Justice

by Rhiannon Paille

  He paused and looked at the sky, noting the position of the single moon. “We need to make camp soon,” he called to Krishani and Pux, who shuffled slowly through the moss and lichens littering the unclear path.

  “I’m famished,” Pux grumbled.

  Mallorn stopped on a large rock. It was uneven, slanted to one side, but it provided an ample look out.

  “This will do.” He climbed down and circled it. On the other side the rock hung over tall grass in a small clearing. They could easily conceal themselves in the thick grass and position themselves under the rock for shelter. Mallorn dropped his bag and began scouring the land for immediate dangers.

  • • •

  Pux sat down beside Krishani. He fell exhausted onto his side, using the damp and muddy blanket to cocoon himself in warmth. “Oh,” he moaned. “Forget the food, I feel sick.”

  Krishani dropped his bag, opening the drawstrings to reveal the loaf of bread. As silly as it was, it reminded him of Kaliel, mostly because it was from Avristar and also because she would often watch him in the kitchen slaving away with Hernadette and the other servants. He broke a less than modest piece off for himself and left the rest in the cloth. Part of him was exhausted from the hours of trekking through the unforgiving woods, but another part of him couldn’t feign that sleep wouldn’t be enjoyable.

  Mallorn returned, dropping a handful of sticks and small rocks on the ground. “This will have to do,” he said. He bent down and opened his own bag, drawing out the flint stone. After arranging the stones and wood he struck the flint and sparked a flame. It devoured the twigs instantly and within minutes it turned to smoke.

  Krishani grimaced as he took a bite of bread and explored what else was in his bag. By the looks of it, an extra set of gray robes, the usual blankets and tools. His hand closed around a dagger and he thought about pulling it out, but left it. He stared at the dismal remnants of the fire and at Mallorn, whose face was hidden by shadows. He imagined a defeated expression on the elder’s face.

  Krishani gritted his teeth and stood, taking the last bit of bread in his mouth. He swallowed hard. “I’ll see what I can find.” He ducked into the waist-high grasses and turned towards the path they had emerged from. The meadow might have been small, but the forests around them were thick. After scouring the ground for nothing he could see with his naked eye, he sighed and turned to the trees. Most of them were birch trees with fantastic wood-burning qualities. His hands curled around the trunk of one and moved into the skinny branches. There was no pulse in the land, no voice. He pulled on the branch inconsiderate of its emotions and heard an almost silent crack. He pulled downwards, listening to the branch whine as it dislodged from the tree. It slid off the base and Krishani noted it was quite long, many twigs extending from it. He ignored the purposeful damage and walked back to the rock, plucking the twigs from the limb. He rounded the rock and set the bundle gently into the grass. Without thinking he pulled a few large strands of grass out of the ground and twisted them into the center of the rocks.

  Mallorn watched with dissonance as Krishani made do with the dry grass and branches. He tapped the flint against the rock and sparked the fire. It came to a startling blaze and Krishani glanced at Mallorn. The elder had a forlorn expression on his face. He waited a few moments until the fire was stable. Krishani settled into the dried mud and pulled a blanket out of the bag. Mallorn silently followed and both of them pushed their backs against the rocks, the fire between them, the feorn asleep in the corner.

  “Why did you come with me?” Krishani asked after a long pause. The fire crackled quietly between them, causing shadows to cast half Mallorn’s face in darkness, the other half in bright orange light.

  Mallorn sighed and looked at the grass. “I don’t blame you for what happened to Kaliel.”

  “But you were angry.”

  Mallorn shut his eyes, a mournful expression crossing his face. “I was afraid for her. She was so …”

  Krishani smiled slightly. “Unexpected.”

  “Uninhibited.”

  “Inescapable.”

  “Inquisitive.”

  “Unexplainable,” Krishani finished. He looked at Mallorn and found understanding in the old man’s returned gaze. He wasn’t better, but felt less inclined to rip his insides out. It was different being on Terra, like he could be anonymous to a point. Nobody knew who he was or what he had been through. What he had done. The lack of scrutinizing gazes was a blessing in disguise. They wouldn’t even suspect him if he caused it to rain or cast lightning on their trees. The humans probably wouldn’t care; their trees didn’t talk.

  “There was no one like Kaliel in all the lands. That is fact,” Mallorn continued.

  Krishani shook his head. “I won’t let the Valtanyana win.”

  Mallorn narrowed his eyes. “Does that mean you accept your fate?”

  Krishani moved his gaze to the fire. “I want Crestaos dead. Even if I have to kill him myself.”

  Mallorn let out a shaky breath. “You should be wary of your words. None of us are strong enough to face the Valtanyana.”

  Krishani looked at the grass. “I have nothing to lose.”

  “Crestaos … isn’t the only one Tor trapped in Avrigost,” Mallorn croaked, stumbling over his words.

  Krishani’s head snapped to the old man as he shifted his weight on the ground. “How many more are there?” His heart began drumming wildly in his chest, fear pooling into his arms and legs, making his knees tremble.

  Mallorn nodded and reached for the bag. “Would you hand me the bread?” Krishani turned behind him and handed him the cloth with the bread inside of it. Mallorn broke off a small piece and took a bite. Krishani waited in anticipation.

  “We call them the Valtanyana, but they go by different names in different places. There were eleven of them.” Mallorn took another nervous bite and chewed on it for a long time.

  Krishani found himself awed. Not about the Valtanyana, he had heard those stories before, but it had been thousands of years since they were silenced. The stories were told because of the disarray they left behind. Factions of the Daed in the Lands of Men still believed in them, waited for their return. Nobody in Avristar thought it was possible. He put his hands in front of the fire to warm them and saw the black marks trailing up the back of his hand, the wisps of darkness almost reaching his wrist. He let out a guttural gasp and shoved his hands underneath him. “There were so many.”

  Mallorn nodded. “Tor was supposed to be the twelfth, but by the time they found him, he was different. He rebelled against them. And he won.”

  Krishani let the words sink in, but all he could hear in Mallorn’s voice were more odds stacked against him. Crestaos swept through Avristar without a second thought to the people and he found Kaliel in the blink of an eye. The kinfolk and the elders were powerless against him.

  Kaliel was never strong enough to beat him.

  And there were more like him out there.

  “How many of them have escaped Avrigost?”

  Mallorn shrugged. “I don’t know. The Daed have existed since before the Valtanyana were defeated. I suppose Crestaos was released by one of their factions.”

  Krishani took a deep breath. “Isn’t Tor aware? Isn’t he going to do something about it?”

  Mallorn shifted his weight on the stone and pulled the blanket over his shoulders. His grayish white hair was frayed around the edges and hung loosely to his shoulders. He looked so different on Terra. His skin was whiter, full of wrinkles, his nose gaudy and huge, eyes sunken into their sockets, clouded blue. “He has warned the Lords of the Lands there isn’t more he can do.”

  Krishani pulled his knees to his chest and rested his forehead on them. “How did Tor defeat them? Didn’t he have an army?”

  Mallorn shook his head. “I don’t know his secret. I realize, however, that he was unable to kill them, and that’s why Crestaos has returned.”

  Fear seeped into Krishani’s heart. He wanted to be at
the top of the mountain when it exploded. He wanted to live out the last minutes of her life with her, but instead the last memory anyone had of Kaliel was lost with the beast that forced her death. As much as he hated to admit it, he wasn’t angry with the feorn. Pux wasn’t the last person to see her before she died; he was just the last person she knew. He was angry with Crestaos, angry with him for forcing her to sacrifice herself. Crestaos was the only other person who knew what she was like in her last moments of life. Krishani felt a sudden urge to find him, quelled by the thought Crestaos might not be the only enemy anymore.

  “He’s only one, not eleven.” He tried to sound brave but his voice cracked and tears streak down his face.

  “Aye,” Mallorn said. He looked weary and tired.

  “Are you sure he didn’t take her?”

  Mallorn met his gaze. “I hope not,” he admitted.

  Krishani gulped, dread washing over him. He pulled the blanket around himself and closed his eyes, letting darkness take him under.

  * * *

  13 - Ancestor

  Krishani woke to the sound of footsteps. He flinched and opened his eyes, scanning the area for signs of the others. The night passed in restlessness, the land too barren and empty to ward off nightmares. He felt the wisps of blackness crawling up his arm, aching to pull him into visions of souls in limbo, fighting to leave the plane of existence. On Avristar he was taught when someone died, their soul went to the Great Hall where it waited for the next life. Visions of the black thing he saw in the village clouded his mind. No one deserved to be taken by those things.

  Pux moaned and rolled over, pushing himself onto his elbows. Krishani frowned at the feorn. Pux looked different now that they weren’t on Avristar. His animal legs appeared skinny and malnourished, while what could be seen of his skin through the hair looked ashen.

  “Ahdunie,” Krishani greeted in the native Avristar tongue. He pressed his lips together and realized he would need to curb his language if he was to be accepted.

  “Good morrow.” Pux stretched, yawning and glancing at the fireplace. “Did you cook last night?”

  He shook his head. “No, we ate the bread.”

  “Oh, is there any left?”

  Krishani handed him the bread and stole a glance at Mallorn. The space on the other side of the fire was empty. He scrambled to his feet and climbed into the tall grass. Mallorn stood on the rock, staring across the land before them.

  “That animal sleeps long,” he said.

  Krishani said nothing. He climbed the rock and sat beside Mallorn. His stomach was a muddle of grief as he thought about what the day would bring. “How much longer?”

  “If I am precise, we will arrive by dusk.” He held up a hand to his forehead, attempting to see through the trees and brush that blocked their way. “But we must stay off the main roads. That will make this difficult.”

  Krishani grunted a response and went to check on Pux. He sat by the burnt branches munching on bread. He looked at Krishani with big brown innocent eyes. He had eaten almost half of the second loaf.

  “I have no idea when we will find more food,” Pux said.

  Krishani sighed as Mallorn appeared behind him. He slung his bag over his shoulder. Krishani hesitantly grabbed the other pack and stuffed the wool blankets into it. He secured the strap across his mid section and looked at Mallorn with a forlorn expression.

  “I don’t know if I can do this.” No matter where he was, part of him wanted to run back to the shore where the boat had disappeared into the mist and beg for it to reappear. Even if Kaliel had told him to go, even if his duty as the Ferryman was inevitable, he still loathed the idea.

  Mallorn only turned to the east. The sun hid behind overcast clouds. Dark gray wisps floated by. Mallorn descended a small grassy hill and treaded on a thin forest path through the skinny trees. Soon they were camouflaged by the dense cover of spruce and birch, the main road paces away. Hours passed in mundane conversation. They went by a rocky field, crossed a shallow ravine and padded through wide spaces between trees. They stopped for lunch and ate the rest of the bread. Krishani almost refused to continue.

  “What will Elwen tell me that I don’t know?” His shoulder pressed against the trunk of a tree as he loudly exhaled. His foot smudged the dirt as he glared at Mallorn.

  “Why,” Mallorn replied. The Elder pulled the drawstrings together and slung the bag onto his back. He looked at the sky and Krishani followed his gaze, noticing the sun trailing behind them, peeking through cracks in the clouds. Mallorn froze. “Halt!” he said in a hoarse whisper. He crouched to the ground as Krishani and Pux dove into the forest brush.

  Krishani listened to the forest around him, birds chirping, leaves rustling, and footsteps that weren’t theirs pounding on the ground. Mallorn put a finger to his lips, his eyes meeting with Krishani’s.

  The hunters neared the path, two of them on foot with nothing but daggers and light clothing covered by cheap armor. Krishani peered through the bushes; they were less than fifty paces away. He watched them pass into the thicker bushes to the north and disappear. He waited several moments and closed his eyes, counting the seconds until they were safely out of earshot. It was evident there was a village nearby and the hunters were out to catch the daily dinner.

  “Were those …” Pux whispered.

  “Humans,” Krishani finished. He had seen them in his visions before. The Ferryman was human, or so he seemed; it was hard to tell when his face was obscured by blurriness in most of the dreams. He pulled himself out of the brush and dusted himself off, trying to blot out memories of Avristar, the times Kaliel had pressed him to talk about his nightmares. Her voice was enough to make him hate everything he was.

  “We better hurry up through this patch or we will be spotted,” Mallorn grunted. He stalked to the east and crossed the path the hunters had taken. It was wide and seemed to be a path well-trodden by foot. Mallorn narrowed his eyes as he continued to forge his own path through the woods.

  Pux stumbled along and tripped on his own foot. He let out a cry and Krishani glared at him. The sound died in his throat. The feorn rubbed his toe and winced at the pain while Mallorn continued without any words.

  “Come on,” Krishani said, towering over him. He didn’t have time to understand the feorn; his emotions were getting in the way of befriending him properly. He tried to forget the fact Pux had seen Kaliel in the Village of the Shee, he had been there moments before she awakened Avred. He needed to forget those thoughts because Terra was a foreign land and Pux was frightened. All they had was each other and the bleak future ahead of them. And answers Krishani wasn’t sure he really wanted.

  Pux grasped the elven’s outstretched hand and came to his feet. The feorn began picking burrs out of his fur. Krishani turned, unable to watch, and caught up to Mallorn. He heard Pux whispering under his breath, and his heart dropped. Pux was still trying to transport home. The feorn didn’t want to be there anymore than he did. He couldn’t blame him. He picked up a handful of leaves, crunching them in his left palm as he stepped in line with Mallorn.

  “Where is that animal?” Mallorn asked, his voice gruff.

  “Trailing behind.” Krishani paused. He thought he heard water rushing. He quickened his pace, thinking about the dream of the boy. Chills snaked down his arms as he reached the banks. He pressed his hands to his thighs, breathing hard. White tufts curled over rocks and fell into mini whirlpools that smoothed out along a bed of colorful pebbles. It wasn’t the river from his dreams, but it was the first time he had seen one up close. It wasn’t what he expected. Only a few paces wide and not very deep, big rocks jutted out in the center as crisp clear water babbled around them.

  “Gotts River,” Mallorn said. Krishani thought with all his time as a hermit he must know the lay of the Lands of Men by heart. “Castle Tavesin is not far from here.”

  Pux caught up and grimaced at the water. “How will we cross?” Pux asked, his eyes wide.

  Mallorn glare
d at him as Krishani dropped his bag and removed his cloak. He sighed and tucked it into the bag. Mallorn did the same and Pux watched as Mallorn assessed the shallowest point and dipped his foot in the water. It pooled around his shin and he looked back at Pux. “Follow my steps and it won’t be deeper than this.”

  Krishani grabbed the packs and waited for Pux to follow, but the feorn froze on the banks, arms crossed, eyes following the rushing water. Mallorn held out a hand and Krishani was grateful he didn’t have to help Pux. He wasn’t even sure he could be friends with the feorn yet.

  “Come before we are seen,” Mallorn hissed at him.

  Pux cautiously took Mallorn’s hand, crossing the river in seconds. Krishani followed, both bags held above his head. He threw them on the ground and crawled onto the shore. The forest hit a downward slope, the trees angled up amidst the downgrade. Mallorn threw his bag over his back again as a ripple of wind whipped across the lands. Krishani pulled out the cloak and fastened it around his shoulders. Mallorn was halfway down the hill when he secured the bag on his back. Moments later they stumbled into a large field, rocks and boulders littering the rolling hills and green grass.

  In the distance Krishani could make out a large stone wall. A well-worn dirt path led to the gates. He stiffened, fear settling in his gut as he thought about what was beyond the gates. Mallorn on the other hand didn’t waste time. He hastily took to the dirt path like he was unafraid of being seen out in the open. Krishani followed silently, glancing behind him to make sure Pux was still there. The feorn slowly shuffled along, his eyes scouring the land. Krishani threw on his hood, keeping his eyes to the ground.

  “These are Tavesin’s lands,” Mallorn said as they passed something that resembled a wooden cart.

  Krishani would have breathed a sigh of relief, but his stomach doubled up in knots at the mention of his ancestor. He paid attention to the gray and decaying day, the sky overhead giving no heed to whether it was midday or nightfall. He had no idea how long it had taken them to get there.