Justice

by Rhiannon Paille

  “That name brings me anger.”

  Elwen glanced at him. “How will I know?”

  Tor glanced at Talina, who had a worried look on her face. He closed his eyes and bowed his head to her, taking her hand in his. “All will be well, love.” He kissed her hand again. She nodded, the creases in her forehead smoothing out. Elwen lost his footing as he tried to stand, caught himself, then straightened.

  “Do we have an accord?” Tor asked.

  Elwen shook his head. “I’m afraid.”

  “You have the strongest Ferryman in the history of time.”

  “He left!”

  Tor was unconcerned by his outburst. “He will return.”

  “After what has happened on Avristar?”

  Tor almost flinched at the mention of Avristar. He shifted his weight and pulled his vest taut over his spry features. “That problem has been rectified.”

  “My Ferryman is ruined,” Elwen mumbled.

  Tor stared down the immortal ancestor of the Tavesin family. He pressed his lips into a thin line and glanced at Talina. Her expression was well-mannered.

  He turned back to Elwen and took a few steps towards him. “I have done you a favor, Elwen.” His face was only inches away from his. Tor smelled fear on him; it was stronger than it had ever been before. He almost believed Elwen was afraid of dying.

  “Wh-what favor is that?”

  Tor threw a hand into the air. “I have gathered the armies of Avristar for you. They will arrive in two days’ time.”

  Elwen gagged. “Why do I need an army?”

  Tor eyed the beauty of Talina with reverence and pride as he neared her and thought of running his hands through her hair. He stopped short and turned to face Elwen. “You will meet Crestaos soon enough. Your Ferryman challenged him to a duel.” His lips broke into a wide smile. The bravery and the defiance pleased him to no end.

  “He would never—”

  Tor coruscated. “If he has a death wish, he would.” He pulled his cane out from behind the throne and twirled it in his hands, then tossed the box down the stairs where it landed on the last step, looking radiant. It emitted its own glow. Tor felt a pinprick in his chest as he thought of what was inside the box. In truth, he loathed the idea of giving up something so important to him, but he couldn’t argue with the voice of the Great Hall and Avristar. In this instance, they were in agreement. He brushed the thoughts of catastrophe from his mind and tipped his hat to Elwen, who still looked mortified. He skipped past him and headed towards the doors. He swiveled and stopped short. “I forgot something.” He cocked his head to the side.

  “Yes, my lord?” Elwen grumbled. He seemed happy to see Tor leave.

  “If any other tries to open the box, they will be cursed with the curse of a thousand deaths.” It was his favourite curse, and seemed only fitting. He took a deep breath. “The contents of that box are precious, mark my warning.” He strode toward the doors. He pulled out the pocket watch and turned back to the throne. “Talina, darling, it was a pleasure to see you.”

  She gracefully rose from the throne and flitted across the floor towards him. She gently embraced him and kissed him on the cheek. “Where will I find you?”

  He pulled back and rested his hands on her shoulders. “I must return to eighteen-seventy-three. I have a fondness for a blonde that sings at the most fabulous Opera House in London.”

  Talina frowned, confusion clouding her hazel eyes. He didn’t bother to explain. As far as Talina knew there was no such place as London, no such thing as Opera Houses. He kissed her on the cheek again, remembering when he was. London wouldn’t exist for a few thousand years.

  “Be well,” she said.

  Tor glanced at the pocket watch and vanished from the hall without as much as a puff of smoke.

  * * *

  32 - The Azurite Flame

  Krishani woke to the staggering realization he wasn’t alone. Methodical breathing flushed above him, the shadowy form of the Obsidian Flame standing over the bed. He jolted off the bed, startled by the Flame. He forgot about last night. His legs ached, every bend causing his muscles to contract. He grabbed the back of the rocking chair and hung his head, trying to catch his breath. He passed out from fatigue after the ordeal with Aulises; not even Morgana could visit him he was so deep. Pangs of anxiety raced across his chest as he thought of Crestaos and the impending doom.

  Klavotesi didn’t say anything. He turned on his heel and stalked out of the cabin, leaving the door wide open, gusts of cold wind zipping through the doorframe. Krishani sucked them in, his head swirling with irrational thoughts. He had three of the Flames, and could beat Crestaos if he also had an army except he didn’t know where to get an army. He fell on his knees and raked his hands through his hair, oily black strands between his fingers.

  He needed Kaliel.

  Crestaos wouldn’t face Tor without her. Klavotesi had been clear about that. Even if everything they talked about around the fire was a blur, that stood out.

  Footsteps approached. He looked up to see Shimma, her blue dress and white apron soiled, her wavy blonde hair surrounding her shoulders. Dull blue eyes met his. She appeared distressed.

  “We have to go.” She didn’t wait for a response, bounding down the steps. Krishani pulled his hands out of his hair and looked at them. The right one was black as night, the disease making quick work of the transformation. His left hand had a sliver of black on it, like a fracture dividing his hand in half. It spread haphazardly along the contours of his skin, jagging along uneven pores. He pulled himself to his feet, letting his cloak fall over his hands, and stalked out of the cabin.

  Krishani mounted Tyr and pulled Shimma up onto the saddle behind him. He avoided eye contact with Klavotesi and Aulises. He felt nothing but contempt for her. She was an illusionist, a thief, a harlot, hiding behind innocence. It was impious. There was only one person in the world that should look like the girl he lost, and she had been blown apart by a volcano.

  They pulled the horses up the rocky pass he had traversed once before. Silence ensued as they tread along the thin, sunken path. They wended around trees and balanced on the edge of a steep slope covered with skinny birches. Their broad leaves waved light green flags in the air, creating a pleasant sour scent on the wind. It was nothing like the sweetness of the air in Avristar, but it was enough to build a false sense of comfort.

  They reached the place where Krishani had abandoned Mallorn and Pux. Traces of their camp were faint, but apparent. Klavotesi dawdled, pulling his stallion away from the narrow path through the trees. He pulled the reins to the right and the horse nickered in protest.

  “We need to find the main road.” He turned and faced Krishani, his hood still showcasing an abyss.

  Krishani sighed and looked down the slope. Water babbled over rocks, the sound wafting into his ears. He nodded. “That way.” He pulled his horse into the lead and went down the slope. Tyr hit the shallow water hard and fought against him to lap it up. Krishani jerked at the reins. Shimma let out an exasperated cry and tried to pat Tyr’s backside, but the horse was strong and uncooperative. Krishani watched Klavotesi and his stallion gracefully pull out of the water. Aulises tightly clung to his back as if trying to blend into him as he pulled up the incline.

  Krishani groaned as Tyr hit the shore and wound around the clusters of trees. He could no longer see Klavotesi in front of him. He passed the ring of burnt trees and his stomach did flip-flops. He never meant to let Pux get hurt by the Horsemen. Mallorn was right: Terra was no place for a feorn. He wondered what happened to Kaliel’s best friend since he had left. Elwen was ignorant, and Pux deserved a chance to return to Avristar.

  He sighed. But Pux would have to fight again. He hadn’t thought of that when he challenged the Daed. He hadn’t thought of the witches, Mallorn, Elwen or Pux. He rolled his shoulders, attempting to shake off the feeling.

  “Stop!” Klavotesi called from the main road.

  Krishani tensed, his shoulders c
ontracting, and pushed Tyr forward. He pulled onto the dirt road and looked both ways down the path. It was a clear day; flat white clouds drifted across the sky, the morning sun beating down on them. Tyr whinnied and scraped his hooves along the ground. White or not, he wasn’t Davlin’s horse and that made him weak.

  Klavotesi said nothing as he trotted towards Castle Tavesin. Krishani ambled along behind him. They hit the cover of trees and heard shouts in the distance. Krishani listened, hoping for a sense of the sound’s direction. Another shout. They were coming from the northwest. Flashes of three bodies chased across the forest brush. They hit the dirt road. One of them crossed it, getting tangled in the bushes. The others fell on their hands and knees, rolling onto their backs. Klavotesi’s black stallion reared, pushing its legs into the air, threatening to crush the strangers.

  Shimma slid off the horse. Krishani knew why. “Kuruny!” she called as the black stallion backed up and landed on the ground. She pulled her sister to her feet. Kuruny’s ashen face was stained with mud, her raven hair a disheveled mess. She glanced at the trees and wrung her hands along her sides. Kazza and the other boy scrambled to their feet and dusted themselves off.

  “What happened?” Shimma asked.

  “They followed us.” Her eyes wide and fearful. She glanced into the brush again and her shoulders shook. Before anyone had a chance to think or react, Krishani saw the outlines of hunters scampering through the woods. Shimma stiffened and glanced at him. He put his hand on his sword.

  Klavotesi jerked the reins and turned to face the hunters. “Stay behind me.”

  The four of them withdrew to the opposite end of the path, huddling near a rock flanked by two bushes. They crouched as the stallion neighed and huffed. The hunters broke through the trees, daggers swinging in the air. Kla lowered his sword and turned it so the blade was concealed. One of them tried to land a blow to his leg and he whipped the sword forward and lopped his head off.

  Krishani swung at the other one. He missed on the first try, but turned and sunk the sword into the hunter’s back shoulder. It wasn’t enough to kill the man, but as he pulled his sword out the hunter dropped. He glanced at Kla, and at the sky. Ice crawled up his skin, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. The Vultures. The other man’s head lay at his feet and the body wasn’t far off. He hung his head and muttered the blessing, the wispy smoke rising out of the body. He looked at the sky again, but there was no sign of black storms.

  Klavotesi stiffened. “It isn’t as hard as you think to keep them at bay.” He sounded disappointed and glared at the others crowded by the rocks. “You found The Azurite Flame.” He pulled his stallion down the path.

  Shimma stood and looked at the hunters. One of them stirred, but wasn’t about to burst into action. She turned to Kuruny, who was appeared dumbfounded at the severed head. “Did you find a way?”

  Kazza smiled, sauntering past the head, her white dress scraping against the dirt, long brown hair waving in the wind. “There were plenty of things in the catacombs.” She glanced at the Azurite Flame—short brown hair, gray trousers, sweater vest, loafers. The clothing was too modern for Terra, but perfect for Nimphalls. The Flame eyed Krishani as the Ferryman sheathed his sword.

  “So you’re the Ferryman,” the Flame said, extending his hand.

  Krishani didn’t take it. “I’m Krishani.”

  “Clamose.”

  The Flame shot him a wistful smile, his youthful features crinkling into wrinkles. It was an awkward transformation. When he held his face still he looked no older than thirty, but when he smiled, it was as though he was hundreds of years old. Krishani thought the illusion was deceiving.

  “One day you will forget that name.” Clamose shoved his hands into his pockets and walked down the path. There was something about this Flame Krishani didn’t like. Klavotesi interrupted, snapping the reins, forcing his stallion into a swift gallop.

  Shimma glanced at Krishani. “Go, we’ll be behind you.”

  Krishani shook his head and took off after Klavotesi.

  • • •

  Krishani broke through the trees and found Klavotesi off his stallion. The Flame carefully traced his steps, counting paces as he wended around the boulders scattered across the field outside of the Tavesin compound. Krishani pulled the reins, bringing Tyr to a stop. The horse whinnied in protest, but Krishani slipped off his back and ran his hands along his mane, attempting to sooth him. Tyr let out a blow from his nostrils, lifting his front hooves off the ground.

  Krishani sighed, his hand on his muzzle. “Soon.” He had known Umber and Rhina long enough to know when they wanted food and Tyr was always hungry.

  “The battle will be here,” Klavotesi said, returning to the dirt path. Krishani wound Tyr’s reins around his hand. He bristled, not wanting Klavotesi to tell him more about the battle. He was uncomfortable in this Flame’s presence. Something about him caught Krishani off guard.

  Klavotesi cast a sidelong glance at the fields. They were covered in patches of light and shadows, big clouds drifting by making the land seem safer than it was. Goosebumps rose across Krishani’s skin. He glanced at the gates to the compound. He was so close to facing his fate, returning to his ancestor, waiting for the battle to begin.

  “Any advice?” he asked.

  Klavotesi sighed. “I don’t know the likes of those beasts.” He left out the part about Krishani not having an army, about him having a handful of villagers, three Flames and three witches. It wasn’t nearly enough to expect victory.

  “I’ve seen them before.” Images of the black-skinned creatures flickered behind his eyes. Footsteps shook the ground as the others caught up. They were running at breakneck speed, bursting through the forest and spilling into the field. Clamose, wheezing, doubled over as he neared Tyr.

  “I’m not built for battle,” he said.

  Kuruny, Kazza and Shimma were on his heels. They seemed fine. They stopped and Kazza gave him a look. “This is madness.”

  Krishani looked at Klavotesi for help, but he was already on the other side of the road, looking for something that might give them the upper hand. There had to be a way to win, a way to trap Crestaos. Maybe the Flame had an ability he hadn’t shown off yet? The Flames were like Kaliel: they all had something mystical about them, a special ability unto themselves. Klavotesi was glacial and unfriendly. Krishani doubted Klavotesi would tell him any of his secrets and he wasn’t stupid enough to ask.

  Kuruny stepped in front of Krishani, blocking his view of the fields. She glowered. “What happened on the beach?”

  Krishani staggered back and tried to make it look casual. “I—” He broke off, unable to face their concerned eyes. “I don’t know.”

  “You killed him. You owe an explanation,” Kuruny said. She had a very different countenance about her, strong, powerful. Krishani noticed a hint of deep purple flecks in her coal-black eyes. He flinched, remembering the amulet that had knocked him out for days. He took Tyr by the reins and pulled the horse towards the gates. It was the last place he wanted to be and the last thing he wanted to do, but he had no choice. He couldn’t risk angering Kuruny anymore than he already had. He shook his head as he walked. “There’s a war coming.”

  Kuruny huffed, but gave up as they neared the gates. Krishani called to the guards and the gates opened, ushering them into the compound. It smelled like soot, burnt wood and feces, the people busy laboring. Krishani felt their eyes on him as he led the witches and the Flames to the hall. He said nothing to the stableboy as he left Tyr with him. The horse needed food, a bath, and a healer. He rounded the dirt walkway and ascended the steps to the castle. He glared at the guards as he pushed open the doors and walked across the red carpet.

  Elwen wasn’t there.

  Krishani turned to the others as they entered. Klavotesi abandoned his stallion, looking pensive as he seemed to assess the drab hall. Kuruny neared Krishani, her eyes blazing.

  “I won’t forget what you’ve done,” she hissed.<
br />
  Krishani shrugged, glancing at the heavy doors. Elwen Tavesin strode into the hall in his brown and gold robes. His wavy brown hair was slicked back and greasy, his mouth surrounded by thick grayish-brown facial hair. He curiously glanced at the travelers, passed Krishani, and sat on the throne. Krishani narrowed his eyes until they were slits, his pulse beating in his ears. He still hated Elwen as much as he did before, only he had to remain calm. He couldn’t lash out at him when he needed help. Someone else entered the hall and Krishani’s gaze trailed over to them. Mallorn was clad in the gray robes he had worn on Avristar, a sash around his waist. Long white hair flowed around his shoulders and his blue eyes looked tired. Pux was on his heels, malnourished and skinny. Krishani’s heart warmed when he saw the feorn.

  “Krishani!” Mallorn gasped and stopped in his tracks. Pux stopped, too, his eyes wide and his mouth opened, but no words came out. Mallorn glanced at the others, but Krishani could tell the old man had no idea who they were. He didn’t even recognize the witches.

  Krishani cleared his throat. “Greetings.” He tried to sound nonchalant as Mallorn took him by the shoulders and looked him over. Krishani met his blue eyes and Mallorn nodded as if satisfied. He stepped away, his eyes trailing over the others. “You found them?” he asked.

  Krishani nodded. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Pux wave to him. The feorn moved to the long table. Clamose, Kazza and Aulises followed him. Krishani was trying his best to ignore her. “I found them.” Pride almost filled his heart until he remembered why he was there in the first place.

  “Why have you returned?” Elwen’s crisp tone cut through the room.

  Krishani looked past Mallorn, his throat cinching. “I come with ill news, Ancestor.” He didn’t want to show Elwen respect, but with the need of his help he couldn’t show the rat his true feelings.

  Elwen fixed his gaze on Krishani and snorted. “You have put us all in danger.” He sneered, locking his fingers together and cracking his knuckles.