“Could you have helped them?”
Janus seemed to think about it. “Don’t know. Maybe.”
“Maybe is no good,” she said, hearing the shouts of people as they splashed past, something held over their heads she couldn’t make out through the wall of water crashing over the arch. “We can all get caught up in maybe, Janus. But what good will it do?”
“Asking for me, or for you?”
“Both of us, I think.”
The rain gradually tapered off to a light drizzle, a tap turned just one notch short. Trickling water ran from the roof, splashing into the puddles that had collected into the dips and grooves of the worn stone streets. It collected and ran down the natural slope of the city, collecting leaves and other pieces of debris as it went and turning the murky colour of mud. The sky above, while still overcast, had lightened considerably, sliced through with slivers of pale blue. The earthy after scent of rain permeated the air, fresh and calming.
Relieved to no longer be confined to the limits of the alcove with Janus, Rook peeked her head out, making the mistake of looking up only for water to drip into her eyes. Hissing at the shock, she backed into Janus’ chest while wiping her eyes and sniffed. Her body was cold all over. They would both have to be careful, lest they ended up ill on the journey to Rökkum. And it was only set to get colder as they journeyed south.
Prying his arms from the tatters of his black coat, Janus wrung it out and Rook marvelled at the stream of water that poured from it. When he flapped it out the cloth was wrinkled and limp, still riddled with tears and holes, and far too thin for where they were heading. She bit her lip to keep from laughing at his forlorn expression.
“It’s about time you got a new one anyway.”
“Like this one.”
“I mean, at what point does a coat cease to be a coat?”
“When I can’t wear it anymore.”
Rook snorted. “If you want to freeze to death when we get to Lyrshok be my guest.” She traipsed through the layer of water on the ground, grimacing when she felt some water seep into her boots. It made it worse that it was only one boot, so that one foot was squelching in a cold sock, the other warm and dry.
“Not that cold, you said.”
“Ah, you caught me,” she said, holding up her hands with a grin. “I tricked you into coming.”
She caught the flicker of a smile on his lips and called it triumph, her own countenance brightening. Perhaps not all was lost yet. They both just needed a little time to recover and remind themselves there was hope to hold onto. Humming as she walked, she noticed a small stall trying to pack up their produce, struggling with folding the awning together when it was soaked through and stiffening over in the cooling air.
“Do you need any help?” she asked the woman, her breath clouding around her face. She ignored the cold and pasted a bright smile on her face at the woman’s startled expression.
“I can’t reach the top of the pole.”
Before she could say anything Janus was reaching up to untie the striped cloth from the poles holding it aloft over the small wooden cart. Together she and Janus folded it up and passed it over to the cart owner.
“Thank you,” she said softly, her accent carrying the hissing sibilance distinct to Yuratsa and its surrounding suburbs. “I am Rihtan.”
“You can call me Rook. What are you selling?”
“I was selling remyll but I fear many of them are ruined with the downpour.”
Both starving and craving something sweet, Rook fished into her pockets until her fingers latch onto rattling coins. “I only have yurel,” she said.
Rihtan blinked. “Rook-wei, what else would you pay with?”
“Oh. Of course.” The older currency of kellshim must have fallen out of favour in the increased Sonlin occupation. She dropped two coppers into the woman’s palm and picked out two pastries for the two of them. “Thank you, Rihtan-wei.” Just as she was about to leave she remembered. “You wouldn’t happen to know where we might stay the night, would you?”
The woman seemed to think, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “There are a few inns by the Kamall quarter, I believe. That’s just a little north east of here. If you keep heading in that direction,” she said, pointing down a long street, “you’ll come to the Lai Kusok fountain. You might have luck trying there.”
“Thank you, we will indeed.”
“Rilla laishi.”
“And you, Wei.”
Rook handed a myllak to Janus, who eyed it warily. “It goes in your mouth, you cretin.”
Janus held it to his face and sniffed it, powdered sugar dusting his nose. “What is it?”
“It’s a pastry filled with candied fruit and sugar. They’re absolutely –” she cut off as the bundle in her palm began to move. It shook for a few moments before it suddenly flew into the air, a soft glow shimmering around it. Rook stared at it, gaping. The tingle of its aura told her exactly what it was.
“Janus, look!”
Janus turned, cheeks rounded as he chewed. He tried to speak but his mouth was too full.
Rook lifted a hand and tapped at her dessert. With a whir of panic the riftspawn surged away from her, hovering above her head. A smattering of sugar rained down on her, catching her cheeks, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand, staring. It was a small riftspawn, hardly powerful enough to be of note, but still curious enough in the centre of a city with a closely monitored rift.
“Come here,” she murmured, as both Rook and The Rook. Her companion hummed gently in her ear, a playful twist of emotion registering in her mind. It wanted to eat the riftspawn. “I can’t eat it now,” she murmured to herself, watching the folded pastry swoop and swirl towards her. She had been looking forward to it.
“Here,” said Janus, handing her half of his.
“Don’t you want it?”
“Too sweet.”
“Hm,” she said with a smile, nibbling at the treat as they walked. The sweetness of the sugar and tartness of the fruit revived her a little, so that she felt a little less undead walking the streets. Still, the sun would set soon and freeze them in their wet clothes – already her breath misted around her face – so it was better to have the energy to walk a little quicker, keeping close to Janus to preserve body heat.
“If only I could remember where we are… I think it’s this way but I’m uncertain.” It had been some time since she had visited the city for more than a quick stop to catch the boat onwards. Little appeared to have changed since then, the buildings as tall and impressively detailed as she remembered, the ever slick streets, constantly logged with rain and snow, and the core of warmth that was the city’s general atmosphere, like a furnace in the worst of the low season. Even so she managed to get them lost several times, backing up only to turn down another winding alley that spat them into a corner she did not recognise. Light by light appeared in the windows around them, bright sparks in a darkening city. The street lamps so high above them cast huge pools of auburn light onto the ground, reflecting like watching eyes in the puddles beneath their boots.
“Is that your fountain thing?”
Rook blinked at the statue of Lai Kusok reaching to the sky, water spilling from his cupped hands into a pool at his feet. “Ah! There we are. She said there would be accommodation around here, didn’t she? How about this one?”
Stopping by a smaller building that appeared to be a renovated church, she pointed to the sign hanging from the door that read: Kusok House. The battered sign rattled in the breeze picking up around them, hand painted and charming. The door was a nice shade of red, if a little worn and cracked in the corners, and it was offering beds for a reasonable price in the window advertisement.
Janus shrugged so she pushed open the door, a small bell above chiming their entrance. Inside was dry and warm, if a little musty. But it boasted a quaint little parlour, with a small reception desk, an armchair that had probably seen better days, and a large painting hanging on the wall depicting the city u
nder the heavy drapery of pink snow, the blush of sunset depicted in soft pastel tones. There was a staircase in the corner, the bannister missing a slat or two to hold it aloft, but it was clean, and so long as she could get out of her wet clothes and get a decent sleep she would be without complaint.
“Is this one okay, do you think?” she said, glancing around. There appeared to be no one there, not a peep beyond their own voices to disrupt the stillness of the room. It was a little eerie. Surely there had to be someone there to take care of the place.
“Try the bell,” said Janus, stalking over to the reception desk. His finger hesitated over the brass bell before he plucked at it, the sound echoing in the spacious room.
As the last whispers faded out, they waited expectantly. No one appeared. It seemed very odd to Rook, who could hear better than the average person, the sound still tolling in her ears. A draught from the door caught her spine and she shivered violently, huddling into herself. She felt her nose drip, swiping at it, and then before she knew it a sneeze ripped from her throat.
Janus handed her a tissue.
“Thanks,” she mumbled. “I think we might need to try –”
“Back off, you little heathen – oh. Hello?”
Rook sidled to the stairs, peering up at an older man holding a broom, his dark eyes round as he stared at them. “You’ll be wanting to get out of here, Weishei,” he warned, trotting down the stairs two at a time with a nimbleness that belied his girth, a hand on the paunch over his waistband. “I’m afraid it’s dangerous to be here right now.”
“Dangerous?” she repeated, glancing at Janus.
“Aye. There be all these little beasties crawling around upstairs. You don’t want to be coming in here.”
“Beasties?”
“Beasties. Critters. Things with too many legs that glow and fly,” he said, eyes wide as he waggled his fingers.
“Spirits, you mean?”
He rested his hands on the handle of his broom and titled his head at her. “Spirits? We’re in a former church, Chana. I know a spirit when I see one and these ain’t that.”
“May I take a look?”
“They’ll attack you. I can’t in good conscience let you –”
“I’m from The Order, see?” she said, flashing the tattoo on her wrist. “Besides, I’ve got this big scary guy to help me, don’t I?”
The man eyed Janus warily, chewing on his lip. Janus, in all his reedy glory, hair a damp mop curling around his ears and nape where it was drying, wearing a coat more holes than cloth, was still intimidating in the frankness of his stare, the unimpressed tilt to his brow. He was scary in the way spiders were frightening, despite being small and mostly harmless; frankly they had too many legs to look normal, and there was always the chance their bite might be poisonous enough to kill. There was something unnatural about their movements that made the mind wary, even if the thought wasn’t wholly conscious.
The inn owner threw up his hands. “Do as you wish, Chana. It’s your funeral.”
She swept by him, wooden stairs groaning beneath her weight. “I don’t plan on dying any time soon, thank you very much.”
As she reached the upper landing, wooden floorboards as warped and uneven as the stairs had been, she could feel the rise in spiritual energy. Tapping into her connection to The Rook, she felt the sensation of flapping wings, tickling her skin with a gust of air. A soft, downy white feather made its lethargic descent to the floor and she plucked it from the air, turning it this way and that in the light.
Janus reached out a hand and, surprised, she placed it in his open palm. “Will my hair turn as white as yours?”
She scoffed, her footsteps across the landing announced by every sagging floorboard. “No. I was blonde before, you know. Besides, you just swore your loyalty to it. It’s not quite the same thing.”
“No glowing eyes?”
“No powers, either.”
When she glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes his finger was still tracing over the tufts of the feather, a faraway look in his eye. “Nothing is going to happen to you. I won’t let it.”
His lips curled into the shadow of a smile. “Mm.”
The tingle of energy grew stronger before one of the doors with a number four sign hanging near the top and she paused to listen, ear pressing to the door. Scratching noises could be heard behind it, picked up only by her advanced hearing. Pulling a riftblade from the sheath strapped to her back, she glanced to Janus, nodded when he drew his gun, and then pushed the handle gently. The door creaked open and she glanced around a small bedroom with a futon bed tucked into the corner and a desk by the window. Her eyes darted around, listening for the scratching sounds with baited breath. And then they appeared.
A shriek erupted from her as a stream of spider-like creatures spilled from the door, as large as a chickens, with multiple eyes all over their strange disk shaped bodies. Dancing out of the range of their hideous spinning legs, she darted behind Janus with another scream when one shoved past her leg, a flicker of energy startling The Rook into a frenzy. Unlike her it was not afraid. It wanted to eat them.
Janus pointed and shot at one as they scurried down the corridor, bodies glowing with lines of purple light and the gelatinous bubbles of their protruding eyes. The bang reverberated against the high ceilings, echoing in waves. One of the riftbeasts collapsed, blood and guts smeared on the floral wallpaper of the nearby wall. From below the inn owner’s yelling wafted up but Rook couldn’t hear over the shock of the noise still ringing in her ears.
Creeping closer to the creature, she grimaced at the gory mess of legs and eyes and viscera, the smell strong enough to make her gag. A leg twitched a few times before stilling again and her hand flew out to snatch Janus’ sleeve out of reflex, disturbed by the sight.
He glanced at her, raising a brow.
“I don’t like spiders,” she said. “Too many legs.”
“Don’t think it’s a spider.” Crouching down, he prodded at the mush with the barrel of his gun, looking thoughtful.
“Oh, that is disgusting.”
“Probably a good sign.”
“In what way?” she said, still picturing all the scurrying legs, feeling their presence somewhere in the building and hearing the echo of their drumbeat steps. She shivered, hairs rising on her arms. There couldn’t be any realm where spiders were a good thing.
“If they bonded – means they can’t exist without a body.”
“Ah,” she said, catching on. “The rift here is tended by the rift maidens but there’s very little warden presence. If there are still any wardens at all, that is.”
“Should take care of this problem, then.”
She looked at him. “Do we have to though? There are other places we could stay. No, no, you’re right don’t give me that look. I get it. I’m totally on board. Can’t wait to kill some beasties.”
“Can do it myself, if you like.”
If she didn’t know any better, she would say he looked amused, eyes glinting as he gazed up at her from the remains of the riftbeast. She sighed theatrically, taking out her other riftblade and twirling both in her hands. “Let’s get hunting. Looks like we have an inn to save.”
Janus stood and met her gaze.
Apparently sleep and warm clothes would have to wait.
*
There was a storm looming on the horizon. Captain Kallan’s eyes were constantly darting to the black clouds roiling overhead as the ship crested choppier and choppier waves, barking short commands to the crew around her who scuttled away to heed her commands. Clinging to the railing, Kilai felt salt spray against her face, sticking to her skin. It should have been cold but there was a heat lurking in the atmosphere, building and building until it would finally break with the coming rain.
Kilai awaited it eagerly. Her cramped little cabin next to the ship’s galley was too stuffy at night for proper rest, as accustomed to shabby conditions as she had become in the past few months. If only he
r younger self could see her now, she thought to herself. The woman she had become would be quite unrecognisable to the girl she had once been, but she found she would not turn back even if that path was open to her.
“You never did tell me what possessed you to join our crew,” came the deep rasp of Kallan’s voice behind her.
Kilai eyed the captain as she came to stand by her shoulder, the weathered lines of her face a map of a long and weary life. But Kallan had a firmness to her stance, a glint in her eye, that revealed the strength and resilience beneath. Her grey hair was tied back with a bandana in a bright red fabric, the only strong colour in a landscape of muted greys and greens. Kilai liked the woman but it did not necessarily mean that she trusted her. It had been the strangest thing for her to learn, when she had departed from the harbour in Tsellyr, that she had left behind the only people in the world she could truly say she had faith in.
“The air was getting stale in that city,” she said. “I longed for the fresh breeze on my face. A new horizon. Something new.” Her eyes shut to heighten the feel of it against her skin.
“I didn’t take you for a romantic, Kilai-wei.”
Her eye cracked open, drinking in the dubious expression. “No? Don’t we all have a little romance in us?”
“A little adventure, aye. But I doubt you’re the fanciful type.”
“Maybe I want to be.”
Kallan snorted. “Then I’m afraid you have come to the wrong place. Life aboard is naught but hard graft and the mercy of the sea.”
“I’ve survived this long, have I not?”
“I’ll concede to that.”
They fell into companionable silence for a while as the waves grew higher and higher, until each crest cut off the horizon with a wall of water and the slow descent upwards was met with a crash back down the other side, spraying their faces and clothes. Soon the deck was slick with so much water, the crew shouting over the roar of the wind that had picked up so suddenly that Kilai was reminded of the golden haired soldier with the storm at his fingertips. As she slid from one side of the ship to the other to help the men with the sails, she couldn’t help but wonder if he had really died and was choosing now to haunt her. It was a ridiculous notion but such extraordinary natural phenomena tended to inspire unnatural stories to explain them away.
The Rising Tide Page 2