Villains (4 page)

Tor wasn’t afraid.

“Show yourselves!” he cried.

The familiar sniggering from Cassareece wafted through the air. She appeared between two trees on the edge of the bonfire. Her blonde hair glittered in the light as she sauntered towards him. The other two emerged behind the villagers, surprised shrieks ringing out. Tor heard someone hit the ground hard and gritted his teeth in response. The villagers weren’t his to protect, but this wasn’t their fight. Anything that happened to them was his responsibility. He turned a fraction of an inch to see what happened, attempting not to show any emotion. Cassareece had her sparking blue eyes on him, watching and waiting for him to show his weakness. He refused to do that.

Joviasson licked his lips as he approached, sliding a thin blade out of the sleeve of his jacket.

“Consider this a formal request to join us in Avrigost, neophyte Toraque. Will you truly deny us a second time?” He had an edge to his voice, vibrating with every syllable that fell.

Tor crossed his arms. That word, neophyte. He was no neophyte, not when he knew more than any of the villagers Across the Stars combined. Not when he grew up in the place he escaped from. The moment he knew what he was to them was the moment he knew he could never live up to their expectations. He wouldn’t give them the kind of power they desired.

“I refuse.”

Darkesh growled.

Joviasson grunted.

Cassareece gasped.

“We could be so happy, Toraque,” she pleaded.

Tor tossed a glance over his shoulder at her, his gold lightning eyes crackling with anger. “You don’t own me, Cassareece.”

She snorted. “You don’t know what you’re giving up.”

Tor faced her. “You know I won’t be a pawn in your games.”

“But you already are,” Joviasson said. Tor whipped around only to find Skeld in the iron grip of the disfigured kraken. His slits for eyes narrowed at Skeld.

“Let him go.”

“Come with us,” Joviasson sneered.

“I refuse.”

“Then we will have your kin.”

Cassareece laughed again and her form disappeared from the trees. Tor left Skeld at the bonfire as he chased Cassareece back to his tent, back to Desaunius. He entered the tent but Cassareece was nowhere to be seen.

“Desaunius?” Tor moved to the cot, shaking her awake. She turned, her green eyes full of alarm. In her arms she cradled the seashell.

“I meant to bring it to you tonight. I knew you’d need it.”

Tor took it dumbfounded as he scoured the tent for signs of Cassareece. She wasn’t there. He grabbed Desaunius’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “Come, you need to stay by my side.”

Desaunius stayed in her nightgown as Tor pulled her to the bonfire. When he arrived, Cassareece stood exactly where she had been before, as though she hadn’t moved an inch.

“You’re such a fool, Toraque,” Joviasson sneered. Skeld was on his knees, a dagger tight against his neck. Joviasson flicked a look at Desaunius and smiled before sliding the blade across Skeld’s throat, thick burgundy blood staining his tunic.

Tor caught Desaunius as she fell, a ghastly cry erupting from her lips. She buried her face in his tunic while he stood there, the seashell in one hand, the love of his life in the other. Sickness festered in his gut but he wouldn’t let Joviasson get the best of him. This wasn’t something meant to hurt Tor, it was meant to hurt Desaunius.

“My father,” she whimpered as Tor held her upright.

He leaned to her, guilt eating him for letting this happen. “Be strong,” he grumbled, not meaning to sound so harsh.

“How can I be strong when I know they’ll destroy everything I love?” Desaunius said through wheezing breaths that racked her tiny frame.

Tor sighed and against his better judgment he closed his eyes. It was an admission of vulnerability and it was the last thing he wanted to do. When he opened them, Joviasson had a menacing look on his face.

“You will deeply regret your decision.” He let Skeld go, kicking him in the back so that the body pitched forward, landing a few feet from Tor.

Tor went to speak but they slithered through the trees. He stared at the mess Skeld had become and eased Desaunius to the ground. He knew what would happen next, but didn’t know how he could get Skeld to the shores for safe passage and he had no idea if Skeld would make it through the haunted forward without getting tangled in a tree.

He remembered the seashell in his hands and brought it to his lips blowing hard on the end. It lit up with green flames as a loud ruckus spread across the clearing sky, yellow stars emerging from their holes. He put the shell down and sat beside Desaunius. He wrapped his arms around her but she was inconsolable, her eyes focused on the carcass.

“I knew they were terrible, but I didn’t know they were like this,” she said after a long pause.

Tor rubbed her back, the guilt lancing through him even though he tried to keep it at bay. This was precisely why he escaped, but he knew no matter where he went, there would be casualties, someone would always get hurt.

“I won’t let them hurt you.”

Fresh tears streamed down her face. “You’re too late, my love.”

Tor sighed and pressed his head to her head. He had no words to explain how he felt; nothing would make her feel better about what was happening, what he expected for centuries.

“What are you and how did you end up being one of them?”

The pain hit Tor hard. It felt like his chest had cracked and if he wasn’t careful, pieces of it would break off and fall into the ocean, making him give in, making him become everything he wasn’t prepared to be. “I’m not one of them.”

Desaunius let out a breath turned her attention to the carcass. Cotton-like substance rose out of the body like smoke as Skeld died. The cotton twisted and formed into limbs, torso, and face. Tor stood, a gasp rippling through the villagers. The ghost of Skeld stared at Tor, its mouth worked but no sound emerged. It turned to the villagers and held its hands out to them. Tor recognized the way Skeld addressed the people, a farewell. The ghost turned to Tor, worry crossing his expression.

“I’m sorry, but you must take a journey,” Tor said. He hoped Skeld would understand. This was the way things were. When others on Tempia died, they ended up the same—ghosts wandering the haunted forest, ghosts making it to the shores and traveling to the other side. Skeld glanced at Desaunius and Tor followed his gaze. The woman he loved the moment he set eyes on her wouldn’t look up. She stayed huddled on the ground, hugging herself to keep the pain and the cold away. That was the thing about ghosts, they chilled the night air and made it seem like the land would freeze over.

Another rustle combed through the trees. Only Tor and Skeld acknowledged it. Tor turned towards the sound as Aria emerged, her eyes wide as she looked at the pool of blood staining the forest floor. She quickened to Tor’s side her big eyes imploring him to tell her what happened.

“I need you to take him to the east shores,” Tor said, putting his hands on either side of her shoulders and staring directly into her face.

Aria glanced at Skeld. “Is he going to end up like the others in the trees?”

“Not if you help him.”

Aria seemed to think for a moment. “What must I do?”

Skeld went to speak but only a breath came out. Tor held up a hand to him, his eyes boring into Aria’s. “Call the Ferryman.” He glanced at Skeld who looked both stricken and accepting at the same time. It was the only thing they could do to ensure that Skeld’s soul would remain intact. It was also the only way to ensure he would return. If he never left, he would be destined to spend the rest of his days in the trees of the haunted forest. Tor couldn’t imagine a worse fate.

“How do I call the Ferryman?”

Tor leaned closer to her and whispered the incantation that he learned as a boy on Avrigost in the Land of Kings. He released her once he recited the entire rancid thing and nodded to Skeld. “Be well my friend. I will see you again.”

Skeld nodded, moving to Aria and taking her hand. The motion seemed to cause a reaction in Aria that Tor hadn’t expected. “I can’t feel him either.” She frowned.

Tor gave her a withering look, as though he wanted to tell her why but he couldn’t quite explain it in time. Skeld needed to get to the shores as soon as possible, and Aria needed to take him there. Tor wordlessly took a coin out of his pocket and twirled it in the air, letting it meld and shift until to him it was smoke and to Skeld it was solid. Skeld took it in his hand, a last look of gratitude crossing his face as Aria pulled him through the bushes.

Tor sat beside Desaunius and rubbed her back. All he could think about was how Aria was caught between worlds. She wasn’t where the dead were, and she wasn’t where the living were. She was stuck in the in-between.

Aria tried not to think about the blood. She didn’t like it, the way it made the ground a deep shade of crimson. She walked alongside Skeld who floated, his bald head tilted to the sky, watching patterns of clouds blot out the stars. She never asked Tor to explain himself after she emerged from the volcano. She tried to understand her existence, but her mind was blank. She was nothing and then she was something, she blossomed like a crescendo. Certain things were still settling in her mind, the wheel-like movement of night and day, the villagers, the land. She absorbed knowledge from everything she encountered, and yet, she felt like she was on the outside looking in. She reached the main path with the shrubs along the walkways and Skeld stopped, looking longingly at the bonfire.

“Come, Tor says it’s important,” Aria urged, her perfect violet-colored eyes imploring. He looked at her and she understood. He lost everything in a moment. His rugged shoulders rose and fell once, and a tear slid down his cheek, in line with his big nose, and landed on his upper lip. She set her lips in a line but she couldn’t help him with his grieving.

Moments passed in silence as Skeld purveyed the land, seeming to memorize every last detail. He turned to Aria as he continued floating down the path towards the field with the flower shaped lake. When they reached the crest of the basin he glanced at her. “What do you know about Tor?”

Aria shrugged. She had been thinking of asking him the same thing. Tor was a mystery cloaked in armor and gifted with a keen sense of peculiarity. She couldn’t explain him. “I don’t know anything,” she said softly. She descended the hill, keeping in line with the uppermost part of the basin, as they crossed to the haunted forest. “I suppose he’s worried.”

“About the hunters?”

“Is that what you call them?”

“They are hunting him are they not?”

The corner of her lips quirked up as she ducked under the first branch in the forest. She went to reach for Skeld to tell him to avoid getting tangled in the branches but her hand moved through his and she pulled away, gasping as he shuddered.

“You are an unnatural thing,” Skeld exclaimed, but his tone was gentle, bewildered. Aria felt a pit in her stomach. She twisted her toe in the ground and twirled one a stand of long white hair in her fingers.

“Tor said I was a Flame. Do you know what that is?”

Skeld shook his head profusely. “No child, I’ve never heard of them. On Tempia we are peaceful, we tend our crops, we feed our children. We don’t look for trouble. You…you are trouble.”

Aria looked at the ground, littered with ferns and flowers the colors of the rainbow. “I didn’t mean…”

Skeld straightened himself out and pulled his tunic taut over his chest. “Nonsense, bring me to the shores, we will not speak.”

Aria ducked her head and continued walking, making sure Skeld didn’t scratch himself on a branch, and turn into the cotton-like puffs wrapping around the branches. Night grew deeper, the sky hidden under the canopy of shiny cotton ball trees. Aria avoided the cairn holding the other Flames, for all she knew Skeld would try to do something to them and she wasn’t prepared to have them marred. She felt responsible for them, even if they weren’t awake and she was.

Hours passed, and Aria smelled the salt from the ocean before she saw it. When they broke through the last of the withered and dying trees, her eyes moved to the horizon, a line of yellow, above it, the midnight green and below it, a silver black stretch of water as far as the eye could see. She looked nervously at Skeld.

“Are you ready for your journey?”

Skeld bowed his head solemnly and began humming a tune Aria didn’t recognize. His voice was deep, notes vibrating out of him in long successions, some of them sounding like growls. She held her hands out to the water and began whispering the incantation Tor told her. It was long, and the words didn’t make any sense to her. She spoke, letting the vibrations roll of her tongue. When she opened her eyes there was a boat in the distance. It was shallow, the ends rising out of the water merely a foot. From one end it looked long and skinny but as it neared the shores, Aria saw it was about as wide as her body if she were to lie down. At the helm was a figure masked by a massive ragged black cloak. She squinted as the boat pressed against the shore, a sizzling sound erupting from the land. Aria stood mesmerized, attempting to make out the Ferryman’s features. He seemed sad.

Skeld stepped forward, coming dangerously close to touching Aria. She stepped back involuntarily, and for a split second the Ferryman looked at her. The vastness of his hood hid his features from her, but it was like a knife dragging along her non-corporeal form, from her head, down her back and into her toes. The shock made her aura flare, violet white sparks igniting the night sky with artificial light. Skeld looked back at her, horror etched on his boxy face. He swiftly presented the coin, dropping it into an outstretched skeletal hand. The Ferryman didn’t remove his gaze from Aria as he closed his hand around the coin and Skeld stepped into the boat behind him.

Aria gulped, all the light draining out of her as the boat drifted away from the shores, disappearing in a swath of mist. She crumbled; knees and elbows hitting the soft grass as tears fell between the blades. A horn sounded and she perked up, dawn erupting from the horizon.