Chapter 14

They rode through the morning with only the jingle and thump song of the wagon between them. And as the sun moved toward its zenith, Kestrel reached beneath the buckboard and pulled out a flask. After taking a long drink, she passed it to Marley.

He might have wished it was ale, but his parched throat felt soothed. He nodded his thanks, handing it back. “I think I promised you some answers.”

“When will Jayf be back?” She finally asked.

The note of defeat in her voice worried Marley. If they were to survive the events the dream dancer spoke of, she needed to find her will. He had to continue south. Ymarii’s pull on him was strong enough to leave him little choice. “Unless there is danger, we won’t see him until we enter the vale.” Marley flicked the reins, taking advantage of one of the smoother patches of road.

Into the silence that followed, Kestrel said, “They weren’t taking you to Norfall.” She reached beneath the seat once more, pulling out a basket filled with food for traveling. And handed him a piece of fruit jerky and an oatcake before continuing, “Mason said, they were taking you to someone called Zamphere.”

“Pfft! Zamphere, you say. That explains a lot, I suppose. Did he say anything else?” Marley tightened his grip on the reins and slowed his breathing. He didn’t need Kestrel worrying about Zamphere too, as long as he was just another name in the night. As it was, taking Kestrel with him seemed the best option. With Glyf joining them in Wind Cove, he knew they would travel by the Dragon Paths and that held pitfalls for the girl he hoped to avoid.

Kestrel shook her head, picking a winter apple out for herself, and they both got quiet as they finished eating and settled into their own thoughts. But soon Marley’s thoughts curved back to the night before and the ward the clan’s girl slipped through. He glanced over at the girl.

“How did you get through my ward… in the woods?”

Kestrel shifted on the seat. She looked unsure and Marley let her take the time to find her words.

“I… I guess I stared at the ward’s essence until I could see the pattern. And then I found the weakest point and imagined myself pushing on it until it was big enough for me to slip through. At least that is what I think I did.”

“Ah,” he said softly. Both impressed and concerned, he considered her words and hoped they found time and opportunity for her to safely explore her blossoming talents.

He steered the horses across a small clearing and onto a narrow overgrown trail. Ironwood and Sugarfern grew tall and tight along the trail, keeping out all but a dappling of sun and a mist of light, even with the sun at its highest. The horses, skittish with the closeness of the foliage, kept Marley’s hand tight upon the reigns.

The area radiated an overwhelming sense of power. Marley glanced over at Kestrel to see how she handled it. He watched her expression go from apprehension to peaceful acceptance in a matter of hoofbeats.

“I am glad the power here is not too much for you. I fear I forgot just how potent it is.”

Kestrel blinked as she struggled to focus on what he said. “I just let it find its place in my spirit. Then it tells me its story. The energy here is ancient, but also new. It is like… like leftover or forgotten dreams, the regrets, and the unfulfilled promises of those spirits released here. This is a fitting place… you have acted honorably toward my mother and me.” Kestrel’s voice grew soft and she finished with tears in her eyes. “Thank you.”

As she spoke, the horses and wagon emerged from the tunnel of trees into a meadow filled with wildflowers, stretching to a stream fed by a tiered waterfall. In the distance, they saw Jayf kneel on the stream bank and fill his canteen with the clear water.

Marley pulled the horses around and stopped nearby. He scanned the vale as he hopped down from the wagon. It was as he remembered. Hemmed in by a dense forest, it butted up against steep cliffs on the backside. And except for the tree tunnel entrance, now indiscernible from the rest of the wood, it appeared impervious.

“Wait here until I have inspected the grounds a little closer to the falls and bring the wagon up on my signal.”

Jayf hopped up on the buckboard and Kestrel and the Dragonkin exchanged a quizzical glance as Marley strode toward the cliffs at the back of the small dale. He soon stood before the tiered waterfall, the base tier falling into a pool of crystal-clear water. Along the side of the pool, a path of spongy spring green moss ran, disappearing behind the falls. After a few moments of scrutiny, Marley waved at them to follow.

As they pulled up alongside him, he said, “Behind the waterfalls lie a place of consecration, the place to build the pyre for Moira’s body.”

Kestrel frowned and asked, “Can we wait until sunset?”

“Not to worry youngling, we will follow the clan’s traditions as closely as possible to honor the Thorn-wolfs.” Marley helped Kestrel down from the wagon before continuing, “The pyre needs to be done before sundown and laying her out before dark will make it much easier, but the ceremony will wait until you are ready.”

The afternoon passed quickly as Marley finished his preparations for the evening ceremony. Now, although they all needed rest, Marley paced beneath a flowering lumalia tree. He knew the wagon slowed them down. They needed the ability to go where it couldn’t if they were to outrun and outsmart the people after them.

But oh, how he loathed telling Kestrel she now had to give up almost everything she owned… after giving up everything she loved. He sighed, rubbing his hand across his scared forehead as he stared back toward the wagon and his resting friends. Soon he noticed Kestrel once more stirred and he wandered over.

The clan’s girl sat next to the stream and stared into the water. “My mother said there are elementals living in the water too,” she said, glancing up as Marley squatted beside her.

“And so there are, Mistress Thorn-Wolf.”

“Where do they keep their things?”

“They are all they need, I believe. You will have to ask one, young hawkling.”

Kestrel smiled faintly and asked. “Is it time?”

“Aye, it is time to prepare,” Marley said and stood.

He reached down to give Kestrel a hand up and walked to the pool before the tiered waterfalls. Kestrel followed him, curiosity evident on her face. He sat on the bank of the pool, removed his boots, and rolled his britches up to keep them from getting wet, while he spoke.

“To go into the inner sanctuary, you must wash your feet and enter barefooted.” He quickly washed off the dust and grime and used the edge of his cloak to dry.

“Should I wake Jayf?” she asked, looking over to where the dragonkin stretched out in the late afternoon shade of the wagon.

“No need, I am awake,” Jayf said as he stood, stretched and shook out his cloak. “Do you want me to come to the ceremony? I will understand if you do not want me there.”

Kestrel answered before Marley could speak. “Of course you should come. Perhaps my mother did not know you well, but she cared about you and she knew you have a good heart,” she said, a perplexed look on her face.

“Indeed, she would want all three of us there, Jayf,” Marley said, agreeing. He stood and offered the girl his place and his cloak.

Jayf sat quietly beside Kestrel and carefully washed his feet. The dragonkin wore the weariness and sorrow of the previous night like a stain smeared across his spirit. Marley feared the little Kith blamed himself for Moira’s death, but Marley knew the double-edged sword of a prophecy told.

It seemed an eternity ago since that promise to Moira around a clan campfire. A promise that now felt like the noose that held her in place before her death. He could not help but wonder, what if they had all been in the camp that night?

His friends signaled their readiness to start, and Marley asked Kestrel to bring his cloak. He led them behind the water to a small stone alcove where he’d laid Moira earlier. He lifted her body, wrapped in the colorful silks she loved in life, now a shroud. The moss, soft and cool beneath Marley’s feet, cushioned his steps as he carried his dear friend. From the falls, they followed a short passage beneath a rock ceiling riddled with holes.

Late afternoon sunlight spotted the ground, giving plenty of light in the tunnel to see the beautiful murals carved into the walls. Marley glanced back to make sure the enchanted artwork did not draw Kestrel or Jayf off of the path.

“Stay on the moss path. We were sanctified in the pool. We must stay clean. To leave the path is to desecrate this holy ground.” Both of his friends nodded, but neither spoke.

The passage ended in an area encircled by towering cliffs, but open to the sky. Moss spread out to cover the entire floor of this enclosure and a profusion of flowers grew in manicured beds, many blooming out of season.

Kestrel finally spoke, her voice hushed as she looked around. “What is this place and who takes care of it?”

Air, sweet and fresh, stirred the new leaves of a small stand of quaking Sparlark trees hugging the far cliff wall. Their quiet chatter seemed to turn to a whispered titter as Kestrel voiced her question.

Jayf shivered and Marley said over his shoulder, “Only those whose sacrifice touch even the spirit realm open the entrance to the Vale of Chimyra. Be at ease, little hawkling, we are guarded here. They will reveal themselves when and if they perceive the need.”

Marley expected more questions, but as they entered the center of this garden-like sanctuary, the very air demanded their reverence. He stopped in front of an oval, marked on the ground by variously hued gems. Each stone, the size of his double clenched fists.

“Kestrel, if you would, your mother’s favorite scarf and her necklace with the hawk feathers is in my cloak pocket. Please pull it out.” He sighed, his grief surging through him. After a moment, he cleared his throat and let the strap to the flower-crowned flask slide down his arm. “Jayf, if you could take the flask and get the two runes out of my pouch?”

Jayf fished the two stones out of the designated pouch, but picking up the flagon, he stated sadly. “It is empty.”

Marley nodded and directed Kestrel to lay the scarf lengthwise in the oval and place the necklace on top. When finished, she hastened to stand beside Marley.

“Now place a rune at the top and the bottom of the scarf and the flask on top of the necklace, Jayf.”

The dragonkin hurried to lay the items and Marley waited for him to return before he invoked the runes. Marley chanted low and deep but found the essence within the runes not enough for the task.

With deference, he drew from the sacred essence of the vale. He felt the Keeper’s presence and gave petition with his deepest obeisance for the vale’s aid. The center of the oval filled with mist as the runesmith chanted and when he stopped, the mist cleared as if never there.

A pyre of tiny laced branches filled with delicate blossoms, hawk feathers, and sweet plains grasses stood where the scarf, amulet, flask, and runes lay moments ago. Marley nodded to himself and knew the rightness of it.

“I fear building pyres is not something in which I am well versed. It has been long and long since last I stood here. The Keeper has blessed this solemn rite.” He carried Moira’s body to the pyre and laid her upon it, then backed away.

They stood, each wrapped in their memories, saying goodbye to Kestrel’s mother and their friend. The sky above stained pink and burnished gold with the setting sun. And as silence surrounded them like a cocoon, wisps of smoke rose from the pyre. Kestrel glanced over at Marley, a question in her eyes. The Vortryl shook his head.

The gems encircling the flaming pyre glowed in a rich variety of colors, each pulsing as if a score of beating hearts enclosed the flames. Marley’s eyes suddenly burned with the need for sleep. He struggled to keep from scrubbing to the drowsy call as he realized it was now his essence being drawn from to perform a deep weaving.

His heart thumped a matching rhythm to the gems and he forced his gaze away from the smoke spiraling up into the night sky. Wonder creased his forehead. It wasn’t his essence-weaving that started the funeral fire.

He glanced at Jayf and Kestrel. Both knelt, although not asleep. They looked entranced to Marley, their heads tipped skyward. Still, the glowing gems and an ethereal voice, singing under the breath of the wind, spoke of a benevolent force.

Marley looked up as well. The smoke from the pyre drifted across, built up and stretched out until an image of Moira stepped out. She danced for them then, one last dream-dance across a star-dazzled sky, and forgiveness and acceptance seemed to flood the glade.