Vulture

by Rhiannon Paille

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. She didn’t say anything, and he moved his hand to the small her back. His mouth came down on hers hard and clumsy, like he hadn’t planned to kiss her, but he didn’t know what else to do. She kept her hand firmly on his chest but he gripped her tighter, her arm crushed between them. Her head swirled with thousands of questions she wanted to ask, but it was hard to concentrate when he kissed her desperately as if the land would crumble if he didn’t. She curled her free hand around the back of his neck where his skin was clammy. Her fingers knotted in his hair and he pulled back, breathing hard.

  Her expression hadn’t changed at all. Her eyebrows drew together and her hand pressed against his fast beating heart but all she could feel was the dread pooling in her stomach. She tried to stave off the tears but she knew something was wrong. “Why did you kiss me like that?”

  Krishani seemed confused. “Like what?”

  She sighed. “Like you’re never coming back.” She tore her hand from his chest and turned away. There were more than twenty stalls lined up, horses or colts in each one, saddles and reins slung over the sides. There were lots more travel knapsacks made with curved wire, bags hanging off either end of the horse’s rear. She didn’t like that everything in the stable spoke death to her. Krishani couldn’t leave so soon, not after she had just gotten him back.

  Arms slid around her, his chest pressed to her back, lips at her ear. “I am coming back,” he said.

  “Why do you have to go?”

  “I promised I would do the work of a Ferryman.”

  “Does the work have anything to do with the nightmares you used to have?”

  Krishani let out a long breath. She whirled on her heel and crossed her arms. He had his head down, melancholy etched across his face. He shook his head. “The nightmares are real now,” he muttered.

  That didn’t comfort Kaliel at all.

  She let out a whimper, tears in her eyes. She went to say something but instead she shook, unable to get the words out. Krishani’s eyes widened. “They’re not Valtanyana,” he said quickly. He strode towards her and put his hands on her shoulders. When she wouldn’t look at him he hooked a finger under her chin and made her look up. “I promise they’re not coming back.”

  She didn’t know what to say, but she nodded. “What are they?”

  “Horsemen. They’re human.”

  “Corrupted.”

  Krishani hummed and nodded. “They’re exactly what Istar said I would be up against. Do you remember?”

  Kaliel nodded and pressed her cheek into his chest. His arms covered her and for a moment she felt safe again. This was the only thing that made sense to her; everything else scared her or confounded her. She still had trouble understanding how she was alive and what she had done to destroy Avristar. She would always feel guilty and homesick. Krishani didn’t say anything. He held onto her and swayed back and forth.

  “You have to promise me something,” Kaliel said after a long time. She struggled out of his embrace and looked at his mismatched eyes. Even if she had changed, he was still the boy she fell in love with. His grip eased and she fell away from him enough so she could see his face.

  “Anything you want.”

  “Find a happy ending,” she whispered.

  “Oh, Kaliel,” he said, crushing her to him. She didn’t know how to explain it any other way. She needed him in a way she’d never needed anyone before. “What if I can’t?”

  “Promise,” she pressed.

  Krishani nodded against her dark hair. “I will try.”

  They stayed locked together in an embrace for awhile longer, and then he detached himself and moved to the white horse. He checked the bags for his supplies and mounted. The horse trotted into the center of the stables, and Krishani took out a flat stone and held it in his palm. Kaliel stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself to hold in the crippling feelings of helplessness. A bright light flashed. Krishani and the horse were gone. Kaliel stumbled backwards to the door, a hand flying to her mouth.

  He could transport.

  She rolled along the door, feeling like she was horizontal on the floor and fell, landing on her hands and knees. Tears spilled over as she gathered herself and fled to the watchtower to spend the night alone.

  • • •

  Kaliel watched the little girl in the silvery night dress skip along the frozen tundra. Her bare feet kicked up a layer of frost, leaving a trail of black footprints across the land. She was laughing and singing a song at the top of her lungs. Sounds twisted into the sky as Kaliel drifted along behind her, a cascade of black hair dropping to her ankles. It shimmied this way and that, strands sweeping along the ground, writing faint lines in the tundra.

  The girl stopped short, a hand placed on her brow as though she was trying to see far into the distance. Kaliel followed her view and her stomach lurched, smoke twisting into the sky. The little girl smiled gleefully and her song continued. Kaliel caught the words.

  Everything is burning

  Everything is burning,

  Fire and brimstone,

  Ash and smoke,

  The Horsemen leave nothing,

  Alive when they go.

  She began skipping again but Kaliel stopped following. She was paralyzed, a lump in her throat, tremors lacing through her body. The Horsemen were burning everything, everything was burning. Krishani was burning. She squeezed her eyes shut and caught a single glimpse of his brown and golden eye, his face covered in flames. She opened her eyes, still surrounded by the never-ending stretch of tundra–short bushes, frost on the ground, horizon far in the distance, the sun creating an orange line of the sky, the rest of it cast in deep gray clouds. She felt claustrophobic; the big space making her feel like the land was compressing her into a tiny ball. The little girl glanced over her shoulder, her white face inviting.

  “Come on,” she said, waving a hand in the air as she continued skipping.

  Kaliel let out a breath and felt herself float forward. She wanted to escape but she couldn’t wake up. She struggled against herself but nothing happened. This was like the sandstorm, the same little girl who called herself Morgana, the little girl who brought the Horsemen.

  She was the reason they were burning everything.

  Morgana stopped. “You don’t want to miss the deaths,” she called, her voice ringing out like wind chimes. Kaliel recoiled from the sound, holding her hands to her ears. “Even the roads run red with blood.”

  “No,” Kaliel whispered, unable to think straight. She fell on her knees and put her forehead on the cool frost. That was better. Anything was better than more nightmares, especially about things Krishani was supposed to fight. The Lands of Men weren’t safe, she realized that, but she didn’t know they were this bad. A piercing pain entered her heart. She looked up only to find the girl’s hand on her shoulder, the girl’s eyes knifing into her, big black glazed over orbs reflecting the clouds above them. They crackled with lightning. Her red lips parted, showing a perfectly aligned row of rotted teeth.

  “It’s pretty,” she said.

  Kaliel fell into the blackness of her dream and woke up panting, the quilt twisted around her. Heavy breaths slowed as she fought to keep the phlegm in her throat down. She swallowed hard and brought her hands to her face, realizing she was crying. Without thinking she threw the quilt off and stood, shakily putting on her slippers. She fell against the wall before ripping open the door and fleeing into the night. She didn’t get too far; all she could think about was the lake. The lake with the merfolk, the lake that was less than an hour from the House of Kin. Only when she rounded the castle did she remember she wasn’t on Avristar anymore. Moonlight glinted off the shallow waters of the small lake. Colorful, smooth rocks dotted the shore, the water not quite reaching the grass. She paced along the mound and sat, burying her head in her knees.

  She thought of the prophecy. That’s why she was seeing the little girl. It had something to do with the prophecy, the one about th
e Ferryman and the Flame. She hadn’t thought about the Flames since her return. She assumed Klavotesi was taking care of them. Clamose was gone, she could sense it, and Klavotesi wasn’t interested in speaking with her. He was angry about her gallivanting off to Avristar. Three days on Avristar was three moons on Terra. It felt like time played tricks on her. Wasn’t it bad enough that she wasn’t wanted there? That she had been rejected? That stinging pain was worse than any lecture Klavotesi could give her about being three moons tardy for her first lesson. She hoped he taught Pux in the meantime but Pux hadn’t mentioned it. The idea of being a damaged girl was supposed to go away. She was supposed to be smarter, stronger, more successful, and yet, she still felt like a scared child, worried about everything that had a shadow.

  She used to think it was because of what the Great Oak said, but now it was the prophecy and nothing but painted symbols to decode. She knew how it ended in the First Era. Things burned, she burned. She was there at the end, during the apocalypse. She shook. It couldn’t mean that, because prophecies were warnings, warnings about all the things that could go wrong. Nothing ever did. In the First Era the Valtanyana lost, and they were sealed in Avrigost. The Daed warriors supported them and the armies stood against Tor, but she didn’t know where those armies came from.

  She lifted her chin and looked at the silvery surface of the lake. She couldn’t help but feel guilty. She was part of the reason people died. She always assumed she was on the right side of the battle. She never questioned whether or not she supported Tor or if she stood with the Valtanyana. Where had Krishani stood? And did it matter? Even when she was born to Avristar and raised by the land, she still betrayed and destroyed that land. They believed in her, loved her, protected her, and she tried to save them, but it wasn’t enough.

  No, the worst of it is that you brought the foe here in the first place. Atara’s words flooded her mind. No matter what she wanted to believe about blooming the flower of sacrifice, Atara, Istar, and everyone else on Avristar thought of her as the weed. She was something they couldn’t control or understand, and therefore she was banished.

  She sat in the grass for what seemed like hours and cried. The crushing truth of reality settled on her shoulders and she welcomed the self-loathing. She couldn’t change the past, and the prophecy was a warning about her future. Her present was broken, stuck in a lack luster land with strangers, the boy she loved miles away. She sighed and got to her feet, brushing herself off. There was only one person who could make her feel better. She crept around the castle and tried her best not to wake the villagers or the animals as she opened the gate, passed the chicken house, and entered the barn. She climbed up the rungs of the ladder and crawled on her hands and knees through the bales of hay.

  “Pux?” she whispered.

  There was a rustling sound followed by a flop and a groan. “I’m awake! Is it morning already?” Pux asked as he rubbed his eyes.

  Kaliel grimaced. “It’s the middle of the night.”

  Pux gave her a funny look. “Why are you here?”

  “Krishani left and I can’t sleep. Will you stay in the watchtower with me? Until he comes back?”

  Pux stood and paced the small spaces between the stacks of hay bales. He chewed on his claw and furrowed his brow. “We can’t let the villagers know,” he said finally.

  “Why not?”

  Pux sighed. “Because they think things should work a certain way. And because if this were Avristar I’d never be allowed to stay in your room.” He shot her a devious grin as he reached the ladder and dropped his legs into the hole. She followed his logic, but she was focused on the gargantuan drop ahead of her. She carefully treaded across the floor and managed to dip her body through the hole after him, her feet slipping on one of the rungs.

  Pux gave her an uneasy look, like for once he wasn’t sure if this was a good idea.

  “It’s not like anything is going to happen,” she said, her voice cutting on the last word. She scrunched up her nose.

  He had the same look on his face, disgust, awkwardness. “Yeah, I love you, but not like that, Kaliel.” He hurried to the front of the barn. When he reached the archway he glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  She turned red, embarrassment spilling over her cheeks. “You thought I wanted you to sleep in the same bed?” She choked, her eyes wide.

  “No,” Pux stammered. “I guess not. I mean, never mind. People talk enough about what’s right and what isn’t around here. I don’t want them getting the wrong idea about you.” He slung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her towards the door. They emerged in the inky black of night, clouds blotting out the few mismatched constellations. Kaliel didn’t even know the names of these ones; the sky full of a completely different pattern of stars. Pux wound her around the fences and down the path to the watchtower.

  “I have extra blankets,” she said once they were inside, and Pux sprawled out on the animal hide. She rummaged through the drawers and handed him one.

  “Thanks,” he said, kicking it open and scrunching his wolf-like feet underneath it.

  Kaliel slid into bed and pulled the covers to her chin. They sat there in awkward silence, listening to the wind rustle the leaves on the trees. Branches scraped along the wood and Kaliel shivered. “How do you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Live here?”

  Pux moved so she could see him between the bed and the bureau. “I help them. I follow their laws. I listen to their stories. They like sharing, and they appreciate my help. Unlike the others who have come from Avristar, I’m not trying to change everything so it’s more like my home. I accept them for who they are.”

  Kaliel took a deep breath. Pux had grown so much since he last saw him. He wasn’t as joyous as he used to be, but he also wasn’t as naïve. A plummeting feeling attacked her stomach. It made her feel like she was falling, because he had all this time to grow up and she was still a desperate little girl running from the Valtanyana. She moved from the edge of the bed and pressed her head into the pillow.

  “You always know what to say,” she said, snuggling in. “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight,” he echoed.

  * * *

  19 - Winter

  Tyr kicked up the white frost stretching across the tundra. Krishani cinched his grip on the reins and blinked; his head was swimming with vertigo. He had the stone locked in his left hand, but because of the twisting and turning during the transport he was disoriented. He leaned back and tucked the stone into the knapsack as Tyr slowed to a stop. A hazy gray sky spread above them, dawn creeping over the horizon in a pale yellow. He frowned. This wasn’t a village; this was the middle of nowhere. He turned Tyr in a slow circle. Low-lying skeletons of shrubs poked haphazardly out of the ground. Night escaped over the western horizon, nothing in the distance but endless plains of frozen moss.

  An explosion sounded behind him.

  He flinched, instinctively ducking into the horse as Tyr whinnied and stomped his hooves. Krishani quickly gathered the reins and pulled Tyr around, only to see fire, smoke, and flying bits of debris in the sky. Tyr backed away but Krishani kicked him in the side and galloped to the fire. It went against the better judgment of any creature but he couldn’t avoid the Horsemen.

  A plank flew by his head as Tyr gained speed, dodging pellets of fallen rock and wood speckling the frost-covered plain. He was nimble on his feet, jumping over patches of upturned grass, avoiding tree branches hurled into the air in every direction. Krishani tried to calm the nerves in his gut as he pushed forward. There was no doubt in his mind he would rather be with Kaliel, but this was what he was. This was what he always would be.

  A monster fighting monsters.

  The land sloped upwards as the debris got heavier. Thick streaks of burnt grass snaked towards the house, four singular paths marked by large hoof marks. Krishani stifled the urge to vomit as the smell of charred flesh hit his nostrils. He looked up in time to see something big
hurtling towards them. He pulled Tyr to the right, planning on passing the one house blown to smithereens and catching the Horsemen in the village. He kept his head down as he traveled across black streaks of scorched land and covered his mouth with the sleeve of his cloak. The grayish black smoke became heavy. Tyr panted and whined, slowing down and bobbing his head in distress. Krishani had no time for this. He came around a small hill. Tyr slid down the slope and hit a crux in the grass. He hastily pulled Tyr around the scattered evergreen trees. One of them was missing half its limbs, the blast blowing it clear from the yard.

  Tyr tiptoed across a small curving walkway of flat, sunken-in stones, his hooves clacking against them. He wended around two shallow mounds and entered the tiny village. Smoke hung on the tops of the trees, a flower garden burned bright orange, and the house, an elaborate three story cabin made from both wood and stone, was a shell of its former glory.

  Two people lay on the ground, their tattered gray clothes pulled away from their skin, smattered with holes in the fabric, sticky at the edges where the fire tapered off. One of them was a bigger man, brown hair frayed at the edges where fire had scorched it. The blonde woman next to him had her hands in her scalp, her head beet red. She was almost bald because of the fire, her long wool tunic shredded by flame. Where it left patches of her skin exposed were dark black marks outlined by angry red.

  Krishani slipped off Tyr, his jaw hanging open as he carefully approached the two. There was nothing left of their home except for a porch and a few support beams. He fell on his knees beside the man and diligently turned him onto his back. His brown eyes were open, but he wasn’t screaming in pain. The look in his eyes said he knew he was dying. Krishani gripped his hand, his eyes widening as searing pain raced across his skin. Krishani felt the effects of the burnt skin and winced, vomit rising into his throat. He swallowed it down; it tasted gross. He squeezed his own eyes shut as he whispered the incantation and dropped the man’s hand.