SURRENDER (The Ferryman + The Flame)

by Rhiannon Paille

  She was still conscious, but she didn’t want to be.

  She couldn’t speak, couldn’t scream, couldn’t dance or swim or kiss or hold or feel. The Amethyst Flame was a weapon. Unleashed she could possess, burn, compress, engulf, explode.

  The only thing that kept her from becoming Crestaos’s pawn was the way Krishani looked at her. She wanted to be a girl because of him. She was strong enough to fight against the Valtanyana because of him.

  She never thought she would have to destroy herself to escape.

  The lava quickened into the hollow tunnel and she felt the increasing surge. What she was now was much more powerful than what she had been in the body of a girl. She was the lava, she was the rock, she was the Flame.

  The only thing she wasn’t was the only thing she ever wanted to be.

  His.

  Hooves pounded the ground as Krishani raced across Orlondir. Umber faltered under him as he traveled over the rolling hills. Everyone was dying around him, and he knew he should have turned back to help, but there was nothing if Kaliel wasn’t safe.

  He deeply regretted ever leaving her side. He should have fled to the village with her. He should have stayed with her like he wanted to. He should have been there to fight off the foe that stalked her. Had she faced him yet? He closed his eyes. It wasn’t too late, he tried to convince himself. Not yet.

  He whipped the reins, trying to steady the horse, but Umber’s frustrated panting got louder. Krishani spotted a gaping hole between the trees in the distance. He steered Umber towards the break, knowing Kaliel was there ...somewhere. He could feel her lack of hope. It was as though she knew she would lose.

  Someone pulled up beside him on the right, riding with force and agility. The white horse flew alongside him, matching his speed. He caught a flash of the royal cloak that flapped in the wind like a kite. It was Lord Istar. He glanced at him briefly. Paladin charged forward, threatening to overtake him.

  Krishani narrowed his eyes and kicked Umber hard, begging the horse to move faster. His worst fears had been realized. The foe would find Kaliel. He would take her. He couldn’t let that happen. If it wasn’t for the rush of adrenaline, the battle and the determination in his heart, he would have collapsed long ago. He pushed away the feelings of dread that gathered in his stomach and pooled in his heart as he broke through the trees. He gritted his teeth as he pushed Umber along the wide path. The horse stumbled as he galloped. Umber expertly jumped over a log but slowed down right after and tried to find his footing.

  As Krishani whipped the reins in desperation, Istar flew past him and stopped, blocking the way.

  “You cannot take this path!” Istar shouted.

  “Kaliel needs me!” Krishani screamed as Umber slowed to a stop. He pulled on the reins and tried to pass him, but Paladin was too quick. The stallion raised its front legs and punched at the air. Umber copied Paladin, their hooves threatening to collide. Umber let out a startled neigh as he fell on all fours again, out of breath.

  “You cannot go to her!” Istar said. He glared at Krishani and the boy knew what he meant. He wanted Krishani to go to the Lands of Men and forget her. Istar’s eyes shifted across the forest, but it was quiet around them. The battle cries from Orlondir could barely be heard in the distance.

  “The Valtanyana will take her,” Krishani said. He seriously needed to be with her, to see her amethyst-filled eyes and snow-white hair. He needed to stop the foe. He knew she was in distress, jolts of pain racing through her body as the foe neared her, threatened her, hunted her.

  “She is not your concern.”

  “She’s ...” All his strength and anger faded away. “Please ...”

  There was nothing his elder could say that would make him turn away from the mountain. If the Valtanyana reached her, if they took her, he would never forgive himself.

  “You will be reunited when the danger is passed,” Istar said quietly.

  “No ...I won’t,” Krishani said. He didn’t care about Istar’s oaths; he was already the enemy. He pushed himself up. The adrenaline had worn off, but his determination had been restored with a sorrow he never thought he would have to face. He yanked on the reins and snapped them against the horse’s hide forcing mber to attention. The horse tried to push against Paladin, but Istar stared him down and instead Umber yelped and rose into the air, throwing Krishani from his back.

  The sound of his body hitting the ground echoed through his bones, then a deafening explosion shook every fiber of his being. Molten rock and lava shot into the sky as Krishani got to his knees and watched, dumbfounded.

  Then he understood.

  “Kaliel!” he howled. He hunched over, the force of her death hitting him like a battering ram. Without warning, he slipped into the blackness, his will giving way to the pain that engulfed his body.

  Surrender. His thoughts blinded him as he let the darkness take him deeper into the abyss.

  It felt like time stopped as the mountain exploded. Istar watched with disbelief as the sky filled with a dark cloud of smoke and ash. The sound echoed throughout Avristar as the mountain took its vengeance.

  Avred, he thought with fear and confusion. He turned to Krishani, who was unconscious on the ground. Panic engulfed him as he thought of nothing but survival. Kaliel was dead and Krishani was slipping away from the land. He slid off Paladin and rushed to the boy’s side. He grabbed Krishani and threw him over the horse. He mounted and kicked Paladin into action. They sped through the forests with precision, dodging fallen trees and branches as the path behind them disappeared in the aftermath of the explosion.

  They broke through the trees and slowed to a trot. Snowflakes trickled to the ground like tiny white flags. Dawn seeped over the horizon, but a black storm cloud hung above the land. Paladin shivered as the explosion dissipated. Istar pushed the horse to a trot and hooves crunched across the snow.

  Shock rippled through Istar as the battlefield came into view. The enemies were gone. The field was a cemetery. Atara knelt, her face buried in her hands, weeping for the loss of the kinfolk. A thousand thoughts clouded his mind as he neared Atara, but one rose above the others.

  Krishani destroyed Avristar.

  They came and went, came and went, from her little glassy chamber. Kaliel watched them, the people in the silvery white coats, their tawny hair caught in buns or shaved close the nape of their necks. They didn’t know she could see them, feel them, hear them

  They didn’t know

  She felt heavy, her limbs like boulders, her head a dead weight. She had been lying on the linoleum floor for what seemed like forever, the faint glow of crystals creating an artificial light above her. It brightened and dimmed, casting a pale rosy glow over everything

  The sound of feet shuffling made her aware. Her amethyst enflamed eyes shot open and caught the ceiling. One of them loomed into her peripheral vision, their face a blurry mask of shapes and colors blending together. She simpered trying to make them understand, trying to make them stop but they didn’t. Something clamped over her arm and it was followed by a slight pinch as a needle slid into her skin. Her stomach heaved involuntarily as they depressed the plunger. Her vision went blurry, her chest crushed, and everything moved in clockwise circles. She trembled involuntarily and tried to scream but she had no voice. Tears escaped the corners of her eyes and slid down her temples, getting lost in her thick white curls of hair.

  They left the room, the glass door sliding shut and plunged her into the nothingness again. The eerie glowing light, the deadness of her heavy muscles, vertigo taking over her every sense, she couldn’t fight it if she tried. All she remembered was his white lightning eyes. Her elder Mallorn on Avristar called him Crestaos, one of the dangerous members of the Valtanyana. His eyes crackled like electrical storms before he drew her into his arms, his bony hands wrapping around her soft flesh like metal shackles. He floated through the forests, past the cabin on the mound belonging to Mallorn. He reached the wooden boats at the edge of the island an
d dumped her unceremoniously into one of them. They glided away from the shores of her home without a whisper. She tried to cry out, she tried to fight, she tried to escape. She tried to alert the merfolk, but they had long since left the shores of Avristar. Nobody came to her rescue, not even the boy she loved, Krishani of Amersil.

  Her heart felt like shattered glass when it came to him. It ached in a succession of beats, forever poisoning her limbs with drought. Her mouth like parchment, her shoulders cold, her heart on fire. The flame inside of her retreated to some unknown place and her eyes became their usual shining emerald.

  She went for one last attempt at escape and that was when his bony hand wrapped itself around her forearm, the white lightning crackling as Crestaos’s eyes bore into hers. All it took was one more look at him, and Kaliel felt darkness wrap around her like a carpet being pulled out from underneath her. Her strength crashed as she descended into an abyss, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to do anything to rescue herself.

  She woke up in the glass chamber, and for days and weeks and maybe moons, she laid there, spread eagle on the floor in her ivory maiden’s gown. She spent the better part of her entrapment thinking about Krishani. Was he dead? Was he captured? Did the Daed kill him the way she had seen in her vision? Was he looking for her? Did he leave Avristar? Did the elders force him to the ugly fate of being the Ferryman? Was she ever going to see him again?

  The questions went unanswered. Her lips were like rubber, she babbled like an infant when attempting to form coherent sentences, her words slurring together, her lips betraying her. She whimpered and gasped, growled and guffawed but nothing changed the way they treated her. They poked and prodded her until she was bruised and sometimes bloody and then they left.

  Injections were the worst. They burned from the inside out forcing an internal struggle in her paralytic state. She couldn’t do anything but let the pain run its course, let it burn out to her extremities until she passed out. Longing for Krishani was trumped by the idea of hanging onto consciousness long enough to fight whatever it was they were doing to her.

  Kaliel waited for the injection to take effect. She waited, her thoughts swirling, her mind braying for mercy. And then the glass door slid open again and the stench of him hit her nostrils. She didn’t need to think about it anymore, he smelled like the burnt tips of fabric combined with the hint of lavender. She thought it was disgusting.

  “Little Flame,” he breathed.

  She had heard that voice before, in her mind when she was begging him to stop. He wouldn’t stop until she belonged to him. She felt like she had been thrown into the lake in the middle of winter, water stinging her skin as his footsteps paced around her. She felt him kneel at the crown of her head. His hand pressed into her shoulder and shocks ran through her body forcing her to seize involuntarily. Kaliel tasted foam in her mouth as she shook with violent force, the electricity running through her like a wild current. She heard something pop and his hand released her. She slumped, an ache mushrooming through her back.

  “I was expecting more from you little Flame,” he mused as his footsteps recanted.

  Kaliel tried to reach out with her hands, she tried to protest, but she couldn’t do anything if he was going to leave her there. His hand smacked the interior wall playfully and her eyes widened. The orderlies rushed into the room, one under each of her shoulders, pulling her to her feet. Her knees buckled as her feet bent against the concrete floor. Hands pressed violently into her torso, forcing her to stay upright. Kaliel ran her eyes over Crestaos’s form. He was in black polished shoes, black trousers and a mandarin style jacket with silver buttons running down the left hand side. The cuffs were tapered with those same little buds of silver. His face was the product of dismay. Sallow skin spotted with tiny translucent red spots dotted his face. His nose was jagged and long, his cheeks droopy and his eyes sunken into their sockets. He had a high forehead and slicked back stringy white hair. There was a smirk on his colorless lips, and when he spoke, Kaliel noticed his black teeth and tongue. She cringed at the unseemliness of it and avoided his eyes.

  “I don’t want to hurt you anymore,” he said, dead pan.

  Kaliel still couldn’t find her feet; blighted in her paralytic state, unable to give him a reaction other than the one in her eyes, her shining violet colored eyes. The injections forced the flame to the forefront of her mind. It forced her aura to spark with the faint white violet color Crestaos was addicted to. She hung her head, not wanting to hear lies, not wanting to know what he wanted to do with her, what that mouth wanted to do with her. She would rather crawl out of her body than let him touch her.

  Crestaos snapped his fingers and like a marionette on strings, Kaliel snapped to attention. Her body stiffened like a board and there were aches everywhere. Her feet found the ground, and the orderlies eased up on her torso. “Follow me,” he said, turning from the door, his shiny shoes clacking on the concrete.

  Kaliel was still paralyzed, she couldn’t stride forward, nor would she want to if she had control of her body. The orderlies moved her stiff as a board body down the corridor after Crestaos, lights and shadows collecting in strips on the bare concrete. She couldn’t glance up to see where the light was coming from, and part of her didn’t care. She knew she was far from home, a prisoner in the lands of the Valtanyana, somewhere in the Avristyr quadrant, the Lands of Beasts. Her heart thrummed in her chest, threatening to push her into overdrive, but she tried to keep her calm. This was different than the days of cowardice torture, of neglect, of idle experiments. She wasn’t sure what this was.

  They carried her until they stopped, Crestaos perched on a ledge, and she was terrified. He looked over his shoulder at her and moved out of the way so she could see what he was looking at. The orderlies pushed her onto the balcony and then she saw it. Kaliel gaped, letting her eyes wash over the rushing rapids, the red rocks, the cages of rabid animals. Crestaos snapped his fingers again and Kaliel pitched forward, the paralysis wearing off in an instant. She fell on her hands and knees and retched. She wiped her mouth with her back of her hand and glanced up at Crestaos.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked; her voice hoarse and raspy.

  He sneered and put a hand on the railing. There was movement, rocks sliding out of the way, and people emerging on the ledge of the battlefield. Kaliel pulled herself to her feet and peered over the ledge. Faces she didn’t recognize stood shocked. She scanned each of them, looking for something familiar until her eyes found them. Her whole body shook with tremors as she traced the contours of his face, the high cheek bones, the elongated ears, and the full lips, the hairy exterior, the wolf-like feet. She let out a blood curdling scream and fought to throw herself over the balcony. She didn’t care if she landed in the molten rock or if she died from the fall.

  “Krishani!” she screamed as the orderlies pulled at her arms and legs, an impossibly strong force clamping her back in place. Her head wobbled back and forth as she tried to comprehend. She couldn’t believe it. He took Krishani, he took Pux, too. Who else had Crestaos killed? Who else had he imprisoned? Who had lasted long enough to face the battlefield?

  Crestaos lowered his lips to her ear and she could smell the rot on his blackened teeth. “I want you to kill them.”

  Kaliel straightened her back instinctively. Her mouth went dry, her mind blanked, her heart slammed against her ribcage as she thought of the idea of killing her best friend and the only boy she ever loved. She couldn’t do it, she wouldn’t do it. She would rather destroy herself than destroy the only things she ever loved. She knew what Crestaos wanted her to do, let the Flame loose, let it encompass her until it crushed her. He wanted her to burn everything the way she had in the First Era. He wanted to watch her do it again and again and again. She bit back tears and whined against the pain as Crestaos placed his hand on her shoulder and familiar shockwaves rippled through her.

  “I can’t,” she whispered breathlessly as she stared at the edge of the balcony
, unable to see the others gathered below.

  Crestaos lifted his hand off her shoulder and pressed his back into the railing of the balcony. He crossed his arms. “You have no choice. You’re mine now.”

  The truth hurt.

  The book hit the floor with a thud and Kemplan leapt out of his large leather chair at the sound. His pipe slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor as he turned in the direction of the sound, exploring the corridor. Another book hit the floor and the old librarian jumped. Only he and the Scryes were allowed to tamper with the books. Even in that capacity the Scryes were only allowed to touch books they had been told to touch. He straightened his back, pulling his vest taut over his round chest. He was going to yell at whoever it was when another stack of books hit the floor. He inhaled sharply and narrowed his eyes as he headed to the nearest row of shelves and peered down its length. It was empty, but his ears perked up when he heard a faint snarl. He quickly rounded the shelves and stopped dead in his tracks, heels digging into the wooden planks.

  Tor stood surrounded by a pile of books. His back turned, a cloak concealing the shiny gray scales trailing up and down his humanoid form. He muttered an incantation and held his hands out over the books.

  Kemplan gasped as a spark hit the paper, bursting the pile into flames. “No!”

  Tor turned, his gray, scaly face contorted in malice. His hood fell around his shoulders, showing off shallow horns, spiked ears, and scaly head. Claws for hands clenched at his sides, and in a swift move he drew Kemplan from the pile of burning books to the wall above the fireplace, catching his throat in the vice grip of his hand.

  “What did you do with it?” Tor seethed.

  Kemplan struggled to catch his breath as cold reptilian fingers with talon-like hooks dug into his thin flesh. A drop of blood oozed from a wound on his neck; he coughed. “The books ..."

  “Forget them. What did you do with the parchment?”