SURRENDER (The Ferryman + The Flame)

by Rhiannon Paille

  Pux smiled as though he had said something amusing. “Aye!” He looked at Luenelle and nodded, glancing back at Krishani he tipped an imaginary hat to confirm their understanding. He bounded off through the forest, Luenelle and the kinfolk trailing behind him.

  Krishani watched them go and sighed. It wasn’t the same waterfall without Kaliel, seeing the kinfolk playing there made his insides tighten with anger. He doubted Kaliel would have told, but he still wondered.

  He stepped into the cave and continued until the darkness consumed him entirely. He ran through the memories of Kaliel—the times they had met at the waterfall, the kisses they had shared. So much had changed in less than two summers on Avristar. From the moment he saw her, he knew he wouldn’t follow in the footsteps of the Brotherhood of Amersil. A life without a mate was no life for him, married to the land, a servant to the cycle of its life. Even if Kaliel chose to ignore him for a thousand years he would never fall out of love with her. That was something he barely understood, and something that scared him. He loved her, even if it was blind. He couldn’t help himself. He heaved a sigh and opened his eyes only to find darkness. Moonlight illuminated the first few feet, but the rest faded into blackness.

  A rock tumbled down the stony path and Krishani moved into a crouch. He expected to see the feorn again, and planned on having it out with him. He couldn’t control how he felt for Kaliel; the feorn would have to understand. It was the same way the feorn couldn’t help being hairy or smelly.

  A silhouette crossed the mouth of the cave, blocking the falls with its form. Krishani froze, he would recognize her no matter how dark it was. She made it hard to concentrate. She moved into the cave and sat down on the grass, pulling her knees to her chest.

  He waited, but she stayed there, her head buried in her knees. His heart swelled. She hadn’t been to the waterfall since they kissed. He gulped and cautiously inched closer, waiting to hear what she had to say.

  Kaliel’s shoulders shook as she felt the sting of regret. She wanted to apologize to Krishani, tell him she felt something for him so profound that it was unimaginable. She was embarrassed at the depth of her feelings for him. He was just as good at avoiding her as she was of him. It would be easier to believe she was a silly girl that disappointed him. She tilted her chin up and rested it on her knees, staring into the rushing waters of the falls.

  “I probably lost him,” she whispered. “The Great Oak warned me about temptation and I stayed away for as long as I could.” Somehow saying it made her feel better. Luenelle was wrong. Avristar was a utopian paradise. There was almost nothing to fear and she acted like her relationship with Krishani would make the trees rot from the inside out. She smiled and gave a short laugh at how impossible that seemed. Love wouldn’t expire the great garden of life, so why would the tree scare her like that? She giggled and dropped her arms to her sides. She fell backward into the grass and looked at the ceiling of the cave.

  “I wonder if he still thinks about me?” she said, listening to her voice echo off the walls. “I wonder if he hates me.”

  “I could never hate you, Kaliel,” Krishani said from behind her.

  Kaliel gasped, whipped around and moved to her feet with lightning speed. Her hand raked across his cheek with blinding force as she shrieked and jumped away from him. She brought her hands to her mouth as he removed his hood and rubbed the red welt growing on his cheek. “Oh no!” she exclaimed, heat encompassing her body, embarrassment attempting to swallow her whole.

  His eyes searched hers, intense, but in a way that made her melt. She laughed. “Will you ever stop scaring me?”

  He closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against hers. She wound her arms around his neck as his hands graced the small of her back and forced her against him. He led her to the ground and pressed her into the grass, his fingers trailing along her bare skin, his knee filling the space between her legs.

  Breathless, she balled up his tunic in her fists and forced him away. He always moved too fast and she was never quite prepared for it. Being close to him made her feel more alive than ever. “I mean it. Will you stop scaring me?”

  Krishani smirked. “Do you really want this?” He sat and rested his arms on his knees.

  Kaliel narrowed her eyes, her lips twitching into a smile. “Only if you promise not to do that again.”

  “Can I kiss you again if I do?” He inched closer, his gaze knifing into her. He held his hand out and waited for her to take it. “Sorry I scared you.”

  She folded herself into his embrace, pressing her cheek against his cloak, feeling content at the earthiness of his scent. He traced idle patterns on her bare thigh. “Sorry I stayed away for so long.”

  He held her in his arms for a long while. It made her tingle all over. “Why did you come tonight?”

  She recalled the conversation with Luenelle and untangled herself from him. “I was given some advice from an old friend.”

  Krishani frowned. “Who?”

  Kaliel smiled as she remembered home. “The House Master from Evennses. She warned me about where this could lead.” She missed the days Luenelle passed out on the rocking chair in front of the hearth fire to keep her from going to the lake.

  Krishani closed his eyes and ran his hands across them, rubbing them like he was stressed. “Do you ever do what you’re told?”

  Kaliel shrugged. “Not usually.”

  “And so you never wanted to avoid me?” His face flushed with concern and insecurity.

  Kaliel took in a deep breath, the embarrassing truth circling around her lips. She sighed. There were so many ways to say it, but nothing that would make it sound less humiliating. “When I went on my journey to the Great Oak, I had a plan to sneak into Amersil to find you.” She blushed as his expression softened. He laced his fingers through hers and shook his head.

  “I was here by then,” he muttered.

  “Oh.” Silence hung between them.

  “I made a bolt of lightning strike down a three-thousand-year-old-tree in Amersil, because in the middle of a meditation I thought about your green eyes.” A sheepish smile crept onto his face.

  Her eyes widened. “Three thousand years?”

  “All because of your green eyes.” He pressed his lips against hers. He leaned back and she followed his lips, straddling him, pressing her hips into his groin, bracing herself on his shoulders.

  “All I want is this, this and nothing else. Ever.”

  Krishani grunted in agreement as her mouth came down on his.

  Istar impatiently tapped his foot on the cobblestone. It was already well past dawn, the skies above the courtyard a tangle of orange and pale yellow intermingled with light blue. Stars twinkled in the east, their white speckles melting away in the blue. He was irritated by the fact Krishani seemed to wake later and later each morning. Sometimes he wouldn’t emerge from his room until Melianna had called him four, sometimes five, times. He couldn’t tell what his apprentice was doing; he filled his schedule adequately with a mixture of chores and exercises Krishani could do on his own. The boy should have been progressing, especially now that he didn’t have the Brothers to distract him. The Elmare Castle was empty except for Atara’s apprentice and his daughters. Atara kept a close watch on the girl and when she wasn’t seen in the castle, she was in the orchards. She never talked to anyone, but Atara said she could talk to the trees and the merfolk.

  He pulled his arms into the sleeves of his beige cloak just as Krishani stumbled underneath the archway, still tying the laces to his shin-high boots. His hair was disheveled and there were faint shadows under his eyes. His belt was also crooked and his tunic was twisted to one side. As he hopped along the stone he managed to pull it all together, stood upright and smoothed out his garments.

  “Apologies, Elder,” he said as he passed one of the crystal statues and joined Istar on the sidewalk.

  Istar didn’t say anything; he turned around and briskly led the way towards the moat and the orchards.
There was nothing he could say that he hadn’t said to the boy before, from the way Krishani held himself to the way he tried hard and still managed to fail. Istar thought he had started slow with Krishani, taking training techniques from earlier summers and building up to the bigger things. It was no use though. Krishani reached a threshold and plateaued, always stopping himself before he let go of control. It was maddening and Istar planned to break that pattern.

  They crossed the bridge and Istar quickened his pace down the wide dirt road that led south to Evennses. On the right were the orchards and on the left the hedges, perfectly cut so they were straight and square with turrets rising from them every few feet. Krishani shuffled along behind him. Istar frowned.

  “Where are we going?” Krishani asked once they had passed the orchards and were headed into taller trees and thicker underbrush. This was where the villages of Orlondir branched off from. Istar could smell the hearth fires in the air and hear the sounds of small animals as they flitted through the breaks in the trees. It was usually the villagers that provided food for the Elmare castle, not that they needed much of it except during the Fire Festivals. Lord Istar and Lady Atara barely ever ate to begin with; being sovereigns of the land removed them from trivial things like that. Food had nothing to do with their essence; their sparks would last so long as Avristar was alive and well.

  “Hawklin,” Istar said. He looked over his shoulder, but didn’t stop walking. “It’s one of the villages.”

  “Why are we going there?” Krishani asked. He shyly smiled as Istar narrowed his eyes and turned his attention back to the path.

  “Hawklin is eldered by Falnir. He was injured in the Lands of Men years ago and came back to Avristar. He was a former champion of our land. What happened to him was unfortunate, but it doesn’t stop him from teaching others what he knows.” The point wasn’t really who Falnir was; he didn’t spar anymore, but he eldered one of the villages where inhabitants of Avristar were allowed to raise their own families. They weren’t subjected to the same tradition as the Children of Avristar. Still, Istar always hoped that strong ambassadors came from the villages. The more presence Avristar had in the Lands of Men the better chances of success they would have for bringing them peace.

  He grimaced as he thought about his last conversation with the Gatekeeper, the voice of Avristar herself. On the north side of the mountain there was a steep incline and after hours of climbing Istar had reached the summit. There was nothing up there but a circle of large flat rocks that surrounded a pile of ashes. Tall evergreens shrouded the entire summit in shadows, nothing but the crystal clear night sky above. He had rubbed his hands together and sparked a fire, which was immediately a twist of white and blue. The voice of the Gatekeeper emerged from the fire, speaking on behalf of Avristar herself. Istar thought that with the pressing threat of the Valtanyana’s return she would call the armies back to Avristar. Instead, she acted as though he was an insolent fool for believing in nothing but hearsay. He tried to plead with her, but she was firm and wouldn’t allow the armies to return without due cause. Besides she was powerful on her own. The Valtanyana had been defeated, there couldn’t be much of their armies left. Istar was vexed by Avristar’s recklessness, but if she didn’t believe there was a threat to overcome then he couldn’t persuade her any further.

  As he walked with Krishani, the boy had become silent behind him, no doubt processing what Istar had told him about Falnir. He didn’t want to tell Krishani what they’d be walking into. Falnir was known for having tournaments between the children during this time of year, and they went on for weeks. It provided some entertainment for the villagers as life being so peaceful was sometimes tedious.

  He neared the thin path into the village, the one that was barely wide enough for a horse and cart, and turned down it, leading Krishani through the squishy black mud. His boots pounded across it evenly, the bottom of his cloak becoming soaked with dirt and leftovers of the morning’s dew. It didn’t take long to reach the village and there was already a crowd conglomerating around the hearth fire. Taller feorns were twisting wooden swords in their hands.

  “What’s going on?” Krishani asked. Istar went to move through the crowds, but Krishani dug his heels into the mud and crossed his arms. He had alarm in his blue and green eyes, his pale skin looking more sallow now that he was near the crowds.

  Istar smirked at him. “Come, now, I told them they would get an audience with a member of the Brotherhood of Amersil.” He turned back to the crowd, but the boy didn’t move.

  “Why would you tell them that?” Krishani asked, his voice being swallowed up by sounds of the crowd.

  Istar knew what the villagers thought of the Brothers from Amersil: they were all regarded with respect because they were Avristar’s best and finest children, meant for greatness. He had been searching for a way to motivate Krishani, to show him what he would become in the Lands of Men, how he would be respected. He had no plans of making Krishani fall into the ranks; he wanted the boy to lead an army. He wanted Krishani to be a King’s General, help him succeed in securing lands and ruling his people. If the boy was patient, if he could surrender his reservations he could force triumph. Istar wasn’t a fool to what Krishani’s parable meant, but apparently the boy himself was.

  Krishani shook his head and his expression turned livid. “You really think I’m anything like the Brothers?” He spat on the ground, and pulled his arms tighter across his chest.

  Istar laughed, trying to keep the mood light. “You won’t be beat.” He went to push through the crowd again as Krishani dropped his arms.

  “That isn’t what I’m worried about,” Krishani said as he reluctantly followed Istar through the villagers. It took only minutes to get through the crowd, Istar leading the way. He broke into the center of the village, with a series of two-story cabins surrounding the large stone encampment that created the hearth. The cabins all had triangle roofs and deep mahogany beams crisscrossed across the fronts to secure them. The craftsmanship was merely for aesthetics, but masterfully executed. Istar thought he could smell the faint scent of roasted hazelnuts, a common snack food. He glanced back at the villagers, then turned back to the hearth and caught sight of Falnir. His scraggly brown hair was speckled with gray and fell to his shoulders. He hunched forward, heavily leaning on one side of his body. He was a feorn, but was disfigured. Falnir stood near the porch of the mess hall. The villagers all ate dinner together. None of the other cabins had a kitchen. It was easier to have one per village and for everyone to sup together. Istar noticed that Falnir was looking past him at Krishani. He paused and turned to see Krishani’s presence causing gasps to emit from the crowd.

  “Is this him?” Falnir asked, nodding towards Krishani.

  “Aye, I think he’ll be quite the match for your boy,” Istar said casually. He neared Falnir and firmly shook hands with him. Falnir smelled of tainted water and small game. It wasn’t a pleasant combination.

  “Wraynas is ready for him. I trained him myself,” Falnir said. He gestured to a tall feorn inspecting his wooden sword bent over near the hearth fire.

  Istar sized him up. “Very well, a fair fight. Is he your champion?”

  “He’s won every tournament for the past three summers.”

  Istar turned to Krishani, who looked ready to throw up. “Are you ready to test your skills in a crowd?”

  “No,” Krishani said, his eyes still blazing like he was going to cause Istar to catch fire.

  Istar lowered his gaze and pulled Krishani towards him so their foreheads touched. “I will always do what I must to challenge you. You cannot forfeit the match.” He pulled away and turned to Falnir. “Plus nobody is really keeping score with this match,” he added diplomatically, as though he had every confidence that Krishani would win.

  Falnir laughed, a hint of nervousness lacing his chuckle. “Right, nothing to be worried about.”

  At that Istar held out his hand and waited while Krishani handed him his cloak and tig
htened his belt around his waist. Falnir passed the wooden sword to Istar, who then handed it to Krishani. It was lightweight; carved from the branch of a maple tree. Krishani swung it around in his right arm, getting a feel for it. He switched back and forth between his left and right hands, seeing which he preferred. Istar watched him with a scowl as Falnir limped into the middle of the village and neared the hearth fire. He whispered something to Wraynas and then pulled back, motioning for Krishani to approach.

  Istar watched as Krishani moved forward with a mask of stone on his face. He didn’t feel guilty for the boy; he would face worse things in the Lands of Men, this was good practice for him. He shifted to the left to get a better view of the battle, and when he could see Krishani and Wraynas directly across from one another, he stopped.

  Falnir moved to the other side of the hearth. “People of Hawklin! I would like to welcome Krishani of Amersil to our village.” The people cheered and Falnir waited for it to die down.

  Istar smirked; this would show Krishani to use his focus. It seemed an extreme way to force it, but he didn’t know what else to do. Krishani was too lost in his daydreams to really pay attention.

  “Lord Istar of Avristar has called a match between our finest warrior and his. I present to you Wraynas, winner of the Beltane Tournament!” The crowd went wild for Wraynas. Istar nodded to himself as he mentally sized up Krishani’s opponent. This would be a good match.

  Falnir didn’t waste time. He called the match seconds later and limped away from hearth, keeping his eyes on the boys as they circled each other.

  Wraynas was the first to land a blow to Krishani with the wooden sword. It tapped his shoulder and Krishani briefly fell to one knee. He scraped the ground and rubbed his fingers together, then was back on his feet, twisting around and avoiding the very forward advances that Wraynas made towards him. Eventually, Krishani’s wooden sword met with Wraynas’s and they moved across the dirt in a pattern of blows, each of them defending themselves with skill. Their sparring didn’t get interesting until Wraynas shoved Krishani with his free hand and Krishani fell onto his back. Wraynas was on him in an instant, ready to end the match, but Krishani sprang to his feet, his expression colder, harder.