Krishani fidgeted in his tunic. He wanted to grab her by the hair and pull it back, make her talk. Instead, he thought about what it would take to stop her and his mind went blank. He remembered Mallorn’s words: I do not even know how he was stopped the first time. Krishani clenched his fist, his eyes boring into hers. “Why?”
Morgana let a thin smile prick at the corners of her mouth, like she was remembering something from a distant past. “Because the land belongs to us.”
“The land belongs to Tor.”
Morgana looked livid. She shot him a piercing gaze that made him double over and clutch his torso with both hands. “He was one of us,” she hissed, and she didn’t sound like a little girl anymore. “He betrayed us!” Her little hands balled into fists, the justice flame flaring, her hair billowing around her face. “And he locked us away.”
He heard the story so many times, but wasn’t willing to question the only High King he had ever known. It was blasphemy to speak of Tor like he was the enemy. He stayed rigid, waiting for the dream to end, waiting to wake up. The little girl seethed and there was a loud pounding overhead. Mud fell into his hair and the flame flickered. She looked up, seemingly confused. The look turned sardonic as she moved towards the stairwell, but Krishani wasn’t compelled the follow, the puppet strings snapped.
She glanced at him and her lips quirked up in a terrible smile. “You’ll find me when your soul is black as night.” And she was gone, disappearing up the spiral sidewalk, her bare feet pitter-pattering along the cobblestones.
Krishani let the darkness slide across his vision as the invisible strings holding him to her snapped. Searing pain shocked him awake and made him thrash until he realized where he was.
Still in a nightmare.
• • •
Krishani stopped fighting reality and eyed the roof of the hut. Thick layers of straw lay on top of it, preventing leaks. He threw an arm over his face and let the heaviness entrench him. The dreams were supposed to make him feel better, they were supposed to be about Kaliel, but with the growing lapse in time and the deadly crushing weight of the disease pressing into him, dreams weren’t helping.
He stretched out on the little cot for hours, staring into space, letting his thoughts turn to mush. He could barely fathom how he had come from a place of beauty to the catastrophic wastelands he faced now. Avristar was becoming more like a dream every day, and the stinging pain of reality was beginning to feel normal.
It was as though happy places and happy endings never existed at all.
He sighed loudly and rolled onto his side. Tiki sat in the knapsack, her light a dim hum in the darkened hut. Nights seemed long, longer than they had been on Avristar, and days seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. He shrugged off his tunic and traced the black wound on his shoulder. Shimma was masterful at stitching him up, but it throbbed. So did the wound near his hip. As he grazed it with his right hand he noticed the disease curled around his hip, but left the white spot unmarked.
He felt the Vulture’s pulse in his ears, the nothingness threatening to consume him. The progression of the disease didn’t hurt; it simply made him feel numb. The pain he did feel was crunched into sections of his body that wouldn’t stop burning. The pain made him realize he was still alive. He wasn’t one of them yet.
But he would be.
The Vultures wanted it.
Morgana wanted it.
His stomach rumbled in defiance and he winced. He couldn’t face the villagers and he was out of his own food. Castle Tavesin was at least a week away, through the ominous mountains. He groaned. Even if he didn’t want to, he’d have to ask the villagers to provide for him, and return to Elwen. He had to ask someone for help.
Krishani looked at his hands, grief still dragging his heart to the depths of the ocean. He wanted the freedom of death, of rebirth, of being given another life, a different life. Krishani was no Ferryman to Kaliel, no warrior of death, no savior against the Vultures, no hero in the Lands of Men.
Without her, he was nothing.
Krishani took a shaky breath and let the pain in his extremities flow over him like waves lapping against the shore. He needed to face Elwen. He needed to beg him to reveal the secret to traveling to the other Lands of Men. Elwen alluded to conversations between the other Ferrymen. He needed to know how.
There was no time left. The Valtanyana and his armies were coming, and his only hope of beating them rested with the Flames.
• • •
Kuruny barged into the hut, her lungs bursting for air as she heaved in heavy breaths and gaped at Krishani. He flinched and stared at her with questioning eyes.
“You fool!” she cried. Her hands grasped her throat. Krishani frowned as her hands trailed along marks left in her flesh. Human hand prints stretched along her neck, red welts on her fair skin. She doubled over and coughed. “They want you gone. Before more die.”
Krishani sat back on the cot, calmly gazing into her long black dress and strands of midnight hair falling past her waist. “They brought this on themselves.” His voice devoid of emotion.
Kuruny collapsed on the animal hide in the center of the hut and fixed her eyes on him. “The man on the white horse brings death.”
Krishani shrugged. “I don’t follow death, it follows me.” She glowered at him. He recognized the expression. It was the way she used to look at him in Avristar.
“Why are you so cavalier?” she snapped, her voice ragged. She turned to the far corners of the hut, pawing around for something. She lifted the lid of a barrel with stale water. She dipped her hands into it and slurped.
Krishani shook his head and grabbed the bowl beside the bed. “Use a bowl.” He held it out for her.
She eyed him warily and grabbed the bowl, scooping out more water and bringing it to her lips. She looked like she had been attacked. Moments went by in silence. Krishani refused to answer. He owed her nothing, owed the villagers nothing. They were harboring something he needed and she didn’t seem the least bit concerned about the Daed seeking to possess the Flame.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and rubbed it along her dress. As she brought her eyes to his face, her expression changed. “What happened to you?”
Krishani averted his gaze and slid his blackened hand under his thigh. He didn’t need speculation from Kuruny about what was happening to him. She likely never heard of Vultures. He cast a defiant look in her direction and hunched up his shoulders. “I thought it was obvious.”
Kuruny snickered and clasped her hands together. “Oh, poor, precious Kaliel,” she sung. She giggled and shook her head, her eyes boring into him with intense clarity. “That was never meant to end well.”
Krishani gritted his teeth, his eyes hardening. “The villagers want me gone, so why prolong it? Give me the Flame and I’ll go away.”
Her fierceness faded as her hand trailed along her neck. “They took her.”
Krishani’s eyes widened. “They what?” He jumped to his feet and balled his hands into fists. He wanted to punch something. Instead, he entwined his fingers together and held the back of his head.
She was quiet for a long time. “They took her. Are you happy? They took her because of you.”
Krishani turned, his expression vile. “It was my fault? You housed a Flame when you knew the danger, and it’s my fault?”
“You’re the Ferryman,” Kuruny said evenly.
He paused, the words caught in his throat. “I’m nothing.”
She brought herself to her feet and stood in front of him, arms crossed over her chest. “You can’t deny it.” She said it like she knew what she was talking about, but Krishani knew it was just another insult. He didn’t know what was worse: her knowing or her taunting him about it.
He copied her stance and stared her down. “I can and I will.” He locked eyes with her, letting her see the anger, the frustration, the grief held within him.
She broke eye contact first. “I still have no Flame to offer yo
u.”
He uncurled his arms. “Because you let them take it. Don’t you realize how dangerous they are?”
Kuruny looked at him, her face full of regret. “I was there, remember?”
Krishani paced in a circle. His heart shattered. Not only did he need to go back to Elwen, but the Valtanyana had taken another Flame. “How am I supposed to win this war?” he muttered to himself. He thought of the Daed warrior and the threats from the night before.
“What war?” Kuruny snapped.
He realized his mistake too late. He never planned on telling her about his challenge to the Daed. He shuffled his feet and looked at his boots. “I dared them to come for me.”
Kuruny’s eyes went wild; her flat hand raked across his cheek with brilliant force. She recoiled as he rubbed his cheek and closed his eyes, an admittance of guilt.
“Are you mad?” she shrieked. “You stupid boy! You ungrateful, petulant, ignorant, selfish, shameful boy.” She hit him again with the other hand and let it sting. “How dare you.” Her eyes were cold.
“What do you want me to do? It was a mistake.” But he didn’t regret it. Not at all. It would be the war that would end him.
“Am I not allowed a peaceful death? Is no one allowed to live without your destruction ruining their lives? Could you not for a moment think of nothing but yourself and realize what you’ve done?”
Krishani hung his head. “Can you live peacefully with Crestaos as High King?”
Kuruny looked like she had been slapped. She sunk to the rug, her face full of distorted stress. She looked like she was processing what he had already come to know. No matter what anyone wanted, the Valtanyana wouldn’t stop unless someone stopped them. Nobody would have peace while they were loose.
“But you’ve caused this fray twice,” she said.
“The first time was an accident.”
“And the second time?”
“I meant it.”
“Why?”
Krishani sighed and sat on the cot. He shrugged off his tunic. “I’m the Ferryman, but with that comes … hardships. Ones you couldn’t fathom.”
Kuruny said nothing.
“I know I’ll never be with Kaliel again. And I know I would rather be dead than be a Ferryman.” He stopped and stared at her. She seemed stricken. “Unlike you I can’t die, but I can become what the Ferrymen fight.”
“I didn’t know,” Kuruny whispered. She bowed her head and closed her eyes. She looked sorry, sorry for berating him and making it harder.
“All I have left is this war.”
She nodded.
“You were right.”
She scowled, her eyes probing. “About what?”
“You were the one that told me if I took this path I would never be with her again. Turns out, the Great Oak was right all along. Kaliel was the one I had to surrender.”
“I never meant—” she began, but Krishani moved to his feet and grabbed the knapsack from the corner of the hut. He pulled the lantern out and Tiki glowed, appearing hesitant.
“This is Tiki. Kaliel told me how to find her.” He opened the chamber and pulled out the fragile orb, letting it rest on his hand. It dimmed and glowed like it was breathing.
Kuruny looked at it, mesmerized. “Wow.” She reached out to touch the Flame, but Krishani shoved Tiki into the lantern.
“Kaliel was a Flame like her. The Amethyst Flame.”
Kuruny nodded. “I know. I heard the whispers in the castle about her.”
Krishani narrowed his eyes at her. “You knew they were hunting her.”
She waved a hand in the air. “I didn’t know what I sent you to would … I can’t bear seeing you like this, though.” She set eyes on his hand and he drew back.
“Um …” He was unsure how to take her concern. He was so used to her chiding and taunting that her compassion was confusing. He turned to the lantern. “There are two others Crestaos hasn’t taken.”
“He used to be one of the most powerful of the Valtanyana,” Kuruny whispered.
Krishani grimaced. He didn’t want to know that. “One of the Flames is on Amaltheia, the other is on Nimphalls.”
Kuruny’s gaze froze when he said Nimphalls. Tears pooled in her eyes as the grief clouded her expression. “Oh.” A tear streaked down her face. “And you need to get both.”
“Yes, which means I need Elwen’s help.”
She shook her head. “No, no, you don’t need to go back there.” She gathered her skirts and fled from the hut before Krishani could say anything. He frowned and glanced at Tiki.
“You will lose.”
Krishani sighed. “I know, Tiki, I know.”
* * *
26 - Hexes and Vortexes
Krishani waited until the three of them returned to the hut, all of them exchanging careful glances. Kazza’s ragged brown hair curled down the back of her long-sleeved white dress. She crossed her arms, sending a flurry of fabric over itself, then, glared at Krishani. Shimma’s mouth formed a straight line, her blue eyes dancing with concern.
“We have agreed to help you,” Kuruny began. She shot a glance at Kazza, who scoffed, her fingers twirling one of the beads on her necklaces.
“Only because you’re hopeless,” Kazza said.
Kuruny held up a hand and the woman crossed the hut and sat on the animal hide, elegantly tucking her legs underneath her. Kazza’s eyes pierced Krishani’s. “I want to see it first.”
Krishani glanced at Kuruny and gritted his teeth. “Tiki isn’t something you can possess.” He was so angry. They regarded Tiki the way Osvanir had. She was merely a magical tool, not a being, a person, a soul. It stung. What did they think of Kaliel?
“Show her to me, or I refuse to be a part of this,” Kazza said.
Krishani pulled the lantern out from under his cloak. Tiki was a dim orange light, barely visible. Kazza gasped and Tiki exploded, illuminating the entire hut in orange. Krishani carefully watched Kazza, and when he thought she had enough he pulled Tiki back into his cloak and covered her. Kazza sat back and went to say something, but Shimma leaned in, on her knees, reaching for Krishani’s shoulder.
“How are you feeling?” She ran her fingers along the wound.
Krishani found her fingers with his other hand and pushed her away. He gave her a meaningful glare; he didn’t need to say it. “There is no pain there.”
“Aye,” Shimma said as she withdrew.
“Will you accompany me to Castle Tavesin?” he asked, trying to steer the conversation away from Shimma.
“No,” Kuruny said. “We don’t need to ask for his help.”
Krishani watched as they pulled at the necklaces, diligently picking across the beads with their fingers, like they were looking for something important.
“You do know where I’m going, right?” he asked.
Kazza glanced at him. “About that …”
Kuruny stopped on the piece of a seashell and looked at Kazza, who held the other piece. Kuruny slipped her half over her head and handed it to Kazza, who slid it on and let the pieces dangle around her collarbone. “Nimphalls is dangerous.”
“And treacherous,” Kuruny murmured.
Kazza didn’t break eye contact with Krishani. “The realm is divided; the two sides are at constant war with each other. We need to know which side the Flame is on.”
Krishani closed his eyes and reached for Tiki. “Anything you can tell us?”
“He is with the dragon riders in the north plains. Underground, in the catacombs of scrolls,” Tiki said.
Krishani looked up. Kuruny was stunned. Kazza kept her face cold and emotionless, but a sly smile pricked at the corner of her mouth. Krishani repeated what Tiki had said and Kuruny crumbled.
“I can’t go there,” Kuruny whispered with disbelief.
Kazza caught her hand and pressed their palms together. “You must. The longer you avoid it, the lesser your chances of breaking the hex.”
Kuruny ripped her hand away and left the hut. Kri
shani heard her sitting outside in the sand, simpering.
“Should I know why?” He still didn’t care much for the daughters of Istar, but their help was welcomed. He put the lantern beside him and glanced at Shimma.
“We were given a task on Nimphalls. Unite the two sides. It seemed so simple. There are humans on either side. One side is full of dragon riders, and the other is full of weapons builders. But the dragon riders don’t believe in weapons,” Shimma said.
“And the weapons builders don’t believe in dragons,” Kazza said.
“It was the dragon riders who did this to Kuruny.”
Kazza gave her a warning look, but Shimma didn’t look at her.
“They believed her blood was like the Fountain of Youth, and it is. A drop of her blood would cure any human ailment, but they almost drained her dry.”
Krishani shuddered at the tale.
Kazza rose to her feet and cast a glance into the shadows of the hut. “I fixed the problem, dear sister. Kuruny has blood, but not longevity.”
Shimma’s eyes filled with guilt. “Kazza killed the human who did it, and replaced Kuruny’s blood with the human’s blood.”
“That explains why Istar hates you so much,” he said.
“I saved my sister.” She snarled.
“What about the hex?” He didn’t get it.
Shimma entwined her fingers together and Kazza glared at her. “That is enough. I will take Kuruny to Nimphalls and find the Flame,” Kazza said.
“And I’ll go with you to Amaltheia,” Shimma said, looking at Krishani, her eyes pleading.
He set his mouth in a taciturn line. “No.”
Shimma laughed. “You hardly have means to travel.”
“And you have an idea?” His tone was acrimonious.
Shimma sighed and moved to her feet. She left the hut for a moment and came back carrying a large contraption resembling a lantern. It had dials with various symbols on the top and bottom, eighteen in total, and an hourglass in the center. “This was on the beach. The Daed left it behind.”
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