CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The power in the blood comes with a price

And dearer still the venom that she bore

For death is both an enemy and friend

To those for whom life leaves oft wanting more

To wield a strength that few ever conceive

Involves a struggle dire, without reprieve

—THE BOOK OF UNVEILING

“Tell me of this death stone that the physician came in search of.” Kyara sat next to Murmur high in the cavern, overlooking the simple beauty below. The other Cavefolk had dispersed, back to whatever duties centuries-old underground dwellers found necessary. Murmur had asked her to follow him, leading her up several hundred stairs to reach this perch. He hadn’t appeared to exert himself whatsoever on the climb, whereas Kyara felt as if her lungs were going to explode.

She was growing used to looking at him, though her gaze could not linger too long below his face as the sight of muscle and veins still made her queasy.

“When the prophecy came to me,” he began, “I saw those from other lands taking sides in the war to come. Your physician wields a foreign magic. His people combine the power of the blood with elements of both Earthsong and Nethersong. The foreigners have no inborn Songs, but their magic is very advanced. He and his kind will align themselves with the dead.”

Kyara shifted to cross her legs, thinking of Raal’s accent, one she had barely recognized as such because there had never been foreigners in Lagrimar.

“This death stone they seek is a caldera created by a sorcerer, Mooriah’s father. I met him long before she was born. I had made a mistake and sought him out so that I could make it right.” Murmur’s brow furrowed, and his deep breaths came slow.

“What kind of mistake?”

“A grave one, as it turns out. One that I still seek redemption for. In an effort to begin my penance, I shared some of the knowledge of our people. I showed the sorcerer how to trap one of their Songs in a caldera.”

Kyara’s hands flew to her mouth. “You know how to remove Songs?”

Murmur regarded her from the corner of his eye. “After Mooriah was born and her father realized her gift, he sought to trap her Song to save her life. In that time, Nethersingers were killed at birth.”

“I can understand why,” she said dryly.

Murmur clucked his tongue. “The sorcerer tested his plan on another infant who could call to the Nether, only it did not work as expected.”

“What happened?”

“He pulled the Song from the child and stored it in a caldera. But the babe’s relatives discovered what he’d done and stole the caldera.” He shook his head, ancient eyes clouded over and grim. “When they touched it, they saw horrible visions and were driven mad. Even without being activated, the stone had all the potency of a powerful Nethersinger, and no one alive knew how to control it.”

“Activated?”

He nodded. “The major calderas, the ones powerful enough to hold something as vast as a Song, are created with blood, but they only become active with death. The stone was dormant and still a menace. The sorcerer tried destroying the thing, but it was impossible. His only solution was to hide it where no one would ever find it.”

“This caldera he hid is the death stone that Raal seeks?” she asked.

“Aye.”

“And where did he hide it?”

“He sent a courier on a ship far to the west and had it thrown into the deepest part of the ocean.”

“So why is the physician looking for it in Lagrimar?”

Murmur sighed. “The sorcerer queen, the one trapped in the World Between, you know of Her?”

“The Queen Who Sleeps, yes. I never believed in Her, but … I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“Believe only the truth. She speaks to the Outsiders of the things She sees. The World Between is thin in many places and knowledge slips through. Two years past, She sent some of Her dreamers after the death stone—a man and his twin sons—to retrieve it from the depths of the ocean. But the foreign mages—Raal’s compatriots—somehow found out about the scheme and took the family captive.”

“And what of the death stone?”

“The foreigners believe the family knows of its whereabouts. That they succeeded in retrieving it and hid it again before they were captured.” He spread his arms to indicate he did not know the truth. “The Mountain Mother sees much, but the seas are beyond her view.”

“What would happen if Raal found it?”

Murmur closed his eerie eyes. He was quiet so long that Kyara feared the ancient had fallen asleep. “His clan has chosen the wrong side in the war to come. Anything that strengthens them, harms the rest of us. Death is a powerful friend. And pure control of Nethersong is rare. The blood connects us to it, but what you do, Kyara, is very valuable and exceedingly difficult to find. They want what you have.”

She gulped at a knot in her throat and hugged her arms around her. “I don’t want what I have.” A shiver went through her. “How do you know all this, anyway?”

“Mountain Mother bears witness.” He rapped his knuckles on the cave floor. “And I have lived a very long time.” A smile played on his lips, but it only unsettled Kyara even more.

She thought of the vision of Raal she’d had when holding the shard of glass. Only it wasn’t glass, it was a piece of the cave itself. The entire interior, the smooth, sparkling substance that made up the tunnels and caves, was a caldera of sorts, she realized. The entire world of the Cavefolk held knowledge, memories of the things that happened both inside and out. A library of the world stored in the walls and floors.

A shiver rolled through her as she wondered if blood had been required to store the memories in the mountain. Blood was necessary for all calderas; could one this large be different? And if it wasn’t … she didn’t want to know.

“Kyara.” Murmur’s voice reclaimed her focus. “You are here because you must learn to control your Song. You have only scratched the surface of your power, and it will be needed in the days to come.”

“You could take it away,” she whispered, butterflies taking flight behind her rib cage. “You could take my Song and store it in a caldera. Give it to those on the right side of the war. It could be just like the death stone.”

Murmur took a deep breath. She could actually see his lungs fill and struggled not to look away. “You would need to die before such a caldera would become active.”

“I am willing to die. I would gladly die to be rid of my Song.”

“Then you should also be willing to live.”

Her fists curled involuntarily. “And what would you have me do? Using my Song means hurting people, killing them. That’s all it’s good for.”

“That is not all.” Murmur’s palm opened, and another fragment of the cave appeared.

“How do you do that?” she asked as her fingers closed around it.

The vision was brief, just an image really. Darvyn sat at the edge of a tunnel, looking down into Serpent’s Gorge.

She drew in a breath. “He’s here. Where?”

“Use your Song. Feel the Mother’s embrace around you. Sink into her knowledge and memories. Your power is greater than you know. All you have to do to master your ability is to accept it. It is part of you. Embrace it and you can control it.”

Kyara clamped her lips together to keep from lashing out. She didn’t want to embrace her deadly Song. She wanted to be rid of it. And Murmur knew how to help her but wouldn’t. She would have to try to persuade him, but first, she needed to help Darvyn.

She glared at Murmur for a few moments before planting both her palms firmly on the cave floor and releasing her Song. It was no longer a pent-up creature surging against her strangled control. No, today it was a waiting accomplice, keen for a command. Eager to please, like a puppy.

She thought of the little lizard she’d befriended during her training. Not all beasts were monsters. Her Song could be a friend if she’d only let it.

The revelation left her shaky, but she focused on her resolve to find Darvyn. With that instruction, her Song rushed forward, showing her the map of the caves in her mind’s eye. She wasn’t just sensing the Nethersong in the organic life present, she was peering deep into the stone.

Nethersong was embedded in the smooth surface of the caverns. For generations, the Cavefolk’s magic had involved blood and sacrifice. This confirmation left her uneasy, but she strengthened her resolve and fell in tune with an ancient force—a harmony that she understood to be the Mother that Murmur had mentioned.

Darvyn came into focus. Through the cave, she sensed his exhaustion, his fear and desolation. The cave prevented him from singing. It was a protection the Cavefolk had created long ago when the Outsiders—the Earthsingers—first came to this land.

She longed to comfort him, to pull him into her arms and let him find relief there. Maybe she could reach him, lead him to her through the tunnels. Her Song was eager to try this new skill.

“It’s working,” she whispered.

Murmur shifted beside her. “Good,” he said. “Accept your Song and it will not betray you. You are capable of much more than you know.”

In her vision of Darvyn, she was a presence floating beside him. The bitter scent of the poison water below irritated her nose. The steamy air outside battled with the tunnel’s coolness at the cavern entrance, but the warmth of him was palpable. She reached out to touch his skin, and a blast of energy rushed past her, slamming into Darvyn and pushing him out of the tunnel.

As if in slow motion, he flailed in midair before falling to the deadly river below.