JUSTICE (The Ferryman + The Flame #2)

by Paille, Rhiannon

“They want you gone before nightfall.” Kuruny choked.

  Krishani looked at her, but Kuruny couldn’t stop staring at him like he was a disease. He glanced at Shimma, a pleading expression on his face.

  “Give him another day. He isn’t strong enough,” Shimma said.

  Kuruny grumbled something unintelligible and stumbled away from the hut. Shimma moved to her feet and went to follow her. She stopped at the doorway and looked at Krishani. She scrunched up her nose.

  “Don’t . . . leave the hut. I may not know much, but I know what they have in the cave isn’t a good thing. It isn’t something you can take.” She tucked her head to the ground and followed her sister.

  Dark figures moved through the fields with precision and grace. The four of them stretched across the land like an impenetrable wall of riders against thousands. Hooves hit the ground, leaving marks with spiked horseshoes. Nostrils flared, smoke billowing out, rising into the sky. They hit the trees and forged a path of ashes through it, trees catching fire. The riders had no souls; they were remorseless creatures traipsing through unconsecrated lands, destroying everything they came into contact with. Their faces were covered in darkness, hidden beneath long flowing cloaks draped over the backs of the giant beasts. Their hands were covered with shiny armor concealing their flesh. One of them gripped the reins and made a sharp right. The others followed in succession as they found the east shore. There were thriving lands across the channel. The riders wanted to bring nightmares to their children, burn their houses, hear the cries of women as they devoured the towns in haste.

  Their minds were full of nothing but blind hatred and hunger for blood. There was no sense in reasoning with them. Death came swiftly by their hands, and when it came, so did the Vultures, and when they came, the souls were silenced.

  The Horsemen thrived on silence.

  It was far better than the screeching noises filling their ears. No matter how far they traveled, it wouldn’t stop. The constant agonizing sounds followed them, and when the souls were devoured, the screeching ceased. It remained quiet until the beating hearts of souls in the distance caused it to start again.

  And then they hunted them.

  To silence them.

  Their horses were beast-like, with sharp teeth, red eyes, scales. Their armor covered what little bristles of prickly hair they had. Their hooves were covered with sharp spikes. They breathed fire. Only their riders could control them, because there were no words for what these beasts were.

  Krishani watched in horror as they hit the shores and led the beasts into the foamy waters of the ocean. He watched until their forms disappeared under the waves, and shuddered as one of them turned back and glanced at him. Krishani averted his gaze and saw a little girl. She had beautiful midnight black hair that fell to her ankles. Her skin tinged blue, her lips bruised purple. She had coal colored eyes, full of hatred. But she was under four feet fall. A pale blue nightgown fell to her bare feet. She pointed at the sand and he followed her gaze. Blood lapped up against the shore, covering his boots in a thick red paste.

  The sight of the blood made him jolt. He wrenched out of the cot, a fierce ringing in his ears. He clenched his fists to the sides of his head and tried to quiet his urge to scream. He was alone in the hut, on the west shores of an island on Terra. He closed his eyes, but the image of the girl clouded his vision, a little girl, one that called the Horsemen to do her bidding.

  She was one of the Valtanyana.

  23

  Hopeless

  Krishani rubbed his eyes and waited for the ringing in his ears to die down. Every time he squeezed his eyes shut, the Horsemen turned and looked at him. The little girl with her full black eyes pointed at him. He shuddered. Fear knotted his stomach. The hut had been dark since Shimma left. She hadn’t bothered to return and he was too afraid to face the villagers.

  Someone pounded the thick cloth door and Krishani jumped. Nobody came in, but he moved from the bed and carefully pulled away the cloth. A bowl of steaming food sat in the sand. He pulled it inside. As he sat there half drinking, half scooping the stew into his mouth, he spotted a soft glow emanating from the knapsack against the wall. Krishani set the bowl down and moved to the bags. He lifted the lid, light exploding into the room. He shielded his eyes and Tiki immediately dimmed. He pulled the lantern out of the knapsack and sat it on the bed.

  “Are you going to take the Flame?” Tiki asked.

  Krishani sighed. He was going to slip out of the cabin and avoid the eyes of the villagers as he explored the cave, but what Shimma said before stuck with him. “Shimma . . .”

  Tiki dimmed. “I tried to ask the Flame why she came here.”

  “You can talk to her?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what was her answer?”

  “Silence. I sense . . .” Tiki faded to the familiar rusty orange and he pushed himself onto the bed. He looked at the ceiling of the hut and waited.

  “Hopeless. Laurelin is hopeless.”

  So this Flame had a name, too. It was probably within a body. He stared at the glowing light, his mind full of questions. “Shimma said something is wrong with her.”

  “She shouldn’t be here. She was from Sallas.”

  Krishani frowned. He only knew the names of the seven Lands of Men. He hadn’t memorized the names of the lands in Avrigard and Avristyr. Sallas sounded like somewhere far away and mystical. Chills ran up his spine at the thought of finding her in the cave. Beholding another Flame in a body made him afraid. “Should I go to her?”

  “I think they’re right.”

  “Where are the others?”

  “He has them. Four of them.”

  Krishani took a sharp breath. The number seemed high. If Kaliel was the fifth and Tiki was the sixth, then Laurelin was the seventh, and it left only two other lights Tiki could see. “I don’t think I want to know.”

  “I thought it might help.”

  “How?”

  “For when you try to rescue them?”

  Krishani laughed. For the first time in days he found something amusing. He stopped. Tiki was quiet; she was serious. He averted his eyes. “I can’t rescue a soul once a Vulture has taken it.” He repeated Tulsen’s words because Crestaos couldn’t be worse than a Vulture, and the Flames were no more than souls within his grasp.

  “You won’t find a way to get them back?” she asked.

  Krishani raked a hand through his hair. He never meant to keep them in the first place. He only meant to save them from the torture the Valtanyana would inflict on them. He realized it was another of those things he didn’t want Tiki to know, but he didn’t have another way to explain. “I never sought to possess the Flames. And I wasn’t there to kill Osvanir.”

  Tiki dimmed. Krishani felt guilty.

  “I expected a girl.” He shook his head. “Not like Kaliel . . . but a girl.”

  “You came . . . to kill me?” Tiki’s words fell slowly. They stung the air.

  Krishani stood, pacing the length of the hut. “We hid Kaliel in the forest. The shee were supposed to protect her, Mallorn promised. Crestaos found her anyway.” He crossed his arms, pushing them into his ribs. It hurt to remember. He wanted to shove the words back into his mouth because Tiki wasn’t shining at all. He picked up the lantern. “Death was her only escape. I came to protect the others.”

  “By killing them.” A faint flash of orange erupted from the lantern.

  Krishani gulped. Becoming the enemy wasn’t the answer to defeating the enemy. He put Tiki on the floor and stretched out on the cot. Silence ensued, nothing but lost squalls of wind rattling the tent. He closed his eyes and he was in the forests of Avristar again. He was being thrown from Umber, hitting the ground, screaming out her name . . . being devoured by darkness. He shouldn’t have left her side. She shouldn’t have faced Crestaos alone.

  Tiki went dark, leaving him in pitch black night.

  “I didn’t kill you,” he muttered.

  Tiki had nothing to say. />
  Krishani gasped, spluttered, fighting to sit up. He grabbed his heart, poison dissolving it, turning it into liquid mush. Spasms rippled across his muscles as the barrier Tiki created broke. Emotions spilled out, knifing through him. He rolled onto his side and crunched his legs to his chest, shaking from the intensity of the pain. He couldn’t feel it before, but he felt it now. The disease that infected his entire arm with blackness throbbed. Tendrils of the disease curled around his shoulder and crawled down his torso. It stretched across his chest and stung his heart. He gaped; tendrils laced with tiny spikes burrowed into his heart.

  He clutched his chest, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. He writhed, fingernails digging into his tunic. Balancing on his elbows, he ripped it off, fingers splaying across his chest. He let out a growl and fell on his back. Heels dug into the cot, his shoulder blades pressed down, his neck muscles tight. Sweat trickled down his forehead, fingernails dug deeper into his flesh. He stopped breathing, his eyes widening as realization hit him. The disease was doing this to him, first his skin, then his blood, then his bones. It was etching through him and he was powerless to stop it.

  Helpless without Tiki.

  He reached for the lantern and knocked it over. He let out a growl and tried again, this time catching it by the handle. He pulled it towards him, barely able to find his tongue.

  Make it stop, he thought. He fixed his eyes on the boxy chamber. Nothing happened at first, but then it lit up like a bonfire, light exploding off it so strong and bright he fell back onto the cot.

  “Your eyes show remorse.” Tiki sighed.

  Waves of comfort washed over Krishani as she replaced the barrier she had originally created. He coughed, choked, fought against the last remaining wisps of pain as it dwindled to a dull thud in the back of his mind. He took a long breath and let it out slowly.

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m sorry,” Tiki said.

  Krishani put the lantern next to him. His muscles twitched, everything was numb again, a welcomed feeling. He couldn’t withstand the pain if that’s how intense it had become since Tiki began helping him. “Is it really that bad?”

  “It’s worse.”

  Krishani groaned. He couldn’t talk about it anymore. There wasn’t much time before the disease took him completely and he had to find the Flames. “Where are they?”

  Tiki paused, her light growing dimmer. “The Azurite Flame is on Nimphalls, and the Obsidian Flame is on Amaltheia.”

  “How do I get there?”

  “You can’t open vortexes.”

  Krishani sighed and stood. His muscles were stiff. He rubbed his brow, paced back and forth for a while until he stopped and hung his head. “I might need to ask Mallorn for help.”

  “Where is Mallorn?”

  He groaned. He didn’t want to go back there, but he didn’t have a choice.

  “With Tulsen.”

  24

  The Citrine Flame

  A deafening scream rang out. Shimma feigned interest as the Flame struggled against the weight of the shaman, but Rand forced her to her knees. Shimma looked at her sand covered dress and heaved a sigh. Rand bound her hands behind her back and shoved a piece of cloth in her mouth. He tied it around her neck.

  The bonfire blazed, the cove an eerie quiet other than the girl’s whimpering shrieks. Threads of blonde hair fell around her face as tears streaked her splotchy red cheeks. Rand held his hands to the sky and glanced at Shimma and her sisters. He was a wall—thick-chested, wide-armed, and short. Graying hairs moved in the wind, his wrinkled face a mask of disgust. Shimma bowed her head. Kuruny and Kazza followed suit. Kuruny held a raven’s feather; Shimma, a bowl of water; and Kazza, a smoking sage. Around them, distinguished members of the village stood, each of them silent, each of them ignoring the cries of the girl.

  Rand thrust the girl to the fire and stepped into his place amidst the circle. He raised his hands to the tall bonfire and shouted at the cloudy sky. The sisters broke out of the circle, silently closing the distance between themselves and the girl. Shimma whispered words under her breath as she watched her sisters do the same. Ritual work between them was always like this: serious, silent. Shimma’s limbs buzzed, proof the energy weaving worked.

  The girl wriggled and cast her murky yellow eyes at Shimma as she passed. They were flecked with specks of black. Shimma stole a careful glance at her sisters as they approached. Kuruny dipped the feather into the heady water and knelt down in front of the girl while Kazza created a smaller circle around her, waving a burning sage bushell. Shimma held the bowl and waited as Kuruny covered the girl in sticky liquid.

  Rand began chanting in a low tone. The fire sizzled and cracked as they raised the energy necessary to cleanse the demon from the girl.

  She was a Flame after all.

  Not only that, but she was the Flame of Hope. The villagers believed in her.

  Kuruny bent down and faced the girl. She was still in a rage, the thing inside of her festering, keeping her locked inside herself. Shimma watched her older sister, the most adept of the three at magic. She had seen Kuruny do worse things on Nimphalls in the name of magic; this was tame in comparison. Shimma stayed quiet while Kuruny carefully pulled the gag out of her mouth and the girl chanted things in her own language.

  Her words slurred together like whispers until Kuruny pulled the black stone out of the water and placed it on the girl’s tongue. Shimma stepped back as the girl’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. She fell on the sand convulsing, the energy in the stone ripping the demon from her insides. Rand and the others began stomping, raising enough energy to bring back the essence of the Flame, the thing lost beneath the demonic energy forcing her to mutter idle curses.

  Shimma fixed her eyes on the girl. Pity filled her heart as she continued chanting under her breath. There was a crack that sounded like lightning, but it came from the other side of the bonfire. Shimma looked up as one of Rand’s men was shoved into the fire. Her eyes widened as the circle broke and an all out attack began. Shadowy creatures descended on the cove in silent terror, shrieks ringing out, metal clanging, fire blazing as the bonfire protested. The Daed, she realized. They fought with a swiftness and courage no other human fought with, their blades singeing hairs on the backs of the villagers’ necks. They fatally wounded two of Rand’s men before the entire battalion of villagers kicked up weapons hidden in the sand and fought back.

  Shimma found herself frozen on the other side of the bonfire. She watched the men as they scuffled, paying attention to their muffled cries for help. The Daed seem to gracefully glide and dart around the men. She closed her eyes and whispered an incantation of protection. Glancing around, Kuruny and Kazza were gone. She turned and turned and spotted Kazza at the edge of the cave, the girl in hand, plotting to disappear into the cave.

  So they could try the ritual again.

  She bit her lip, her vision so blurred she picked up the sage and waved it front of her. Smoke billowed out from the edges of it, but nothing felt clean. She felt hopeless. First Krishani and now the enemies.

  Krishani.

  This was his fault.

  She pulled the folds of her blue gown off the sand and darted behind the line of huts covering the shore, making the village look small. Krishani was safely tucked away in the crevasse beside the overhanging cliff in a long tunnel-like crack wide enough for huts to scatter alongside it. Their people lived far into the underground crack between the soil and it always kept them safe. Shimma skipped through the mud unseen. As she ran she wondered why she never heeded the warnings, why she insisted on helping the humans on Nimphalls when all they did was fight. None of them would ever accept the other side for what they were.

  She hiked up her dress, keeping her eyes to the ground until she heard voices. Shimma darted behind a sand dune and peeked over it only to see Kuruny smack square into Krishani. Her sister fell on the ground and cursed, an alarmed voice rising above her wail.

  “What’s goin
g on?” he asked.

  Kuruny stood and dusted herself off, shooting a deadly look in Krishani’s direction.

  “None of your business,” she spat.

  Shimma was going to find him, but only to tell him whatever he was, he was attracting attention. There was a full-out battle on the beach.

  “I heard shrieking, and—” Krishani cut off. Shimma saw his jaw tense as his eyes widened. He pulled his hand into a fist as he set cold eyes on Kuruny. Shimma was pained. She had seen that look before and she never wanted him to set it on her. “The enemies are here. Is it the Horsemen or the Daed?” He sounded anxious.

  Kuruny kicked the ground, tossing sand in his direction. She spun on her heel and stalked towards the beach. “You were handy with a sword in Avristar.”

  Shimma watched as Krishani ambled past the civilian huts. She felt the villagers’ fear. Krishani was taller than any of them; his elongated ears, angled chin and ghostly white skin made him hard to ignore. They were no longer afraid of the fact he had a white horse. They were afraid because he wasn’t human. Krishani passed the sand dune and Shimma ducked away, heading towards the beach.

  Kuruny said nothing as they neared the beach. Krishani heard the sounds of the fray, and the sadness in his heart deepened. An older man broke away from the panic and ran to Kuruny. He was panting. He stole a glance at the boy and his eyes dug into Kuruny.

  “I told you.”

  Kuruny held her head high and thrust Krishani towards the elder. “Rand, he can fight.”

  Krishani ignored Rand. He looked past the huts, past the bonfire on the beach. He saw something that made prickles of ice crawl up his arms.

  It was them.

  The ones who led the black-skinned creatures to Avristar, the ones who petitioned Lord Istar for the Flame. It was them. The Daed, the minions of the Valtanyana that forced Kaliel to the top of the mountain. Krishani brushed his fingers against the hilt of the sword at his waist and all at once he took hold of the blade and moved fearlessly down to the beach, keeping his eyes locked on the shadowy creature batting off the villagers like swine.