The Broken Door

by Sarah Stirling

  “What’s the deal with this thing, anyway?” he asked, bringing it up to his face to inspect.

  “It’s made for hunting riftspawn only. They should not be used for anything else. I’ll clean your wound for you if you wash it clean for me.”

  “Why me?”

  “Please,” was all she said as she searched through her bag for her waterskin.

  Viktor grunted his assent and dunked it into the saltwater, waving it around and scattering a shoal of fish. When he pulled it back out, dripping, it gleamed shiny and clean. “It’s pretty wicked looking,” he said, giving it an experimental swing.

  “Yes,” she said, taking it out of his hands and attaching it behind her back along with it’s partner. “It is.”

  *

  By the time they made it past the outskirts of the city and onto the wide dirt road through the striped landscape of coffee farms it was encroaching noon, the sun high in the sky, and Kilai was sweating through her blouse. Each bump of her horseless carriage sent her thudding against the seat and it only served to make her more irritable.

  “Pull up here, please, Makei,” she said to the driver as they neared the village of the most recent sighting of the spirit creature they sought. It was little more than a scattering of farmhouses tucked into the wide expanse of valley between the mountains on either side. A few heads peeked out from windows to watch them seek the house farthest out – a small brick cottage surrounded by a low-lying stone wall and an olive tree stooped over it, as if it could no longer hold up its own weight.

  Alik, the local man from the rift guardians that had talked himself breathless on the carriage ride over, stepped up to the cottage door and rapped his knuckles against the pale blue door.

  “Hello?” an older man said as he poked his head around the door, frowning as his eyes alighted on the four of them. “Can I help you?”

  “Gorram-wei?” Kilai said, stepping in front of Alik. “You made a complaint about a spirit troubling you recently?”

  The door swung open. “I sure did! You’d be one of them rift hunters, is it?” His dark drooping eyes swept them up and down with a nod. “It’s about damn time too! Do you know what happened to me? The cursed bugger shrivelled up all my crops. Nothing will grow! How am I supposed to make the harvest now? My family are going to starve if we don’t––”

  “My father will see that you are compensated provided we can determine proof of your claim.”

  Gorram scratched his scraggly chin, lines on his face deepening. “You can ask the rest of the townsfolk. They all saw it too. Like it was sucking the damned life from the ground itself.”

  “May we see?” she said.

  “Come, come.” He stepped out and gestured for them to follow around the back of the cottage, lifting the latch on the gate and striding away, rambling on about how he was owed for the Order’s lack of care in controlling a threat.

  Kilai sighed. It’s to be that kind of day then, she mused as she crossed through the gate in front of her companions – the two men from the order like the sun and moon, Alik swelling into the space with his loud voice and posture, Janus slinking into his shadow with nary a word spoken. The last of them was Yshi, a physically imposing woman clad in indigo, sent at her father’s behest. I don’t know or trust those scoundrels, he’d said, and she’d accepted out of knowing that fighting it usually proved futile. Especially when he’d coughed all through the speech, guilt turning her stomach.

  Kilai deliberately avoided the soldier as she gazed upon the expanse of the field. Everything was dead. Leaves crumbling and withered into grey husks, the soil ashen and dry, and even the surrounding grass had been scorched brown. How was it possible? It was the third example she’d seen today, having already visited another coffee farmer and a fisherman who had been left with only the skeletons of his fish after a visit by a ghostly shape in the night.

  “The thing was huge. You wouldn’t even believe me if I tried to describe it to you, Shai,” said Gorram, throwing his hands open wide to demonstrate. “I didn’t believe my own eyes at first but my wife saw it too. Said, ‘Gor-cho, sometimes you just gotta trust what your eyes see, you know?’ I swear I’d lose my head if it weren’t for her.”

  “This was how long ago now?” she asked, watching Janus reach down to inspect a shrivelled plant.

  “Two days ago? Three? No, it was two. I remember now because Yenah-wei came to–”

  “Yes, thank you,” she said and walked over to Janus, lifting her skirt to avoid it trailing in the muck. “What do you see?”

  He glanced up her, rubbing his fingers together as ash fell from between them. “Everything is dead. Don’t think the man was too far off the mark when he said it was like the life had been sucked from the ground,” he said softly, with the slightest trace of an accent.

  “You’ve seen this before?”

  He seemed to think, brows furrowed as he gazed across the field before finally stretching up to his full height, nearly a full foot taller than her if she had to estimate. Her own posture straightened up even further as a result, neck stretched to lessen the effect of him looking down at her. It was a feeling she did not like.

  “Saw something similar before, although not quite like this.”

  “That’s a little vague.”

  Thin lips tilted at the corners. “Hm. Yes.”

  “I’m not asking for your life history.”

  “No. What I saw before. Riftspawn are generally drawn to life.”

  Kilai crossed her arms, trying not to lose her temper. Whoever said patience is a virtue did not have a city to run. “You would not call this life?” she said, gesturing to the dead field.

  “To something more than this. If this creature continues to grow it will seek stability in this world.” He tapped a hand over the left side of his chest; the heart. “It cannot exist far from the rift in its current form.”

  “It will seek… a host?”

  “Something like that, yes. In theory.”

  “How much are you willing to stake on your theory?”

  Janus’ dark eyes flickered between the ground and her face. “Am fairly certain of this outcome.”

  This was something she was completely unprepared for; something she never thought she’d ever have to account for. She could feel the first fraying threads of panic that threatened to unravel in her mind. “Why now? We have never had this kind of problem before.” She had to protect her father’s position. Anything else was untenable. “It doesn’t even seem real.”

  Janus shrugged. “Could be any number of things, most of which are beyond my understanding.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be the expert?”

  “In killing, yes.”

  Something about the tone of his voice and the utter blankness of his expression made Kilai shiver. “Then we must find this thing and kill it immediately.”

  “Yes.”

  She left him to further inspections, trekking back to Alik and Yshi who appeared to be locked in argument from the way they were closing into each other’s space, Yshi towering above Alik whilst he leant forward with his arms moving through the air in time with the rhythm of his rant.

  “If what they’re saying is nothing but nonsense, how do you explain the field? Or the fish?”

  “It could simply be the weather.”

  “The weather!” he scoffed. “You really believe that?”

  “Alright that is enough,” said Kilai, clapping her hands to catch their attention. “If you are unable to track this thing I believe we are done for the day. It seems this endeavour has been nothing but a waste of time.” She began to walk back to the carriage.

  “I most certainly can track it,” said Alik as he charged after her. At her arched brow he raised his palms defensively. “It takes time. They move quickly but cannot stray far from the rift.”

  “I think then I should be asking the other half of your team.” Makei helped her with the steep jump up into the carriage and she swept her skirt under he
r as she sat, gazing out of the open window.

  “You’d leave this kind of thing to a foreigner?”

  Kilai turned her eyes back to him. “I’d leave it to whoever proved most equipped to handle it. That is how businesses are run, Alik-wei.”

  Alik bundled himself into the carriage. “I’ll prove it to you. That girl… she is reckless. I do not trust she knows what she’s doing, nor do I trust her restraint. You know what they say about those from the Yllnyk.”

  “I do not think is particularly appropriate, do you?” Propriety was the key in business; to discriminate was to lose custom. Running a city, she had found, was no different.

  Alik shrugged but looked sheepish. “I’m just warning you to take caution, that’s all.”

  “Consider me warned.”

  “Shai! Shai!” called the old farmer as he shuffled past the farmhouse to the carriage on bandy legs, reminding her of those wading hornfishers that hunted their prey in the shallow waters of ponds and lakes, known for their comical style of walking. “What about my compensation?”

  Out of the corner of her eye Kilai noted Janus and Yshi swinging up into the carriage on the other side and said, “I will speak to my father about it,” as she rapped on the wooden partition between her and the driver’s seat.

  The carriage rumbled to a start, trundling back along the dirt road as he attempted to keep pace, calling out to her in an increasingly more desperate tone before lapsing into angry yelling. Kilai took this in calmly as she kept her eyes ahead of her. Such emotional displays were unbecoming and would have no hope of swaying her favour.

  “So answer me honestly,” she said to the two men. “Can you find this thing or not?”

  Before Alik could open his mouth Janus said, “We should discuss with the others and see what they have found. The rift is usually the key in these circumstances.”

  “All right,” she said, resigned to the necessity of trusting they knew what to do. “I’ll expect you to report back to me tomorrow.”

  Janus nodded.

  They continued on through the winding city streets, bouncing over the cobbles. They had to travel a specific route as some of the roads were not wide enough to let the carriage pass and it meant the journey took longer to reach the heart of the city where the buildings were freshly painted, terracotta roofs shining bright in the sunshine. The city had been carved into the steep valley between jagged black peaks to the north and as they crested the hill, the sharp decline raced away to the harbour and the vast expanse of blue ocean glinting in the distance, carrying the scent of saltwater on the wind. Boats bobbed on gentle waves, moored to a series of piers for the transportation of cargo. They mostly consisted of small sloops and fishing trawlers but a few of the larger vessels – for now still sailing ships – bore her family crest: the red turtle on a teal background.

  As they drew nearer to Shanku Square Kilai saw a small crowd gathered between a series of market stalls, tightly-packed bodies obscuring from view the source of their reason for gathering. There were several indigo coats scattered amongst them and the sight unsettled her. Unrest seemed to be all too frequent these days.

  To her irritation Yshi swung out of the carriage before she could. She stepped down after the soldier, mindful of her skirt. Yshi’s coat was the same fitted indigo as the others, but hers was trimmed with navy blue instead of the standard crimson, and bore two silver stripes instead of one. Clearly she held rank over the standard soldier.

  Tall, muscular and imposing, she cut through the swathes of people gathered, Kilai following in her wake. The people around her were pushing each other out of the way in an attempt to get a better look at the altercation. Two men in particular appeared to be squaring off, body language tense as they swaggered around one another, the shorter of the two snarling insults as his companions tried to hall him back. The taller soldier leant back with a smirk and bit into the apple he carried in his hand.

  This set off the other man. Ripping out of his companions’ hold, he took a swing for the indigo coat with a cry, nearly tripping as the soldier easily ducked and he skidded forwards a few steps.

  “You don’t own this city, bluecoat,” he said, spitting on the ground.

  The soldier looked around at his audience and laughed. “No? Can you stop me?” He waved the apple in the man’s face.

  “Your greed is disgusting. Do you expect to just take and take and think we’ll accept it?” A few murmurs of the crowd echoed his sentiments.

  “What’s the cost of one apple to you, really? Aren’t you the greedy one not giving back to the community?”

  Before things could take a turn for the worse Yshi stepped between them, hand on the sword strapped to her side. “What is the meaning of this?” Her voice rang out clear through the crowd and many scattered at the sight of her, a few others shuffling closer with craned necks.

  The farmer – for Kilai recognised him as one who regularly set up stalls in town to sell his fruits – stared at her with seething eyes but said nothing. Apparently he did not trust she would listen to his concerns. The soldier’s posture had changed in the presence of Yshi but he kept a nonchalant expression on his face as he continued to crunch into the apple, eyes still on the farmer as if awaiting a reaction.

  Kilai pushed through the crowd in her wake and stepped up to the farmer. “Tell me what happened here.” It was always best to deal with things at once, before the patter of rain could escalate into a storm.

  “Those bastards think they can come in and take whatever they like, the rest of us be damned!” He spat on the ground again, the globule of saliva shining between him and the soldier. “I won’t stand for this no longer.”

  Kilai hesitated for a moment, eyes flicking from him to the soldier and back again. How she handled this was pivotal. She was aware of the sticky situation; her father had told her that they had to appease the soldiers and in turn they would be left to run the island as they wished, for the most part. Yet she could not displease the citizens either, for it was with them that power was legitimised. Best to end this now.

  “You will pay him for the wares you took,” she said, meeting the soldier’s eyes with a level stare.

  The man looked back at Yshi, who stood as still as a statue, watching the proceedings unfold. Grumbling, he reached into the pocket of his trousers and flicked a few coins over to the farmer, who caught them with a grin, jutting his chin out in triumph.

  “You will all be welcoming to the soldiers here for our protection.”

  Kilai watched as the crowd dispersed and then gestured for Yshi to join her, keeping her eyes ahead of her so she did not have to look up. “You are in command here?”

  “Of my own troop. I have no jurisdiction over the entire island force.”

  That would mean taking things to Dakanan, something she was even less keen to do than ask Yshi. “Nevertheless, it would be wise to keep watch over them and prevent them from disturbing the locals. Take it to your commander that we will not stand for such behaviour.”

  “Should your father not be the one speaking?”

  Kilai bristled. “I speak on his behalf.”

  Yshi simply nodded, and it infuriated her further because she did not know if the gesture meant acceptance or merely an acknowledgement of her words. “Pardon me, but I must take my leave of you now.”

  Kilai waved her away and turned back for the governor’s office, gently massaging her temples to ward off her oncoming headache. Do things always have to be this complicated? With the occupying forces now pervading every part of island life, her father’s popularity was waning amongst the natives, and yet they could do very little against the might of an empire, leaving them little choice but to accept their intrusion. There had to be a better solution than constantly scrambling to sew up all the unravelling threads but, alas, she could not name it. All she could do was continue to patch up the holes and hope for the best.

  Kilai was not in the habit of hoping; she was a creature of action. Things will
not hold this way forever. I see it.

  *

  “Where have you been?”

  Viktor paused on the threshold of the shelter, trying to look casual in the face of several pairs of curious eyes. “I got into a scuffle with a soldier. Had to disappear for a while.”

  “Seems you’ve been getting into a few scuffles, lately,” said Dallren, placing a card down on the table.

  Some of the youths at the table tittered, examining their own decks. The others peered up at him, waiting to see if he was going to make a fight of it. He wasn’t. Viktor was tired from the excursion, still confused from everything he had witnessed, and wasn’t quite feeling like himself. All he wanted was to curl up in a dry corner and catch a few hours of sleep before he was due to meet with Shaikuro’s team, but he hadn’t predicted Dallren and his clique would be here, rowdy from glasses of gin littering the table. It would be hard to sleep knowing they were lurking below but he didn’t think he could just walk out now without it turning into a scene, so he cut across to the stairs instead.

  “Not going to join us for a drink, Viktor?” said Vallai, another of Dallren’s circle.

  “’M tired,” he mumbled. “Besides, you’re in the middle of a game.”

  “Don’t be like that.” Dallren rose from his seat and Viktor resisted the urge to flinch, despite the way his body desperately wanted to flee. Blue eyes caught on his clothes and he couldn’t help the way he stiffened, attempting to meet Dallren’s gaze as defiantly as he could. Viktor had once spied him and his cronies beat into a much smaller boy for taking a bottle of rum that Dallren had assumed was his, leaving the boy a bloody pulp of swollen flesh. There weren’t any rules on the streets. No one was going to punish them for whatever claim they made up to justify their bullying, so he simply made it his business to avoid them as much as possible.

  “Say,” he said as he drew closer, “where’d you get clothes like these? Did you steal them, Viktor? I’m almost impressed.”