Authors: Rhiannon Paille
Justice (6 page)
Kaliel grimaced. He hadn’t even paid enough attention to know who she was and he began to realize how segregated he was from everyone else. “Kaliel.”
They continued back to the porch. He sat down and continued carving while she watched. It turned out to be a deer, and she loved it.
Pux sighed as he opened his eyes and looked at the frostbitten branches above his head. He never loved Kaliel the way Krishani had. To Pux, she was his little sister. He knew she would leave Evennses eventually, but he never thought she would have died. He buried his head in his hands as he let himself grieve.
* * *
7 - Snow
Mallorn stared at the rolling hills of Orlondir. It was late afternoon, the clouds thinning, showing off shades of pink and orange from the west. There were no words to describe the heaviness he felt. Bodies had been cleared from the battlefield, but the bloodstained snow remained. Blades of grass idly poked out of the snow; it was melting.
The wind stung his cheeks and he turned away, retreating into the folds of his gray cloak. His head throbbed with faint memories of the battle, fragmented pieces awkwardly fitting together. This couldn’t be reality. Kaliel awakened Avred, the dangerous volcano, and it unleashed its fury on the land. The enemies retreated. How could her death be truth? Another gust of wind blew across the plains and whipped his face. He turned to the stables and went inside. Umber munched on hay, but paused when the Kiirar looked at him.
“Home?” Umber said.
“Soon,” Mallorn said. He patted the horse’s back and his one black eye fixed on the Kiirar.
“I miss it there,” Umber replied.
Mallorn sighed. “There may be nothing left.”
“The girl’s scent is in the barn.”
“Aye, that will remain.”
“Can we go now?”
Mallorn thought for a moment, and shook his head. He didn’t need to say it for the horse to understand. It hung its head and continued chomping on strands of hay. Mallorn glanced at the fields again. It happened too fast, the enemy upon them, the explosion, waking to the aftermath. Sadness clung to everyone living on Avristar, whether child or elder.
Or neither.
Mallorn furrowed his brow, another sickly emotion hitting him. He closed his eyes and saw the mismatched irises of the Ferryman staring at him as he returned from the Village of the Shee. Krishani didn’t care about anything, but the well being of Kaliel. Mallorn didn’t blame the boy for his foolish love. There was nothing he could do about the way the Ferryman felt about the Flame.
Unlike the rest of Avristar, Krishani was a stranger. Being raised by the elders didn’t mean he belonged. Istar knew that and kept the truth about the boy’s heritage from the Gatekeeper. He knew enough about Avristar’s history to know she didn’t get along with Avred, the island would be divided. Mallorn feared neither spirits of the land would have mercy.
Not when Krishani betrayed the land itself.
The land he was meant to marry.
Mallorn turned from the fields and quickened his pace as he entered the servant’s hall. He turned into the kitchen, searching for spirit of hartshorne. The ingredient was rare, used during combat training. He faintly smiled as he recalled the only combat training he introduced Kaliel to.
Eventually Mallorn would need to take to his home in Nandaro. See if the horses were alive. He had neighbors to check on, smaller villages to tell the story of the battle to. He would keep Kaliel’s memory alive, make sure all the Kiirar in Nandaro knew of the Flame that touched their lands. The chaos wasn’t her fault. Crestaos had always been an insatiable beast. He wasn’t the most deadly of the Valtanyana, but he was one of the craziest. Mallorn feared he was still out there, getting closer to his ultimate goal. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the present. He looked through the cupboards until he found the jar and pulled out a long strand of spirit of hartshorn. He folded it into his palm and darted into the hallway.
Krishani both intrigued and scared him in a way he hadn’t encountered in thousands of years. Istar was clearly uninterested in unraveling the boy’s secrets, which left Mallorn to satisfy his own curiosity. Provided he wasn’t too late.
He reached the end of the hall and climbed the stairwell to the west wing. With any luck Melianna wouldn’t be guarding his near-to-death carcass.
• • •
The sound of the waterfall almost drowned out Kaliel’s voice. Krishani ignored the mist drenching him; his eyes fixed on her sopping-wet features. Dripping strands of white hair framed her face, green eyes shy and curious. She was poised at the mouth of the cave, hands curled around the edge. She mouthed something barely audible and Krishani smiled.
Her ivory dress was dry, clinging to her clammy body. She tiptoed through the grass and he noticed the delicate curves in her feet. She had pretty toes. Krishani trudged along behind her, his cloak dragging across the grass. It was heavy, the bottom of it soaked with dew.
“What are you thinking about?” Krishani asked.
She paused, facing him, her green eyes sparkling even in the shadowy cavern. “Snow.”
He frowned. “Why are you always thinking about that?” He slid his hand into hers and idly rubbed his thumb along the center of her palm.
She shivered at his touch, blushing. He almost smirked at the reaction; he knew too well what kind of effect he had on her. Her eyes skimmed the grass and she gulped. “I want you to show it to me again.”
Krishani sighed. The cloak felt heavier and in an attempt to ease the weight he shrugged it off. He glanced at the waterfall and recalled the first night they met. He turned water to ice, giving Kaliel something to remember him by. Knots formed in his stomach. Since the time of his departure from Amersil, he hadn’t been able to repeat the task. He shook his head. She twirled a strand of hair between her fingers, looking nervous.
He smirked. “Tell me why.”
“Why what?”
“Why you want me to make snow.”
Kaliel thought for a moment. “To know that magic exists.”
Krishani laughed. “You know it does. You do more of it than I do.”
Kaliel crossed her arms and stuck out her bottom lip. “What I do isn’t fascinating.”
“So … I fascinate you?” he asked, taking a step closer and narrowing his eyes. His heart thudded as her eyes locked with his. She bit her lip and took her hands off his forearms.
“Maybe.”
He pulled her against him. She wrapped her arms around him and tried to avert her gaze. “You’re intrigued by me?” he mumbled.
Kaliel lightly grimaced. She pressed her face into his shirt and shook her head against him. “I still want the snow.”
Krishani locked her in his embrace. He pulled her feet off the ground and twirled around. She squealed and laughed. He eased her onto the ground and kissed her chastely. “Is that all it is? You stay with me, waiting for me to make snow?”
Kaliel rolled her eyes and bounded out of the cave. She turned when she reached the mouth and looked at him. “Dawn comes!” She went to skip down the stone steps, but poked her head around the corner while Krishani picked up his cloak and fitted it around his shoulders. “And aye, I definitely like you only because you can make snow.” She giggled again and retreated down the steps.
The cloak pressed on his shoulders. It was like it weighed a thousand pounds more than it did when he had taken it off. He tried to take a step forward, but faltered. He could barely move. The cloak pressing against him made him sick. It smelled different, strong and revolting. He knelt on the cave floor and closed his eyes. The smell worsened. He gulped trying to withstand it. Everything around him faded, the stench becoming his only reality. He tried to pinch his nose shut, but that made him woozy. He succumbed to the feeling and let the scent wash over him. It came in waves. When he opened his eyes he wasn’t in the cave, and in a panic he remembered Kaliel was dead.
He waited for limbo to encompass him in nothingness, but instead the steady thump of his heartbeat sounded as he rushed to the surface of his distrait form. He clawed against it to avoid inhabiting reality, but the scent pulled him in, forcing him to twitch and stir. He sucked in a breath and opened his eyes. Shadows flickered along the ceiling, the scent filling the room. Krishani groaned. Every part of his body ached. His heart felt like it pumped poison through his veins. He stared at the ceiling for a long time, letting tears create oceans in his eyes.
“Krishani,” someone said.
He wanted to ignore whoever it was, but all he could do was avoid looking at the person who spoke. He looked at the dresser. The stool was empty and an open book sat face down on top of it. He let his eyelids droop, but the scent wafted through the air again and he snapped to attention. He involuntarily glanced in the direction of the scent. Mallorn sat on the edge of the bed, waving an herb in the air.
“You cannot avoid life forever, boy,” he said.
Krishani groaned and pushed himself onto his elbows. His body felt stiff and unmovable. He winced and swung his legs over the bed away from Mallorn. His boot-clad feet touched the floor. He looked at his reflection in the mirror above the dresser. The planes of his cheekbones were sallow. Dark shadows gathered under his mismatched eyes, both of them containing their own storm of grief. He looked as dead as he felt and shied away from his reflection.
He took slow, shallow breaths, listening to the heaving of his lungs and the beating of his heart. Every move felt deliberate, as though he had to force his body to do what it used to do naturally. He continued to survey the floor as he tried to piece together what he wanted to say. After a long silence, he said the only thing he was thinking.
“Why am I alive?” His voice didn’t sound like his own. It was deep and raspy.
Mallorn sighed. “Because you are.”
“I shouldn’t be.”
Mallorn gulped and recoiled. He shifted his weight on the bed and leaned over to put the spirit of Hartshorne on the end table. “She did everything she could to make sure you lived.”
Tears stung Krishani’s face as the words stabbed him. There were less harsh things Mallorn could have said. “She wouldn’t force me to live without her.”
“But you do. And you must.” Mallorn took a deep breath, crossed the room and stood over Krishani, towering above him.
Krishani looked at the vacant space along the wall and shook his head. “I was too late.” He choked on the words, burying his face in his hands. “I let her die.” His hands were wet with tears as his shoulders shook. “I never should have left her side.” He didn’t want to look at Mallorn. The Kiirar was guilty, too, taking Kaliel to Avred, trusting in his guidance. He shouldn’t have let her face the volcano alone.
“You cannot change the past,” Mallorn said.
Krishani took a sniveling breath and exhaled. “What am I supposed to do?”
“You must live, even when living is excruciating. This too will pass.”
Krishani gritted his teeth. “I vow to you that this pain will never pass.” His words echoed off the walls.
Mallorn avoided the boy’s glare and backed towards the door. Krishani looked at him with vacant eyes. He wanted to blame Mallorn for everything, but it wasn’t his fault. Krishani tightened his hand into a fist. His expression turned deadly as he thought about Istar. Mallorn paused in the doorway.
“Death is difficult,” Mallorn said.
Krishani scoffed. “Death.”
Mallorn sighed. “You have so much untapped potential. It should not go to waste.”
Krishani was stunned by the words. He chose Kaliel and renounced his duty. There was no life outside of Avristar, only death. And death would be a constant reminder she died. He could face death if it was his own, but to come to terms with hers was impossible. She was never meant to face the foe alone. She was never supposed to lose her life, and he would take the pain to his grave. He wanted the Kiirar to leave, and before he had a chance to say it out loud, Mallorn was gone.
* * *
8 - Storm Clouds
Krishani stared at Melianna, her melancholy expression, her caramel-colored eyes. He didn’t know how to feel or what to feel. Anguish coursed through him, enough to cripple any fae, feorn or human. His eyes moved to the book in her hands, an anthology on the early days of Avristar. From what he was told, it was full of folk tales about old traditions no longer practiced on the island.
He squeezed his eyes shut and tasted salt on his lips. He couldn’t control what his body wanted to do anymore. He wanted limbo to encompass him, wanted it to hurt until he was numb, until he was dead. He glanced at Melianna, her face buried in the book.
He closed his eyes and tried to pull the blanket of darkness over him, but it was gone. The jarring realization he could no longer descend into reverie hit him. Memories of Kaliel were so crisp and vibrant in limbo, and the searing, burning, clawing torture. Pain he welcomed more than the pain of living. Every muscle throbbed, his heart ached, his blood like poison in his veins. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as heat washed over him. He curiously lifted his sleeve and noted the char marks on the underside of the fabric.
Was the burning more than a dream?
He let his eyelids droop as he recalled the faint memories of Kaliel’s marred face. She had been in his room, but it wasn’t actually her. The memory of the fire rushed to his senses and he looked at Melianna, expecting a look of repulsion on her face. Her features were still mocking pristine, as though she had to force her face not to be contorted in worry.
“Was I … awake before?” he asked.
Melianna’s eyes darted up from her book. “Aye.”
Krishani nodded for her to continue.
Melianna dropped her eyes to the book. “We shouldn’t talk about it.”
“I’m sorry …”
She looked at him again and mustered a compassionate smile. “You don’t need to be sorry.”
Krishani bobbed his head in response and rubbed his hands along his breeches. He felt dizzy and unsure. Limbo didn’t want him. It wouldn’t play nice with his longing, even with the disorientation of fathoming life, he needed something more.
Proof the Flame hadn’t been a figment of his imagination all along.
He clenched his fist and released it. Despite the battle, physical strength flowed under the currents of his emotions. Strength proved his body was impervious to death. He took a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet. He swayed a bit on his heels and Melianna popped up from her stool. The book fell on the ground as she hovered around him, not quite touching him but attempting to brace him.
“I can bring anything you like to the room,” she squealed. She clearly tried to plead with him with her eyes, but he was determined to roughshod her if she didn’t move. “Please,” she said softly.
Krishani shook his head and found his balance. He pushed her arms out of the way and moved to the door. His tight muscles contracted, and he cringed. Melianna would follow, or alert the elders of his wakefulness, both of which he wanted to avoid. He looked at her and tried to muster something close to awkwardness in his expression. “I need the lavatory.”
“Oh.” Melianna blushed and ran her hands down her dress. “Aye … you will have to leave the room for that.” She smiled and bent over to pick up the book.
Krishani didn’t waste time. The lavatory was a lie; he hadn’t eaten or drank anything since the coma, but he had no appetite either. He dragged himself along the corridor and turned right. He was no fool to the castle, and at the ninth hallway he turned right again. He sucked in a shaky breath and continued to the end of the hallway.
Kaliel’s room was an empty shrine. He hovered in the doorway for several long moments. A smile twitched at the corner of his lips as he tasted her lingering scent. A sense of comfort briefly washed over him as he realized while parts of her would never return, some things would always remain. None of her belongings were in the room. Most of them had been moved when she traveled to Nandaro to stay with the Kiirar. But herbs were aromatic, and Kaliel had always smelled like a mix of them. Sometimes sweet, sometimes bitter. He loved both.
He lingered for moments longer, paralyzed by the force of her imprint. Memories stacked upon each other flooded into the back of his mind, creating both dizziness and discomfort. The longer he stayed, the more he chanced another breakdown. He absorbed what pieces of her he could. When the room was no longer soothing he drifted back to the room he had been stashed in after the battle.
He paused at the hallway and peered down its length. He had no desire to talk to Melianna. He couldn’t say anything about Kaliel. Avristar felt like a facade, the dead calm of a brittle truth as fragile as his sanity. He drifted into the servants’ hall. It was empty, full of echoes of the past. The blood had been mopped up, but the stench of war remained. Krishani walked to the archway and paused, pressing his hand against the stone. He closed his eyes and saw a glimmer of the boy running in from the stables, screaming, “They are coming!”
He moved through the courtyard and past the stables. The air was cool, dusk approaching. White clouds drifted overhead as he scanned the field. It was littered with patches of white, green and red. The snow had melted, blades of grass springing up from underneath. Amidst the grass were bloodstains. Krishani felt sick with grief as he warded off the memories stinging his eyes.
Flecks of ash mixed into the haze appearing at the edge of the horizon, the sun giving way to night. Krishani quickened his pace as he stumbled in the direction of the mountain. The single worst memory wrapped itself around his mind. Istar stopped him. It was a past that would haunt him forever. He stared across the field, the tree line too far to make out from his vantage point. The wind fiercely blew across the fields, threatening to bring the clouds above into a maelstrom, another outbreak of snow. He trailed along the ground until he stepped on a small mound and crashed into the earth, his cheek colliding with the soft soil. His hands found the ground as he pushed himself up and looked at what he had tripped on.
A tiny grave.
He had carelessly scattered a pattern of stones on top of the grave. Startled, he picked up the stones and placed them precariously on the mound. Krishani shook his head and tried to focus.
Along the west side of the Elmare Castle was a makeshift graveyard. Rows and rows of little mounds of mud sprouted from the ground, each of them decorated with a pattern of stones. Some had offerings, crafts, herbs, flowers, while others had nothing. The Farewell Ceremony. Krishani vaguely remembered mention of it when he lived in Amersil. He hadn’t been alive long enough to attend one, and his stomach lurched thinking about this one.
Krishani wended through the rows, his heart feeling heavier with each mound he passed. He tripped over his own feet as he tried not to step on the mounds. When he found the edge of the graveyard he almost breathed a sigh of relief, but there was one last grave, in a row by itself. He fell on his knees in front of it.
A violet flower rested on top of the stones.
They made a grave for Kaliel.
The last rays of light tinted the land, the moon waxed towards full, growing more than a crescent. He opened his eyes, but his vision was blurry. The flower looked like water-colors smeared across canvas. Vengeance crept into his heart as he clenched and released dirt.
“I couldn’t listen to the farewell ceremony,” a voice interjected.
Krishani flinched away from the voice and slumped into the mud. The hairy feorn loomed over him. He recognized Pux as Kaliel’s friend from Evennses. He shot Pux an expression, a mix of contempt and bewilderment.
“They bid her farewell?”
Pux nodded and gestured to the others. “And everyone else.”
Krishani pushed himself to his knees and looked in the direction of the mountain. The elders mourned her death, which meant they accepted her death. Sickness threatened to twist his insides into knots. “It hurts.”
Pux hung his head. “Aye.”
Krishani closed his eyes and sunk his fingers into the ground. Pux was considerably easier to deal with than the others. The feorn cared about Kaliel; he was her best friend. “She meant everything to me.”
Pux shook his head. He paced around in a circle and looked at Krishani. “It should have been you,” he blurted.
Krishani looked at him with vacant eyes. Pux sighed and lifted his vest to show the huge scar on his side. Krishani looked dumbfounded, confused. Pux shied away, shame contorting his face. The feorn sat in the grass and buried his face in his hands.
“You should have been the last one to see her before she died,” he choked.
Krishani heard his pulse ringing in his ears as he realized what Pux was saying. He tried not to let the stab of envy hijack his mind, but it was there, gaining ground. He lowered his voice. “Why are you telling me this?”
Pux shot him a wan smile. “I never would have made it out of the battle alive. It was an accident. I transported, she was there, she healed me.” He paused. “She was worried about you. I promised I wouldn’t let you die.”
Krishani stood abruptly, letting the dirt fall from his hands. He looked at the grave, bleary eyed and weary. Vertigo set in; he was weak, malnourished. His lips formed a straight line, an attempt at a smile, a false sense of pride filling him. Kaliel defended everyone, but herself. That was what Krishani was supposed to do, but he failed. Pux sat on his hands, gazing into the horizon. He looked as lost as Krishani felt. Krishani tried to think of something encouraging to say but nothing sounded right.
“Why did she have to die?” Krishani asked, his question not directed at anyone.
Pux remained lost in his own thoughts. After moments of silence he stood. “Have you eaten?”
Krishani shook his head. “No.”
“Bread would be good, at least have that.” Pux moved away from the graveyard.
“Aye.”
Pux rounded the outskirts of the graveyard instead of trailing between the mounds of dirt. He waited until Krishani trudged forward, following him into the stables.
Krishani looked past Pux only to see Istar approaching in his traditional white robe, a scowl on his leathery, wrinkled face. Jaw tight, Krishani clenched his fist, waiting for his mentor to speak.
• • •
“You’re awake,” Istar said. His cold blue eyes locked on Krishani. Istar felt a mix of regret, fear, and anger. He feared Avred; the mountain would usurp his control of the land. Seeing Krishani only brought back a reminder the boy had caused the fray. Istar would be subjected to humiliation and tyranny at the hands of the male spirit of the land. Avristar was so gentle in comparison and yet he feared the moment he would face her, too.
Krishani folded his arms across his chest. “I shouldn’t be.”
Istar sized him up. He wore the chainmail, cloak, tunic and breeches he had since the battle. The cloak was charred. He furrowed his brow. “Your stupidity astounds me.”
Krishani turned vile. “I chose her. Life or death, I chose her.” He spit in his elder’s direction and stormed towards the servants’ hall.
Istar turned. “She was never yours to be with!”
Krishani stopped in his tracks. “Take those words back, old man.” He had a fire in his eyes unlike anything Istar had ever seen before. The boy clenched his fist and locked his gaze.
Istar kept his eyes steady on Krishani. The boy was something he would need to deal with sooner or later, and death or not, he wouldn’t allow Krishani to succumb to bottom feeding. The boy would be punished, and he would leave Avristar. It was simple. Istar crossed his arms. “She chose her fate. You both did.”
Krishani closed his eyes and Istar tensed. He hadn’t seen Krishani angry like this before. It was always apologetic and withdrawn. Even then he caused the land so much damage. Part of him knew he was being too hard on the boy, but another part was afraid of what would happen to Avristar. He couldn’t let it go. He could see in Krishani’s body language how broken he was. His shoulders slumped forward, he was thinner, the cloak hanging off him like rags—he hadn’t even removed the armor.
“You were too cowardly to face the foe. She was alone,” Krishani snapped.
Istar stepped back, offended, the accusation repulsive and rancid with truth. He shot Krishani a reproachful look, but it didn’t help. Krishani wasn’t going to calm down; he wasn’t going to listen anymore. He carefully withdrew towards the fields and shook his head. “You will always be my biggest mistake.”
“I will always be nothing!” Krishani shouted. The boy fell to his knees, exhausted. There was a loud crack of thunder outside the stables and as his shoulders shook, rain poured like a waterfall from the sky.
Istar stopped short, staring at the sheet of rain like a slap in the face. He glanced at Krishani. Pux approached him slowly, a warning eye on Istar.
“Come, I’m famished,” Pux said, pulling Krishani to his feet and moving into the castle.
* * *