Authors: Rhiannon Paille
Villains (21 page)
Morgana neared him and Kaliel couldn’t wash the swamp-water smell out of her mouth. Morgana leaned in. “Bring me the Amethyst Flame.”
And before Tor could smack her she darted away, flitting gleefully through the mud, cackling laughter rising between snarling beasts. “You expect your small minded tricks to work on me, Morgana?”
The little girl stopped in her tracks and whirled. “My tricks have already worked. Go on Tor, try to escape, try to transport.”
Kaliel imagined the smirk on the swamp-water girl’s face as Tor clenched and unclenched his fist. She hoped he wouldn’t ask for her help. It was shocking how blatant Morgana was, as though Tor were one of her pawns, as though she owned him the way she owned the Vultures. Kaliel felt the crushing rock settle on her as she tried her hardest to blink away her consciousness. She wanted the comforting arms of death. She wanted to cease to exist so she couldn’t hurt anyone anymore either by her will or by someone else’s.
“What treachery is this?” Tor demanded, and Kaliel realized the tiny girl had beaten him. It wasn’t hard to believe, Morgana had beaten Krishani, she had beaten Kaliel. She seemed so innocent and yet so dangerous.
Morgana lingered until she finally spoke many moments later. “A trap, a trap, you’ve fallen prey to the spider and she’s got you in her web. Find the thing the spider needs and you’ll be free. Find it not and forever will you walk the earth—a human until the apocalypse.”
Tor growled and Kaliel never thought she’d seen him so angry. “Do you think you’ve taken anything that truly matters to me?”
Morgana scoffed. “I’ve taken everything else.”
Tor turned and Kaliel felt them walking but there was something at the foot of her vision. Morgana wasn’t with the Horsemen, she couldn’t be with the Horsemen or if she were it weren’t the same ones because Krishani killed them.
“Do you truly think you’ll find them both?” Morgana called after him.
Tor stopped and Kaliel felt the air change. It smelled like rain, soot and flesh. “I’ll find your wayward Horsemen, but the Flame is gone.”
Kaliel’s senses perked up, she wasn’t concerned anymore with Morgana and Tor, only with the sky, the churning, angry, smelly sky that—
screech
—there that was it, the Vultures. She wanted to crane her neck to see them, reach out with hands she no longer possessed to touch them. Somewhere in that hoard of inky black wisps—was Krishani.
Heart aching with such dire longing she could barely breathe she tried to taste the sky, but all she felt were the cold walls of her prison and defeat curling around her essence until she was tamped down, succinct and quiet. Part of her mind begged to play out the rest. Krishani had to be in the swarm—so close and so far and so untouchable.
And she was there, so quiet, so still, so trapped.
Because she lost.
***
Chapter 3
Krishani.
She wanted to call out to him, but as quickly as the Vultures had descended upon them, Morgana snatched them away like little the peons they were. She only knew what Elwen had told her about the Vultures—soul eaters, and it crushed her to believe Krishani was lost to them. What she had done was so permanent. She couldn’t believe Krishani was truly in there somewhere—that he remembered anything about the boy he used to be or the girl he used to love.
Tor ran.
He ran for such a long time Kaliel wasn’t sure where they were anymore, mountains and valleys, cresting hills and finding their way through rocks. They fought through a moist and damp forest, Kaliel recognized sea salt and pollen on the air. She wanted Tor to slow down, to try to talk to her but he kept her locked in that forsaken golden prison, hidden securely in his pant pocket for an infinite amount of time. She felt heavy and starved, bleak and corroded. Tor treated her more like a thing than a girl. The way he swept her into the pocket watch with no second thought, no apology. The brutal way he tried to fix her and the way he failed.
Silence hung around them when Tor made camp and refused to light so much as a fire. He stalked around trees until he settled against one and drifted. She didn’t understand what Morgana had done to him. He seemed weaker, and it was apparent she had taken something from him but he was as defiant as ever. She wondered if Morgana could truly end him, if there was some fundamental code that made it imperative he lived. She wanted sleep too but without a body there was no need and her mind clicked on, reliving the thousands of small moments she experienced with a boy she was never meant to have.
Touch—caress—hip to hip—chest to chest—lips to lips—hands roaming her body—hands gripping her—entangled together, that was what she missed most about life. The warm tingles that spread through her at the mere thought of her Ferryman—that was worth all the danger in possessing a body. Without the chance to be with Krishani again a body seemed unimportant—excruciating even if she was forced to remember the past. Tor had been kind to her once and she couldn’t conjure the memories of the First Era very well but she knew she fought for him. She made the stars fall and put the Valtanyana down. In return he tried to give her a life of bliss, but what had happened on Avristar was unexpectedly cruel. There were dark parts of her and in those dire moments she couldn’t see anything but her destructive nature.
And she didn’t know anymore if she and Krishani were right or wrong or meant to be or prophesied to bring the apocalypse. All she knew was that in a violent attempt to save him from what he was, her actions put oceans and lands and stars between them. The guilt of that atrocity never waned, but pulsed through her like its own experimental serum.
Tor woke sometime later though the darkness surrounding Kaliel never changed. He walked further and further through open fields with loud cracking winds and quiet dense forests with chattering small game. Kaliel was jarred out of her thoughts by the scraping sound of stone against stone, and the sudden change in temperature from blistering heat to frost-like cold in a matter of seconds. Tor traveled down long dank corridors, sloping further south and underground. Kaliel grew nervous as determination set into Tor’s gait and he huffed like he was out of breath until he stopped and drew her out of the pocket watch and set her upon a stone slab. He flicked it open and spires of bluish tinged orange light came into view. It was hard to explain the ringlets on the ceiling, reflection of some pond or something in the center of the room, illuminated by some unknown light source. Kaliel begged Tor to speak with her, but he turned his back and his words were positioned at someone else who had entered the room.
“What I have here is primitive but pure. You will retrieve it from the catacombs?”
“Aye…” came the sly, warbled response. Kaliel realized Tor probably wasn’t speaking to another human but she didn’t have time to ponder who or what kept hold of the temple. He pulled her off the table and coaxed her into the pond and at first it seemed daunting, so much water she would drown, but Tor wasn’t known for taking no as an answer and as his intentions came down on her she found herself unraveling into the pool, stretching to the very edges of the small basin. It must have only been an arm’s length wide by a shee’s height deep but her essence filled it.
Time passed in intervals as Kaliel waited, expecting something—some kind of torture but there was nothing but the soothing water lapping back and forth, fireflies buzzing across the ceiling above her. Someone’s face appeared in watery lines over top of the basin, dressed in a crisp white cloak and Kaliel thought she was seeing things, but their face was that of a large cat, perky ears and long whiskers and dilated emerald eyes. The pond was so relaxing she almost forgot about the injections and the orb and the factory Tor had taken her to in some other reality.
“Is she prepared?” Tor’s voice cut through the empty space and the cat person nodded, drawing away from the basin. Kaliel heard Tor’s footsteps as he approached the small pool—vial in hand, tipping its blackened contents into the water. This one felt like a thousand teeth clamping down on her, tearing into her cells and ripping them apart, sewing them together as something new. The blackness chewed through amethyst flavored light and she lost consciousness.
It was blissful in the lull—some place between life and death, but she already knew Flames couldn’t die—anything from the First Era had that timeless quality about it. She could be absorbed, contained, and imprisoned but she couldn’t be killed.
This—whatever this was burned worse than all the others combined and when she came to she found herself lost in a battle between herself and the black spots dotting her vision. It took everything in her not to let out a sonic boom and make the temple collapse on them. Instead she forced her essence to curl around the black spots, despite the way it made her feel like lightning running through her, and forced amethyst tinge light into the nucleus of the malignant cell. One by one she turned them, feeling more and more exhausted with each cell. It wasn’t until she had turned the last one she heard the gasp from the corner of the room, followed by the faint whispers of the person with the cat-like face.
“No one’s ever done that before.”
Tor stalked out of the room, taking the servant with him, and Kaliel thought he was upset. She crackled, and the liquid in the basin sizzled before bursting into flame. Anger flashed through her, and it was easier to let it burn until the water evaporated and she was nothing but Flame inside the basin. Tor gave her no indication of what he wanted from her. He couldn’t tell her everything would be okay because it wasn’t. He was human, gray scales replaced by thick tanned muscle, worn face and sky-blue eyes. He couldn’t help her and he couldn’t fix her and he couldn’t change her past and he couldn’t bring Krishani back.
Tor wasn’t strong enough to fight the Valtanyana. That was the most she remembered from the First Era. He created the Flames to stand by his side against them because he wasn’t strong enough. And Klavotesi had seen Kaliel do something that existed at the edges of her vision, in blurry dreams and unfinished parchment and written in symbols so old she couldn’t translate them.
Krishani had been there.
He said it was over.
For her it would never be over, he would always be the only boy she loved, the only one she trusted with her heart, her Flame, her everything. She was safe in his arms and without those arms she was brittle, a lethal weapon with no will to fight.
Stone scratched against stone and footsteps echoed off walls and there was a grunt in her direction like Tor was clearing his throat. She realized the flames hadn’t extinguished themselves and if she wanted to she could light up like a star. But even the anger was in vain and she couldn’t hold onto it and like sticking hot metal in water she smoked, a hiss erupting from her. She went to say something like “stay back” or “don’t touch me,” but Tor wouldn’t communicate with her and all her pleading, crying and shouting went unacknowledged. Tor loomed over the basin, the pocket watch in hand, his eyes showing melancholy and regret. She didn’t know what he had to feel remorse for—he was a monster like the rest of them, emotionless, pragmatic, and bloodthirsty. He was just as power hungry as the others and had her in the palm of his hand. If he wanted to defeat them he could use her like the weapon he made her to be and erase them from the Lands Across the Stars forever.
“I failed you,” Tor spoke.
No, he wasn’t going to apologize. This wasn’t his fault, it was hers. She should have attacked Morgana, she shouldn’t have hesitated. The blast would have killed them both but at least she’d be gone. Kaliel didn’t know how it worked, when she let go at the height of the blizzard it was like a subtle boom spread through the land, the rings of ripples spreading to the very edges of Terra, and maybe they bounded off the atmosphere, traveling through the spaces between the Lands and hitting them with just as much force as she hit Terra with. It seemed plausible that such unnatural destruction could spread so far and wide, and she wished that power didn’t live inside of her.
“I’m not trying to hurt you,” Tor continued.
His words were somehow worse than all the lethal injections and the liquid poison he infected her with. All Kaliel wanted to do was scream at him for making her burn until she could barely hold it in. Tor didn’t seem to understand that the more he tampered with her the more he risked setting her off and half the battle wasn’t in neutralizing the poison but in holding off the urge to make the Lands Across the Stars crumble at her hands.
Tor was quiet for a long time and she screamed at the top of her lungs, batting at him like a stubborn child, banging her fists on the floor like she couldn’t take it anymore. Of course in the room she was only burning, spikes of amethyst flames reaching for the ceiling. If she had a body her outburst would have been more fervent, rough and desperate but she didn’t have hands or feet or eyes and Tor couldn’t give her those things.
Not unless he wanted to cause another apocalypse.
“I wanted you to be normal, Aria,” Tor whispered.
Normal?
She was speechless and scarred and the fire snapped out. She felt the pull and she folded herself into the pocket watch, thinking of herself as a small child curling into a ball and going to sleep. The tick, tick, ticking lulled her into a state of quiet, while the lid closed over her, covering her in darkness.
***
Chapter 4
Tor left the temple and for days it was the parched barren wastelands surrounding them. Kaliel was always cold in some way, while Tor always smelled like sweat, metal and leather. He made his way across the tundra, trudging through dunes and sleeping in ditches until there was commotion around them. Kaliel had never been in places like this, and though she couldn’t see, she heard the scraggled language of people arguing—bartering. It didn’t matter where Tor went, people herded together, tending to squawking chickens and chopping heads off fish and selling goods that clanged together and reminded Kaliel of the kitchen Hernadette managed on Avristar. She was so distracted by those sounds that when Tor began speaking the language in perfect form she didn’t catch his meaning. There was a brief exchange between them, not for what Kaliel thought would be usual for humans—gold or silver, but a throttled sound erupting from the man followed by what seemed like an agreement.
Tor walked for a long time and Kaliel was acutely aware of the other person with them but that small person was so quiet it was hard to determine who they were. Soon they reached the edge of a river, water rushing downstream in droves. The person with them—a girl let out a pip as Tor spoke to her in her language, harsh instructions, nothing sentimental about him. Kaliel heard the girl let out a surprised cry but she didn’t buck against Tor’s authority.
Seconds later Kaliel felt Tor’s fingers clamp around the small pocket watch as he drew her out. He opened the face and the almond shape of a black eye came into view. This one was full of fear and tension. Tor said something else to the girl and she shifted in the grass, seeming to steel herself for whatever it was Kaliel was going to do.
Kaliel did nothing but stare back at the girl.
Tor nudged the pocket watch. “Go on, Aria,” he said solemnly.
And Kaliel understood what he was trying to do and emotion washed over her in violent tidal waves, anxiety and nausea sending her into such a frenzy that she lit the aura of the pocket watch in bright amethyst spikes. The girl let out a strangled cry but it seemed what Kaliel had missed was that Tor had tied her to a tree. Arms drawn above her head, feet barely brushing the sand at her feet.
Kaliel didn’t want this.
All she could think about was Aulises and the pulse of a battle she didn’t understand beating around her. She didn’t mean to possess Aulises and even if she had she didn’t mean for the girl to die and for Kaliel to take her body. She wanted to tell Tor she couldn’t do this, it was an atrocity. She couldn’t live while Krishani feasted on souls, forced to exist as a Vulture, the one thing he was afraid of most. Tor pulled the watch back, and Kaliel caught a glimpse of the girl’s smooth brown skin, coarse black hair braided into a long ponytail that hung over her shoulder and trailed to her waist. She was wearing an off-white tunic and loose fitted pants. Her face was a mask of terror as Tor stepped in front of her and held Kaliel up to her eye.
“It won’t hurt,” he said like he was trying to reassure her but Kaliel didn’t know who he was talking to—the girl or the Flame. And there was no warding off the pain, even if she possessed the body all she’d want to do is tie the rope tight around her neck and drop. Not that it would make death find her but the idea of physical torture was appealing.
Tor stood his ground and did that thing Kaliel didn’t understand. It was a silent form of coaxing and she found herself flowing into the girl’s eye, traveling through the iris and the blood stream until she found the girl’s throat and traveled down and down. The girl let out a pleasant sigh and Kaliel cringed, hoping she could keep this girl alive. Aulises had died and just like that time, Kaliel found herself traveling down a dark tunnel towards a bright spark of white light.
The journey took awhile as she inched her way down but in reality it may have only been a few seconds. She neared the white light, realizing it wasn’t sunshine or the great expanse of land surrounding her. She didn’t know what it was, but when she touched it, there was a piercing ache that mushroomed across her form, followed by an intense wracking; the body jolting like Kaliel had set the girl on fire. Kaliel fought to free herself from the body but the girl’s thrashing and her own juddering didn’t help and soon Kaliel felt herself expand, covering the girl in an amethyst bubble until she regarded Tor and the pocket watch in his outstretched hand. Her Flame gravitated for it, almost running because she knew what had happened to the girl.
It was the thing she feared the most.
The girl was dead.
Tor made a comment about the girl being unworthy as he cut her down from the tree and laid her in the sand. He didn’t return to the village and he didn’t say anything to Kaliel as he crossed another long trench of land and slept in another ditch. He mumbled something about trying again but Kaliel didn’t want to try again. She wanted to evade the Valtanyana and stay dormant and find unconsciousness. She wanted to find a place away from all the haunting memories and insane experiments. She hated Tor with everything she had left. She owed him, more than she wanted to admit.
It was raining when Tor came upon the tiny hamlet in some overrun village. Kaliel slumped into the pocket watch, hoping Tor was here for something normal like food or water or comraderie. His footfalls fell between tall trees and people mumbled as they shuffled past. Kaliel heard him ascend the steps, loud noises protruding from inside. Voices died away as Tor filled the doorway and Kaliel imagined all eyes on him.
“Come, where do you hail from, traveler?” someone from the farthest side of the room called. They clapped; a braying sound that made Kaliel lightheaded.
Kaliel felt Tor arch his back and present his chest. She felt his hands on his hips and heard the steady pump of his heart behind the
tick, tick, tick
of a constant rhythm. “I come with a challenge for your people.”
Kaliel wanted to curl up inside herself and become invisible. The people in the hall seemed in a frenzy at the words and soon slurs and languages she didn’t understand rose into the air, all manners of questions, warnings and acceptances. Tor didn’t say anything else Kaliel understood but the man who had spoken before did and it made her blanch.
“Will you tell us about this challenge?”
Kaliel felt Tor’s hand around her, but he hesitated for a second before pulling her out of his pocket. “It is but a simple pocket watch. I only offer you the challenge of holding it,” Tor explained. Kaliel meant to let out a breath but she already knew what Tor would force her to do the moment one held her in their palm. She shuddered, feeling flustered as she tried to push at the walls containing her.
“And who is this challenge open to?”
“All who will come,” Tor said though his voice had lost some of the bravado it had earlier. He turned on his heel. “I will wait at the barn on the far side of the village, should you find yourself worthy you will meet me there.”
He left and shoved Kaliel into his pocket once again. Kaliel brimmed with heat and hatred and fear so heavy it tasted like molten rock. Tor stalked across the village, ignoring those who chattered beside other domiciles. Soon they were out of the rain and inside a wooden shack, nothing but the clanging of metal tools to alert her of her surroundings. Tor didn’t say anything and so she waited until the first showed up alone, and then three more, and six more and nine more. Kaliel counted the number in her head, nineteen in total. There had to be at least a few hundred in the village but only nineteen had agreed to Tor’s asinine challenge.
“Welcome,” Tor said when the din had lulled and the people were reduced to shuffling back and forth, faint whispers between them. Tor crossed the floor and latched the doors to the barn. “I’m afraid this is a precaution,” he said. A few people grunted as though they were expecting to leave, but Tor wasn’t such a man as to let them. He stepped between them, and Kaliel felt their beating pulses forming a circle around Tor. He drew her out of his pocket and placed her flat on his hand, opening the face. “I promise it is nothing but a simple pocket watch.”
“I will go first,” someone tall and brutish said from the back wall. Tor turned, holding out the watch to him. Kaliel saw a few things in the barn, the darkened straw ceiling, cracks between the wood allowing in the faintest of grayish light. She caught sight of the chubby hand that went to hold her. His hands smelled like manure, river water and animal fur. Kaliel didn’t want to play but Tor pushed her with his thoughts and before she could resist she found her essence crawling up the large man’s arm and settling through his eye.
It was quick.
The cracking pain came in a whirlwind as Kaliel dropped through the tunnel and hit the white spark dead on. There was a cry, followed by the sound of a tree falling in the forest, a dead thud as the man hit the ground. She returned to the pocket watch, and felt Tor peel her out of the dead man’s hand.
“I’m sorry, my friend, for you were not worthy,” Tor spoke gently, and Kaliel wanted to throw up. The others inched away but one found their way to the front.
“Give me the watch,” he commanded.
This one was smaller than the last but the result was the same, bright white spark, deafening crack and a thud. Kaliel found herself stuffed into the pocket watch and then into body after body, after body. Thirteen fell to their deaths and Kaliel felt dizzy, sick with grief and starved for understanding. She wouldn’t inhabit someone else’s body only to take them the way Vultures took souls and made them cease to exist.
The next was a woman who came with a shy voice and soft hands that smelled of wool and rosemary. She fit the pocket watch into her hand and like all the other times Kaliel traveled down the tunnel and felt the woman brace herself, sitting on the floor, then lying down and resting her head on the body of a dead man. Kaliel found the spark at the core of her body but she resisted touching it. She could spread herself through the woman’s extremities. She filled the woman with her Flame and she didn’t die—not right away anyway.
It took a long time, finding balance, but darkness eclipsed her vision and Kaliel heard breathing—her breathing. She controlled the slow breaths flushing in and out of her lungs. She tested it once, twice, and peeled her eyes open. Tor stood above her, along with the other five villagers cowering next to each other. Tor had a look on his face like a cross between horror and curiosity, something Kaliel couldn’t comprehend. It seemed as though no matter how ruthless he was, he wanted victory.
Kaliel wouldn’t give him that.
She flashed to her feet and grabbed something off the wall; turning it over in her hands she realized it was a small garden shovel. She panted, feeling sweat pouring off her forehead and soaking her tunic through. “Stop this,” she rasped, forcing her dull lifeless eyes on Tor.
He seemed confused. “Aria?”
He took a step forward but she exploded, tears streaming down her face, the garden shovel clattering to the floor, hands gripping his tunic, balling it up in her fists as she flailed against him. “Stop it, stop it, stop it!”
His hands clamped on her upper arms too hard and she let out a high-pitched cry, not expecting the trills of pain in her borrowed limbs. He tried to search her face but she refused to let him look at her, he had this way about him, a mesmerizing glare she couldn’t face. “Aria, what’s wrong?”
“It hurts—I hurt, let me die—kill me,” she seethed. She tried to stand but her legs were jelly under her and she slumped nearly hitting the floor, Tor holding her up.
“Aria? Aria! Stay with me…I won’t let you do this.” He sounded alarmed and then angry and Kaliel couldn’t stand or stay awake and static lanced across her vision. She lashed out, catching Tor across the face with her bare hand, which hurt her more than she wanted it to. This was crazy; he couldn’t keep trying to force her into a body only to have her essence destroy that body. She tasted blood in her mouth and felt it trickling out of her nose and a fresh wave of tears hit her eyes but it was murky, causing little clouds to form along her tattered vision.
“I…hate…you…” she hissed, trying to get another blow in before the body crumpled entirely. “I hate you!” she screamed, the leech of words bleeding off the walls. He let go of her arms and grabbed her head, a hand on either side of her temple. She thought for a moment it was another attempt at calming her but the twist and snap of the neck echoed through her, shoving her out of the body and into the golden prison.
“I’m not sorry,” she heard him hiss before he yanked another person forward and slammed the pocket watch into their palm. Like every other time before Kaliel was forced to flow through the body like a parasite until she hit the dead center of their essence—a bright white orb of light and spark, before snuffing out their life.
***