Vulture

by Rhiannon Paille

  Kaliel’s voice trickled away while Krishani stayed, yelling at the guards to help. Hands curled around her ankles. She was delirious, all the strength she once had draining away. They moved her inside the village, and Krishani ordered them to bring her somewhere, to the stables. She didn’t know why. They lowered her onto a bed of hay. She kept thinking about horses, kept looking for their hooves near her head, wondering if they were going to crush her. She flinched at the air until someone cleared his throat and she stopped, lifting her heavy head to see who it was.

  Krishani was perched at the edge of the stall, his arms crossed, his expression hard. She couldn’t help it. The way the shadows ran off his face, he looked older, more muscular, and sexy as all hell. She tried to push away her feelings and find her tongue. He pressed his lips together, which only made her look at his mouth and wish for things she couldn’t have.

  “The cove.” She choked. “They’re all dead.”

  Krishani uncrossed his arms, alarm flashing across his face for a second before anger replaced it. “I told you not to go.”

  Shimma gasped for air, the pain in her stomach making it difficult to stay propped up on her elbows. “I was helping them.”

  “I thought you were going to Nimphalls,” Krishani barked.

  She sighed and fell into the hay, too weak to move. “Kuruny and Kazza went. I didn’t follow.”

  “And now those people are dead? Why?” Krishani snapped.

  Shimma didn’t need to look at him to know he was angry with her for coming, for staying, for being at the cove. She knew what he was thinking about. Rand. The man he killed purposefully, the man he fed to death. She was afraid of him because of that, but he looked different, closed off, happier. Memories of the wall of water and panicked villagers pierced her mind.

  “Flood,” she managed to say. It wasn’t quite like that; it crashed through the village like an explosion, eroding rocks, toppling over straw huts like they were as fragile as eggs. It pounded down the crevasse, washing away anything and everyone. The current sucked most of the villagers into the ocean, bringing them to its shadowy depths.

  “Natural deaths?” Krishani asked.

  Shimma thought about it. Nature was a harsh mistress on Terra; it didn’t have preference when it came to where it sent its waters, its winds, or its fire. She nodded, and Krishani turned away, muttering something about the villagers not being attacked. She lifted her head briefly and Kaliel was there, staring, her black hair trailing towards her waist. She was wearing the ivory dress Shimma remembered from Avristar, a black cloak around her shoulders. While that was the same, nothing else was. Kaliel looked at her with cold eyes, her hands clasped together in front of her. She held Shimma’s eyes for a moment before she tore away, following Krishani out of the stables.

  Shimma didn’t need to ask what that look meant. It meant Krishani was hers and she should remember it. Shimma fell back into the hay and let the darkness cover her.

  • • •

  Klavotesi whipped the reins and hollered at his stallion as he fought through the sheets of rain bursting from the sky. It hadn’t taken him long to trace the patterns of energy through the forest and end up somewhere in the mountains. It was faint, almost washed out by the rain, but something familiar about the pattern made him uncomfortable.

  He wanted to believe it wasn’t someone he knew from the village. It would be severely stupid of Elwen to find a better temporary hiding place for the Flames. Losing the Flames wasn’t a simple mistake. He let the stallion graze near the side of the road. He was already past the river. He wanted to keep moving. There was something in the mountains, something other than the massacre in the crown valley. He pulled the stallion’s head out of the bushes and trotted up the path, pausing at the downgrade of the forest. He curiously pulled the stallion down the hill, hit the shallow river, and crossed over the rocks.

  Krishani had been there before, and Pux; he recognized the feorn’s energy anywhere. He was proud of the progress both he and Kaliel were making. He couldn’t promise them it would be like Avristar—the land had a magic all its own—but he was certain they had come a long way in the time he trained them.

  Kaliel was better with theory than she was with practice, and Pux was the opposite. He had some interesting abilities Klavotesi failed to understand. Trying to teach him why his abilities worked was lost on him; he was a doer, not a thinker.

  Klavotesi pulled the stallion effortlessly through the thin, vein-like path that twisted and curled dangerously towards the shallow lake and the mossy beach. The last time he was there was a night he wouldn’t soon forget. His stallion recoiled, Klavotesi immediately snapped to attention. He coaxed the stallion to the shore and something told him the Flames were there. He didn’t mean himself and Tiki—that was a long time ago. He felt the others.

  He slipped off the horse and continued searching for something to tell him who took them. The sky was a mess of clouds and rain. While it was dark, it wasn’t quite nightfall yet. He had some time before it became too difficult to discern anything against the pitch black night.

  He traipsed through the sand in circles, passing the sand dune. He bent down and idly sifted through it, wet sand sticking to his fingers. He sighed; the energy was there, but the Flames weren’t.

  He stood, gawking at a few grains of blue sand mixed with the grayish beige flecks stretching towards the water. He doubled back, making careful, deliberate footprints in the sand, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion until he saw the shape of something sticking out of the water. He grimaced and pulled his robes over his ankles, enough to show off his boots as he waded in the shallow water. The item was only a few feet of from the shore, and he picked it up.

  The jolt of energy that ran through him almost knocked him over. He stumbled through the water, splashing water on his robes as he desperately tried to make it to the shore. Images took control of his mind; muffled conversations between a blonde woman and another pierced his mind. He fought to see who it was and what they were doing, but an image of the golden puzzle box flashed across his temples and dust rose into the sky. His foot hit the shore as the last image crossed his mind, and this one he couldn’t mistake.

  He fell, chills running up his spine. He shook his head, unable to believe what he was seeing. He hastily threw the stone jar away. It skidded across the sand. He ran his hands through his hair and knocked his hood off. He trusted her; he believed in her. She was supposed to be the one who would defeat the Valtanyana for good and bring peace to the Lands Across the Stars. He kept the prophecy locked away in his quarters, spent months deciphering the symbols. He wasn’t going to tell her because she needed to do it on her own. They would come for her, and she would find a way to change it.

  He felt sick to his stomach as he forced himself to his feet and grabbed the reins. He pulled the stallion to the cabin and tied it up outside. He went inside and fell on the bed, his robes soaked, his mind ablaze with the staggering revelation.

  Kaliel betrayed the Flames.

  He shook with regret and fear as he tried to figure out what to do. On Amaltheia he was judge, jury, and executioner. He killed men for lesser crimes than this. He sentenced them to hangings, decapitation, death by Vulture. He was ruthless when it came to the rules and he was never wrong. How she was able to fool him for so long, pretend she was innocent, incapable, naïve. She was a Flame, and she was honorable. She wasn’t destructive, vindictive, self-serving or desperate like this.

  He ground his teeth together, prepared to return to Castle Tavesin to do what he had to do. Confront her, ask her why she did it. And then he had to punish her as though she were anyone else.

  He opened the door but stopped. His mouth dropped open as he stared at the spaces between the flakes of snow blurred against land, turning it to a white sheet. He closed the door and leaned against it. There was no way he could fight through the storm. No way he’d be able to get back to the castle until it cleared up.

  He was trapped.


  * * *

  38 - Apocalypse

  They were a mass of misshapen silhouettes against the canvas of a clear blue sky. Sloping edges of sand dunes stretched out below their feet, heat making waves in the air. Kaliel curled into a ball on the sand, her fingers pressing in as the heat warmed her insides. Grains of sand stuck to her cheeks, smelling like sea and algae and the remnants of water that used to be there. All she could do was watch as Morgana with her ankle-length black hair and bloodied hands skidded down the hill towards her. Her black eyes shone in the afternoon light; her face was scrunched up in a scowl. She took careful, deliberate steps towards Kaliel, making tiny foot prints in the sand. The wind whipped across the desert and her light blue nightgown waved in the wind. Kaliel wanted to wipe her own profusely sweaty brow, salty beads of perspiration running down her face and accumulating above her lips. Her eyes filled with the same terror she held for Crestaos, a terror she had come accustomed to feeling when the Valtanyana were near. Only she had never been afraid of Morgana. Curiosity got the best of her. Morgana didn’t look dangerous; she was small and harmless.

  Morgana cast a glance in the direction of the shapes behind her. Steps away from Kaliel, her lips curved into a half smile. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and stopped, towering above the Flame. Kaliel’s heart plummeted. There was something different about Morgana, different and so distinct she’d never be able to get the thought out of her mind. It was a smell, like horse hair, blood and rotting flesh. Kaliel gagged, her stomach dry heaving involuntarily. She was paralyzed, heat worrying its way into her bones, stinging her skin with red welts and blisters. She scrabbled to grab the sand, her fingers curling into it imperceptibly, and Morgana laughed.

  “I awakened them,” she said, pressing her hands together. Blood squished out through her fingers, and Kaliel felt like throwing up. She was parched, her tongue a dry slug in her mouth. Her eyes shot daggers in Morgana’s direction, but the girl didn’t even register her attempt at reproach. Morgana bent down, her breath like spoiled meat hanging off her tongue. “Not all of them are here.”

  Kaliel stared at the sand. She didn’t want to talk about Cassareece, buzzing jars, dust, or puzzle boxes. She didn’t want to remember the lake or the cabin or the retreat into the woods. A whimper rose in her throat and she fought against letting it out.

  “Did you think you’d be smart? Capture Cassareece?” Morgana taunted. Her mouth was slack, her lips wet, saliva dripping off her chin.

  Kaliel shook her head. She was sure Cassareece had the Flames. She left them in the sand. Her stomach growled angrily, sloshing and seasick. Her cheeks flushed green as Morgana lowered herself and pressed her slimy tongue to her cheek. She left a snail’s trail of saliva on her. Chills rippled through Kaliel. She wanted to run, wanted to break out of the holds keeping her chained to the dream, prisoner to the odd little girl.

  Morgana bounced to her feet, laughing as Kaliel glowered at her. She clapped and smiled, her eyes sparkling. “It doesn’t matter, you know. Cassareece will come home to me, and I’ll come for him … and them …” She glanced at the silhouettes on the horizon. “They’ll come for you.”

  Kaliel tensed, her muscles bunching into knots. She tried to crunch herself into a smaller ball, not wanting to know what the rest of them were like. Crestaos was ruthless, Morgana was insane, and Cassareece was manipulative. She didn’t need to know about the others; she trembled to the bone at the thought of what they’d do to her. She lost to them once before; she couldn’t face them again, knowing she’d fail.

  Morgana twisted on her heel and walked back to the silhouettes, raising a hand in the air and snapping as she reached the incline of the dune.

  Kaliel’s eyes opened; her limbs were stiff. She was in the cabin, her back pressed against Krishani’s side. His steady breaths were like the tide. She put a hand to the side of her head, wiping away the imaginary saliva on her cheek. There was nothing there, but she slid her hand down her face anyway. She glanced at the boy she loved and the guilt deepened. She couldn’t let Morgana have him. She wouldn’t let the Valtanyana destroy everything she worked so hard for.

  Where was Cassareece?

  She moved the quilts aside and took one last glance at Krishani’s perfect abs, the line of his jaw, the shape of his lips before tiptoeing across the floor and sliding her slippers on. She opened the door, but a cold breeze hit her dead on, making her feel naked in her nightgown. She closed it, glancing at Krishani, who grabbed the blanket and turned onto his side. She pulled the cloak off the wicker chair, threw it over her shoulders, and slung the hood over her head.

  The wind was brisk and the sky was full of dark clouds. The air smelled like rain. Barely any light lit the village; a few torch flames flapped wildly. She took the stairs carefully and rounded the watchtower. It was one of those nights where all she could think about was the lake, the lake and the merfolk and the depths she could swim to with them cooing around her. She hastened her steps to the lake, nowhere near as beautiful as the one surrounding Avristar, hoping at the very least she could dip her feet in the water.

  She stopped short when she reached the mound behind the castle. It crumbled on one end, rocks spreading across the grassy shore, showing signs of erosion. Someone sat on the mound, knees pulled up to her chest, chin resting on them. Her gaze was on the lake, blonde hair falling against her back.

  Shimma glanced up as Kaliel padded across the grass and sat down. She didn’t want to talk to Shimma. Things weren’t good between them. The last thing she remembered about Shimma was confronting her outside the castle, taunting her about her relationship with Krishani. And there was the way he said they were friends, that she helped him. Kaliel wondered what had happened between them when she was dead.

  “Can’t sleep either?” Shimma asked.

  Kaliel copied Shimma’s pose. “I woke up,” she said, her tone cold.

  “Are you having nightmares again?”

  Kaliel closed her eyes. “How did you know?”

  Shimma shrugged. “I know a lot of things.”

  Kaliel pressed her lips into a line. “Why did you come back?”

  Shimma sighed. Kaliel took another look at her and noticed her puffy eyes; she looked as though she was mourning. “There’s something coming. I can feel it. Something isn’t right.”

  Her stomach lurched. A million things were wrong outside of the perfection Kaliel tried to build for herself, but she didn’t know where to begin explaining Morgana and the Valtanyana and Cassareece to Shimma. She let out an undecipherable response and pressed her lips to her nightgown.

  “I wish I didn’t have to come back,” Shimma said.

  Kaliel gulped. “Why?”

  Shimma took a deep breath, keeping her eyes on the lake. “I saw what he became after you … after Crestaos …”

  Kaliel lifted her eyes only to see Shimma fighting back tears of her own. Her stomach filled with knots as she thought back to the volcano, their exile, and Crestaos, the one who started all of this. Krishani refused to talk about what had happened. He refused to tell her about the black mark on his hand, how he ended up facing Crestaos, how he won.

  Shimma let out a long breath. “All he wanted to do was protect the Flames. He wouldn’t even consider moving on, not until he knew the rest of them were safe.”

  A lump formed in Kaliel’s throat as tears stung her eyes, burning her cheeks with their heat. She moved to her feet, shaking as she backed away from Shimma, but the other girl was on her feet, too; her eyes boring into Kaliel’s.

  “I don’t mean to scare you,” she began. “But you have no idea how much it hurt him. You don’t know the things he did, the things he said …” Her face was full of concern, an emotion Kaliel couldn’t understand. She wanted to put as much distance as she could between herself and Shimma because Shimma was with him when he didn’t know if he would ever see her again. She hugged her arms to her chest.

  “I don’t want to know,” she whispered.

/>   Shimma’s eyes blazed. “You don’t want to know who he killed?” She sized Kaliel up. “He almost killed Aulises.”

  Kaliel ran. There wasn’t any other way to avoid the words tumbling out of Shimma’s mouth. No way to escape the haunting memories locked in her mind. Kaliel felt Shimma’s energy spill out, felt the sadness lurking deep within her. She also felt something else in Shimma’s energy, something that disgusted her. She loved him. She loved Krishani and it didn’t matter if he loved her back or not; it still hurt like she was on fire.

  Kaliel didn’t want to go back to the watchtower and face Krishani. She didn’t want to ask him about Shimma and their time together. She went to find the one person who might understand what she did and why she did it. She didn’t know Krishani was the one who found the Flames, the ones she so callously handed over to Cassareece, the ones that would stand against them in the war.

  She was so afraid to tell anyone but she was ready to burst. She was holding the weight of the guilt on her chest, hiding the rotten person she had become. She gave away the only hope they had against the Valtanyana.

  And she loathed herself for it.

  • • •

  She reached the barn and clambered up the rungs, falling on her hands and knees. She wheezed and pressed her hands against her chest, tears falling on the planks below her.

  “Pux,” she croaked. She tried to catch her breath but faltered, her elbows sinking to the floor boards.

  “Kaliel?” He sounded far away. There was a shuffling sound like he was pawing his way through the hay bales and a hand was placed on her shoulder. Kaliel stood and leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his furry shoulder. He tensed underneath her. He hugged her, then he put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away. His eyes searched hers, and she saw the strain on his face. She grimaced and moved to the back of the loft. Somewhere she could say what she had to say where she wouldn’t be heard.

  She wrung her hands out, pain lancing through her like an arrow shot through her chest. She turned to find Pux behind her, sitting on a hay bale, his chin resting on his hand.