Justice
Page 17
“No.”
“Where is he?” Elwen sat on the throne and smoothed out his brown robes.
“On his own. We came upon some trouble. The feorn is hurt.”
Elwen narrowed his eyes. “What kind of trouble?”
Mallorn took a step forward, his robe dragging along the floor. “I believe the kind you might call Horsemen. They burned the trees around our campfire and,” he paused, taking another step forward, “they injured the feorn.”
Elwen’s face turned to stone. “Bring him to me.”
Mallorn turned on his heel and found Pux lying on his side on the steps. He lifted him into his arms and carried him into the hall, laying him on the ground at Elwen’s feet.
“These Horsemen have nothing but malice in them. They will destroy everything on Terra if they must,” Mallorn said.
“I know. Their desecration of the land is total, and they remain as ghosts. None have ever lived to tell me what they look like.” Elwen looked at the shivering feorn.
“I believe the wound might be tainted.” He couldn’t recall actually seeing the Horsemen’s faces himself, but he was glad to be alive.
“Lady Talina will help.” Elwen stepped into the shadows and disappeared down a hallway. Mallorn closed his eyes and waited for what seemed like forever. He sat on the steps free of candles and looked at Pux. He worried about the feorn, but moreso he worried about Krishani. The Daed were out there, too, searching for the Flames, and there was no telling when they would cross paths again.
Elwen appeared alongside a tall slender woman with long caramel-colored hair and pointed ears. Her eyes shone a golden hazel and her mouth was rosy red. She wore a flowing golden gown with a sash around her waist.
“Bring the feorn to my quarters, please.” Her voice was soft but commanding. Mallorn stood and bowed to her. She nodded her head in acknowledgement of their similarities and looked at Pux. Mallorn regretted treating Elwen as though he was impish. He had no idea there was a woman of her stature present in his court. Elwen eyed her with reverence as Mallorn lifted the feorn and carried him down the hallway to a larger room. In the center of it was a four-poster bed concealed by ivory satin drapes. The walls were stone, but the floors were made of interlocking smooth wooden panels. Candles flickered from the end table and from brackets on the walls.
Lady Talina wasted no time. She floated towards a long wicker cot pressed against one of the walls and gestured for Mallorn to lay the feorn there. He followed as she disappeared and returned moments later with a paste and a cloth. “I need time.”
* * *
22 - Man on the White Horse
The mountains were deceiving. Krishani slumped against the rock, wincing at the stab wound on his side. He hadn’t tended to it after the fight with Osvanir and it made him breathless. It wasn’t the type of pain Tiki could manage for him. Emotional pain was one thing, but this physical pain.… He ran his hand underneath his tunic and chainmail, feeling for the puncture. It was tender. He let out a heavy breath and slunk down the rock. His legs splayed out in front of him as he stuttered in a breath and laid his head against the rock.
“It’s not safe here,” Tiki said.
Krishani rolled his head back and forth against the rock and moaned. He wanted to continue, but Tyr was losing speed and he was losing his wits. Days had passed since they left the cabin, and if the mountains weren’t ominous enough they were elusive. They tripped over solid paths and found numerous dead ends that led them to hours of back tracking. When they did find paths through the peaks they were longer than they looked, the falls and rises creating unseen distances. Krishani was tired, and more than that he was hurt. He shoved his shoulder out from under himself and pulled up the sleeve. The blackness circled his forearm and crawled up his shoulder. He eyed the disease and traced the vines of darkness threatening to change him. He didn’t let the Vultures take Osvanir because of the guilt. It wasn’t justice.
“I need a moment,” Krishani said. He lifted the tunic higher and scrunched up the chainmail covering his form. Osvanir had stabbed him below it, near his hip. He blanched as he tried to steal a glance at the wound. It was nothing more an inch wide, and two inches deep. He grazed over it with his fingers and gulped at the stitches of pain covering his muscles with heat.
“You need a healer,” Tiki said. She sat next to him, glowing bright in the middle of the night. Parts of the mountain pass made it almost pitch black and it was one of the reasons Osvanir found her so useful. She was a permanent light not created by fire. He thought she was a magical item.
Osvanir had no idea she was a weapon.
Krishani smiled and pulled the tunic taut over his exposed skin. He struggled to his feet and used his toe to bring the handle of the lantern to his fingers. He mounted Tyr and placed Tiki in front of him. She shone brightly as he continued into the valley.
They traipsed through jutting rocks and avoided ravines and edges of the narrow mountain passes. Though it was night, he saw enough to know where he was going. He wended around rocks, hills and steep downgrades. Tyr almost lost his footing at the edge, but Krishani forced him to deal with the tumbles of rocks obscuring their way.
Eventually they broke through the tyrannous mountain passes and landed on grassy terrain. The hills rolled towards the shore, hiding caves within their bounds. Krishani had seen many potential openings for caverns, but he refused to explore them. There was something about caves that made his heart feel heavier. Caves and crashing sounds of water. Fortunately, they hadn’t found any waterfalls.
He pulled Tyr through the grass. They wound their way to the shore. It was dawn when Krishani met a cliff. The ocean stretched out ahead of them, but when he peered over the cliff he couldn’t see rocks and water curling at its edge. It was like the cliff hung over an unseen area, hidden by the land itself.
“The Citrine Flame is in the cave,” Tiki said.
Krishani broke out of his reverie as the ringing chimes drifted into his mind. He glanced at the lantern perched between his legs.
“There has to be a way to the shore,” he muttered. He pulled Tyr away from the cliff and began tracing his steps along the highlands. Krishani groaned as he rounded the horse back and forth, looking for a plausible entry point.
“Further north,” Tiki said.
Krishani pulled Tyr to the north where he had seen the boat from Avristar disappear in the mists. His stomach did flip-flops as he gazed at the horizon. Choppy black water rippled in unison as Krishani found a path leading to the shore. It curled around a large boulder pressed against the water, creating its own obstacle. Krishani let the horse slide towards the wet sand and eyed the boulder in his way. The water lapped against it, which frustrated him. Tyr bent his head and began drinking.
“The Flame is in a cave to the south, along the shore,” she said.
“Aye, but there is no way to reach that cave,” Krishani said. Tyr whinnied loudly, the sound echoing off the boulder. Krishani patted him on the side in reassurance. He paused long enough for the horse to get his fill and furrowed his brow in contemplation. He pulled Tyr into the water. It wasn’t deep. When they reached the edge of the boulder the water barely covered the horse’s legs. Krishani stayed close to the rock, hoping there weren’t any unexpected depths.
His stomach was a muddle of knots as he rounded the rock. An entire village appeared under the overhanging cliff. Krishani held his breath as Tyr neared the shoreline. He slipped off the horse and tucked Tiki into the folds of the knapsack. His boots splashed loudly as he took Tyr by the reins.
Krishani switched sides and moved closer to the rocks, forcing the horse into open water. He scanned the straw huts on the beach, trying to spot villagers. He wondered if he would find them dead or alive. With the village being so secluded he doubted the Horsemen would have ravaged it. The huts weren’t burnt, that was a good sign. He crept forward as the wind whistled against the rocks. He passed a crevasse between the boulder and the cliff hanging over the cove.
“Guar estanya comm estya,” a woman’s raspy voice chanted steadily as the amulet swung back and forth like a pendulum.
Krishani felt like his head weighed a thousand pounds. The woman pulled herself out of the water, holding the amulet over him.
She paused. “Krishani?”
His tried to look at her, black eyes, long raven’s hair clinging to her face. She wore blood-red garments, adorning too many beaded necklaces around her neck. He choked on the water in his lungs and coughed.
“Kuruny.” He spat as he rose to his feet and stalked away from her. Of all the vile creatures he wanted to encounter on Terra, she wasn’t one of them. Memories mushroomed across his temples: their conversation the night the Ferryman died, her help when he betrayed the land. Apparently Avristar hadn’t forgiven her either.
Her footsteps scuttered after him. “You left Avristar?”
He turned as she stepped over the last of the waves hitting the shore. “I came here to find the Citrine Flame. I know you have it,” he said without a hint of indecision. He had no compassion for Kuruny. After what she said to him on Avristar he couldn’t be angry with her for being right. He could, however, be perturbed with her for being there—and for trying to drown him.
Kuruny appeared awestruck. “How did you know?”
“I have my ways.”
Kuruny pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “Well, you’ll not take this one from me.” She locked eyes with him, determination flickering across her black orbs for eyes.
Krishani was tired and hungry. He dug the heels of his palms into his mismatched eyes, erasing the sting of salt water from them. They felt cracked and bloodshot. He ran out of bread hours ago and wasn’t sure what was safe to eat and what wasn’t. He tried grabbing her by the wrists. He wanted to force her to tell him where the Flame was. He wanted her to give it up before the Valtanyana ruined her. She should have known better than anyone how dangerous Crestaos was. He covered her arm with his blackened hand and pulled her away from the water.
“I need all of them.” His voice shook.
Kuruny averted her gaze.
Krishani knew nothing about the Flames other than what he had learned from Kaliel. He didn’t understand their individual complexities, but he couldn’t let Kuruny have them.
Her jaw tightened as she lifted her head. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.” She ripped her arm out of his grasp and rubbed it like he had hurt her. She stormed towards the huts on the opposite end of the cove.
Krishani balled up his fist and thought about clouds and rain, and ominous black things drowning out the stars.
“You wretched witch!” he bellowed. He caught up and grabbed her by the shoulders. He planned on turning her around to face him, but she was too quick. She turned on her heel the moment he touched her and held the amulet in front of his face.
“Nava cull de loyca amarkus,” she whispered, a lethal expression on her face. Krishani’s eyes widened as he fell onto the sand.
• • •
The strong musky scent of cedar wafted through the hut, creating a thick cloud of smoke. Krishani’s eyes fluttered open as he came to. He covered his eyes with his arm and groaned. He seemed disoriented.
“Don’t move,” Shimma said.
The boy fell back into the hay and closed his eyes. Shimma put a wet cloth on his forehead, a mixture of sea salt, star anise and cohosh. He recoiled and she scowled, unsure how to help him.
“You made her very angry.” She padded his brow, put the cloth in a basin of water beside the cot and left it there. She moved on her knees, grabbing the rain stick behind her. She turned it and hummed a tune, but his expression made it seem like the trickles of beads were boring a hole into the side of his skull. She wanted to lull him back to sleep, but he opened his striking mismatched eyes and fought to stare at her. She glanced down at herself, clad in a blue dress and beige apron. Her blonde hair was swept up in a ponytail. Beads hung around her neck. She stole a glance at him. He eyed the charm bracelet hanging from her wrist. Silver pendants dangled from it; one of them looked like an apple tree.
She brought her gaze to his and put down the rain stick. He looked weak and sick from what Kuruny had done. “The effects of the amulet will wear off soon.”
“Shimma,” Krishani said.
“Mmmhmm.” She began fiddling with tools. She reached for a snare drum and scraped her fingernails across it, making noise. He propped himself on one elbow, continuing to stare at her, drinking in each of her features. She thought she might blush if he kept looking at her like that but she figured he was having trouble seeing anything. That’s what the squinting and intensity was all about. He’d never look at her like that if he was thinking straight.
“How long have I been out?”
Shimma pulled her mouth to the side. “Three days,” she chirped, trying not to make it sound like a bad thing. She hadn’t expected him to show up on the beach the way he did. The way Kuruny talked about it like he was purposefully outing them was a little sickening. Kazza hadn’t said anything about it, but her usual scowl was readable.
Krishani fell back into the cot and closed his eyes.
Shimma continued rubbing her fingernails along the drum. She tried to ignore the fact Krishani was acting more than precocious. She spent the last three days tending to him, feeling the familiar pin pricks of pain as she remembered where they came from, and why they were on Terra. It had been weeks since the catastrophe and yet the way time moved, everything came and went in the blink of an eye. Her time there felt so short and yet the battle still pressed on her. Avristar wasn’t a land of peace anymore. It was broken and she was staring at the reason it broke.
“Why did you leave Avristar?” Krishani asked even though he wasn’t looking at her.
Shimma stopped with the drum, her heart quickening. She knew this was coming. She always wondered what he thought of her, wondered what happened to him after the battle. She thought of things he would ask her when he woke. She tried to find the words to explain herself, but failed. Grief struck her repeatedly, staring at his body, recalling the last time she saw him. It was hard not to feel like she had sent him to his death. She put the drum down beside her, hanging her head, avoiding his eyes.
“Av … Avred,” she whispered. She brought her eyes to his. They held the same melancholy. “I couldn’t stay, knowing he was awake.”
Krishani pushed himself up and glanced around the cabin. His eyes fell on the knapsacks in the corner. Shimma made sure Kuruny hadn’t taken those away. She didn’t trust what her sister might do with Krishani’s belongings. Hugging her knees to her chest she let out a sigh. He wouldn’t understand, but the long answer wasn’t something she wanted to tell him. “Avred is a blood thirsty beast.”
Krishani didn’t respond and his piercing gaze made words fall out of her mouth.
“When Istar asked Avred for his assistance against the Valtanyana in the First Era, the mountain wanted something in return for its … protection.” If that’s what it thought it was doing anyway. She shuddered and hugged her knees tighter. Memories from that time were like blurred watercolors on canvas. She remembered her sisters and their fear, but didn’t have any emotions of her own. It wasn’t until she learned the truth and was sent to aid in the Lands of Men did she develop hatred for her past.
Krishani intently stared at her. Her heart lurched involuntarily. He didn�
�t know anything about Avred. The dark secrets Avristar kept were heavy.
“What did the mountain want?” he asked.
“Who,” Shimma whispered. She tried to communicate her fear silently. Whatever Krishani thought he knew about the land of his youth, it was largely inaccurate. Peace always came after war. And secrets always stayed hidden so war wouldn’t break out again. Contradictions, differences, they weren’t allowed. Anyone different was segregated, trained in the traditions of the land as though there was nothing wrong with them. If that didn’t work they were sent away like Shimma and her sisters; like Krishani, too. She guessed he would know a lot about being different.
“It wanted me.”
Krishani rubbed his hands along his breeches. Shimma tried to snuff out the memory of the processional to the mountain, the slow walk through the sticky vines camouflaging the mountain.
“Istar refused, and Avristar suffered,” Shimma said. She closed her eyes, flashes of Avristar in the back of her mind.
Krishani sighed. “That was a long time ago.”
“I was only a child when it happened.”
He grimaced. “Aye, well, time doesn’t show a hint of that.” He rubbed his temples, proof enough for Shimma that Kuruny’s spell worked.
“Time is an interesting thing.” She moved to her knees and put her hand on the cloth, wringing it out. She went to rub his brow, but he stopped her, his hand curling around her wrist. She felt her pulse beat against his hand. Krishani took the cloth and padded his own brow, dropping the cloth on the floor. Shimma put it in the bowl, trying to ignore the way she felt when he touched her. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling.
“Why is Kuruny angry with me?” he asked.
Shimma stood and put the drum and rain stick in the corner of the hut with the other supplies. She came back with a saddened expression. “Kuruny is disgruntled. She lost her immortality and has been lashing out with magic.”