Vulture (32 page)

37 - Priestess

Shimma narrowly pulled herself through the cracks between the rocks. Water pooled at her feet, and her dress was soaked. The village was gone, drowned out by waves crashing against the shore. Her blue eyes were bloodshot and full of tears as she scampered to her feet, tripping over stones that created an obstacle course to the tree line. She hitched up her skirts, bunching them in her fists, as she scrambled over them. The sky was a maelstrom of black clouds, swirling and kicking up the wind with the gale force of a hurricane.

She broke through the trees and glanced back at the shore. Water bubbled between cracks in the rocks, conglomerating on the surface of the spider-webbed, speckled gray rocks, an inch of water … four inches … ten. Shimma ran through the trees, tripping over herself as water poured over the crests and falls of the uneven land.

There was no time to think. One minute everything was fine, the next she was looking for her only escape from the flood drowning out the village. Memories of shrieks, rushing water, and splitting wood pierced her temples as she ran. The flash flood knocked the wind out of everyone it engorged, rendering them dead on contact. Her immortality hung on by a thread as she forced herself to the surface. Her lungs burst for air as salt water got trapped in her throat. It burned and tasted horrible, like seaweed and algae.

Now she spit and caught herself on the trunk of a skinny birch, gasping for breath. She gaped at the ravine ahead of her. She doubled back, finding a safe path across the treacherous land. She forgot all about the seven-day-ride through the mountains. She hunched over, wrapping her arms across her chest as she continued forward.

There was no doubt in her mind. She had to make it to Castle Tavesin and tell Krishani what was going on. Staying away from him was difficult, but this was different, something treacherous was brewing; she felt it. What she saw on the beach was coming for them. It would be there in less than a few days.

It was going to get worse, much worse.

No matter what he felt for her, she had to warn him.

• • •

It was near dawn when Shimma crossed the familiar forest and landed on the fields. They weren’t charred anymore, but the grass was turning beige as summer faded into autumn. Six days had passed since the tidal wave. She was in bad shape, with red splotches on her face, disheveled hair, mud staining her damp dress. She got caught in the rain three times and without any of her belongings she was stuck waiting it out. She tried to find things to eat, but nothing satisfied her stomach. It would have taken her a fortnight to travel through the mountains on foot, but urgency forced her to run, pushing herself beyond the limit. She wanted to collapse but she held herself up, determined to reach the gates before giving in to the fatigue in her limbs.

She made it halfway.

Her legs gave out and she crumpled to the ground, an arm slung around her aching stomach. She waited for what seemed like a lifetime, and then there were voices around her. She recognized them.

Krishani.

Kaliel.

Kaliel’s voice trickled away while Krishani stayed, yelling at the guards to help. Hands curled around her ankles. She was delirious, all the strength she once had draining away. They moved her inside the village, and Krishani ordered them to bring her somewhere, to the stables. She didn’t know why. They lowered her onto a bed of hay. She kept thinking about horses, kept looking for their hooves near her head, wondering if they were going to crush her. She flinched at the air until someone cleared his throat and she stopped, lifting her heavy head to see who it was.

Krishani was perched at the edge of the stall, his arms crossed, his expression hard. She couldn’t help it. The way the shadows ran off his face, he looked older, more muscular, and sexy as all hell. She tried to push away her feelings and find her tongue. He pressed his lips together, which only made her look at his mouth and wish for things she couldn’t have.

“The cove.” She choked. “They’re all dead.”

Krishani uncrossed his arms, alarm flashing across his face for a second before anger replaced it. “I told you not to go.”

Shimma gasped for air, the pain in her stomach making it difficult to stay propped up on her elbows. “I was helping them.”

“I thought you were going to Nimphalls,” Krishani barked.

She sighed and fell into the hay, too weak to move. “Kuruny and Kazza went. I didn’t follow.”

“And now those people are dead? Why?” Krishani snapped.

Shimma didn’t need to look at him to know he was angry with her for coming, for staying, for being at the cove. She knew what he was thinking about. Rand. The man he killed purposefully, the man he fed to death. She was afraid of him because of that, but he looked different, closed off, happier. Memories of the wall of water and panicked villagers pierced her mind.

“Flood,” she managed to say. It wasn’t quite like that; it crashed through the village like an explosion, eroding rocks, toppling over straw huts like they were as fragile as eggs. It pounded down the crevasse, washing away anything and everyone. The current sucked most of the villagers into the ocean, bringing them to its shadowy depths.

“Natural deaths?” Krishani asked.

Shimma thought about it. Nature was a harsh mistress on Terra; it didn’t have preference when it came to where it sent its waters, its winds, or its fire. She nodded, and Krishani turned away, muttering something about the villagers not being attacked. She lifted her head briefly and Kaliel was there, staring, her black hair trailing towards her waist. She was wearing the ivory dress Shimma remembered from Avristar, a black cloak around her shoulders. While that was the same, nothing else was. Kaliel looked at her with cold eyes, her hands clasped together in front of her. She held Shimma’s eyes for a moment before she tore away, following Krishani out of the stables.

Shimma didn’t need to ask what that look meant. It meant Krishani was hers and she should remember it. Shimma fell back into the hay and let the darkness cover her.

• • •

Klavotesi whipped the reins and hollered at his stallion as he fought through the sheets of rain bursting from the sky. It hadn’t taken him long to trace the patterns of energy through the forest and end up somewhere in the mountains. It was faint, almost washed out by the rain, but something familiar about the pattern made him uncomfortable.

He wanted to believe it wasn’t someone he knew from the village. It would be severely stupid of Elwen to find a better temporary hiding place for the Flames. Losing the Flames wasn’t a simple mistake. He let the stallion graze near the side of the road. He was already past the river. He wanted to keep moving. There was something in the mountains, something other than the massacre in the crown valley. He pulled the stallion’s head out of the bushes and trotted up the path, pausing at the downgrade of the forest. He curiously pulled the stallion down the hill, hit the shallow river, and crossed over the rocks.

Krishani had been there before, and Pux; he recognized the feorn’s energy anywhere. He was proud of the progress both he and Kaliel were making. He couldn’t promise them it would be like Avristar—the land had a magic all its own—but he was certain they had come a long way in the time he trained them.

Kaliel was better with theory than she was with practice, and Pux was the opposite. He had some interesting abilities Klavotesi failed to understand. Trying to teach him why his abilities worked was lost on him; he was a doer, not a thinker.

Klavotesi pulled the stallion effortlessly through the thin, vein-like path that twisted and curled dangerously towards the shallow lake and the mossy beach. The last time he was there was a night he wouldn’t soon forget. His stallion recoiled, Klavotesi immediately snapped to attention. He coaxed the stallion to the shore and something told him the Flames were there. He didn’t mean himself and Tiki—that was a long time ago. He felt the others.

He slipped off the horse and continued searching for something to tell him who took them. The sky was a mess of clouds and rain. While it was dark, it wasn’t quite nightfall yet. He had some time before it became too difficult to discern anything against the pitch black night.

He traipsed through the sand in circles, passing the sand dune. He bent down and idly sifted through it, wet sand sticking to his fingers. He sighed; the energy was there, but the Flames weren’t.

He stood, gawking at a few grains of blue sand mixed with the grayish beige flecks stretching towards the water. He doubled back, making careful, deliberate footprints in the sand, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion until he saw the shape of something sticking out of the water. He grimaced and pulled his robes over his ankles, enough to show off his boots as he waded in the shallow water. The item was only a few feet of from the shore, and he picked it up.

The jolt of energy that ran through him almost knocked him over. He stumbled through the water, splashing water on his robes as he desperately tried to make it to the shore. Images took control of his mind; muffled conversations between a blonde woman and another pierced his mind. He fought to see who it was and what they were doing, but an image of the golden puzzle box flashed across his temples and dust rose into the sky. His foot hit the shore as the last image crossed his mind, and this one he couldn’t mistake.

He fell, chills running up his spine. He shook his head, unable to believe what he was seeing. He hastily threw the stone jar away. It skidded across the sand. He ran his hands through his hair and knocked his hood off. He trusted her; he believed in her. She was supposed to be the one who would defeat the Valtanyana for good and bring peace to the Lands Across the Stars. He kept the prophecy locked away in his quarters, spent months deciphering the symbols. He wasn’t going to tell her because she needed to do it on her own. They would come for her, and she would find a way to change it.

He felt sick to his stomach as he forced himself to his feet and grabbed the reins. He pulled the stallion to the cabin and tied it up outside. He went inside and fell on the bed, his robes soaked, his mind ablaze with the staggering revelation.

Kaliel betrayed the Flames.

He shook with regret and fear as he tried to figure out what to do. On Amaltheia he was judge, jury, and executioner. He killed men for lesser crimes than this. He sentenced them to hangings, decapitation, death by Vulture. He was ruthless when it came to the rules and he was never wrong. How she was able to fool him for so long, pretend she was innocent, incapable, naïve. She was a Flame, and she was honorable. She wasn’t destructive, vindictive, self-serving or desperate like this.

He ground his teeth together, prepared to return to Castle Tavesin to do what he had to do. Confront her, ask her why she did it. And then he had to punish her as though she were anyone else.

He opened the door but stopped. His mouth dropped open as he stared at the spaces between the flakes of snow blurred against land, turning it to a white sheet. He closed the door and leaned against it. There was no way he could fight through the storm. No way he’d be able to get back to the castle until it cleared up.

He was trapped.

* * *