Vulture (30 page)
Authors: Rhiannon Paille
Tags: #juvenile fiction, #Legends; Myths; Fables, #Norse
Pux almost laughed. “He has impeccable timing.”
Kaliel shook her head. That was more like the Pux she was used to, making light of the situation, making her feel better.
“Don’t tell the villagers.”
“I don’t tell them everything, you know.”
She blushed, remembering the nights she asked him to stay in the cabin with her. It meant nothing, but now she knew what Pux meant when he said the villagers wouldn’t understand.
“Are you going to dinner?” she asked as they neared the steps to the castle and brought Krishani inside the hall. Kaliel was on their heels as the doors opened, Pux beside her as they hit the plush carpet, Elwen pacing the floor. He glanced up when he saw the guards and pointed to the hall, mumbling something about a room down the left corridor, a larger room.
Kaliel felt claustrophobic the moment they entered the cramped, narrow hallway with the low ceilings. The guard turned the corner and one of them opened the door at the far end of the hall. They laid Krishani on the bed in the middle of the room. Kaliel and Pux poured in after them, and as three of the guards left, the last one looked at her with pity.
“I’ll summon Lady Talina,” he said, bowing his head and ducking out of the room.
Kaliel sunk on the cot behind her and buried her face in her hands while Pux stalked the floor casting a glance at Krishani every few seconds.
“Are you staying to help?” she asked.
Pux gave her a funny look. “Do you need it?”
She nodded. “I don’t know how bad the damage is, or …” Tears stung her eyes. Cassareece promised he wouldn’t be a Ferryman anymore, but she didn’t promise to return him alive. It was too late to go back and revise her request: not a Ferryman … and alive. It seemed like details she should have been clear about. Her stomach sloshed in a sea of knots as she forcefully pushed herself off the cot and crawled along the floor to the side of his cot. She sat on the ground and pressed her face to his shoulder.
Pux took residence on the other cot across the room. He glanced at the scenery, and she could tell he was uncomfortable being there.
“I need to get his cloak off,” Kaliel said.
Pux moved wordlessly to the edge of the bed. He looked like he didn’t want to touch Krishani, but when Kaliel glared at him he gingerly picked up the hand nearest to the wall and pulled the unconscious boy up enough to slide the cloak off him. Kaliel tugged it around his neck, loosening it from his arm and bunching it on the floor at her feet. She shoved it away, inspecting the bruises. He was in a thin, sleeveless tunic stained with blood. She picked up his right hand. Black marks painted his palm, but it looked considerably better than the last time she saw him. She almost breathed a sigh of relief, knowing at least after he told her to go away he found help. Krishani let out a breath, and she thought he was waking up when he settled in, eyes sealed shut.
Kaliel sighed, studying his arms. A collection of yellow bruises with purple rings around the edges trailed his arm. His muscles were more defined than before, ribbons of muscle wrapped around his biceps and shoulders, making him look bigger, stronger. Her eyes trailed along his exposed collarbone, a deep gash near his jugular vein. Her eyes followed his body, stopping where fabric covered the slash across his chest.
A knock at the door was followed by a creak as it opened, the smell of rosemary wafting into the room. Talina didn’t waste time. She moved to the foot of the bed and began examining Krishani for injury, both internal and external. Kaliel watched, knowing though her capabilities weren’t as high as Talina’s she wanted to help. Talina glanced at his mangled face and stopped. She acted as though she hadn’t seen Kaliel sitting there, but her smooth facial features let on no hint of folly.
“Has he said anything?” she asked.
Kaliel shook her head. “It’s only a few bruises. I can take care of it myself.”
Talina narrowed her eyes. “He’s unconscious.”
Kaliel hung her head. “I was going to suggest an alfalfa tonic when he came to. Or hartshorn if it took too long …” She spoke under her breath, never blatantly expressing her knowledge of herbs to an elder before. She hoped she wasn’t wrong.
Talina stood and her lips formed a line. “You’re right. I have supplies in my quarters if you’d like to come.” She swept towards the door, her fingers gripping the knob.
Kaliel’s eyes flicked to Pux, who was trying to be invisible. “Pux will go with you,” she said, refusing to move from her spot on the floor. She didn’t care where Talina had her things stored. She wasn’t going to leave Krishani’s side, not for a moment.
Pux frowned and stood, looking defeated at the idea of being ordered around. Talina glided into the corridor, and Kaliel shot daggers at Pux with her eyes, forcing him to trudge along behind her.
Once they were alone, Kaliel closed her eyes and felt for the Flame. It burned and whined at her, ready to crackle and explode from every pore, but she couldn’t let Talina see it. Pux had seen it before and it confused him, so it was easier if he wasn’t there. Healing Krishani with her Flame was something she needed to do alone. She felt her face heat up and took a deep breath to control the fire. Her eyes snapped to liquid amethyst, the Flame buzzing through her skin, raising baby hairs on her arms and making a faint violet glow surround her.
She pressed her fingers into his skin, resting on the first of the jaundice-colored bruises. She moved up his arm methodically, touching and weaving the Flame into each wound. She reached his shoulder, trailed her fingers down the nape of his neck, and pressed her palm flat against his chest. She didn’t remove the tunic, but she expertly ran her hand underneath it, idly tracing the outlines of his packed abs and his contoured hips. There were bruises everywhere, and as she used the Flame to pinpoint the bruises she found her hands on his thighs, pressing into deep purple bruises from countless fights, falls, and hazards of living off the land. She felt bite marks in his ankle and pressed more energy from the Flame into it, hoping poison wasn’t snaking through his veins, damaging his insides with as much force as the swords and rocks had damaged the outside.
She moved her fingers off his ankle and glanced at his face. His eyes were open, staring at her with a hungry expression on his face. Heat rose to her cheeks, making the Flame flare. Her aura spiked, wisps of Flame wafting off it in sheets as he reached for her, a smirk crossing his lips.
Kaliel was going to say something but stopped herself, remembering their fight. “I think I healed all of the wounds. Does anything else hurt?” She tried to be matter-of-fact. She ran her fingers through her hair as she tried to control the mess of frizz and knots. He nodded but didn’t say anything, still reaching for her hands. Cautiously she put her hand in his.
“Just one thing still hurts.” Kaliel frowned as he moved her hand to his chest and pressed it to his heart. She sighed and smiled, almost laughed as he scooted to the side of the bed and let her sit down beside him. She felt the thumping of his heart under her fingers and the sound was enough to make that same electric pulse course through her when she was near him. She gulped, tried to relax, letting the Flame meld into his chest and link with his heart. It was something she had only done once before—in the forest when she awakened, when he made love to her. That night, she connected to him in a way that defied the laws of the land.
“Do you feel better yet?” she whispered, trying to keep her cool exterior. She didn’t know if he wanted her, and she didn’t want to rush into his arms, thinking he forgave her for putting herself in danger, for trying to help him.
He didn’t answer, but he brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, running the tips of his fingers up her inner forearm. “Are you really here?”
She sighed. “It’s not a dream, Krishani,” she said, letting the haughtiness lie crisp in the air. She hadn’t meant to sound harsh.
He opened his eyes wide and looked at her, really looked at her, and for the first time she saw all the horror he held in. All the things he was afraid of, all the pain he suffered, all the death he followed reflected in his eyes. She took a shaky breath, not sure what to say, but he spoke before she asked what he felt.
“I’m sorry,” he began, his eyes boring into her, desperate sadness still lacing through them. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I shouldn’t have told you to go.” His gaze softened. “All I want is this.” He reached up to cup her cheek.
Kaliel closed her eyes, waiting for his lips to meet hers, when there was a knock at the door. Krishani dropped his hand and Kaliel precariously scooted onto the floor. Her lips almost brushed his as Krishani propped himself up on his side, digging his elbow into the cot. The door swung open and Pux returned, a basket of bandages and small glass vials in his hand. Kaliel jumped to her feet, grabbing a vial and turning to Krishani. She popped the lid and forced it into his hands, her eyes blazing in a good way. “Drink,” she ordered.
He shot her a rebellious expression and downed the liquid, coughing as it hit him. Pux dropped the rest of the things on the cot and cleared his throat. Kaliel realized she was staring at Krishani unabashedly.
“Thanks, Pux.”
“Sure,” Pux said, shuffling awkwardly back and forth. He hooked a hand behind his neck and glanced at the door. “Do you two … need to be alone?”
Kaliel glanced at Krishani, who stifled a chuckle, and she mimicked his reaction. “No, you should stay,” Krishani said, gesturing to the cot.
Pux exhaled and sat, lay down, putting his hands behind his head. “Good, because it’s raining like hell out there. I don’t want to sleep in the loft with all that banging going on.”
Kaliel coughed. “Well there won’t be any banging in here.” She moved to her feet and glanced at Krishani.
“Better?”
“I’m perfect,” Krishani replied. He almost kissed her hand but stopped, moving to encompass the entire cot. He shifted his shoulders around until he was comfortable as Kaliel moved the bandages and other supplies and stretched out on the other cot in the room. She tucked her legs under the blanket and rested her head on the pillow. She waited for the boys to start talking but dozed off the moment her eyes slipped shut.
* * *
35 - Missing
The storm was gone by dawn and so was Pux. Kaliel woke to a haze of sunlight filtering through the window, casting a yellow glow on the drab contents of the room. It smelled horrible, like the stench of body odor and death was stuffing itself into the corners of the room like a pesky stain. She pushed herself up, glancing at the cot Krishani was on only to find him inspecting his hands. He had his right hand above him, turning it over again and again. She noticed the black marks on the inside of his hand, spider-webbing from the center of his palm. She shuddered while thinking about it. He failed to tell her how he contracted it and what he could do to make it go away.
She yawned loudly to announce she was awake and stretched. She’d slept well for the first time in a long time, even though she wasn’t pressed against him on the cot. It was good knowing where he was, being in the same room as him. He dropped his hand and moved, hanging his feet over the bed. His knees were bunched towards his chest, and she thought about how he seemed larger in general. He definitely wasn’t the scrawny boy she met in Avristar anymore. His hair brushed his shoulders, his knuckles were mountainous peaks, and baby-soft skin smoothed over them. He wasn’t tanned or wrinkled like the humans, but he showed the signs of wear in other ways—the depth in his eyes, the cracks in his lips, the miniature scars and blemishes on his skin. Anyone else wouldn’t see those things, but Kaliel noticed everything about Krishani like he was her lifeline to sanity.
Krishani pursed his lips. “What are you thinking?” He frowned, still glancing at the veins of black marks in his right hand.
Kaliel tried not to blush but she felt her cheeks coloring regardless. “You’re really here? For good?”
Something unreadable flashed across Krishani’s face. “I was half hoping you would tell me that.”
“Tell you what?”
“That I’m here. That this isn’t a dream.” The same unreadable expression stayed on his face. Kaliel glanced into his blue and green eyes and realized what it was: fear. She hadn’t realized how terrible the tasks of the Ferryman were, the kinds of things Krishani had to see, fight. Her heart throbbed at the thought of it, and she instinctively crossed the floor. After inspecting his lap, which was bunched up like a vice, she sunk on the bed beside him and clutched his arm with both hands. Her cheek found the bare skin on his shoulder and she breathed in the husky scent. It wasn’t attractive, but it was him.
“You don’t dream about me, remember?”
He sighed because she was right. He dreamed about death. Whatever she was to him during the day, she was an invisible nothing to him at night. She didn’t want to think about how she disappeared from his thoughts and took a shaky breath. “We should get some food.” She thought about berries, which were about the best food Terra had to offer. She wasn’t sure what Elwen would serve since most of the fields had been picked dry. They were almost finished with the harvest season. Summer came and went too fast for her liking.
Krishani stood and moved to the door. “I have to talk to Elwen,” he said, agitation rising in his throat.
Kaliel recoiled but didn’t show signs of it. She didn’t like Elwen. During her time in the village she’d managed to stay out of his way. “Is something wrong?”
Krishani turned and his eyes trailed over her black dress. She tried not to notice the way his veins jutted out of his neck, the way he looked like he would rather be doing something else with her than going to talk to Elwen. He let out a long breath, twisting his head back and forth to work out the kinks. “Something happened with the Horsemen …” Kaliel thought he was choosing his words carefully.
“Did you…?” She wasn’t even able to say it. She couldn’t ask if Krishani had killed them; she knew there was enough death in his life without him instigating it. Her thoughts traveled to the beach … to the man he killed. There was blood on his hands; he killed someone. Her head wobbled, trying to get the things she knew out of her head, the things she didn’t want to confront him about.
“They’re dead, but I didn’t kill them,” Krishani added for her benefit.
“Oh.”
He sucked in a breath. “I need to tell Elwen what happened.”
“What happened?” Kaliel asked, suddenly curious about it. It wasn’t like Krishani to be so agitated and perplexed, like something was wrong and he was seeing the signs of it but wouldn’t tell her what it was or what it meant. She couldn’t have that anymore. They dealt with enough grief on Avristar, she couldn’t bear him not telling her.
“One of them killed the other three, changed, then left.” He seemed confused.
Kaliel didn’t know how to feel. In part she thought it could be the dust she cast, Cassareece’s magic working its way in the land. On the other hand, it could be something else entirely. “If they’re dead, does that mean you’re not the Ferryman anymore?”
Krishani chortled. It was a low sound and it wasn’t funny. He met her gaze and became serious. “I have to ask Elwen. He knows more than I do.”
Kaliel stood and went to the door but Krishani stopped her. “Where are you going?”
“I’m hungry.”
Krishani narrowed his eyes. “Stay here. I’ll have one of the servants bring you something.” He turned to leave. Kaliel went to follow him but he stopped and twisted towards her.
“Please don’t … I need to talk to Elwen alone.”
Kaliel felt defeated. She backed into the room and closed the door, sinking onto the cot. He was Krishani, but that coldness she felt off of him after he defeated Crestaos returned and she didn’t know how to break him out of his shell. She closed her eyes and twisted her hands in her lap. It was hard waiting, doing nothing, hoping Krishani was okay. The dust worked; it had to have worked because he was back. But he hadn’t kissed her, and that made her more uncertain than ever. She curled up on the cot, letting her thoughts rage on in the back of her mind, hoping she hadn’t done something terribly wrong.
• • •
Krishani didn’t look back as the door closed behind him with a loud snick. He hurried down the hall, his hands smoothing out his hair. His thoughts were on everything but what he wanted to talk to Elwen about. He turned the corner and stood in the wings, staring at the stone arches, wooden pillars, flat stone floor, and red carpet.
Elwen stalked the floor, his brown robes making a lot of noise as he paced. Krishani made a sound and his ancestor looked up; his skin was sallow, brown eyes sunken in, hair disheveled, and his face a scowl.
Krishani didn’t bother with pleasantries with Elwen. He strode forward, hoping the assault would be easier this time. He did the work of a Ferryman and that should have made Elwen proud. Instead the Lord looked nervous. Krishani stopped and their eyes met as Elwen looked him over.
“You’re alive,” Elwen said.
Krishani didn’t want to go there. He shifted and held his hands behind his back. “The Horsemen are dead,” he said, and then he wanted to revise his statement but it didn’t seem entirely necessary, not until he explained.
Elwen stopped chewing on his fingernails and gawked. “I told you not to kill them.”
Krishani stood straighter, pulling his tunic down over his thighs. “I didn’t kill them.”
Elwen’s eyes widened. “You mean they found their deaths at the hands of something worse?”
Krishani shrugged. “They killed themselves.”
Elwen exhaled, aghast, and Krishani jumped back quickly enough to avoid his hand attempting to slap him. “Don’t come in here, spouting lies!” Elwen bellowed.
Krishani sighed. He stepped back far enough and leaned against one of the pillars. He crossed his arms across his chest. “The stone you gave me brought me here.”
“I know,” Elwen said, his face falling. He walked back to the throne and sat on it, stretching his fingers out along the armrests.
Krishani watched him. He wanted congratulations or something better from Elwen, not disbelief and violence. He’d had enough violence to last a lifetime. He smelled bread; they were going to have a feast later. He wanted to be with Kaliel, dance with her, kiss her. He clenched his fist. “I’m here because the Horsemen are dead.”
Elwen pinched the bridge of his nose. “Even if they’re dead, that’s not why you’re here.”
“Do you even care how they died?” Krishani snapped. He tried to control his anger but it got the better of him, spiraling up his arms and laying a heavy weight on his chest. He could have everything he wanted. He didn’t have to worry about the tasks of the Ferryman. He could live a normal life—if only Elwen would stop fighting with him.
“How?” Elwen asked through clenched teeth.
“One of them found a girl he couldn’t kill. The others tried to, and he decapitated them before they had the chance.” He didn’t mention the rest of it, the part about the girl; the delirium taking over his body at the time was too strong for him to trust his senses.
“And so one of them is still alive?” Elwen egged.
Krishani shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said, the words rushing out of his mouth. “The last one turned into a man and took the girl with him. I—I don’t think he’s a danger anymore.” He tried to fight the gnawing emotions in his stomach. He didn’t like the look on Elwen’s face, like something else was wrong and he wanted Krishani to fix it.
“You’ve done well,” Elwen said, even though his eyes didn’t say it. He didn’t look happy; he looked venomous, filled with something Krishani couldn’t decipher.
“So I can stay?” Krishani asked, his heart leaping into his throat. Kaliel was down the hall, near him all night while he tried to digest what happened, compress it, put it into little compartments, store it away in the farthest reaches of his mind. The nightmare was over, there shouldn’t be anything else to discuss. He was a Tavesin, and he should be allowed to live in the village and be like everyone else.
Elwen stood, his lethal expression replaced by complacency. “You can’t stay.”
Krishani felt a lump in his throat. A million curses and threats flashed across his mind, but he held his ground. Elwen gestured to the table and the platter of bread. “You might want to sit.”
Krishani shook his head, afraid to open his mouth, afraid he was going to cross the floor and wrap his hands around Elwen’s neck and choke the life out of him.
Elwen flexed his eyebrows. “Someone stole the Flames. They’re missing from Talina’s chambers.”
Krishani didn’t know how to react. It was like the land was tilting upwards, and he was sliding into a bottomless pit. His vision blurred, his fists clenched and unclenched, and instead of answering Elwen he let out a growl.
Elwen didn’t look impressed but he kept his face smooth. “I know how important they were to you. Even though the Horsemen are dead, or ‘not a threat’ as you put it, the Flames aren’t safe as you so callously told me once yourself.” He reached the table and picked up a piece of bread, breaking off pieces and folding them into his mouth. “You should be satisfied. I agree with you. The Flames will be safer in the Great Hall. That’s where you intended to send them, correct?”
Krishani heard the glee in his voice, the syrupy sweetness running off his tongue and scorching the floor with its acidic poison. He couldn’t hold it in. He reached for the dagger hidden in his boot, ready to drag it across Elwen’s throat. Ancestor or not, immortal or not, he could decapitate Elwen. He wouldn’t have to listen to him anymore, wouldn’t have to deal with his attitude and his disdain.
Krishani was about to do something he’d regret when someone in the wings coughed. His eyes went to the darkness, afraid to see Kaliel there. He told her to stay in her room for her own good. He knew the conversation with Elwen would be like this and he didn’t want her to hear it.
Klavotesi emerged from the shadows and Krishani felt his pulse slowing. He nodded curtly to the Obsidian Flame as he strode towards Elwen. “I don’t think Krishani should go,” Klavotesi said, his voice flat.
Elwen looked like his authority was being undermined as Klavotesi casually grabbed a bun and pulled it into his hooded face. “He’s the Ferryman. It’s his responsibility,” Elwen said.
Klavotesi glanced at Krishani and then back at Elwen. There was tension between them. Klavotesi held power over Elwen. Krishani envied him; he wanted to know the secret to putting Elwen in his place and keeping him there.
“This isn’t a Ferryman concern. It’s about the Flames,” Klavotesi seethed.
Krishani realized Klavotesi had every right to be concerned about the Flames; he was one after all. He let out the breath he was holding in as he walked over to the table and sat.
“Are you naming another to go?” Elwen pressed.
“I’m naming myself. I will find the Flames,” Klavotesi said, his authoritative tone rising above Elwen’s mocking sneer.
“Fine. Krishani will not go,” Elwen said turning on his heel.
Krishani grabbed a piece of bread and began tearing it apart. Klavotesi was still there, but he didn’t know what to say to him. After everything that had happened, all the hard work he had done, the Flames were gone. He closed his eyes, dreams about Morgana drowning his senses. Maybe she snuck into the castle and took them herself. It was what the Valtanyana wanted, and she was good at getting into places she wasn’t welcomed, like his dreams. There was a hand on his shoulder, and Krishani looked up to see Klavotesi looming over him.
“It gets easier. The enemies become less like demons and more like swine.”
Krishani sighed. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Klavotesi used to work with Ambrose in Amaltheia. Ambrose seemed so poised and confident. He acted like death didn’t bother him, like it wasn’t a constant reminder of what he was. He carried out his tasks honorably and with respect. Krishani wasn’t sure he really helped any of the people the Horsemen slaughtered. He tried to make it better, cast a silver lining around the situation by saving them from the monsters they couldn’t see—the Vultures. And yet, if he asked any of them what they thought of the Ferryman, they’d only say that the man on the white horse brings death. They’d run, cast him out the way Rand did at the cove. All they’d see was death, and he couldn’t change that.
“She’s waiting for you,” Klavotesi said.
