JUSTICE (The Ferryman + The Flame #2)

by Paille, Rhiannon

  “How long have you followed death in dreams?”

  Krishani tightened his fist, refusing to answer. It took excruciating strength to raise his head and look at Tulsen. He did it reluctantly, knowing there were more questions. He couldn’t hide the truth; he knew it was written all over his face and sunken into his eyes.

  Tulsen nodded. “Have you performed the first act of a Ferryman?”

  Krishani gave him a quizzical look, but something gnawed at his gut. He should have known the answer, but it was too painful to remember. Flashes of a dream flickered under his eyes. He watched the Ferryman pull an arrow out of the man’s chest, and the enemy stabbed him.

  It is your time now.

  It is your time now.

  Krishani coughed, doubled over, instinctively moving his hands to brace his chest. He gagged, choked, and wanted to fall on his knees, but wouldn’t give Tulsen the satisfaction. He forced himself to raise his head even if it hurt. Tulsen turned towards the throne, hiding the grief-stricken expression Krishani caught behind his half-lidded eyes.

  “So Davlin is dead.”

  Krishani cleared his throat, the coughing fit ceasing. He straightened his spine and looked at Tulsen. The Ferryman never told him his given name, but he had heard it before, in the last dream.

  “You received the call?” Tulsen seemed disenchanted about it like all he cared about was Davlin’s death. Krishani noticed the continuous unflinching pattern of the red carpet. Tulsen whispered something barely audible, but Krishani knew the rhythm of the whispers well enough. It was the blessing Davlin used to whisper all the time in his dreams.

  Krishani cleared his throat. “Aye.”

  Tulsen strode forward and grabbed Krishani’s hands. He scanned the contours of the black mark twining around Krishani’s right hand and his jaw tightened. “That’s all I need to know. Welcome home.” He said it flatly as though it was nothing to be happy about. His lips stretched into a wide smile.

  Krishani felt sick more than relaxed. He didn’t expect Tulsen to know anything about the disease on his arm, but as it turned out, Mallorn was right. Tulsen would be able to help, only he didn’t look like he would. Awkward silence hung between them as Krishani flexed his fingers, feeling for the shattered shards of himself. The dull ache in his heart intensified, making him lightheaded.

  “What still mystifies me is why Krishani was raised on Avristar,” Mallorn said. Krishani looked at him. His vibrant blue eyes seemed dull in the torchlight.

  Tulsen nodded, like he expected the question. “Avristar was the best hiding place. I knew they would treat him as their own. I also knew Lord Istar would return him to us when the time came. Life here has been difficult. The past almost two hundred years since Krishani was born have been increasingly dark.”

  Krishani gaped at the words. It had been nearly twenty on Avristar. He was still a child by their standards. “Two hundred years . . .”

  Tulsen raised his eyebrows. “Aye, time moves differently on Terra. We took you to Avristar to hide you and prolong the timelines, initiate you during a less war-torn time. Another hundred years to Davlin was nothing.”

  “Yes, well, you did not succeed in the second task,” Mallorn said.

  “You’re right. The Vultures are rallying worse than ever. Enemies are sweeping across the lands, burning villages at random. We cannot identify them.”

  Krishani recalled the vision of the burned village, and the black lifeless thing hovering over the body of a young woman. He shuddered. He knew why the chaos was spreading—it was clear Crestaos had returned. Tulsen had been spared the horror of facing off with that unstoppable beast.

  “We can only rely on the others for so long,” Tulsen said after a long pause.

  “What others?” Krishani asked.

  “Ferrymen. There were four families chosen in the Avristar quadrant. More exist in the Avristyr and Avrigard quadrants, but we rarely converse with them.” Tulsen rattled off the information as though it was something else Krishani was meant to know.

  Krishani glanced at Pux, wondering if in the midst of all of this he could count on him to come to his aid. The feorn had his head on the table and seemed to be either bored or in pain. “Who are they?”

  Tulsen gave him a wistful look. “Jenima Markesh of Nimphalls, Ambrose Telper of Amaltheia, and Noelle Yessenia of Matakasha.”

  Krishani recognized the names of the other Lands of Men. On Avristar they taught the children there were seven Lands of Men. Apparently there were only four Ferrymen to protect them.

  Pux perked up and glanced at Mallorn. “Aren’t those the names of the Lands of Men?”

  Mallorn grumbled something unintelligible and waved his hand for Pux to be quiet. “I have only seen the one family crest. I have a copy of it in my vault in Avristar. I assumed there were others, but what about their histories? Why are they so concealed?”

  Tulsen scratched his head and moved to the altar behind the throne. He shuffled through the papers and pulled out a single scroll. He handed it to Mallorn. The Kiirar stifled a gasp and handed it back to him. “So that is why the knowledge is forbidden.”

  Pux’s stomach growled so loudly Krishani flinched, startled by the noise. He too was famished, but hadn’t said a word since they’d broken for lunch hours ago.

  “Will there be food?” Pux asked, his voice meek.

  Tulsen narrowed his eyes, snapping his fingers. A servant appeared in the wings. “Fetch the others. We’re in need of a feast.”

  14

  Ten Thousand Years

  Krishani sat on the end across from Pux, while Mallorn and Tulsen took space further down, facing each other. The servants brought in a few trays of food: turkey and various yellow and orange vegetables. Pux chewed on a turkey leg as Krishani carefully ate slices of the orange misshapen food. It tasted horrible, like a mixture of sweetness and rottenness at the same time. He swallowed and took another wary sip of the brown liquid Tulsen called mead. Avristar was accustomed to serving spring water or tea. The mead smelled atrociously like honey, but tasted nothing like it.

  Tulsen stood and announced with his gestures they had consumed more than their fair share. Pux finished a last bite while Krishani moved to the big wooden doors. He wanted to escape into the fresh night air and find a place to be alone. He wasn’t ready to face the truth about what he was. His nightmares had taken on a macabre tone he never thought he’d have to face. He never expected his life to be that nightmare.

  “There are things you must know about being a Ferryman,” Tulsen said before he could leave the hall.

  Krishani turned, pain mushrooming across his chest. His heart felt like a dead weight, heavy and black. Adoron taught him to mind his manners in front of the elders, but Tulsen Tavesin didn’t carry the demeanor of an elder of Avristar. He was human, incapable of manipulating the tides or forging the forests with his mind. The Brotherhood of Amersil wouldn’t have accepted him and Krishani wasn’t ready to accept him as his flesh and blood either. Anger flared up inside of him, a hot searing pain shot through his chest like a thousand flaming arrows. He staggered along the red carpet, his shoulder bumping into a wooden pillar. He put a hand to his shoulder and made eye contact with Tulsen.

  “You mean, how I can die?” Krishani spat. He wanted nothing to do with the stodgy man before him. He reeked of sandalwood and mold; his brown robes clearly hadn’t been washed in weeks. Krishani made a guttural sound to show his disgust. He pulled his black tunic taut.

  Tulsen shot him a bewildered glance. “Nay, you need to know about the Vultures and how to fight them.”

  It was like Tulsen had rammed him with a solid oak tree. He fought to keep his balance, but dread crept into him, making it difficult to see. Tulsen must have been talking about the black thing with the self-contained black storm circling its shapeless body, the thing that seemed a void of the world itself. Tulsen sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. “You’ve already seen the Vultures.”
<
br />   Krishani’s anger reached the boiling point. “Tell me why Davlin died,” he hissed.

  Mallorn groaned and turned away, his gray robes scraping along the ground. Krishani went to say something about Mallorn’s blind trust in Tulsen but stopped.

  “Are you asking because you saw him die? Because you are afraid of your own death?” Tulsen’s tone was acidic. “I can assure you that your death is not your concern.”

  Krishani lowered his infected hand, his shoulder throbbing. He tried to keep the fury in his eyes as Tulsen strode forward, nothing but three feet between them. Krishani met his hazel eyes, noting their flecks of deep brown.

  “There isn’t a way to change it. You will be the Ferryman until your successor gives you passage to the Great Hall. You’re immortal until that happens, unless . . . you become a Vulture.”

  Krishani flinched, the heat that burned through him turned to ice. Shivers ran the length of his spine. He wanted Tulsen to stop staring at him, memorizing his black hair, mismatched eyes and elongated ears. He wasn’t Istar’s champion and he wasn’t Tulsen’s. He was nothing. He tore his eyes from Tulsen’s scrutinizing gaze and found Mallorn. With a sudden pang he realized what the black marks meant.

  The curse was turning him into a Vulture.

  His breath came in short gasps as he fought for sanity. “How long did Davlin wait for me?” he said. Fear circled his heart, its beat ringing in his ears.

  Tulsen choked. Krishani stared at him for a long moment, thousands of years of hard truths written on his ancestor’s face. The Ferrymen weren’t like other creatures. Krishani understood why the kinfolk on Avristar wanted to live forever. He couldn’t fathom how long he would have to do the job. Nineteen years and all he had suffered from were nightmares.

  Tulsen looked at him like he’d broken some unspoken code and should be thankful for the help. He set his lips in a line, and Krishani feared he wouldn’t answer. He couldn’t take the pressure. How long would he have to endure the pain of living? Every breath made him want to claw at his insides.

  Tulsen took a deep breath. “Ten thousand years.”

  Krishani snapped. Anger flashed through his limbs and he moved with alacrity towards the stone pillar. He snatched a torch and slammed it on the ground, flames scorching the carpet, fire rising between him and his wretched ancestor. Ten thousand years without Kaliel, was all he could see, a life of nothingness, a life of tragedy. He ran his hands through his hair and stalked the hall. He was a million miles away, lost in the darkness he sought comfort in. He couldn’t stand the stifling heat in the hall, the night sky beckoning him to its vast emptiness. The pain of losing Kaliel pulsed throughout his entire being, a bitter burning sensation raking over his limbs worse than the disease that was trying to change him.

  “If I take this path I will never see her again,” Krishani said to himself. He turned to see Mallorn reciting an incantation, the flames turning to smoke. Tulsen seemed confused and Mallorn looked ashamed. His eyes blazed at Krishani with nothing but disappointment. He turned to Tulsen and muttered something Krishani couldn’t hear beyond the buzzing in his ears. He put his hands in his hair and grabbed clumps of it. Tulsen turned white as gray smoke rose between them. Krishani flinched, moving backwards, reminded of a thousand dreams of death and thousands of wisps of white smoke. Beyond the smoke Krishani saw Tulsen’s crystallized brown eyes, frozen and unyielding.

  “Being a Ferryman changes you. Even if you found her again, I doubt she would recognize you.” Tulsen’s words weren’t gentle.

  To Krishani the sound was like an avalanche, pressing on his eardrums, pulling him under thick blankets of snow, making him deaf to anything but the roar of the mountain. His heart beat so fast he thought it would explode, each beat sending poison through his veins. His muscles tensed, stiff as rock. He couldn’t listen to anything else Tulsen had to say. He gulped, trying to fill his lungs, but his throat was constricted. Daggers attacked his gut and he wrapped his arms around his torso in an attempt to hold himself together.

  Tulsen watched him with hard eyes.

  Mallorn betrayed Krishani; he told Tulsen about Kaliel. In that faint whisper, he unleashed all of his dark secrets and made a mockery out of his grief. He’d never forget what had happened on Avristar. He’d never let it go. He’d never be the Ferryman Tulsen wanted. It wasn’t like he hadn’t betrayed everyone else for Kaliel already. Losing her was the bittersweet revenge for betraying Avristar. Krishani mustered the strength to stand straight and face Tulsen. The smoke was gone, but the menacing look in both their faces remained.

  “It was a mistake for me to come here,” Krishani said. He turned on his heel and pulled the big doors open. He fled into the village, torch lights illuminating the homes of the common folk. He glanced into the starless sky and hugged his arms to his chest. Tears streaked down his cheeks as he quickened his steps away from the castle, away from everything he was meant for. He wanted none of it. Death for him was impossible. He could wait ten thousand years to see her again, and she wouldn’t know who he was.

  Or he would become a Vulture.

  Somehow the difference between being a monster and being unrecognizable to Kaliel no longer mattered. He fell on his knees and buried his head in his hands, sobs rising from his chest. He hadn’t had a chance to grieve properly. His chest heaved; the heels of his palms digging into his eye sockets, making him see red and orange behind his eyes. There was nothing worse than the feeling of helplessness. It didn’t matter which path he took—she wouldn’t be a part of it. Everything he had done for her, been to her, was gone. He shook as footsteps sounded behind him. He pulled himself to his feet and turned before Tulsen had a chance to reach him. Tulsen stopped in his tracks on the porch, enraged.

  “If you do not follow death, death will follow you.”

  Krishani was immune to the words; nothing more could hurt him. Tulsen had said worse inside the castle. Krishani squeezed his fist and closed his eyes. Rain splattered on the land. It wasn’t quite as powerful as the downpours he caused on Avristar, but the rain gained speed and pelted the ground with stinging cold. Krishani shivered as Mallorn appeared in the doorway. The old man descended the stairs without fear and approached the boy.

  “We can leave in the morning.”

  Krishani stared at him. “I want to find the Flames.”

  Mallorn’s expression turned grave. “You want to what?”

  Krishani steeled himself and set his jaw. “You heard me. Crestaos is still looking for them. I need to find them before he does.”

  “You’re mad!” Mallorn exclaimed. He grasped Krishani’s arm and tried to pull him towards the castle, but Krishani jerked out of his hold and began walking towards the gates.

  “I’ll do it alone, then.”

  “No!” Mallorn caught up and forced him to stop. He sighed. “Sleep here tonight. We will leave in the morning. I will ask Tulsen for provisions.”

  Krishani nodded. He turned back to the castle and watched Tulsen slip inside like a rat into their hole. He noted the obvious cowardice of his ancestor and followed Mallorn. He paused at the top step. “Pux has to come with us. I fear what Tulsen will do to him without my protection.”

  Mallorn nodded. “I agree.”

  They passed the guards as rain fell harder on the land. Krishani took a deep breath, but said nothing as he took a seat next to Pux.

  “You should be sleeping,” Krishani whispered as he slipped in through the small wooden door at the end of the hall. Her room was the same as it had always been, the leather chest off to the left, the bureau on the right, Kaliel lost somewhere underneath white woven blankets. Her hair was a mess of knots against the pillows. She stared at the sliver of a window, her green eyes focused on something else. He let the cloak slide off his back and hung it on the cloak stand in the corner. He removed his boots and sat on the edge of the bed.

  Kaliel glanced at him, her eyes full of questions and mischief. A smile poked at the corners of her lips. “I knew you�
�d come see me again.”

  Krishani coughed. “Atara thinks you passed out from the pain.” He stared at her eyes with concern, trying to force her to see reason. She had feigned sleep since the death of Lotesse, the Emerald Flame, and he was worried about her growing sickly appearance.

  She sighed and looked at the blankets. She pushed herself up and leaned forward, clasping her hands together in her lap. “I can’t sleep. I’m too afraid of what I’ll see.”

  “More dreams of Flames?”

  Kaliel nodded. She averted her eyes like she was unsure if he would listen to her. Krishani noticed her self-consciousness.

  “What did you see?” he asked gently. He knew she was having enough trouble with the knowledge something was out there, something that thirsted for her. It still bothered him she dreamed of death when he thought he was to keep the burden for himself.

  Kaliel looked at him cautiously as he inched closer, sliding his hand between hers. She smiled. “She said her name was Tiki,” she began. There was a loud knock at the door and both of their eyes widened.

  “Kaliel?”

  Krishani smiled; she did warn him that Melianna checked on her often. He sighed and slipped off the bed as she pointed towards the stairs in the ceiling. He pulled the cord, revealing a set of rickety stairs and scrambled up, pulling them up after him. They folded neatly, making the floor seem flat.

  Krishani huddled in the tower, waiting for Melianna to leave. He heard the scrape of a tea tray on the bureau, followed by Melianna humming to herself. He tried to control his breathing, but it was colder than he anticipated and he shivered. He tried not to move around too much in case she heard his bumbling. Her light footsteps rounded the bed and rubbed Kaliel’s brow with the cloth. He imagined Kaliel looking pristinely lost in her own little world. Melianna sighed. Her footsteps pattered across the floor again. She pulled open a drawer. Krishani smelled incense. He held his breath, wondering why Melianna wasn’t moving. It took a moment, but her feet slid across the floor, the door opened and shut behind her.