. “With good reason. And there is little time to waste. If you do not want to wait here,” she directed to Darvyn, “there is a campsite on a ridge aboveground not far from here. It’s where…” She trailed off then cleared her throat. “You can stay there.” The melancholy in her voice reminded Kyara of their first meetings, when she’d known Mooriah only as the Sad Woman because of the despair that hung around her.

  Darvyn appeared resigned, and Kyara’s anger muted. “I’ll come to meet you tonight,” she said around the lump in her throat.

  He smiled, then kissed her. “And I’ll be waiting.”

  Mooriah gave him directions to go through a different tunnel from the one they’d used before. He took a flashlight and stared back at her.

  Conscious of both Ella’s and Mooriah’s urgency, Kyara traded a long look with him before taking a deep breath and stepping back through the doorway to the cave city.

  * * *

  Mooriah unerringly led the way down to where the Cavefolk were gathered. They carefully navigated the towering staircases cut into the rock and the angle
d pathways leading to the bottom level of the vast underground city.

  The temperature dropped steadily as they descended. “Why do they stay on the ground where it’s so much colder?” Kyara asked, donning the brown army jacket that she’d found packed in her knapsack.

  “The gardens are on the lowest levels, where the soil is oldest and most fertile,” Mooriah answered.

  “How do plants grow with no light?” Ulani asked.

  “There is light, not from the sun, but from the Mother herself. She provides.” Mooriah motioned all around them to where the cave softly glowed from bright rocks embedded in the walls. “The firerocks—their brightness is enhanced with the blood and they illuminate our world.”

  At the word “blood,” Ella shot an alarmed glance at Kyara. The woman had donned her translator amalgam and glared viciously at Mooriah whenever her gaze settled in that direction. “I have much I wish to say to you,” she’d told the woman, “but I don’t want to drain the translator with my rage. Just take me to my daughter.”

  Mooriah had appeared, if not chastened, then at least contrite. “Much depends on the girl,” she’d said. Not an apology, Kyara noted.

  “What happened to the rest of the Cavefolk? Why is this place abandoned?” Ella’s tinny voice rang out now.

  “Many left, favoring the Outside, in the years after the Founders came and made the land more hospitable and life-giving. Over time, the population dwindled as fewer wanted to maintain the old ways.”

  Mooriah stopped walking; Kyara realized they had reached the entrance to the Cavefolk meeting place. Just like the last time she was here, she sensed five beings, their Nether as abundant and fresh as those newly dead. Bright as stars, they shone in the field of black with the strange light of death energy. But this time, a sixth light shined in her other sight. The Cavefolk were hundreds of years old, which is why they had amassed so much Nether, but this last light was from a Nethersinger—Tana.

  Mooriah paused at the entrance to the cave. “Their appearance is shocking, but they will not harm you.” Kyara sincerely hoped the woman spoke true. She didn’t believe that Murmur would hurt the children, but he could try to use Ella for some purpose the way he’d used Darvyn. She would have to make sure that didn’t happen.

  Once duly warned, they all stepped through the entryway. The five Cavefolk sat around a fire. Their bodies were colorless, with sagging translucent skin showing the veins and muscle beneath. Kyara had known what to expect and still had a hard time facing them.

  During the short journey, Mooriah had told them the five remaining Cavefolk were Murmur’s family group—his wives and husbands, a vestige of a former age when many of the Folk were polyamorous. They spent most of their time in communion and meditation with the Mother. They ate only every few weeks and slowed the processes of their body with blood magic. That was how they’d managed to survive for so long.

  Tana sat on a low rock just behind the oldest, most colorless man. “Mama!” She launched herself up and ran around the circle to greet her mother. Ella welcomed her child with open arms.

  “I’m so sorry, Mama. I know you were worried when I left, I know I shouldn’t have gone without telling you, but look, I’ve already begun to learn.” She spoke at a rapid clip and tugged Ella’s hand closer to the circle. “Watch.” Without letting go of her mother, she pulled a patch of moss out of the pocket of her dress.

  “Tana, no!” Mooriah warned, but the dark green fuzzy texture of the moss was already turning black in the girl’s palm. Ella gave a pained cry and wrenched away to hold her stomach with both arms.

  “Mama?” Tana looked down as her mother collapsed onto the ground.

  “You must never touch someone while using your power child.” Mooriah’s voice was censorious but soft.

  Ulani dropped to Ella’s side and clutched her arm. Tears welled in the girl’s eyes. “I can’t use my Song.” Her voice was hushed with terror. “I can’t heal her.”

  Kyara’s jaw tightened. She looked to the Cavefolk, whose eerie translucent eyelids revealed the pale orbs beneath. She sank into her other sight and witnessed the Nether growing within Ella’s body. It started at her hand, where it had been joined with Tana’s and shot straight to her heart.

  Kyara pulled the Nether from the woman rapidly, drawing it out, but without Earthsong to heal her, there was little more a Nethersinger could do. The Void took the place of the Nethersong, but Void was neither life nor death, it was simply the space between. Opening her eyes to the cave again, she spoke to Mooriah. “We need to get her out of here. Outside the mountain so Darvyn or Ulani can help her.”

  But Mooriah simply knelt, calm as the raindrops, and plucked something from her pocket. It was a sliver of white, long as her forefinger with a pointed, sharp edge. She pricked her palm and used the blood to draw a mark on Ella’s hand. The squiggly line was a symbol, Kyara didn’t know of what, but once the blood touched her skin, Ella’s moans quieted.

  Mooriah whispered a string of words too low to hear, and Ella’s body softened. Kyara’s other sight revealed the static of the Void steadily receding and, surprisingly, the darkness of Earthsong overtaking Ella’s body.

  Mooriah casually wiped the blood off the little sliver with her skirt, then replaced it in her pocket. Everyone monitored Ella until the woman fluttered her lids before opening her eyes. She took several deep breaths before sitting up. “What happened?”

  Tana was frozen in place, having not moved during the entire ordeal. Ulani wrapped her mother in a tight hug and thrust her face into her neck. Ella patted the girl’s head. “I’m all right, uli. It’s okay.”

  Tana crossed her arms protectively in front of her and backed away toward the far wall, looking at her mother and sister with dread.

  Kyara turned to the Cavefolk, gaze honed in on their leader, Murmur. “You taught her this trick, but not its consequences?”

  “I’m all right, Tana,” Ella repeated, reassuringly. She beckoned the girl toward her, but Tana remained motionless. Finally, Ella dropped her arms, her expression an excruciating mix of pain and comprehension.

  “Is this how the training works?” Kyara spat out. “Done halfway without any precautions?”

  “Tana has been with us less than a day. She is eager to learn.” Murmur’s voice was surprisingly strong given his advanced age and appearance. The other Cavefolk never moved or said a word.

  “This was why I didn’t want to come. Your methods are suspect at best, dangerous at worst.” She turned to Tana. “Do you know who I am?”

  Tana tore her gaze away from her mother and looked at Kyara fully for the first time. “The Poison Flame?”

  “Yes. I brought your mother and sister here and we’re going to take you home again.” She shot a glare at Mooriah.

  “I can’t go home,” the girl whispered, shaking her head. “Look what I did. What I will do again. It’s why I came in the first place. I felt … Something is happening to me and I can’t control it.”

  Kyara inhaled deeply. She didn’t trust the Cavefolk or Mooriah, but something needed to be done about Tana and her Song. She wished she was able to train the girl effectively.

  “I need to learn,” Tana said, echoing her thoughts. “I want to be like you.” Kyara startled.

  “Why would you want to be like her?” Murmur asked gently.

  “Because she is strong and fierce. She’s afraid of nothing. She stands up to those who do harm and she saves others. She’s a hero.”

  Kyara’s jaw dropped; her throat began to thicken. Hearing those words from Tana’s lips cracked her heart open. She couldn’t bear to let the girl continue thinking her someone she wasn’t.

  She squatted down to face her. “I’m not any of those things, uli. I’m afraid all the time, and this power.…” She shook her head. “It is terrible. I’m sorry that you must share its burden.”

  “This power is a gift,” Mooriah declared, stepping up beside her. “That is why you are both here. You are to learn control
over it and mastery of it so that you may go out and save your people. This is what you have been called to do. It is your purpose, one chosen by the Breath Father for you.”

  Kyara stood, patience thinning. “I don’t know anything about the Breath Father, but if he gave us this power of death, then what kind of deity is he?”

  “A mighty one,” Mooriah said gravely.

  Kyara crossed her arms, defiant. “Fine. She can stay and be trained. And I will stay and protect her.”

  “So you want to continue to be selfish and holed up by yourself, squandering your gift.” Mooriah’s voice brought an additional chill to the air. “You are a force, and she will be, too. Both of you will be needed if you plan to have a land left to live in.” The harshness of her tone made goose bumps spring up along Kyara’s skin.

  “I have kept the watch from the World After for many, many years. I could not see much of the Living World, but what I did would leave you cold. Nethersingers born and slaughtered over and over again. Few managed to survive their births.” She glanced over at Tana. “Though, a handful did. Those who were bound as children by other hands. They would live sometimes. But when the bindings wore out and there was no one around to restore them, they would go the way of the rest. Slaughterers to be slaughtered.” She spread her hands apart.

  “Her power is bound?” Kyara asked.

  “It was bound. Now it is leaking out. When yours began to emerge, you were lucky that Ydaris and the True Father kept you alive and trained you.”

  “Lucky?” Kyara spat out the word. “It was not luck for those I was forced to kill.”

  Mooriah waved away that little detail. “You learned some skill, but true mastery eludes you. That must change.”

  “I don’t want to know any more. I don’t want any more death. Train Tana, she is eager to learn.”

  Murmur slowly rose to his feet, drawing everyone’s attention. “Both of you will be trained or neither will.”

  Kyara’s head snapped back. “What about the prophecy?”

  “I would ask you the same thing. Will you really allow the child to fight alone?” He shook his head. “Both or neither.”