Vulture

by Rhiannon Paille

  She sighed against him, her steps flowing with his, slower and heavier. “I miss the fire festivals,” she said into his shirt.

  “You can’t let the villagers see your eyes. They won’t understand.” He cast a careful glance at the men and women around them. They were aging, stout and scraggly with either reddish brown tangled hair or flat, pale stringy hair. Some of them were lanky where others were robust. All of them were tanned and hairy. The women weren’t much better to look at, with wrinkles around their eyes and mouths and the same dull wasted hair. They wore long uniform tunics to their ankles that didn’t give a hint of their curves. He thought the girls that attended the fire festivals in Orlondir were plain with their ivory or navy blue gowns and hair pulled into buns atop their heads. Even the fae from Araraema with their smooth glass-like faces and beady black eyes were unattractive.

  On Terra everyone suffered from the same poverty. Young maidens kept their hair around their faces and spoke when they were spoken to. It was hard to believe that when Kaliel stood out from the kinfolk on Avristar, it had been from a court of beauty and elegance. Now she stood out too much, like a speck of pure sunlight in a bed of coals.

  The only thing the villagers had was spirit. They didn’t stop dancing, even when sweat slicked across their skin and their lungs heaved for air. Krishani held Kaliel close as they danced through and around the crowd, avoiding the jig and the premeditated dance steps the villagers were used to. He wasn’t sure if they had this much fun all the time, but he wasn’t about to tell the bards to stop. There was a comfortable swelling in his chest, as though in this moment everything was perfect. He spun Kaliel under his arm and pulled her back as he moved in a wide circle, her arms wrapping around his neck, his around her waist. His eyes flicked to hers; they still had liquid amethyst shimmering through the irises. His muscles tensed for a millisecond and the music stopped.

  The villagers paused, one of the children letting out a protested wail. Footsteps shuffled along the floor as one of the women took the child by the hand and led him outside. Krishani watched them go as a slow clap began from behind him. Everyone parted, standing to either side of the hall as Elwen appeared in front of the throne. Krishani felt a hand tug at him and glanced down to see Kaliel pulling him towards one of the pillars. She disappeared between the villagers and left Krishani in his long sleeve gray tunic standing there with his back against the pillar, her hand in his.

  He wondered what it was about Elwen she didn’t like. He almost forgot her healing and sight were better than his. She could probably smell the tyranny on him. He glowered at Elwen who perched precariously on the edge of the bottom step, his brown robes curling over the ledge, hiding his shoes. He clapped in a slow rhythm, glancing at the villagers in turn. Krishani watched their faces, confused, timorous. None of them joined Elwen, standing quietly to either side of the hall, the women with their heads bowed.

  Elwen stopped and stared at Krishani with his piercing hazel eyes. “And so you have won,” he said, seeming to disregarding the villagers.

  Krishani shifted nervously, heat coiling into his extremities. He wanted to attack Elwen for not fighting with the armies of Avristar, and he wanted to do it without an audience. He gritted his teeth, preparing to say something vile when Kaliel’s hand slipped out of his. Cold filled him and he faltered.

  “I did what had to be done.”

  Elwen raised his eyebrows. “And your quest is over now.” His face was a mask of bemusement. He glanced at the villagers. “Let it be known! Krishani has risked everything for the safety of our village.” His voice dripped with sarcasm and none of the villagers budged. One of the children clapped, but hands came over theirs, forcing them to stop. Murmurs ran through the hall. None of them really knew what was going on.

  Krishani feared Elwen was going to tell them that he caused the war. Even if he won, he doubted the villagers would forgive him. He glanced at the faces; some of the men pushed their mouths to a straight line and their eyes were hard. Krishani wasn’t human like most of them. He towered above them, almost a foot taller than everyone, Elwen included. His pale skin was white compared to the beige tinge in their cheeks and his eyes were unnatural even for a Child of Avristar, one green, one blue, both bright and sharp. Humans didn’t have eyes like that. Their greens were discolored, blues tinged with gray, browns flat and dead. It was like a fog hung over the land, causing them to pale against the summer beauty of Avristar. A dull ache formed in his stomach as he stared at Elwen, his eyes blazing.

  “You know it’s over,” Krishani said through clenched teeth. He wondered where Kaliel had gone, if she was standing on the other side of the pillar, or if she was tucked in his room. What he said wasn’t entirely true. The Horsemen, factions of Daed warriors, and Morgana were out there. But he wouldn’t alert Elwen or the villagers about those threats. He didn’t want to think about the Horsemen wiping out entire villages. He hoped they grew tired of the carnage. If they killed again, he would have to hunt them down and the idea of leaving Kaliel alone with Elwen made bile creep up his throat.

  Elwen clapped, this time steady. He glared and the villagers picked up the applause, letting it waft through the hall like the pitter-patter of rain gaining velocity. The sound rang in Krishani’s ears, making him angry. He wanted to tackle Elwen, punch him square in the jaw and tell him that they didn’t need this spectacle, these people watching as Elwen patronized him. Krishani stole a glance over his shoulder to see if Kaliel was there and caught sight of black curls, her body pressed against the pillar, her head down. The applause died and Krishani turned back to Elwen.

  “You have proven your worth to these people. Will you honor them by taking your rightful place as the Ferryman?”

  Shock ripped through Krishani’s chest. It caved in, constricting his airways, making it impossible to breathe. He gaped at Elwen. After everything he had been through, Elwen still wanted him to be a vile monster. He didn’t care how Elwen saw it, Ferryman or Vulture, they were both vicious ends. He couldn’t do it. This was a family he never knew, people he couldn’t speak for. The crowd went silent as he glared at Elwen, his expression lethal. He blinked and flashes of the village along the cove flooded his vision.

  The man on the white horse brings death. Rand knew what Krishani was, knew what came with him. These people didn’t understand the first thing about the Ferryman. The villagers didn’t know what Elwen was asking. He was ready to pass out when fingers sliced through his clenched fist and drew them out, gripping him and an odd sense of comfort washed over him. Kaliel turned from the pillar and sidled up next to him, her hip pressed against his thigh.

  He looked at her, surprised that she would show herself. Her eyes were green again, her expression imploring. She raised herself on her tiptoes bringing her lips to his ear. “You have to give him a chance.” It sounded soothing but Krishani felt nauseous. Kaliel didn’t know what the Ferryman really was or what he did. She only knew about the nightmares, and those were benign compared to the Vultures. He shuddered and disentangled their hands, putting a protective arm around her shoulders.

  Elwen smiled. “Another happy proclamation. Krishani is in love.” He narrowed his eyes at Kaliel. “This is Aulises, from Amaltheia, correct?”

  Ice raced through Krishani’s veins. His mouth dropped open as he cast around for something to say. He glanced at Kaliel who looked like the stag before they caught it. She closed her mouth and nodded, not actually speaking. Krishani wondered why Elwen was so eager to conceal the identity of the Flame from the villagers. It was one thing for Krishani to want that, but Elwen agreeing with him about something only made him feel sicker about the nature of humans and their greed. Aulises was a traitorous harlot who couldn’t be trusted. And she was dead. Elwen looked at him expectantly, waiting for a response.

  “Aye, she’s from Amaltheia,” Krishani said, his voice monotone.

  “And she was sent by King Telper himself,” Elwen continued even though Aulises was never part of King T
elper’s court. Krishani gripped Kaliel tighter, and she simpered. “You have my blessing too you know,” Elwen finished.

  The villagers let another round of cheers echo across the hall. Elwen held up his hand and it came to an abrupt stop. “I still need to know, Krishani Mekallow Mekelle, Son of Marlow Tavesin, if you will take your rightful place as the Ferryman.”

  Krishani blinked, feeling like Elwen had dropped a stone on his head. The name Elwen rattled off was one he never heard before. It was full of syllables and consonants that sounded clunky and foreign. It might have been a name he was given at birth, but he would always be Krishani of Amersil, of Avristar and nothing else. “What did you say?” he stuttered.

  Elwen raised his eyebrows. “The name is your birthright. It is what your father named you when you were born two hundred years ago,” he said.

  Kaliel slipped a little in his grasp. He moved his arm so it was around her waist and fought to hold her up. She didn’t know about the two hundred years, the way time moved differently. His heart felt impossibly heavy in his chest. He didn’t want to hear more but he couldn’t stop himself. “Who was my father?”

  “It doesn’t matter. He wasn’t a Ferryman, but he was a Tavesin, like half the people in this hall.” He glanced meaningfully at certain people in the crowd. Krishani hadn’t realized the villagers were related to him by blood. He wasn’t used to that. Children were born of the land, and they all belonged to Avristar. “The question remains, Krishani. Will you be the Ferryman?” Elwen asked like Krishani actually had a choice in the matter, when in truth, if he didn’t do what Elwen wanted, he’d become a Vulture.

  Krishani lived so long believing he was a Child of Avristar that a paternal connection was lost on him. Whoever Marlow Tavesin was, he sent Krishani to Avristar without a second thought. He hung his head, knowing the only answer Elwen would accept.

  “Yes.”

  * * *

  7 - Leader of the Flames

  Kaliel watched idly as Pux and the others filled the middle of the hall for more dancing, and for once she didn’t feel like it. She felt heavy and exhausted, her hand still pressed to Krishani’s while he leaned against the pillar for support. Sweat congealed across his creased brow and a jaw muscle twitched at the edge of his mouth. She understood why Krishani didn’t tell Elwen anything about him. His ancestor wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t instilled with the kind of honor that existed on Avristar. He manipulated Krishani into agreeing to his birthright and humiliated him in front of the villagers. At least they weren’t paying attention to Krishani anymore. She realized the stories were true. Humans were ignorant, selfish creatures with little respect for anything. Her heart cinched as the longing for home cut into her so strongly that tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. The hall was stifling; she needed to get out of there before she broke down. All of this was wrong. Being alive wasn’t supposed to be like this.

  “Do you want to go back to the room?” she asked, hoping Krishani would come with her.

  “Kaliel?” a voice asked from behind her. Krishani let go and put his hands on her shoulders, looking briefly into her eyes.

  “I’m going to get some air,” he said nodding to the person that approached. He turned on his heel and stalked out of the hall. Her chest fell as he left, coldness pressing into her empty stomach. She glanced at the person who spoke her true name, but she had no idea who he was. He had stunning brown eyes and shorn brown hair. He wore gray trousers and a blue dress shirt with gray sweater vest overtop. She glanced at his shoes—black loafers. Nobody dressed like that, not even on Avristar. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and when he smiled his youthful features turned to a bed of wrinkles. He cocked his head to the side.

  “I take it you don’t recognize me?” He stepped further into the wings. He paused under the rafters and pressed his back to the stone. They were far enough away from the commotion to have a real conversation.

  Kaliel shook her head, perplexed. “Should I know you?” The stranger closed his eyes briefly and opened them again, a blazing azurite blue. Kaliel took a sharp breath. “The Azurite Flame, of course,” she said quietly. She shuffled back and forth, wanting to put distance between them. He closed his eyes again and the Flame’s fire drained away. She felt awkward being so close to her kin; he was the first Flame she had met in person.

  “I prefer the name Clamose,” he said his hands turning to fists in his pockets.

  Kaliel sighed and pushed herself back against the stone, her black hair falling behind her shoulders. She stuck her hands under her arms to keep them warm and to avoid touching him. She wasn’t sure what would happen when two Flames collided and the idea made her queasy. “You shouldn’t be here,” she muttered, stealing a glance at him. They were side by side now, inches of space between them. He looked at the ground. Nervousness flitted through her. There was this dangerous buzz in the air that made it suffocating to be around him. It made her think of heated rocks in the belly of the volcano and explosions. Kaliel wanted to be far away from explosions for as long as possible.

  Clamose scratched his head. “I came to ask what you wanted.” Kaliel frowned; she had no idea what he meant. “I suppose I should apologize first,” he mumbled, glancing at her sheepishly. “I’m not very good with socializing.”

  Kaliel tried to let her unease die down. “What are you sorry for?” she asked through clenched teeth. She sent a sweeping gaze over the crowd like she was checking for danger and turned her attention back to Clamose.

  “I felt them … too. Instead of trying to help you I cowered. I hid until the witches found me,” he said, his eyes on the floor.

  Kaliel let her arms fall to her sides. It pained her to know she wasn’t the only one watching her kind get picked off and trapped one by one. She wanted to ask him what happened to the others. She opened her mouth but closed it again. “It’s okay,” she said after a long pause, her tone flat.

  “You were brave. It was something I could never face,” he said.

  She sighed. “You did face it didn’t you? You were here for the war.”

  Clamose cringed. “I wanted to hide with the villagers. Klavotesi was striking down their kind and playing hero but I couldn’t do it. I didn’t kill anyone.” He seemed lost in the drone of his own words.

  Kaliel felt pin-pricks in her chest at the sound of Klavotesi. She recognized the name but she couldn’t place him. She wasn’t used to male Flames. “Klavotesi is here?” She sensed him but it was like he was trying to be infinitesimal. Clamose nodded slightly.

  “I need to formally ask you what it is you wish, my lady,” Clamose said and when he dropped his head he put a hand to his stomach and leaned forward like he was bowing to her.

  Kaliel faced him, bewildered. “Why are you bowing?” Her voice died in the back of her throat and came out like a whisper. This behavior was more than unseemly. In her opinion, it was downright ridiculous.

  Clamose looked at her with blazing blue eyes. “We have always followed you. You’re the best of us.” He stood and brushed his hands down his sweater vest. “I assume you recall nothing of the First Era?”

  Kaliel felt like she had been slapped. She wasn’t the best of the Flames; she was the worst of them. She thought about how weak, stupid, and unskilled she was. Bile rose in her throat and she swallowed to avoid throwing up the rotten food she had eaten earlier. She felt hollow as she tried to find the words. “I only did what I had to do.”

  Clamose looked at her like she was transparent and it hurt. He knew everything about who she was in the First Era and she couldn’t remember any of it. It was like he absorbed information and stored it for later. It unnerved her because it was how Krishani looked at her sometimes, not studying her, but memorizing her.

  “You were the only one without full knowledge of yourself, and yet you were the only one who managed to escape Crestaos when he came for you. Even Lotesse didn’t fare that well and she only faced seven of the Daed. Crestaos gave her a seizure before she had a cha
nce to scream.” He yammered on like Kaliel was as important as High King Tor and it made the urge to vomit stronger.

  “Please don’t talk to me like you know anything,” Kaliel said, her voice coming out more venomous than she intended.

  Clamose clapped his mouth shut. “I do know everything though. I may not be as smart as Kemplan but I know the most. That has always been my job.”

  Kaliel snorted. “You sound like Luenelle.”

  “I don’t recall reading about her,” Clamose said.

  Kaliel sighed. “She was a lorekeeper.”

  “I suppose I’m a … lorekeeper too. I tend to prefer librarian.” He smiled wide. “Genius also has a certain ring to it.”

  Kaliel looked at the ceiling, trying to hold herself together and then fixed him with a meaningful stare. “What I did doesn’t constitute leadership.”

  Clamose only crossed his arms. “I disagree. You may remember nothing but your instincts are sharper, your abilities are more natural. Even your humbleness is benevolent.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You watched out for us. You may not have been able to do anything but you were always there when things were at their worst. If you could have done something you would have. There’s more I can say about your character than my own, Kaliel.”

  Kaliel wanted to crumble. She glanced at the doors to see if Krishani was there, but he wasn’t. She needed him by her side; she couldn’t explain this without explaining that she was in love. “I refused to belong to Crestaos.” She shifted from foot to foot and crossed her arms. She felt Clamose’s piercing gaze on her. “I would never let him use me to kill everyone I loved,” she said. Foreign tranquility ran down her arms and into her legs and she stood straighter, like a marionette being pulled by an invisible string. “Do you know what I realized when I couldn’t escape him?” Clamose shook his head but she spotted a smile wanting to escape his lips.

  “He would never let me go. He would use me and I would always be powerless to stop him. In that moment I either belonged to him or I belonged to nobody.”