JUSTICE (The Ferryman + The Flame #2)

by Paille, Rhiannon

  Something curled around his ankle, pulling him deeper into the thin veils of darkness keeping him hostage. He tried to let the anguish roll off him in waves, hoping there was mercy, hoping death would take him, but limbo met his pain with pain. The slick darkness wrapped around his leg, pulling tighter with every turn.

  He screamed.

  Unexpected thrills of pain came on unwarranted. A thousand flaming daggers pierced his leg. Krishani stifled another scream. He closed his eyes and pictured Kaliel’s sparkling pools of green, eyes that made it worth living. He let the folds of limbo cover his body. He let pain rake over him like claws shredding his flesh, like fire searing his bones to ash, like parasites swelling his insides.

  He let the darkness torture him because it was better than torturing himself. A cruel stab of pain raced through his heart, but he didn’t flinch. Life for him meant watching others die again and again, the memory of the explosion replaying over and over until he couldn’t take it anymore.

  There was only one way to escape becoming the Ferryman.

  And so he let the darkness eat away at him.

  Kaliel had been in love.

  Desaunius paced the corridors, a squeamish knot in her stomach. Of all the things she overlooked, love was the one thing she never expected. She remembered the Flames from the First Era. They were an unparalleled force against the Valtanyana. Back then they weren’t girls. They were weapons pressed into the hands of their masters. The Flames were deadly. She closed her eyes and blotted out the image of Tempia and its endless crops of silver quenny fruit. Evennses had been her home for centuries, and Kaliel was the first full time apprentice she had taken since Avristar had been attacked by the Valtanyana. She mildly taught the others, but wasn’t responsible for them. Something about Kaliel drew her to break one of her own rules. She raised the girl since birth. Knowing how and why she died made Desaunius want to crumble into dust.

  She braced herself, her slippered feet drifting towards the balcony. She gripped the railings with her chalky-white hands. Her skin was wrinkled and bruised, showing signs of her age. The battle took so much out of her. The fear she felt when they swept across the battlefield still festered within her. She had seen them before, the Daed. In that moment the cloaked beings fought like valiant generals alongside an army from the Lands of Beasts. They were a parasite to Avristar, ripping her flesh to pieces, humbling her inhabitants. Desaunius fled from the war in the First Era. It was up to Tor to fight against the Valtanyana. After he silenced them, he shut himself in the Great Hall. It was the only fortress the Valtanyana couldn’t penetrate. She grimaced as she thought of the golden hallways, the Assembly Hall, the Chamber of Souls, the Great Library. The Great Hall was larger than any of the lands, made of pure gold.

  Desaunius was certain Kaliel was there, but it didn’t make the pain any less bearable. The Great Hall wasn’t a paradise. It was a holding cell for souls, a place caught between one life and the next. It meant Kaliel wouldn’t return to Avristar. Her soul wouldn’t form in another bed of flowers, it wouldn’t bloom and flourish and she wouldn’t be given to another elder. She was a Flame, an embodiment of magic itself, and because of Crestaos, she couldn’t be reborn without starting another war. It was too dangerous.

  Her heart dropped as she thought of Krishani, the boy Kaliel had loved. Desaunius didn’t want to admit to Atara that she agreed with her; it was just so hard to take in. Atara was adamant Kaliel had fallen in love long before she was sent to Orlondir. Desaunius sighed and stumbled away from the balcony. She drifted towards the West wing where the apprentices were healing. The castle felt so much like death she had to stifle the urge to vomit. She quickened her pace and turned the corner only to see a sliver of light from an opened door illuminating the darkened hallway. Her footsteps were silent along the burgundy carpets lining the stone halls. She neared the door; flickering from a candle inside cast light on her face. She inched the door back and stepped into the room. The pain instantly laced itself around her and she whimpered.

  Lying on a bed in the center of the room, Krishani’s face turned towards a bowl of herbs on the end table. His hair was a disheveled mess of midnight black, stringy and draped around the nape of his neck. Desaunius tucked her head to the floor. She rounded the bed and stared at his agonized features. Even comatose he looked pained. She traced his sunken eyelids fringed by the same dark hair and pale cheeks. He was elven like Kaliel, the sharp point of his ear poking out from the locks of hair. She didn’t understand how it was possible for them to fall in love. Krishani looked like an ordinary elven; what Atara had said about him didn’t feel real. He looked so harmless. She wondered what Kaliel saw in him. She wondered what he saw in Kaliel except she was a Flame, and the things that made her different also made her adorable. It was easy to love Kaliel for all her flaws.

  Desaunius let out a slow breath and carefully reached towards the bowl of herbs. She wetted the cloth, preparing to rub it along his brow. The movement was autonomous; she wanted to soothe his pain, tell him Kaliel was safe. She knew far more about the lands than most of the elders in Avristar. There were words for Krishani, wisdom she could share with him because he needed to know. She wasn’t sure any of it would comfort him though. She mostly wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault for falling for Kaliel, but he didn’t understand what a Flame was, what they were meant for. She wanted to tell him it was better this way.

  Desaunius brought the cloth to his brow and padded it gently. She let out a sigh and choked, realizing too late she had made too much noise. In a swift movement, Krishani opened his eyes and grasped her wrist. She let the cloth fall between them as his mismatched eyes pierced her own. It was something so strikingly different from every other adept on Avristar she almost let out a wail. She forgot for a moment how much she looked like the girl that was a Flame.

  “Kaliel.” Krishani gasped as he fought for breath and sat up.

  Desaunius stood and pulled her arm out of his grasp. She had no intentions of causing the boy more pain. “No, I am Desaunius.”

  Krishani leapt to his feet and grabbed her by the shoulders. He spun her around to face him and traced the contours of her profile, comparing similarities down to the last fleck of darkly-shaded green circling her iris. His eyes watered with anger as his fingernails dug into her skin. Desaunius felt ashamed as he searched her face, his expression clear. Only Kaliel should look like Kaliel, this was an abomination, a sick joke.

  Desaunius shook with the sensation of grief as the power of his anger flooded her. It felt like all the light in the world drained away with his penetrating glare. She tried to pull away, but he kept his hands on her shoulders. She winced at the pain of his grip.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered in a plea for him to let go. Coming to his room had been a mistake. She should have returned to the forests of Evennses when the battle was over. Anything she had to say to him seemed moot. The love he had for Kaliel was reflected in his mismatched dull eyes. All he could see was her; all he ever wanted was her. Desaunius understood that now.

  His fingers trembled as his eyes widened, his pupils almost completely dark. She wanted to tear herself out of his grasp, but the anger on his face made it hard to look away. It took her a moment to realize it was like looking into a stained glass window pane for him, a pane of sharp shards of glass that cut his insides with their jagged edges. She went to say sorry again, but he thrust her away. She landed hard, her face colliding with the floor. She let out a startled cry as her hands dug into the floorboards. Krishani ran his hands through his hair and turned in a circle.

  “You look so much like her . . .” His voice was raspy and hollow. Krishani carefully picked up the saucer and turned. Desaunius pushed herself up, turning to face him. He stopped and almost dropped the candle on his boot. She felt a welt forming on the side of her face. She let a hand run over the mark. Seeing Desaunius marred was like seeing Kaliel dead. Desaunius saw the reminder flicker into his expression. The Valtanyana came for Kaliel, t
hey hunted her with insatiable hunger, lusting for the saccharine taste of her Flame.

  Krishani doubled over, the candle slipping from his hands. Fire. The candle graced his cloak and a spark lit the fabric. Anxious flames swept up the cloak and Krishani closed his eyes like he welcomed the heat.

  Desaunius’s eyes widened as she watched the cloak go up in flames. She ignored her throbbing face and turned to the corridor. “Help!” she called. She turned back to Krishani, who stood calm and reserved. It seemed like he was waiting for the fire to eat through the layers of clothing hanging off him.

  “You’re mad,” Desaunius said evenly as she approached him. His eyelids slipped shut as she pushed him onto the bed in the hopes she could drown the fire. Smoke seeped out from underneath him as he hit the bed, but flames still circled the bottom of his cloak. She frowned and took a step back. Her eyes focused on his burning body as she held her hands out and recited an incantation to snuff out the remainder of flames. All of her was crushed by his self-destructive attitude. She didn’t think she could feel worse, but seeing him made her reel with grief over the loss of the girl she thought of as a daughter. Smoke rose from the bed and Desaunius let out a heavy sigh. She took one last look at his face and stepped into the corridor.

  Melianna stopped short and their eyes met. “By the land,” she gasped, a hand covering her mouth, her head swaying back and forth.

  Desaunius had almost forgotten about the affliction to her face, but her hand curiously reached up, covering the forming bruise.

  “What happened?” Melianna asked.

  Desaunius didn’t want to tell her. She raised her head with pride and fought to hide her mistake. “You should tend to him, he’s . . .”

  “He woke?” Melianna whispered.

  Desaunius feigned knowledge that this was the first time and nodded her head. “Aye, he was angry.” She passed Melianna and fled down the corridor. She heard the door creak and a cry erupted from Melianna’s lips.

  “Wait!”

  Desaunius turned at the edge of the corridor, refusing to make eye contact with her.

  “What will I tell Lady Atara?” Melianna asked. Smoke billowed out of the room and into the hallway.

  Desaunius tried to stay strong, but she choked on her words. “It was an accident. The candle fell.” She didn’t wait for Melianna to respond as she escaped.

  6

  Farewell Ceremony

  Istar stood at the bottom of the East wing staircase, a hard look on his face. “Desaunius is leaving?”

  “Aye, she will not return.” Atara folded herself into his arms for a brief moment. He gripped her, but there was no warmth in him, rigid like stone. Atara pushed away and moved to the staircase. She gave him a wayward glance and motioned for him to follow her. He wasn’t ready to have this conversation. He was still angry with Krishani and couldn’t stop the rage burning the back of his throat.

  “There are more pressing matters to be concerned about, Atara,” Istar said. He followed her down the corridor, taking slow strides. She looked so broken, so in need of answers. He wasn’t sure anything he had to say would comfort her.

  “Krishani worries me.”

  Istar stopped and looked at her, really looked at her. Her face was splotched with red blemishes, the soft curvature of her face giving hints to her age. Her green eyes were sunk into her face, faint purple shadows circling them. Her lips were bruised and bitten—she wasn’t okay at all.

  “There’s nothing I can do for him,” he said. The gruff sound of his voice surprised him. He glanced down at his hands, wrinkled lines over top of veins. His rings, a simple silver snake eating its own tail symbolized his marriage to Atara, and a golden band, the shape of a tree etched into it symbolized his marriage to the land.

  Atara frowned and stepped away from him. She looked confused. “What do you mean?”

  Istar pulled his hands down to his sides and sucked in a deep breath. “Avristar will make her decision about his fate. I cannot change it.”

  Atara gasped and choked at the same time. “You would subject him to judgment?”

  Istar tried not to show the distress in his eyes, but the astonishment on her face hurt. Before the Valtanyana attacked Krishani had been called. He was meant for the Lands of Men. Keeping him in Avristar was dangerous, more so than it had been before, when they thought he was a Child of Avristar. Istar didn’t feel sorry for him in the least. The Great Oak gave him a parable; Krishani surrendered the girl in the end. It was time to fulfill the rest of the parable.

  “He caused this fray,” Istar hissed. His stone cold glare bore through her.

  Atara looked like a sheet of ice. She took another step away from him. “Hasn’t he suffered enough?”

  Istar sighed heavily and shifted his weight. “Avred erupted again. And the storm—” He stopped, not wanting to say what he thought. He tried to keep Atara ill informed about Krishani and his reign of destruction. It was peculiar a boy with such unexplainable power would come to Avristar. He didn’t have to wonder where that power came from anymore. Ferrymen were the Ambassadors of Death. They were immortal, almost invincible.

  Atara understood. “You think it is his doing.” Her arms fell limp at her sides. She looked like she was in pain.

  “Avred is awake. Avristar is angry. Krishani should have surrendered when he had the chance,” Istar said.

  “We shouldn’t have forced him to leave.”

  “We cannot let him stay! He is not even one of ours.” He wanted to storm away without another word, but after a few paces he turned back. What he hadn’t told her before he had to tell her now. His conversations with Mallorn over the past few summers were always about Kaliel and Krishani. Mallorn hadn’t always been a hermit.

  “Mallorn confirmed it. Krishani is the Tavesin’s Ferryman. His kin abandoned him here when he was a child. He was never Avristar’s.”

  “I didn’t know, that he wasn’t a Child of Avristar,” Atara said slowly, even though the words were hollow. She uncomfortably rubbed her shoulders.

  Istar instinctively moved towards her. He went to pull her into his embrace, but she crossed her arms and shook her head. He stopped, his mind circling around the Valtanyana. He wasn’t sure why they left without executing every last one of them. It wasn’t their style. He desperately wanted to know what happened to Kaliel in those final moments on the mountain. He needed to find Mallorn. The Kiirar knew something about the beacon, what set it off, what forced the shields surrounding Avristar to fall.

  He sighed. Kaliel was just as unpredictable as Krishani. He should have seen it earlier. He should have forbidden Atara to train her. He loved Atara, but she was so naïve. How long had she known about them? Why didn’t she tell him? He wasn’t a soft husband, but it wasn’t a reason to shut him out. Krishani was always a danger to Avristar. It was only a matter of when and how he would bring the island to its knees. He never expected Kaliel playing a part in the destruction, let alone be the cause of the war. And he couldn’t punish her for her mistake.

  “As I said, when he wakes, he must face the Gatekeeper,” Istar said.

  Atara took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Then I hope he never wakes. I couldn’t bear it, knowing what his life has become.”

  Istar grabbed her by the upper arms and tried to stare into her eyes, but she tilted her head towards the floor. “Do not wish him death.” He let go and turned to see Pux standing in the hallway behind him, a mangled expression on his face. Istar turned and shot a look at Atara. “I will see you at the farewell ceremony.”

  “Aye,” Atara said as he stomped away.

  Pux watched Istar turn the corner. “I came to say I wouldn’t be present at the ceremony.” After the episode with Grimand he went to the kitchen, forced down a chunk of bread and a cup of water and went back to his cot. More staring at the ceiling, more fading in and out of sleep. He wasn’t even tired; he just didn’t know what to do anymore.

  Atara sighed. “Not you, too. Please don’
t tell me you’re leaving. You haven’t had time to heal.” She sounded exhausted and weary. She clasped her hands together and held them at her waist. “I need you to be strong.”

  Pux shook his head. His brown eyes were distant and tired. He had bathed, but his reddish brown fur was prickly and unkempt. Locks of dark brown hair fell past his small pointed ears and it was littered with cowlicks. He knew he looked about as horrible as he felt. He wasn’t the strong type.

  “She was my best friend, and I was the last person she saw before she died.” Pux moved to the balcony, his fur-covered hands gripping the railing hard.

  Atara placed a hand on his shoulder. “You were more than her best friend, Pux, you were her kin.”

  Pux smiled to himself, the perfect image of Kaliel emblazoned in his mind, heart-shaped face, sparkling green eyes, muddy white dress. “I saw how much she loved him. I wish she had a chance to say goodbye.” He gulped and tried not to think about the village, the blood smearing onto the sand. He had known her for so long it was hard to see her like that: crazed and scared.

  Atara nodded. “She did, in her own way, I know it.”

  Pux stared at the Grand Hall, tracing the outline of the fountain. “Aye, whispers in the wind. She used to speak to everything so quietly when we were children.” His eyes met Atara’s. She looked just as distraught as he did, and guilty. He didn’t know why she felt guilty, though.

  “You’re still young, and naïve. I’m sorry we couldn’t prepare you for what was—is–out there.” Atara leaned her head against the stone. He didn’t want to interrupt her while she thought of the Valtanyana so he turned back to his hands on the balcony and tried to let the heaviness in his heart subside. After moments in silence, Atara moved to the corridor.

  Pux turned around and leaned against the balcony, crossing his arms. “She was so strong. Scared and strong and determined. She knew everything about who she was and what her parable meant.” Pux rambled more to himself than to Atara; it felt less awkward to say it out loud. He had to say something to comfort himself. He had to believe good would come from something so bad. Everyone was still alive; the enemies were gone, but it didn’t seem good enough. Losing Kaliel made the victory incomplete.