Authors: Rhiannon Paille
Justice (26 page)
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.
Krishani felt dizzy. Elwen appeared to already know what was coming, but how he figured it out, Krishani wasn’t sure. He looked at Shimma. She leaned against a pillar beside Kuruny, whispering to her about something. He couldn’t hear their conversation, but he bet it had to do with Rand and the beach. Turning back to Elwen, he kept his eyes to the red carpet. “I challenged Crestaos.”
Elwen didn’t gasp, but Mallorn did. The elven backed towards the table and shakily sat down. Krishani looked towards the feorn. Pux’s eyes met his, fear registering in them. His mouth opened, but Mallorn held his hand up and Pux looked crestfallen. He dropped his eyes to the grooves in the wood, apparently forbidden to speak.
Krishani carefully raised his eyes to meet Elwen’s. He gulped. “I came to beg you for help.”
Elwen cocked his head to the side. His expression was still livid, but he seemed calm. “Who accompanies you?”
Krishani raised an eyebrow; he didn’t expect that. “The Flames.” He glanced at Klavotesi and Clamose. Tiki was safely tucked away in the lantern in the knapsack on Tyr’s back. The stableboy would never find her.
Elwen’s nostrils flared, but he seemed perplexed. “Do you truly believe that is wise? You can’t fight him with Flames alone.” Kazza coughed and made a noise of protest. Krishani hadn’t forgotten she had said the same thing.
“I came to beg you for an army,” the Ferryman said.
Elwen laughed. “After what you’ve done?”
Mallorn stood and went to Elwen’s side. He put a hand on the lord’s shoulder. “Don’t you learn from your mistakes?” Mallorn’s eyes pierced Krishani’s. He realized the old man was really talking to him, but he only sighed. Klavotesi stood near a stone pillar. He stepped forward as Krishani retreated. He had no strength left in him to fight with Mallorn. He thought the elder was on his side, but clearly Elwen had his loyalty now. It was impossible to win. Avristar was against him, Terra was against him, Elwen, the Daed, the Horsemen, the Valtanyana, and Mallorn. He fell against a wooden support beam, resisting the urge to collapse.
“You cannot deny the foe is on your doorstep. You have a choice to aid in the fight against him, or sentence your people to death. The foe will not yield to peasants.” Klavotesi’s familiar husky voice filled the hall. Krishani felt slightly relieved the Flame was fighting for his cause. Krishani turned, his back still against the pillar.
Elwen paused, his face set in stone. “Who else has accompanied you?”
“Witches!” Mallorn gasped. He pointed at Kazza and then at Shimma and Kuruny with his bony fingers. Krishani sighed. They weren’t hard to mistake, the three of them with their contrasting features and the beads around their necks.
Krishani closed his eyes, full of guilt and regret. Fear battered around inside of him like a banshee wanting to be free. Mallorn and Elwen’s words meant little to him anymore. All he could think about was the face of Crestaos. He was exhausted, but he opened his eyes and forced himself to look at Mallorn. “They were willing to help.…” He clenched his fist, trying to find his inherent strength. “More than once.”
Mallorn shot him a lethal glare then turned his attention to Elwen. “The Obsidian Flame is right. Crestaos won’t yield. Tell Krishani what he needs to know.”
Elwen stood and passed Klavotesi. “The armies of Avristar are on their way.”
“You knew about the war?” Krishani asked, incredulous.
Elwen nodded, but shot him a vile look.
“And you thought it would teach Krishani a lesson if you didn’t give him what he wanted so easily?” Klavotesi said. It wasn’t a question that required an answer.
“This is my land under my rule. You will show me your honor,” Elwen said. He sounded bored.
Klavotesi drew his sword and held it across Elwen’s throat. “With pleasure.” He pushed the blade into the skin.
Elwen’s eyes widened. “What are you?” he coughed, backing away.
Klavotesi removed the blade. “I am the Obsidian Flame of Justice. I hail from Amaltheia.”
Elwen fell on his back and tripped on his own feet as he tried to pull himself up. Kazza chortled. Krishani shot her a look that he made sure said to shut up. Elwen dusted himself off as Klavotesi slid his sword into the scabbard.
Elwen bowed his head to him. “You are welcome in my court, Flame.” He said it with a forced cordiality that made Krishani want to vomit.
“It seems you have provided what we need.” Klavotesi moved towards the doors, ignoring the others. Krishani glanced behind him and noticed both Kuruny and Shimma were seated at the table.
Elwen sat on the throne, his eyes still full of anger. “I hope this battle proves who you are.” He motioned to the servant hanging in the wings and whispered something to them. “And I suppose you are all famished.” His gaze washed over the others. Krishani said nothing as he moved to the wooden table and sat down, waiting for food.
“Welcome home,” Pux whispered. He looked small and weak, nothing like the mischievous feorn he had been on Avristar.
“Have you been well?” Krishani asked.
Pux fidgeted and looked away. “I work with the animals all day.”
He nodded. “You will be able to return home soon.”
Pux shook his head. “I like the animals. They’re much better than humans.” He smiled and the devilishness in his spirit seemed to poke out of the clouds beleaguering his disposition.
Krishani almost felt like he was at home when Pux smiled like that. They were interrupted by a tray of bread landing on the table. He grabbed a piece. Pux grabbed two and began gobbling them down. A well of happiness mushroomed in Krishani’s chest. The feeling was both foreign and bitter. He liked seeing Pux like this, the way Kaliel would have wanted to see him. He wasn’t sure what she would think of Mallorn, however. The elven had become Elwen’s consul. Krishani feared what else had happened while he was fighting off Vultures and collecting Flames.
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33 - The Disease
Krishani descended the steps and rounded the castle. He couldn’t take it anymore. The hall was stifling, his heart a stone in his chest. Klavotesi spent the last few hours sharing battle strategies. Mallorn told stories of his times on Talanisdir, and the others offered their most gruesome tales. Everyone had a different idea about the battle and none of them gave Krishani a chance to speak. They seemed convinced he was useless.
Krishani skirted the dirt path, patches of grass jutting out of the mud. The castle walls were high and thick with stone. He moved towards taller trees in the midst of the compound. Their leaves cast shadows across the ground as the sun slunk towards the horizon. Cabins lined the walkways that split off the main road, parts of them hidden between the trees. Most of them had barrels and wooden boxes on the porches. There was no cozy feeling to them. The cabins looked like they had been built quickly and without any thought to location. Terra was like that—everything haphazardly scattered across the land like nobody cared enough to make it beautiful. It was one of the things Krishani would never get used to—a dead land bereft of a voice. He stifled a breath as he continued towards the back of the castle and noticed a cabin situated on a tower. It could have been a watchtower for all he was concerned. Stairs led to a wide porch and triangular roof. It overlooked the rest of the village. It was too big to be a watchtower and he wondered who would live up there. At the foot of the house, thick wooden logs created a reliquary, inside of which were stacks of firewood. He continued down the trail, past bushes poking out from the stone walls, more trees on the left. The trail sloped downwards and led to a narrow lake. Krishani traced the edges of it. The banks led to walls ensnaring the compound. The walls cut the lake off, stone forming a narrow bridge. The lake was shabby. It narrowed near the castle and widened near the edges of the stone walls. Sun glinted off the water, casting flecks of light into his eyes. Krishani held up a hand and squinted.
“Beauty hides in plain sight on Terra,” Shimma said, climbing down the slope. She stood on the shore beside him.
He sighed. “You mean it mimics beauty and fails in comparison.”
“I suppose.” She followed as he climbed the muddy shore littered with intermittent patches of grass.
“I’m sorry about what happened on the beach.” He wasn’t sure if that’s what she was coming to talk about. He wanted to be alone because all this talk about strategy was giving him a headache. They talked about it like they were going to beat Crestaos, and Krishani knew it was impossible.
“Oh,” Shimma said. Her eyes trailed over him and he became self-conscious. He looked at his breeches and tunic. For once he wasn’t wearing a cloak and he felt naked without it. Her fingers spread between the blades of grass as she sat and looked at the lake. “I’d like to forget it.”
Krishani hung his head. “I can’t.” He kicked the grass, lacing his fingers together as he pressed them against the back of his head. He turned in a circle, his mind attempting to fathom the battle awaiting him. His time on Avristar felt like eons ago, the days of his youth so far behind.
“Everything has changed,” Shimma whispered.
Krishani pulled his hands in front of his face. The curse was ever present on his right hand, sparks of it coiling down his left arm. He felt it in the bottom of his left foot, faint, but there, changing him. The only thing the disease hadn’t taken was his heart. Krishani thought the Vultures would save that for last.
“It’ll be over soon.” He sat.
Shimma opened her mouth but closed it again. They sat in silence, saying nothing for a long time. “I’ve killed before, men who deserved it. I don’t know if Rand deserved it.”
Krishani faltered, brought back to the thought of the elder on the beach. He didn’t want the weight of what the Ferryman was and what he fought to be a secret anymore. He remembered how scared Shimma looked when he killed Rand. For her that was rare.
“If I tell you what happened, will you be satisfied?”
Shimma sighed. “I barely recognize you anymore. You’re different without her.”
The words stung and Krishani ran his blackened hand through his hair. He pieced together the words in his head, but all of them sounded wrong.
“I don’t understand what you are,” she said.
Krishani looked at the water; wind rippled across it, shallow waves crinkling the smooth surface. “Rand called me death. I wanted him to see that I can’t choose who I am, or what I am. The Vultures will exist whether I do or not.”
Shimma frowned, confusion crossing her blue eyes. In the light of the afternoon sun she looked older but not wiser. Her blonde hair frizzed and fell over her shoulders like a limp rag. Her cheeks were pallid, her lips chapped like she had been incessantly chewing on them.
“It was only you and Rand on the beach,” she said.
Krishani laughed, but it was only out of irony. “You would see them if you were dying. Or if you were me.” He glanced at her, his eyes full of sorrow. “You felt them, though, right?”
Shimma pulled her eyebrows together. “The cold?”
Krishani nodded. “Rand was right. I did bring death, but the Vultures brought something worse. They’re soul-eaters.” The words felt wrong as they passed his lips and he scowled.
Shimma shivered and rubbed her arms. “I hope I never feel that cold again.”
Krishani shifted uncomfortably. The Vultures would be there when Crestaos came. They’d sweep in to tempt him, take him to their numb, shadowy, graveless place. His eyes skimmed over the water as he tried to soak in the last beautiful thing he figured he would ever see. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters.”
“What do you mean?”
He held his right hand out and she stared at it. “This isn’t a plague.”
Shimma scowled, confused. Her eyes met his for a brief moment. He dropped his gaze, tracing the blades of grass. “I’ll be a Vulture when this battle is over,” he whispered, his tone flat.
Shimma balked, swaying in the grass and putting her hands flat on the ground to stop herself. She glanced at him, her eyes knifing into him. “What was it about her that has you so willing to throw your life away?”
Krishani didn’t look at her. He rested his forearms on his knees and glanced at the sinking sun. A warm wind kicked up, tousling his hair and rippling the water. He didn’t want to talk about Kaliel, not when he knew he’d never be with her again. Not when he knew it didn’t matter what he was anymore. He wasn’t supposed to be with her in the first place. Their meeting at the waterfall was a mistake, everything including the explosions and the snow. He gritted his teeth and thought about what Elwen said. Ten thousand years and she wouldn’t know who he was. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Can you stop it?”
Krishani stood and brushed himself off. He looked at the sky. Shimma jumped to her feet and grabbed his arm but he ripped it away, the familiar sting of repulsion hitting him.
“Answer me. Can you stop it?” Her voice was an octave higher than usual.
“I don’t think I want to stop it.”
It was the admittance that made him feel cold inside as he left her standing on the mound shocked and scared. There was honor in fighting for Kaliel, in facing Crestaos and trying to defeat him. No honor lay in succumbing to the will of the Vultures. Once he was one of them, it wouldn’t matter if the Valtanyana lived or died, if Morgana awakened the others and used them to bring Tor to his knees. There would never be peace again.
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