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

by Elise Kova

  “That’s the hope,” Vi replied back in all seriousness. “We don’t want her taking the axe until we’ve had a chance to replace it with the fake.” She had no interest in repeating her mistake in letting others take the crown.

  “So you’re going to scare her away.” Comprehension lit up Deneya’s face brighter than the soft light of the crystals.

  “Try to. Help me?”

  “Always.”

  Soft panting stole their attention. “Durroe watt radia,” she and Deneya both whispered in unison, a moment before Vhalla leaned over the opening above and let out a soft gasp as she beheld the contents of the cavern within.

  Don’t do it, Vi pleaded silently as she watched the woman inch toward the edge.

  Her plea went ignored, as Vhalla stepped off into the empty air. Magic flared up around the young woman with the unique signature Vi recognized from her own mother. She fell gracefully to a large crystal, until her foot slipped and she whacked her head.

  Vi bit back a groan. Out of everything Vhalla Yarl faced, Vi would rebel against fate and all the gods that wrote it, if Vhalla died from a clumsy slip and fall and that was what ended the world, somehow.

  But Vhalla, thankfully, didn’t die from a tumble onto a rogue crystal. She stood, walking through the room in awe, touching the tips of crystals along the way. Vi watched as they responded to her magic, tilting her head slightly. The pulses of power were similar to Vi’s own early experimentations with crystals.

  Vhalla’s eyes were on the blade, as she approached with shuffled steps. She inspected it, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. As if sensing Vi’s watchful gaze, she looked over her shoulder, and then back to the weapon. Vi could see Vhalla’s uncertainty and chose to capitalize on it. Dropping her illusion, Vi heard the softest of whispers from Deneya at her side.

  As Vhalla’s finger met the crystal of the blade, the whole room lit up.

  Deneya’s illusion of light faded into feathers cascading to the floor. The woman always had a flair for theatrics. Vi had known that since Egmun and Aldrik in the Crystal Caverns, and prayed it helped them once more.

  “Leave it,” she said, loud enough for Vhalla to hear.

  Vhalla looked in her direction, eyes wide, like those of a prey animal.

  “Leave the blade; do not take Achel from its tomb.” Vi used the old name for the weapon, given by the Northerners. It was the name she’d known from stories told around campfires growing up. Vi rested her hand on the crystals behind her, allowing them to create an opening back out to the forest beyond. She’d long since let go of her illusion over the entrance. “Heed my warning and leave. Do not touch the magic of the Gods, Vhalla Yarl.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I’ve had many names,” Vi gave her standard response as an illusion slipped over her, washing her in light.

  Deneya grabbed her wrist, and they both were enveloped by Deneya’s other glyph, which rendered them invisible once more. Vi shared a worried look with her friend. They both returned their attention to Vhalla Yarl, waiting to see what fate held.

  The whole affair must’ve overwhelmed the young woman, for she was on her knees, gasping for air. Or perhaps the magic of the crystals was too much for her, after all. Vi felt energized by them, but even she could recognize that the air was thick with their power in this ancient place. Vhalla stood and went for the axe. For one brief, glorious second, she hesitated and turned to the opening Vi had created.

  But Vhalla didn’t move as Vi had hoped. Instead, she gripped the handle of the axe and freed it with a tug.

  Vi covered her mouth to conceal a groan. The noise was part frustration and part the uneasy sensation of all the magic that had seeped out of the axe over the centuries returning eagerly to its origin. The crystals around them went dark as the blade briefly shone brighter. Without magic to support them, the stones began to crack and shatter.

  Vhalla Yarl sprinted past them, axe in hand, into the dark night as dormant crystals fell.

  Deneya held her arms over Vi’s head, shielding her from the rain of glass-like stone. She watched as Vhalla sprinted by them, axe in hand. Vi nearly lashed out to tackle the woman for the weapon.

  When the stones were done falling, Vi went to the opening and looked around. There was no sign of Vhalla or her companion.

  “Now what?” Deneya said gravely, emerging to stand at Vi’s side.

  “I’m not sure exactly,” Vi said thoughtfully. “But this means we can’t rely on anything from here on to be as we expect. We’re done playing by Taavin’s rules.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Think about this,” Taavin pleaded as Vi stormed out of their tent. Deneya gladly stayed behind to pack their things. She clearly wanted nothing to do with the heated debate between Vi and Taavin over their next steps. “It makes a lot more sense to try to get into the fortress after the war is over, when they’re negotiating the terms of surrender.”

  “If Tiberus negotiates those,” Vi retorted.

  “He negotiated for the West and that was after a ten-year siege. There was much more bad blood then to prevent such talks.”

  “He had brides to pick from, and he was a different man then.”

  “Fine, you’re not wrong,” Taavin mumbled.

  “No, I’m not.” Vi spun, fighting to keep her voice down so she didn’t draw attention to them. “Who’s to say he won’t torch the fortress and all its sacred trees like he torched the rest of the North?”

  “Are you doing this because you think it’s the right thing, or is it personal?”

  “This has nothing to do with me!”

  “It has everything to do with you. Ever since you first stepped foot on this world, you’ve been trying to circumvent what must be done. You’ve been pushing against me.”

  “Maybe because you need to be pushed.”

  “I’m not doing this. This is against every plan—”

  “Forget the plans, Taavin. Vhalla was there tonight. She has the axe.” Even though it wasn’t the first time she’d told him, Taavin still looked shell-shocked by the words. “We don’t know what will happen next. We have to act. And, yes, the only thing that’s important to me is getting that axe and seeing Raspian defeated by Yargen, whatever that takes.” She had to force the final words out. “But I know this matters to you. And out of love and respect for you—”

  “For me? Not the world?” he blurted the interruption.

  “Yes, for you, you frustrating man.” Vi grabbed his hand, squeezing tightly. “I’m trying to honor your wishes because I love you. This is your one chance for me to continue setting up the life of a new Champion. Either we go to Sehra tonight and leave this place after, or we leave now and forget the next Champion entirely.”

  “You infuriating woman,” he growled, taking a step closer to her. Taavin wrapped his arm around her waist, yanking her to him. “You have always made me act against my better sense. No matter the time, place, or world.”

  “I’m not sorry,” she murmured with half a grin before his mouth crushed hers.

  He kissed her like they were hidden away and not standing in the open among the moonlit tents of the Solaris army. He kissed her like it was their last chance to hold one another. She guessed every kiss from here on would be just the same.

  “I know you’re not,” he muttered hot and low over her lips. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” she whispered in reply, eyes darting from his mouth to his eyes. Vi didn’t dare tell him that there were one or two things he might tempt her with to prevent them from leaving tonight. She could already taste desperation on him for every moment they had left.

  “Now, what’s your plan to get in?” Taavin took a step away, though their hands were still interlocked.

  “I’ll need you to illusion us both—make us invisible in the darkness, or nearly so.”

  He pulled her down behind a nearby tent. Taavin looked around, then said, “Durroe watt radia.” They stood, moving once more past
the tents, this time with a glyph of invisibility swirling around them. “What next?”

  “I’m going to hope that Yargen already gave me something I can use.” Vi looked up at the large stone wall that encased the fortress. “She gave me a word for making and removing barriers, and this wall was made by Groundbreakers, which are a fracture of her magic.”

  “All right, I see your logic. But if this doesn’t work?”

  “Then we force our way in with juth calt.” Vi shrugged. “It’ll be louder and more chaotic. But we’re invisible, so we’ll slip in through the fray.”

  “Tactful.”

  “We’re in ‘making this up as we go’ territory, remember?”

  “Unfortunately.” He sighed, though a grin pulled at his lips. If Vi didn’t know better, she’d daresay he was enjoying this. Going off script was the slightest bit thrilling—if they ignored the fate of the world that hung in the balance.

  They walked through the darkness toward a back section of the Imperial army where soldier’s tents were fewer and siege weapons were in greater numbers. It meant there were less people here to take notice of them.

  In the darkness, she and Taavin approached the wall. Vi ran her palm along the smooth stone. Normal workmen and tools couldn’t create something this perfect. It was a wall fashioned entirely with magic.

  Closing her eyes, Vi sent small pulses of her own power through the wall. She tried to understand it, much like she would a crystal. She stood there for several long minutes, breathing and feeling.

  “Rohko,” she whispered, imagining the barrier that was the earthen wall peeling back like a curtain. There was a soft groan and the sound of stone grating on stone. Vi opened her eyes, shocked to find an opening, much like she imagined. “Let’s go, quickly!”

  Archers patrolled the walls, so Vi had no doubt one of them would soon notice the break in defense. They rushed across a narrow flat area, void of anything, to a secondary inner wall. Vi repeated the process, “Rohko,” and the wall opened for them, easier than the last.

  She said a mental thanks to Yargen and pulled Taavin through. They emerged on the other side of one of the great trees of Soricium. Vi looked up. She never thought she’d be so glad to see the familiar branches. After spending years trying to concoct ways to escape from under these boughs, seeing them above her made her eyes prickle with tears.

  “We should keep going,” Taavin reminded her softly.

  “You’re right.” Vi shook the nostalgia from her eyes and pressed on into the fortress.

  She knew the pathways and stairs like old friends. Not much had changed between this world and her own. Perhaps Soricium was one eternal constant, built hundreds of years before rebuilding a world in rewound time even became a thought to Yargen. This one place stood, and would always stand. Or so she hoped.

  Still, the Emperor torching it all still seemed a too-viable possibility.

  They crossed a bridge and Vi paused. She stared down over the rope rail to the masses huddled below. Everyone who was able had retreated into the fortress before they erected the walls and the Empire closed in. Half the city was cramped together, living in squalor. But they lived.

  Vi gripped the rail.

  “If we truly succeed in seeing this world continue on… No more war for this continent,” Vi whispered into the cool night air, speaking more to Yargen than Taavin. “Too much has been lost on this earth already.”

  Taavin didn’t reply. He merely stood as witness to her quiet, idealistic vow, waiting until she was ready to proceed forward once more.

  Up and up they spun on staircases, crossed bridges, and ascended into the heights of the canopy. Vi remembered the quarters Sehra had occupied before her mother died and she became Chieftain. They were the same quarters Ellene occupied after. She paused on the landing, raising a finger.

  “That’s where my rooms were,” she whispered into Taavin’s ear so she didn’t alert the guard that patrolled the bridge between where they were and Vi’s old chambers.

  “I’ve never seen it before.” His breath was hot on her ear as he whispered in reply. “I can imagine you here.”

  “Can you?”

  “After all the stories you’ve told me, yes.”

  There was no time for further conversation, however pleasant the reprieve. Without hesitation, Vi allowed herself into Sehra’s room.

  She moved through the archways of woven branches into a side hall that connected to a balcony. That balcony flowed into a room that only had three walls. Curtains of flowers gave privacy to the room’s occupant and reminded Vi distinctly of the Twilight Kingdom.

  There, sitting upright on the bed, green eyes shining in the dim light, was Sehra. Vi released Taavin’s hand and stepped out from the glyph. From Sehra’s point of view, she appeared from thin air, and the girl’s expression showed the fact.

  “I’m not here to hurt you,” Vi said in the old tongue of the North. The accents were familiar to her, no power of Yargen needed.

  “Who are you?” she asked, sliding to the edge of her bed.

  “A friend.” Vi pushed vines of bell-shaped flowers aside, stepping into the girl’s space. Sehra would be about thirteen at this point, she guessed. But even youthful, Sehra had the same intensity she’d keep all her life. Vi dropped to a knee to seem less threatening. “I will not hurt you.”

  “You’re of Mhashan?”

  “I’m of Yargen.”

  Sehra stood, crossing purposefully over to Vi. Her every movement carried regal poise beyond her years.

  “You know of Yargen?”

  Vi held out her hand and whispered, “Durroe.” Just like all those years ago, a miniature glowing orb appeared in her palm. But this time, even without the clarification words, the orb was sharp. It was a perfect ball of light, hovering.

  Sehra lifted her hand; the moment she was about to touch the shimmering illusion, Vi released her magic and grabbed the girl’s fingers lightly. She covered Sehra’s hand with her other hand. The girl regarded her warily, but did not pull away.

  “I’ve traveled from where your fate leads. From very far, indeed…” Vi searched the familiar face. It was Sehra, all right, merely twenty or so years younger than Vi remembered. “I’ve come because there is something you must do.”

  “For Yargen?” she asked. Vi nodded. “What must I do?”

  She wished everyone else would be as easy as Sehra, who knew enough of the old magics, even at this point, that a small display was all the proof she needed. All that, combined with the knowledge that Sehra in Vi’s time had been instructed by a traveler, led Vi to determine the most direct path was the best one in this instance.

  Manipulation and suggestion hadn’t really gone well for her tonight, anyway.

  “Soricium will fall,” Vi said apologetically. The words hurt to tell the girl. But her war-weary eyes were unfaltering in their attention. “When it does, you must see that your mother demands to negotiate the terms of surrender.” Sehra nodded, continuing to listen intently. Vi braced herself for what had to come next. “When Mhashan fell, the Emperor engaged Princess Fiera—”

  “You wish me to betroth myself to the Empire’s dark prince?” Shock and disgust leaked into Sehra’s voice.

  “Fate is often most cruel when we hope it to be fair.” Vi took a deep breath. She was toeing the line of saying too much, and she knew it. At least Sehra had come up with the idea of an engagement on her own. “You will return home a free woman. You will have two daughters… One of your own blood, and one of your enemy’s. Yet both will have the power of Yargen.”

  “A Solaris will have the power of Yargen?” she whispered.

  “You must nurture this power. When the time is right, take the eldest child. For her life, for yours, and for the lives of your people.”

  “You have made clear the will of Yargen.”

  “Good.” Vi stood, releasing the girl’s hand. She wanted to embrace Sehra tightly and tell her that everything would be all right. Vi might have, if a
commotion wasn’t rising outside on the walkways and bridges. The smacking of sprinting feet could be heard. Someone banged on Sehra’s door.

  “Sehra?” Za called through the door. Vi smiled knowingly. That relationship didn’t exist beyond protector and protected. Sehra was yet a child, after all. The door opened. “There’s been a tunnel discovered in the walls.”

  “Good luck,” Vi whispered to the girl. She reached her hand back and felt Taavin’s warm palm close around hers. The glyph surrounded them both once more, and Vi disappeared from existence as Za rounded the entrance of the room.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I am, Za,” Sehra said firmly, still looking at where Vi stood. “I need you to take me to my mother.”

  “It’s not safe.”

  “It is. There is no one unwelcome in the fortress.” The girl turned to her guard, looking twice her age as she commanded, “Now, we go to the chieftain. There are things I need to discuss with her.”

  Za gave a bow and led the girl from the room.

  “Why go to her, and not her mother?” Taavin asked when they were alone.

  “I wanted the relationship with her in case our paths ever cross again. She’ll be the one in the South. And the Sehra of my world said a traveler instructed her about what to do. I didn’t have a sense that I needed to obscure things.”

  “A sense…” Taavin rounded to look her in the eye. “You said you had a sense in the Crossroads as well.”

  “I did.”

  “That sense might be the will of Yargen, flowing through you.”

  “Who knows.” Vi looked out over the branches at the Imperial camp beyond so he didn’t see the truth on her face. “Let’s go.”

  “Just where are we going?” he asked, though he was already following her.

  “The axe will be too guarded here. We’ll meet them back at the Crossroads and take it from her then—before it makes its way south and into Victor’s hands.”

  Vi’s fingers twitched. Soon. So very soon the last of the crystal weapons would be in her possession.