Part 27 (2/2)

Lain hurried back to the others. When he reached where they had been waiting, he found only Ivy there. He had suspected as much. Her arms were crossed and her brow furrowed, an irritated frown on her face. It was clear to Lain why. Ether had followed him, he had felt it. In some form or another, she had watched as he performed his tasks. Had he the opportunity, he would have put it to an end, but by the time he became aware, the need for silence was too great.

”Show yourself,” he demanded sharply.

The intense wind swirled together tightly into her form and s.h.i.+fted to flesh again.

”Your skill is great, though I question your actions,” Ether stated.

”Why did you follow me?” he asked sternly.

”In light of my recent difficulties, I felt it necessary to ill.u.s.trate to you the degree of my own prowess,” she said.

”I told her not to, but she didn't listen to me,” Ivy huffed.

”I don't have time for this,” Lain growled. ”The sun will come up soon. We need to find someplace more secure. This will take time.”

”There is a house on the north side of this place. Charred and empty,” Ether offered.

”You have seen it?” Lain questioned.

”I observed all that this town and the surrounding mountainside has to offer a few moments after I had s.h.i.+fted to the wind,” she remarked.

”We shall see,” Lain said. ”Lead us there. On foot.”

Ether began to trudge through the deep snow in her human form. The distance was short, but the wind and snow made the travel slow. A heavier cloak coalesced about Ether's shoulders. Her feet sunk into the snow in light boots and emerged from the snow in heavier ones. She often removed the sensitivities to cold and hunger that plagued the mortal form, but in truth the windy form had taken most of what little strength she had restored. She needed to settle into this familiar form for a few hours more before attempting something like that again. It was with no small measure of relief that she agreed to remain as she was.

The spa.r.s.e buildings of the town became more so, and a fair distance from them, just past the sign post of the town, was indeed the remains of a st.u.r.dy house. Two walls still stood, and though piled with snow and what remained of the roof, the floor seemed fairly intact. Lain considered it. It was situated such that the walls hid the rest of the ruins reasonably well, and the distance from the road was considerable. It was not the ideal place to hide, but they were not likely to find a better one. He inspected further, revealing a hatch leading to a bas.e.m.e.nt comparatively untouched by the flames. With a nod, Ivy scurried inside, followed by Ether.

The bas.e.m.e.nt was shallow, as all were likely to be in the rocky, frozen ground of the mountains. Light and snow filtered through a corner of the floor above that had broken under the weight of the wreckage. It looked as though this place hadn't been touched since the fire. Lain crouched on the ground near the center of the floor. Ivy imitated him. He slowly began to enter the trance again, a task greatly eased by the lack of a constant, blasting wind in his ears. As he did, Ivy wearily looked about. She was still tired, but this new place interested her. There were chests here and there, shelves piled with jars, some broken, some intact. There was a mix of smells she didn't recognize. Slowly she edged away from Lain and carefully opened a chest, mostly keeping her eyes on him, fearful of a scolding.

When none came she began to look through the contents. Old moldy blankets. She frowned and put them away. Trying to get the smell out of her nose, she sniffed the air, something catching her attention. Carefully, she followed the smell. Her whole mind tingled as she drew in the scent. Ether watched.

”What is it now?” Ether asked.

”I smell . . . rosin,” she said.

”Why do you care about that?” Ether asked.

”I don't know . . . I . . . here it is!” Ivy said.

Tucked far into the corner, under a shelf and among a pile of other boxes, was a small case. She undid the latch and opened it to reveal a violin. Her fingers fairly shook as she pulled it from the case. She was transfixed by the sight of it. There was a look on her face of clarity, of focus, of remembrance that she had never shown before. Ether opened her mouth to object as she plucked a string, but instead she kept her silence. Part of her was interested in this behavior. More so, she was eager for the reprimand that Ivy was certain to bring upon herself from Lain.

Lain slowly pulled himself from the young trance to the sounds of quietly bending notes as her fingers twisted at k.n.o.bs and her ears flicked. The strings were quickly coaxed into their proper tension. There was a skill behind her motions. This was not new to her. The plucking was soft. Certainly not audible above the whipping wind outside. For the moment, Lain tolerated it. A few more deft twists and each string produced the proper tone. She reached into the case and pulled out the bow and rosin. Testing the string, she applied some of the rosin. The serenity on her face was incredible. Finally she raised the bow to the strings.

”That is enough,” Lain warned.

She paid him no heed. The bow touched to the strings and a long, soft, crisp note was drawn from them, then another. Her movements were deliberate, and flawless. It began as a slow, mournful, weeping melody. The song was barely above a whisper. Steadily it grew brighter, quicker. Her fingers were dancing on the strings. The yellow aura that had surrounded her when she was laughing returned. A look of pure joy came to her face. Again Lain felt the warmth in what remained of his wounds. The intensity grew as the tune grew louder, and soon Lain feared that if it grew any further they would be heard. He placed a hand on her shoulder. She jumped.

”Lain, when did you wake up? Did . . . did you hear me? I can do this! It feels right, it feels natural!” she said. ”Ether, did you see? Ether?”

Ether had a far away, almost horrified look on her face.

”She is the . . . the artist, the prodigy spoken of in the prophesy. One of the originals. d.a.m.n her. She is . . . she was one of us,” she said.

”What? What do you mean?” Ivy asked.

”The five original Chosen were created by the G.o.ds. The swordsman, leader of men. The one with the blood of a fox, master of all weaponry. Myself, unparalleled mystic being. The strategist and tracker. The last was to be the artist and prodigy,” she said, almost fearful of her words.

”And I'm the prodigy?” Ivy said.

”There is the possibility that this was among the knowledge that was forced into your mind, but the effect it has upon you . . . it is deeper by far than anything I've seen,” she said.

”So you've been treating me badly, and I am just like you!” Ivy said.

”You are nothing like me. You could never be like me. All this means is that the foes we face have the ability to turn a pure and perfect being into . . . you, and when you die your replacement will be as useless as Myranda was,” Ether said.

”Hey . . . HEY!” Ivy objected.

”Quiet! Both of you!” Lain growled. ”We will be here until my sword is repaired. If the two of you will be at each other's throats all of that time, something will have to be done about it,” Lain said.

Ivy shrunk away like a scolded child, sitting in the corner, pulling her hood down over her eyes and pouting until her weariness caused her to slowly drift off. Ether waited patiently until the slow, regular breathing of sleep overtook her. Lain was still awake.

”Rather cold. A fire might be useful. For the two of you, of course,” Ether suggested.

”We cannot risk the light or the smoke,” he said.

”If the light and smoke are a risk, I can eliminate them,” she offered.

Lain was silent for a time.

”It would be useful,” Lain agreed.

Ether rose and gathered a few pieces of the lumber. She took weakly to flame and took a seat on the pile. A moment later the wood began to darken and warmth began to spread, but the flames of her body sunk to wavering black and not a wisp of smoke rose. Before long the bas.e.m.e.nt was livable, even comfortable. Lain did not reenter the trance. With his wounds healed, all that remained was weariness, and he could cope with that well enough. Ivy was deeply asleep, affording Ether as near as she was going to get to a few moments alone with Lain.

”Why?” Ether asked.

Lain s.h.i.+fted his gaze to her but remained silent.

”Why does this creature earn your affection while I am denied it? I do not desire the feelings you squander on her to be spent on me for my own sake, but for yours. It makes no sense to cloud your mind with her. What about her could be desirable that I do not possess tenfold?” Ether asked.

”She is of my kind. The two of us may well be the last. I must protect her,” he stated.

”She is not of your kind. I am. She has been twisted and warped to resemble your kind. Indeed, you are not of your kind. Not as you use the words, at least. You were not born of malthrope parents. Your father was a G.o.d,” she scoffed.

”I am what my life has made me, as is she,” he replied.

Ether considered his words, swiftly dismissing them as yet another symptom of the damage that his time among the mortals has done to his perception of himself.

<script>