JUSTICE (The Ferryman + The Flame #2)

by Paille, Rhiannon

  “We need to find another path!” Krishani shouted as he pulled through the forest and descended into the thicker brush. He fought through the vegetation and gaps in the trees. Krishani hoped Mallorn was behind him.

  “Why?” Mallorn shouted.

  Krishani shook his head as he fled down the incline, hoping for a path into the mountains. He couldn’t face the Daed. They were far too powerful for him to defeat. They brought Avristar to her knees and forced Kaliel to the top of Avred. They took away everything he ever loved about life and ruined his very existence. Worst of all, they were hunting the Flames.

  “We have no time!” he called. The Daed were following him, slinking through the forest, loathing his existence, longing to rip it from him. If there was a worse way to die it was by their hand. The trees twisted into clusters and fell away at intervals, like the land was checkered with healthy and unhealthy soil. Krishani wound the horse around the trees. He heard rushing water. When he broke through, the familiar outline of Gott’s river met him.

  “Cross the river!” he shouted.

  Mallorn caught up, out of breath. “Are you insane?”

  Krishani hopped off the horse and jumped into the water. It circled around his knees and he turned back to Mallorn. “It’s not deep,” he said. His heart pounded wildly in his chest as he pulled the horse across the water and up a steep incline on the other side. He looked upstream at the mountains in the distance. “There has to be a way,” he muttered as he climbed the grassy path.

  Krishani watched as Mallorn slung Pux overtop of the horse and crossed the river. Blood leaked onto the feorn’s clothes, staining them crimson from the deep gash in his back. It was worse than it seemed. When they reached the top of the hill, Mallorn stopped and doubled over, trying to catch his breath.

  Krishani turned and turned in circles, looking for signs the enemies had followed them, but it was quiet. Nothing but the wind rustled the trees. He sat and pulled his knees to his forehead.

  “Help me,” Mallorn snapped as he lifted Pux off the horse. Krishani crossed the distance between them and took Pux by the legs. Mallorn grabbed him under the armpits and dragged him off the horse. “Put him on his side.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “One of the Horsemen sliced his back open,” Mallorn said in a low tone, like that should explain the severity of the situation.

  Krishani watched as he moved the feorn’s clothing out of the way and tried to assess the damage. Mallorn touched the wound with his fingers and winced. Krishani tried to see what he was looking at. Dirt and leaves mixed into the sticky red gash. Mallorn sighed. Krishani recoiled, his eyes wide.

  The elder went to the horses, searching through the packs. “I need you to make fire, and get water.”

  Krishani blinked and then launched into action. There were fewer rocks to contain the fire and so it was smaller, but it created enough light so Mallorn could better inspect the wound. Krishani steeled himself as he went down to the river, afraid he would catch sight of the Daed, or the Horsemen. As he neared the river he listened for sounds of them, but the land was quiet. The water softly ran over the silvery rocks creating a deceiving calm. He dunked the decanter into the river and let it fill before going back, his legs shaking, his body weakened by the attack.

  Mallorn was still tending to the wound when Krishani returned. “Are we out of danger?”

  Krishani nodded. “Aye.”

  “He’s hurt pretty bad,” Mallorn said.

  “I saw it happen.” He sat on the grass and pushed his back into it, needing a moment to gather himself. He pictured the glint of silver that had rounded the corner and tried to put an image in his mind of the Horsemen. They didn’t belong to the Daed; something else had brought them. He pushed himself onto his elbows and glanced at Mallorn. He went to say something, but he couldn’t get it out quickly enough.

  “Their blades are coated with poison. He’s lucky to be alive.” Mallorn sniffed the wound and scrunched his nose up in disgust.

  “He’s also lucky to be sleeping while you do that.” Krishani closed his eyes and tried to forget the fact there were more enemies on Terra than he ever imagined. He tried to forget they were stronger than him and, worse yet, the Horsemen were probably beasts summoned by another member of the Valtanyana. He sighed loudly and threw an arm over his eyes. “Perhaps you should take him back to Tulsen.”

  “And leave you alone?” Mallorn snapped.

  Krishani wobbled his head back and forth. He groaned. “The Ferryman never had comrades.”

  “Well, you need a guardian,” Mallorn said. “After that business with the Vulture . . .” The old man scowled.

  Krishani grumbled to himself and sat up. “I saw them, the cloaked beings that ravaged Avristar. They’re here.”

  Mallorn went white. He averted his gaze and continued wiping up the blood, the rag soaked through. Krishani watched him. The elder moved to the horses, returning with a clean rag and ointment. He watched as Mallorn meticulously cleaned the gash.

  Krishani didn’t want to talk about the Daed. They were a rumor before they struck Avristar. He hadn’t seen them in dreams before. Lore said they were the remaining supporters of the Valtanyana, but it also said they weren’t very powerful. If they had awakened Crestaos, there was no telling how much their power had grown. He was right to flee, but what if they found him again?

  “The Daed,” Mallorn said. “There’s a wrap in the other bag there.” He pointed at it while rubbing some of the ointment onto Pux’s back.

  Krishani got up and grabbed the wrap out of the bag and handed it to him. He wasn’t fond of telling the elder what he had seen, but if it prevented him from asking questions about what he’d been trying to do with the Vulture, then it was for the best. He couldn’t tell Mallorn if there was a way to ensure his non existence he would take it.

  “You need sleep,” Mallorn said as Krishani sat beside Pux. The feorn’s breathing was shallow, but he seemed comfortable. “I will stand guard.”

  Krishani only nodded before rolling onto his back and letting another dreamless sleep take him.

  18

  The Cabin by the Lake

  Krishani had slept less than an hour when he was startled awake by a cold wind rippling through the trees. He sat and glanced at Mallorn, expecting him to be awake. The elder slumped beside the feorn with his head on his arms and snored. Krishani rubbed his eyes. Stars in different shapes and patterns lit up the sky. It paled in comparison to the brilliance of Avristar’s skies. He sighed and looked at Pux. The feorn was lost in a sleep that resembled the dead. Traveling would be dangerous for both of them. He was uncertain why they had accompanied him thus far; it wasn’t like Mallorn agreed with his decision to turn away from his duty as the Ferryman. The elder had been mild, but gruff. Krishani worried the longer he stayed the worse his chances were of escaping his birthright. Mallorn would expect him to perform the task when faced with it. What would the old man think when he refused?

  Krishani tiptoed towards the horses resting against the trees. He patted one on the neck and turned to Pux. He wanted to say goodbye, even if the animal wouldn’t hear it. He crossed the distance between them and knelt over him. In the fading light the feorn looked small and scrawny, his face streaked with lines of worry, his arms curled against his chest. He might have been a Child of Avristar, but he wasn’t a warrior or even a nomad. Of the two of them he was the one meant to stay behind. It was a shame his natural talents didn’t work on Terra. It was like everything mystical about him had been drained away by the languid state of the land.

  “She wouldn’t want you to come with me,” Krishani said. “She wouldn’t want me here either, but she wouldn’t forgive me if . . .” He paused and thought about his words even if they were cutting. “All I can promise you is death. And you weren’t meant for that.” He stood and clenched his fist, unable to hide the pain in his expression. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, but he forced them away with false strength. He mounte
d his horse. Without half of their provisions, Mallorn and Pux would have no choice but to return to Castle Tavesin. Krishani felt both relieved and afraid they wouldn’t follow him.

  No one would know the fate of the Ferryman.

  He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and fled through the thin sunken vein of a path through the trees and descended into a field of boulders. The horse tripped over itself more than it usually did. Krishani shifted his weight as the horse tarried down the path, mindful of potential cliffs. He grunted in the hopes the animal would find some intelligence, but it continued to amble like it was injured.

  Daylight was hours away and Krishani yawned. He wanted to sleep, but he knew he needed to be a safe distance away from Mallorn and Pux. Heaviness rested in his chest; the path curled towards the mountains. He occasionally glanced to the left, to the path across the river where the Daed had been seen. He shivered each time he looked at the upper path. It was a straight, wide path leading through the mountains with ease. His path was treacherous and rocky, winding footfalls and surprises, but anything seemed better than the path carrying the vile creatures that tried to take his life once already.

  He let the horse press on at an incompetent speed. When he opened his eyes his heart raced. They found a shallow lake in a cove against the mountains. This wasn’t the field Kaliel had mentioned. Krishani grimaced. There was a cabin tucked between the sheets of rock that seemed too slippery and smooth to climb. The horse reached flat ground and lurched forward, but he pulled the reins tight, holding it back. The horse whinnied in protest. He allowed it to trot across the muddy grasses towards the shore. The horse dipped its head into the water. He eyed the cabin with a spurious frown.

  Slipping off the horse, he led it around to the other side of the lake where it continued to lap up water like it had been parched for days. Krishani continued to stare at the oddly-shaped A-frame cabin. It was very small: three stairs led to the door, windows on either side of the stairs. It was dark inside. Krishani walked towards the cabin and looked into the window. He was hoping to find out if the cabin was empty. At first there was nothing, but then a faint glow of something orange flickered from inside. His heart did a double take.

  The Flame.

  He took the steps and pushed the door open. It creaked as he slid one foot across the wooden planks and searched for the orange light. There was little of anything in the cabin: a small nightstand, a bed, a rocking chair to the left. A fireplace sat in the corner on the right, but there wasn’t a fire. What got his attention was the lantern on the nightstand. Within it a small orange light sparked every few seconds. It looked like it was breathing, in and out, dimmer then brighter, in even successions. Krishani gaped at it and forgot to protect himself. He took a loud step, putting his hand on the lantern.

  Everything happened too fast. Krishani felt an arm around his neck, pulling him away from the lantern. It tightened around his throat and he gasped for air as he pushed the man against the wall. They slammed against the rocking chair, knocking it aside as they scuffled. Krishani pulled at the man’s arm and something pierced his torso, cutting into flesh under his ribs. He let out a howl and went limp. The man thrust him away and he fell on his hands and knees. He scrambled to his feet and faced the man.

  “Who are you and what do you want?” the man demanded.

  Krishani frowned; it was no language he had heard before. He glanced to his right, the orange light bright and alert. He went to grab it, but the man was fast. His arm crashed down on Krishani’s, forcing him to pull back. He wasn’t sure about the wound on his side; it hurt, but he didn’t know how bad it was. Before he could assess the damage the man shoved him against the other wall and tried to stab him again. Krishani kicked the man’s shins and pushed, forcing the man to scramble backwards. Krishani grimaced. He expected the cabin to be empty and had forgotten all about Kaliel telling him the Flame was a prisoner. The man crouched, his black hair and dark eyes glistening in the light of the Flame. His skin was a deep brown. The man licked his lips like a carnivore sizing up its prey and thrust himself at Krishani again. Krishani grabbed his sword and went to pull it out, but the man locked his arm across his chest and pinned him against the wall.

  “You won’t steal it that easily,” the man said, snarling. Krishani pulled his left arm out from behind his back and punched the man square in the jaw. It made his hand sting, but the man staggered back, rubbing his cheek. Krishani pulled his sword out and grabbed the lantern. The man was still disoriented. Krishani almost descended the stairs. As he reached the door the man grabbed his legs. Krishani crashed to the floor, his sword and the lantern clambering down the steps. Feet crunched his spine as the man stepped over him to retrieve the lost items. As the man’s foot landed on the place between Krishani’s shoulders, the boy twisted around and grabbed his leg. The man slammed into the stairs and Krishani heard a loud crack. He scrambled to his feet and carefully stepped around the man. He was still, his body half on the stairs and half on the sandy mud lining the lake.

  Krishani picked up the sword and lantern. He went to check for a sign the man was still alive. A jagged splinter jutted out of the man’s neck. Krishani recoiled. He bent over him, listening to his shallow breaths. Panicking, he threw his sword into the scabbard and moved towards the horse. It had its head buried in the water. Krishani quickly tucked the lantern into the folds of the knapsacks and turned to the man.

  A dark pool of blood seeped under his cheek. Krishani gulped as he approached, his expression mangled with remorse. He grabbed the man by the shoulders and pulled him off of the wooden spike. It made a thick, slurping sound as the spike dragged through the tender flesh. The man gasped and shook as Krishani dragged him onto the beach. The man glanced into his eyes and seemed to know it was the end.

  Krishani cursed as his stomach heaved in fits. The familiar nausea set in as he took the man’s hand and waited. He tried to pretend he wasn’t there. The horse neighed and Krishani realized he forgot to tie it up. He couldn’t lose the Flame if things got nasty and the horse decided to run off. He opened his eyes enough to see the horse’s hooves. He scrambled over to it and tried to avoid the blackness growing in the sky. Vultures approached from over the tops of the mountains, from the forests, from the sky. He pulled the reins taut, but the horse froze. Krishani watched in horror as the Vultures swept around the man in successions, threatening to take him the moment his soul left the body. Krishani dropped his hand to his side where he felt sticky blood oozing from the stab wound.

  It is your time now.

  In his mind’s eye he saw the dark brown eyes of Davlin Tavesin staring at him. He wanted to scream at the Vultures, but it wouldn’t help. Instead, he growled at the horse and forced it to move towards the cabin. He hastily tied the reins to the porch rail and turned.

  The Vultures swarmed, waiting for the man to die. Krishani stifled the frostbite that wound up his arms and around his neck as he approached the man. He passed through the hoard of Vultures, prickly cold creeping up his spine. It made the back of his neck feel like it was being stabbed by thousands of tiny needles. He knelt over the man, wincing at the pain. His shoulder throbbed, the disease twisting around his armpit and trailing down his torso. He gulped. The Vultures begged him with silent whispers to give in, let them devour the soul, let them devour him. He fought back the grief washing over him. He was the reason the man was dying, he was guilty. Davlin never saved anyone, but he never killed anyone either. He wouldn’t feel remorse if he became a Vulture. Mallorn wasn’t here to stop him. He could do it. He pressed his tongue to his palette to stifle a cry as the biting cold hit his thighs and sent shockwaves of ice through him. If he let them win, the Valtanyana would win. What about the Flames? What would the Lands Across the Stars become if the Valtanyana had all of them? If they had Kaliel? Krishani sucked in a breath even though he was ready to pass out. He leaned closer to the man.

  “Amenally nawva callen armalta,” he whispered into the man’s ear. The body jerked, hi
s chest rising, his mouth open as he let out an audible cry. It was somewhere between a gasp and a whine. Krishani watched tremors rock the body, furiously forcing the soul to escape. It was over. Wispy smoke rose into the sky as frostbite licked at his insides, turning them to solid briquettes. The force of the Vultures knocked Krishani away. He fell back in the sand, lacerations whipping his stomach.

  The boy sprawled out on the beach, incapacitated, watching white smoke rise into the air. The Vultures went after it, but there was an invisible barrier, one they couldn’t penetrate. Krishani traced the patterns of the smoke as it pressed against the night sky. He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them, the soul was gone, the Vultures fading away.

  He heard his rapid, panicked breaths as he lay on the beach shaking. The effects of the frostbite wore off, his insides melting into fire as they thawed. He cringed as the pain encompassed him, tears escaping the corners of his eyes. He never meant to kill the man. His eyelids slipped shut as the last of his energy fell, leaving him in nothing but darkness.

  The sun was too bright. It made Krishani’s eyes burn, red and yellow splotches roaming beneath the thin lids. He moaned, and fought for consciousness. His limbs felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. When he tried to lift himself off the sand it felt like he was lifting a horse. He managed to pull himself up and everything spun. He fell back into the muddy sand and squeezed his eyes shut. So that was what the Vultures did when someone was dying. They swarmed like locusts, blotting out the sky, covering their prey in darkness. He stomach flip-flopped as fear hit him. He never wanted any of this ugly life, fighting against things he knew nothing about. More than ever he understood Kuruny’s words and the reasons why she was adamant he would die in the Lands of Men. The danger was incessant, the realm dead on the inside because of the treachery of its inhabitants. Terra would never be a peaceful realm; it would always be plagued by thieves and killers. The Vultures would exist until the end of time. Ten thousand years would pass and it wouldn’t matter. Terra would always need a Ferryman.