Justice

by Rhiannon Paille

  Krishani picked up the sword and lantern. He went to check for a sign the man was still alive. A jagged splinter jutted out of the man’s neck. Krishani recoiled. He bent over him, listening to his shallow breaths. Panicking, he threw his sword into the scabbard and moved towards the horse. It had its head buried in the water. Krishani quickly tucked the lantern into the folds of the knapsacks and turned to the man.

  A dark pool of blood seeped under his cheek. Krishani gulped as he approached, his expression mangled with remorse. He grabbed the man by the shoulders and pulled him off of the wooden spike. It made a thick, slurping sound as the spike dragged through the tender flesh. The man gasped and shook as Krishani dragged him onto the beach. The man glanced into his eyes and seemed to know it was the end.

  Krishani cursed as his stomach heaved in fits. The familiar nausea set in as he took the man’s hand and waited. He tried to pretend he wasn’t there. The horse neighed and Krishani realized he forgot to tie it up. He couldn’t lose the Flame if things got nasty and the horse decided to run off. He opened his eyes enough to see the horse’s hooves. He scrambled over to it and tried to avoid the blackness growing in the sky. Vultures approached from over the tops of the mountains, from the forests, from the sky. He pulled the reins taut, but the horse froze. Krishani watched in horror as the Vultures swept around the man in successions, threatening to take him the moment his soul left the body. Krishani dropped his hand to his side where he felt sticky blood oozing from the stab wound.

  It is your time now.

  In his mind’s eye he saw the dark brown eyes of Davlin Tavesin staring at him. He wanted to scream at the Vultures, but it wouldn’t help. Instead, he growled at the horse and forced it to move towards the cabin. He hastily tied the reins to the porch rail and turned.

  The Vultures swarmed, waiting for the man to die. Krishani stifled the frostbite that wound up his arms and around his neck as he approached the man. He passed through the hoard of Vultures, prickly cold creeping up his spine. It made the back of his neck feel like it was being stabbed by thousands of tiny needles. He knelt over the man, wincing at the pain. His shoulder throbbed, the disease twisting around his armpit and trailing down his torso. He gulped. The Vultures begged him with silent whispers to give in, let them devour the soul, let them devour him. He fought back the grief washing over him. He was the reason the man was dying, he was guilty. Davlin never saved anyone, but he never killed anyone either. He wouldn’t feel remorse if he became a Vulture. Mallorn wasn’t here to stop him. He could do it. He pressed his tongue to his palette to stifle a cry as the biting cold hit his thighs and sent shockwaves of ice through him. If he let them win, the Valtanyana would win. What about the Flames? What would the Lands Across the Stars become if the Valtanyana had all of them? If they had Kaliel? Krishani sucked in a breath even though he was ready to pass out. He leaned closer to the man.

  “Amenally nawva callen armalta,” he whispered into the man’s ear. The body jerked, his chest rising, his mouth open as he let out an audible cry. It was somewhere between a gasp and a whine. Krishani watched tremors rock the body, furiously forcing the soul to escape. It was over. Wispy smoke rose into the sky as frostbite licked at his insides, turning them to solid briquettes. The force of the Vultures knocked Krishani away. He fell back in the sand, lacerations whipping his stomach.

  The boy sprawled out on the beach, incapacitated, watching white smoke rise into the air. The Vultures went after it, but there was an invisible barrier, one they couldn’t penetrate. Krishani traced the patterns of the smoke as it pressed against the night sky. He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them, the soul was gone, the Vultures fading away.

  He heard his rapid, panicked breaths as he lay on the beach shaking. The effects of the frostbite wore off, his insides melting into fire as they thawed. He cringed as the pain encompassed him, tears escaping the corners of his eyes. He never meant to kill the man. His eyelids slipped shut as the last of his energy fell, leaving him in nothing but darkness.

  • • •

  The sun was too bright. It made Krishani’s eyes burn, red and yellow splotches roaming beneath the thin lids. He moaned, and fought for consciousness. His limbs felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. When he tried to lift himself off the sand it felt like he was lifting a horse. He managed to pull himself up and everything spun. He fell back into the muddy sand and squeezed his eyes shut. So that was what the Vultures did when someone was dying. They swarmed like locusts, blotting out the sky, covering their prey in darkness. He stomach flip-flopped as fear hit him. He never wanted any of this ugly life, fighting against things he knew nothing about. More than ever he understood Kuruny’s words and the reasons why she was adamant he would die in the Lands of Men. The danger was incessant, the realm dead on the inside because of the treachery of its inhabitants. Terra would never be a peaceful realm; it would always be plagued by thieves and killers. The Vultures would exist until the end of time. Ten thousand years would pass and it wouldn’t matter. Terra would always need a Ferryman.

  The ache in his heart was too thick to ignore. He wanted to go home to Avristar and find Kaliel’s shimmering white hair under the soft sun. He wanted to run his fingers through it, pull her closer to him, protect her from all the darkness plaguing the lands. He wanted her death to be a dream and reality to be nothing but a nightmare. He drifted back to sleep, explosions ringing in his ears, and he snapped awake. He fought against his stiff limbs. His legs were entwined with the man he had killed and he gasped. His stomach heaved and he vomited on the sand. He shakily brought himself to his feet and stumbled towards the horse. He hadn’t forgotten about the lantern.

  As he braced himself on the side of the horse he lifted the flap of the knapsack. The orb rested inside the lantern. It was dim. Krishani frowned and his logic failed him. Kaliel had been adamant Tiki was in a lantern. She knew the Flame didn’t have a body. Krishani couldn’t understand what that meant, but staring into the orb he was reminded of Kaliel’s Avristar Birthstone. Tiki was like that, conscious, but non-physical.

  He stared at it for what seemed like forever. It stirred, its glow moving from dim to faint and he jumped.

  “Who are you?”

  Krishani thought he heard the orb whispering, but he shook his head and blotted out the words. Her voice was like chimes shimmering on the wind, words slurred together in commotion.

  “Who are you?”

  Chimes attacked Krishani’s ears and he staggered from the horse, his head sick with vertigo. He glanced at the lake, a shimmering silver sheet in the bright afternoon sun. After moments of disorientation he straightened and looked at the little thing. He picked up the lantern and gazed at the Flame.

  “I’m … Krishani …” he said, caution lacing his tone. He thought of the rest of that sentence—of Amersil—but that wasn’t true anymore. He was a Tavesin, but it sounded all wrong. For now he was just Krishani, from nowhere, belonging to no one.

  The Flame responded by glowing a brilliant orange and Krishani was both alarmed and confused. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open.

  “She told me about you.”

  Stabs attacked his heart. There was no doubt in his mind this was Tiki. She was both unique and important. All of his menace abated as he moved to the cabin. He sat on the bed and put her on the nightstand.

  “Is your name Tiki?” he asked.

  The Flame beamed. “Yes!”

  “Where is Kaliel?”

  Tiki went dark again, as though she had retreated within herself. All that remained was a coppery orange light like rust. Krishani’s stomach churned. He ran his hands through his hair and buried his head in his lap.

  “Something bad happened to her, but something worse happened to the others.”

  Krishani lifted his head. She burned a faint deep orange, barely visible.

  “Ro tulten lle,” Krishani said. He meant to say it in another way, but the words came out flat and monotone. He rubbed his hands along h
is breeches, wincing at the aching pain in his thighs. He glanced at Tiki, who shone a bit brighter.

  “I have been waiting for him,” she whispered.

  Krishani gave her a half-smile. Crestaos could never hurt her the way he hurt the others. There was nothing about her he could torture. All he could do was imprison her and fight to learn her secrets.

  Just like Kaliel, Tiki could evade Crestaos.

  The thought made him hopeful for the first time in days.

  * * *

  19 - The Blossoming

  Beltane festivals were different, less formal. More of the kinfolk came from Amersil, Evennses and Araraema. Games were set up in the courtyard, prizes to be won. Lady Atara and Lord Istar spent conversed with the kinfolk, sharing grand stories of the old days in Avristar.

  And there were the shee and the centaurs.

  The two tribes came from Nandaro. Neither of the tribes made the journey to the Samhain festival, but they couldn’t resist the royal city in springtime.

  “I trust your lessons are going well?” Adoron asked.

  Krishani and Adoron stood in the Grand Hall near the archway, both of them surveying the organized chaos. Krishani glanced at him. He was hardly paying attention to his former mentor from Amersil. His eyes idly trailed over the decorated tables inside the Grand Hall. “Aye, Istar is a fantastic teacher,” he said. He gave Adoron a fake smile. Krishani knew it was customary for kinfolk to sit with others from their province, but he wanted to sit next to Kaliel.

  “Aye, that he is. You will have to try the seed again you know,” Adoron said. It was no secret the Brotherhood of Amersil practiced a slightly different tradition. Making a seed grow was one of their earlier tests, meant to show the student how to shape the land with their thoughts.

  Krishani groaned. Any time he had for practice he spent with Kaliel. He turned away and gazed at the courtyard. Kinfolk dueled with wooden swords, while some huddled in groups listening to the elders tell stories. Others sang, while more were lost in thought, attempting to solve riddles.

  “Aye,” he said in response to Adoron’s scrutiny.

  Adoron clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a withering look before leaving his side. Krishani thought he heard him say something, but it was muffled by the crowd. After watching the festivities for awhile longer, he was interrupted by a giggle. He turned from the courtyard and his gaze fell on Kaliel as she descended the stairs. The soft rose-colored dress she wore was probably the most stunning thing he had ever seen on her. It was short like her ivory dresses and tied around her neck. Krishani took her hand in his. He kissed her soft knuckles as he led her away from the stairs and into the Grand Hall. He had no words to describe the way she looked—it was incredible.

  Kaliel nudged him in the ribs and he dropped her hand and tried to look like he wasn’t more than a friend to her. “You look so sad for spring,” she whispered.

  Krishani looked down at his clothes. Sure enough he had thrown on a black tunic and breeches and was stuck in the heavy shin-high boots he always wore. He leaned in to her as they wound around the other kinfolk. He was unsure where she was leading him. “I was too busy dreaming about what you’d be wearing.”

  She giggled as they neared the tables at the far back corner of the hall. From that angle they could see the bards gathered at the fountain, fiddles, cellos, harps and flutes ready to play tunes until dawn. The tables were rather empty. Kaliel took a seat and Krishani sat next to her.

  “You know I can’t stay,” he said.

  “No, but you can meet my friends from Evennses.” Kaliel smiled.

  Nerves crept into his gut. He remembered the last time they traveled from Evennses and what had happened on the dance floor. He wanted to believe they would accept him, but everything told him Kaliel was important to them. They would protect her from being hurt by anyone. He gave her a crooked smile and took her hands in his. “I would be honored.”

  They sat in silence as the bards tuned their instruments and played a few warm-up notes. Krishani kept her hands in his and stole glances at her every few seconds.

  “Why do you shy away from the games?” Kaliel asked.

  Krishani broke out of his stupor. “What?”

  She glared. “You never play the games in the courtyard.”

  He shrugged. “I never found sparring any fun.”

  “Are you afraid of losing?”

  He laughed and turned in his seat. “We used to spar in Amersil.”

  “And so why not here?”

  He took a deep breath. He focused on the soft cream-colored tablecloth and shiny plates and cutlery. He had difficulty finding the words to explain why he wouldn’t fight. It was a long story, one he kept hidden from everyone. Moments slipped by without an answer and she put her hand on his arm, encouraging him. He hung his head.

  “I hurt someone once,” he said. He wasn’t only thinking of Wraynas in Hawklin, but Remy, another Brother from Amersil. He didn’t even know what happened to Wraynas after the match. Istar never talked about it. His words came out in a way that sounded sadder than he meant it.

  “Oh,” Kaliel said, her hand sliding off his arm as she sat back.

  “It was nothing, really. I missed most of the time, but, there was one time when I focused all the energy I had on the sword, and …” He stopped, not wanting to tell her the rest of the story. It was almost too painful to remember.

  “What?”

  “The blade never touched him, I made sure of it, but the gash in his arm …” He shrugged, remembering the blood.

  Kaliel pressed her lips together and said nothing as Pux and Luenelle approached. Pux was flouncing around in a way that made Krishani think he was fool. He flopped onto the chair next to Kaliel and extended his hand over her to Krishani.

  “You’re Krishani,” Pux said devilishly. He smiled wide as Kaliel shot him a perturbed glance. Luenelle gingerly sat down next to Pux and watchfully eyed Krishani. He glanced at the two of them, unsure what to say.

  “I’m Luenelle.”

  “Krishani.”

  Kaliel exhaled loudly. She rose from the chair and looked at them. “And I’m sorry, but I need the lavatory.” She retreated across the floor towards the lower west wing.

  Krishani frowned and turned to Pux and Luenelle, who were still staring at him. He was unsure how to start or keep a conversation going with them.

  “You look like you’re from Amersil,” Luenelle said. She smiled as Pux continued to trace the contours of his face like he was trying to memorize every last part of him should he ever need to track him down.

  “I live in Orlondir now, though,” Krishani said.

  “Which means you get to be with Kaliel all the time and we don’t,” Pux said.

  Krishani met his gaze. “Aye, but since my Brothers from Amersil are here, I’ll sit with them.”

  Pux looked like he wanted to beam, but his face remained expressionless. “Did you know Kaliel talks to trees?”

  Krishani blinked. He didn’t know where the question came from and since he had known Kaliel, he hadn’t known her to speak to trees. Knots formed in his stomach as he wondered what else he didn’t know about her.

  “And she likes to swim in the lake with merfolk,” Luenelle added.

  Krishani smiled and let out the breath he had been holding in. “I know.” He tried not to let on about the trees. His eyes moved to the doors as more kinfolk shuffled into the hall. It looked like dinner would be served soon. Krishani rose from the table.

  “It was nice to meet you,” he said. He passed the bards and saw his brethren. They looked regal and well-groomed as usual. Krishani silently took a seat next to Benir, his old friend.

  The brethren weren’t known for many words and between the long silences they talked about the seasons and their affairs in the Lands of Men. Krishani had heard most of it before; he was anxious for this part of the night to end.

  Food came, along with the customary blessing of the lands, and when the bards struck u
p their tunes, he bid farewell to the brethren and went to find Kaliel. She sat with Pux, Luenelle and many others. Her eyes lit up as he approached. She pushed away from the table.

  “Nobody is dancing yet,” he said.

  “They will after the feast.”

  “Do you want to stay?”

  She shook her head. “I want to watch the blossoming.”

  Krishani smiled and took her hand. He led her through the Grand Hall and out to the courtyard where the games had stopped. Everyone was inside eating. He looked back, a few of the kinfolk started up a jig. Krishani ignored them as he pulled Kaliel to the big doors and over the bridge to the moat. He took a right and they were covered in apple trees, stretching as far as the eye could see to the west and south of Orlondir. Kaliel dropped his hand as they wound through the perfectly aligned rows of trees, walked on the fresh blades of grass and smelled the sweetness of the air. Krishani began stepping backwards as he traced the outline of her features. Snow-white hair fell in curls around her shoulders. Her eyes focused on the ground, pinkish eyelids with white lashes hiding their greenness.

  “Can you talk to trees?” he asked.

  Kaliel looked at him, questions in her eyes. “Who told you about that?”

  “Pux,” he said immediately.

  “Oh. In Evennses the trees were my friends.”

  “I thought it was only the Great Oak that could speak.”

  Kaliel stepped carefully around the patches of mud and grass and neared him. She put her hand on the trunk of an apple tree. “Most believe that.” She slid her hand off its bark and continued into the depths of the orchard, moving farther and farther away from the Elmare Castle. Krishani traced the curve of her lips. “These trees don’t talk,” she said. She sounded disappointed.