The breeze picked up, whistling softly and caressing his hair. Not so powerless anymore. Once he had full mastery over the powers he now possessed, this creature could run in fear of him. The thought bloomed inside him, growing and rumbling with the feeling of rightness. Soon the wind was shaking loose the dust and ash, carrying it on a sharp gust that had the others shielding their eyes from the onslaught. Its mourning howl rang in his ears. It sounded like his own voice.
“This is getting even creepier,” said Ren.
Yshi gazed upon setting sun. “I think we should set up camp for the night.”
Come and find me, spirit. Find me. Fight me. Those were the words on the wind.
“Seeker?” said Lyss.
Seeker met her gaze with a tumultuous calm.
“What are you looking at? What can you see?”
He watched her recoil when he smiled.
“Everything.”
She blinked wide eyes at him, hand at her waist as if ready to draw fire. Before she could act, a braying laugh rang out through the trees. Her hair fanned out as her head whipped around, boots crunching on the ashen ground. “What was that?”
Seeker wrinkled his nose. The stench was foul and it made him want to gag. Blackened energy surged through the light tingle of the other spirits, scattering them through the sky in trepidation. The laughter continued, raising the hairs on his arms as he was filled with a terrible, terrible dread. He could remember the way it had felt in the forest at the fort, with its mouth stretched wide as if it might swallow him whole. The image of Relkan’s face twisted and bent out shape fuelled his ire, fists clenching on reflex.
“Stand to attention,” commanded Yshi. “Keep your heads.”
One by one they shuffled into a circle, backs facing inwards as all scanned the murky horizon for signs of the creature.
Seeker’s anger longed for release. The delighted whisperings of Niks in his ear spurred him on. Fight me.
A scream startled him and he whipped to his right, glimpsing the staggering creature before it disappeared between a cluster of trees. There. He marched towards it with the breath of the storm in his palms. He would destroy it. The thief couldn’t be allowed to carry on wearing Relkan’s face.
“Stand back, soldier!”
Seeker kept walking. Like a hunting dog that had caught a scent, there was no stopping him now. A hand gripped his wrist and yanked him back to the frantic eyes of Lyss. “What are you doing? Do you want to die?”
He snatched his hand from her. “I won’t die.”
Her eyes roamed his face, mouth burrowing tight. “What happened to you?”
“I opened my eyes.”
Thunder rumbled overhead, stealing her attention from him. The sky roiled with black clouds, sun but the weakest embers of a dying fire. Somewhere out there, amongst the threads of energy tied to every living thing around him, the creature stirred. He tugged on its own swollen thread, letting it lead him towards where he could find it and tear it apart for what it had done to his friend.
The sound of gunshots echoed through the land, startling a flock of birds overhead. Seeker looked behind him but he found no weapons drawn, each looking as startled as he. Then yelling followed the resounding silence, punctuated by screaming.
“Move out!” Yshi tore off in search of the noise, the others on her heels.
Seeker could feel it before he saw it – the acrid, clogging scent of death and the numbness that followed. Not the unnatural signature that belonged to the creature within the decaying carcass of his fallen friend, but the strange, alien absence of energy where it had once been not long before. It screamed wrong against his skin.
“No! No, wake up!” A man was folded over a body, clutching at lifeless hands. Even in the fading light, Seeker could see where the skin had puckered and shrivelled, eyes lifeless. Still the man wailed, tears tracking down his face. “Please, open your eyes! Please.”
Open your eyes.
It triggered a flood within him, crashing over the storm. Seeker gasped and staggered back, visions of death and rotting corpses consuming his thoughts. It was as if he couldn’t see what was in front of him, lost to the images plaguing his mind. His hands clutched at his face as if he could tear them out.
The laughter resounded again, harsh and chilling. The noxious energy swirled around and around him until he couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“It’s coming!”
A shot thundered in his eardrums. Seeker flinched, whimpering. Too much. It was all too much.
More screams. Death. He could hear; smell; taste; feel it.
“Seeker!”
He wanted to run away but his legs wouldn’t move. His body was shutting down, protesting his desperate commands.
“Seeker! Move!”
Something slammed into him and the next thing he knew he was sprawled on the ground, the breath knocked out of him. The pain brought his senses back, gradually filtering in until he could see where he was, lying in the dirt with Lyss pressing down on his chest. Her dark hair tickled his nose as she fired off a shot and then rolled off of him, eyes still ahead of her. “Get up! It’s still out there.”
Seeker sucked in air and groaned. When he finally managed to stumble to his feet he saw the bodies on the ground, strewn like broken dolls with limbs askew and lifeless eyes. Some bore indigo coats and familiar faces; more to the list of those that haunted his dreams.
“What happened to you?” snapped Lyss, moving into his space. Her eyes burned.
“I…” What had happened? He had felt so much and so intensely that he hadn’t been able to contain it all. His hands still shook.
“Get yourself together, soldier. There are lives at stake.”
Seeker gulped. As much as he wanted to defend himself, there was no defence. The bodies spoke volumes about his own failure. Shoulders slumping, he felt his head droop, fingers pressing against his eyes. “Where is Lieutenant Yshi?”
“She’s still hunting the creature. We should help her.”
Seeker nodded, wishing Niks were with him. “How-how many?”
Lyss’ expression turned pensive before she turned and began to walk away. “It doesn’t do to dwell. Let’s focus on those we can save.”
Deflated, defeated, Seeker did what Seeker did best: he followed.
*
“What do you think is going on out there?”
Rook cocked her head, listening. “It sounds like I was right.”
Viktor scowled. “What, you can see the future now?”
“No. I did meet an oracle once but honestly I don’t know how accurate their predictions were. They spent a lot of time being very cryptic and vague and I wasn’t really sure if it meant they could be interpreted as correct, if you reached really hard. Or maybe that’s just how it is when you see the future. I couldn’t tell you.”
“You can’t know the future.”
“Why not?”
“Because – because people change their minds all the time. It’s not like that’s predetermined.”
“No,” agreed Rook, watching that thin sliver of blue sky she could see from above, “but as far as I’m aware its more like taking into account all the different possibilities and calculating which is most likely.”
“I still say that’s impossible.”
“Hm. Maybe.”
Viktor was huddled up on the opposite side of his cell, resting his chin on his knees and looking utterly dejected. Rook had taken to drawing him into arguments to try and keep him from losing all life. The guards had rattled the bars more than once to order them to be quiet when they got too heated but it was better than sitting around and waiting to die. Sit around too long and thoughts tended to catch up to you – many were thoughts she didn’t want to dwell on. Do not fight the wind. Let it guide you. Which did not mean sitting around and being steered. Not now that she had the stirrings of a plan forming in her mind.
The yelling was growing louder outside, voices surging into one cacop
hony of rage. The ground shook with stamping feet. Rook could only imagine how it looked out there, people swarming the streets, too many for the soldiers to do anything about. That was the thing about the lowly average citizen; one alone was weak but in great numbers one could find strength.
A gunshot pierced the din and she winced. “Things are getting messy out there.”
“You don’t look very upset about it.”
“No. It’s our best chance out of here.”
Viktor’s head perked up, eyes widening. It was easy to forget that he was little more than a youth, still growing into his broad frame and shedding the last of his puppy fat. There was a charming balance of world-weariness and naivety that suggested whatever harsh life he had come from had not completely stamped out his idealism. “I want to ask but I also don’t,” he finally said.
“Suit yourself.” She felt a tingle against her senses and glanced up. “Ah, look, our escape plan is here.”
Viktor looked up at the key shaped creature that floated through the window, struggling in its journey to keep shape, the metal dripping and trailing wispy tendrils of the riftspawn’s form. At his expression Rook laughed, and then laughed even harder at his disgruntled expression, bottom lip jutted out in defiance. She held up a hand and beckoned the riftspawn towards her until it rested gently in her outstretched palm.
“Okay, what is that?”
“A key that’s been possessed.”
Viktor stared flatly at it and then threw up his hands. “Of course it is.”
“So could you maybe help me out here?” she said, holding out her chained wrists. “Since you’re not tied down like an animal.” If a little bite slipped into her tone at the end it seemed to do the job. Viktor tentatively approached her and took the key through the bars that separated them.
“I’m not going to hurt you. We’re on the same team here.”
“Are we? I don’t know what you are.”
Rook tried to suppress the sting of that comment but she smiled through it. “What I am is your best chance of escaping before we both get hanged in the city square.”
Viktor’s eyes flicked over her for one long moment before he sighed and nodded. “Do I take the key or…?”
“How does one normally use a key, Viktor?”
“They don’t normally come floating through windows, do they?” he snapped and snatched it up, rolling it between his fingers. “It feels weird.”
“Weird how?”
“I don’t know. Ticklish? I can just tell something isn’t right about it.”
That was curious. “Where were you born?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Can’t two friends get to know one another better?”
“Not in that tone of voice they can’t.”
Locker’s depths but he was difficult. “Just indulge me, then,” she said, offering up her wrists. “It’ll pass the time.”
Viktor jammed the key into padlock and jangled it around, sticking out his tongue as he did so. It took a few different manoeuvrings but eventually her cuffs cleaved open and the metal clattered against stone. Rook froze, glancing around to make sure it hadn’t been heard, but figured they were in the clear when there was no noise beyond the sporadic dripping of water from the ceiling, stone stalactite forming in its place. Rubbing at the tender skin and clenching her teeth through the pain, she felt her smile grow. Now for the real test.
The key wasn’t made for the lock in the door, which meant she had to try and coax the Taemlah within to try and change the shape of the metal. No easy task considering that these creatures typically had very low attention spans. “Like this,” she said, pointing to the lock and mimicking the turning of a key as it floated behind her. Viktor was still giving both of them a few feet of distance, as if afraid she would suddenly snap and attack again, even through the bars that separated them.
The key began to lose shape, turning into a blob of lumpen metal. “Please don’t do that, little friend.” She tried reaching out with some of The Rook’s energy but as apprehensive as she was of reaching too far down that deep well, she felt her grasp on that energy flicker out and fade. Rook released her breath in a hiss. It was a steep climb back up if she fell.
“This was your grand plan?” scoffed Viktor, eyeing the key with a dubious brow. “Talk to the key? Whisper lovingly into its ear?”
“Sweet nothings all night long, if I have to.” She tried to pick up the misshapen metal but it burned hot and it slipped through her fingers as if she were trying to catch water. “This, here.” She tapped the lock. “Another key, please. I’ll make it worth your while.”
More gunshots rang out in quick succession, followed by a sudden wave of deep, eerie silence. No time, she thought, and plunged down into the depths of her connection, drawing up the other part of her. Key, she demanded, shivering as the icy waves of spiritual energy rolled over her. Help us. Your fate depends on it.
The metal popped into the shape of a key with different teeth from the last, ramming itself into the lock with an afterglow of a pale blue light. Rattling for a teeth-grittingly long moment, the lock finally clicked open. The hinges of the door squeaked at it swung out.
“See?” she said, looking at Viktor. “What did I tell you?” She stepped out and then opened the door to his cell.
He was looking at her with wary eyes, mouth a thin line. “Your eyes were glowing. They looked weird.”
“Ha, yeah,” she said airily, “they do that sometimes. Don’t you concern yourself with that.”
“Right. Because last time you didn’t try to kill me.”
Rook held his gaze, trying to convey that she was in control of herself. “I am sorry about that.”
Viktor’s eyes fell to the ground. “I still have my head, I guess.”
“Don’t count the day before the dawn,” she said, peeking around the gate to look down the long corridor. It was quiet, bulging with gloom, putrid with damp. No other prisoners remained besides an old man sleeping two cells down, and mercifully there were no guards. “Let’s get out of here first.”
She crept alone towards the exit, keeping herself pressed towards the cell bars. She had better senses than the average human but they were overwhelmed by the din in the street, making it difficult to hear who was above. They would probably still have to fight their way out of the building but if most of the city’s fighters were out subduing the masses it would make escape a little easier for both of them.
There was still another door to get through too, a great heavy oaken door with another lock. When she looked above her shoulder she saw the spirit swirling through the air, no longer attached to the original key. It would probably be asking too much, all things considering. The problem, however, still remained. The Rook may have enough strength to knock it down but she was hesitant to draw that much attention when she had been aiming for being as stealthy as possible.
“Do you have anything sharp?” Viktor asked, crouching down to peer at the lock.
“They took all my knives from me. All we have is a different key.”
Viktor took it from her, examining it with careful fingers. “The metal is still soft. I can bend it but it might take a while to set again.”
“I don’t think we have time.”
“Are you asking my permission?”
Rook hesitated, seeing the gravity in his eyes. “I don’t know. I know you’re uncomfortable with it.”
Viktor ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I like my life more.” He grimaced. “Well. I like the potential of my life more.”
“I get that,” she said, closing her eyes as she reached inside herself once more. Help us, she commanded the riftspawn. Open the door. Using the voice of The Rook gave her a certain power over these lower level creatures, as she was bonded to a greater level of spirit, one with enough presence that they responded to its tone. The headiest rush of power swept her, dragging her into an undertow as her mind collided with the alien presence of The Rook’s.
She drove her nails into the flesh of her palms, the pain keeping her grounded. She didn’t want to lose control but sometimes she could feel herself slipping off the edge.
When she opened her eyes the whole door was glowing with the faintest blue outline. Viktor stared at it with wide eyes, stumbling back a step as it creaked and rattled, before the handle clicked and the door cracked open, a thin beam of light breaking through. “I suppose that has its uses.”
“Yes, no need for lock picking. Makes being a thief a little easier, huh?” Rook smiled at Viktor’s wide eyes as she tilted the door open far enough to look through, peering at a winding stone staircase that ascended up inside a stone tower. There was no one there.
“You know, where I’m from it’s considered a great honour,” she said as she began to traverse the worn out stone, treading softly to avoid the echo.
“What is?”
“To be a beserker.” At his dubious expression she huffed a laugh. “It makes you stronger, faster, your senses sharper. It makes you a better warrior. In some ways, at least. To my culture that is the most important thing.”
“How did you end up here, then?”
“I didn’t like losing control. Losing my sense of self. The voice in my head… it can be very overpowering if I don’t fight it and sometimes it’s really hard to remind myself to. So I left and joined the Order of the Riftkeepers. They tried to help me use the bond to protect our realm from the riftspawn that passed through the rifts. There are two rifts in Rökkum, and both are very unstable.”
“Rökkum. This is your name for the Yllnyk?”
“The Yllnyk is not its true name. Just as we do not stand in the Yllzlo, truly.”
At the top of the stairs Viktor paused, seeming to think about that for a moment before saying, “I can see how it might be nice to be stronger.” Then after another beat, “At least you got out. Sometimes I feel like I’ll never be able to break free.”
The Broken Door Page 18