Justice

by Rhiannon Paille

  “He’s mute,” she said.

  Krishani nodded. “And so we’re still lost?”

  “No, I understood him. Havelir is nearby and he’ll help us.”

  He took a deep breath and mounted Tyr. Shimma crossed her arms and gave him a look. “You don’t look ill,” he said, wanting his turn to ride.

  She looked away. “No, he had the tea.”

  He ignored her. “Lead the way?”

  Shimma grabbed the reins and pulled them in the direction they’d been traveling for hours. Krishani let out a huff.

  • • •

  The sun didn’t set.

  Krishani grew tiresome of the ever-present glow of the blue sun. Tyr got tired and whinnied in protest as they headed down the road in impatient agony of ever finding anything. The land never changed, the cornfields never waned.

  Shimma scuffed her feet along the trail. She yawned, but didn’t stop. Krishani thought it should be nightfall, but with the defiance of the sun it was hard to tell when to sleep and when to stay awake. Shimma had her eyes to the ground. They ran out of things to talk about a long time ago. Each took turns on the horse; right now Krishani was perched on it, his hands clenched around the reins. “What is that?” he asked, seeing something blurry in the distance.

  Shimma followed his gaze. The sky was deceiving; it rose against jagged zigzags of deep grayness. He squinted to get a better look but his mind failed him as he fought against the urge to fall asleep. “I don’t know,” she said.

  They neared the zigzags minutes later and it was clear it was a wall. Large gray tree trunks stuck out of the ground and pierced the sky with their jagged ends. Krishani blinked. A set of gates sunk into the wall.

  “Oh, King Telper’s Court,” she said as though she was in a dream.

  Krishani perked up at the name; it sounded familiar. He slid off Tyr and looped the reins around the horse’s head. He grasped them underneath the muzzle and led Tyr until they stood at the gates. The compound was remnant of Castle Tavesin. Krishani stifled the knots growing in his stomach.

  Shimma stumbled towards the gate and ran her hands along it as if looking for something. She crouched, running her fingers along the bottom half of the gate. Something slid open and she stood and peered into the little hole. She said nothing. The gates opened and he followed her into town.

  The ground was sand when they passed the threshold. The whole town was built on cracked ground bereft of vegetation. There wasn’t a single tree. Large canopies created a marketplace. In the center children dressed in scant, striped garments, batted a ball around the courtyard with sticks. Shimma kept to the sidelines and rounded the tents. Some were gray, others were black, all of them displaying wares—clothing, pots and pans, tools, weapons. He tried to avoid attention, pulling Tyr along and noticing most of the humans had graying or black hair. Shimma was the only one with bright white hair; she seemed self-conscious about it.

  Beyond the marketplace rested a labyrinth of clay homes. The land looked nothing like it had in the cornfields. Krishani marveled at the short, perfectly-lined domiciles and the flat tops of houses. Even in Avristar people were partial to triangular roofs and circular towers. He had never seen anything like these. They moved swiftly down the road until they came to the largest tent he had ever seen. Multiple peaks smoothed over the baby soft bright white canvas.

  Shimma nodded to the guards standing at the entrance, and without a word they pulled back the thick curtain and ushered her inside. Krishani paused and glanced at Tyr, who seemed too afraid to enter the tent.

  “Leave it with us,” one of the guards said with a gravelly voice, taking the reins.

  Krishani narrowed his eyes and tried to read his intentions. He hadn’t tried to use any of his abilities since he left Avristar and his skill for metaphysics was low-grade. At the very least the sky didn’t fill with clouds when he glowered at the man, but the gesture was understood. “We’ll care for the animal,” the guard said.

  Krishani reluctantly let go and ducked into the tent, Shimma waiting for him. His boots squished against the beautifully embroidered rug. It was long and narrow and it stretched to a raised platform in the center. On either side of the rug were more things he had never seen before: short tables with pillows strewn around them, people talking, laughing, and indulging in delicacies. Krishani failed to recognize any of the food, but the people seemed pleased by the tastes. He missed feeling gleeful and carefree and wondered just what these peasants had to pay for their freedom. He passed the clusters of tables in silence as he neared the stairs and the silken semi-transparent veils covering the outlines of furniture on the other side Shimma passed the veils and sat on a black settee on the platform.

  “Here he is,” she said brightly as Krishani pushed the veneer out of his way. The black platform seamlessly stretched on and Krishani noted another small rectangular black table, luxurious furnishings on either side of it, things he hadn’t seen even at the Elmare Castle in Avristar.

  A barefoot man in long black pants and a white tunic sat on the settee across from Shimma. Two cups of tea rested on the table between them. A servant swept in and another cup appeared. Shimma shifted over on the settee and allowed Krishani to sit. The man in black smiled. “I haven’t been to Avristar in a long time.”

  Krishani stared at the tea. He closed his eyes. All he could hear were explosions and all he could see in front of him were thick white pellets of snow. That life was so far behind him it was almost a dream. “This is Krishani,” Shimma said. She sounded uncomfortable.

  “I’m Havelir.”

  Krishani opened his eyes, but said nothing. Havelir glanced at Shimma with a questioning expression.

  “We have come only for your help,” she said.

  Havelir nodded. “King Telper has been busy in these lands. The thieves have been rankling and we are becoming increasingly worried.” He took a sip of tea and glanced at Krishani. “Amaltheia was in peace.”

  “So was Avristar,” Krishani whispered.

  Havelir set his tea down. His face was a mix of concern and abashment. He sported a small black beard, his dark oily hair slicked back. His face was smooth and white, and if it wasn’t for the pointed ears, he would have looked mostly human. His eyes were gray storms of indecision, nearly shifting moment to moment.

  “I need to find the Flames,” Krishani said. His voice was raspy and rough, barely recognizable.

  “And for what grave purpose do you seek them?” Havelir asked, his tone registering shock.

  Shimma gulped. “Please, Havelir, we know the Obsidian Flame is here.” She fixed her gaze on him.

  Havelir met her stricken eyes. Krishani looked at Shimma. She had bruises under her eyes and her face was pale and tired. Krishani felt like the same melancholy had sunken into his cheekbones. His entire face contorted in grief.

  “What danger has come?” Havelir snapped. There was only a hint of alarm and the servant stepped forward but Havelir waved him away.

  “The Valtanyana,” Shimma whispered.

  “Balk!” Havelir ran a hand through his hair. Nervously glancing around, he stood, pulling the veneer taut around the platform, and sat down again. “My apologies. King Telper has been more than careful. I stay to my business and he stays to the affairs of his kingdom. We don’t speak of outside places nor we do we teach the people about The Lands Across the Stars.”

  Krishani was speechless. All his life he had known about the Lands of Men, the places he would have to travel to as an ambassador. Originally that was as a member of the Brotherhood of Amersil, but now … he didn’t want to think about what he was now or what he was doing. Living a sheltered life without the knowledge of the vast ends of the stars seemed dismal, especially with the gray. It made longing for Avristar, its lush green grasses and smell of apple blossoms deeper than ever.

  “Avristar was attacked,” Krishani said, monotone.

  Havelir dropped his tea. The cup shattered into pieces at his feet. Tea seeped between hi
s toes, a grayish bruise forming on his white skin. “Attacked!” His eyes found Krishani as a servant swept in, handing him a white cloth napkin. He laid it on his foot. “You mean to tell me it’s ruined?”

  Krishani nodded.

  “And so you left?”

  “I fled,” Shimma said.

  “And you need my help?”

  “I need the Flames,” Krishani said, agitation building in his limbs. He was seconds away from collapsing, vertigo clouding his vision. He swayed on the balls of his feet, fighting to keep his balance.

  Havelir nodded. “Klavotesi has gone with Ambrose. They’re in the sands looking for the thieves’ hideaway.”

  Krishani’s heart thudded like a dead weight in his chest. More danger, more death, and … Ambrose. He did know that name. “You mean the Flame is with a Ferryman?” It was unfathomable. It was so dangerous for their kind to begin with, why would this one willingly put themselves in danger?

  Havelir chuckled. “Klavotesi can take care of himself.”

  A male Flame. That was different. Krishani glanced at the ceiling. The veneer crawled into a center point at the very top of the tent. He rubbed his hands along his breeches and closed his eyes. “I don’t have time.”

  Havelir stood. “I can show you the way to the sands, but I won’t enter them.” He pulled back the veneer and motioned for Krishani and Shimma to leave. Tyr hadn’t moved from where Krishani had left him, the guard still holding onto his reins. He gave the guard a stern look and took the horse from him as Shimma followed Havelir around the large tent and to the backside of the compound. Havelir was still barefoot. They passed through a narrow passageway and continued to where the homes of the villagers stretched out for acres. Beyond the houses was another gate and thick pointed trees jutting out of the ground. Havelir escorted them to the gates, opening them only as much as was needed. Krishani gasped. The land was a black and white desert. Bushels of sage dotted the stark landscape. Krishani found the horizon. It rose and fell along the artificial gray sky, outlining shimmering mounds of sand dunes.

  Havelir shook his head. “The treasure in those mounds belongs to King Telper. It isn’t easy to find. Ambrose has been trying to discourage their search for weeks, but they continue to evade him.”

  “And Klavotesi?”

  Havelir scoffed. “Kla has been on Amaltheia for as long as I can remember. You’ll have to deal with him as you see fit.”

  Krishani mounted Tyr and glanced at Shimma. She gave him a wry look as he extended his hand. She mounted, and Krishani didn’t feel her warmth against him. She kept her hands to herself, her body separate from his. He was grateful for her respectful distance.

  “Thank you,” she said to Havelir. Krishani kicked Tyr and the horse jolted into a gallop.

  * * *

  29 - The Sands

  They hit the sands in no time. Mounds striped in shades of gray, thick crystal-like grains surrounded them. Krishani pulled Tyr to the crest of a mound and gazed at the oddly-formed dunes. Some were like crumbling sandcastles, while the rest bellied in peaks and valleys curling around each other. None of the mounds were very tall, but they created space for a curious game of cat and mouse.

  Krishani descended the mound, winding along the solid ground between dunes. He twisted, zigged, zagged and got lost in the mess of it. All he wanted was to find the Flame and go back to Terra. He’d face Crestaos. He’d lose, but it was all he had left. After everything he’d been through, he wanted to look into the eyes of the enemy. He had to see for himself what Kaliel had seen at the top of the mountain. He had to know. Shouts rang out in the distance coupled with clanging metal.

  “They’re near. Stop worrying,” Shimma said. She stuffed a blanket between them, bouncing along the back of the horse. Krishani hadn’t spoken to her since they left King Telper’s Court. His mind was clouded with other thoughts. Nerves raced through him as the shouts grew louder.

  He rounded another dune and collided with a bald man on a black horse. The man wore a long tunic, a sheema loosely hanging around his neck. His skin was a deep gray. He raised his wide deep gray blade and swiped at Krishani. Krishani jerked Tyr’s reins to the left, narrowly avoiding the blow. The bald man rushed past him, hooves scuffing sand as the rider pulled his horse to a stop. Krishani glanced back. The rider swiveled, preparing to roughshod him.

  A moment later, Krishani found more of them in the clearing. Crumbling sandcastles created a wall on the far side while the cat and mouse dunes loosely outlined the other side. The dark gray-skinned men rode in circles around a man on a white horse. The man on the white horse brings death, Krishani thought. Another beside him covered head to toe in black sat atop a pitch black stallion. Krishani did a double take. Ambrose. And Klavotesi, the Obsidian Flame.

  Shimma slipped off the horse before the bald man rushed them. Krishani glance at her, but she shook her head and sprinted away, diving behind the nearest dune. He turned his attention back to Ambrose and Klavotesi, wondering what was going to happen next. The bald man galloped towards Krishani, but the boy continued moving left along the outskirts of the band. The bald man blended into the crowd.

  Most of the thieves were thick burly men with shadowy gray faces and night-black hair. Their horses were the color of clouds on a stormy day. They wore the same loose-fitting black tunics and sheemas, some of which were pulled over their heads. They brandished an interesting armory of broadswords, axes and daggers.

  Krishani pulled out his sword as Ambrose and Klavotesi pulled out theirs. He held it in his infected hand as the circle broke. The clanging continued. Krishani slashed at the air, trying to knock an unsuspecting rider off his horse. The rider slid to the right, but pulled himself back up and galloped in the opposite direction. It was a rough match of rider versus rider. As Ambrose and Klavotesi passed the riders they landed a blow. They were skilled. The thieves jeered, taunting Ambrose and Klavotesi, but none of them actually spoke real words. The fight continued, but both the black-hooded Flame and the man on the white horse hadn’t seemed to notice Krishani. He pulled Tyr around towards the sandcastles and jabbed at one of the men, landing a blow to the shoulder, strong enough to push the rider from his horse. The moment he landed on the ground the horse reared and kicked Tyr square in the side. Tyr stumbled back as the hooves hit him and Krishani jostled around in his seat, fighting to keep his balance.

  Ambrose and Klavotesi gained on the thieves and knocked two more from their horses. Others climbed onto their horses and retreated into the dunes. Ambrose stood over one man who was clutching his leg. Ambrose glanced at Klavotesi who stayed on his horse, but rounded the man. It made Krishani dizzy. Wind kicked up grains of sand and carried them through the air. Ambrose held the sword at the man’s throat. Klavotesi raised his cloaked arm and Ambrose swiftly dug the edge of the sword into the man’s neck. Dark gray blood smeared the sparkling sand as Ambrose pulled the blade out and grasped the man’s hand. He narrowed his eyes and spat in his face before whispering the blessing and threw the man’s hand away.

  Ambrose turned, but Krishani gaped at the wispy white smoke rising out of the body. Knots tightened in his stomach as he waited for the Vultures. Familiar pin pricks made shivers ripple up his spine. He pulled Tyr in circles, looking over the peaks of dunes. A glimmer of black retreated in the distance, black wisps drawing away from them. He frowned and curiously turned towards Ambrose and Klavotesi as Shimma moved into the clearing.

  Ambrose mounted his horse when Shimma emerged from the dunes and he stopped. Ambrose wasn’t like the others. A white ruffled shirt pulled across his chest, accompanied by tights and black fitted boots. A short sword hung from his belt, and decanter dangled on a strap over his shoulder. Unruly gray hair waved in the breeze. He had a smooth but stern expression, his cheeks sagging a bit, but giving none of his age away. His mouth was stretched in a thin line, his eyes sullen. “Lady, you shouldn’t be here,” he said, pulling himself onto the horse. He glanced at Krishani, his eyes bewildered. “Neither sho
uld you!”

  Krishani rubbed Tyr’s mane, trying to soothe him from the kick to his side. Krishani was unable to understand how Ambrose had warded off the Vultures so easily.

  Klavotesi pulled beside Ambrose and they exchanged a glance. Ambrose stiffened and pulled his posture higher on the horse. Shimma stopped a few feet away from the body. She had the lantern in her hands. “State your purpose,” Ambrose said, his gaze hot on Krishani.

  “We came to speak with Klavotesi.” Shimma’s voice wavered with hints of indecision. She glanced at Krishani. He had never seen a Flame as intimidating, strong, and deadly. Krishani refused to say they came to collect Klavotesi, he looked unattainable. He cleared his throat and forced Tyr to take a step forward. “I’m Krishani.” He nodded to Ambrose and only briefly met his eyes.

  Ambrose’s eyes went dark. “You’re new.”

  Krishani nodded, still trying to fathom the idea of Klavotesi. There was a faint glimmer of hope in the familiarity, but the feeling wasn’t a good one. He almost wanted to leave without him, except Klavotesi looked strong enough to take on Crestaos by himself. “Aye,” Krishani muttered.

  “And what do you require of Kla?” Ambrose asked, his voice dripping with venom.

  Shimma stepped forward. “Help.”

  Krishani looked passed Ambrose to Klavotesi. “You know what has happened.” He knew enough about Flames to know Klavotesi could communicate with the others. He wasn’t exempt from their brethren, even if they were scattered across the stars. Their common bond strung them together.

  Klavotesi leaned towards Ambrose and more words were exchanged though Krishani couldn’t hear them.

  Ambrose slid off the horse and Klavotesi followed, his black robes flowing around him. He refused to remove his hood and show his face. He stood behind Ambrose, dark and threatening. Krishani contemplated, then dismounted Tyr and faced Ambrose.