JUSTICE (The Ferryman + The Flame #2)

by Paille, Rhiannon

  Atara smiled. “She would have been the youngest apprentice to solve it.”

  Pux frowned. “Can you tell me something?” He didn’t know where to begin. Atara said nothing. “I thought I saw her eyes change color. She said she was a Flame, but I’ve never heard of them before.”

  Atara hung her head. “The Flames are what the Valtanyana want. They are unlike any other being Across the Stars. Each one is created differently. Kaliel was the Amethyst Flame, one of the most important, from what lore has to say about her.”

  Pux’s eyes widened. “You mean there are volumes about her?” He never ventured into the library in Orlondir. He never had a reason to read, but if there were books about her, he would read every day for the rest of his life.

  Atara shook her head. “Their lore is kept in the Great Library with Kemplan. Even I was not aware she was a Flame. Not until it was too late.”

  Pux’s heart dropped. All memory of her was being erased and there was nothing he could do to hang onto the pieces of her that lingered. One day she would be distant in his mind. He feared what life would be like years from now when he was an Elder, and she was still dead.

  “I think I’ll go to the orchards,” Pux said. He drifted down the corridor towards the courtyard and Atara didn’t follow him.

  “Seek Grimand. He will be leaving for Evennses soon.”

  Pux gritted his teeth and turned to face Atara. “I don’t need him to return to Evennses.”

  She sighed. “You cannot walk alone, it will take you days.”

  His emotions unwound as he became angrier and sadder at the same time. “Kaliel would understand. How can I return to the forest when every tree reminds me of her? When we lived in the same house, ate the same food, played in the same trees? Knowing she was alive and well in Orlondir was all that made it bearable. Even the Great Oak thinks I’m invalid. How do you expect me to return without her?”

  Atara hunched her shoulders. “Be patient.”

  Pux stared at her with disbelief. For all of his new found knowledge she still treated him as though he was completely unworthy. His mouth dropped open, but he had no words to say. He clenched his fist tight and thought about the orchard. “If all I am to you is useless, I’m better off invisible.” He turned and vanished.

  The cold wind made the fur on the back of Pux’s neck stand on end as he crossed the bridge and turned to the path on the right. It led into the rows and rows of apple trees creating the orchard. He noticed the leaves on the trees were frostbitten from the cold, and the remaining apples were covered in a layer of frost. He ran his hand along the skinny trunk of one of the trees and tucked his frozen hand under his arms to warm them up. As he let out a breath he could see it like smoke in the air. He shivered, aimlessly ambling through the rows, pretending not to feel the farewell ceremony.

  Part of him wanted to make a grand entrance, end the way they thought of him as useless and stupid. If he appeared, they might believe he was smart, but if he disrupted their grieving, they would only be angered by his presence. He picked a frozen apple off a tree and stared at it. It was a deep blood red. It made him think of the battle. He drew a deep breath and blinked. The apple turned to a bruised purple color, like an eggplant. He sighed. He wanted it to be a brilliant violet hue, like the one he had seen in Kaliel’s eyes, but instead it was murky.

  He rested his shoulder against the trunk of a tree next to him, then pressed his back against its coldness, sinking to the ground. His thoughts were muddled. He couldn’t just say goodbye to Kaliel and forget she had existed. He spent fourteen summers with her; there were too many good memories for them to be wasted. He closed his eyes and thought back to one of his earliest memories of her.

  He had been sitting on the steps to the porch, carving out a wooden toy with his paring knife. He wasn’t paying attention to the others, they all looked the same to him—hairy feorns, pale elvens, glass-like fae—and none of them wanted to speak with him because of how knavish he was. He barely noticed it when Kaliel hopped up on the steps and sat down.

  “You never talk to anyone,” she had said.

  Pux looked at her with a grimace. “No, I’m busy. Go bother someone else.”

  She rested her elbows on her knees and cupped her chin with her hands. “I don’t even know your name. The others say you’re mute.”

  “They know I can speak.” Pux had only seen nine summers at the time, and by the size of her, she looked like she had seen five. He was later surprised she was only two summers younger than him.

  Kaliel raised an eyebrow. “Which is why I’m here,” she chirped.

  Pux shook his head. “I’m not that good at it.”

  She shrugged. “You seem fine.”

  Pux stood and began walking through the tall grass in the meadow. He could walk and carve at the same time and wasn’t much for speculation. He hoped she wouldn’t follow, but she did, and it annoyed him. He stopped when he was in the middle of the meadow and turned to face her. “What do you want?”

  Kaliel poked her toe into the ground and gave him an awkward look. “I always lose,” she said. The other kinfolk were known for their games, but they never invited Pux because he never played the game right.

  Pux stopped carving, a spurious frown crossing his face. “I have no idea how to win.” He shrugged.

  Kaliel smiled. “I’m not interested in winning. I just thought since you don’t play, you might not be keeping score.” She inspected the bruises littering her arms and Pux sighed.

  “I could teach you how to carve.”

  Kaliel frowned again. “Desaunius won’t let me touch a knife.”

  He smiled and laughed. “You’re that clumsy?”

  Kaliel glanced at him hesitantly. “Most of these bruises weren’t from the games.”

  “Oh.”

  “Big roots . . .”

  Pux laughed out loud.

  “I should have known you were just like them.” Kaliel sighed and stalked towards the House of Kin. Pux thought she looked cute in her ivory maiden’s gown. She carefully paced through the tall grass, like she didn’t want to make a fool of herself in front of him.

  He stopped laughing. “Pux!” he called. He followed her, and she stopped, turning to face him.

  “What?”

  “Pux is my name.”

  “Oh.”

  “What’s your name?”

  Kaliel grimaced. He hadn’t even paid enough attention to know who she was and he began to realize how segregated he was from everyone else. “Kaliel.”

  They continued back to the porch. He sat down and continued carving while she watched. It turned out to be a deer, and she loved it.

  Pux sighed as he opened his eyes and looked at the frostbitten branches above his head. He never loved Kaliel the way Krishani had. To Pux, she was his little sister. He knew she would leave Evennses eventually, but he never thought she would have died. He buried his head in his hands as he let himself grieve.

  7

  Snow

  Mallorn stared at the rolling hills of Orlondir. It was late afternoon, the clouds thinning, showing off shades of pink and orange from the west. There were no words to describe the heaviness he felt. Bodies had been cleared from the battlefield, but the bloodstained snow remained. Blades of grass idly poked out of the snow; it was melting.

  The wind stung his cheeks and he turned away, retreating into the folds of his gray cloak. His head throbbed with faint memories of the battle, fragmented pieces awkwardly fitting together. This couldn’t be reality. Kaliel awakened Avred, the dangerous volcano, and it unleashed its fury on the land. The enemies retreated. How could her death be truth? Another gust of wind blew across the plains and whipped his face. He turned to the stables and went inside. Umber munched on hay, but paused when the Kiirar looked at him.

  “Home?” Umber said.

  “Soon,” Mallorn said. He patted the horse’s back and his one black eye fixed on the Kiirar.

  “I miss it there,” Umber repl
ied.

  Mallorn sighed. “There may be nothing left.”

  “The girl’s scent is in the barn.”

  “Aye, that will remain.”

  “Can we go now?”

  Mallorn thought for a moment, and shook his head. He didn’t need to say it for the horse to understand. It hung its head and continued chomping on strands of hay. Mallorn glanced at the fields again. It happened too fast, the enemy upon them, the explosion, waking to the aftermath. Sadness clung to everyone living on Avristar, whether child or elder.

  Or neither.

  Mallorn furrowed his brow, another sickly emotion hitting him. He closed his eyes and saw the mismatched irises of the Ferryman staring at him as he returned from the Village of the Shee. Krishani didn’t care about anything, but the well being of Kaliel. Mallorn didn’t blame the boy for his foolish love. There was nothing he could do about the way the Ferryman felt about the Flame.

  Unlike the rest of Avristar, Krishani was a stranger. Being raised by the elders didn’t mean he belonged. Istar knew that and kept the truth about the boy’s heritage from the Gatekeeper. He knew enough about Avristar’s history to know she didn’t get along with Avred, the island would be divided. Mallorn feared neither spirits of the land would have mercy.

  Not when Krishani betrayed the land itself.

  The land he was meant to marry.

  Mallorn turned from the fields and quickened his pace as he entered the servant’s hall. He turned into the kitchen, searching for spirit of hartshorne. The ingredient was rare, used during combat training. He faintly smiled as he recalled the only combat training he introduced Kaliel to.

  Eventually Mallorn would need to take to his home in Nandaro. See if the horses were alive. He had neighbors to check on, smaller villages to tell the story of the battle to. He would keep Kaliel’s memory alive, make sure all the Kiirar in Nandaro knew of the Flame that touched their lands. The chaos wasn’t her fault. Crestaos had always been an insatiable beast. He wasn’t the most deadly of the Valtanyana, but he was one of the craziest. Mallorn feared he was still out there, getting closer to his ultimate goal. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the present. He looked through the cupboards until he found the jar and pulled out a long strand of spirit of hartshorn. He folded it into his palm and darted into the hallway.

  Krishani both intrigued and scared him in a way he hadn’t encountered in thousands of years. Istar was clearly uninterested in unraveling the boy’s secrets, which left Mallorn to satisfy his own curiosity. Provided he wasn’t too late.

  He reached the end of the hall and climbed the stairwell to the west wing. With any luck Melianna wouldn’t be guarding his near-to-death carcass.

  The sound of the waterfall almost drowned out Kaliel’s voice. Krishani ignored the mist drenching him; his eyes fixed on her sopping-wet features. Dripping strands of white hair framed her face, green eyes shy and curious. She was poised at the mouth of the cave, hands curled around the edge. She mouthed something barely audible and Krishani smiled.

  Her ivory dress was dry, clinging to her clammy body. She tiptoed through the grass and he noticed the delicate curves in her feet. She had pretty toes. Krishani trudged along behind her, his cloak dragging across the grass. It was heavy, the bottom of it soaked with dew.

  “What are you thinking about?” Krishani asked.

  She paused, facing him, her green eyes sparkling even in the shadowy cavern. “Snow.”

  He frowned. “Why are you always thinking about that?” He slid his hand into hers and idly rubbed his thumb along the center of her palm.

  She shivered at his touch, blushing. He almost smirked at the reaction; he knew too well what kind of effect he had on her. Her eyes skimmed the grass and she gulped. “I want you to show it to me again.”

  Krishani sighed. The cloak felt heavier and in an attempt to ease the weight he shrugged it off. He glanced at the waterfall and recalled the first night they met. He turned water to ice, giving Kaliel something to remember him by. Knots formed in his stomach. Since the time of his departure from Amersil, he hadn’t been able to repeat the task. He shook his head. She twirled a strand of hair between her fingers, looking nervous.

  He smirked. “Tell me why.”

  “Why what?”

  “Why you want me to make snow.”

  Kaliel thought for a moment. “To know that magic exists.”

  Krishani laughed. “You know it does. You do more of it than I do.”

  Kaliel crossed her arms and stuck out her bottom lip. “What I do isn’t fascinating.”

  “So . . . I fascinate you?” he asked, taking a step closer and narrowing his eyes. His heart thudded as her eyes locked with his. She bit her lip and took her hands off his forearms.

  “Maybe.”

  He pulled her against him. She wrapped her arms around him and tried to avert her gaze. “You’re intrigued by me?” he mumbled.

  Kaliel lightly grimaced. She pressed her face into his shirt and shook her head against him. “I still want the snow.”

  Krishani locked her in his embrace. He pulled her feet off the ground and twirled around. She squealed and laughed. He eased her onto the ground and kissed her chastely. “Is that all it is? You stay with me, waiting for me to make snow?”

  Kaliel rolled her eyes and bounded out of the cave. She turned when she reached the mouth and looked at him. “Dawn comes!” She went to skip down the stone steps, but poked her head around the corner while Krishani picked up his cloak and fitted it around his shoulders. “And aye, I definitely like you only because you can make snow.” She giggled again and retreated down the steps.

  The cloak pressed on his shoulders. It was like it weighed a thousand pounds more than it did when he had taken it off. He tried to take a step forward, but faltered. He could barely move. The cloak pressing against him made him sick. It smelled different, strong and revolting. He knelt on the cave floor and closed his eyes. The smell worsened. He gulped trying to withstand it. Everything around him faded, the stench becoming his only reality. He tried to pinch his nose shut, but that made him woozy. He succumbed to the feeling and let the scent wash over him. It came in waves. When he opened his eyes he wasn’t in the cave, and in a panic he remembered Kaliel was dead.

  He waited for limbo to encompass him in nothingness, but instead the steady thump of his heartbeat sounded as he rushed to the surface of his distrait form. He clawed against it to avoid inhabiting reality, but the scent pulled him in, forcing him to twitch and stir. He sucked in a breath and opened his eyes. Shadows flickered along the ceiling, the scent filling the room. Krishani groaned. Every part of his body ached. His heart felt like it pumped poison through his veins. He stared at the ceiling for a long time, letting tears create oceans in his eyes.

  “Krishani,” someone said.

  He wanted to ignore whoever it was, but all he could do was avoid looking at the person who spoke. He looked at the dresser. The stool was empty and an open book sat face down on top of it. He let his eyelids droop, but the scent wafted through the air again and he snapped to attention. He involuntarily glanced in the direction of the scent. Mallorn sat on the edge of the bed, waving an herb in the air.

  “You cannot avoid life forever, boy,” he said.

  Krishani groaned and pushed himself onto his elbows. His body felt stiff and unmovable. He winced and swung his legs over the bed away from Mallorn. His boot-clad feet touched the floor. He looked at his reflection in the mirror above the dresser. The planes of his cheekbones were sallow. Dark shadows gathered under his mismatched eyes, both of them containing their own storm of grief. He looked as dead as he felt and shied away from his reflection.

  He took slow, shallow breaths, listening to the heaving of his lungs and the beating of his heart. Every move felt deliberate, as though he had to force his body to do what it used to do naturally. He continued to survey the floor as he tried to piece together what he wanted to say. After a long silence, he said the only thing he was thinking
.

  “Why am I alive?” His voice didn’t sound like his own. It was deep and raspy.

  Mallorn sighed. “Because you are.”

  “I shouldn’t be.”

  Mallorn gulped and recoiled. He shifted his weight on the bed and leaned over to put the spirit of Hartshorne on the end table. “She did everything she could to make sure you lived.”

  Tears stung Krishani’s face as the words stabbed him. There were less harsh things Mallorn could have said. “She wouldn’t force me to live without her.”

  “But you do. And you must.” Mallorn took a deep breath, crossed the room and stood over Krishani, towering above him.

  Krishani looked at the vacant space along the wall and shook his head. “I was too late.” He choked on the words, burying his face in his hands. “I let her die.” His hands were wet with tears as his shoulders shook. “I never should have left her side.” He didn’t want to look at Mallorn. The Kiirar was guilty, too, taking Kaliel to Avred, trusting in his guidance. He shouldn’t have let her face the volcano alone.

  “You cannot change the past,” Mallorn said.

  Krishani took a sniveling breath and exhaled. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “You must live, even when living is excruciating. This too will pass.”

  Krishani gritted his teeth. “I vow to you that this pain will never pass.” His words echoed off the walls.

  Mallorn avoided the boy’s glare and backed towards the door. Krishani looked at him with vacant eyes. He wanted to blame Mallorn for everything, but it wasn’t his fault. Krishani tightened his hand into a fist. His expression turned deadly as he thought about Istar. Mallorn paused in the doorway.