Istar was curious as to what he was doing. He wasn’t striking Wraynas back; he was only defending himself and not letting go. He seemed focused, but he wasn’t doing what Istar wanted him to do. He turned his eyes away from the sparring match for only a second and that was all it took.
Krishani didn’t even touch Wraynas, but there was a loud crack followed by a rumbling under their feet. The sky darkened with clouds and Wraynas flew onto his back and coughed, blood pouring from his mouth and staining his vest and breeches. Krishani knelt in a ceremonial position, the tip of his wooden sword pointed to the ground. It smoked at the hilt. Krishani panted as the crowd screamed in horror. Istar rushed to his apprentice. He needed to reach Krishani before the villagers realized what happened and attacked his pupil. He briefly glanced at Wraynas, who was passed out unconscious at the edge of the crowd. There was a group of younger maidens fawning all over him, not knowing what to do. Istar placed a hand on Krishani’s shoulder and the boy looked at him, his cheeks stained with tears.
“What was that?” Istar spat.
Krishani’s expression turned from sad to cold again. He shrugged off Istar’s hand and stood, throwing the sword on the ground like it was a deadly weapon. “I hurt him, didn’t I?”
“You ...” Istar’s gaze moved towards the crowd around Wraynas. Falnir had managed to reach him now and was parting the girls and kneeling at his side. “But why would you?”
Krishani looked down at his hands. They were red, but he wasn’t harmed in any way. “I didn’t mean to. I just let go.”
Istar had never actually witnessed what happened when Krishani let go, and he felt punched in the stomach at having to see it there, in a group of villagers. He took Krishani by the elbow and began leading him towards the thin path back to the Elmare Castle. The clouds were darkening overhead and large droplets of water were beginning to splash onto the dirt.
Before Istar could pull Krishani through the crowd, Falnir glanced up and caught them fleeing. “Your boy is dangerous!” he shouted, clearly upset.
Istar glared at Krishani. “I’ll send Hernadette to help Wraynas.” He tried to be diplomatic, but he knew it was no use. Krishani had harmed their champion, and what was supposed to be a fun sparring match had almost turned into bloodshed.
Falnir nodded. “It is no fault of yours, my lord.”
Istar only nodded, then pushed Krishani through the crowd and into the forests. He didn’t say a word as he led the boy back to the Elmare castle, but he was afraid—afraid of what Krishani was and what he could do.
Kaliel carefully pushed the door shut, heard a soft click, and slid under the covers the way she had done so many nights before. Melianna would be around soon to wake her, or it would be the silent lady, whose name she didn’t know yet.
She stretched and smiled to herself as she tried to grab a few moments of sleep. She settled into the pillows and began to drift off as she heard the familiar shuffling down the hallway. Soon there was a light tap on the door. She sighed. There were times when Krishani’s body wasn’t quite as comfortable as the sheets, and she wouldn’t dare sneak a chance to spend the night with him in her wing of the castle.
She sat and yawned, stretching her arms out, feigning she had woken up from a fabulous dream. She slid on the slippers she had abandoned moments ago and shuffled across the floor. She opened the door and turned back towards the bureau to find a hair brush.
“Good morrow.” Melianna poured into the room and stared at her attire. Kaliel wore a simple light blue nightgown and muddy slippers.
“Good morrow,” she replied as she brushed out the knots in her hair. She looked at her green eyes in the mirror, and then looked past them to where Melianna stood behind her. The woman was expressionless as always. “What task awaits me today?” She was trying to be cheery, but in the past few moons Lady Atara had spent all her time testing her.
“I was asked to fetch you and show you how to make tea.”
Kaliel groaned. She scrunched up her nose and worked out another painful knot in her long white hair. “Can we focus on something else?”
Melianna twisted her lips up in a smile, the first time she had ever seemed amused around Kaliel. “Atara mentioned you could try focus training.”
Kaliel smiled, too; it was amusing. Both she and Melianna had witnessed Krishani in the kitchen, slaving away at a hundred pounds of potatoes during the last fire festival. Lady Atara had never been as strict as Lord Istar, but Kaliel had evaded the task of tea since she came to Orlondir over a year ago. She had seen sixteen summers, the coming of which she would look forward to spending with Krishani.
She put down the brush and turned to Melianna. “What kind of tea?”
Melianna corrected her posture and the smile faded from her lips. “Sarsaparilla.” She didn’t give Kaliel time to answer; she took towards the servants’ quarters, checking every few seconds to be sure Kaliel had followed.
The only time Kaliel had heard of sarsaparilla was when Desaunius made reference to a flesh-eating disease that afflicted humans. She shuddered. Desaunius never made that tea because it was too dangerous, and they held to the belief that whatever would cure the ailment would also poison one without it.
Her breathing became heavy as she followed Melianna down the corridor. She had no words for the woman as they entered the servants’ hallway and headed towards the stairs that led to the kitchen.
It was a large room; in the center was a vast wooden island, with pots hanging from a rack attached to the ceiling. Cupboards and counters lined the walls to either side, and in the corner on the far left was a collection of burlap sacks. They were labeled in the native tongue of Avristar indicating different herbs, spices and cooking ingredients. Melianna wasted no time. She took out a pot, filled it up in the basin of fresh spring water, and hung it overtop the fire pit on the opposite end of the room. It was enclosed in stone, though most of the innards had been blackened by fire. Melianna took the flint stone and struck it, lighting the bed of hay and coals until a strong flame snaked through the pit.
Kaliel felt seasick as she glanced around the room, trying to wrack her brain for the knowledge it would take to be successful. She drew a blank; she didn’t even know what Sarsaparilla looked like. She gulped. “I, I don’t know how ...”
Melianna let out a haughty breath and Kaliel pressed her lips together. Apparently Melianna didn’t know how inept she was in the kitchen. She furrowed her brow. “Lady Atara asked me to show you how to make tea. I suppose that also meant you would be observing.”
Kaliel looked at the floor, she felt so useless. Melianna didn’t pay attention to her; she went to find the herbs to prepare the tea. Kaliel shifted her weight back and forth as she stared at the pot over the flames.
Beautiful, she thought as she watched the fire licking around the edges of the bits of coal.
“Sarsaparilla.” Melianna slapped it down on the wooden table and began to skillfully cut the herb into pieces. She separated the root from the plant and discarded the leaves and stem. Melianna lined up a number of other herbs, of which Kaliel only recognized jasmine. She mixed them together on the cutting board and continued chopping until they were finely diced. Kaliel noticed the water was already boiling. Melianna took a towel and removed the pot from the fire pit. In one motion she put the pot down and dumped the herbal concoction into it. Most of the herbs dissolved in the water as she stirred and what didn’t dissolve she let steep.
“Sarsaparilla root carries the healing properties needed. The rest is garbage. Will cure the nastiest of ailments,” Melianna said. She lifted the spoon to her nose to smell the brew, but she didn’t taste it. She frowned at first and then relaxed, looking satisfied. “Smell.”
Kaliel leaned forward as Melianna held out the spoon to her. She smelled the brew; it had a strong musky scent. She nodded even though she had never made the tea before. “What were the other herbs you put in the tea?”
Melianna sighed as she continued to stir the liquid
. “Lemongrass, lavender, rosemary, sassafras, and jasmine.”
Kaliel nodded. She wasn’t sure what to say. She wanted Melianna to explain to her what the tea would do. Desaunius was always known for her back stories, but Melianna just stood there, tapping her foot on the ground. Something was making her nervous.
“Have I done something wrong?” Kaliel asked.
Melianna shook her head. “Nay.” Then Kaliel noticed her in even more distress. “My father hasn’t returned from the Lands of Men, and he won’t. This tea would cure him, but Avristar won’t allow me to go to him.”
Kaliel couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be infected with such a disease. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Melianna waved her hand in dismissal. “His ailment isn’t severe,” she assured. She took the pot away from Kaliel and dumped it into the waste trough. Not even the animals would eat of that.
“Leprosy.” Kaliel recalled the name Desaunius had given for that disease.
Melianna went rigid. She turned slowly from the trough and stared at her. “How did you know?”
“Desaunius told me once.”
Atara sat on a bench in front of a stone table against the west side of the castle. Strewn across the table was a checkered board and pieces from a game she was fond of. It was something the adepts had brought her from the Lands of Men. She had a cup of tea sitting beside it; she took it in her hands and sipped. Footsteps shuffled from around the corner and she sat straighter as Kaliel came into view, the traditional ivory maiden’s gown hanging to her knees. She always had that shy look on her face like she wasn’t sure she was in the right place, but Atara waved it off.
“I see Melianna gave you my message,” she said.
Kaliel ran her hands along her dress. “Yes, she said you needed to speak to me about something?”
Atara nodded and motioned for her to sit at the other side of the table. She took a seat. She was much too short for the table, it seemed to swallow her up. She briefly glanced at Atara then swung her legs underneath her and perched on her knees so she was at eye level with her elder.
“I wanted to talk to you about the Lands of Men,” Atara began. Kaliel turned whiter and Atara barreled on. “There is a lot of danger ...” She wasn’t sure how to explain that she didn’t think Kaliel would survive very easily in the Lands of Men unless she became stronger in her training, or without finding a better vocation. Atara had led her through various meditative and metaphysical exercises, had taught her lightly on the healing arts, both herbal and physical. She hadn’t been able to count how many times Melianna had been used as a patient for Kaliel to practice on when it came to bandages and splinters. Still, Kaliel wasn’t showing any formidable area of skill and it frustrated her that the girl seemed so normal. She almost thought she had been too hasty in calling her a Flame at all. It was as though even the Great Oak was wrong about her.
“I know,” Kaliel said, interrupting her train of thought.
Atara looked up to see her curling her hair behind her ears. She clasped her hands together and buried them in her lap as she kept her eyes on the board-game. Atara moved forward and absentmindedly began setting up the pieces on either side of the board. “I think you need a lot more training before you go to the Lands of Men that’s all.”
“Oh,” Kaliel said.
Atara smiled then nodded at the board. “Have you played before?”
Kaliel shook her head. “We had other games in Evennses.”
“This one is rather easy.” She explained the simple rules of the game, how each piece had its own purposes and how they moved around on the board. They began playing and it was clear Kaliel was a beginner. After a few turns back and forth Atara looked at her. “You see how each of these pieces has its place and they all work together for a common goal?”
Kaliel nodded.
“Well, that’s where you don’t fit. You seem to have very broad skills, but nothing that you’ve mastered.”
The girl averted her gaze. Atara thought about the merfolk and the way Kaliel could speak with them. It wasn’t something other apprentices could do. The elder herself stayed away from the banks of the lake and the pond, knowing that only Istar had a way with convincing the merfolk to stay peaceful and, stay underwater. Istar said they were brash and wild, unwilling to listen to the tenets of Avristar. It was one of the only things different about Kaliel.
“I understand,” Kaliel said quietly.
Atara moved another piece across the board and gracefully moved one of Kaliel’s pieces out of the way. “What I mean to ask you, Kaliel, is if you know what the parable means?”
“It means I won’t win,” she said. Atara continued to stare at her, a blank expression on her face. She nodded for Kaliel to continue. “It doesn’t matter what I do, something will be lost.”
Atara swallowed hard as Kaliel slid another piece across the board and made it vulnerable. She frowned as she responded by moving one of her pieces to take the piece on the board. “There should be something else to it. Your part in it?”
Kaliel knocked over one of the pieces as her hand trembled. She stood it back up and pushed it onto one of the squares. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t have that much longer to figure it out. What do you feel you are? A healer? A seer? I need to know what you think.” She moved another of her pieces across the board to end the game. She knocked over Kaliel’s last piece and waited for her to respond.
The girl pressed her palms against the edge of the stone table and went to stand. “I’m a failure,” she whispered as she balled up her fists and stalked away from the courtyard.
Atara sat stunned as she watched the girl go. She didn’t know how to help her anymore.
Kaliel sat in the cave, waiting for Krishani to arrive from his lesson. She idly watched the falls as she waited, letting the failure from earlier that day fade away. She would have thought longer on it, but there was a loud noise from outside of the cave and she jumped, startled. She had that feeling of anticipation as Krishani came into the cave and fell into the grass beside her, bereft of his cloak and clad in a beige tunic and black breeches. He buried his face in the circle of his arms and moaned.
Kaliel turned and rubbed his back. It had been like this for moons. He had been forced into intense physical or mental labor and Istar had been relentless.
“I loathe Istar,” he mumbled into the grass. He pushed himself onto his elbows and glanced at her.
She stared at him with a spurious look. “Making apples float?” she assumed, but she stifled a laugh. Istar was boisterous with his tasks, and they often involved what she thought was impossible.
“No, sparring in Hawklin,” he grumbled, burying his face in his hands. She could tell he didn’t want to relive the experience. There was a reason he avoided the sparring matches at the Fire Festivals, and he seemed more upset than usual. “Everything hurts.” He groaned, and pulled off his tunic. She tried not to react to his nakedness. He turned and leaned forward, and she carefully ran her fingers along the muscles in his back, smoothing them out and relaxing them. She shifted on the grass so she was behind him. Her hands flowed over his shoulders and pressed against his chest. He smiled and pulled her hand to his lips. “You taste funny,” he whispered against her skin.
Kaliel frowned. “Sarsaparilla,” she said, shaking her head. Krishani kept her hand in his and she pushed her cheek into his shoulder. She sighed. “It cures leprosy.”
“Death,” he said. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out.
Kaliel pulled away. “You shouldn’t say that.”
Krishani sighed. “It’s not what you think.”
She sat next to him, and pulled his arm away from his knees, entwining her fingers through his. “I know.” He looked up, his mismatched eyes full of worry and regret. “Will you tell me about the nightmares yet?”
He shook his head and glanced at the waterfall. She felt elated by the slow pulse of electricity running through her at the feel of
his skin on hers, but there was fear. After a long time he looked at her, smirking. “I promised I wouldn’t scare you again.”
Kaliel scoffed, her eyes narrowing, her lips pushed together to stifle a sad giggle. She knew he was only trying to protect her, but what he went through with Istar and all his nightmares made her afraid for him. There were some places she couldn’t follow him.
“I wish they would go away,” she said.
“Me, too.”
She glanced at him, knowing he was trying to push the memory of the nightmares out of his mind. When he was with her she didn’t want him to care about Istar’s trials or his sleepless nights. There was only her, and the way she made him feel.
He leaned against the cave wall. “Istar is pressuring me to learn more about my parable.”
She averted her eyes from his and pulled away. “Will you tell me what it is?” she whispered, feeling inadequate and insecure. He had been so tight-lipped about his parable, she worried it was bad.
Krishani stood and moved to the waterfall. He closed his eyes and let the words spill into the mist. “An apple tree knows not when the apple of its eye will fall, and must surrender its possession. Wither in desolate loneliness and bring the forests to their eternal slumber. Triumph in faithful patience and bring the forests to their endless summer.” His vacant eyes stared ahead at the falls. Kaliel wrapped her arms around him. She pressed her cheek into his back. He turned and let his arms fall around her.
“That tree will tear us apart,” she squeaked, unable to hide her fear. Everything about the Great Oak made her loathe it.
“I won’t surrender,” Krishani whispered against her hair.
She nodded and clutched him tighter.
“Besides, I’ve been called to Amersil.”
SURRENDER (The Ferryman + The Flame) Page 16
