Villains (8 page)

Chapter 4

Aria walked back to the cairn, the taste of the Ferryman on her tongue. Her mouth watered and she swallowed, savoring him as it trickled down her throat. She smiled so wide her aura glowed, lighting her way as she twisted and pirouetted on the balls of her feet. The moans from the trees mingled with the wind as she passed the fork in the road and paused thoughtfully, closing her eyes to relive the moment. She glanced at the snake attached to her wrist, a symbol of his love for her. She found the large rock and rounded it, her stomach lurching as Cassareece’s blue-lightning eyes pierced hers. Aria clutched her stomach, trying to conceal her loud thoughts from the Valtanyana woman.

“You returned.”

Cassareece raised her eyebrows and followed Aria inside the cairn. The fire was burning down to the embers and light was scant. “I promised. Do you think I don’t keep my promises?”

Aria shook her head, something was different about Cassareece, she was vexed. “I didn’t expect you…now.”

Cassareece flicked something off her shoulder and swept her long white blonde hair behind her. “The time for death has come. You didn’t think I’d warn you?”

Aria stared at her terrible expression, amusement, insanity maybe, reflected in her blue eyes. Aria tried not to flinch, but she feared her expression gave her away. “I’m not—”

Cassareece’s mouth tightened. “I marked you. You will play a great part in the war.”

“I stand with Tor,” Aria said, while another part of her, a part deeper than she’d ever known cried out to her. She might stand with Tor but she belonged to Kallow, her Ferryman. Tears threatened to overflow as she squared off with Cassareece, a silent duel passing between them.

“I only came to warn you. War is coming.”

Aria closed her eyes, her heart counting out a steady rhythm in her chest. She opened her mouth and thought she’d let out a cry but what poured forth from her was nothing if not beautiful. Sound pierced the air as Aria sang her birdsong, a cry for help, a plea for salvation, a need to be saved. Cassareece was gone, as though she had never been there and in her place, were the eight shapes of the Flames, each of them carrying their weapon in hand, each of them a shimmering ethereal. The Obsidian Flame formed a cloak over his shoulders, while the Ruby Flame formed a pristine glassy face and piercing red eyes. She adorned herself head to toe in a bright red pant suit. The others took longer, some of them didn’t mimic skin or clothes at all. The Citrine Flame remained a blob of golden yellow energy, where as the Emerald Flame managed animal-like eyes, but nothing more. The Iolite Flame was next to the Ruby Flame in beauty, long jet black hair, oval shaped white eyes, and turnip shaped face. Her lips were the color of blood. She wore a long white dress, fabric criss crossing her arms and tapering off near her fingers.

Staring at them Aria saw what she saw in herself. They weren’t weapons, they were beings, thinking, feeling, breathing, beings. And all of them counted on her to tell them what to do. Aria felt her palms sweat, felt it bead on her forehead and slide down her cheek. She didn’t want to tell them why they were created, or what Tor thought of them. But she couldn’t ignore Cassareece.

“We need to fight,” she whispered, thinking of Kallow and all his endless wars in the Lands Across the Stars, all of the Valtanyana’s pointless charades. The Flames were nothing but more pawns, part of the game—unless she changed it, unless she killed every last one of them herself.

“We stand with you, Aria,” Klavotesi spoke, thrusting the scythe in her direction as a salute. The others followed suit, the Ruby Flame extending her sword, the Carnelian Flame holding her lantern high, the Azurite Flame placing the crown on his head. Aria forgot about the crowns. She touched the one on her head, the feather shooting out of it like a Flame. She stole a glance at the heap of armor on the stone bench and smiled.

“I will call upon you when they come.”

And with that they dissolved, being absorbed by the crystals attached to their items. Aria slumped, unable to fathom the great tasks ahead of her. If there was one thing she wanted before the war, it was to give the Ferryman a gift. She commanded the armor to the fire pit and melted it down, feeling it with her hands, worrying away at it until there was a head band and a series of ouroboros circling it. When she pulled it out it seemed lopsided, but it was the best she could do. She tapped on the scythe and Klavotesi appeared.

“You call so soon, are they come?”

Aria laughed, even though it wasn’t funny. “No…but….” she presented the crown, and Klavotesi glanced at the snake on her wrist.

“You’re in love, child.”

Aria blushed and almost cried the emotions were so powerful. “Yes…yes I am.”

Klavotesi grabbed the crown and his magic solidified the metal, transferring it to the Ferryman’s world so he alone could wear it. He was about to leave when Aria pivoted, meaning to put the crown on the stone bench and Klavotesi gasped. “You’ve been marked.”

Aria couldn’t look at him. “Aye. She did it before I knew what it meant.”

Klavotesi didn’t touch her but she felt compelled to look at him. His hooded black eyes were strong, serious, where his face was chalky white. “It will be her downfall, not yours.”

“Aye.” Aria understood. She would take what Cassareece had made her and turn it against her and the rest of the Valtanyana. Klavotesi exploded in a cloud of dust, settling into the scythe as Aria sat, waiting for dawn.

Tor woke to the star cloud covering the sky from one end of the horizon to the other. Its emerald greens and shimmering golds mingled with each other, like a battle raging on between them. There was no dawn, only the cloud stretching, twisting, roiling across the sky. Its unnatural light lit the ground in patterns of green and gold. Tor stepped out of his tent to chaos. The villagers were panicked, all of them shouting at each other as they gathered their trunks and rucksacks in haste, ready to flee. Tor didn’t know what to tell them. He caused this war, and he couldn’t keep them alive, and he couldn’t let them stay and die bloody deaths.

Peaceful people didn’t deserve bloody deaths.

He traveled down the wide sandy path, sloping down the hill and curling around short shrubs towards the shores. Soon his feet hit the sand bar, the tide low, a thousand ships on the deep green sea, as far as the eye could see.

Tor knew what was in those boats, every animal from Avristyr, the Lands of Beasts. Avrigost was known as the Lands of Kings. The only people who lived there were handpicked by the Valtanyana either for service to them, or for their unique abilities. Tor put a hand to his brow to better make out the black ships with their spiked spires for masts, and fang-like teeth for bows. He bristled, his memory failing him. He was created in Avrigost, forged by a woman of great power whom he never met. He didn’t know everything that happened in Avrigost, for few ever did, but a father and a son fought, and the son overthrew the father, the only High King at the time. The son became King, but the others challenged him, and he realized that combining power was better than reserving it for himself. He found when he linked together with another son, his power doubled. And therefore the brethren began to form. Tor took a deep breath, recalling his own youth and the selection process underwent by all Children of Avrigost. Darkness encircled him for years, and out of that darkness came tests of strength, of mind, of wisdom, and power. Darkesh discovered early on that Tor was unlike the other Children of Avrigost, and eventually marked him as the last to be invited to join them, to take the last chest of original dust and mark it as his own.

And that was when Tor stole the chest and came to Tempia, and when they chased him Across the Stars.

Someone caught him by the arm and pushed their face into his scaly shoulder. “You must come with us to Avrigard,” Desaunius said, desperation lacing her words. Tor glanced behind her, at the chests and bags strewn on the path haphazardly. His things and her things tangled together.

Tor took a deep breath, his eyes on the war ahead. “You know I cannot.”

“You will give in and become one of those terrible kings.”

“I will stand against them. They cannot take back what they’ve done.” He didn’t need to explain to Desaunius that once his essence touched the chest of original dust, it belonged to him and none other could mark it with their energy. The Valtanyana could fight him, but they couldn’t change their decision and take his dust. That’s what made them so desperate, knowing his dust could be a catalyst to their plans of absolute power and absolute corruption. Tor was the final puzzle piece, completing a brethren of tyrannical Kings and Queens.

Desaunius disentangled herself from him and stalked up the path. “Say goodbye to me then, for after this, we will never see each other again.” She took hold of the bags and the chests moved along behind her as she trudged up the path and took towards the lake. Tor took one last look at the horizon before following Desaunius and the other villagers to the flower-shaped lake.

They gathered around the pristine lake reflecting the star cloud in one endless sheet. When Desaunius moved to the edge, the others with their muddy faces, squat bodies and pointy ears stared at her expectantly. Desaunius recited an incantation and placed a finger in the water, swirling until a maelstrom encompassed the lake, a vortex to Avrigard. One by one the families waded into the lake with their belongings, and each one was sucked into the maelstrom, disappearing through it.

Tor checked the haunted forest repeatedly, knowing that soon he’d have to see Aria, and awaken the Flames. The last family entered the lake, leaving only he and Desaunius. She gripped one of his hands, another cupping his face.

“If you lose, all will be lost.”

Tor hung his head. Desaunius was always like that, stating the truth even if it hurt, even if she didn’t understand what she was saying in the first place. He pressed his forehead against hers, wanting to savor every last moment with her, until she broke away and sunk into the waning maelstrom. The top of her head vanished, and the maelstrom ceased, creases unfolding to show the angry star cloud.

He turned to see Aria at the edge of the forest, an uneasy expression on the girl’s face. He quickened towards her, his gait uneven. “Aria!” he called, but she turned and fled into the forest.

Aria’s feet slapped against the cracked dry earth as she padded away from Tor, away from the spectacle at the lake. The villagers were leaving, they weren’t fighting with Tor and she thought of it as cowardice. Why should she have to fight for their home, their safety? Why did she have to save anyone at all? Anger rippled into her but she couldn’t say what she was thinking to Tor. She rounded the cairn and stepped inside, whipping the canvas off the Flames.

“The war is here,” she shouted, her voice half-filled with song. She let a cry escape her throat in a trill of pitch perfect notes until the Flames took form, each of them ethereal, beautiful, and deadly. Tor stopped in his tracks at the mouth of the cairn, his gold-lightning eyes awestruck.

“Aria!” He braced himself on the stone, taking in each of the Flames in their full forms.

Aria stepped forward, even though Klavotesi was trying to hold her back. She neared Tor and though she didn’t want the Flames to hear her words, she couldn’t help it. “I told you we weren’t weapons.”

His eyes met hers and understanding flashed between them. “Only once. When this is over you have my word, to have your lives.”

“We will stand with Aria,” Klavotesi spoke, his tone commanding.

Tor stood taut, trying to tower over them. “Do not forget that it was I who brought you forth from the mountain. I am your creator.”

Klavotesi reached Aria’s side and she felt a surge of power in her form, something threatening to erupt. She took a step away and the feeling subsided. “Aria is our leader.”

Tor nodded. “They will reach the fields in moments. We have no time to spare.” Tor turned from the cairn, leaving room for them to pass him. Aria caught Klavotesi’s eyes though she didn’t touch him. Isadora left the cairn, and the others followed, but Aria held Klavotesi back.

“Will you lead them in my stead?” She didn’t need to explain to Klavotesi what she needed to do, the look in his eyes told her he understood.

He shot her a brazen smile. “Tell him to come die with us,” he said, his eyes moving to the bracelet on her wrist. Tor appeared at the mouth of the cairn, a tight expression across his demonic features. Aria tried not to notice how similar he was to the enemies, but standing there on the precipice of battle, he could have been as terrible as them, black lips, silver tongue, horns protruding from his jaw line and temples. Her eyes hardened as she communicated her last thoughts with Klavotesi silently and he followed the others to the battlefield, leaving her alone with Tor.

“You won’t stand with me?”

Aria glanced at the far end of the cairn, seeing the crown of snakes she made. Her chest constricted but she held in all the emotions threatening to explode. “I didn’t tell the others I’m not like them. I didn’t tell them why you created them. I didn’t tell them what you planned to do with them after this war. I kept your secrets, you must keep mine.”

Tor blanched, defeated. “I don’t understand, Aria, what secrets?”

Aria crossed the cairn, putting the feather crown on her head, and taking the crown of snakes in her hands. “I must call the Ferryman.” She passed him without another word and rounded the large stone cairn, not bothering to take another look back at her creator.

Aria couldn’t stop thinking about the wise man. Kallow didn’t have time to come back for him before the war touched their shores, and the villagers fled, leaving nothing but the Flames and Tor to stand against the endless legions of the Valtanyana. She couldn’t help the fear in her bones as she skipped over the pretty poisonous petals, guilt lancing through her for Afton, for Skeld, for the quenny fruit the Valtanyana burned in the blink of an eye. She wound through the trees, the ghosts moaning louder than ever before, the crown in her hand feeling heavier as she smelled the salt and heard waves lapping against the shore.