A barefoot man in long black pants and a white tunic sat on the settee across from Shimma. Two cups of tea rested on the table between them. A servant swept in and another cup appeared. Shimma shifted over on the settee and allowed Krishani to sit. The man in black smiled. “I haven’t been to Avristar in a long time.”
Krishani stared at the tea. He closed his eyes. All he could hear were explosions and all he could see in front of him were thick white pellets of snow. That life was so far behind him it was almost a dream. “This is Krishani,” Shimma said. She sounded uncomfortable.
“I’m Havelir.”
Krishani opened his eyes, but said nothing. Havelir glanced at Shimma with a questioning expression.
“We have come only for your help,” she said.
Havelir nodded. “King Telper has been busy in these lands. The thieves have been rankling and we are becoming increasingly worried.” He took a sip of tea and glanced at Krishani. “Amaltheia was in peace.”
“So was Avristar,” Krishani whispered.
Havelir set his tea down. His face was a mix of concern and abashment. He sported a small black beard, his dark oily hair slicked back. His face was smooth and white, and if it wasn’t for the pointed ears, he would have looked mostly human. His eyes were gray storms of indecision, nearly shifting moment to moment.
“I need to find the Flames,” Krishani said. His voice was raspy and rough, barely recognizable.
“And for what grave purpose do you seek them?” Havelir asked, his tone registering shock.
Shimma gulped. “Please, Havelir, we know the Obsidian Flame is here.” She fixed her gaze on him.
Havelir met her stricken eyes. Krishani looked at Shimma. She had bruises under her eyes and her face was pale and tired. Krishani felt like the same melancholy had sunken into his cheekbones. His entire face contorted in grief.
“What danger has come?” Havelir snapped. There was only a hint of alarm and the servant stepped forward but Havelir waved him away.
“The Valtanyana,” Shimma whispered.
“Balk!” Havelir ran a hand through his hair. Nervously glancing around, he stood, pulling the veneer taut around the platform, and sat down again. “My apologies. King Telper has been more than careful. I stay to my business and he stays to the affairs of his kingdom. We don’t speak of outside places nor we do we teach the people about The Lands Across the Stars.”
Krishani was speechless. All his life he had known about the Lands of Men, the places he would have to travel to as an ambassador. Originally that was as a member of the Brotherhood of Amersil, but now . . . he didn’t want to think about what he was now or what he was doing. Living a sheltered life without the knowledge of the vast ends of the stars seemed dismal, especially with the gray. It made longing for Avristar, its lush green grasses and smell of apple blossoms deeper than ever.
“Avristar was attacked,” Krishani said, monotone.
Havelir dropped his tea. The cup shattered into pieces at his feet. Tea seeped between his toes, a grayish bruise forming on his white skin. “Attacked!” His eyes found Krishani as a servant swept in, handing him a white cloth napkin. He laid it on his foot. “You mean to tell me it’s ruined?”
Krishani nodded.
“And so you left?”
“I fled,” Shimma said.
“And you need my help?”
“I need the Flames,” Krishani said, agitation building in his limbs. He was seconds away from collapsing, vertigo clouding his vision. He swayed on the balls of his feet, fighting to keep his balance.
Havelir nodded. “Klavotesi has gone with Ambrose. They’re in the sands looking for the thieves’ hideaway.”
Krishani’s heart thudded like a dead weight in his chest. More danger, more death, and . . . Ambrose. He did know that name. “You mean the Flame is with a Ferryman?” It was unfathomable. It was so dangerous for their kind to begin with, why would this one willingly put themselves in danger?
Havelir chuckled. “Klavotesi can take care of himself.”
A male Flame. That was different. Krishani glanced at the ceiling. The veneer crawled into a center point at the very top of the tent. He rubbed his hands along his breeches and closed his eyes. “I don’t have time.”
Havelir stood. “I can show you the way to the sands, but I won’t enter them.” He pulled back the veneer and motioned for Krishani and Shimma to leave. Tyr hadn’t moved from where Krishani had left him, the guard still holding onto his reins. He gave the guard a stern look and took the horse from him as Shimma followed Havelir around the large tent and to the backside of the compound. Havelir was still barefoot. They passed through a narrow passageway and continued to where the homes of the villagers stretched out for acres. Beyond the houses was another gate and thick pointed trees jutting out of the ground. Havelir escorted them to the gates, opening them only as much as was needed. Krishani gasped. The land was a black and white desert. Bushels of sage dotted the stark landscape. Krishani found the horizon. It rose and fell along the artificial gray sky, outlining shimmering mounds of sand dunes.
Havelir shook his head. “The treasure in those mounds belongs to King Telper. It isn’t easy to find. Ambrose has been trying to discourage their search for weeks, but they continue to evade him.”
“And Klavotesi?”
Havelir scoffed. “Kla has been on Amaltheia for as long as I can remember. You’ll have to deal with him as you see fit.”
Krishani mounted Tyr and glanced at Shimma. She gave him a wry look as he extended his hand. She mounted, and Krishani didn’t feel her warmth against him. She kept her hands to herself, her body separate from his. He was grateful for her respectful distance.
“Thank you,” she said to Havelir. Krishani kicked Tyr and the horse jolted into a gallop.
28
The Sands
They hit the sands in no time. Mounds striped in shades of gray, thick crystal-like grains surrounded them. Krishani pulled Tyr to the crest of a mound and gazed at the oddly-formed dunes. Some were like crumbling sandcastles, while the rest bellied in peaks and valleys curling around each other. None of the mounds were very tall, but they created space for a curious game of cat and mouse.
Krishani descended the mound, winding along the solid ground between dunes. He twisted, zigged, zagged and got lost in the mess of it. All he wanted was to find the Flame and go back to Terra. He’d face Crestaos. He’d lose, but it was all he had left. After everything he’d been through, he wanted to look into the eyes of the enemy. He had to see for himself what Kaliel had seen at the top of the mountain. He had to know. Shouts rang out in the distance coupled with clanging metal.
“They’re near. Stop worrying,” Shimma said. She stuffed a blanket between them, bouncing along the back of the horse. Krishani hadn’t spoken to her since they left King Telper’s Court. His mind was clouded with other thoughts. Nerves raced through him as the shouts grew louder.
He rounded another dune and collided with a bald man on a black horse. The man wore a long tunic, a sheema loosely hanging around his neck. His skin was a deep gray. He raised his wide deep gray blade and swiped at Krishani. Krishani jerked Tyr’s reins to the left, narrowly avoiding the blow. The bald man rushed past him, hooves scuffing sand as the rider pulled his horse to a stop. Krishani glanced back. The rider swiveled, preparing to roughshod him.
A moment later, Krishani found more of them in the clearing. Crumbling sandcastles created a wall on the far side while the cat and mouse dunes loosely outlined the other side. The dark gray-skinned men rode in circles around a man on a white horse. The man on the white horse brings death, Krishani thought. Another beside him covered head to toe in black sat atop a pitch black stallion. Krishani did a double take. Ambrose. And Klavotesi, the Obsidian Flame.
Shimma slipped off the horse before the bald man rushed them. Krishani glance at her, but she shook her head and sprinted away, diving behind the nearest dune. He turned his attention back to Ambrose and Klavotesi, wonderin
g what was going to happen next. The bald man galloped towards Krishani, but the boy continued moving left along the outskirts of the band. The bald man blended into the crowd.
Most of the thieves were thick burly men with shadowy gray faces and night-black hair. Their horses were the color of clouds on a stormy day. They wore the same loose-fitting black tunics and sheemas, some of which were pulled over their heads. They brandished an interesting armory of broadswords, axes and daggers.
Krishani pulled out his sword as Ambrose and Klavotesi pulled out theirs. He held it in his infected hand as the circle broke. The clanging continued. Krishani slashed at the air, trying to knock an unsuspecting rider off his horse. The rider slid to the right, but pulled himself back up and galloped in the opposite direction. It was a rough match of rider versus rider. As Ambrose and Klavotesi passed the riders they landed a blow. They were skilled. The thieves jeered, taunting Ambrose and Klavotesi, but none of them actually spoke real words. The fight continued, but both the black-hooded Flame and the man on the white horse hadn’t seemed to notice Krishani. He pulled Tyr around towards the sandcastles and jabbed at one of the men, landing a blow to the shoulder, strong enough to push the rider from his horse. The moment he landed on the ground the horse reared and kicked Tyr square in the side. Tyr stumbled back as the hooves hit him and Krishani jostled around in his seat, fighting to keep his balance.
Ambrose and Klavotesi gained on the thieves and knocked two more from their horses. Others climbed onto their horses and retreated into the dunes. Ambrose stood over one man who was clutching his leg. Ambrose glanced at Klavotesi who stayed on his horse, but rounded the man. It made Krishani dizzy. Wind kicked up grains of sand and carried them through the air. Ambrose held the sword at the man’s throat. Klavotesi raised his cloaked arm and Ambrose swiftly dug the edge of the sword into the man’s neck. Dark gray blood smeared the sparkling sand as Ambrose pulled the blade out and grasped the man’s hand. He narrowed his eyes and spat in his face before whispering the blessing and threw the man’s hand away.
Ambrose turned, but Krishani gaped at the wispy white smoke rising out of the body. Knots tightened in his stomach as he waited for the Vultures. Familiar pin pricks made shivers ripple up his spine. He pulled Tyr in circles, looking over the peaks of dunes. A glimmer of black retreated in the distance, black wisps drawing away from them. He frowned and curiously turned towards Ambrose and Klavotesi as Shimma moved into the clearing.
Ambrose mounted his horse when Shimma emerged from the dunes and he stopped. Ambrose wasn’t like the others. A white ruffled shirt pulled across his chest, accompanied by tights and black fitted boots. A short sword hung from his belt, and decanter dangled on a strap over his shoulder. Unruly gray hair waved in the breeze. He had a smooth but stern expression, his cheeks sagging a bit, but giving none of his age away. His mouth was stretched in a thin line, his eyes sullen. “Lady, you shouldn’t be here,” he said, pulling himself onto the horse. He glanced at Krishani, his eyes bewildered. “Neither should you!”
Krishani rubbed Tyr’s mane, trying to soothe him from the kick to his side. Krishani was unable to understand how Ambrose had warded off the Vultures so easily.
Klavotesi pulled beside Ambrose and they exchanged a glance. Ambrose stiffened and pulled his posture higher on the horse. Shimma stopped a few feet away from the body. She had the lantern in her hands. “State your purpose,” Ambrose said, his gaze hot on Krishani.
“We came to speak with Klavotesi.” Shimma’s voice wavered with hints of indecision. She glanced at Krishani. He had never seen a Flame as intimidating, strong, and deadly. Krishani refused to say they came to collect Klavotesi, he looked unattainable. He cleared his throat and forced Tyr to take a step forward. “I’m Krishani.” He nodded to Ambrose and only briefly met his eyes.
Ambrose’s eyes went dark. “You’re new.”
Krishani nodded, still trying to fathom the idea of Klavotesi. There was a faint glimmer of hope in the familiarity, but the feeling wasn’t a good one. He almost wanted to leave without him, except Klavotesi looked strong enough to take on Crestaos by himself. “Aye,” Krishani muttered.
“And what do you require of Kla?” Ambrose asked, his voice dripping with venom.
Shimma stepped forward. “Help.”
Krishani looked passed Ambrose to Klavotesi. “You know what has happened.” He knew enough about Flames to know Klavotesi could communicate with the others. He wasn’t exempt from their brethren, even if they were scattered across the stars. Their common bond strung them together.
Klavotesi leaned towards Ambrose and more words were exchanged though Krishani couldn’t hear them.
Ambrose slid off the horse and Klavotesi followed, his black robes flowing around him. He refused to remove his hood and show his face. He stood behind Ambrose, dark and threatening. Krishani contemplated, then dismounted Tyr and faced Ambrose.
Ambrose grabbed his right hand and grunted in disgust. “You smell like a Vulture.”
“I need his help.” He tried to keep the strain out of his voice.
Ambrose narrowed his eyes. “Where is your honor?”
Krishani gritted his teeth as Klavotesi pushed Ambrose out of the way. He reached out and grasped Krishani’s left hand. Krishani tried to see a face beyond the abyss inside Klavotesi’s hood, but it was impossible. An uncomfortable warm tingling sensation hit his arm. Closed his eyes, flashes of Kaliel flitted through his mind. It was like every memory was being drawn out of him and spun on a wheel. It made him dizzy and overwhelmed at the same time. After what seemed like forever, Klavotesi dropped his hand.
“Ambrose,” Klavotesi said. His voice was smooth and deep and it caught Krishani off guard. “I’m needed on Terra.”
Ambrose’s eyes widened. He narrowed them at Krishani. “You came here to take this Flame.”
Krishani’s eyes hardened, but he said nothing. It was an admittance of his guilt.
“Crestaos has risen,” Klavotesi said. He was as still as a stone statue, his stance showing that he was no Flame to mess with.
“And so you will go with him? He will be a Vulture before long,” Ambrose said, disgust coloring his tone.
Klavotesi held his ground. “Darkesh of the Valtanyana will be loosed on this realm. One hundred years, if I do not go.”
Ambrose let a hand fall over his face as he shook his head. “The Vultures will come back.”
“What?” Krishani asked. He frowned and stared at the body. “Why didn’t they come when you killed him?” He stopped. “Why did you kill him?”
Ambrose sighed. “I have been around a lot longer than you. Klavotesi saw his darkness and his future. If I let him go he wouldn’t stop. More would suffer. I ended him to end suffering.”
“And why didn’t the Vultures come?”
Ambrose looked at Krishani’s hand. “They don’t stay where they cannot be fed.” He turned and mounted his horse. It trotted towards Krishani, where he stood staring at the body. “Again I ask you, where is your honor?”
“My honor is in revenge.”
Klavotesi withdrew and mounted the black stallion. “We best be gone if you want me to clean up your mess.”
Krishani turned from Ambrose and mounted his horse. They trotted towards the winding path back to King Telper’s Court.
“Wait!” Shimma called.
Krishani glanced at the clearing. A mass of curly black hair and skinny limbs ran towards them, wearing a long plain black dress. When she was close enough, Krishani noticed she had white skin and light gray eyes. She knelt over the body, an expression of loss on her face.
Ambrose went to approach her, but Klavotesi was faster. The white-skinned girl fell onto her knees near the body and crystal clear tears fell from her eyes. She glanced up when Klavotesi neared her, fear crossing her expression.
“What is your name child?” Klavotesi asked.
“Aulises,” she replied. Her voice was like chimes carrying through the wind, soft and innocent.
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Klavotesi took her hand. “Accept my apologies. You’re my charge now. I have executed your uncle.”
More tears ran down her face. She came to her feet and Klavotesi helped her mount the horse, then got on behind her. He glanced at Ambrose. “Tell Telper and Havelir where I have gone. I will return when this is over.”
Ambrose nodded and took off through the paths winding around the dunes.
Shimma lifted the lantern. “I used this to arrive here,” she said, clicking the last symbol into place. The orb grew until everyone was encompassed by it then quickly pulled into the nothingness of the rift.
Krishani was so shocked his bones ached with familiar longing and melancholy. He fell silent the moment the girl emerged from the dunes, his eyes pouring over her delicate features. The frame of her body, the shape of her face, her lips, her ears. If it weren’t for the black hair and the dress he would have sworn he knew her.
She reminded him of Kaliel.
29
Aulises
Shimma tumbled down the rocks as they exploded from the lantern onto Terra. All she knew was she was falling fast. The lantern tumbled towards her head. She glanced down; the mountain slope led to a cliff. She rolled and grappled with the rocks, trying to grab onto something to slow her speed. The ledge came closer and she dug her heels into the rocks, begging for something to stop her. The ledge was too close and she winced as she rolled into the blackness.
She couldn’t breathe as she plunged into the depths of a spring. The lantern fell into the water, followed by the horses and Krishani. She twisted in the prickly cold and grabbed the lantern. She pushed herself to the surface and treaded towards the ledge, glancing at the black horse, its rider and stowaway. They were dry. She narrowed her eyes as she pulled her soaking body out.
Krishani’s head bobbed out of the water as he wrestled to grab Tyr by the reins. When he got the horse to stop kicking he found the shores and his eyes locked with timid green ones. Knives stabbed his chest with trepidation. He was certain they were gray on Amaltheia. He pressed his lips together, cringing at the burning pain in his chest. He moved towards the reeds on the other side of the spring and pulled himself out of the water. Tyr followed as did Shimma. She wrung her hair out on the other side of Klavotesi and the girl. She looked exhausted.
JUSTICE (The Ferryman + The Flame #2) Page 22