Vulture

by Rhiannon Paille

  He pushed to his feet and looked around. The rain let up, clouds drifted away showing light gray tinges of dawn peeking over the horizon. The battlefield appeared under the light, golden armor, green grass, and gray boulders intermingled with the black skinned foes. He moved to the next body and knelt over it, whispering the incantation. It was a monotonous gesture. He wasn’t sure how many the Vultures had taken during the battle, but they weren’t going to get more. He glanced again at the sky. They circled, arms breaking off of edges, reaching into the atmosphere. They hovered, tempting Krishani, waiting for him to give up and give in.

  He planted his feet in the ground and stared at them. He didn’t care who was watching. Someone moaned nearby. He swayed on his heels, glaring at the Vultures, ignoring the bodies writhing on the ground.

  “I won’t belong to you!” he shouted. A pinched feeling hit him as more numbness drained away. The dam broke, emotions flooding forward. Krishani backed up and fell into a crouch, letting the pain swarm over him for a long while before clearing his vision. There was no reason to feel this way anymore, she was waiting for him inside. He knelt beside another warrior and lifted his hand. His eyes opened. “Where are you wounded?” he asked, but the man couldn’t speak.

  Krishani gritted his teeth and checked over the body in the gaining dawn light. Loud flapping wings broke over the sky. Gargoyles covered the Vultures, their skin like mineral rock, dark gray speckled with deep black and sedimentary white. He was distracted for a moment as the gargoyles retreated from the sun. He smiled slightly. They brought the boats to and from the island of Avristar. During the day they were nothing but stone statues, and at night they broke into their leathery forms, thick small wings at their back, grotesque mushy faces. They blotted out the sky for a moment before scattering, a single flock moving towards the night to find safety and solitude. Krishani knew what they wanted. Without the light they never lost their forms. Unless they wanted to turn to stone right there, they would find somewhere underground and hide.

  He glanced at the body at his feet, sickness sweeping into him. Across from him the form of a Vulture hovered. It stood there in the shape of a man, a foot off the ground, his form leaving only a torso, face and arms. His expression turned lethal. “No,” he barked, hoping it would go away.

  There was a hiss that sounded like laughter as the Vulture fled into the air leaving nothing of itself behind. Krishani whispered the blessing and wiped the sweat off his brow as smoke penetrated the circle of Vultures. They didn’t touch it, they didn’t even try.

  Krishani remembered what Ambrose said about Vultures not staying where they couldn’t be fed. He wanted to tell them he wouldn’t let them take anymore souls, but it was futile. He raced across the field, alerting the centaurs of the ones that could be healed, and blessing the ones too far into death to be saved. The more he did it the warmer he felt, like fire in his bones. Fire and a stinging ecstasy that made his heart thump. There were other things he would have to face at some point, but he couldn’t think of those things. They were so far away. Morgana was only a dream, the Horsemen only flashes in the darkness. He didn’t know if they were pillaging and ravaging villages, or if Morgana was bringing the others back from Avrigost.

  He was too lightheaded to think about the pending war with the Valtanyana.

  Krishani found the last of the warriors. He knelt beside it and whispered the blessing, noting the thick wound leaking from the warrior’s leg. They lost a few hundred at most, many were recouping. Krishani went to his feet and beamed. A dull lull of pain in his extremities faded.

  The sun delayed, lingering like it wasn’t sure it wanted to come up. This time between night and day was weird on Terra, lasting longer than it usually did on Avristar. There, day came in the blink of an eye, the sun shooting out of the horizon like a symphony.

  Krishani grimaced as he passed the stone Crestaos had thrown him against and remembered the violent blows to his head. He touched his temple and noticed a dark spot of red on his scalp. With all the commotion he barely noticed he was injured. All he cared about was that Tiki defeated Crestaos and because of it, the Great Hall returned Kaliel to him.

  • • •

  Krishani trudged across the green field and stepped onto the dirt road. He passed the gates as the last few stragglers were brought in. Krishani watched the spectacle idly. Centaurs took shifts piling bodies of black skinned creatures, readying a pyre. Feorns and elvens scoured the lands, picking up used weapons, ready to use them again for the next battle. The whole village was a buzz of activity. As he passed the gates shouts and cheers surrounded him, everyone celebrating. Loud conversations, grandiose speeches of tall tales spouted from the feorns. Krishani didn’t pay attention to them, what they told the humans was their business. The villagers seemed fascinated by their way of life, their training, the things they faced on Arathia.

  Krishani didn’t want to talk about the things he had done. His stories weren’t filled with triumph. He passed the torch lamps, smithy, barn, and stables, finding the steps to the main hall. Music filled him. People were dancing a jig, drinking that disgusting mead stuff and eating. Even the guards engaged in the merriment. Krishani pulled his hood over his face, his cloak concealing his features. This was how he liked it, even when he lived on Avristar he shied away from the festivities. The idea of dancing, singing and sparring was wasted on him. The only time he ever danced was with Kaliel, and that was the only time it felt right.

  It smelled like warm honey, burnt potatoes and roasted chicken. Fetid warriors conglomerated in the center of the hall, dirtying the whorl of red carpet stretching from the door to the throne. He paused, scouring the room for her. It was hard not to look for the white hair and green eyes. Krishani glanced briefly at the graying wooden throne, Elwen wasn’t there. His eyes moved to the long table on the left and beside it a short girl slumped against the wall. A feorn curled into a ball, his head resting against her lap. His eyes narrowed. She looked so much like Aulises, the traitorous thief girl from Amaltheia. That girl had sobbed most of the time and tried to be invisible the rest of the time. He quickened his pace across the floor, keeping his hood around his face to avoid the others. He didn’t want congratulations or glory or anything that resembled a thank you. He caused the fray, winning was a miracle.

  Tiki was so certain he would lose.

  Kaliel glanced at him, her eyes forest green ringed with the Flame’s amethyst fire. He reached her and crouched. Her legs splayed out in front of her, the black dress falling to her ankles, feet clad in black slippers. Damp black hair framed her oval shaped face, throwing curls in every direction. “You came back.” She said it like she was surprised.

  Krishani grimaced, trying to force himself to smile. He glanced at the feorn. “Are you okay? Is he okay?” There wasn’t much sincerity behind his question about Pux.

  She gently lifted the feorn’s head off her lap and he stirred as she gingerly settled him beside her. “He fell asleep, but we talked for a long time.” She put her hands in her lap and met his eyes.

  Krishani glanced at Pux, then back at her. He wanted to take her away and have her to himself, but he wasn’t sure what her eyes were trying to tell him. She used to be so easy to read, but now, in a body that wasn’t hers, he found it impossible.

  “Are you okay?” Her cracked lips pressed together in a line.

  He shook his head, an automatic gesture, and took her hand in his, pulling her to her feet. He didn’t care that Pux was lying on the ground, or that Kaliel glanced at him with an expression of guilt before he led her through the wings. He wended down the stony claustrophobic corridors with their low ceilings and thick stone walls. He reached a dead end and turned right, then left and continued down another corridor, opening a short wooden door. Kaliel fit, shorter than the door. Krishani had to duck as he followed her inside. He forgot how small it was, the room bereft of a window. He fumbled around the cot, finding the saucer and candle on the end table. This wasn’t as graceful a
s it used to be. Light flickered into the room a second later as he lit it with abilities he almost forgot he possessed.

  Kaliel stood beside the cot her hands pressed into her thighs, her forest green eyes emitting worry. He shrugged off the cloak, and she moved towards him and helped him pull off the armor. Her hands on him made his heart convulse. She pushed the chainmail over his head and left the gray tunic underneath. He didn’t care, he pulled her to him and she let out a breath, pressing her lips against his, her hands on his tunic, grasping at the hem, pushing it up. He was so dizzy with the pressure of her lips on his, his hands curling into her hair that he almost forgot about the disease twined around his arm and sunk into his shoulder. He pulled away, gasping. Glancing at his arm he tucked it behind his back as he bent over, blowing out the candle.

  When he turned back to her she forced the tunic over his head. He wound his black hand around her waist and ran his fingers along her brow with his left hand, her eyes boring into him. It felt like something was tearing apart. He never thought he would get to see her again, amethyst eyes, shy smiles, warm touches. This was a blissful dream. Her hand stroked his tight stomach muscles and he let out the breath he had been holding in, cupped her face and kissed her again. Languorous, like he wanted to savor every moment and never let go. She sank onto the bed, sitting first, and he sat beside her, face still cupped in his hands, lips still grazing along hers. He parted his first and hers followed, his tongue sliding along hers. She gasped and wound her hand around his arm moving his left arm to her waist. He slid it up her back and felt the strings twined along the back of her dress, keeping it tight around her body. He slowly undid them and the dress fell loose around her chest. She went to wriggle out of it and his muscles tensed.

  He couldn’t erase the darkness attached to him. He couldn’t erase the memory of Aulises staring at him with expectation in her expression. He broke away and she frowned.

  “It’s soaked through I have to take it off,” she said.

  Krishani fell on the cot beside her, burying his arm under the blankets. “We shouldn’t, not like this,” he said slowly, turning so he was on his side facing her, his left arm resting on her thigh. He didn’t want to tell Kaliel that when he closed his eyes he pictured his sword at Aulises’s throat, and, even though it was Kaliel, it wasn’t the same.

  She glanced at him as she continued to wriggle out of the dress. He wasn’t sure how well she could see him in the dark; to him she was just an outline. She stood and let the dress fall to the floor before joining him. He felt her shiver and grabbed the blanket to cover them. She angled herself so her head rested on his infected shoulder and his eyes widened for a moment, wondering if she would notice, if she knew. All she did was close her eyes and listen to the thrumming of his heart. She traced circles on his chest. The motion of her fingers on his clammy skin made the world fade away. He cleared his throat to remind him of where they were.

  “What’s wrong, Krishani?” she asked, a finger streaking down his pectoral muscles and resting near his navel.

  He gulped and tried to blot out the tingles humming through him. Without his eyes on her it wasn’t Aulises. She was the girl he met on Avristar, the one that swam with merfolk and talked to trees. He pressed his lips into her hair for reassurance. “Everything hurts that’s all.”

  She let out a short breath. “Are you okay?” She asked like she knew he wasn’t okay. He stifled a smile and somehow it turned into a cocky grin.

  “I’m better than okay.”

  Kaliel had nothing to say.

  “You’re really here aren’t you?”

  She laid her hand flat on his stomach and pushed herself up. He felt her eyes on him. She pressed her hand against his cheek. “I wish I’d never left.” She leaned in, her lips brushing against his before he fell against the cot and laced a hand behind his head. An ache pulsed in his gut but he tried to ignore it. This was supposed to be a happy moment, all the things plaguing them were supposed to stay away. Kaliel shuddered in his arms. “You don’t feel the same.”

  He tensed like he was ready to spring off the bed at any second but stopped himself. “It’s the battle. We lost a lot.” He thought briefly of Mallorn and Handele and squeezed her tighter. He couldn’t burden her with those deaths, not yet, not more death.

  “I wasn’t the only one?”

  Krishani frowned and thought back to Avristar, the battle against the Daed and Crestaos. He ran a hand gently through her hair. It didn’t matter she had a different body; she felt the same. Part of him had forgotten how fragile that girl was, like the mutable surface of the lake, Kaliel was as impressionable as liquid. He tried to smooth out the curls and closed his eyes. “You weren’t the only one.”

  “Who else?”

  “I don’t know all their names.”

  She shifted and sat, slinging her bare legs over the edge of the bed. Krishani caught her hand and she looked back at him but he couldn’t see her expression. “I should let you sleep, and ask the servants to bring me some clothes.”

  Krishani groaned and twined her fingers through his. He pulled her hand to his lips. “Can you do that later?” All he wanted was one moment of perfection, something before all the hard truths came out and gave her more reasons to be afraid. At first she said nothing but then moved back into the bed and found a place nestled in his arms, the length of her body against his.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered after a long time.

  Krishani froze. “For what?”

  “I didn’t keep my promise.”

  Krishani felt the warmth of her salty tears on his chest and gripped her harder.

  “What promise? Please don’t cry, everything is fine now.”

  She hiccupped and sunk into his embrace. “But I didn’t find a happy ending.”

  He pressed his lips to her hair, his own tears mixing with the curly strands. He hoped she wouldn’t remember that, but her memory was just as impeccable as his. What Elwen said wasn’t true at all. She did recognize him, she remembered everything. He wanted to cling to that for as long as he could because he didn’t want to lose himself again.

  “This is our happy ending,” he murmured, but the words didn’t hold any weight. He waited in the silence as her breaths slowed and she fell asleep in the only safe place in the lands, his arms.

  * * *

  5 - Memories of Avristar

  Kaliel woke up later, a warm sticky feeling in her mouth. She dug in a breath and let it out slowly. Krishani lay beside her, the room cast in eerie darkness. She gingerly pushed the blankets off her new form. It was harder to move; aches began in her elbows and spread up and down the length of her arms. Her legs felt bruised, that was familiar, but they were stiffer. She inched to the edge of the cot and felt for the candle. There was nothing but a stone that didn’t feel like flint beside it. She frowned and wondered how they lit candles. She glanced at Krishani. Even though she couldn’t see him in the dark she could feel every bit of him pulsing next to her. It was a comforting feeling, knowing he was within arms’ reach.

  She didn’t want to wake him; he looked so wasted the night before. She sighed and went to rummage around for the dress she had been wearing. It was a little heavier than the dresses she was used to. There was a chill in the dank room and she wasn’t about to go lurking around naked. Her hands ran along the coarse material and she pulled it up to her chest, it was still wet. She sighed and rocked back on the bed. She was about to lay down again when she thought of something. Pulling the black dress up, she bunched it at the edge of the bed. If this was his room, he should have a spare tunic around somewhere. The idea of wearing his clothing might give the servants the wrong idea, but she didn’t care what they thought. She pawed through the dark, trying to find anything she could wear. Her hands followed the floor, pushing armor and chainmail out of the way. In the corner she found a rucksack. She undid the draw strings, pulling out a dagger and flint stone which she placed next to the candle. She drew the bag out of the corner and b
rought it to the edge of the bed. There were tools, picks and hammers, things they would need if they weren’t planning on being housed at Castle Tavesin. She sighed again and glanced at Krishani. His breathing was steady, his chest rising and falling. She gulped, stifling the tears gathering in her eyes. She didn’t realize how much she really missed him. She didn’t even know how much she had hurt him. He seemed stronger than she remembered.

  Her hands curled around something familiar. At first it was just fabric but when she pulled it out she knew exactly what it was. It was a little musty and creased but she didn’t care. She fit the green dress over her head and tied the strings behind her chest, it fit.

  He must have gone to Nandaro and taken her things with him before he left. She took a deep breath at the thought of Mallorn. She missed him too, and Desaunius and Atara but she didn’t know when she would see them again. The conversation with Grimand interrupted her thoughts, she desperately wanted to go home, even if he said she couldn’t.

  Krishani stirred and she flinched. She couldn’t tell if his eyes had opened but when he groaned she remembered the stone and the darkness. She picked it up and swiftly scratched it against the wall, hoping to create a spark to light the candle. There was a low familiar chuckle from behind her. “It doesn’t work like that here.”

  Kaliel sighed and put the stone down, gaping at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—” she broke off as Krishani sat and rubbed his hands together, producing a spark. Trickles of light spilled into the room and when she could finally see his face he looked speechless. She went to say something but he pulled her into him kissing her with the same ferocity as on the battlefield. She let him explore her lips for a moment too long and then broke away, her eyes meeting his, memorizing every part of their blue and green wonder. They were the same eyes she had always known.