Vulture (10 page)

11 - Swamp Water Girl

Kaliel woke in a bed of brambles. The land was quiet, the moon hanging above her like a marionette on strings. A thick mist settled around the thickets at her ankles, shifting like a living fog. She pushed herself up and tiny thorns cut into her hands. Droplets of blood oozed out of the wounds and she instinctively wiped her hands on her ivory dress. The color startled her and she stood, thorns digging into the soles of her feet. She looked to the left and then to the right but the brambles continued into the horizon. She wanted to run but she couldn’t, wanted to kneel but the thorns would scratch her shins, wanted to escape but there was nowhere to go.

Hooves thumped in the distance. A thick wall of tumbleweeds and sand clouds kicked into dirt devils, twisting backwards into the sky. Her mouth hung open as she pressed her hands to her chest and went to scream but a young girl appeared. She had a swamp-soaked nightgown to her ankles, raven’s hair brushing the ground, skin as pale as Kaliel’s birthstone, lips bruised blue.

The hooves hit an apogee as the riders and the storm hit them, circling, brambles shooting up into the sky. Kaliel crouched instinctively, her hand flashing out to grab the little girl’s hand, but she stopped short.

The girl turned like she was floating and faced Kaliel, her deep black eyes crackling with lightning–the same kind of lightning that split Crestaos’s eyes like glass. She fell on her knees and tried to catch her breath.

Blood caked the girl’s hands a thick, soupy red that slid between the cracks of her delicate fingers and dripped onto the brambles. She grinned charismatically as the pandemonium reached a deafening sound. Thorns raked across Kaliel’s arms, cheeks, legs. She screamed. Her eyes squeezed shut as she crouched, trying to avoid them, all of her instincts telling her to run, hide. She didn’t know how to fight them off.

“Are you afraid of the Horsemen?” the little girl asked. Kaliel didn’t look at her, but she nodded in response. “You should be. Morgana brought them.” Her voice was syrupy sweet.

Kaliel carefully lifted her head from her knees. The little girl’s eyes knifed into her, crackling with jagged lines of lightning. The Horsemen kicked dust into Kaliel’s eyes and she recoiled, blinking rapidly, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Why did she bring them?” Kaliel asked, scowling at the girl. Blood dripped off the little girl’s hands. She held them palms to the sky, like offering the blood to the stars.

“Because she’s coming for him,” she said.

“Who is she?”

The little girl smirked. “She’s me of course.”

There was a loud gust of wind and Kaliel fell on her hands and knees as laughter erupted from the little girl. The sour sound of chimes rose into the tornado of brambles and dust. It pierced Kaliel’s ears with the fortitude of a thousand bells ringing all at once. The sound made her cover her ears, trying to muffle the noise. “What do you want?” she shouted through gritted teeth. Her hands splayed across either side of her head to protect her eyes from the threat of the thorns but it was no use. They whipped her body with needles, the fresh scent of blood rising into the air as her skin broke open.

“I want him,” Morgana whispered. The lingering sound twisted into the tornado and Kaliel gasped, choking on a mouthful of sand and twigs. She squeezed her eyes shut and remembered where she had seen eyes like that before. The image of Crestaos’s white lightning eyes, his pallid face covered in black moles, and slicked back white hair permeated her vision. She cried out but no sound escaped her lips. She tried to bring herself to her feet and look at Morgana but when she opened her eyes nothing but darkness and silence surrounded her.

Her heart beat wildly as she sat and hugged her hands to her chest. Krishani slept soundly beside her. She frowned, remembering what Morgana said and drew up her knees. A loud sob erupted from her, followed by another, and another, her shoulders shaking with the force and pressure. This couldn’t be happening again. After all they had been through, she wanted him? What could she possibly want from Krishani?

He stirred at the sound of her sobs. She tried to quiet them as he rolled over and opened his eyes. His expression was disoriented and confused. He wordlessly covered her with his arms, pressing his forehead against her temple. “What’s wrong?”

Kaliel curled the sheet in her hands, tangling it in her fists. She didn’t want to talk about nightmares. There weren’t supposed to
be
nightmares anymore. They were supposed to be happy. “He’s still alive,” she whispered, unable to comprehend what Morgana was or what she was after. Krishani pulled his face back, his mismatched eyes digging into hers with a sharpness she hadn’t seen in them before.

“I promise you, Crestaos is dead.”

Kaliel took a deep breath. “Something is coming.”

Krishani seemed too calm. He wrestled the sheet out of her hands and made her put them on either side of his face. His eyes met hers, his expression resolute. “Nothing is coming for you. You’re safe.”

The crippling fear of the dream abated her extremities as she tried to remember the things that were true.

The Flames were in the village.

Krishani killed Crestaos.

The Daed died in the battle.

There were no more enemies she should be afraid of. Morgana was only a child, and it was only a dream. She exhaled and lay down. Krishani followed and nestled his head in her shoulder.

“Everything has changed,” she muttered

Krishani curled his lips up in a faint smile. “Not everything,” he began gently, running his hand along her torso to comfort her. “I still love you, and that won’t ever change.”

Kaliel didn’t say anything. She nodded imperceptibly and closed her eyes, letting sleep wash over her again.

• • •

Morning was a smoother start, the sun reaching afternoon by the time Kaliel decided to move again. She had lain there with her eyes on the ceiling for what seemed like forever, listening to the deep rhythmic breathing of the boy next to her. She kept smiling to herself. She couldn’t hide the happiness inside of her if she wanted to. She heard footsteps on the porch and sat, self consciously pulling the sheet around her. She waited as the footsteps retreated. Relaxing, she scooted to the edge of the bed, pulling the sheet tighter around herself and moving to the door. It swung inwards and just outside the door were a heap of garments, the bags from Avristar, and a plate with bread and a mug of thick white liquid. She took the things inside, happy she had another dress to wear. She fit the black dress over her form and fumbled with the strings in the back.

As she cleared her hair from her eyes she caught Krishani staring at her. “You were awake the whole time?” She gasped, still trying to tie the dress.

Krishani nodded and moved to the edge of the bed, pulling her to him. He ran his fingers through the strings and pulled them taut. “I wasn’t awake long,” he said softly. He sounded like he was living in a dream. She remembered the bread and white liquid, bringing the plate and mug over and sitting on the edge of the bed. She stared into the cup and scrunched up her nose. “What do you suppose this stuff is?”

“It comes from the goats,” Krishani answered lightly as he broke the bread in half and handed her a chunk. She squished it into her mouth and bit down hard, chewing the grainy dough. It didn’t taste much better fresh. She looked into the mug again but Krishani took it from her and took a sip. “It’s not that bad,” he said handing it back.

“There aren’t goats on Avristar,” she said, wrinkling her brow. She carefully took a sip and noted the sweet but chunky flavor. It didn’t really satisfy her but she was thirsty enough that she tried more.

“There are lots of animals on Terra,” Krishani replied. He looked distracted, almost at a loss of what to do. Kaliel watched him intently. He was skinnier than he used to be. He had faint outlines of bruises on his torso, stitches in his right shoulder. She ran her fingers along the little sutures. He glanced at her, his eyes telling her that she should be cautious.

“When did you get this?” She finished with the bread and liquid. On Avristar she was used to tea or sparkling water from springs. Nobody ever drank anything that came from animals.

Krishani covered her fingers with his and moved her hand away from his scar. He stretched his neck out and she watched his throat bounce when he swallowed. “In a fight with the Daed,” he answered; his eyes were serious and lethal.

“Oh.”

Silence hung between them.

Kaliel took in a deep breath, bunching her hands in her lap. “I feel like nothing good happened when I was …”

Krishani inched forward, cupping her face with one hand and forcing her to look at him. His eyes were melancholy and dangerous which Kaliel couldn’t get used to. “You were in my dreams.”

She formed a wan smile which dropped into a frown. “But you woke to …”

Krishani pressed his forehead against hers, his breathing uneven. “Don’t—I can’t talk about it. It’s over and you’re here.”

“I’m not—” He opened his eyes and she was shocked by the up close view of his pupils. Fleck of deeper blue and green circled the irises, and Kaliel was sure that without her Krishani was barely surviving.

“You’re you. You’re not like the others.”

“The others?”

“Flames. You’re not like them.”

Kaliel almost recoiled but his hand was caressing her neck, his lips so close to hers she could almost taste them but she didn’t lean forward. Krishani knew her kin better than she did. All she had were night terrors of them, and it wasn’t enough. It bothered her—not being able to remember the First Era, not knowing Klavotesi when she saw him, it was discomforting. She tensed. “I don’t know what I’m like.”

Krishani let out a breath that sounded like a laugh. “You shine. When things are dark—you make everything bad seem—okay I can’t explain it, but it’s just something about you. You’re like your own star.”

Kaliel blinked, her hands covering his and taking them away from his face. He was staring at her intently, gauging her reaction until she finally laughed. “I don’t think I’m any different than anyone else.”

Krishani rolled his eyes and let out a huff. “You’re impossible to compliment.” Krishani put the empty plate and mug on the desk after draining the contents.

Kaliel looked at the floor, wrapping her arms around herself. “I don’t think being different is a good thing.”

He shot her a look, his eyes darkening. “The other Flames are weapons. I’m glad you’re different.” He said it under his breath but Kaliel heard it, refusing to comment. She averted her eyes as he picked through the pile of folded clothes and got dressed. He slid the shin high boots over his feet last and took her hand in his, pulling her off the bed. “Come on,” he said, dragging her to the door.

“Where are we going?” She followed him down the stairs and landed on the dry, cracked soil. Nothing was as vibrant as it was on Avristar. A large tree rose a few feet from the stairs. It had a modest trunk and large limbs that twisted into the sky and hung over the top of the watchtower. It wasn’t nearly as tall or wide as the red cedars she was used to. Its leaves were a type she’d never seen before, all kinds of green, but some of them had holes chewed through them. She scratched her arms through the long sleeves as Krishani kept her hand in his and pulled her towards the trail.

“I thought we could explore the village,” Krishani said.

Kaliel laughed. This was a different side of Krishani she wasn’t used to. He was usually the type to tuck himself away in some cave and stay to his thoughts. He wasn’t even wearing the cloak. He wasn’t concealing himself and he was tracing patterns on the inside of her palm like he didn’t care who caught them together. She didn’t deny that what she had seen the night before intrigued her, but she wasn’t sure there was a lot for her to discover in a place like this.

“Are we allowed to do that?” she asked, shrugging her hand out of his. He walked ahead and in the afternoon sunlight his black hair glowed at the tips, fine locks brushing along the nape of his neck, pushed back behind his elongated ears. He looked at her, a shadow falling over half of his face, his blue and green eyes intensified by the contrasting light. She never noticed those features before–the curve of his full lips, defined cheekbones, faint traces of dark eyebrows and eyelashes that framed his eyes. He didn’t look like any of the villagers by a long shot.

He began walking backwards, seeming carefree in his beige tunic and black breeches, a belt at his waist and familiar boots on his feet. He spread his hands out to either side of himself and glanced at the sky. “I’m the Ferryman remember? This is supposed to be my home.”

Kaliel cringed at the word home. He didn’t grow up here, and he wasn’t even proud to be a Son of Marlow Tavesin. She skipped a little to catch up as he passed rows and rows of cabins and came on the main road. The barn sat in the center of town. It was almost as tall as the castle, with big wooden paneled siding and a curved roof. She wondered what kinds of animals they kept inside. Her eyes followed the fences. Brown feathered chickens clucked, plucking away at seeds on the ground. She didn’t say anything as Krishani grabbed her hand and lead her towards the stables. She stopped, staring at a small hut in front of the barn. It was smaller than the other cabins, with narrow stairs to the tiny door and triangular roof. There was a lot of noise coming from it. A moment later Pux emerged looking disheveled and tired. There was squawking behind him and he brushed it away with his hand as the door slammed shut. In his other hand he had a basket of eggs. Her eyes lit up and she waved.

“Pux!” she cried, breaking from Krishani. She stopped short at the fences … they weren’t very effective—more like large hollow squares. She quickly ducked under a beam, dodging grains and chickens as she caught up to him. “What are you doing?” she asked, fascinated by his early morning chores.

He shrugged and gestured to the basket of eggs. “Nobody really likes going in the chicken house. These are for dinner tonight.”

“Is there another feast?” she asked.

Pux smiled. “There’s a feast every night, although tonight it’ll be in the mess hall, not the Tavesin Hall.”