“How did you end up down here?” he grumbled.
Kilai was leaning against Rook. “I was trying to hide from the possessed soldier trying to kill me.” The riftspawn hovered in the space between them, illuminating their faces in red.
“It’s dead,” said Rook in a hollow tone, “but the problem still remains.”
“This is the riftsite, isn’t it?”
“You can feel it?”
Even Viktor could feel the pressure inside his skull, like a deep resounding bass drum beneath his skin. Perhaps when the force was this strong everyone could feel it.
“No,” said Kilai and his stomach dropped.
“It’s strong.”
“It must be,” Kilai murmured, looking up.
More and more riftspawn gathered overhead, thousands of little lights against the inky sky, brighter than the faint speck of stars that could break the clouds. They filled Viktor with a deep sense of foreboding, as if his body knew the great unspeakable truth he refused to give voice. For they did not centre around their group as a whole, but around him, drifting and swirling around him with movements that appeared curious.
Rook gaped up at the riftspawn, her face awash in colour. “Huh. It’s kind of pretty.”
“As nice as it all is, should we maybe get moving?”
She glanced at Kilai. “I want to check the rift first.”
“I don’t think we have time. You already said you don’t know how to fix it.”
Viktor nodded, albeit mostly for selfish reasons. He did not want to go back down that tunnel, nor confront the strange things happening to him here.
“But we’re here and there might be something we can do.”
“Like what?”
Rook met her gaze for a long moment before her shoulders finally slumped. “Fine. We should––”
Her words were lost to the shrill howl of the wind emerging from the tunnel. Thrust backwards a few steps by the force, Viktor planted his feet to stop himself from falling over, throwing an arm up to shield his eyes. The wind sucked the very breath from his lungs and he gasped in air like a man dying, eyes streaming. Overhead the sky rumbled with the first grumblings of thunder.
They waited on baited breath for the being to emerge from the depths of the temple, the moment stretching out so long it felt like the tension was wearing him thin. When left to idle the imagination could be a merciless beast.
The figure that breached the darkness looked far more human than he had imagined, not particularly tall or broad, and without the kind of gait that made him think threat. No, this man had a quiet presence; the kind that would easily fade into the background were he not the only person that side of the chasm. His coat, tattered and ripped, was the familiar indigo of a Sonlin soldier, and it was only then that Viktor thought he might have seen this man before, back at the Order and when he’d fought the Gorgei for the first time.
“What are you doing?” Rook shouted over the wind.
It was only then that the man seemed to take notice of them, pausing to stare. Completely tranquil in the midst of the storm around him, his blank gaze sent shivers down Viktor’s spine. Two dark trails marred his cheeks; dried tears of blood.
“You are Seeker, aren’t you?” said Kilai. “What happened to you?”
Viktor frowned, anxious as to how he might react to the news of his dead colleague.
“I am not the man you met before,” he said, and his voice was the roar of the wind itself. “I am the one who has opened the rift. I will open all the rifts until our two worlds are one.”
Our? Viktor thought to himself.
At the same time Rook pushed forward against the wind. “I can’t let you do that.”
“You will not stop me. I am the Storm Lord now.”
This stopped her in her tracks. Apparently this meant something to her. “How is that possible?”
“How is your bond possible, Rook?” His arms spread wide. “How is any of this possible? There are forces beyond your understanding at work here.”
“Who am I speaking to?”
The laugh from his lips deepened until the air seemed to tremble with it. “I already told you. The Storm Lord, the one who once controlled the currents of this world’s tempests. Look inside yourself, if you are not too afraid. You know who I am and what I can do.”
“How did you get through?”
“Piece by piece. Gradually the rift began to wear and unguarded there was no one to fix it. Now that this one is open, the others will follow suit.”
Viktor was beginning to feel light-headed from the quick breaths of air he was able to steal between gusts of wind. “Why?” he said. “Why do you want to do this?” He didn’t know who he was addressing, the question rising unbidden from his lips.
“I will bring the worlds together as one. As they were meant to be. We have been sleeping for too long and now we awaken.”
“We?” asked Kilai, rising shakily to her feet.
“We. You aren’t so naïve as to think I am the only one to enter this realm, are you?” His eyes swivelled to Viktor and stayed there, head cocked. “Who are you?”
“No one.”
“No, that is not true.”
Viktor shivered, feeling the blank stare strip him bear.
“You do not see it, do you? That is fine. I can help you with that.”
Open your eyes. Viktor jumped. The words were coming from all around him, on the soft sigh of the wind, in the shrill whistle of air moving through the chasm, from inside his very mind. Open your eyes. He clutched his head but he couldn’t get the words out. Pressure was building inside of him, something dangerous threatening to overflow from within.
“Stop it!” he cried. “Stop!”
Rook leapt towards Seeker, drawing the blades from her back. “Leave him! I won’t let you continue!”
Open your eyes.
Seeker did not move an inch, calmly waiting for her move. “How will you do so, Rook, when you fear your own power?”
To illustrate his taunt, she was unable to reach him, a sudden gust of air smacking into her and sending her careening backwards. Rook rolled to a stop, sprawled over the vines and tiles of the chasm floor, groaning. Kilai helped her back up, the two of them crouching behind the shelter of a pillar.
Open your eyes.
“You cannot live your life in fear of what you possess.”
Lightning shattered the midnight sky, briefly illuminating the chasm in white light. Seeker began to walk towards him and Viktor took a few reflexive steps back, eyes darting between the man before him and his footing between the net of vines.
“Why are you all so afraid?”
The last word was punctuated by a blood-curling wail, the ground beneath his feet quivering beneath the sheer force of the tempest’s might. Around him the old stone crumbled and cracked, threatening to cave in on the temple beneath. Viktor fell to his haunches, grasping fingers scraping against tile as rain began to fall, ice cold pinpricks against his flushed skin.
Open your eyes, still echoed through his head, clouding his thoughts. Open your eyes. The slumbering beast beneath was waking. He was struck by the image of an eye cracking open to a slit of bright green, smoke pluming through the air. Only when Viktor physically opened his eyes there was no smoke, but the raging storm. Yet it no longer affected him as it had before, able to draw in lungfuls of air that sparked the fire coursing in his veins.
He felt calm now. As if nothing could touch him. Straightening to his full height, Viktor faced the man in front of him; former soldier turned being of the beyond. An image of another man stole his vision for the space of a heartbeat, a glass shard of memory reflecting the mirror’s image in the length it took to fall. It showed a proud man in fine clothes and crown, his posture revealing a truth Viktor had not dared to face.
But now he did.
“Stop me then, Storm Lord. If you think that you can.”
The head cocked again, considering. “You are realising the trut
h, then. Yes, good.” A slow smile spread across his face.
It started with the faintest flicker of green flame in his palm, before the flames spread up his arms, engulfing his torso, racing down his legs, and wreathing his head in a crown of flame. The flames did not burn; it wasn’t that kind of fire.
“Viktor…” said Rook, her eyes wide.
The symbols etched into the temple walls began to glow the same shade of green, the colour of forest leaves and seawater in the bay. The temple itself was responding to the sheer spiritual power that he exuded, singing the song of reunion. Had he been here before, at some point? It was as if the rift below knew him and welcomed his return with the comfort of gentle waves rolling into the shore, the hum of power following that same in and outtake of breath, tuning itself to his rhythm.
I could use this power, he thought, feeling giddy on the thought. I could take it all. The rift, the thousands of spirits dancing around him, answering to his beck and call. All at his disposal. A large part of him thirsted to use it, to take as much as he possibly could and see what he could do with it. But a smaller voice in his head warned him of what would happen if he did so.
Remember. Remember what came before.
“Viktor!” Rook cried as she sprang to her feet.
Open your eyes.
The storm subsided, the wind trickling down to the softest tickle against his skin. “You are beyond even what I assumed.” As the last breeze died, the man crumpled to the floor in a heap.
“Viktor!” Rook stood before him, still staring as if she could not believe her eyes. “Viktor, look at me!”
He could feel it now; the power within her. Lurking beneath her exterior was a darker presence that tried to wrest control even as she stood there. It called to Viktor, to the fire inside him, and threatened to tip him over the edge.
“Can you hear me? Tell me your name.”
My name. What is my name?
So much energy crackled inside him it was like its own storm roaring through his veins, blood pounding so hard it echoed in his ears. I can’t get rid of it, he realised. The thought dawned on him with the inevitability of the rising sun, and he felt fear devour him. That power needed somewhere to go and the longer he held onto it, the more volatile it grew.
“I can’t control it! I don’t know how to!”
Rook held her palms up. “All right. All right. Viktor breathe.” She slowly reached out, as if to a cornered animal, and took his hands in hers. When skin met skin she gasped, nearly releasing him, the contact sparking between them.
“I can’t,” he gritted out, mentally trying to grapple with energy that refused to be contained, swelling larger and larger. “I can’t do it!”
Rook’s eyes started to glow, the same pale grey as before as she drew forth The Rook. With fresh eyes he could see the ghostly outline of the great beast around her; a huge albino bird with gleaming eyes and outstretched wings. It carried its own signature energy, something frantic and harried, as if desperate to escape the confines of Rook’s physical body.
Human jam jars, indeed.
“Breathe, Viktor. Breathe with me.” Her hand pressed down on his, energy flowing between them, clashing; fighting for dominance. Viktor’s natural rhythm was slower, deeper, and the pace of Rook’s signature pulled him in until he was setting the flow of his energy to hers, even as every instinct had him bucking away from it. “Settle down. That’s it. Match it to your breath.”
In. He inhaled deeply, feeling the tide of flame recede. Out. He exhaled in one steady breath, and the flames flared out again. Viktor repeated this pattern to the soothing tone of her voice with the soft trace of her accent sweeping over the words, until he felt the lid slam back over that staggering power.
More exhausted than ever, he felt his limbs give out and was saved from crashing to the ground by Rook’s arm around his waist. Another flash of a vision appeared in his memory, of a girl with flames dancing in her green eyes, painted lips pulled into a smirk. Anger like he had never felt in his life burned within and it terrified him how much he felt it resonate with him. The feeling that this anger was justified, even if he did not know why he was angry.
“You still with me?”
Viktor shifted onto his feet, leaning against Rook to support himself. “Something is happening to me.”
“I know it is, buddy. I know. Come on, let’s get you back.”
Kilai appeared before them. “What do we do about the soldier?”
“I don’t think we have any choice but to leave him.”
Kilai pursed her lips, glancing back at him.
“Listen, if you want to carry him then be my guest. I have enough with this lump here.” Rook patted Viktor’s head but he didn’t have the strength to swat her away. He gave her a good glare though, and hoped that would sufficiently portray his irritation.
“What if he decides to strike the city?”
“I don’t think he will. This riftspawn seeks to open the rifts, not harm your city.”
Kilai ducked under Viktor’s other arm and helped prop him up, her shorter stature compared to Rook leaving him lopsided as the three of them trudged back to the chasm wall. Riftspawn still lingered, though in small swathes as opposed to the swarm from before. Some followed their awkward three-legged party but kept enough distance that Viktor detected a sense of wariness. Odd, he thought, that he could sense some personality from these creatures now.
“Who am I?”
From the corner of his eye he saw Rook’s gaze flick away. “I don’t know if I can answer that for you. Don’t you remember?” She directed his hand to a sturdy vine and waited beneath him as he began to climb.
“I… I’m just your average gutter rat,” he said, and felt the sting of a truth become a lie.
“Yes, I’m sure the average gutter rat is able to produce green fire and light up an ancient temple of a long dead religion.”
Viktor turned his glare on Kilai, still on the ground below. “It’s not like I knew I could do that.”
By the time he reached the top he felt like he could barely keep himself upright, sprawling out on the ground to watch the first blush of sunrise stain the sky with lavender and pink. Rook prodded him with a boot and he groaned, but she had already trod away by the time he wrenched enough control over his limbs to bat at her. The weight on his shoulders was too heavy for his weary body, so he shut his eyes and let himself doze in idle rebellion.
In his last moments of consciousness, he became aware with a sudden and startling sense of clarity of the world around him; the way the grass tickled his skin, and the soft cadence of its breath as the breeze swept through it. Of the birds circling on high, dots against a rippled sky between increasingly heavier blinks, and the way their cries travelled from his right ear to his left as they passed him by. Of the full-body shiver that racked him as the blistering heat of the jungle was finally punctured, the last effort that sent him over the edge into slumber.
Part 3: The Escape
“Where is he?”
Kilai scraped back the hair that had fallen from her bun. “I’m not the one with a spirit bond.”
Rook shot her a pointed look. “That is not how this works.”
“He probably went back to the boat. We should go there.”
A huff escaped Rook as she hoisted Viktor up so he didn’t fall from her shoulders. “I don’t think I can carry him that far.”
“Janus is kind of reedy, anyway. I don’t think he’d be able to help you.”
“Sorry, buddy.” Rook lay Viktor down with a sigh, stretching out her arms and cricking her neck. “He’s surprisingly heavy.”
Kilai peered down at Viktor’s sleeping face and mentally cursed him. Var Kunir knew what had become of her city now that the rift had ruptured – riftspawn swarmed around them even now, swirling and tangling in wreathes of colour – and more importantly, to her father on his deathbed. It took the taste of coppery blood on her tongue for her to realise she’d been biting her lip, cons
umed with the wildest plots concocted by her imagination, each more anxiety-inducing than the last. Would she return to find the city full of mindless hosts? Would Dakanan and his men try to usurp power from her father now that she’d failed the one task she’d set out to complete?
“Can’t we just leave him here?”
Rook crossed her arms. “No. Definitely not. And stop pacing, we’ll get back soon.”
“It’s not your city.”
“No, it’s not. Believe me, I am aware of that,” she said mildly, examining her braid. “But don’t assume you’re the only one who hears the ticking of the clock. Dancing to that rhythm would be to dance the firebug.” She wrinkled her nose. “That does not translate very well. It means… a false sense of progress.”
“There is no progress!” Her ire drained at Rook looking away, mouth twisting. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t take my anger out on you.”
“You are afraid. It is understandable.”
“I don’t like feeling helpless.” Even the sun seemed to be against her, warming the sky with the first blush of morning. “There has to be something we can do.”
Grey eyes flicked to Viktor, to the decaying trunk of a fallen tree, and then to the spirits around them. “There might be something we can do.”
Kilai crossed her arms as Rook closed her eyes. Riftspawn swooped in lower circles, beginning to drift around her head. Her eyes shot open, glowing with white light, and in the blink of an eye she snatched one from the air, thrusting it down towards the fallen log. The log began to shine with a dim orange light from within, the shape shimmering and shuddering. Rook’s hand was still planted on the lichen-slick surface, her own smoky aura meeting that of the riftspawn inside the log.
Kilai didn’t understand what was happening. Even after all she had seen, she was still taken aback as the wood bent and cracked, hollowing out in the middle. Flaps of bark peeled back and pushed against the mossy ground, until the wood resembled something like a tentative carriage for a person.
The Broken Door Page 25