“Do you want me to stop?” he whispered and she felt faint as he pressed himself against her harder. She curled her fingers against his hand, the one on her thigh. She wanted to drink him in like he was the crystal clear waters of the lake and drown in him like she had forgotten what it was like to breathe. She didn’t have to say anything as his hand flowed in sync with hers, hitching up the hem of her dress and pressing his warm skin against her bare thigh. He pressed his other hand to her stomach harder and she felt heat spread through her.
“Don’t move,” he whispered. His forehead rested against her shoulder, his breathing ragged as she guided his hand between her legs. He slipped a finger inside her and she moaned, ecstasy trilling through her. Even in the cave he hadn’t ventured to touch her like that, but desperation to escape her nightmares and his came to a climax. She belonged to him, and wasn’t afraid of the things he wanted to do her.
A falcon cawed high above the spruce and redwoods that stretched across Nandaro. Kaliel glanced at the sky; she stood next to Paladin. In her peripheral, Istar took the bags off the horse drawn cart. She heaved a sigh and glanced around. There was a creek darting around The Kiirar’s cabin, which was situated on a mound.
“Ahdunie!” The Kiirar called from somewhere. He spoke in the traditional Avristar tongue, though that word—“Ahdunie”—was from an ancient dialect. Kaliel peered past the horse towards the voice, the lorekeeper approaching from the barn. He wore a long gray robe, and sported shoulder-length grayish white hair. He had blue eyes. She was nervous; he looked strong and wise. More than anything, she was embarrassed she had to be there in the first place. She was old enough to be able to control her abilities; being sent to the Kiirar was like hearing Desaunius’s shameful tone telling her she didn’t retain what she was taught. She turned to Istar.
“Greetings.” Istar waved as Mallorn crossed the creek.
“You must be Kaliel.”
“Aye,” Istar said. He shot her a stern look, but she was more interested in the mud.
“I am Mallorn,” the Kiirar tried. He extended his hand to her, but she kept her eyes downcast in the mud, twisting her toe into it. He pulled his hand back and rubbed it on his robes.
Kaliel thought being taught combat skills was useless; she would fall apart in a strong wind, let alone in battle. Mallorn glared at her, sizing her up, and she saw in his eyes he wasn’t planning on wasting his time. He started back up the mound to the cabin.
Kaliel glanced at Istar’s hard stare. “Please,” she began, her voice cracking. She had no idea how to address such an ancient being. Desaunius forgave all her misgivings because she was only a child, but seventeen summers had passed and she would have to show her respect to Mallorn. She hoped her abilities would stop hurting soon and the foe would be stopped so she could go home. Istar headed back to the cart.
“I need your help,” she called after Mallorn. He didn’t turn back.
“I hope you are prepared to work,” Mallorn called as he entered the cabin.
Kaliel felt her stomach drop. She looked to Istar for comfort, but his expression was hard to read. He hadn’t spoken much on the way there, lost in his own thoughts. She felt like a burden to him, and she couldn’t shake the feeling there was something he wanted to tell her about Krishani.
“Right then. You’ll be fine. Mallorn will help.” He sounded awkward as he mounted the horse, shook his head and turned towards Orlondir.
“Farewell,” she said though he probably didn’t hear her. She turned to the cabin, Mallorn stood in the doorway.
“Three moons, child, we cannot waste time.” There was an edge to his words and she wondered why since she clearly wasn’t tearing him away from prior engagements. His hand rested on the doorjamb until she crossed the creek. He dropped his arm and entered the cabin. “You can begin by bathing the horses,” Mallorn said.
“Pardon me?” Kaliel asked, they had servants for that in Orlondir.
“I keep the horses for this part of Nandaro. They belong to my neighbors. Your first lesson is to bathe them.”
She gulped. She supposed that since he was all alone, he had no one to help him. She stifled a sigh and headed out to the barn.
Hours later, she was soaking wet and her limbs were sore. She dragged the stool and bucket of water over to the last horse and briefly glanced at the name-plate. It read Umber, a name she could appreciate. This horse was unlike the others, grayish white with speckles across the tops of his hind legs. She stepped into the stall and put the stool down in the hay. His tail swished, but he was otherwise concerned with the mulch at his feet. The others had been something of the same, well-tamed and calm. She grabbed the small bucket and poured water over his back. Atara never had her do anything like this in Orlondir; it was always Krishani getting the laborious tasks. She watched water trickle down his backside and hopped off the stool. She’d been taking trips to and from the creek all afternoon.
When she came back, Umber was staring at her with one black eye and she jumped. The bucket swayed in her hands and water lapped up on her knees. She grumbled and stalked towards the stool, trying to ignore the prying eyes of the horse. Merfolk and trees were easy to talk to; she never thought about their voices. Horses and small animals were different. All afternoon none of them said anything to her. It made the idea of Nandaro and Mallorn dreary. She wanted to go back to Orlondir and huddle in her room in the Elmare Castle, wait for Krishani to find her and take off to the waterfall.
She pushed the bucked over Umber’s mane and glanced at his eye, then scanned the hay for a moment, remembering the ordeal with Lotesse. There were more Flames out there; whoever was coming for them would never find Kaliel. Avristar was a stronghold, she was sure of it. Still, she wondered why Mallorn would have her bathe horses if he was trying to help her with her kinship as a Flame.
“Mallorn is a good master. You shouldn’t be so hard on him.”
Kaliel’s heart thumped hard and wild at the melodic hum of the voice in her ears. She wobbled on the stool and fought for balance. Arms flailed, the bucket went flying and she landed in the hay on her back. Umber loomed over her, hooves padding the hay, stepping away from her to give her some room. She rubbed her temples and looked into his eye.
“So you do talk,” she said.
“Why are you mad at Mallorn?”
She hadn’t even realized how angry she was, but she recalled all the grumbling and sloppiness. She sat and pushed her back into the stall. “I’m not mad at him.”
“Then why are you mad?”
She gritted her teeth. She wanted to be angry with Atara and Istar for sending her away from Orlondir. More Atara than Istar though, because the woman acted like she wasn’t her problem now she knew she was a Flame. It seemed like her old mentor wiped her hands clean of her. Even Desaunius hadn’t done that. She visited faithfully every Fire Festival and was always overflowing with wisdom. It was so disheartening to know the greatest elder in Avristar had given little thought to her during her hour of greatest need. She tried to piece together words to explain it to the horse, but nothing seemed to make sense. Her hands twisted in her lap and she pulled her lips into a frown.
“I don’t think you would understand,” she said.
Umber didn’t say anything.
She pushed herself up and grabbed the bucket and crossed the sandy ground to the creek. She bent, scooping up another bucket of water. She tried to go back to barn, but when she turned around her head swelled with vertigo. She closed her eyes and saw brief flashes of light. Wisps of crin red and rosy pink Flames clouded her mind. She knelt on the grass and let the nausea subside. It was like fire ripping through her insides. She let out short breaths trying to steady herself and pushed the images away.
Moments later she coughed and opened her eyes. She stood and entered the barn, but the atrocious smell of manure hit her senses and she reeled back, letting a hand come to her nose. Stifling her disgust, she made it to Umber’s stall, and slopped more water on his back.
“That took a long time,” he said.
She closed her eyes and the flashes of red and pink danced before her. She sucked in a sharp breath and watched as the water dripped onto the hay. “I’m here because something bad happened.”
Umber didn’t say anything, but she kept her gaze fixed on his black eye until he looked away. She sighed. So that was how it would be. She grabbed the stool by one of its three legs and stashed it in the cabinet near the barn’s doors. She’d talk to Mallorn about the horse’s speech; maybe he could explain it to her. As she pushed the barn doors shut she came to a halt. Focus training. She laughed and let her hands fall off the doors. Mallorn was more like Istar than she thought.
She dragged herself up the hill and around to the front of the cabin. She smelled honeysuckle as she passed by the kitchen window and closed her eyes for a moment to take in the scent. She paused at the front door, unsure if she should knock, and when she was about to raise her hand the door swung open. Mallorn was smiling and holding a pot in his hand. Dinner was ready.
“Come, we must take a walk,” Mallorn said after dinner.
Kaliel cringed. “Can’t I rest before our second lesson?”
He laughed as he crossed the living room to the foyer. “Always train when you are at your worst.” He winked at her, grabbed his staff and ducked out of the cabin.
She scrunched up her nose and followed him outside. He was already past the barn, zigzagging through trees, creating a path of his own. She stumbled down the hill and narrowly crossed the creek, her toe splashing in the water as her hands found the ground. She scrambled up and brushed off her dress, then tried to straighten out her hair. Where was he going? The rays of sunlight were dimming and they wouldn’t be able to return before nightfall. She half-wanted to know where he expected her to sleep.
She reached the trees and ran her hand along one of them, feeling a shiver run up her spine. They were all alive out there, just like the ones in Evennses, only their trunks weren’t yards wide and they weren’t all red cedars. Some of them had needles, and some had broad leaves with whitish-colored bark.
She spotted Mallorn ahead of her and rushed to meet him. There were no roots scattered across the ground and she laughed as she almost tripped over her own foot. Typical, she thought as she mused at her clumsiness.
“You’re slow,” Mallorn said. He stopped in his tracks, having found a cluster of trees that grew in a circle. It was a small grouping, the clearing large enough for them to stand opposite one another. She entered the circle and stared at him. His features were hidden by the shadows growing around them.
“It’s late,” she said. Nighttime was her time, the best time she found to speak with the trees.
“I do not sleep much.” Mallorn glanced at the sky, as the last of the sun’s light drifted over the horizon. He smelled the air then took his staff and slammed it against one of the trees, creating a wild cracking sound that echoed across the clearing.
Kaliel jumped and her stomach dove into her chest. “Ouch!” She gaped at him, bewildered. The tree he hit whined in pain. Why would he hit a tree?
“Our first mental lesson. You will—” He stopped short.
“That hurt the tree,” Kaliel mumbled as she ran her hands along her dress.
He frowned. “You can hear the trees?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Atara didn’t tell you?”
Mallorn stuck his staff into the ground and put his hand on his brow. “To be honest,” he began as he twisted his hand around his staff, “nay.”
She slightly smiled to herself, knowing if they hadn’t told him all her secrets, she could probably keep some of them to herself. She closed her eyes and pushed her palm into the tree nearest to her. There were no magic words spoken to emit the words from the tree; she simply opened her heart and felt its words flowing through her.
“Beautiful night,” the tree said.
Mallorn stared at it and her in wonder. “Only the Great Oak ...”
Kaliel shrugged. “They have spoken to me since I was born.” She spread her fingers out on the bark and shared more of her energy, feeling it flow into the earth. She opened her eyes and smiled as a small, violet flower bloomed at the tree’s base. It was too dark for Mallorn to witness it, so she bent down and plucked it from the ground. She held it out to him, twirling it between her fingers.
“And these grow whenever I speak to them. Perhaps you know why?”
Mallorn was nothing like Desaunius or Atara, who cowered or ignored her peculiarity. She learned from Pux early on that anything that made the Elders question themselves should be kept secret—but Mallorn wasn’t an Elder, not technically. He was a Kiirar, a lorekeeper.
Mallorn stumbled back against the tree behind him. He stared at the petals of the violet flower as she spun it around between her fingers. His mouth dropped open. “I suppose you have already surpassed this lesson.”
“Aye.” Kaliel glanced at the dark green grass at her feet.
“Will you show me again?” he asked cautiously. He pushed himself off the tree and cleared his throat.
Kaliel wondered why, but she felt relaxed enough around him and sensed he wasn’t tainted like the others, worried about what her purpose might be. Her intuition told her he only wanted to help. She nodded and closed her eyes, pressing her hand firmly into the bark. She let her energy flow into it as her thoughts drifted back to Krishani. She wanted to show Krishani the flowers before the dream about Lotesse, before everything had to change again. She tried not to let her sadness mix with her contentment as the flower sprouted from the ground. When she opened her eyes she was caught off guard. Around the tree was a dotted line of violet flowers creating a half-moon.
Mallorn gawked at them as she stepped back. She was never boisterous about her gifts; they mostly frightened or shocked those who knew anything about her. He crouched by the tree and ran his fingers along the petals. “Brilliant.” He stood and walked towards the cabin.
Kaliel knew she had surprised him. She trailed along after him, her thoughts a muddle of worry and excitement.
“Aye, our lesson is over,” he said as they wended their way through the trees.
Kaliel’s heart ached as she settled into the sheets and gazed at the small window of the bedroom. It was considerably smaller than both the rooms she had occupied in the past, barely big enough to fit a bed. While there was an end table with three drawers in it, there were no dressers for her to put away her clothes. She stashed her bags in the corner, hoping that not putting her things away meant she would be able to return to Krishani sooner.
She took a shaky breath and let it out. It wasn’t only Krishani that she missed; it was everything hitting her hard, all the sudden changes in her life she’d had to go through over the years. The fact she couldn’t control the dreams, the fear of the unknown foe, the way everyone looked at her—it was no secret Atara was afraid of her. Every lesson they shared together emitted some awkward emotional response from the elder and she fought hard not to confront her about it. Atara was clear she could guide, not give answers.
Kaliel sighed and rolled over onto her side, pulling her knees to her chest. Part of her envied Pux, he wasn’t regarded with half as much scrutiny. She thought back to the days in Evennses when they spent hours running and laughing in the forests, when she escaped at night to swim with the merfolk. Those days were so far away. She wanted to turn back time. She wanted to be able to sit with Desaunius in her little cabin and talk about the Lands of Men. She squeezed her eyes shut as memories of the catacombs came back to her. She used to revel in the endless wonders of the Lands of Men, unsure of when she would be called to service. Instead, she trembled with fear at the words that she would never forget: He comes for us.
She tried to distract herself with images of the waterfall. She imagined Krishani’s gaze on her and the warm feelings that invoked. She pictured his fingers trailing down her back, his lips nipping at her collar bone, her cheeks, and pointy ears. She f
elt the warmth of him surround her, the elation in her heart—then an ache in her chest intensified as reality set in. Three moons felt like forever. She hugged the blanket to her chest and closed her eyes.
The corridor was modern, with thick, elaborately-embroidered rugs, covering the floor. Wainscoting plated the bottom half of the walls, the tops covered in creamy wallpaper dotted with dark red flowers and green leaves. On the walls, candles flickered inside glass bulbs, casting an eerie glow on the mahogany doorframes.
Kaliel stood at one end of the corridor, watching as the tall, shadowy shapes billowed across the floor, smoke rising from the tips of their heavy black boots, the clank of metal sounding as they steadily swept across the carpets. They banged loudly on doors, opening each one in succession, peering in, then moving to the next. They were getting closer and closer to her, but she couldn’t move. She could only stare at their faceless hoods.
A door swung open to her right and another of the shadowy figures emerged. He had a girl with long black hair and a silky pink dress stretched across his arms. Her glass-like face lolled to the side, and Kaliel noticed her rose-colored eyes were still open. They looked pleading and hopeless. She stared at them, unable to remove her gaze, waiting for the faint sound of the girl’s voice in the back of her mind. But it never came. Instead, there was another bang on one of the doors, a flash and sizzle of fire, followed by alarmed screams and deep laughter. One of the shadowy figures removed their hoods to reveal shoulder-length black hair and tattoos scattered across his face. The ink seemed to crawl along his skin like a series of snakes. He punched the doorframe, his fist moving like lightning towards something inside the room. He pulled back and there was a girl, identical to the other, same glass-like face, but crin hair and bright, piercing red eyes. Her arms curled around the doorframe, pulling away. She was clad in a black and red gown, a black corset pulled across her torso. Her eyes shimmered like fire, but she remained still, the sword tip poised at her gut. Her eyes were on the other sister and she went to cry out, but the hand that gripped her throat squeezed harder. Kaliel noticed metal scales covering the shadowy figure’s fingers, skin and bone still visible around the elaborate armor. Quickly, they pulled the girl out into the hallway. She kicked and screamed, but they silenced her and her body went limp. The other shadowy figure followed them, still carrying the other girl, his face a mask of darkness. Kaliel watched until they disappeared. The candles went out, covering her in smoke.
SURRENDER (The Ferryman + The Flame) Page 21
