Chapter 9
LOOKING BACK
What, exactly, had Elowen done to me?
As the executioner honed his branch into a spear, I settled beneath a lush, dewy tree, relinquishing the weight of the pack I still couldn’t open. The journal, at least, slid from the side pocket with ease.
I might not know what I had become, I could read, decipher my father’s writing, and figure out our next move. Maybe Jasher would forgive me. But probably not.
Cluck Cluck settled close to my leg, both a surprise and a delight.
Jasher found a thin, sharp branch and returned to the pond, quickly spearing a good-sized fish. He tossed it to the shore and hunted another, ignoring me.
Frustrating Tinman. Shoving him from my mind, I opened the journal and began to read.
My precious daughter,
I pressed my hand over my aching heart, swearing I heard Ahav’s voice in my head, even though I’d never actually heard his voice.
My search for the Ember of Everlight continues.
Excellent. We were starting exactly where I’d hoped.
A rumor has spread, claiming those in pursuit of the Ember will die in monstra fire.
I’m unsure if this is true or a lie meant to dissuade us.
If the Ember will do as legend claims and right every wrong, it is the most valuable treasure in the land.
Other than you, of course. I will stop at nothing, pay anything, to find it.
Thankfully, I’ve made progress. While scouring the surviving journals written by King Morris, I uncovered crumbs. Small truths tucked between grand tales whispered through the generations, forgotten in the passage of time.
Though many of his pages are missing, and others have surrendered their ink to age, I can tell you Morris did not drive out the monstra with the Ember alone, as history tells. No, he had help from his first wife, a water maiden. Actually, the water maiden. Her name was Andrea.
So Ahav had heard about Andrea through his ancestor’s journals rather than Elowen. Why hadn’t she shared the information with him, aiding the royal family she professed to love?
Morris mentioned her only twice (that I’ve found) but the gentleness in his words betrays his rich, abiding love for her, and the anguish he experienced when she fell. Read what Morris himself had to say:
“My precious Andrea gave her life in battle, right there on our mountain, leaving me with the heartache of her loss. Now I must live without her warmth. Without her laughter. All while being tormented by the memory of her death. How she fell to save me. How the sparkle drained from her beautiful emerald eyes. The monstra crystalized and crumbled, yes, but though I placed her in the shells, she has not revived. And yet, the power of the Ember has not dulled. I feel its pulse.”
I paused before diving into Ahav’s thoughts regarding his ancestor’s words, absorbing. Morris had indeed loved Andrea. But what were these shells, and why had he expected them to revive her from death?
Morris’s words “on our mountain” caught my notice. In our time, hordes of monstra guard every mountain. Do they, too, sense the Ember and hope to keep us from it?
While I’ve searched each mount, despite the enemy’s invasion, the Ember eludes me still. I’m missing something, but I’m also drawing closer, the truth circling me like a hawk above a field, its eyes locked on a mouse.
I paused again, trying to untangle each revelation. According to Elowen, Andrea found the Ember, and she helped Morris defeat the monstra.
According to Morris himself, Andrea died in battle right before the monstra “crystallized and crumbled,” all because of the Ember, which had retained its power when she died.
Meaning, Elowen had probably told the truth. Andrea had found it and died using it.
Morris said she fell, but was she killed by monstra, or did she give her life to, say, fuel the Ember? He wasn’t clear on that point.
Perhaps Andrea had carried the Ember within herself, and that was why he’d believed he could revive her with those mysterious shells.
But where had he placed her body? Inside their mountain? The wording intrigued me as much as it had intrigued Ahav.
I opened my mouth to ask Jasher a question only to press my lips together. He sat before a small fire pit, roasting fish he’d already gutted and cleaned, glaring at me with malice…and longing.
Flutters consumed my awareness and now, there was no ignoring him.
The second he noted my scrutiny, he scowled and snapped, “What?” as if I’d been the one staring.
A full minute passed before Cluck Cluck pecked my leg, and I regained my wits. I stroked her neck in thanks. Obviously, we were best friends now. “How many mountains are in Hakeldama?” I asked.
“Six,” he replied easily enough. Another surprise. “One in every province.”
So Emerald, where I’d first landed, plus Sapphire, Ruby, Amethyst, Opal, and Diamond.
“Do you know which province had a cave-in during the time of Morris Ori’Emet?”
“I was born in the mountains, Moriah.” His dry tone suggested I should have guessed this.
“I know their history better than most. Throughout the centuries, there have been three cave-ins. The one you speak of is Mount Emerald. It’s filled with murals of coming wars, painted by Hakeldama’s first water maiden. ”
Andrea then. An artist, like my mother. Like me.
I must see those murals. “Mount Emerald is our next stop.” Perhaps the paintings would lead us to the Ember of Everlight. Or the monstra shells that once encased the body of the first water maiden. The very shells Morris expected to bring her back to life.
Thanks to Elowen’s serum, I had something no one else did: a link to Andrea.
Problem. “You’re being awfully nice to me, Jasher. Extremely helpful, even, for someone who hates me.” A suspicion curled through me, and I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth. “You’re setting me up.”
He rolled his eyes, all smooth amusement. “I’ve decided to help you find what you’re looking for—so I can steal it. A turn you should have deduced on your own.”
Yeah. Okay. That tracked. “Well, Gerald told me—he’s the trapper king you…”
“Murdered at your command?” Jasher asked, arching a brow. “After I murdered my chained brother.”
I withered while nodding. “I’m sorry, I truly am. And that’s the last time I’ll apologize for what happened in the arena.” Probably. “I did what I thought was best.”
He pursed his lips but offered no retort.
Inhale, exhale. “Gerald said all who search for the Ember die in monstra fire.” Hey.
I’d never actually discussed the object of my hunt with Jasher.
“The Ember of Everlight is supposed to right all wrongs. I believe that includes separating you and the other clones from Ian, ending the time loops, and saving the people we care about. It’s what King Morris, the first of the Ori’Emets, and Andrea used to defeat the monstra. ”
“I’m familiar with the Ember, as well,” he said, still without heat.
I rubbed mental hands together, eager to hear every detail.
Waiting…
One brow arched again. “Oh, you want me to tell you what I know about it?” He tsked, pretending he regretted his next words. “Sorry, princess, but unless I feel the information is vital to my success, I won’t be sharing.”
I knew this trick. “You’d like to bargain for the information, I suppose.”
“That is how you water maidens prefer to interact, isn’t it?” He got more comfortable, canted his head to the side in that way of his, and grinned. If diabolical anticipation ever had a face… “What are you offering?”
“What do you want?” I asked, embarrassingly breathless with excitement. Because of him. Because of that look. Because he had something I wanted. Many somethings. “Even though we both know I’m not really a water maiden.”
Cluck Cluck repositioned at my side, like we were two chicks ganging up on a rooster.
Said rooster dropped his attention to my lips—and lingered. When he next met my gaze, he radiated determination. “I want my freedom, and I’ll settle for nothing less.”
Exactly what I couldn’t afford to give. Sigh. “If you think of anything else you’d like, do let me know.” I gave my chicken more pets. “Such a pretty girl.”
Ready to dive back into the past, I returned my attention to Ahav’s journal.
The next several pages featured hand-drawn maps of Hakeldama’s mountains, pointing out locations he’d searched, with notes about monstra formations, traps, and secret entrances scribbled in the margins.
Very helpful. Then I turned the page and discovered sketches of King Morris and…
Andrea? She resembled the water maiden in my dream, with her green hue and water wings, but the artist had smudged her facial features. An accident or done on purpose?
I showed the image to Cluck Cluck. “My mom did this.” I’d recognize her artwork anywhere. Her talent always amazed me. “Good, huh?”
The chicken appeared unimpressed, but that was okay. We could work on her lack of taste another day. I traced my finger over Maybe-Andrea’s outline, trying to will away the blur. Alas.
I perused King Morris, on the page beside hers. Though unending sorrow and endless anguish lurked in his irises, he’d been a handsome man, definitely related to Ahav. He wore golden armor, just like the mountain man in my dream.
More proof that I’d seen the past. I squeezed my eyes shut and attempted to revive the images, hoping to discover details I’d missed. But even the details began to blur.
“What’s happening?” I muttered, dismayed. “Why are they dulling?” I mean, I hadn’t forgotten what I’d seen. But the smaller minutiae now escaped me.
“In a sea of specifics, specifics get lost,” Jasher muttered back. “Perhaps you should write everything down.”
Excellent idea. I dug in the pack’s side pocket for the pen, then turned to the end of the journal, where I noted everything I’d seen in the dream. I jotted down every detail I remembered, and yet, something niggled at me. My brain was too full to puzzle through it all.
Jasher was right. Specifics had gotten lost in a sea of specifics.
After everything that had happened, I required a mental reset.
The next thing I knew, I was flipping to another blank page.
Sketching had always been my happy place.
My pen danced over the paper, Elowen’s image forming.
I didn’t know why I’d chosen her. Didn’t know why I depicted two different expressions, either.
One side of her face was soft and adoring, while the other beamed cold fury.
I wrote a note in the margin: Friend or foe?
Next image. My hand moved of its own accord, adding lines and shades until the shadow woman and her partner peered up at me.
The note simply read: Who?
Next. Once again, I gave my hand free rein. My pace slowed the second I noticed who I was drawing. Heart drumming, I finished. The hard lines. The sharp edges. The burning sensuality beneath it all.
I glided my fingertip over Jasher in this half-shifted form.
“You cannot defeat Ian, Moriah, even with the Ember. You know this, yes?”
His husky voice ended my mental reboot before it reached completion. “I can. I will.” I must. “Quit being such a Tinny Tinman.”
He’d come down from his high perch and now occupied the shade of the twisted oak across from me, with his wings folded tight to his ribs and one leg stretched before him.
“Tinny Tinman?” He snorted, so like my Jasher I ached. “I sense my brethren. Legions gather. More every day. They wait only for the order.”
A spike of foreboding slid down my spine as images flashed in my head: of teeth and claws scrabbling under the earth, of a darkness thick enough to smother a crown.
Page edges cut my palm, so sharp I loosened my grip on the journal.
Cluck Cluck must have sensed my tension, because she came to her feet, pecking at the ground again.
“You feel your brethren, but I feel the Ember of Everlight.” I did? Maybe, maybe not. But the fastest route to Mount Emerald? Flight.
My gaze zipped to Jasher’s wings.
Nope. No trust. I couldn’t risk it. And how would Cluck Cluck react? Because yes, she was coming with us. I was practically her mother now. But even if I ordered Jasher not to dump us from his back while we were midair, he might find a loophole.
We’d have to walk. Unless I could reach the true heart of him.
“Mmm. This look in your eyes,” he purred. “I recognize it. You have a plan to win me to your side.”
I blinked. “My, my, my. Isn’t this interesting?” He’d just assured my victory. Now I was the one to grin. “I don’t need a plan. You’re remembering more about me all on your own. Softening.” No mere stranger would recognize my intentions simply by the glint in my eyes.
He gave a dismissive huff. “Don’t crown yourself the winner just yet. Have I recalled the little beauty who delighted me at every turn during our first quest? Yes. But not all the memories are good.” He lifted one shoulder, a shrug born of accusation rather than surrender.
“You mean the times I supposedly killed you,” I said.
“You’ve killed my brothers. They are me, and I am they. We are him.”
“No.” I shook my head. “No. You are you.”
He paid me no heed. “Elowen has killed me, too. Now you both work to slaughter my kind. How could I ever allow myself to care about you?”