The Broken Door

by Sarah Stirling

  “Cheers,” he said, clinking glasses with the other men.

  He’d figure out a plan in the morning.

  *

  There was only one Endist church in the city, situated in an old part of town, just a few streets off Shanku Square. Jutting out above the smaller buildings that surrounded it, it lacked their details, little more than a stone tower in a deep, slate grey. From the windows candlelight flickered, spilling out into the darkened streets. The warmth invited him in and Seeker rubbed his hands together, hiccupping.

  He wasn’t sure if entering the church whilst dizzy from so much drink was considered blasphemous or not, but short of actually being thrown out by the priestess herself, he was doing it whether it was considered immoral or not. After spending the night drinking with Viktor and Janus, Seeker had gone back to the barracks in the hope that he might pass out from too much drink. Very briefly, it had worked.

  That was until the voice had spoken to him again and his dreams had been plagued once more with those rotting, walking corpses, hollow eyes staring straight through him and their weeping flesh slaking from slackened jaws. Open your eyes, the voice would say. See what you have already seen. Seeker wanted to scream that he did not know what this meant, but he didn’t know who to address other than the voice in his head. He had tried desperately to wake himself up because he’d known he’d been dreaming but it hadn’t seemed to matter. Instead he had thrashed in his sleep, crying out until someone else had woken him, receiving a hand to their throat for their effort.

  Wrenched out of sleep, soaking with sweat and breathing hard, he had thought, I can’t live like this. I can’t possibly live like this. It had taken all his effort not to cry in front of the other soldiers, the heat and pressure of several sleepy but judgemental eyes on his becoming oppressive, and he’d stolen out into the cool night air in civilian’s clothes. Technically frowned upon, but he wasn’t on duty and at this time of night it hardly mattered.

  “You seem troubled.” The priestess’ voice seemed to echo through the empty hall of the church. There was no escaping it.

  “Yeah. I’ve, uh, been having trouble sleeping.”

  She finished lighting the last of the candles at the front. Seeker was not a follower of Endism, the most dominant religion of the Sonlin Empire, so he wasn’t entirely sure what they were supposed to represent. As he waited, the silence amplified through such a large hall, ceiling higher than his eyes could even perceive when he craned his neck upwards. The more time passed, the more anxious he grew. Relkan had been a follower of the church, so he’d thought it fitting. Only now he felt a fool.

  When the priestess turned to him her face was shrouded in the shadow from her hood. “What is it that ails you?”

  Seeker hesitated, wondering how to word it without sounding completely witless. “I think I must have angered the gods somehow.” They did not follow the same gods but that hardly mattered. “I’m… hearing voices in my sleep. I see things in my dreams that seem to be sent from the demon that haunts me.”

  “That does indeed sound troubling. Forgive my asking, but have you done anything that might distress your conscious?”

  How to answer that question? Seeker would prostrate himself in front of every god from every religion in the world if it meant bringing his friend back, but such thoughts were not only impossible, they were also sacrilegious. I do not belong here, he thought to himself, stomach coiling with fear at the thought of being struck down an imposter.

  “I failed to save a friend,” he whispered. There was something reverent about the quiet of a church that he dared not disturb. “However, the dreams began before this.”

  “Come. I think the ones you must speak to are the gods,” she said, beckoning a finger.

  Seeker crossed the long walkway towards the front, cringing as his footsteps rang out in the church like the echoes of gunshots. The thin slits of windowpanes reflected stripes across the stone floor and created a dizzying effect as he strode towards the front. At the alter he kneeled and gazed into the flickering candle flames until he no longer saw them except for the flash of light out of the corner of his eye. What to say to a god that he did not believe in? That had let Seeker die? Let that thing possess him?

  Am I supposed to apologise for what is beyond my control? That, surely, could not be the answer. Seeker was not too proud to ask for forgiveness but something about doing it now seemed wrong. All his life he’d tried and tried to fit in; be the person he was supposed to. His father’s apprentice, a soldier of the military, a man of faith. It was entirely possible he just could not be any of those things, no matter how much he might strive for that sense of normalcy. The truth was a startling realisation, brighter than the weak embers of candle light that sputtered and dimmed. Yet with it came a gust of fresh relief. A sense of consolation. I am not that man.

  Yes, you see it now. You can be more. Do you accept my offer, human?

  When Seeker opened his eyes he could see her now: a green fox-like creature wearing a mask with hollow eyes, twin red fires burning inside. Lounging on top of the altar, three string-like tails caught flame like wick but then quickly snuffing into trails of wispy smoke. A breeze ruffled his hair and made him shiver as he gazed upon her. She was the voice in his dreams.

  “What are you?”

  She cocked her head and the gold emboss on her mask shone in the light from the window, suddenly a straight beam from the sky to where she sat. I am Niks Kataema, spirit of the storm, amongst other things. I see you want power.

  No, he wanted to say, but he could feel her laugh rumble though him as he realised it was a lie, and a feeble one at that. “I just want to know why I’m here. Why am I in this place? Why is this happening?”

  She leapt from the altar and stalked over to him, tails swishing. I need a physical body to share in this world and I think I could make use of you. Her mask was carved in a curving slit where her mouth should be. It mocked him. One of her tails trailed over his cheek as she turned on tiny paws, pads the colour of stale pond water. What do you say? I could make you strong.

  Ashamed of how badly he wanted to say yes, Seeker stamped on his tongue, grinding his teeth. He had heard enough stories about making deals with demons that came into your dreams and they always ended the same way: in utter and ruinous tragedy. This creature only wanted to use him. He tried to keep that thought to the forefront of his mind.

  “How are you able to enter hallowed ground?”

  You.

  Seeker felt the wind pick up, windows rattling against the power of the gust. “I don’t want to be at anyone’s mercy anymore,” he said. “I refuse to be powerless again.”

  Then claim what is yours. I could make you a king.

  He laughed, hollow and bitter. “I’m no king.”

  Hm. I’ll admit it’s usually easier than this. She hummed and the vibrations became the lowest rumble of thunder overhead. What does that pitiful heart of yours desire most? As she approached again he tried to stagger back out of the way but one of her tails snaked into his vision, tapping on the cloth of his jacket over his heart. The touch sent his head spinning as he fell backwards and braced himself for impact.

  Nothing.

  Seeker blinked, rubbing his head on instinct, but he couldn’t feel any bumps or bruises beneath his sweaty tangle of hair. Movement above him drew his attention and his mouth fell open at the sight of himself standing before him, so similar to his own image in the mirror and yet at the same time so different. This version stood taller, prouder, a gleam in his eyes that was unrecognisable to him. This man wasn’t invisible and people didn’t push him around. Those around him gazed up at him with respect.

  Seeker was looking at the version of himself he wanted to be. Not the strange, boorish boy from a nameless desert village, someone they didn’t understand. Not the disappointment of his family, never quite devout enough nor ambitious enough for his father. Not the man who did not even own a name for himself, but who bore that of the one’s who
se path he sought to follow.

  Seeker; the one who seeks. What did he seek? When he gazed upon the uncanny mirror image of himself, he suspected that written into those squared shoulders and upturned chin was a man who had a real name, for himself alone. A man with power, who could stop terrible things from happening instead of cowering and running.

  “If I accept, can I stop others from dying? Can I stop the thing that killed Relkan?”

  You will gain the power to harm spirits, yes, but even so you must take heed. Such forces are beyond your understanding, human. And you cannot stop death when it comes for those you love.

  Seeker barely heard her, mind running through all the possibilities. He’d be faster and stronger than Lyss; she’d no longer be able to turn her nose up at him and act like she was superior. Maybe he’d be able to finally go home, after having made a name for himself. He could come home a hero and the people would praise his father for having raised such a respectable son. Drunk on the image, he savoured the taste of it on his tongue. The creature’s approval spurred him on, his heart beating the delirious rhythm of a fever dream. A vision of a new future.

  I accept your offer.

  Even though he could not see her face behind the mask, he felt her smile. The wind died and the church fell silent. I knew you would see it my way, human. She padded forward like a cat until she was right in front of him, then leant her paws on his thighs. The sudden force plunged into him, rocking him where he kneeled, a shock that sent him reeling. The wind raged inside him, swirling into a tempest. The power roared in his veins and he clenched his fists with a grin.

  I look forward to our partnership.

  Seeker fell again and this time his head thudded against the solid stone floor, pain cracking through his skull and bringing tears to his eyes. The priestess appeared in his vision, looking down through the shroud of her hood.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, reaching down. “Did the gods speak to––”

  When her skin met his she gasped and snatched her hand away, eyes turning cold. “What did you see?”

  Seeker called a breeze to his fingertips, staring at his own hands in wonder. He looked up at her, a laugh spilling from his lips. “God,” he said. “I saw a god.”

  *

  “I have been doing all I can to ensure––”

  “What, exactly, have you been doing?”

  Kilai did not scowl but it was a very near thing. She reeled in her temper, staring at the soldiers from beyond the scope of her desk. Drumming her fingers on the surface as she contemplated, mostly because she could see the way it irritated the man in front of her, she took in the way his jaw clenched, eyes flicking from her fingers back up to her face. Control was an illusion and it was one she knew how to maintain well.

  “I have been informed by some reliable sources that this situation is not a routine occurrence. We may need to seek expert help from the Order of the Riftkeepers further afield if this escalates any further.”

  “No,” Dakanan said. “I won’t have us scraping to those cultists. This matter should have been handled efficiently and discreetly but now half of the damned town is out protesting this nightmare. I swear, you’re all so superstitious about these things it’s like I’ve wandered back a century just by crossing the Ikkulai Ocean.”

  “Oh? I was not aware you were the expert.”

  “A beast is a beast, is it not? If it can wear a human skin then it can bleed like one too.”

  Kilai huffed a laugh, standing to look out the window, shutters open to the sun and the sea beyond. In the square below people were gathering at the afternoon market, clustering together with their heads bowed in deep discussion. It was not anything significant yet but she knew that where people tended to gather they also tended to talk. People had died at that creature’s behest and it was unlike anything she had ever known of spirits before. Certainly not beyond stories she’d thought nothing but childish fancy.

  Once she might have agreed with General Dakanan but now the seed of doubt had been planted and was beginning to sprout.

  “I would be more than happy to leave this quest to your men if you believe they are fit to the task,” she said.

  “Then I will take it from your hands if you feel you aren’t capable.”

  Kilai smiled, just the simplest crack of lips with no feeling behind the eyes. She did not fail to notice that some of his own soldiers had paled at the news and were glancing between themselves with apprehension. “If that is all then I have business to return to.” It would not take long for him to come crawling back to beg for her help and when he did it would give her significant leverage. Her eyes were drawn back to the rabble outside. She just hoped this gambit did not damage the city too severely.

  “There is another thing, actually. I meant to bring this up with your father but seeing as he always seems to be busy these days I might as well speak to you on the matter.”

  “You might as well.”

  Dakanan paused, eyes narrowing. “Yes, I hope your father clears up that business of his soon. It would appear that this, hm, shall we say incident has not helped your reputation with the people. I’ve heard reports of secret meetings with the hopes of ousting your father and even the attempted burning of a ship carrying tobacco back home. The people aren’t happy and if it seems like your power here isn’t going to hold I will be forced to take action.”

  This was what she had feared. “You think they will support a foreign governor? Someone from across the sea that does not even speak their language properly? That does not know their customs? You’d be better with a dog in office to bark at them. Believe me, Dakanan-all, it will not go the way you think it will.”

  He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I think you forget that my power is not as fragile as yours. If the people do not like it they will learn to,” he said, voice lowering as he stepped forward until he was leaning over her desk. As were most people, he was a good head taller than Kilai, and he wielded it like the gun holstered to his side, forcing her to look up at him with a jutted lip.

  “I have seen tyranny overthrown before,” she said quietly, “do not be so arrogant as to think it cannot happen to you.”

  He smirked, stepping back and tugging at his collar. “Have you ever considered heeding your own advice, girl? Sandson is a prick of a thorn, I won’t deny that. But it won’t last. Elections,” he scoffed. “He set himself up to fall with that one.”

  The tension that had been building between them burst and drained out, leaving a blanket of calm over the room. It was akin to the time after a bad storm, when the sea finally retreated from its assault of the coast and left behind the debris and seaweed across the rocky shingle of the shore. It was the feeling of being able to finally draw an easy breath after being constricted by the crashing blow of panic.

  “I don’t dislike steel like yours,” he said. “I think you’d have done well had you been born across the ocean. But if I feel you aren’t acting in our mutual interests then I won’t hesitate to have you ousted from here.”

  “Then I suppose it’s only fair for me to be honest and say I will put my family’s interests first. You understand I have a city to tend, yes?”

  For a long moment he did not move. Her insides knotted in anticipation until he finally laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “I really can’t tell if you’re that arrogant or if you’re just mad.”

  “Likewise.”

  There was a knock at the door, startling both to attention. She glanced at him but saw no indication on his face that he knew what it was about. “Come in,” she called and watched as Yshi entered, face as stoic as ever even as her eyes took in the situation.

  “Apologies for the interruption. I have a report of the creature’s whereabouts. You told me to alert you immediately on the matter.”

  “Ah, yes,” he said, eyes flicking over to Kilai then back, “let’s hear it then.”

  Yshi hesitated before walking further into the room, sunlight shining
across the strong lines of her face as she looked between them – perhaps the most Kilai had ever seen her react to anything. “There’s a village northwest of the city that has reported a strange creature of decaying flesh. From the descriptions I don’t think it can be anything but the spirit you were hunting.”

  “How many deaths?”

  “Three have been reported so far.”

  “Have you sent anyone to investigate it yet?”

  Yshi glanced briefly at Dakanan but he did not interrupt. “Yes. I sent three of my men to scope out the situation and come back to me with it. I told them not to engage unless strictly necessary.”

  “Yes, that was probably for the best.”

  Dakanan frowned. “You all attach far too much importance to this thing. Last I heard, Lieutenant, your second was able to kill its host with bullets.”

  “Yes, although… Forgive me, I am not informed on the situation enough to do anything but speculate, but it did not seem to matter. She told me the body – one of my own men, Sir – should have been dead long before he finally fell and that even when he did, it was able to survive long enough to attach itself to a new host. Honestly, I worry that I do not know how our men can defend themselves against it, should it try to take any one of us.”

  Dakanan was clenching his jaw so fiercely Kilai could see the muscles twitch. “Are you sure she spoke the truth?”

  “Yes.”

  “I do not mean to imply that she would lie to you, merely that her own fear could perhaps have scrambled her memory of the ordeal. Spirits – not ones with any power – they cannot venture that far from the rift. I know that much by now.”

  Kilai bit her tongue to stop herself from speaking out. She thought of Rook, that strange southern woman who seemed to know more than any of them about it. She had warned her that the rift was unstable but Kilai barely even knew what that meant. The Order was a dying animal, virtually defunct after hundreds of years of nothing but harmless riftspawn that, at most, had been known to sting people like the jellyfish that washed up on the shore during the high season and nipped at the unsuspecting swimmer. What they were experiencing was the kind of thing from stories and legends. Riftspawn should not be able to affect the physical world so easily; it went against all rules of the world.