Not if it could find a way to stop it.
* * *
35 - Nothing Left
The rooms were small. Shimma entered, finding Kazza stretched out on the cot, trying to get comfortable. Her sister looked like she was ready to pass out from stress. Kazza always loathed the thought of battle, but she wasn’t going to flee.
Shimma glanced around the room. Three cots lined the walls, a candle sat on a small table in the corner illuminated the room. A square window had been cut into the stones above the only empty bed. Kuruny was on the bed to the far left of the room, Kazza opposite her. Shimma crossed the floor and sat.
“We have a problem,” she said, rubbing her hands along her dress.
“On the contrary, we were successful in Nimphalls,” Kazza said, propping herself on her elbow.
Shimma’s eyes flickered over to Kuruny. She was out cold. “Do you mean to say.…”
Kazza nodded. “We broke the hex.”
“Who were the men following you?”
“Nobody important. Guards. We had days on Nimphalls.” She didn’t need to explain they had taken the blood back and performed the transfusion. Kuruny was probably exhausted from the process.
“Krishani is slipping away,” Shimma whispered, ignoring Kazza’s comment.
“I don’t care about him.”
“Then why are you still here?”
“We can’t leave until she has her strength back.”
“Are you planning on fighting in the battle?”
Kazza gave her sister a perplexed look. “You care about him, don’t you?”
Shimma glanced at her hands and made a face. She hated to admit she had spent enough time with Krishani to know what kind of person he was. There were emotions, but they were murky. She shook her head. “I don’t know how I feel.”
Kazza scoffed and crossed her arms. “You have feelings for him.”
“I’m afraid of him, too.” Knots cinched her stomach muscles as she thought about the beach and the night she found him with his shirt off, but the disease made her shudder.
“Stop thinking about him,” Kazza snapped. She glanced at the door. “I bargained with the dragon riders to allow us to return. As long as we stay on their side, we won’t be harmed.”
“They can’t be trusted!” She balled her hands into fists. “I won’t return with you.”
“You will go where I say you go, sister.”
Kuruny stirred and turned over, but didn’t wake. Shimma felt like Kuruny was the glue holding them together. It was true Shimma was the youngest and that Kazza was the oldest by a technicality, but when Kuruny was immortal, she was the strongest, and that counted for everything.
“Kuruny won’t let them touch her again. She won’t be so foolish,” Kazza said.
“I don’t want to hear this,” Shimma said, her voice shaking. She moved to the door and put a hand on it. “Join me in the battle, if you will.” She slipped into the halls.
• • •
Kuruny’s eyes snapped opened. She looked at Kazza and flinched when the door slammed shut. “What happened?”
Kazza smirked at her. “Our little sister is in love with the Ferryman and is going to go find her death by a sword.”
Kuruny bolted upright and tried to pull together consciousness. Her limbs felt limp and she winced at the heaviness in her head. There was a river of strength flowing underneath the soreness as she stared at the bruises along her arms. “That can’t be.”
“It is so.”
“You did something to me.” Kuruny assessed herself, lifting her dress and finding splotchy purple marks staining her legs. The last thing she remembered was being shown to her room. She was bludgeoned by something, and everything went dark after that. She groaned. “You performed the transfusion.”
Kazza smiled. “I knocked you out first.”
Kuruny buried her hands in her lap. “Thank you,” she said through them even though she felt horrible.
“I want to leave before the battle begins.”
Kuruny’s head swam with vertigo and indecision. She shook it back and forth and felt wobbly. “I won’t leave Krishani to fight on his own.”
“He has an army, we aren’t needed.”
Kuruny sighed. “I saw what he did to the man on the beach. I would rather be loyal to him than hunted.”
Kazza crossed her arms.
• • •
Pux sat at the table in the main hall, eating the final scraps of bread and picking chicken off leftover bones. He was famished, the day’s work cutting into him, making his muscles ache. The past few weeks had been disdainful. He spent most days with the chickens and pigs, chasing them, cleaning up after them, harvesting eggs. He was seen as nothing more than a helping hand by most of the villagers. It was a welcomed difference to the way he had been treated in Avristar. Home was so far away he couldn’t remember how it smelled. The Tavesin compound was disgusting, pigs were smelly, chickens were prissy, and droppings were everywhere.
The table bounced as the doors burst open and elephant-like footsteps pounded against the stone.
“Pux!” Grimand bellowed.
Pux dropped the bread, his eyes wide at the sight of his elder. He felt like a frightened animal caught in a heavy storm. He scurried from his perch on the bench and scaled the wall. He didn’t say anything as Grimand cornered him.
“Have you had enough of your shenanigans?” Grimand asked.
Pux smiled but he wanted to scowl. “Elwen has been a very good host.” He tried to express disapproval, but the words were caught in his throat and he choked them out instead.
“I should send you home,” Grimand said, his eyes blazing at the feorn.
Pux actually felt sad. He worried about Krishani and the battle everyone had been talking about. He knew nothing about fighting, but if it was for Krishani, he would do it. He owed the Ferryman that much. “I don’t want to go back there.”
“Why not?”
“I want to help.”
Grimand paced. “You’ll get hurt. The only reason you were involved in the battle on Avristar was because you transported there and disobeyed the orders of Lady Atara and Lord Istar.”
Pux cowered against the wall. “I would never sit back and let them hurt my friends.” He closed his eyes, anticipating another outburst from his elder.
Grimand shook his head. “You’re hopeless, Pux. You heard the words of the Great Oak … you weren’t meant for this.” He pinched the bridge of his nose with his hairy hands.
Pux felt daggers in his chest. He stood straight, his courage failing, his knees shaking. He neared Grimand, his tone low. “Kaliel wasn’t meant for this either.”
Grimand gasped. “You would say her name? So cavalier, so brave?” He was clearly being sarcastic. His eyes poured over the feorn and he raised his chin. “Fine, ask Lord Tavesin to fit you with armor.” He pushed his chest out as if trying to show his honor, reform and strength, but Pux clenched his fist. He refused to shrivel back into the scared little thing he had always been.
“I’ll see you on the battlefield,” Pux said boldly. He stepped around him, Elwen on the opposite end of the hall conversing with a guard. Avristar warriors in white gold armor marched into the hall. Pux felt like something had smacked him in the face. He turned to Grimand. “When the battle is over, will you tell me how to go home?”
Grimand shook his head. “Aye, feorn, when this is over you can go home.”
Pux grimaced. He wasn’t sure if he would be going home after this, but he couldn’t think about the possibility of dying. “Thank you.”
• • •
Krishani pushed his back into the grass and stared at the sky. Above him the stone walls of the castle spread up to the clouds along with leaves from trees growing near the lake. Between all of that were grayish-blue skies. He felt empty, but wanted rest before the battle came. It was there he would let the Vultures have him. Footsteps crunched the ground next to him and he tilted his head to see the fe
orn’s feet. He looked at the sky again.
“What are you thinking about?” Pux asked, settling on the grass.
“Death.” Krishani didn’t care anymore; whether Pux was his friend or not was irrelevant. He couldn’t protect the feorn from what he was anymore than he could protect anyone else.
“Oh.” Pux was quiet for a long time. “I’m scared.”
“So am I.” Krishani wanted to stave it off, let the fear stay hidden in the depths of his bones, but it was the truth. He couldn’t imagine what Kaliel had to face, and now that it was his turn to look into the eyes of Crestaos, he couldn’t fathom feeling any sense of calm. He sat and rested his arms on his knees. He didn’t bother to hide the disease. It was part of what he was, something they would all have to get used to when the change happened.
“Grimand is here. He says we can go home when this is over,” Pux said.
Krishani glared at him briefly, then turned his attention back to the lake. “He means you can go home. I’m exiled from Avristar, remember?”
“What will you do after the battle?”
Krishani shook his head. The easiest answer was he wouldn’t exist afterwards. “I don’t know.”
“Why did you challenge him?”
“Because I want to end him,” Krishani whispered.
Pux let out the breath he’d been holding in. “Do you think it’s worth it?”
“If we both die, then yes.”
“I don’t want to pretend to know what that means.”
Krishani glanced at him. “It means nothing, Pux. After this battle there will be nothing, because there is nothing.”
“How can you say that? Grimand says Avristar is rebuilding.”
Krishani rubbed his forehead in frustration. “But they will always be missing the most important thing.”
“Oh.” Pux seemed to understand. “There is nothing to lose then, is there?”
“Nothing at all.” He stood and left the feorn to his thoughts.
* * *
36 - The Field of Boulders
Krishani rounded the castle and stopped in his tracks. The loud braying of the battle horn sounded, sending prickles of anticipation up his arms. The enemies had been spotted.
Krishani glanced at the late afternoon sky and imagined black-skinned bodies scampering across the land, leaving a path of destruction in their wake. He watched with idle fascination as the warriors arranged themselves into legions and marched towards the gates. Once upon a time he was supposed to be one of them, adorned head to toe in glimmering white gold armor, wielding a sword and shield. A weight pressed against his chest. Istar wanted to make him a champion. He wanted Krishani to lead those armies. Instead, he hung back, lingering by the steps to Tavesin hall. This was his fight, not theirs; he had no intentions of wasting the remainder of his waning strength.
He wanted Crestaos.
Mallorn grasped Krishani by the cloak and dragged him across the dirt, his feet slipping underneath him. “You should be at the front of the line, boy. Get on the white horse.” He threw him towards the stables.
Disoriented, Krishani fell on his hands and knees. He scrambled to his feet and straightened his cloak, trying to hold his pride and make it seem like he hadn’t fallen. He reached the stable doors and pulled them open. Tyr was in the second stall on his left. He said nothing to the stableboy about Tiki and the lantern. It seemed irrelevant at the time; nobody would notice she was a Flame. Tyr was fitted with a normal riding saddle and no traveling packs. Krishani drew a breath, panic lancing through him. The knapsack sat in the corner of the stall, the lantern still inside.
Krishani grabbed it. Tiki glowed in response.
“I feel him. He’s near,” Tiki said.
Krishani nodded and mounted Tyr. Tiki rested in front of him and he grimaced at the thought of balancing her, the horse, his sword. He dismounted and threw the traveling packs over Tyr’s quarter hind. Numbness spread through him, Tiki’s healing effect forcing even the faintest of emotions onto the other side of the barrier. He wasn’t sure what would happen when the Vultures came for him, but he didn’t want to think about that until it was happening.
He tucked Tiki back into the knapsack and secured the lid. As he backed out of the stable he caught a flash of Clamose on top of a brown horse and Klavotesi atop his midnight stallion. Kuruny, Kazza and Shimma stood by the gates, while the rest of the Avristar warriors waited on the field.
Krishani pulled Tyr towards the gates and caught a flash of the black-skinned creatures breaking through the trees. They were as clumsy as ever. Scurrying across the land in droves, they covered the patches of green with their deformed black bodies. Someone called to the archers, feorns crouched, sending a slew of arrows into the sky. It was like fracturing an ocean wave in half; creatures fell, others trampled them, and they roiled on the field like parasites.
“Savages,” Kuruny said.
Krishani looked down; she stood beside Tyr, her blackish purple eyes on the battlefield. He glanced back at the village—upturned deserted dirt roads, barren smithy. Chickens tarried across the path, looking for stray corn kernels. Krishani’s chest squeezed as Elwen quickened down the path, completely ignoring him. He couldn’t hear what Elwen was saying to the guard, but moments later the gates closed, sealing in the compound, the villagers, and Elwen. Krishani’s mouth hung open. The rat wouldn’t even fight beside him. He wouldn’t even let the guards join the battle. They were there to protect the villagers when the Ferryman lost.
He glanced at Kuruny. “Crestaos is close.” He gazed across the field as the swordsmen moved ahead of the archers and began fighting a sword-and-shield battle against the creatures. There was nothing new about the way the creatures fought. In the fading daylight it was messy. Krishani sat upon Tyr, numb, as the Avristar swordsmen wasted the creatures in staggering numbers. Centaurs, the few that accompanied the armies, lined up against the stone walls. They chuckled in deep baritones as the screams from the battlefield continued in peril for the creatures.
Tyr scuffed the ground and whinnied as Krishani tightened the reins. Klavotesi and Clamose hung near the wall, watching the swordsmen desecrate the black-skinned creatures. Krishani hadn’t learned any of their secrets and was wholly unaware of the magic they possessed or how it would help them in the battle. He briefly thought of Kaliel at the top of the mountain and wondered what she had done. Krishani blanched as a bright blue aura flared off Clamose, a similar black aura spiking from Klavotesi. In one hand Clamose held a sword, the same blue aura encompassing it. Krishani squinted, but the aura gathered, a shimmery blue crown upon Clamose’s head. The Flame’s eyes filled with liquid azurite as the Daed filled the field.
Krishani scanned for familiar faces. Mallorn and Pux were on the field to his right, fighting off the black-skinned creatures with the same skill they had on Avristar. He grimaced. They wanted to do their part, but this was unnecessary; the Avristar army was strong enough to protect them. Krishani didn’t know how Elwen knew about the war, but was grateful for his ancestor’s help. He thought he was going to have to face everything Crestaos brought by himself.
Krishani watched, tension making him want to cave in on himself. The battle poured on until glimmers of the sun’s rays were so faint it was hard to see what was happening. The witches and the centaurs hadn’t moved, each of them waiting for their moment to strike. Krishani froze atop Tyr, his stomach doing flip-flops as more of the creatures emerged from the trees. It was like a plague, the blackness covering the fields, staining it with blood. He dared a glance at his blackened hand and pressed his lips together.
He hadn’t seen a single Vulture yet.
He watched the sky, waiting for their midnight colors to erase the grayish blue, but as the sun slipped over the horizon, the deep gray granite of gargoyles blended into the night. Their leathery wings flapped against the wind as they dove at the creatures, digging their talons into flesh and climbing into the sky.
Krishani followed their flight to t
he tree line.
The Daed strode down the well-worn dirt path towards Castle Tavesin, precision in their steps, arrogance in their strut. Their long robes billowed around them, but their faces stayed concealed by their vast hoods. They pushed creatures out of the way, knocked Avristar warriors on their backs, but never drew their weapons. Krishani squinted, trying to get a better look. One of them touched an Avristar warrior, a swordsman, and he twisted around, cracking his head on a boulder. Krishani stiffened as white smoke trickled out of him. Tyr cried, a reaction to the commotion and Krishani tightened his grip on the reins. He checked the sky again, slithering black tentacles forming above the body. Terror struck as the white smoke floated into the hand of the Vulture. There was no way to stop them. They could hover in the sky and wait for the smoke to find them. They didn’t need to swoop in and take them.
Elwen was right: there was nothing the Ferryman could do to fight against the Vultures. Nothing but the thing he refused to do. He looked at the Vulture, begging it to stay. The black-skinned creatures were dropping like flies, but smoke didn’t rise out of them. Krishani shuddered, realizing they had no souls, nothing to offer the Vultures.
Stabs of the disease reached his thigh. He sucked in a breath, refusing to grab Tiki and ask for help. This was like the darkness he faced in his coma on Avristar. He let the curse rake over him like claws ripping flesh until he was one of them. Warmth spread through his heart; Pux would be there when he changed. Mallorn, the Flames, the witches, Elwen. Everyone that cared about him would watch him change, if they didn’t die by the hands of the Daed first. He couldn’t take off, find somewhere alone to die, it had to be right here, right in the midst of the battle he forced them to fight.
Tyr bristled. The witches had taken off. He caught Shimma’s blonde hair waving in the wind as she faced one of the Daed. She dodged blows, sidestepping and parrying as the Daed warrior stalked her. His hood fell off, silvery hair tumbling down his face. He hastily pushed it away with his free hand, and lunged at Shimma with his sword. She moved in time, elbowing him in the back. He fell and rolled over, a yellow light shining from an orb around his neck. Shimma ran before a bolt of lightning shot into the sky, causing a loud crack to sound across the field.
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