Justice (14 page)
Authors: Rhiannon Paille
17 - Horsemen
When night fall came Pux slept soundly against Mallorn’s back. They pulled the horses along the path, but the mountains were deceiving. Their ranges rose and fell over the land in mismatched patterns. Sometimes they thought they were at peaks and other times they found themselves staring at their outlines, black against the setting sun. Krishani was too tired to continue moving. He sighed and slid off the horse’s back, pulling it by the reins off the path and into a patch of trees sheltering the hills. He found a space between the trees and silently tied the horse to a skinny tree. Even in the dark he could see a few things. He searched tirelessly while Mallorn followed. Krishani rounded up a couple of rotting logs and a few larger stones. He brought them to the patch of grass that seemed large enough for camp. It was on a slight incline, but it was all they had. He sat on the log and placed the stones in a circle. He went to find twigs and branches, but he didn’t have to go far; they heavily littered the ground.
“We should make camp in a town,” Mallorn said, dropping his bag and rummaging through it. He pulled flint stone out and handed it to Krishani. The fire rose from the ground a second later and Krishani let out a wan smile. He hadn’t used the flint. It reminded him of the hearth fire in Amersil. Even if the Brotherhood had executed him, there were some things he’d never forget. He put the flint beside him and watched the flames. “And if the villagers are dead?”Mallorn sighed and sat on the other log.
Pux fell off the horse. “Please tell me we have food.” Krishani pointed to the horse’s rear. Pux poked through the sacks, pulling out bread and grimaced. There was nothing better for Elwen to send them with. Everything would spoil too quickly. Pux neared the fire and sat beside Mallorn, hoarding the loaf of bread.
Mallorn crossed his arms and stared at Krishani. The boy averted his gaze, not wanting the elder to comment on how he looked. He realized he was wasted, he hadn’t slept well in days, hadn’t bathed. All he had was pain and the ways he coped with it. Mallorn cleared his throat. “We can stay here tonight.”
Silence hung over them as they ripped apart the first loaf of bread and ate it. Krishani watched the fire and thought of sleep while Pux laid down the moment he had eaten his share. Every few seconds the feorn fidgeted, first startled by a caterpillar, then a rabbit darted through the trees attempting to be unseen. An owl hooted and flew off, its wings loudly flapping against the wind. Pux shivered when the wind rattled the trees. He seemed affected by everything, even the creaking crickets.
Krishani sat like a statue and let his eyes droop. They were in unknown lands with unknown enemies. He needed to stay alert, but he couldn’t. Even Mallorn drifted to sleep, slumped on the rotting log. Krishani’s thoughts were murky, stringing together in incoherent patterns, unable to focus on a single thing. For him, times like this were dangerous. His eyelids shut and he fell into nothingness. There were no dreams behind his eyes, no comforting scent of Kaliel wafting through the air.
Nothing.
He had no idea how long he had been lost in a dreamless sleep, but he knew what woke him. Heavy hooves pounded on the ground. Krishani’s eyes snapped open, a loud neigh piercing the silence. His muscles tightened as he waited in anticipation. The embers glowed orange and he carefully lifted his foot and stamped out what was left. Smoke rose and he froze. Horsemen surrounded them, horses neighing and scraping their hooves along the ground. Mallorn and Pux woke with a start, Pux yelping in surprise.
The shadowy shapes said nothing as they circled, but Pux dove for the horses Elwen lent them. He foolishly went rummaging through the bags, likely for a weapon. Krishani heard the slick sound of a blade trailing along the feorn’s back. Pux whined and fell on his knees. He rolled underneath the horse and out of sight.
Krishani grabbed for the sword at his waist, his eyes locking with Mallorn’s. The elder held his sword. Fear crept up the back of Krishani’s neck as he tried to control his breathing. He couldn’t tell if Pux was dying or not. Mallorn glanced at Pux and back at the boy. Krishani shook his head slightly, saying it was too dangerous to go to him, not until the enemies were gone. He didn’t know how many there were, but as they circled the encampment slowly, he listened. Armor clanked against itself, inhuman grunts came from different horses—Krishani picked out four in total. Four wasn’t a lot, but four against two was severely out numbered. He glanced at Mallorn; his eyes hardened, he was ready for the attack to continue. A
whoosh
rang out beside Krishani’s ears and he flinched as the tree beside him burst into flames. He jumped away and swiped at the air with his sword, but his blade met with nothing. More trees went up in flames. Krishani turned in circles, trying to catch sight of the beasts threatening their lives, invisible against the backdrop of night.
“Show yourselves!” Mallorn bellowed as the trees cackled and hissed.
A low rumble of laughter moved through the trees, their horses drawing away from the blaze. The moment they were gone, Mallorn thrust his sword into the scabbard and went for the horses. Pux cowered underneath them, steadily whimpering from the wound. Mallorn untied both of the horses as Krishani darted through the burning trees and hopped onto his. He gave Mallorn a regretful stare as he pulled towards the main road, still trying to catch a glimpse of the Horsemen. As he pulled the horse onto the road his gut wrenched. He looked to the left only to see the midnight black of a stallion with sharp silver armor disappear around the corner. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he glanced to the right. Four tall shadowy beings in dark cloaks approached him. Krishani recognized them immediately.
The Daed.
His eyes widened at the enemies that had ravaged Avristar. Before he had a chance to flee they spotted him. He froze as they gained speed, inching closer. One of them pulled out the thin blade he had seen on the battlefield. He blinked in the hopes it was a dream, that the enemies weren’t mere paces away from him, but they were still there. He panicked. He fled down the hill towards the burning trees as Mallorn and Pux, atop the other horse, met him.
“We need to find another path!” Krishani shouted as he pulled through the forest and descended into the thicker brush. He fought through the vegetation and gaps in the trees. Krishani hoped Mallorn was behind him.
“Why?” Mallorn shouted.
Krishani shook his head as he fled down the incline, hoping for a path into the mountains. He couldn’t face the Daed. They were far too powerful for him to defeat. They brought Avristar to her knees and forced Kaliel to the top of Avred. They took away everything he ever loved about life and ruined his very existence. Worst of all, they were hunting the Flames.
“We have no time!” he called. The Daed were following him, slinking through the forest, loathing his existence, longing to rip it from him. If there was a worse way to die it was by their hand. The trees twisted into clusters and fell away at intervals, like the land was checkered with healthy and unhealthy soil. Krishani wound the horse around the trees. He heard rushing water. When he broke through, the familiar outline of Gott’s river met him.
“Cross the river!” he shouted.
Mallorn caught up, out of breath. “Are you insane?”
Krishani hopped off the horse and jumped into the water. It circled around his knees and he turned back to Mallorn. “It’s not deep,” he said. His heart pounded wildly in his chest as he pulled the horse across the water and up a steep incline on the other side. He looked upstream at the mountains in the distance. “There has to be a way,” he muttered as he climbed the grassy path.
Krishani watched as Mallorn slung Pux overtop of the horse and crossed the river. Blood leaked onto the feorn’s clothes, staining them crimson from the deep gash in his back. It was worse than it seemed. When they reached the top of the hill, Mallorn stopped and doubled over, trying to catch his breath.
Krishani turned and turned in circles, looking for signs the enemies had followed them, but it was quiet. Nothing but the wind rustled the trees. He sat and pulled his knees to his forehead.
“Help me,” Mallorn snapped as he lifted Pux off the horse. Krishani crossed the distance between them and took Pux by the legs. Mallorn grabbed him under the armpits and dragged him off the horse. “Put him on his side.”
“How bad is it?”
“One of the Horsemen sliced his back open,” Mallorn said in a low tone, like that should explain the severity of the situation.
Krishani watched as he moved the feorn’s clothing out of the way and tried to assess the damage. Mallorn touched the wound with his fingers and winced. Krishani tried to see what he was looking at. Dirt and leaves mixed into the sticky red gash. Mallorn sighed. Krishani recoiled, his eyes wide.
The elder went to the horses, searching through the packs. “I need you to make fire, and get water.”
Krishani blinked and then launched into action. There were fewer rocks to contain the fire and so it was smaller, but it created enough light so Mallorn could better inspect the wound. Krishani steeled himself as he went down to the river, afraid he would catch sight of the Daed, or the Horsemen. As he neared the river he listened for sounds of them, but the land was quiet. The water softly ran over the silvery rocks creating a deceiving calm. He dunked the decanter into the river and let it fill before going back, his legs shaking, his body weakened by the attack.
Mallorn was still tending to the wound when Krishani returned. “Are we out of danger?”
Krishani nodded. “Aye.”
“He’s hurt pretty bad,” Mallorn said.
“I saw it happen.” He sat on the grass and pushed his back into it, needing a moment to gather himself. He pictured the glint of silver that had rounded the corner and tried to put an image in his mind of the Horsemen. They didn’t belong to the Daed; something else had brought them. He pushed himself onto his elbows and glanced at Mallorn. He went to say something, but he couldn’t get it out quickly enough.
“Their blades are coated with poison. He’s lucky to be alive.” Mallorn sniffed the wound and scrunched his nose up in disgust.
“He’s also lucky to be sleeping while you do that.” Krishani closed his eyes and tried to forget the fact there were more enemies on Terra than he ever imagined. He tried to forget they were stronger than him and, worse yet, the Horsemen were probably beasts summoned by another member of the Valtanyana. He sighed loudly and threw an arm over his eyes. “Perhaps you should take him back to Elwen.”
“And leave you alone?” Mallorn snapped.
Krishani wobbled his head back and forth. He groaned. “The Ferryman never had comrades.”
“Well, you need a guardian,” Mallorn said. “After that business with the Vulture …” The old man scowled.
Krishani grumbled to himself and sat up. “I saw them, the cloaked beings that ravaged Avristar. They’re here.”
Mallorn went white. He averted his gaze and continued wiping up the blood, the rag soaked through. Krishani watched him. The elder moved to the horses, returning with a clean rag and ointment. He watched as Mallorn meticulously cleaned the gash.
Krishani didn’t want to talk about the Daed. They were a rumor before they struck Avristar. He hadn’t seen them in dreams before. Lore said they were the remaining supporters of the Valtanyana, but it also said they weren’t very powerful. If they had awakened Crestaos, there was no telling how much their power had grown. He was right to flee, but what if they found him again?
“The Daed,” Mallorn said. “There’s a wrap in the other bag there.” He pointed at it while rubbing some of the ointment onto Pux’s back.
Krishani got up and grabbed the wrap out of the bag and handed it to him. He wasn’t fond of telling the elder what he had seen, but if it prevented him from asking questions about what he’d been trying to do with the Vulture, then it was for the best. He couldn’t tell Mallorn if there was a way to ensure his non existence he would take it.
“You need sleep,” Mallorn said as Krishani sat beside Pux. The feorn’s breathing was shallow, but he seemed comfortable. “I will stand guard.”
Krishani only nodded before rolling onto his back and letting another dreamless sleep take him.
* * *
18 - The Cabin by the Lake
Krishani had slept less than an hour when he was startled awake by a cold wind rippling through the trees. He sat and glanced at Mallorn, expecting him to be awake. The elder slumped beside the feorn with his head on his arms and snored. Krishani rubbed his eyes. Stars in different shapes and patterns lit up the sky. It paled in comparison to the brilliance of Avristar’s skies. He sighed and looked at Pux. The feorn was lost in a sleep that resembled the dead. Traveling would be dangerous for both of them. He was uncertain why they had accompanied him thus far; it wasn’t like Mallorn agreed with his decision to turn away from his duty as the Ferryman. The elder had been mild, but gruff. Krishani worried the longer he stayed the worse his chances were of escaping his birthright. Mallorn would expect him to perform the task when faced with it. What would the old man think when he refused?
Krishani tiptoed towards the horses resting against the trees. He patted one on the neck and turned to Pux. He wanted to say goodbye, even if the animal wouldn’t hear it. He crossed the distance between them and knelt over him. In the fading light the feorn looked small and scrawny, his face streaked with lines of worry, his arms curled against his chest. He might have been a Child of Avristar, but he wasn’t a warrior or even a nomad. Of the two of them he was the one meant to stay behind. It was a shame his natural talents didn’t work on Terra. It was like everything mystical about him had been drained away by the languid state of the land.
“She wouldn’t want you to come with me,” Krishani said. “She wouldn’t want me here either, but she wouldn’t forgive me if …” He paused and thought about his words even if they were cutting. “All I can promise you is death. And you weren’t meant for that.” He stood and clenched his fist, unable to hide the pain in his expression. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, but he forced them away with false strength. He mounted his horse. Without half of their provisions, Mallorn and Pux would have no choice but to return to Castle Tavesin. Krishani felt both relieved and afraid they wouldn’t follow him.
No one would know the fate of the Ferryman.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and fled through the thin sunken vein of a path through the trees and descended into a field of boulders. The horse tripped over itself more than it usually did. Krishani shifted his weight as the horse tarried down the path, mindful of potential cliffs. He grunted in the hopes the animal would find some intelligence, but it continued to amble like it was injured.
Daylight was hours away and Krishani yawned. He wanted to sleep, but he knew he needed to be a safe distance away from Mallorn and Pux. Heaviness rested in his chest; the path curled towards the mountains. He occasionally glanced to the left, to the path across the river where the Daed had been seen. He shivered each time he looked at the upper path. It was a straight, wide path leading through the mountains with ease. His path was treacherous and rocky, winding footfalls and surprises, but anything seemed better than the path carrying the vile creatures that tried to take his life once already.
He let the horse press on at an incompetent speed. When he opened his eyes his heart raced. They found a shallow lake in a cove against the mountains. This wasn’t the field Kaliel had mentioned. Krishani grimaced. There was a cabin tucked between the sheets of rock that seemed too slippery and smooth to climb. The horse reached flat ground and lurched forward, but he pulled the reins tight, holding it back. The horse whinnied in protest. He allowed it to trot across the muddy grasses towards the shore. The horse dipped its head into the water. He eyed the cabin with a spurious frown.
Slipping off the horse, he led it around to the other side of the lake where it continued to lap up water like it had been parched for days. Krishani continued to stare at the oddly-shaped A-frame cabin. It was very small: three stairs led to the door, windows on either side of the stairs. It was dark inside. Krishani walked towards the cabin and looked into the window. He was hoping to find out if the cabin was empty. At first there was nothing, but then a faint glow of something orange flickered from inside. His heart did a double take.
The Flame.
He took the steps and pushed the door open. It creaked as he slid one foot across the wooden planks and searched for the orange light. There was little of anything in the cabin: a small nightstand, a bed, a rocking chair to the left. A fireplace sat in the corner on the right, but there wasn’t a fire. What got his attention was the lantern on the nightstand. Within it a small orange light sparked every few seconds. It looked like it was breathing, in and out, dimmer then brighter, in even successions. Krishani gaped at it and forgot to protect himself. He took a loud step, putting his hand on the lantern.
Everything happened too fast. Krishani felt an arm around his neck, pulling him away from the lantern. It tightened around his throat and he gasped for air as he pushed the man against the wall. They slammed against the rocking chair, knocking it aside as they scuffled. Krishani pulled at the man’s arm and something pierced his torso, cutting into flesh under his ribs. He let out a howl and went limp. The man thrust him away and he fell on his hands and knees. He scrambled to his feet and faced the man.
“Who are you and what do you want?” the man demanded.
Krishani frowned; it was no language he had heard before. He glanced to his right, the orange light bright and alert. He went to grab it, but the man was fast. His arm crashed down on Krishani’s, forcing him to pull back. He wasn’t sure about the wound on his side; it hurt, but he didn’t know how bad it was. Before he could assess the damage the man shoved him against the other wall and tried to stab him again. Krishani kicked the man’s shins and pushed, forcing the man to scramble backwards. Krishani grimaced. He expected the cabin to be empty and had forgotten all about Kaliel telling him the Flame was a prisoner. The man crouched, his black hair and dark eyes glistening in the light of the Flame. His skin was a deep brown. The man licked his lips like a carnivore sizing up its prey and thrust himself at Krishani again. Krishani grabbed his sword and went to pull it out, but the man locked his arm across his chest and pinned him against the wall.
“You won’t steal it that easily,” the man said, snarling. Krishani pulled his left arm out from behind his back and punched the man square in the jaw. It made his hand sting, but the man staggered back, rubbing his cheek. Krishani pulled his sword out and grabbed the lantern. The man was still disoriented. Krishani almost descended the stairs. As he reached the door the man grabbed his legs. Krishani crashed to the floor, his sword and the lantern clambering down the steps. Feet crunched his spine as the man stepped over him to retrieve the lost items. As the man’s foot landed on the place between Krishani’s shoulders, the boy twisted around and grabbed his leg. The man slammed into the stairs and Krishani heard a loud crack. He scrambled to his feet and carefully stepped around the man. He was still, his body half on the stairs and half on the sandy mud lining the lake.
Krishani picked up the sword and lantern. He went to check for a sign the man was still alive. A jagged splinter jutted out of the man’s neck. Krishani recoiled. He bent over him, listening to his shallow breaths. Panicking, he threw his sword into the scabbard and moved towards the horse. It had its head buried in the water. Krishani quickly tucked the lantern into the folds of the knapsacks and turned to the man.
A dark pool of blood seeped under his cheek. Krishani gulped as he approached, his expression mangled with remorse. He grabbed the man by the shoulders and pulled him off of the wooden spike. It made a thick, slurping sound as the spike dragged through the tender flesh. The man gasped and shook as Krishani dragged him onto the beach. The man glanced into his eyes and seemed to know it was the end.
Krishani cursed as his stomach heaved in fits. The familiar nausea set in as he took the man’s hand and waited. He tried to pretend he wasn’t there. The horse neighed and Krishani realized he forgot to tie it up. He couldn’t lose the Flame if things got nasty and the horse decided to run off. He opened his eyes enough to see the horse’s hooves. He scrambled over to it and tried to avoid the blackness growing in the sky. Vultures approached from over the tops of the mountains, from the forests, from the sky. He pulled the reins taut, but the horse froze. Krishani watched in horror as the Vultures swept around the man in successions, threatening to take him the moment his soul left the body. Krishani dropped his hand to his side where he felt sticky blood oozing from the stab wound.
It is your time now.
In his mind’s eye he saw the dark brown eyes of Davlin Tavesin staring at him. He wanted to scream at the Vultures, but it wouldn’t help. Instead, he growled at the horse and forced it to move towards the cabin. He hastily tied the reins to the porch rail and turned.
The Vultures swarmed, waiting for the man to die. Krishani stifled the frostbite that wound up his arms and around his neck as he approached the man. He passed through the hoard of Vultures, prickly cold creeping up his spine. It made the back of his neck feel like it was being stabbed by thousands of tiny needles. He knelt over the man, wincing at the pain. His shoulder throbbed, the disease twisting around his armpit and trailing down his torso. He gulped. The Vultures begged him with silent whispers to give in, let them devour the soul, let them devour him. He fought back the grief washing over him. He was the reason the man was dying, he was guilty. Davlin never saved anyone, but he never killed anyone either. He wouldn’t feel remorse if he became a Vulture. Mallorn wasn’t here to stop him. He could do it. He pressed his tongue to his palette to stifle a cry as the biting cold hit his thighs and sent shockwaves of ice through him. If he let them win, the Valtanyana would win. What about the Flames? What would the Lands Across the Stars become if the Valtanyana had all of them? If they had Kaliel? Krishani sucked in a breath even though he was ready to pass out. He leaned closer to the man.
“Amenally nawva callen armalta,” he whispered into the man’s ear. The body jerked, his chest rising, his mouth open as he let out an audible cry. It was somewhere between a gasp and a whine. Krishani watched tremors rock the body, furiously forcing the soul to escape. It was over. Wispy smoke rose into the sky as frostbite licked at his insides, turning them to solid briquettes. The force of the Vultures knocked Krishani away. He fell back in the sand, lacerations whipping his stomach.
The boy sprawled out on the beach, incapacitated, watching white smoke rise into the air. The Vultures went after it, but there was an invisible barrier, one they couldn’t penetrate. Krishani traced the patterns of the smoke as it pressed against the night sky. He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them, the soul was gone, the Vultures fading away.
He heard his rapid, panicked breaths as he lay on the beach shaking. The effects of the frostbite wore off, his insides melting into fire as they thawed. He cringed as the pain encompassed him, tears escaping the corners of his eyes. He never meant to kill the man. His eyelids slipped shut as the last of his energy fell, leaving him in nothing but darkness.
• • •
The sun was too bright. It made Krishani’s eyes burn, red and yellow splotches roaming beneath the thin lids. He moaned, and fought for consciousness. His limbs felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. When he tried to lift himself off the sand it felt like he was lifting a horse. He managed to pull himself up and everything spun. He fell back into the muddy sand and squeezed his eyes shut. So that was what the Vultures did when someone was dying. They swarmed like locusts, blotting out the sky, covering their prey in darkness. He stomach flip-flopped as fear hit him. He never wanted any of this ugly life, fighting against things he knew nothing about. More than ever he understood Kuruny’s words and the reasons why she was adamant he would die in the Lands of Men. The danger was incessant, the realm dead on the inside because of the treachery of its inhabitants. Terra would never be a peaceful realm; it would always be plagued by thieves and killers. The Vultures would exist until the end of time. Ten thousand years would pass and it wouldn’t matter. Terra would always need a Ferryman.
The ache in his heart was too thick to ignore. He wanted to go home to Avristar and find Kaliel’s shimmering white hair under the soft sun. He wanted to run his fingers through it, pull her closer to him, protect her from all the darkness plaguing the lands. He wanted her death to be a dream and reality to be nothing but a nightmare. He drifted back to sleep, explosions ringing in his ears, and he snapped awake. He fought against his stiff limbs. His legs were entwined with the man he had killed and he gasped. His stomach heaved and he vomited on the sand. He shakily brought himself to his feet and stumbled towards the horse. He hadn’t forgotten about the lantern.
As he braced himself on the side of the horse he lifted the flap of the knapsack. The orb rested inside the lantern. It was dim. Krishani frowned and his logic failed him. Kaliel had been adamant Tiki was in a lantern. She knew the Flame didn’t have a body. Krishani couldn’t understand what that meant, but staring into the orb he was reminded of Kaliel’s Avristar Birthstone. Tiki was like that, conscious, but non-physical.
He stared at it for what seemed like forever. It stirred, its glow moving from dim to faint and he jumped.
“Who are you?”
Krishani thought he heard the orb whispering, but he shook his head and blotted out the words. Her voice was like chimes shimmering on the wind, words slurred together in commotion.
“Who are you?”
Chimes attacked Krishani’s ears and he staggered from the horse, his head sick with vertigo. He glanced at the lake, a shimmering silver sheet in the bright afternoon sun. After moments of disorientation he straightened and looked at the little thing. He picked up the lantern and gazed at the Flame.
“I’m … Krishani …” he said, caution lacing his tone. He thought of the rest of that sentence—of Amersil—but that wasn’t true anymore. He was a Tavesin, but it sounded all wrong. For now he was just Krishani, from nowhere, belonging to no one.