“Don’t you ever think about going home?” he asked as they walked along the harbour by the docks, gulls flapping overhead as a triple-masted schooner from Yllaizlo was being offloaded by a small crew of men. The flag rippled in the wind, distorting the cactus on a gold background that marked it as one of Lord Sandson’s.
Relkan paused to consider, tilting his head. “What do I have waiting for me at home? Besides, this feels like adventure, doesn’t it?” He lifted his head and closed his eyes, breeze ruffling his hair.
“Three years in one place is hardly an adventure.”
“That, my friend, depends upon your perspective.”
Seeker couldn’t really argue with that. The truth of it was, he’d never desired the life of a soldier. His life had been as comfortable as it could have been in his tiny village as the son of a priest, and he’d had the luxury of a better education than that of his peers, believing he would be trained to one day join his father in his practice and continue to live the life of the unambitious, for his father rarely dealt with anything beyond his small number of village parishioners.
That was until the day he’d walked in on his mother sobbing over a letter from the courier and discovered he’d been conscripted.
“Oh, would you look at that!” exclaimed Relkan as he scampered off to a small stall, its striped canopy fluttering in the ocean breeze.
Seeker gritted his teeth as he ran after him, wary of the way natives veered clear of them. Did he really not notice the way others looked at them? Or did he just pretend not to see? Even so, it was hardly dignified to go running when wearing their uniform as they did, for they represented the entire Sonlin Empire when they wore their double-breasted indigo coats, and brought shame upon the entire continent if their behaviour was not up to standards. Or so he’d had it beaten into his head, anyway.
“Seek, do you want some?”
He eyed the stick dubiously. Although the rich aroma lured him in, he did not find the look of charred squid particularly appetising. Too many tentacles for his liking.
“Suit yourself,” said Relkan as he handed over some coins to the man and then came back crunching, juices running down his hand that he lapped at eagerly. He laughed when he looked at Seeker’s face, loud and warbling, waving his prize in front of him. “It’s delicious. Crunchy on the outside and squishy on the inside.”
“I have absolutely no idea why you’d find that appealing,” he said as he craned his neck to get a look at the watchtower in the distance. “Relkan, we have to go. It’s nearly noon.”
“Sure, sure. Let’s get going then.”
They were supposed to meet Lieutenant Yshi in a small district off of Shanku Square but Relkan’s meandering meant they had only minutes to get there, up the steep incline of the sloping hill that had him puffing and panting as he hurried. By the time they turned one of the winding alleys out into the sunlit square he noticed that a scattering of people had clustered together, many with distressed expressions on their face.
Seeker shared a glance with Relkan as they broke through the line of people. It was a body. Or rather, it was a body shaped husk in plain clothing, the flesh shrunken into the bone, skin wizened and grey and flaking away into dust. The smell from it was so foul that several of the townsfolk were covering their mouths and noses with cloth as they stared, conversation a dull murmur. Apparently the stench was not enough to drive away their curiosity.
Yshi was already there and trying to help steer people away from the scene with the help of Lyss. Seeker stiffened at the sight of her.
Relkan crouched down and peered at it more closely. “I think we might need to call those spirit folks. What do you call them again? The order of something-or-other.”
Lyss looked down at Relkan with an imperious gaze. “We can handle it ourselves. “There’s no need to rattle the townsfolk unnecessarily.”
“I think they already are,” said Seeker, voice rising. “And we don’t have the knowledge to deal with this.”
“That’s ridiculous. I didn’t expect you to be the type to fall into the natives’ superstitious habits.”
“I’m not!” He could feel himself falling for the bait, but even then seemed powerless to stop himself. “But I sure in the Pillars don’t know what that is. Do you?”
“Silence,” said Yshi. She did not have to raise her voice for them to cease squabbling. “I shall alert the coroner. I have been speaking with the Governor’s daughter about a wayward spirit that has been causing trouble and I recognise this as something that could be a potential cause of its deviant nature. If anyone is to know what is to be done I should think it would be her.”
Lyss turned on him with a smug grin and Seeker clenched his fists at his sides, glaring back at her. Sometimes even the sight of her was enough to turn his stomach but he restrained himself from making a scene. On the surface she bore a sweet-looking face and big dark eyes, but the serpent lurked beneath; he could see the gears of her mind clicking away as she plotted even now. Why Yshi seemed to trust her, he did not know.
“Seeker and Relkan, you wait here while I see to this.”
Seeker saluted – two fingers of the right hand to the heart and up – and waited until Yshi and Lyss were out of sight before sighing, posture sagging as he did so. “Why do we get stuck with the dead body?” he said, eyeing the husk that was rotting beneath the afternoon sun. “Should we cover it, do you think?”
“But what happens if it tries to speak?”
Seeker narrowed his eyes.
Relkan cackled and clapped him on the back. “You are far too easily frightened by ghost stories.”
“Yes, well, it’s the way you tell them.” Such stories were blasphemous but there was no telling a man like Relkan that.
“In all seriousness, though. It would be respectful or something.”
“Fine, fine.” Relkan scuttled off to go and ask some lingering townsfolk for something to cover the body with, leaving Seeker alone with the body.
Its eyes stared out in an unseeing in a way that sent shivers up his spine, and they looked deflated, blood congealed at the corners. Seeker swatted a few flies that buzzed around the body, disgusted by the sight of them rubbing their front legs together like they were about to dive into a meal. Why am I the one that’s left with it? He was usually the laughing stock of their troop because of his squeamishness and he tried to keep his eyes from wandering back down to the horror sprawled across the cobblestones, resting on a bed of dead leaves, sodden newspaper, and broken bottles. It was the strangest kind of compulsion, the need to look.
Why does it upset you so?
Seeker’s head darted up, looking around. “Who’s there?”
No reply. The wind taunted him, stealing away brown leaves that crackled and crunched, almost a whisper of a voice as it tousled his hair. Looking around, the square was mostly empty except for Relkan, over by the traditional Illumination archway they’d come through, chatting animatedly to an old woman. For some inexplicable reason that had his gut coiling, it felt like Relkan was much farther away than he actually was, as if Seeker was watching him through the glass of a windowpane rather than the open air. I’m just imagining it, he scolded himself. Sometimes his imagination could run away from him, as prone to childish flights of fancy as it was.
You are sightless, whispered the wind and Seeker froze, mouth drying up.
“Who are you?” I’m talking to the wind. I must be losing my mind.
Open your eyes. Would you not like to see, human?
Seeker’s hands were cold but somehow moist with sweat, slipping against each other as he rubbed them together. He did not want to be witless; he’d be carted off to an institution and never see the light of day again. Then he’d bring shame on his family and – he’d most certainly never see their faces again. Oh, Pillars, save me, he thought. Please don’t let me be witless.
Useless human. I thought you’d be more fun to play with.
The voice tickled his ear and he shudd
ered in response, head darting all around him. He could not figure out where it was coming from. A bead of sweat rolled down this temple, tickling oversensitive skin.
“Would you believe me if I spoke aloud?”
Every muscle went rigid as his heart began to hammer at his ribcage, begging to escape. No. No, no, no. It took him a good few breaths of gasping air before he could turn his eyes to look. When they finally settled on the form below him he felt his stomach flip. He gasped and took a step backwards. Lock me up. Eyes wide, hands crawling down for his pistol, he found he couldn’t get a proper grip on it with his trembling hands.
“I thought you’d prefer if I had a physical body.” The jaw that had been hanging loose mashed against the upper head, teeth rattling. It was an awful mimicry of speaking; a puppet on loose strings.
And those eyes. They stared as if they could see through him, reddened with bulging veins that criss-crossed the yellowed whites of the eyes, and looked as if they were dribbling out of the sagging flesh around the sockets. All around them the skin was a lifeless, flaking grey.
Seeker clapped a hand over his mouth, willing himself not to vomit.
“This is not the reaction I expected,” said the voice, flat and vaguely feminine.
“You-you…” He wanted to call for help but he was trapped under its gaze, incapable of moving.
The thing turned its head, bones clicking as it did so. It looked like it was tilting its head in thought, eerie as that was. “You cannot see me properly so I thought I could talk with you if I possessed a form in this realm. I do not understand your distress.”
“De-dead. You’re – dead – supposed to be?”
“Oh dear, you aren’t terribly eloquent, are you?”
“I’m – uh – I’m – you…?” Seeker couldn’t believe he was being insulted by a reanimated corpse. A thought occurred to him as he managed to maintain steady breaths. “Is Relkan behind this somehow? Is this a prank of some sort?”
The thing continued to stare at the building across from him with its hanging jaw, giving it a gormless sort of smile. “I was curious. I wished to talk to a human. I do not know this ‘Relkan’ you speak of.”
“Right. So, uh, what are you?”
“Some of the older humans call me rei-don.”
Seeker breathed a sigh of relief, air exhaling all at once as the tension seeped from his body. “Oh, you’re a spirit. Thank the Pillars.” Did spirits regularly possess things? Did they speak? He didn’t know much about them considering he had been raised so far from a riftsite. As far as he had been aware, they’d been nothing but fanciful stories until he came to the Myrliks. Then he’d witnessed the floating lights at night and learned that creatures from beyond the physical realm existed, as far from the tales as the reality had revealed itself to be.
Then he considered. Had anyone ever spoken to a spirit before? Maybe he shouldn’t be too relieved. It was entirely possible he was still witless and was about to be discharged from service for illness of the mind. I wonder if they’d let me go home. He dismissed the thought as a coward’s. What’s Pa to do with a son like that?
“Could you maybe not be in there?” he ventured. “It’s really quite creepy.”
“But you will not see me.”
“I’m kind of all right with that.”
He felt the wind sigh, just the lightest tremble of a gust against his face, and then the body slumped to the ground again. A strange sensation went through him – almost like being dumped in cold water without the wetness – and his body convulsed involuntarily. Open your eyes, human. A yelp escaped him as he looked around him but all was still. No sign of life.
“What’s up with you?” said Relkan as he trotted over, trailing a blanket along the ground made of a traditional woven fabric, in a bright pink and blue pattern.
“Did you see that?”
“See what?”
“The body. Moving.” He mimicked the jaw movement with his hand.
Relkan laughed, holding his belly as he did so. “Ha, Seeker, funny! You should leave the ghost stories to me, I’m much better at them.”
“No really. It was possessed by a spirit and it talked to me.”
Relkan squinted at him. “You look really pale. Are you okay? Maybe you shouldn’t be working today. Desert-dwellers like you aren’t used to the humidity here. Probably too much sunlight, too. It’s not natural here.”
You shouldn’t have opened your mouth. Even Relkan will think you’re witless if you talk like that. “I’m just tired. Probably just my eyes getting the better of me, I guess.” He tried to laugh it off but he could tell it wasn’t particularly convincing.
“Hmm. I’ve never heard of spirits talking before. Well, except for those funny priests that try to tell me of the Awakening and how we’re all heathens that will drown in the Locker. What do you call them again?”
“Guides, Relkan.”
“Look at that, Seeker, you’re a prophet now!”
“Thank you for taking this seriously.”
Relkan rolled his eyes but he was smiling – the kind of smile that stretched across his face, cheeks dimpling. “Your problem is that you take everything far too seriously. It’s screwing your brain up with all the frowning you do.”
Seeker shook his head fondly, about to draw a line under the experience, but then movement caught his eye and he looked to see that some of the townsfolk were hovering a few feet away, some carrying tallow candles or paper lanterns even though it was the middle of the day. Unsure of what to do, he held the blanket up so they could see and carefully placed it over the lifeless face, one last look at the sunken flesh searing onto his eyelids.
Relkan gestured for him to take a step back. “Let them have their moment.”
“What are you doing?” he asked as one old woman passed him, dangling a lantern made of coloured glass.
She glanced at him suspiciously from beneath her shawl. “He angered the gods. If we do not cleanse him it will turn their wrath on us and open the door for Var Kunir to rise again.”
“Uh, right.”
Relkan dragged him away, bowing deeply as he did so to her. “He’s a curious one. Always asking questions, he is. May the light guide you.”
“May the light guide you,” she echoed.
Seeker watched them gather around, heads bowed as they murmured prayers, words washing over him like the current of the wind. “You know, you’re a good person, Relkan.”
Relkan winked at him but he couldn’t do it with one eye so the gesture became more of an awkward blink. Seeker snorted and patted him on the shoulder. His friend was probably right. Too much sunlight bleached the brains of these islanders and now it was happening to him too. Yet he couldn’t shake the disconcerting voice in his head that reminded him that he felt clearer of head than he’d ever been.
*
Kilai did not particularly want to look at a dead body. Instead she watched Janus as the cover was pulled back, noting the complete lack of reaction as his eyes flickered over it. He’d speculated this might happen, and she’d seen the gravity in his expression, but it was one thing to predict something and entirely different for it to actually come to pass. Not to mention the way it was affecting her family’s reputation. They’d already suffered protests about the lack of action being taken to handle the riftspawn. Some had spat and called her blasphemous. Zorkaja, was the word they used. It meant extinguished flame.
Distantly, she registered Rook whistle. “Oh, boy.”
It made Kilai uneasy. Her family were already regarded as in the pocket of the Sonlin Empire and it wasn’t something she really cared about – the teachings of the Zorashir were the zealous dregs at the bottom of a religion long drained away to a handful of crumbling churches, as far as she was concerned – but it was starting to mean something to the natives who were not keen to surrender their identity to continental ideas brought over by their occupying forces. She’d already been seen in one of their own places of worship and even though
she had been careful not to digress too far from traditional clothing, there was only so much she could do turn the tide of gossip.
I must find a way to balance both. She sighed. It was a task easier said than done.
“Have you ever seen this kind of thing before?” Rook said to Janus as she covered her nose and mouth, peering over the husk with avid curiosity in her pale eyes.
“Yes.”
“Not much of a conversationalist, are you? That’s fine. I’m thinking some kind of greater level malicious riftspawn prone to possession. Dakkai, maybe?” Kilai had no idea what that meant.
Janus nodded. “Possible.”
“What about asking my opinion?” interjected Alik.
Rook ignored him, looking at Viktor whose cheeks had leached of colour. “Are you alright there, Viktor? If you need to step out…”
Kilai hadn’t expected Viktor to return after he’d failed to turn up to their last meeting but earlier that day he had slunk into her office as if trying to avoid drawing attention to himself, along with the other three, barely speaking a word. Now his eyes were wide and his hand was hovering over his face as if he didn’t quite know what to do with it.
“Can I…? the tattoo…”
She narrowed her eyes. There had been a tattoo, barely recognisable on the shrivelled skin on the back of the neck, but tentacles poked around the throat almost like a band. It depicted a kraken, and was the symbol of one of the largest gangs on the city known as the Tendrils, having caused considerable trouble for her and her father over the years. Her suspicions grew at the recognition in his eyes.
The Broken Door Page 8