A series of cheers rang up from the rebels around him. Viktor didn’t see any faces he immediately recognised but he slumped against the wall, a small smile on his lips. They were alive. They were alive because he had saved them.
Rook was still staring out to sea in horror, her mouth wide open and pieces of hair sticking to her face. “How…?”
When she turned towards him he cringed away from the look on her face until his back was to the wall. The presence in his mind had weakened but it was still difficult to think under the haze of fatigue. “I don’t know.” His voice was so small it was nearly lost on the wind.
Some of the rebels were gathering around them but his vision was blurring and he couldn’t make them out, voices muffled as if he was underwater. A shrill ringing echoed through his head and he thunked his head back against the stone, desperately gasping for air.
“We need to go,” Rook said into his ear as a hand grasped his upper arm and hauled him up. Viktor was so weak she had to place his arm over her neck and drag him away.
“Think ‘m going to––”
“No! Viktor, don’t you dare!”
It was the last thing he remembered hearing.
*
Rook could barely carry Viktor, even drawing on that little bit of strength from her well of power. She hauled him up her back and crouched down by the wall whilst a horde of soldiers charged into the fort. Her heart leapt into her chest as two broke off to patrol the perimeter, coming towards where she and Viktor were pressed into a corner.
She would have to fight them. And she’d have to be quiet while doing it. A part of her was still numb after witnessing what Viktor had just done. She’d never seen power like it. Could barely restrain herself from leaving him out of fear of what he could do. But she couldn’t leave him. Viktor was a scared and lonely kid, as scared of what was happening to him as she had been, back when she’d first bonded with The Rook. As much as she detested doing it, Rook let her instinct take over, listening to the sound of two sets of footsteps approach.
The first flash of indigo was her signal to spin out and pull the first soldier towards her, arm slinging around his neck to choke off his airway. She used his body as a shield as his partner attempted to shoot her, scrambling with his pistol in surprise. The man in her arms slumped to the ground and she swung out, cracking the second across the face. He staggered back, wiping blood from his lips, and looked as if he might call for help. In a flash she was on him, knocking him to the ground and clobbering him over the head until his eyes rolled back and his body went limp.
A series of gunshots from inside the fort reminded her there was no time for guilt. Nevertheless, she allowed herself one last look back before she slipped away, Viktor draped over her shoulders and weighing her down as she tried to keep hidden. She followed the secret passageway Kilai had told her about down to the cove that they had departed from to reach the rift. Her whole body felt on the brink of collapse but she pushed on.
By the time she reached the black sand she was panting heavily and she dropped Viktor to the ground with little aplomb, padding out to the water. From this vantage point she couldn’t see the wreckage of the ship but it didn’t stop the memory of the explosion playing before her eyes. Was she really doing the right thing by protecting Viktor? Such power could be devastating and she had a position of responsibility. Maybe it was her duty to prevent such power from ever existing in this world. But when she looked at him she felt her heart lurch. In the time she had been in Nirket, she felt like they had become friends. Perhaps it was naïve of her, but she couldn’t find it in herself to hurt him.
The cool water she splashed on her face was a soothing balm for her mind. She wiped her sodden hair back, feeling the ocean breeze against her skin. She had made her decision and there was no going back now. Perhaps it was selfish to hope that she could help Viktor but if she couldn’t then what would it mean for her? She didn’t want to be doomed to slavery of the mind. She could control The Rook, just as Viktor could learn to control whatever beast he had somehow bonded. That was the only truth she was willing to accept.
She marched over to where Kilai had hidden the small wooden dingy they’d used to get back from the island and tugged it next to Viktor. Even from across the water she could feel the soft pulsing of the rift in the island’s heart and knew she’d already failed one task. She could not fail again.
Biting her lip, she studied Viktor’s prone form, chest mercifully rising and falling despite how leached of colour his bronze skin looked. The sunken depths beneath his eyes gave him the appearance of a man on his deathbed. Rook feared leaving him but she also knew they had a better chance of getting away with Kilai’s help. Besides, they had made a promise to one another and Rook prided herself in keeping her vows.
“Sorry buddy,” she said to Viktor, trying to shield him with the boat, “but there’s still work to be done.”
Somehow she was going to have to sneak back into the city, find Kilai in the shark’s den, and then get both of them back to the cove. Rook allowed herself a sigh, taking a moment just to let the day’s events drain from the forefront of her mind, and then steeled her resolve. They had a job to do, and it was bigger even than the mess on the horizon.
*
Rook took her time picking her route back into the city, partly due to flashes of indigo like warning beacons that had her fleeing through the tight winding back alleys, and partly due to her deepening exhaustion. Her reflexes were duller than they’d ever been. She scrambled through the city, feeling resolve weaken with every body that she passed in the streets. The vision of their open eyes staring lifeless into the sky remained imprinted behind her lids long after she passed.
She nearly made it to Shanku Square by going around the back of lanes and entering from the western side but was stopped by voices ringing out in the deathly quiet of the afternoon. Clinging to the deepening shadows, Rook crept along the side of a building until she could glimpse into the square, to where there was a formation of bluecoats around the clock tower. A stand had been set up, little more than a block of wood. One of the soldiers prodded a grubby woman onto the platform, tears streaking her face as she stumbled. Most of the conversation was lost to the distance but she caught snippets of ‘traitor’ and ‘murderer’.
The situation dawned on her just a heartbeat too late and the shock of the gunshot was all that kept Rook from crying out as the woman fell forward from the force of the blast, crashing to the stone as blood pooled around her. Two bluecoats dragged her away as the next man frantically resisted being thrust onto that dreadful stage.
It wasn’t right. Rebels they might have been, but they were still citizens who deserved a trial at the very least. Execution without a trial was simply murder and yet the bluecoat read off a list of supposed crimes as if he were listing off supplies, expression of such a casual disdain it angered her. It was as if these deaths meant nothing. As if these people were not even human.
She had to do something. There wasn’t much Rook could do against so many – and she would risk exposing herself even if she didn’t die instantly – but she couldn’t just stand there either. Slipping a dagger from her sheath, she peered around the corner of the wall, bracing herself for action, when a tight grip dragged her back and something clamped over her mouth.
Rook ducked low and used her body’s momentum to flip her captor over her back. With a graceful twist that would make a cat envious, Janus landed on his feet and pushed her into the shelter of the wall, a finger to her lips.
“Janus!” she breathed. “Did you have to sneak up on me?”
“You were about to do something very stupid,” he said, glancing back towards the square.
“I knew things were bad but I didn’t think…”
His expression grew severe. “Did you find Viktor?”
“Yes. Did you see it?”
“A little. They’re looking for him.”
She flinched as another shot rang through the square. �
��He’s safe. As much as he can be. I don’t know what he is. I don’t know that…” I can help him.
“One thing at a time.”
Rook nodded. “Right. I came for Kilai.”
“You’ll never get to her now. It would be best––”
“We made a promise, Janus.” She stared him down despite the way his dark eyes ripped her open. “I keep mine.”
For too long he remained unmoving. Finally, his stiff posture melted and he nodded. “You have a plan.”
“I rather think plan is too strong a word,” she said, moving away from the sounds of men dying. How he could look so nonchalant about it, she didn’t know. His must have been a sad story, she thought. “I’m hoping I can use our failure at the riftsite to our advantage.”
Janus looked at her.
“See, where we stand right now is in a place where the physical realm and the spiritual are bleeding together.”
“Think you mentioned that.”
“Yes, well, it’s theorised that where the connection is strongest there reaches a kind of critical mass, where we exist in a realm in between.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that – in theory – some of the rules of the otherworld apply to this one. Possibly.”
“Possibly?”
“Possibly.”
“That’s a lot to stake on a ‘possibly’.”
“Yes.”
Janus shrugged. “Do what you will. Just do it quickly.”
“I’ll need some kind of view of the tower. Which room is she likely to be in? Her office?”
“Her father’s room. This way.”
Rook followed him through a perilous route that took them closer to the commotion in the square than she really wanted to be. Janus had taken her back to the building they had hidden in to watch over the tower, only to now find it swarmed with bluecoats ransacking it, chairs stacked in broken piles. Her heart skidded to a quicker halt than she did, Janus signalling to her to pass back the way they had come and then go over.
Perched atop one of the roofs and buffeted by the wind, Rook turned her watering eyes towards the tower. They crouched behind the peak of the ridge, her hold precarious on terracotta tiles. As unlikely as it was that anyone would look up, she felt too exposed like this, as if at any moment they could be spotted.
Janus scooted over to her right to get a better look at their position, somehow nimble despite the gun in his hand. Rook would have smiled but each gunshot had her grip tighten as an involuntary shudder passed her. She had little doubt that if they knew what she really was, she’d be down there too with a bullet saved just for her. The image caused her grip to tighten, palms slick with sweat.
Focus. She narrowed her gaze down to the tower across the way and drew upon the well inside her, connecting to The Rook just enough to spark her senses, feeling the way the realms were bleeding together from the source at the rift, somewhere to the east of her. It felt strange, to feel each thread of energy connected to everything around her, as if it was possible to give them the same tug she could with the riftspawn around her. Such a thing was possible in theory, but to actually do it in practice was another thing entirely.
Directing her senses towards the tower was difficult. It was harder to focus on one thing the farther she went and she had to use her vision to ground her, keeping her gaze locked on the tower as she imagined Kilai in her mind’s eye. She needed to send a message, short and succinct, and hope that she would be able to get out on her own. They had no chance of coming out alive if they went in to rescue her.
When she felt Kilai’s own signature – she could recognise it now after time spent with the woman – she plucked a loose tile from the roof and used it to scratch a symbol on another. Get out, was all it read. Her focus snapped at the sound of something crash against the roof, feeling the vibrations beneath her fingertips. The tile in her hand fell, clattering to the ground. She rolled out of the way as another bullet pierced the roof and scrambled up over the ridge, disorientated.
Shouts resounded from the other side, followed by footsteps down below. She couldn’t find Janus anywhere until she caught him waving at her from the ground, then pointing to the drainpipe. It looked far too reedy to carry her weight but Rook didn’t have much choice; the soldiers were pressing down on their location and there would be no mercy from them. She slid down the roof, caught the drainpipe and shimmied down, grooves tearing the skin on her hands. Jumping the last few feet, she crashed into Janus who steadied her with hands at her waist. Then they took off, clinging to the desperate refuge of the shadows.
She had always feared she’d be hunted like this one day. She had just assumed it would be because of something she had done.
*
The office was chaos. Kilai had watched from the window when the firing had stopped, peering over Dakanan and his minions as the battleship caught flame – strange, dancing green flames the likes of which she’d never seen – and then suddenly the whole thing had just exploded, raining down metal and wood into the sea. Even though she could scarcely believe it, she knew Viktor was responsible for such destructive power, and it made her shiver to know he’d been hiding that all this time. What she could have done with such power…
Kilai tore her mind from the thought. That was not the way she ought to think of such a thing, particularly not around a flutter of shocked westerners. Many had left in the fray, running out to the bay as if it would somehow change the wreckage in front of their very eyes. Dakanan had folded into his seat like a stack of cards, staring out the door without moving.
When she stood over his desk he finally glanced up, mouth still gaping, eyes hollow. It was as though the shock had shut him down completely and he no longer functioned. This was supposed to be their general? If this was how he reacted to what he was unprepared for he had no business trying to lead. Perhaps not all was lost for her.
“Don’t,” he said, holding up a hand. “Don’t say a thing. No, wait. Tell me what in the damnation just happened.”
“I thought I wasn’t supposed to say anything.”
He glared at her. “Don’t be glib. You don’t look too surprised.”
“Maybe I just react better to unforeseen circumstances than you do.”
“Or maybe you’re in on this and I’ll have your head for treason.”
They stared one another out, neither wanting to be the first to cave. Kilai saw it in his eyes – he could have her down in the square in a heartbeat with a bullet in her skull in the next. It infuriated her. This is my home, she wanted to scream. But she had to keep her head. It was all she had left.
“I don’t know what that was.”
“Horseshit you don’t, girl.”
She narrowed her eyes, leaning over the desk the way he had to her, revelling in the way his eyes widened for a just a moment. “I don’t. What I do know is that the world is changing in ways you won’t like. In ways that make what happened out there––” she stabbed her finger in the direction of the window “––all too possible. I ignored the warnings and I’m paying the price now. You will too.”
“That was a… person who did that?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Kilai wished she knew. It felt like everything she thought fact had been turned on its head and there was no way to know what was real anymore, like standing at the lip of some great abyss and gazing down into the unknown. They were all facing the same question now: could they handle what lay in the depths below?
Dakanan swore. The screech of wood against wood had her wincing as the respected war general fell backwards and toppled out of his chair. She followed his eyes and jumped as a small shape flitted through the air, swirling like a dust mote. Roughly the size of a burrowing crab, with a translucent silvery body shaped like a centipede, it swooped down towards them and twirled back up until it was eye level with her. After her initial fright she found that it didn’t alarm her and she reached out a curious hand, watching it scatter away f
rom her as if she were the one who was the real danger.
“Honestly, General. Am I supposed to believe you’re afraid of such a thing?”
She gestured to it as it plunged into her pot of ink and emerged black, shimmering like the night sky, as if it had become the black ink rather than just being coated with it.
Dakanan used the table to pull himself to his feet. “What in the Netherworld is it?”
“A riftspawn of some sort,” she said. “I could not tell you which.”
“Can it hurt us?”
She hesitated. “No.” Best not to incite any more panic, even if she enjoyed watching him flail. “I’m not sure about that one, though.”
Dakanan followed her finger and then flopped back against the desk with a yelp as a tremendous serpent-like spirit slithered past, head nearly the size of the entire window. He finally lowered his hand from where it was pressed over his heart and dragged it over his face. “I need to get out of this nightmare.”
He wasn’t the only one. Kilai took advantage of his confusion to slip out, past a group of harried soldiers, and into her father’s room. It wouldn’t be long now. Blood was splattered on the handkerchief pressed into his fist and his breaths were coming even quicker than before. She rushed over and tucked the blanket into his sides, keeping the heat in. His eyelids fluttered but he continued to slumber, mouth parted and lips cracked. She sat by his side, simply watching him sleep. Using a damp cloth, she wiped at his moist skin, running it gently over a face long imprinted into her memory. She had to choke back a sob.
“Rest now, Papa. I’ll take care of things.”
She felt each rattling breath in her own lungs. Would that she could take his pain now and let him die in peace. Not knowing what he could feel was torturous.
The Broken Door Page 28