The Broken Door

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The Broken Door Page 32

by Sarah Stirling


  Could he do it again? Viktor gazed out at the ship in the distance and tried to remember the feeling from before. He could feel the flow of energy, so it would only require directing it down the right channel, and if he concentrated he thought he could send it where he wanted––

  The energy nearly spilled out of him when a hand clamped down on his shoulder and he turned to see the gravity in Janus’ eyes. Water dripped down his nose, hair matted against his pale skin, and his breath came out in a misty cloud. When did it get so cold? It was as if the heat had been snatched from the air, leaving it frigid and damp. “I was just trying to––”

  “Don’t,” said Janus, eyes flicking ahead. “Might be able to get help.”

  “We don’t know who it is.”

  “Exactly. We don’t know.”

  Viktor slumped, suddenly exhausted. It was so cold and his shirt was plastered to his skin. Locker knew what was left of his waistcoat that he’d been so proud of. There would be no saving it now. If there was any saving him, that was.

  “What now?”

  Janus shrugged and hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “She said there’s no avoiding them.”

  “So it’s a roll of the dice?”

  Janus swept back stringy hair. “I’m pretty good with chance.”

  Viktor glared at him, feeling the tension creep back over him. The riftspawn still hovered around him, lighting up the darkness with their colourful lights. There was no way they could sneak past the ship’s notice now with the way they were a beacon in the night. Best to be prepared in case, he thought, keeping hold of the energy flowing through him and letting it grow, burning his insides. It helped stave off the worst of the cold but didn’t alleviate his motion sickness. He staggered into Janus a few times, trying not to look too sheepish as he unhooked clawed hands from his arm.

  The ship grew closer and he realised it was a small two-masted schooner, struggling through the waves much as they were. He could see lights on the deck and faces peering over as they came closer. Viktor was up to his knees in water by this point and more than willing to climb aboard to the arms of the enemy if it meant he didn’t have to drown.

  The boat swerved at the hands of a particularly vicious current and brought them close enough that he could hear a voice call out to them as he waved his hands in the air. “Help! Help us, please!”

  “Who are you, now? What’s all them lights?”

  There wasn’t any kind of real explanation he could give. His mouth opened and closed, glancing around him. Could he tell them to leave?

  “Bioluminescence,” said Janus.

  The man squinted. “You what, now?”

  “Please!” called Kilai. “Before the storm takes us away!”

  There was a moment’s pause and then a rope was thrown out to them, landing just shy of the boat. Janus plucked it from the water, nearly toppling over as he reached out. Viktor had to yank him back until they both fell in a heap in a puddle of deepening water at the bottom of the boat, water splashing. They used the rope to haul them towards the schooner where they could climb the flimsy rope ladder up onto the deck of the boat. Rook managed with Janus’ help, Kilai following after, leaving the four of them surrounded by a strange crew all peering at them from the shadows. The only light source came from the lantern held by the man he presumed to be the captain, with an old, wizened face and cheeks that caved beneath taut cheekbones.

  Murmurs arose from the sailors as riftspawn began to follow them, gathering around in clusters of light. They backed into each other in an attempt to get away and Viktor met the narrowing stare of the captain, his mouth twisting in a grimace.

  “’m not interested in entertaining you spirit folks, you hear? Nothing good ever came of it.”

  “Spirit folks?” said Viktor and Rook at the same time. He met her gaze, concerned with the way she was barely holding herself upright, legs shaking.

  “Aye. You ones that speak to the beasties around us. Don’t think I haven’t noticed there’s more of them this time around. Heard all the stories I have. Ain’t having no possessions on this ship.”

  The murmurs rose to barks of protests, more than one pistol leaving the belts of the sailors. Viktor gulped and looked around him. “That’s not…”

  “No? Spoke to an old seadog back in Tokkashan and I heard it true. Whole crew turned mindless slaves to these things inside their skulls.” He tapped his forehead with a bent finger. “And there was a witch controlling them all, like they was her dogs. Var Kunir come again, they said. Don’t want none of that here, eh?”

  “So what? You’ll leave us to the storm?” he snapped. He saw their eyes widen with fear and then suddenly burst into action, pulling out cutlasses, knives, and other weapons. The captain staggered back, lantern light reflecting in his widened eyes.

  “Viktor,” murmured Rook and he looked down at the green flames crackling in his palm.

  He snatched his hand back, stifling the fire. He hadn’t meant to do it. It wasn’t his fault. Why did everyone have to look at him like he was some kind of monster? He tried to raise his hands in defence of his innocence.

  “Back off, you pjurrei.”

  They all stood around staring at one another, the rain pelting the deck. The riftspawn circled him, stirring with the promise of violence in the air, or perhaps just his own tempestuous emotions. He was so tense he felt like a firework about to explode, all of that energy devouring him, hungry for release. In the eyes of the sailors he only saw hate and disgust.

  Kilai stepped forward. “Could I convince you to keep us if I told you that there was a significant sum for his safe arrival to port?”

  Viktor reeled, staring at her with a gaping mouth.

  She held up a hand to silence him. “That man there is a wanted criminal. There’s a significant price on his head if he’s taken in alive.”

  The captain’s eyes flashed but he remained wary, angling himself away. “And why would you go about telling me that, eh?”

  Kilai began to reply, but was cut off by another voice as a figure parted the crowd of sailors. “Viktor?”

  His heart skipped a beat. Eyes roaming a familiar pockmarked face with shining eyes, he took an automatic step forward. “You-You’re alive.”

  Red’s face broke into a grin. “I am. It’s nice to see you made it, too.” The man engulfed him in a hug, hand patting him on the back before drawing back. “How did you manage to get out?” His eyes brushed past him to Kilai, Rook and Janus.

  Viktor shrank back, excuses tumbling around his brain. “I tried to help fight but it was too late. I ran. I’m sorry.”

  Red’s hand remained on his shoulder, a heavy weight. “You did the right thing. This is all that’s left of us now.”

  Viktor’s eyes swept over the bedraggled troupe of sailors and other men and women – rebels, he realised – no more than thirty of them gathered on the swaying deck. So many faces he once knew, now gone. It was hard to imagine, out in the black of the rolling ocean, that the life he once knew was gone. To know he didn’t even have the option to go back daunted him. The only direction open to him now was the choppy horizon, which still threatened death upon the storm.

  “You know this boy?” said the captain, squinting at him in the light of his lantern.

  “Aye, Yigor. We owe our lives to him.”

  Some of the sailors tittered, looking about themselves, but Red didn’t elaborate. Viktor saw knowing in his eyes and didn’t know what to say. Sorry that he was a monster? That he had left them all behind to be executed in Nirket? What was there to say?

  “Isn’t this girl with the bluecoats?” piped up a sailor.

  Another agreed, anger in her eyes as they pressed forwards.

  Yigor swung his lantern around, metal creaking. “This true?”

  Viktor stepped in front of her. “Does it matter? We’re all allies here.”

  Red frowned. “She did support them in rooting us out. I’m curious as to why she’s here.”

 
“She’s in just as much trouble with them as we are. It’s not fair––”

  “If I may?” Kilai cut in. Skirt torn, face dirty, and hair a mass thicket of curls, she still held herself as a lady. Viktor believed it.

  Red motioned for her to continue.

  “I did what I had to, in order to survive. My actions were made in the effort try and protect Nirket and the rest of Saikuro from the Sonlin forces. I fought Dakanan on every decision he tried to implement and tried to be the voice of the people when they showed little regard. Your churches still stand because I stood in the way of their removal. Your livelihoods are still intact because I swayed them from conscription.” Her voice rose over the wind. “Your lives would have been much worse without me there to fight your cause, believe me.”

  Yigor looked as if he had tasted something unpleasant, mouth twisted in a scowl. Red’s face was impassive; inscrutable. The other sailors appeared hesitant, shuffling and looking to their captain for his verdict.

  Kilai reached into shirt and produced a pouch that jangled as she held it up. “A little contribution to show my gratitude for your daring rescue.” She tossed it to him and Yigor swiped the pouch from the air, examining it with knobbly fingers. He counted under his breath and then shrugged. With a flick of his finger, he summoned one of the sailors to him. “Show these folks to a room.”

  Viktor blinked, still waiting for a fight that didn’t come.

  “Thank you,” said Kilai, nodding her head at Yigor.

  Yigor nodded back and then turned towards the stern.

  Before he followed the sailor Viktor spared another glance at Red who was still watching them with an expression he couldn’t discern. Those eyes still lingered even as he descended the staircase; a promise of further talks to come.

  *

  “Can you hear me?”

  Rook groaned, searching through the haze for clarity, blinking in the gloomy light of… a ship. The ship they had came upon in the storm, some time ago. She had lost all sense of it; could barely orientate herself as the ship rocked from side to side, the sound of dripping water distracting her.

  A hand waved in her face. “Rook? How are you feeling?”

  Her tongue was plastered against the roof of her mouth and she winced, blinking up at Kilai. “What happened?”

  “We’re on our way to Yllaizlo. Provided this old thing can survive the storm, that is. But I dare say we’ll fare better in this than we would have in the dinghy.”

  “Mm,” she mumbled. “Water?”

  Kilai handed her a canteen and she snatched it, sloppily gulping it down and relishing in the way it soothed her parched throat. She wiped her mouth and attempted to sit but was struck with dizziness, falling into Kilai’s arms. Pain seared through her side, hot and blistering. Yet somehow she shivered.

  “Where’s the boys?” It was difficult to focus. Her eyes were drawn to the beams of light falling from holes in the wood above, a few riftspawn swirling around the light. She tried to draw them in but she couldn’t access that well inside of her and she nearly cried out at the loss.

  “Huh? What did you say?”

  “Janus is snooping around, I believe.” Kilai paused, looking away, the frail light revealing deep circles beneath her eyes. “Viktor is with his friend.”

  Snippets of the conversation on deck came back to her. “You were going to use him as our leverage for safe passage!”

  Kilai scrubbed her eyes. “I had to think quickly. Honestly I’m counting my blessings that we came upon rebel sympathisers. It could have been far more disastrous than this.”

  “Not just rebel sympathisers.”

  Rook glanced up at Janus standing in the doorway, holding something she couldn’t make out in the gloom. He strode forward and dropped it into her hands. She held it up to her eye line, frowning at the dried leaves that crumbled in her hand. “What is it?”

  “A hallucinogenic. Will help with the pain. And against Sonlin regulations.” His grin was sharp. “We’re not the only ones hiding things it would seem.”

  It tasted bitter on her tongue and she nearly choked as she tried to chew it down. “Bleh, that’s awful. Is it supposed to be that bad?”

  “An acquired taste, I’ve been informed.”

  “Did you know?” Kilai asked, frowning at him.

  He shrugged. “Had my suspicions. Need a reason to leave harbour with a storm coming. Otherwise they’d have been better hiding in the mountains.”

  Rook looked between them, feeling like her head was filling with air. “I feel strange.” She found it hard to focus on them again, eyes dancing around the forecastle of the ship.

  Kilai crossed her arms. “Did you have to give her that?”

  “Bet she feels better now.”

  “Mm,” echoed Rook, fascinated by the way her fingers were warping. “I’m melting!”

  “I swear if we make it out alive I’m going to shoot you with your own damned gun.”

  Janus snorted and folded his limbs atop a crate, a spark of flame illuminating the sharp angles of his face as he lit his cigarette. The smoke wreathed around him, morphing and twisting into ugly faces. Rook gasped and pointed as they grew larger, nearly falling over as she overbalanced.

  “Janus! You have riftspawn all around you! I have to help!”

  An instinctual part of her connected to The Rook as she attempted to draw the malicious spirits away from him. She tried to grab at one of her blades but her limbs were ungainly and she felt like she was moving through treacle. Riftspawn were drawn to the beacon of energy that she became, flitting around her, but somehow she could not draw away the smoky creatures surrounding Janus.

  “Look what you’ve done now,” she heard Kilai say.

  “I’m fine, Rook,” he said, blowing more smoke and making the faces grow in size.

  “No, no. Look! Right there.” How couldn’t they see? She stumbled a few times before she got to her feet, swaying. “I’ll get them.”

  “Put those away! I can’t believe either of you!”

  The floor jerked and Rook stumbled, falling onto her knees. Janus swore and stomped his foot on the ground as a barrel rolled past her and crashed into the wall. She blinked, looking up past her hair, but everything was swirling in weird shapes, as if the ordinary rules of the world no longer applied and everything had lost its shape. It was almost like what she’d heard of the otherworld. Dazed and disorientated, she scrambled about on the ground until Janus grabbed her hand and hauled her to her feet.

  “What’s going on? And why are all these things circling around us now?”

  “They’re not things!”

  “Think its Rook. Hallucinogenic might have been a bad idea.”

  Kilai had a truly impressive glare. It made you want to hang your head and beg for forgiveness. “You think so?”

  She looked like she was going to say more but was cut off by the shouts from sailors overhead. Janus took off, hauling her with him, and for one horrified moment she thought her hand had went through his arm. She yanked it back, staring at it until they reached the stairs by the ship’s galley. On the deck the sailors were gathered around the port side of the ship, some pointing out at the sea.

  “Ooh, pretty!” she exclaimed as she stared out at the radiant form of a riftbeast, one of the creatures that was neither spirit nor human but something in between, much like the dragon that had carried them to the site of the rift. This beauty had once been a whale but the form had grown and elongated, multiple fins extending from the original fins at its side. Its formed glowed a with a rose coloured light, as if lit from within, and it was swimming alongside the boat, dwarfing it by several meters. “Am I still hallucinating?”

  “No,” Kilai breathed, eyes wide.

  “Probably. But if it’s the whale… thing. It’s there.”

  The captain turned to them with narrowed eyes. “I told you I didn’t want none of this spirit nonsense.”

  “Don’t worry,” breathed Rook as she rushed to the railin
g, barely registering the way they scattered in her presence, “it’s completely harmless. I think.” She threw them a sheepish look over her shoulder. “My head is a little backwards right now. But I think it was attracted to all the rift-ly energy. It’s just curious.” She wriggled her fingers in front of her face, fascinated by the motion.

  “You’re like a bleeding lighthouse!” exclaimed the captain.

  “Huh?” She glanced around herself, noticing the entourage of riftspawn following, illuminating the night sky. Their presence was comforting when all her physical senses were currently betraying her, the wood beneath her hands bubbling and melting. Expecting it to be hot, she snapped her hands back with a yelp. Her side felt so itchy but she couldn’t get to the irritation beneath layers of clothes and cloth. Yanking at her offending clothing, she huffed as she lost of command of her limbs.

  Kilai tugged her shirt back down. “Please refrain from that.” A few of the sailors were whistling.

  “You don’t look so good.”

  “Yes, and you are quite the painting yourself.”

  Rook snorted, the sound turning into full body giggles. “Better watch I don’t get cut on your tongue.” For some reason she found that hilarious and she stuck her tongue out at Kilai, delighted by the horrified expression it elicited.

  “Janus, give me your gun right now.”

  Janus looked between them. “Only got one bullet left.”

  “It’ll be worth it.”

  “And here I thought we were friends!”

  “What is going on here?” said Viktor, eyes widening. A groan passed his lips. “What is that? Can’t we go one day without these things showing up?”

 

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