JUSTICE (The Ferryman + The Flame #2)

by Paille, Rhiannon

  Krishani’s head snapped to the old man as he shifted his weight on the ground. “How many more are there?” His heart began drumming wildly in his chest, fear pooling into his arms and legs, making his knees tremble.

  Mallorn nodded and reached for the bag. “Would you hand me the bread?” Krishani turned behind him and handed him the cloth with the bread inside of it. Mallorn broke off a small piece and took a bite. Krishani waited in anticipation.

  “We call them the Valtanyana, but they go by different names in different places. There were eleven of them.” Mallorn took another nervous bite and chewed on it for a long time.

  Krishani found himself awed. Not about the Valtanyana, he had heard those stories before, but it had been thousands of years since they were silenced. The stories were told because of the disarray they left behind. Factions of the Daed in the Lands of Men still believed in them, waited for their return. Nobody in Avristar thought it was possible. He put his hands in front of the fire to warm them and saw the black marks trailing up the back of his hand, the wisps of darkness almost reaching his wrist. He let out a guttural gasp and shoved his hands underneath him. “There were so many.”

  Mallorn nodded. “Tor was supposed to be the twelfth, but by the time they found him, he was different. He rebelled against them. And he won.”

  Krishani let the words sink in, but all he could hear in Mallorn’s voice were more odds stacked against him. Crestaos swept through Avristar without a second thought to the people and he found Kaliel in the blink of an eye. The kinfolk and the elders were powerless against him.

  Kaliel was never strong enough to beat him.

  And there were more like him out there.

  “How many of them have escaped Avrigost?”

  Mallorn shrugged. “I don’t know. The Daed have existed since before the Valtanyana were defeated. I suppose Crestaos was released by one of their factions.”

  Krishani took a deep breath. “Isn’t Tor aware? Isn’t he going to do something about it?”

  Mallorn shifted his weight on the stone and pulled the blanket over his shoulders. His grayish white hair was frayed around the edges and hung loosely to his shoulders. He looked so different on Terra. His skin was whiter, full of wrinkles, his nose gaudy and huge, eyes sunken into their sockets, clouded blue. “He has warned the Lords of the Lands there isn’t more he can do.”

  Krishani pulled his knees to his chest and rested his forehead on them. “How did Tor defeat them? Didn’t he have an army?”

  Mallorn shook his head. “I don’t know his secret. I realize, however, that he was unable to kill them, and that’s why Crestaos has returned.”

  Fear seeped into Krishani’s heart. He wanted to be at the top of the mountain when it exploded. He wanted to live out the last minutes of her life with her, but instead the last memory anyone had of Kaliel was lost with the beast that forced her death. As much as he hated to admit it, he wasn’t angry with the feorn. Pux wasn’t the last person to see her before she died; he was just the last person she knew. He was angry with Crestaos, angry with him for forcing her to sacrifice herself. Crestaos was the only other person who knew what she was like in her last moments of life. Krishani felt a sudden urge to find him, quelled by the thought Crestaos might not be the only enemy anymore.

  “He’s only one, not eleven.” He tried to sound brave but his voice cracked and tears streak down his face.

  “Aye,” Mallorn said. He looked weary and tired.

  “Are you sure he didn’t take her?”

  Mallorn met his gaze. “I hope not,” he admitted.

  Krishani gulped, dread washing over him. He pulled the blanket around himself and closed his eyes, letting darkness take him under.

  13

  Ancestor

  Krishani woke to the sound of footsteps. He flinched and opened his eyes, scanning the area for signs of the others. The night passed in restlessness, the land too barren and empty to ward off nightmares. He felt the wisps of blackness crawling up his arm, aching to pull him into visions of souls in limbo, fighting to leave the plane of existence. On Avristar he was taught when someone died, their soul went to the Great Hall where it waited for the next life. Visions of the black thing he saw in the village clouded his mind. No one deserved to be taken by those things.

  Pux moaned and rolled over, pushing himself onto his elbows. Krishani frowned at the feorn. Pux looked different now that they weren’t on Avristar. His animal legs appeared skinny and malnourished, while what could be seen of his skin through the hair looked ashen.

  “Ahdunie,” Krishani greeted in the native Avristar tongue. He pressed his lips together and realized he would need to curb his language if he was to be accepted.

  “Good morrow.” Pux stretched, yawning and glancing at the fireplace. “Did you cook last night?”

  He shook his head. “No, we ate the bread.”

  “Oh, is there any left?”

  Krishani handed him the bread and stole a glance at Mallorn. The space on the other side of the fire was empty. He scrambled to his feet and climbed into the tall grass. Mallorn stood on the rock, staring across the land before them.

  “That animal sleeps long,” he said.

  Krishani said nothing. He climbed the rock and sat beside Mallorn. His stomach was a muddle of grief as he thought about what the day would bring. “How much longer?”

  “If I am precise, we will arrive by dusk.” He held up a hand to his forehead, attempting to see through the trees and brush that blocked their way. “But we must stay off the main roads. That will make this difficult.”

  Krishani grunted a response and went to check on Pux. He sat by the burnt branches munching on bread. He looked at Krishani with big brown innocent eyes. He had eaten almost half of the second loaf.

  “I have no idea when we will find more food,” Pux said.

  Krishani sighed as Mallorn appeared behind him. He slung his bag over his shoulder. Krishani hesitantly grabbed the other pack and stuffed the wool blankets into it. He secured the strap across his mid section and looked at Mallorn with a forlorn expression.

  “I don’t know if I can do this.” No matter where he was, part of him wanted to run back to the shore where the boat had disappeared into the mist and beg for it to reappear. Even if Kaliel had told him to go, even if his duty as the Ferryman was inevitable, he still loathed the idea.

  Mallorn only turned to the east. The sun hid behind overcast clouds. Dark gray wisps floated by. Mallorn descended a small grassy hill and treaded on a thin forest path through the skinny trees. Soon they were camouflaged by the dense cover of spruce and birch, the main road paces away. Hours passed in mundane conversation. They went by a rocky field, crossed a shallow ravine and padded through wide spaces between trees. They stopped for lunch and ate the rest of the bread. Krishani almost refused to continue.

  “What will Tulsen tell me that I don’t know?” His shoulder pressed against the trunk of a tree as he loudly exhaled. His foot smudged the dirt as he glared at Mallorn.

  “Why,” Mallorn replied. The Elder pulled the drawstrings together and slung the bag onto his back. He looked at the sky and Krishani followed his gaze, noticing the sun trailing behind them, peeking through cracks in the clouds. Mallorn froze. “Halt!” he said in a hoarse whisper. He crouched to the ground as Krishani and Pux dove into the forest brush.

  Krishani listened to the forest around him, birds chirping, leaves rustling, and footsteps that weren’t theirs pounding on the ground. Mallorn put a finger to his lips, his eyes meeting with Krishani’s.

  The hunters neared the path, two of them on foot with nothing but daggers and light clothing covered by cheap armor. Krishani peered through the bushes; they were less than fifty paces away. He watched them pass into the thicker bushes to the north and disappear. He waited several moments and closed his eyes, counting the seconds until they were safely out of earshot. It was evident there was a village nearby and the hunters were out to catch the daily dinner.


  “Were those . . .” Pux whispered.

  “Humans,” Krishani finished. He had seen them in his visions before. The Ferryman was human, or so he seemed; it was hard to tell when his face was obscured by blurriness in most of the dreams. He pulled himself out of the brush and dusted himself off, trying to blot out memories of Avristar, the times Kaliel had pressed him to talk about his nightmares. Her voice was enough to make him hate everything he was.

  “We better hurry up through this patch or we will be spotted,” Mallorn grunted. He stalked to the east and crossed the path the hunters had taken. It was wide and seemed to be a path well-trodden by foot. Mallorn narrowed his eyes as he continued to forge his own path through the woods.

  Pux stumbled along and tripped on his own foot. He let out a cry and Krishani glared at him. The sound died in his throat. The feorn rubbed his toe and winced at the pain while Mallorn continued without any words.

  “Come on,” Krishani said, towering over him. He didn’t have time to understand the feorn; his emotions were getting in the way of befriending him properly. He tried to forget the fact Pux had seen Kaliel in the Village of the Shee, he had been there moments before she awakened Avred. He needed to forget those thoughts because Terra was a foreign land and Pux was frightened. All they had was each other and the bleak future ahead of them. And answers Krishani wasn’t sure he really wanted.

  Pux grasped the elven’s outstretched hand and came to his feet. The feorn began picking burrs out of his fur. Krishani turned, unable to watch, and caught up to Mallorn. He heard Pux whispering under his breath, and his heart dropped. Pux was still trying to transport home. The feorn didn’t want to be there anymore than he did. He couldn’t blame him. He picked up a handful of leaves, crunching them in his left palm as he stepped in line with Mallorn.

  “Where is that animal?” Mallorn asked, his voice gruff.

  “Trailing behind.” Krishani paused. He thought he heard water rushing. He quickened his pace, thinking about the dream of the boy. Chills snaked down his arms as he reached the banks. He pressed his hands to his thighs, breathing hard. White tufts curled over rocks and fell into mini whirlpools that smoothed out along a bed of colorful pebbles. It wasn’t the river from his dreams, but it was the first time he had seen one up close. It wasn’t what he expected. Only a few paces wide and not very deep, big rocks jutted out in the center as crisp clear water babbled around them.

  “Gotts River,” Mallorn said. Krishani thought with all his time as a hermit he must know the lay of the Lands of Men by heart. “Castle Tavesin is not far from here.”

  Pux caught up and grimaced at the water. “How will we cross?” Pux asked, his eyes wide.

  Mallorn glared at him as Krishani dropped his bag and removed his cloak. He sighed and tucked it into the bag. Mallorn did the same and Pux watched as Mallorn assessed the shallowest point and dipped his foot in the water. It pooled around his shin and he looked back at Pux. “Follow my steps and it won’t be deeper than this.”

  Krishani grabbed the packs and waited for Pux to follow, but the feorn froze on the banks, arms crossed, eyes following the rushing water. Mallorn held out a hand and Krishani was grateful he didn’t have to help Pux. He wasn’t even sure he could be friends with the feorn yet.

  “Come before we are seen,” Mallorn hissed at him.

  Pux cautiously took Mallorn’s hand, crossing the river in seconds. Krishani followed, both bags held above his head. He threw them on the ground and crawled onto the shore. The forest hit a downward slope, the trees angled up amidst the downgrade. Mallorn threw his bag over his back again as a ripple of wind whipped across the lands. Krishani pulled out the cloak and fastened it around his shoulders. Mallorn was halfway down the hill when he secured the bag on his back. Moments later they stumbled into a large field, rocks and boulders littering the rolling hills and green grass.

  In the distance Krishani could make out a large stone wall. A well-worn dirt path led to the gates. He stiffened, fear settling in his gut as he thought about what was beyond the gates. Mallorn on the other hand didn’t waste time. He hastily took to the dirt path like he was unafraid of being seen out in the open. Krishani followed silently, glancing behind him to make sure Pux was still there. The feorn slowly shuffled along, his eyes scouring the land. Krishani threw on his hood, keeping his eyes to the ground.

  “These are Tavesin’s lands,” Mallorn said as they passed something that resembled a wooden cart.

  Krishani would have breathed a sigh of relief, but his stomach doubled up in knots at the mention of his ancestor. He paid attention to the gray and decaying day, the sky overhead giving no heed to whether it was midday or nightfall. He had no idea how long it had taken them to get there.

  “Who’s Tavesin?” Pux asked.

  Mallorn didn’t skip a beat. “Tulsen Tavesin is Krishani’s ancestor.”

  Pux had nothing to say.

  Krishani tried to fight the growing nausea. This wasn’t what he wanted. He thought if he ever agreed to heed the call, it would be with Kaliel by his side, not Mallorn. The big wooden gates grew in the distance until they were like giant statues towering over them. Mallorn glanced at the guard towers.

  “Ho there!” the old man called, using an unfamiliar language.

  Krishani fidgeted as the doors opened and guards at either side of the entryway ushered them into the village. Dull-looking straw cabins sat askew along the dirt roads. Further up the road on the left was a big barn with a fenced-in courtyard. Chickens and pigs were separated, pecking at oats and snorting in their troughs. Men on the other side of the road hammered and heated steel in a smithy. Barrels and small wooden boxes lined many of the cabins. People milled about, paying attention to their daily routines. The villagers were human, and most of them had their eyes on Pux.

  Krishani, Mallorn and Pux followed the guards along the main road towards the castle. The few trees that had been salvaged poked out of the ground at various intervals, their roots knotting against the dry, cracked mud. Chickens scuttled across the ground out of the corner of Krishani’s eye, pecking at kernels of corn scattered across the dirt.

  The entire scene was dismal. Everyone wore drab, ill-kempt garments that were mismatched or colorless. He shuddered, there was nothing beautiful or lifelike about Terra; it was a disdainfully mundane land that seemed to harbor nothing but bitterness and distress. When they passed the last of the dirt roads, they came to see Castle Tavesin in all its glory. Unlike the Elmare castle there was no moat, only a gray stone staircase that led to a wide porch and into a hall. The guards stood aside and opened the thick oak doors.

  Krishani gasped when he saw the bright red carpet, high-arched stone ceiling and the drab wooden table to the left. He had seen this hall before, the man in his dream—It was Tulsen.

  “Lord Istar!”

  Krishani stiffened and ducked his head as the gruff voice of his ancestor pierced the silence. Tulsen had a lilt to his voice, accentuating different syllables, making familiar words sound funny. He clenched his fist and sucked in a breath between his teeth. Mallorn wasn’t Istar; Istar was a traitor that wanted him dead.

  “My you are looking old!” Tulsen said.

  Krishani glanced at him. Mallorn shook hands with the man who was about a foot shorter than him but taller than most humans. He had wavy shoulder-length brown hair and strong hazel eyes. His face was slightly wrinkled, but smooth other than the beard he sported. He wore long brown robes with gold embroidered edges and had too many rings on both hands.

  Mallorn laughed. “I suppose you would mistake me for the Lord of Avristar, however, I am not him.”

  Tulsen’s expression changed to show a hint of alarm.

  “I’m Mallorn.”

  Tulsen’s eyes darted to either side of the hall. Krishani thought he heard someone shuffling around in the wings, but the sound faded. The doors to the hall shut and Krishani suddenly felt like the air had been sucked out of the room and he was suffocating. He drew a forceful
breath through his teeth, tasting the stench of rotting food on his lips. He glanced at the table; at the far end was a silver platter with what looked like chicken bones strewn across it.

  Tulsen turned back to Mallorn, his expression less than welcoming. “Why did you leave Avristar?” The accusatory tone to his voice made Krishani nauseous. Tulsen paced towards the wooden throne and carefully sat down.

  Mallorn flexed his eyebrows and slowly strode towards the throne while Krishani and Pux trailed behind. Krishani thought Mallorn was trying to choose his words carefully, deciding whether or not to tell Tulsen of the atrocities on Avristar. They didn’t leave by choice. They escaped. Fear brimmed in his heart as he thought of Kaliel. Mallorn wouldn’t tell Tulsen about her so carelessly, would he? There was no way he could tell Tulsen the story of the Ferryman and the Flame. He pushed away the memories of Kaliel and tightened his jaw. He went to reach for Mallorn, threaten him not to say anything, when Mallorn spoke.

  “Lord Istar has more pressing matters to attend to in Avristar.”

  Krishani dropped his hand and let out a breath. Mallorn wasn’t as stupid as he thought he was. Tulsen nodded and looked at the stone pillars forming the foundation of the castle. His stare was vacant.

  “Who accompanies you?”

  “The Ferryman.”

  Krishani wanted to vomit. He swayed back and forth, trying to resist the urge to collapse.

  “And another!” Tulsen hissed. His eyes knifed into Pux, who was shuffling his feet back and forth. Tulsen raised his arm and pointed a finger at the animal. “You brought a Child of Avristar with you.”

  Mallorn glared at the feorn. “By no fault of my own, yes, he is with us.” He crossed his arms and turned back to Tulsen.

  Tulsen pressed his lips into a line. “He won’t be allowed to leave the village.”

  “Aye.”

  Tulsen smiled wide for a moment before it slipped off his face, his eyes on Krishani. He stroked his beard as Mallorn pushed Pux towards the table and forced him to sit down. Mallorn perched himself beside one of the wooden support beams, and Krishani felt his gaze digging into him. He tried to avoid eye contact with Tulsen, but the equally menacing stare of his ancestor bore into him.