Vulture (22 page)

25 - Everything Changed

Morgana floated around low-lying clouds. Her skin was gray, a light drab hue, the same color of the nightgown that fell to her ankles. Her hair swirled around her, its straight, midnight black making spirals in the sky. Kaliel watched from the hill, knees pulled to her chest. She chewed on her fingernails, tasting the grit of the land caked underneath.

The little girl touched down, her feet hovering above the grass on the pathless side of the hill. She levitated to Kaliel, who eyed her with curiosity.

“You’re not afraid of me,” Morgana said, sticking out her bottom lip.

Kaliel froze, unsure how to react, and chose to continue her expressionless gaze at the things at the bottom of the hill: thick green grass, a couple of rocks. The land stretched out farther than the eye could see, in the distance were mountains, the gray blue of the sky scattered with clouds. It wasn’t raining anymore, but the clouds remained. They always seemed to be there on Terra.

“You should be,” Morgana continued. She moved so, even though she was only four feet tall, she towered over Kaliel. Her sad, black eyes scowled at the girl.

“You’re not like the others,” Kaliel said nonchalantly. She meant the dreams she had before–the ones that made it hard to breathe and the ones she died in. She no longer felt the same fear she used to feel towards Crestaos. It had been moons since the battle. The memory haunted her because of all the other things it caused, but actual fear of him wasn’t there anymore. A dead, empty space rested in her heart where fear was supposed to go because really, he had done his worst, and she was alive.

Morgana sat beside her, looked at the expanse, and sighed. “You didn’t listen to what I said before.” She seemed disappointed.

Kaliel turned her head and noticed Morgana slumped forward, her legs stretched out straight in front of her. Hair fell over her features so she couldn’t see her face, and her little hands hugged herself tightly. Kaliel couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.

“You’ve said a lot of things,” she said calmly. She wanted to take the small girl’s hand in her own but she stopped. Morgana started crying, bloody tears staining her gray dress. Kaliel remembered when it was blue, but it faded like she’d gone in the river too many times and water had washed away all the colors. Thick, red tears spread into the fabric, creating deep crimson welts.

“You never listened to the most important thing,” she sobbed.

Kaliel wasn’t sure how to react, as Morgana had never cried before. Her hand hovered over the girl’s back but she didn’t put it down, didn’t pat her or try to console her. The little girl’s words sunk in, and it was like she was running down the hill, kicking up dirt as she went.

“What important thing?”

Morgana didn’t answer right away. More tears hit the same spots and spread creating even darker spots of red, like bull’s eyes. She whipped her head in Kaliel’s direction and their eyes met. Kaliel felt a shock of fear hit her chest and spread into the rest of her bones. The little girl’s hands were fists at her sides. Her mouth foamed and little perfectly aligned rotten teeth showed–her incisors sharp. Her cheeks flared, encrusted with blood from all the crying, and her eyes—swirling orbs of lightning black, reflected Kaliel’s horrified expression.

“Ro tulten ho,” she seethed.

Kaliel heard it—this time in a language that terrified her, Morgana using her native tongue. That was probably why she missed it the first time, but the words were the same.
Ro tulten lye, Ro tulten ho,
the words that had haunted her for summers on Avristar now made sense. She fell backwards head over heels, rolling down the hill, landing tangled up. She crashed into a rock and laid there, her head pounding with dizziness.

Morgana stood over her, hands straight to her sides, a calm expression on her face. “Are you afraid of me now?” A little satisfied grin spread across her face.

Kaliel’s head throbbed. Her limbs felt buried under her like she crushed them the wrong way, but she dug around and righted herself, aligning her spine with the rock, taking long, deep breaths. She shook her head, answering no, and opened her eyes enough to see Morgana fading in and out of her vision, blurred together in circles and lines.

“You can’t have him,” Kaliel said breathlessly. Even though there wasn’t a challenge in her voice, Morgana turned vile.

“My Horsemen will have him! And the Vultures will take him!” She turned on her heel and disappeared into the clouds, gray melding with gray.

Kaliel opened her eyes halfway and immediately felt Krishani’s warmth beside her. She melted into him, knowing he was safe, healing. She knew other things, too. Morgana was one of the Valtanyana, and Krishani had lied. He told her they were gone, that all the enemies were dead or locked in Avrigost, but they weren’t.

And it stung.

• • •

Krishani woke to the heady smell of herbs lingering on him, and for a few brief seconds it felt like home. He went to rub his eyes and his hands brushed along rocks under him, proof he wasn’t home at all. Someone exhaled beside him, someone he was sure was only a dream, but as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes he knew he wasn’t dreaming.

“Krishani,” Kaliel whispered. He felt her shoulder leave his infected one and immediately flinched at the coldness. Self-consciousness coursed through him as he shrugged away. The smell was all over, covering him in a sticky paste. His hands trailed down his torn tunic and he touched the gash that was nothing but a red line across his chest. He tried to remember where he was, but the lights were low. He vaguely remembered the village and the villagers, faintly remembered a conversation between someone named Folki and something named Snorri, but they were all dead now. That was always certain when he was around. People died.

“Why are you here?” he asked, expecting to see her white hair. Instead, a girl that looked like her with black hair and forest green eyes met his uncomfortable stare. It smelled like the same girl, sounded like her, and she remembered all the things the right girl remembered, but it was locked in a different shell. Like a hermit crab. She worried away at the edges of her dress, picking at stray threads, untwining them, making them longer, pulling them out, snapping them.

“I came to help you,” Kaliel said, hanging her head. She touched his shoulder, and he knew she wanted to melt into his embrace–except Vultures had taken an entire village of souls and he hadn’t stopped them. He was aware of the disease creeping up his shoulder, folding into his collar bone, threatening to stretch across his neck. The place where she usually put her head would be pressed against cold, black, diseased skin. He couldn’t let her see him that way. He drew his knees up and angled his body towards her but didn’t invite her to touch him.

“I didn’t need help.” There was a hint in her eyes that it was the wrong thing to say. She sighed loudly and tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She almost cried, only she didn’t. She stared at him and at his blackened hand which he forgot to hide.

“That plague isn’t healing; it’s spreading,” she said absentmindedly. She ran her fingers along it and Krishani gulped and pulled his hand away, running it through his hair.

“Elwen knows how to cure that,” he muttered, not thinking about what he was saying. A black shadow moved across the darkness. The shape of Klavotesi reached the stairs where the light illuminated his black robes. He ascended the stairs and disappeared into the blinding light of day, leaving him alone with Kaliel.

“You didn’t come alone,” Krishani said, letting out a breath of relief. If she had gone anywhere on Terra by herself, with the types of things out there, he wouldn’t have been able to forgive himself. Without her this life of death and dying wasn’t one worth living. He hadn’t forgotten about Morgana or the coming storm of Valtanyana wanting to reclaim their lands. He hoped he had more time, time to kill the Horsemen and Morgana and stop her from awakening the rest of the Valtanyana. An image of the blue bulbous flame burned the back of his mind, down in her beautiful cave of vines and mud, where she would call them forth.

“Klavotesi,” Kaliel began, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked at him with desperation he’d never seen before. She wasn’t afraid for herself but afraid for him. “Will you come home?”

Krishani shook his head. “The Horsemen—I have to end them.”

“But they almost ended you!” she shrieked, tears tumbling onto her rosy cheeks. He noticed her eyes were puffy. Maybe he imagined her strength because she was crying before he woke. He extended his left hand, the one unmarred by the Vultures, and touched her cheek. She pulled away and stood, pacing the length of the cavern. She stopped in front of him and frowned at the disease on his right arm.

“You need to come home with me so Elwen can tell me how to cure that.” She crossed her arms and tapped her foot on the ground impatiently as he stared dubiously at her.

“He told me how to cure it,” Krishani said slowly, recalling the words Elwen threw at him, the words that smacked him in the face and made him feel physically sick.

Kaliel uncrossed her arms and a hint of a smile found her lips. “Then give me the names of the herbs and I’ll go find them.” He could tell she felt triumphant, and he found it amusing.

He smirked, but it was full of vengeance. He pushed his back to the rock and held up his black hand so he could see it. “I’ll need a couple dozen people on the brink of death and time,” he said sarcastically. His mismatched eyes flicked to her green ones, and his heart dropped as she sank onto the floor.

“You’re delirious,” she said, worry streaking her face. She went to touch his legs but he instinctively bent them up to his chest and gave her a look that said ‘don’t touch me.’ She didn’t listen, inching forward and reaching across the expanse of space between them. She took his left hand in hers. The buzz of energy wafted off her as the Flame filled every pore of her body. She had her eyes closed, but violet colored light encompassed her aura, and when she peeked at him her eyes were that same violet hue he’d fallen in love with on Avristar.

He laughed low and maniacal as she shared her energy with him and nothing happened to the disease. It didn’t retreat, flinch, or fight back. It nestled to his skin like a scar, and there was nothing the Flame could do about it. He glowered, not hating her for trying, but hating himself for being what he was.

“You can’t change me. I’m this or I’m one of them.”

“One of them?” Kaliel asked. She squeezed his hand tighter, taking his words for delirium and fought as hard as she could to work the Flame into his bones. It pulsed through him, tickling the wound on his chest, searing it shut, erasing the red line. When he showed her his right hand, it was still black. She looked at him, confused.

Krishani gulped. “Nothing.” He hoped she didn’t hear it in the same way he hoped she didn’t hear what the Great Oak had told him.

“I don’t understand,” she said, sweat making her palms slippery. He pulled it out from the sandwich of her fingers and put his hands on her shoulders. His eyes bore into hers, blazing with fire, regret, worry, and anguish.

“When you were dead …” he hung his head, avoiding her reaction, letting his hands slide off her shoulders as he slumped against the rock, the paralysis making his legs feel loose. He felt like the land was crushing him with enormous weight. It took every bit of strength he had to tell her, to see if she could accept it.

“You lied to me,” she said.

He wasn’t expecting her to say that, and as he sat there letting the land crush him, he responded. “About what?” Maybe Morgana, maybe the Vultures, maybe the Horsemen.

“Change. You said you didn’t but you did. Everything is different. Ruined,” she said, rustling the fabric of her skirts and repositioning herself on the cool rock.

“I know,” he echoed, his voice barely a whisper. This wasn’t what he wanted her to know.

He heard her stand and pace, the hem of her traveling gown dragging along the floor. He hunched his legs to his chest, pressed his fingers to the floor, stretched them out, and stared at the pasty white skin on the back of his rough knuckles. He fought so hard against what he was, rescued Flames, killed the foe that sought to possess her. He did everything he could to make the land safe, give her a life worth living. It wasn’t enough, and it wasn’t over yet.

“I can’t watch you turn into something I can’t recognize.” Her voice was shrill and cruel. It knifed into him the way Elwen had, Istar had. If there was someone who wouldn’t hurt him, it was Kaliel. She was everything.

He didn’t look at her. “Then go away!” he roared. “Let me do what I must do.” He didn’t care about the menace in his voice. “I can’t be what you want.” He covered his face with his hands. He couldn’t bear to test her reaction, but he heard her sniffling and he knew what he said was harsh enough.

“I will abide if it is your wish,” she said, the bitter edge of her voice sinking into his heart. He went to open his mouth, went to say she should go, but her footsteps on the stairs told him she was already gone.

* * *