JUSTICE (The Ferryman + The Flame #2)

by Paille, Rhiannon

  “That was unpleasant,” Klavotesi said as he pulled his horse towards Krishani. A path curled around the slope they fell from. He signaled his desire to continue moving. Krishani mounted Tyr and glanced at Shimma.

  “Come on.” She mounted behind Krishani and they fled through the lands after Klavotesi.

  The Obsidian Flame was too skilled at riding, too swift for Krishani to keep up. The Flame’s precision was unparalleled and he seemed to know where he was going without any directions. The moonlight loomed over them in the middle of the night as they traipsed over rocks, wound through beds of moss and weeds. Krishani hardly recognized this part of Terra. His mind was a mass of memories, pain in his heart threatening to burrow deeper and burn a hole straight through it.

  “Sorry about the fall,” Shimma whispered as they pulled Tyr up a steep incline and tried to keep in step with the brilliant Obsidian Flame.

  “I’m fine,” Krishani said, gruff.

  “I thought it was a cliff.”

  “Well, it wasn’t.” He tried to shake water off his cloak and tunic as they rode, the wind whipping his hair into a tangled mess.

  Klavotesi dallied at the crest of a hill and disappeared over the rocks. Krishani fought to keep up with him. It felt like Klavotesi was steering them in circles away from something important. He refused to let it get to him. Something bad happened in the mountains, but it wasn’t something Krishani was around for. His stomach felt like sludge as he thought about Davlin, his predecessor. Klavotesi neared a river and flowed by the side of it until the mountains broke into jagged patterns again.

  By the time Krishani knew where they were he was exhausted and out of breath. They had traveled so far in so little time. Tyr fought for air as they rounded the shale sheets of rock and emerged at the far side of the shallow lake. The horse made a beeline for the lake’s edge and began lapping up water like he hadn’t drank in days.

  Klavotesi took his horse towards the tiny cabin tucked between the rocks. Krishani flushed with guilt as he recalled Osvanir, the body he left in the sand. As he pulled Tyr away from the water, Shimma dropped into the sand. She stalked towards the cabin.

  The body was gone.

  Krishani closed his eyes and wondered what might have happened to it. He passed the marks in the sand, looked up to see Klavotesi off his horse near the cabin. Krishani left Tyr on the beach and followed him while the girl hung by the stallion.

  Klavotesi turned when Krishani approached him. “This is a safe house,” he said as they entered the small cabin. It was unchanged. The single bed, the rocking chair, the end table and fire place. Klavotesi nodded and turned to exit. He passed Krishani and moved to where Shimma stood by the lake, drawing down the moon. Krishani followed but paused on the porch. Shimma had her hands to the sky, a contorted look on her face. He sat on the porch steps and watched them.

  Klavotesi caught her by the arm and she whined in protest, but didn’t succeed in ripping her arm away from him. He hummed for a moment and the grim tone reappeared. “Draw the energy later. We need to start a fire.”

  She looked at his cloaked face and nodded. She moved towards the grassy patches curling towards the forests in a mess of rocks, weeds and plants. She climbed them, scouring the woods. Krishani crossed his arms and went to stand, but stopped.

  Shimma returned with an armful of twigs. She dumped it on the dry mud. She and Klavotesi faced each other like they were squaring off. Krishani thought it was slightly amusing. The witch and the Flame.

  “This isn’t good enough,” Klavotesi said. He pointed to the cabin. “Behind it, there are logs.”

  Krishani stood, crossed the beach and pulled Tyr towards the cabin. He tied him up and then went to lift the flap to the knapsack.

  “I need some help,” Shimma hissed as she passed by. She didn’t stop, following the line of the cabin towards the dark crevasse in the rocks. Krishani let the knapsack go and followed her.

  Moments later a fire blazed to life and the four of them sat on logs surrounding the heat. Krishani was relieved to see the land wasn’t in an uproar, the battle hadn’t yet begun. Shimma rested her elbows on her thighs, her face cupped in her hands. She stared at the blaze, her eyelids drooping.

  “There are too many problems with this land,” Klavotesi said, breaking the silence.

  Krishani looked at him, but his face was still obscured by shadows. “Why did you choose Amaltheia?”

  Klavotesti shifted his hands, manipulating the fire. Krishani remembered when he used to do that in Amersil. That place was so far away he could hardly remember the shapes of the trees. The fire swirled, shaped and flared in flashes of orange, yellow and green. Krishani barely realized he was the one doing it, the color changing was something he had forgotten about.

  “It chose me,” Klavotesi said.

  “Why did you kill him?” Aulises asked. She sat next to Klavotesi, her eyes on the majestic colors in the fire. Krishani realized it must be surreal for her. Amaltheia was so dismal in its shades of gray. He glanced at her green eyes, which were wildly distracting.

  “I looked into his soul, child. There was no purity left. I put him out of his misery,” Klavotesi answered.

  “He was the only one I had left.” Tears streaked down her face. Krishani dared another glance at her, her agonized face obscured by thick curls of long black hair. He drew his eyes to the ground and stifled the pain in his chest.

  “Your brothers were dangerous men. And your father was a traitor,” Klavotesi said.

  “They said my mom went far away when I was younger. Do you know where she is?”

  “Dead. She has always been dead, since you were born.”

  Aulises made a noise that was somewhere between a sob and a gasp and buried her face in her hands. Klavotesi remained as a statue beside her. Krishani glanced over at Shimma, who had drifted to sleep.

  “You don’t protect these lands well,” Klavotesi began, staring at Krishani.

  Krishani looked up, sharo pain mushrooming across his temples as he stared into the flames. He wanted the night to pass quickly so when dawn came, they could face Tulsen and tell him about the terrible things he had done. He looked at his black and white hands. Traces of the curse crept into the back of his left hand. He recoiled, pulling the sleeves of his cloak over them, bunching the fabric in his palms. He sat in silence, letting guilt eat at him. He had nothing to say to Kalvotesi in his defense, the Flame knew everything already.

  “Ambrose takes great honor in his task,” Klavotesi said.

  “I don’t take joy in death,” Krishani said.

  “I realize you wouldn’t.” Klavotesi paused. “But there is life after death.”

  “That’s a lie.”

  Klavotesi moved lightning quick, pulling the blade from somewhere in his robes. He held Krishani at its long slender point. “I speak none other than the truth.” His form towered over him, and even though he was hidden by his robes, his presence alone was intimidating.

  Krishani gulped and leaned away from the point of the sword. He wanted the end of his life to come, but not at the point of the Flame’s sword. “I meant no harm.”

  Klavotesi slid the blade back into the invisible place between the folds of his robes and let his hands show. They were strong and muscular, with thick fingers and white almost-transparent skin.

  “If I am to be more accurate, your care of this realm is worse than poor.” Klavotesi faced the lake. “I steered us away from a striking sight. Did you know the Daed have been here before?”

  “How do you know who they are?” Krishani asked.

  “I know all when I want to know all. The bodies of goblins and humans are scattered across a battlefield near to here. Animals have been picking at them for weeks. Neither you nor Davlin thought to save those souls from the hoards of Vultures.”

  Krishani hung his head. “Davlin was dead.”

  “Ah yes, that would explain it. More souls devoured. You refused to leave her, and look at what you left in the wak
e of your destruction.”

  Krishani didn’t want to hear more out of the Obsidian Flame. He couldn’t fight him because it was evident he would lose so he stood and moved towards the knapsacks. He needed some form of comfort and Tiki was good at making pain feel numb and nonexistent. He couldn’t listen to Klavotesi ripping into him when all he wanted was to face Crestaos and end himself. He lifted the flap and looked at the dim orange light inside.

  “Leave me here,” Tiki whispered.

  Krishani didn’t listen, his thoughts blinded by his need for solace. He took her out of the knapsack and returned to the fire. He planned to let her work her magic on him, but as he neared the fire Klavotesi pulled the sword out again.

  “Don’t bring her near me,” he said an octave higher than usual. He backed away from the fire, keeping the sword out as a means of protection against Krishani. He seemed alarmed and irrational, the solid calm and reverence replaced with fear. Krishani sat on the log, opening the chamber, ignoring Tiki’s protests as he held her in his hands. He waited for her to make the pain go away.

  “Put that vile Flame away!” Klavotesi roared, his deep voice returned.

  Krishani acted like he hadn’t heard Klavotesi. He didn’t care, he was so distrait, every fiber of his being brimming with sadness. He was on the edge of madness. Any second he could spill over and everything he had once been would be gone.

  “This is dangerous,” Tiki screamed. She dimmed to almost nothing. The dams broke all at once. Shock waves hit his heart, fire crawling up his arms and legs. Krishani gaped at the sensation, his throat constricted, refusing to let air into his lungs. He fell off the log, knocking the lantern into the sand. Muscle spasms rocked his body. It was like lightning coursed through him, turning his body into a jagged bolt of energy. He dropped Tiki, his fingers digging into the sand as he rolled onto his side and fought against the black spots clouding his vision. All he could see was snow, giant flakes of black snow floating in front of his face. He squeezed his eyes shut, the deafening sound of the explosion ringing in his ears. He gasped; it was all the air he could get. There was a cry nearby as Krishani gagged, bile coating his throat. He opened his eyes and craned his neck. Klavotesi was on the black stallion, about to take off. Krishani heard Shimma curse. Her footsteps crunched the sand beside his ears. Krishani dropped his head, letting the onslaught of pain wash over his body in waves.

  Krishani whined as the disease ripped through him. It was like he was burning and freezing to death at the same time. The disease seeped into his bones; frostbite ripped through his veins, making his arm numb and heavy. His torso curled into knots as his heart burned. Claws raked over his flesh. He wanted to destroy himself in the worst way and he was getting closer and closer to it. Aches pulsed from every wound he had ever endured in battle, his insides turning into liquid. He sputtered and foamed at the mouth as the curse fought against the very pain in his heart, a pain caused because he was alive.

  No amount of time would make the pain of losing Kaliel hurt any less, and there was only so much time before the reverent numbness of the Vulture’s cold depths took him over. Tears escaped the sides of his eyes as he fought to take shaky, shallow breaths. He tried to lie still, let the pain rake over him until he was nothing, but it continued to cover him in waves, burning, freezing, aching and clawing at him.

  He wanted death; more than anything he wanted it.

  He closed his eyes and thought about Kaliel’s amethyst eyes. There was the boy he used to be, watching her swim with merfolk, wanting her, her and nothing else, losing her. It didn’t help to remember who he was, but the way she looked at him, loved him, relied on him, trusted him to protect her. He sucked in a breath and it was like he was drowning. She did everything she could to make sure he lived, and he wasn’t strong enough to do that without her. Part of him couldn’t believe what he was becoming in the wake of her loss. His hands trembled, his legs shook, and his chest rose and fell as he fought for clarity. Even if he faced Crestaos there wasn’t any hope of winning. Morgana would awaken the rest. He couldn’t fight them all and expect to live. Losing himself dishonorably wouldn’t bring him any closer to her.

  Krishani tasted blood in his mouth. The pain subsided, slowly depleting. When he was able to open eyes an orange light glowed above him. He grabbed it, desperate to stop Tiki from building the dams, but it was too late—tolerance set in. He wanted to fight the pain on his own. Using Tiki only meant the pain was still there, held at bay, building in intensity. He pushed himself onto his side and tried to clear his vision. Shimma knelt beside him, the orange Flame in her hand. She looked concerned.

  “Is it always like that?” she asked.

  Krishani coughed, a mouthful of blood appearing on the sand. He pushed himself up and perched on the log, his back to the fire. He nodded.

  “Without Tiki . . .” He spluttered, blood rising in the back of his throat. He leaned over to spit it out.

  Shimma put Tiki back into the lantern. She buzzed with the energy from the Flame. Krishani thought she wouldn’t need the moon anymore, but he also thought that, knowing her, she would be greedy and she might like the idea of possessing the Flame.

  Klavotesi pulled his black horse towards the fire and reeled at the sight of the Flame. “I will not stay with you if you insist upon tampering with her.”

  Krishani coughed. “Put her in the knapsack Shimma.”

  Shimma nodded and took towards the cabin.

  Krishani looked at Klavotesi and shook his head. “She warned me of the danger.”

  Klavotesi dismounted the horse. He eyed Krishani. “I don’t understand pain. I feel nothing. It was unnatural to see you that way.” He sat on the log Shimma had once occupied and looked into the fire. “I admired Kaliel’s strength.”

  Krishani closed his eyes at the mention of her name and turned to face the fire. Talking about her made a dull ache mushroom across his chest. He contemplated a change of subject and stole a glance in Aulises’s direction. She sunk into the mud, resting her back against the log. Her face was buried in her knees and her shoulders heaved. It was easier to look at her that way, he couldn’t see her eyes. “Why?” Krishani asked, turning his attention to Klavotesi.

  “She is the most fascinating of us.” His hands slid out of his cloak and their unusual transparency made Krishani shudder. “Natural magic.”

  Krishani closed his eyes. He could pick any moment in history with her and relive it without the striking pain of reality. It was an awkward sensation, being able to think about her safely. “Why didn’t the Daed come for you?”

  Klavotesi scoffed. “I’m not afraid of them.”

  “What about Crestaos?”

  Klavotesi took a deep breath. “I’m not fond of him, or the Valtanyana, or their intentions.”

  “You know what they want?”

  Klavotesi chortled in a low tone that sounded nothing like laughing. “You know what they want as well.”

  Krishani frowned. “The Flames.”

  “Aye, they want to merge the Flames . . . ”

  Krishani waited for him to continue. When Klavotesi didn’t he tried to understand. “Is it dangerous?”

  “Tricky and catastrophic. I don’t want to see what the known lands will become under the control of the merged Flames.”

  Krishani let that sink into his thoughts. “Why is Kaliel so fascinating?”

  Klavotesi’s eyes didn’t move from the fire. “Without her the Flames cannot merge.”

  Krishani frowned and focused on the fire. It wasn’t the answer he was expecting or hoping for. He wanted Klavotesi to see her for the beauty, depth and magic that seemed to teem off her body when she was alive with the Flame’s fire.

  “Crestaos will not overthrow Tor without Kaliel. Her loyalty is the key to everything.”

  Shimma sat on the other side of Krishani and looked into the fire. “Are you feeling better?” she asked.

  Krishani nodded. “We need to leave at dawn.”

  She rubb
ed her hands together as the winds picked up and pushed through the valley. “I hope my sisters arrive safely.”

  “They are well. Clamose is with them. They will be approaching the shores soon,” Klavotesi said.

  Shimma glanced at him. “Who?”

  “The Azurite Flame.”

  “Oh.” Shimma yawned and hung her head.

  Krishani shifted away from her. “You should take the bed in the cabin. I’ll stay here.”

  Shimma nodded and stood, stumbling towards the cabin, she fell against the steps’ railing as she ascended them. A moment later she was gone and Klavotesi moved towards the horse. “I need to check the perimeter.” He walked the horse towards the far end of the lake.

  Krishani sighed and looked at the stars. The vastness of the lands stretched into a thousand tiny dots. The day had felt the longest since he left Avristar. He closed his eyes, getting lost in memories of Kaliel all over again, the softness of her smile and the shining greenness of her eyes.

  Shivers ran up his spine. He would never let Kaliel go. She had entwined herself into his heart and it was her Flame that kept it beating day after day even when he had nothing left. He only fled Avristar because she told him to. If it had been up to him he would have had the axe of destruction fall on him, forcing his return to the Great Hall and leaving the Tavesins without a Ferryman, immortality or not.

  He sighed and opened his eyes. Aulises stared at him, her green eyes full of innocence and curiosity. She looked away when he looked at her. He turned his back to her, but there were shuffles behind him, footsteps in the sand, a dress swishing around in the wind. He felt the log shift as she sat. He stole a glance in her direction. She focused on the fire, grief etched into her features. He thought she must have seen roughly sixteen summers, give or take a couple. Her tiny body made it hard to judge.