Vortex Chronicles: The Complete Series (Air Awakens: Vortex Chronicles)

by Elise Kova

  “A sorcerer?” Jayme made an affirmative humming noise at Vi’s interjection. “Just what the South needs—needed—another sorcerer to hate.”

  “This was before the War of the Crystal Caverns,” Jayme reminded her. “I think most of the sorcerer hatred came from that.”

  “From all I’ve read, I’m inclined to agree,” Vi muttered. “So you’re not afraid, then?”

  “Oh I’m terrified.” Jayme shoved her hands in her pockets. “Of storms, and swells, and backstabbers, and pirates, and whatever awaits us on the Crescent Continent. But the one thing I’m not afraid of are ghosts.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Two more days passed before their time ran out.

  “Miss Yullia!”

  Vi was jerked awake with a rough shake of her shoulder. Samri stood at her bedside. “What is it?” Vi came instantly awake, pushing herself away from the nest of pillows.

  “We have to go,” Samri whispered hurriedly.

  In the lower floor of the manor, Vi heard loud voices. There was a commotion, complete with doors slamming and the rumble of booted feet. It was a wonder she’d slept through it at all.

  “What’s happening?”

  “There’s no time, please, come with me.” Samri held out a folded cloak. “There’s clothes at the docks. Wear this until you get there.”

  Vi stood at the edge of her bed, hurriedly donning the cloak and rubbing sleep from her eyes. “Samri—”

  She was cut short by a voice.

  “Vi?” Jayme called. There was a knock on the door. “Do you hear the commotion? Should we leave?”

  Vi opened the door quickly and motioned to Samri. “Already one step ahead of you.”

  “We must go,” Samri whispered, standing at a wall. One of the panels had been opened, a servant’s passage exposed. Vi wasn't even surprised by its presence.

  “Should we grab our things?” Jayme asked. She already had her sword strapped to her hip. Vi had the journal of maps and notes on the sea in hand. They’d each gone for their most precious items.

  “Samri said there are supplies at the docks,” Vi said as she hurriedly entered the open passage.

  “There’s no time,” Samri repeated, practically pleading. “Please, come.”

  Samri pulled the door closed behind them and latched it. There was already a candle flickering in a holder on the wall, and Samri slipped her finger through its ring before scuttling ahead. “This way, please.”

  Above them, Vi heard voices—men and women with the gruff militaristic tone of soldiers. She heard the words “princess” and “here,” but not enough else to make out much more. Vi frowned; they’d been outed. She was right from the start not to trust the staff. If she’d come out with her name to Erion sooner, perhaps they wouldn’t have even had the six days that passed.

  “Miss Yullia?” Samri whispered, barely more than a breath.

  “We’re coming,” Jayme answered for both of them, pulling Vi along and saving her from her thoughts.

  “Yes, sorry,” Vi breathed back.

  The hall finally opened into a dank basement. The light of the candle glistened off the slick sheen of damp on the walls and the slimy grime of the beams supporting the floor over their heads—a floor that rumbled and coughed dust with every heavy footfall.

  “Down here.” Samri pointed to a hatch before heaving it open. “Down the ladder—there’s only one path. It’ll take you out to the cliff. Head right and around, then down to the docks. Speak to no one but a man named Marcus at a ship called the Dawn Skipper.”

  Right. Down. Marcus. Dawn Skipper. Vi repeated the important parts in her mind and then gave a nod. It was easy enough to remember, given Jayme’s personal inquiries had already led them to the vessel once.

  “He’ll help you from there.”

  “Thank you.” Vi reached out and rested her hand on Samri’s white knuckles where they gripped the top of the hatch.

  “It wasn’t me,” she whispered as Jayme started down the ladder. “I wasn’t the one to betray you, princess.”

  “I know. I believe you.” Vi nodded and looked down at the ladder in the ominous black hole before her. Crouching, she gripped the top of the ladder and swung her feet down onto the third rung.

  “Fiarum Evantes.” Eternal flame, Vi roughly translated the Western phrase. Samri peered over the hatch. Uncle Jax had taught it to her and Vi had been delighted as a child to experiment with the strange words.

  “Kotun un Nox,” Vi responded quietly as the hatch closed overhead. Guide us through the night.

  She clung to the ladder a moment, her heart racing. It was as if the organ chose now to decide to rush nerves through Vi’s veins. All at once, everything felt real. This was her last chance to back down from her plan. If she pushed forward now, she would find herself on the Crescent Continent with no plan for how to get back.

  Vi closed her eyes, though it made no difference in the darkness.

  “A little light, Vi?” Jayme whispered up. “So we don’t slip and die on this death ladder.”

  “Right.” When she opened them once more, fire ignited over her shoulder, Vi gripped the spine of her journal between her teeth and they descended.

  The ladder ended at the end of a tunnel pathway that left them with only one way to go. She walked with a hand along the wall until the glow of the flame merged with the light of moonlight shining off craggy rock. Then, Vi extinguished her fire, giving time for her eyes to adjust, and headed out toward the silver moonlight that bled through a crack at the end of the tunnel.

  Squeezing herself through, Vi emerged onto a rocky path along the cliff-edge, just as Samri had described.

  “Careful,” Vi said over her shoulder. Jayme was also pushing herself though. “It’s—”

  “Narrow and windy.” Jayme finished, clinging to the wall as she emerged.

  The wind howled, threatening to rip Vi’s cloak off. Holding on to it was no better, as it only became a sail that could pull her down onto the rocky waves below. She may have been better without a cloak, as Jayme was.

  One hand on the stones next to her, Vi turned right and began walking downward.

  They walked for nearly an hour, inching along narrow sections of stone and the remnants of water-worn pathways from centuries of storms. The cliff ledge above them gradually lowered, until it wrapped around and dropped the two women off on a small platform behind a rusted gate. Vi gave it a pull; while it squealed in protest, it wasn’t locked.

  “Put your hood up,” Jayme suggested. “All the way, I’ll keep a look out.”

  Adjusting her hood over her head and linking arms with Jayme, she stepped into the streets of Norin for the second time in two days, this time under vastly different circumstances.

  “Do you know where we are?” Jayme asked, her voice still hushed and tense.

  “Make a left here,” Vi suggested. “Anywhere down and away from the Le’Dan manor is best.”

  Eventually, the streets connected with one she recognized from her earlier wanderings around the rich shopping district. Jayme seemed to recognize it as well, and with their location known, they immediately struck out on a direct course for the docks.

  Sailors already bustled about, heaving huge nets and crab traps onto ships. Most of the energy was around what appeared to be fishing vessels, so her focus remained on the other, quieter ships.

  The Dawn Skipper was as quiet as it had been the last time Vi had wandered here, and she approached the vessel with tense anticipation.

  A man sat on the thick post beside the boat’s lowered gangplank. He had his arms folded over his chest, chin almost lowered on them as he dozed while sitting upright. He jerked awake, and a moment later his eyes were clear and appraising.

  “We’re looking for Marcus.” Vi kept her voice quiet.

  “You found him.” The man’s voice reminded Vi of the rumbling crash of waves, and with it she felt a shift of magic about him. All in her head, perhaps… but she would bet he was a Wa
terrunner. “Are you the girls Lord Le’Dan mentoined? The daughters of one of his servants who wants to take up seafaring? Holly and Arwyn, was it?”

  Holly—yet another new name. It made sense to retire Yullia. That name was likely to be discovered as her alias. She didn’t want it to trail across the sea as well. Best to let Yullia die on the Main Continent.

  She glanced at Jayme, wondering how her friend felt about her own false name. She didn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest. “Arwyn,” she said with a nod.

  “And I’m Holly.”

  “Right, then, on the boat with you both.” Marcus led them up the creaking gangplank that squeaked with every crest of the water beneath. Vi followed close behind, not looking back once. “The Lord was gracious enough to send your things ahead.”

  “He’s a generous man,” Vi murmured, inspecting the ship’s main deck. There was a sloping rise to the quarterdeck in the back, but otherwise not much else. It was a noticeable contrast to the sumptuousness she’d come to associate with the Le’Dan aesthetic.

  “While he made clear your goals for this voyage—” Marcus stopped speaking long enough to give them a look that spoke volumes, “I’ll expect you to pull your weight while aboard.”

  “I’m stronger than I look,” Vi assured him.

  “Me as well.”

  He snorted. “I have men for the heavy lifting. How are you each with cooking? Or cleaning?”

  Vi would’ve preferred the heavy lifting—at least it’d come with some direction, she assumed. Vi had never cleaned her own rooms or cooked her own food in her life. Still, she didn’t want to make a fuss and was certain she could manage. “I can’t speak to cooking, but how hard can scrubbing be?”

  “Not cooking for you, then. Mare will still have the responsibility of ration management.”

  “I can help Mare,” Jayme offered quickly. “I’m a confident cook.”

  Marcus kept his attention on Vi. “What did you do in service of Lord Le’Dan?”

  She hadn’t given much thought to her cover story. Then again, she hadn’t exactly had much time to do so. She was supposed to be a daughter of a servant in service to the Le’Dans. Vi’s mind scanned over her memories from the Le’Dan estate.

  “I worked in the smithy.” Holding out her hand, fingers skyward, the tips of her middle and index ignited like candles.

  At nearly the same moment the man’s hand clasped around hers, as though he were catching a fly. Confirming her earlier suspicion, water dripped from his palm; Vi’s fire snuffed out. Marcus scowled at her.

  “Are you mad?” He tightened his grip and Vi fought a wince. “Fire on a boat is a recipe for disaster.”

  “I had control,” Vi insisted.

  “Bloody Firebearer,” Marcus muttered, throwing her hand aside. Vi wiped it on the inside of her cloak. “Not again on my vessel, understood?”

  “Understood.” Vi barely contained a scowl. He was helping her, and he owed her nothing. She was merely Holly, the servant’s daughter, after all. She had no right or room for righteous indignation.

  “What else can you do?”

  “I’m very good with maps,” Vi offered after thinking a moment. “I’ve taken notes on the seas.” Vi lifted the journal she’d been clutching for emphasis.

  That seemed to give him pause but in a positive way this time. “Is that so? Perhaps there’ll be genuine use for you yet… but that’s up to Kora.”

  She hoped so. She didn’t like the idea of being nothing more than cargo. But if that was what she must be, she’d be a quiet, harmless lump and give them no reason to question handing her off at their destination… wherever that may be.

  Under the quarterdeck, down a few steps, were three larger cabins. On either side were additional stairs leading into the hull of the ship where Vi heard movement—no doubt the crew. She looked down past the swaying lanterns, barely making out hammocks tied up. Behind one of the doors, she heard ruffling feathers and the occasional squawk.

  “You’ll be in here.” Marcus started for one of the cabin doors.

  “We have our own cabin?” Vi asked skeptically.

  “Of course not.” He laughed at the ridiculous notion. “Women share. Not putting them in the hold with the rest of the lads. We only have two other lasses aboard. Lucky for you, one of them is our navigator. Perhaps you’ll make friends.”

  He opened the door to a dark room. There were bunks bolted down on either side of the narrow cabin, the two bottom beds occupied.

  “Your stuffs up there.” Marcus pointed toward the top bunk on the right. “And yours is there,” he said to Jayme, pointing to the other. “But you can fight between you for who gets which top bunk.”

  “You are so annoyingly loud, Marcus,” one of the two occupants of the room hissed from underneath her woolen blanket.

  “Your new hands are here. Make sure they don’t get in the way, ladies.”

  With a palm in the center of their backs, Marcus pushed her and Jayme into the cabin and shut the door. Neither of the women stirred again. Vi and Jayme shared a look.

  “Try to get some sleep,” Jayme whispered, leaning close.

  Vi gave a small nod and was left climbing the bunk Marcus had said held her things. Sure enough, there was an unassuming sack. Within was an assortment of functional clothes that actually looked as if they’d fit. She glanced over to Jayme to find the woman was looking on in approval, having made a similar assessment of her own bundle.

  Erion’s tailors had worked quickly to learn their measurements. Vi scanned the few clothes, shoved them back into the bag, and tried to push every negative thought and worry away with them.

  Her hands smoothed over the familiar leather of her journal. This was all she had now. The further she went, the more she would give up. That was the way it had to be.

  Vi looked down at her wrist. The fingers of her right hand rested on the leather wrap that remained firmly affixed, rolling the wooden bead over the skin of her forearm. The bracelet Ellene had given her, a watch around her neck, a journal of her notes, and the knowledge of her true name was all Vi had of her past life.

  She was willing to give everything to find her father and a cure for her mother, and help her people. Yet she’d always assumed “everything” meant death. She never thought she could give up her life while still breathing.

  The sun was beginning to wink through the slats in the porthole cover. Dawn was breaking, and she’d barely slept. Mimicking Jayme, she used her sack of clothing as a pillow and tucked her cloak under her feet. One ear continued to listen to the docks, waiting for the sounds of Elecia’s Western Guard coming for her… but it was quiet, only the sound of water sloshing against the hull breaking the regular hum of sailors moving about.

  Vi’s eyes met Jayme’s across the narrow room. They seemed to glisten in the low light. Vi’s insides twisted; she hoped her friend was not fighting back tears of regret.

  Are you sure? Jayme mouthed slowly.

  Yes, are you? Vi silently said back.

  Yes. There was no hesitation on Jayme’s face.

  Pride and admiration for her friend filled her. No matter what, Jayme was on Vi’s side. The further they ventured, the more Vi realized the depth of her friend’s loyalty.

  With that not-insignificant comfort, Vi closed her eyes and worked to push all doubt from her mind. They had passed the point of no return.

  All she could do for the moment was sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Up with you, ladies!” Banging on the door woke them all. “We’re casting off!”

  “We didn’t have nearly enough time for this turn-around,” a Western woman grumbled in a thick accent. Vi blinked down at her sleepily. Jayme was already stirring in the bunk above.

  “Greed of lords,” the woman in the bunk below Vi rasped. She was the first to stand, pulling a loose-fitting shirt over golden curls. She turned to face Vi, piercing her with her icy blue Southern eyes. “You, new girl, you’re from the Le’Dan m
anor, right?”

  “Yes.” Vi pushed herself into a seated position—or rather hunched, as there wasn’t much room for her to sit fully upright on the top bunk.

  “You hear why we’re being sent off again so fast?”

  “No,” Vi lied and shook her head.

  “You?” The blonde turned her attention to Jayme. “You were the one coming around and asking if we were all ready to shove off at a moment’s notice.”

  “I had a suspicion… But nothing more concrete.” Jayme was beginning to dress, so Vi followed her lead.

  “Of course neither of them knows anything.” The Western woman stood, tying an apron around her waist. “You think Erion Le’Dan would tell that to the help?” Her dark eyes shifted to Vi, then Jayme. “I’m Mare, by the way.”

  “Oh, right, I’m Kora.” The Southerner strapped a rectangular pouch to her thigh, belting it also around her waist. It had a sleek sheen to it, almost like oil.

  “Holly,” Vi said.

  “Arwyn.”

  “Speaking of help,” Vi slid off her bed, landing somewhat ungracefully. She regretted it near instantly; the floor was cramped with three people. “I heard one of you is the navigator?”

  “That’d be me.” Kora was craning her neck to look up to Vi, who was a good hand taller even though she was also likely a few years younger.

  “I’d like to offer my services to you.”

  “You?”

  “I’m good with maps and I’ve been studying the tides.”

  “Navigating is more than maps.” Kora gave a bemused huff. “And it’s cute you think that studying tides and being out on them are comparable experience.”

  “Well, I’d like to learn.”

  “I’m not here to babysit.”

  “Well, you have fun with that, Kora.” Vi didn’t like the snicker at the end of Mare’s statement as she quickly departed the room.

  “Wait.” Jayme hopped off her bunk, hurrying after Mare. “I’m to help you…”