“I have some good news. Tor is on his way to retrieve the Flames,” Klavotesi said.
Kaliel’s pulse raced. She hadn’t met High King Tor, but the thought of being face to face with him made her nervous and excited. The attack on Avristar happened so fast he didn’t have time to help her. Klavotesi was adamant Tor was in the Avrigard quadrant fighting against another faction of Daed warriors when Crestaos attacked. Klavotesi was honest, the lands were falling into chaos, and the Daed were still out there. With Crestaos gone they had less interest in Flames.
“Does that mean he’s taking them to the Great Hall?”
“He’s entrusting Kemplan with them.”
He was another person Kaliel learned a lot about since training with Klavotesi. Kemplan worked in the Great Hall as a lorekeeper. Many called him the Great Librarian.
“When will I be the way I was before?” It stuck in the back of her mind all the time, the girl she used to be, with the brighter green eyes and a touch that invoked the land. She desperately needed to feel like herself again. Having little to no success with things she was familiar with only made her agitated.
“You’re not ready for that step.” Klavotesi’s voice was smooth and unerring.
Kaliel stopped. They were somewhere at the far end of the village, between clusters of cabins and fenced-in areas containing more livestock than she was used to. There was an animal shorter than a horse but thicker, brown, and angry that she didn’t recognize. She twisted her toe in the mud and crossed her arms. “I’ve practiced so hard though.”
“You still have a long way to go.”
“Krishani needs me now. I know where he is. I could get myself there in my sleep.”
Klavotesi chuckled low at the irony. “And yet that is how you see him, is it not?” he challenged. “Are the Horsemen still alive?”
Kaliel looked at one of the A-frame cabins, avoiding his penetrating glare. She traced the lines of wood on the logs and shook her head. “He hasn’t been able to kill them.”
“And how are you going to help him?” Klavotesi faced her, crossing his arms and glowering under his hood. Kaliel felt the red-hot blaze of his eyes on her and it sent chills up her spine.
“I can help … the Flame.…” At the change in Klavotesi’s energy she shut her mouth. They weren’t alone. Villagers automatically shied away because of Klaovtesi’s grand presence, but one of the children peeked out from behind one of the cabins, his brown eyes fixed on her.
“You don’t even understand the full extent of what the Amethyst Flame can do and you want to risk it by running off again?” Klavotesi said, his voice hitching higher.
Kaliel clenched her fists at her sides. She wasn’t going to back down. It had taken Krishani long enough; she wanted it to be over. She didn’t care what it took to bring him home; she would do it. She seethed before answering. Coils of the Flame crept up her arms and legs, filling her with the Flame’s fire. She felt her eyes snap to liquid amethyst as she stared Klavotesi down. She never felt like a leader of the Flames, but he couldn’t stop her from doing what she wanted to do.
“What about Krishani risking his life?” Kaliel shouted, anger reaching a boiling point. She felt the heat in her arms and hands, tasted it in the back of her mouth. She breathed hard trying to control it.
Klavotesi whipped his hood down, his eyes black orbs as cold as ice. His hands vibrated with the pulse of the Obsidian Flame. “He doesn’t want your help. He has to do this on his own. All you are is a little girl who thinks she’s infallible.”
Kaliel narrowed her eyes to slits, but Klavotesi closed the distance between them and took her hands in his. Kaliel felt a low pulse like a wave erupt from their clasped hands, a gust of wind cascading off them and rattling the shutters on the cabins. Immediately the look in his eyes hit her and she felt like her entire life was on display for him to see. It sped through her memories with lightning speed and settled on the image of the First Era, Krishani burning, his one golden eye and one brown eye staring into hers.
“You’ve been dangerously stupid before,” Klavotesi hissed. He didn’t waste words on lies and that was what hurt the most. The moment he touched her she knew it was true. The Flame dissipated and she slumped in his grip. He eased her onto the ground, letting her sit in the muck.
“I suggest you wait. Or would you rather have him reject you again?” Klavotesi let her wrists go as he stepped around her. “Our lesson is over. I have better things to do,” he called as he took off down the path, leaving Kaliel to her own devices.
• • •
Kaliel waited until it was dark. She spent the rest of the day curled up inside the watchtower and wouldn’t come down for dinner when Pux called her. He brought some bread and sugared yams when she was willing to open the door. He didn’t stay long, but he talked a bit about how he had to dance with Jack after dinner since she wasn’t in the mood. He liked talking about Jack, and apparently they had grown close while she was busy worrying about other things. He left when she yawned. She was tired, and even though she had a short nap, the pressure on her stomach and in her head was too much. The village crushed her. Being close to the Obsidian Flame and the rest of them suffocated her. She couldn’t face him again, not without proving to him that Krishani wouldn’t deny her help. Not when she was capable of fighting against the Horsemen, too.
She threw off the covers and didn’t bother changing into the traveling gown. If her shins showed, so be it. She wasn’t human and she wasn’t about to listen to their customs. She crept out of the watchtower and past the castle where Klavotesi slept. She found the stables and the brown mare. She rubbed its nose, cooing softly, wishing it would speak to her the way Umber used to. The horse stared at her with its one big eye and said nothing. She hung her head and pulled the horse out by the reins. The young boys used this horse during the day for practice, running laps around the outskirts of the village. They never strayed too far from those walls. They knew what kinds of dangers lurked in the forests. The villagers told all kinds of stories about giants and creatures in the waters–not merfolk like she had hoped but bigger serpentine creatures. They talked about the fae a lot and the other Children of Avristar. Most of the names she heard were girls she used to know from Araraema. The villagers never met the kinfolk from Evennses or the Brothers of Amersil. She always left early when they began talking about Avristar because it was too hard to listen to those stories when she hadn’t seen Luenelle, Desaunius, Atara or Melianna in moons. She was exiled from all the people she loved. Pux joyously took center stage, telling all sorts of funny stories of their kinfolk. He was sure to leave her out of it; her former folly was something she didn’t want the villagers to know about.
She mounted the mare and trotted carefully towards the gates, nodding to the guards at the tops of the towers to open them. She didn’t have to explain where she was going. Elwen didn’t have the same rules for her as he did the rest of the village. She was welcomed to stay, welcomed to go. She didn’t owe him anything.
The night air was sticky as she pushed the mare to a gallop and trod over well worn paths. She broke through the trees and paused on the mound, staring into the murky distance. The mountains were purple against the navy star studded sky and that’s where she headed. The last time she saw him in her dreams, he was in the mountains. She skipped alongside the tumultuous river, waves lapping against the shore and knocking sloppily against rocks. She passed a town with a smell like no other and closed her eyes to avoid the few leftover bits of human carnage. She didn’t want to know. The horse passed the scattered hearth so quickly she didn’t have to think about it for very long.
She found the same rocks and forced the scared mare across them. The horse tiptoed near the edge of the water and burst up the wide path. She was about to take the large, inclining path into the mountains when she saw tracks leading downwards, back to the water. Curiously she paused, confused because there were so many mismatched energies meeting up in one spot. Knots pooled in her
stomach as familiar fears hit her. The Horsemen had been in that spot. The Daed had been in that spot. If she hadn’t known his energy so well she would have assumed Crestaos had been there, too, but he hadn’t. She spied between the trees, and the mare took off galloping, loping around clusters of trees until they met the shallow end of the river, crossed it, and found a thin vein of a path leading down the rocks towards a beach hidden by thick sheets of mountain rock.
The mare was more than thirsty by the time they got there. Stray logs mucked up the beach, burnt to charcoal and rolled by the wind. Kaliel slipped off the mare and held it by the reins as it made a beeline for the water. Stars shimmered off its surface, and when she glanced at the sky a quarter moon smiled at her. She didn’t know if it was the same moon like the one on Avristar, but it looked the same, and because of what Klavotesi told her about Avristar existing on Terra physically, the way it existed physically on every one of the Lands of Men, she thought it might be the same moon.
And if it was, it was the only thing that remained the same.
She kicked around the sand, not sure where to go. Krishani wasn’t there, and her perceptions changed. She believed he was in the only mountain range on Terra, but with the stone Elwen gave him he could be anywhere. He could be on the other side of the planet, where it was rumored to be day instead of night. Or he could be on the other side of those rocks. She glanced around and noticed the tiny cabin tucked into the sheets of rock. She felt relieved to see it there, but something told her not to go inside. Another energy signature lingered–one she recognized. As she scoured the beach she realized why it was so familiar, why her senses led her there in the first place.
Tiki.
She sunk into the muck and looked at the horse helplessly, burying her face in her hands. She tried so hard to accept this life because it was the only one she had left, but no matter how hard she tried to convince herself, this wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted Avristar and Fire Festivals, talking trees and merfolk. She wanted the waterfall and the cave behind the falls. She wanted apple orchards, sparkling water, pheasant, and apple pie. She wanted the bards and their mesmerizing tunes. She wanted to dance all night in Krishani’s arms and she wanted to pass out next to him in the cave, knowing no matter what he would never surrender to the nightmares. He would never listen to the words of the Great Oak, the ones that told him to let her go.
She fell back in the sand, her eyes snapping shut as she tried to remember the life she used to live. She saw Krishani atop the white horse. He neared the beach and entered the cabin. Scuffling went on inside. A man fell, a splinter of wood piercing his neck. Krishani scrambled to his feet, pulled the man off the spike, and turned.
Kaliel saw them, the most horrendous things blotting out the sky–black shadowy creatures, humanoid forms, wisps of black energy creating their own self-contained storm.
She thrashed on the sand as they bit into him. He gripped the man’s hand and whispered the incomprehensible words she heard him say before. The man died in Krishani’s arms because Krishani killed him. She watched the Vultures take off into the sky, leaving Krishani sprawled out on the beach. She didn’t have to wonder what drove him to the point of insanity. She didn’t need to wonder what happened to him that was so bad he became the enemy.
She died, and it broke him.
* * *
29 - Poisonous Flowers
Something buzzed next to Kaliel’s ear when she woke up. She wasn’t sure what it was at first, and as she blinked at the hot sun on her face she forgot where she was. One minute she was on the beach, sprawled out in the place Krishani had killed someone, and the next she was waking up, locked in a cocoon of sand. Worse, when she tried to move she found she was trapped, her arms stuck firmly to her sides by thick, hardened sand. Strands of hair were plastered on her face, obstructing her from seeing exactly what was going on.
Tears pricked at her eyes as she realized nobody knew where she was. She didn’t heed anyone’s warnings about Terra, and now she was a prisoner. The incessant buzzing reached a crescendo. She told Klavotesi that she was ready to help Krishani with his fight against the Horsemen and she meant it. Following him in nightmares and knowing what he became because of her weren’t going to make her change her mind. All it did was give her the insatiable urge to change him back.
Crunching sounded beside her ears, but the buzzing didn’t stop. Humming started, like a hummingbird only higher-pitched and shrill. She wanted to cover her ears but her entire body from the shoulders down was encased in sand. She lifted her head enough to shake away curls and turned her head to the right.
A small stone jar sat haphazardly in the sand. That’s what was buzzing. It was only a few inches from her face and because of that she looked the other way. Another stone jar. This one was clicking. Knots pooled in her stomach as she wondered what could be in either of the jars, and a face appeared above hers, an upside-down, beautiful glass-like face.
Sun-spun strands of blonde hair framed the woman’s oval shaped face while perfectly smoothed out cheekbones supported her sparkling blue eyes. Her face was painted in white. Blue powder covered her eyelids, bright pink lipstick stained her lips, and black outlined her eyes. Even her blonde eyelashes were defined, long, and elegant, sweeping gracefully across her cheeks as she blinked.
“You’re awake,” she said, piqued, the sound grating.
Kaliel gulped. There were no words in her. All she could think about were the other Flames: Lotesse, Shezeel, Cossisea, and Tiki. She remembered how Crestaos and the Daed hunted them down one by one, locked them in catacombs, tortured them, and killed them. She remembered the way he came for her, made her writhe in pain before he even touched her, lacerations snaking through her ribcage and torso, lancing into her heart. She remembered that pain, and yet all she could feel locked in her sandy chamber was numbness. She tried to speak but the beautiful woman cut her off as she clapped her hands and held them near her ear. Kaliel noticed her ears were elongated, elven. That made her immortal. She also noticed as she craned her neck that the woman wore a dark blue velvet and satin gown with stained peacock feathers sown into the fabric. It showed off her cleavage while making her look resplendent.
If it weren’t for the buzzing, clicking, and sand cocoon, Kaliel might not have been alarmed.
“I have a proposition for you, Amethyst Flame,” the woman said, her voice screeching like nails against shale rock. She had an accent that made some words sound incomplete. Kaliel’s skin crawled at the sound, while her heart thudded at the way the woman addressed her: The Amethyst Flame. She kept her eyes open as the woman paced around the sand castle, shaking the jars slightly as she passed, her dress scraping along the sand. Kaliel struggled to free her hands.
“Who are you?” Kaliel asked. Her voice was as low as a whisper, trembling, but she tried to sound brave. Brave enough to die, brave enough to face whatever was in either of those jars.
The woman growled and kicked the sand, sending a pang across the girl’s shin. Kaliel squeezed her eyes shut and twisted her face up to try and protect herself from a blow, but it didn’t come. Instead the woman’s face hovered over hers, perplexed but pristine, showing no sign of the angry outburst.
“You know who you are. How could you not know who I am?” She frowned, lines creasing her forehead, her eyes, nose, and mouth. Even her cheeks sagged a bit, showing off her age.
Kaliel pursed her lips, not willing to speak anymore.
“I’m Cassareece. You know me, or at least you knew me.” She darted away from the Flame. “It’s such a shame you don’t remember. I used to bring you flowers when you were a little girl. I told you not to tell your father, and you never did.” Her face appeared again. “Why did you have to ruin everything?”
Kaliel had no idea what she was talking about. She squirmed, her arms getting looser as she struggled. She shot Cassareece a blank look. She didn’t have a father in Avristar; the land was her mother, her parent. She never had a father, not as far as she co
uld remember. Cassareece frowned.
“It’s not the First Era anymore, is it?”
Kaliel shook her head, only because if she didn’t Cassareece might knock over one of the jars and she’d know firsthand what the buzzing was, or the clicking.
Cassareece sighed. “That’s why Morgana looked so pale.” Kaliel’s eyes widened, and Cassareece caught the minute gesture. “You know Morgana?” she smirked. “You didn’t think I was one of them, did you?”
Kaliel didn’t know how to react. She rotated her hands, but it was no use. Every time she carved out a small bit of space it filled with more sand, locking her hands in. They weren’t exactly by her side anymore, but they were stuck.
“Would you like to know a secret?” Cassareece said. She crouched, her face hovering closer to Kaliel’s ear and subsequently closer to the stone jars. Kaliel’s nerves shot up, tremors coursing through her. She tried not to let Cassareece see her shake but it was useless. The woman with the breath that tasted like trough water had her lips at her ear.
“Morgana brought us back, and we’re going to destroy the lands.” She squeaked on the last word and drew away, abruptly clapping her hands. Both jars shook and Kaliel felt her stomach drop.
All of them. Mallorn warned her about the eleven members of the Valtanyana locked in Avrigost by High King Tor at the end of the First Era. They were never supposed to escape, except the Daed released Crestaos and Morgana followed. She brought the Horsemen for Krishani. Tears pooled in her eyes but she didn’t dare cry, whimper or scream.
Cassareece appeared again and she looked sad. “We have a problem.” Kaliel asked the question with her eyes. “You’re the problem. You—the rest of the Flames—they’ve always been the problem,” Cassareece continued.
Kaliel swallowed. A lump in her throat burned and she winced at the prickles, like shards of wood were scraping along her insides. “Then kill me.”
Vulture Page 23