“You better leave that attitude of yours behind.” Vallnor scrambled as the voice sounded louder, closer to the door. “You’re not invincible here.”
Then the woman stormed out, throwing the doors so hard that the one he was standing behind thumped into him. Muffling the grunt behind his hand, he grabbed the door handle so it wouldn’t bounce off him, catching a long sweeping coat billow out and cropped black hair, stark against the pale décor of the building, before the figure quickly disappeared around the corner. Breathing a sigh of relief, he took a moment to catch his nerve, waiting until the sound of her footsteps had faded into silence once more, before he slipped into the office.
He had intended to sneak but his foot creaked on a loose board and Sandson’s head whipped up, eyes sweeping over him with curiosity. There was no surprise in his gaze, like he had been expecting Vallnor to pop in all along, and he gestured to a chair across from his desk before sitting himself.
“Forgive me if I do not offer you refreshments, it would appear I am all out.”
Vallnor rested his hands on the back of the chair, staring down at Sandson. The man looked weary, circles dark beneath his eyes and hair falling over his face. His desk was a patchwork of papers, files, mugs of tea, and assortments of various other items scattered across the unseen surface. His hands were splayed across the desk, fingers tugging on the top sheets of paper until they crinkled and curled.
“I did not come here for that.”
Sandson cocked his head, gaze narrowing. “No? Tell me, then, what did you come for, Vallnor Siklo?”
“You do not call me by his name.”
“Should I? To whom do I truly speak in this moment?”
Vallnor looked away for a moment, hating the way those golden eyes bored into him. “My sister wishes to invite you to the Jade Palace for the celebration of the Siklos’ return.”
Fingers drummed against the desk. “Your sister only? Then why does she send you, the brother who is the most wanted fugitive of the Sonlin Empire?”
Vallnor scowled. “I can look after myself, thank you very much.”
Sandson raised his palms in defence. “Well, as much as I am flattered to have been invited to such a noble event, I do not think it would be quite appropriate for myself to attend. Send along my regrets, will you?” And then he turned back to his paperwork like Vallnor was someone who could be ignored.
“Do you really think you can ignore us and we’ll just go away?” Thumping his fists on the table, he smirked when Sandson’s head shot up. “This is the future of your city, Lord Sandson. This is the future for these islands.”
“Who is it that you try to convince? Me? Or your own self?”
Vallnor sneered at him. “There is no convincing. It will happen. The people wish to be rid of these Dusklander imposters. They want their true leaders back.”
“Upon what? A throne?” Sandson ran a finger down a stack of paper the width of his hand and then gestured around his office. “Welcome to the modern palace, Prince. Are you sure you can handle it?”
“You think you’re so clever but here you are, the puppet for these foreigners. Do you not tire of their rules? Of all their petty little squabbles and their need to push the rest of us down? Why do you sit here like a cowering little wretch and let them walk all over you?”
Sandson leant back, expression contemplative. “Careful, Prince. You sound like you might be the one cowering in fear.”
Vallnor huffed and turned. It seemed there would be no getting around this man, no matter how much Fyera might want him to attend, for reasons he could not begin to fathom. What power could a man really hold when he had conjured it all from nothing? What blood ran through his veins? What strength? So easily could he be snuffed out by Vallnor’s flame, if he really wanted it to be, but Sandson’s arrogance blinded him to it. Vallnor could so easily show him why he should fear him with just a flicker from his fingers. He would enjoy it, he thought, making those eyes widen and his skin sweat.
But something staid his hand.
“I cannot attend your gathering because I cannot be shown to express allegiances to your family. My job here rests on being able to correspond with the Sonlin Empire but do not mistake it for blind obedience. I am here to challenge the way this city is governed. That is what the people elected me to do.”
Vallnor snorted. “How easily they will cast you aside when you do not give them what they want.”
Sandson shrugged. “Then so be it. That is how things should be. There is no divine right in your blood that makes you a more capable ruler than I, whatever you may believe on the matter. Do not forget that the blood in your veins belongs to a street urchin, once penniless and powerless.”
He bristled at the insinuation. It did not matter. It did not matter who this vessel had been before him, be it street rat or the Emperor of Shillah, because in the end Vallnor was the one who had won their battle. He was the real chosen one of the phoenix, part of the family who bore it as their crest for centuries, and the one destined to rule these islands alongside his sister. The one destined to avenge their deaths at the hands of those monsters from across the sea.
“It is not blood that makes me the rightful ruler. It is this,” he said, palm reaching out with a ball of green flame dancing within. It sent a thrill through him as the world opened up, all the glistening threads of energy around him visible to his eyes. He sucked in the breath of the rift, rippling with power.
Sandson opened his mouth to speak but before he could footsteps echoed outside and Vallnor managed to extinguish the flame just in time. Another woman marched into the room, her red hair like pure fire around a pale face. Over one eye she wore an eyepatch with embroidery, a scar peeking out from the confines of the fabric. Her other eye went straight to him, stopping short in the middle of the room and staring at him like she had had the wind stripped from her sails. This could be none other than the indomitable Major Riki, second in command to General Nevi who led the forces in Tsellyr.
Vallnor looked to Sandson, his spine rigid against the back of his chair. He tucked his hands behind his back, resisting the instinctive tug on the connection between himself and the phoenix. Anticipation trickled through him, somewhere between fear and excitement. He was curious to see how this would play out.
“May I help you with something, Major?”
She glanced between them, lips pursing. “It would appear we have company.”
Vallnor had to hand it to him, if Sandson was nervous he did not show it on his face, his posture relaxed. “This is one of my informants, do not mind him.” His chair sliding back was muffled by the thick carpeting as he approached Vallnor. “Come, I’ll just show you out.”
Riki’s eye narrowed. “Your face looks familiar to me. Have we met?”
A ball of fire burst into the cup of his palm. He saw Sandson’s eyes flicker down to where it was tucked behind his back. “I am quite sure you have never met before.”
Vallnor stared right into her eye, smirk creeping across his lips before he could stop it. “I just have one of those faces, I have been told.”
Riki wrinkled her nose. “I need to have words with you, Sandson.”
“Yes, yes, just give me a moment, please. I’ll be right back.” And then he was being prodded between the shoulder blades out of the doors. Vallnor accounted it to surprise, that Sandson was able to shove him up against the wall, face so close to his he could see the flecks of gold and brown in his eyes, puffs of breath hot on his face.
“Leave, now.”
Vallnor raised his palm up to Sandson’s face, enjoying the way the green light reflected off the spectacles hanging around his neck. “Do not tell me what to do.”
But Sandson was unimpressed. He leant back and crossed his arms. “If you know what is good for you, you will leave quietly. Go now, or stay at your peril. I am sure your sister will be ever so pleased if you get yourself executed before she can put her plan into place.”
Vallnor scoffed but
he crushed the flame in his fist. “Call it a courtesy, Lord. Maybe you will change your mind and come to our gathering. If not, we will consider you an enemy to our cause.”
“Think what you will. Good day, Prince.”
Then he swept back into the room, closing the door behind him with a careful click. For a moment, Vallnor simply stood there, reeling. He was tempted to stay and listen to their conversation but a voice in his head had him pulling back, warning him of the consequences of inciting a war with General Nevi and her vicious second. It would happen, and some day soon, but when he was alone and unprepared was not the time. So he pulled back on the link between himself and the phoenix, feeling empty from the loss of such delicious energy, the fire draining out of him.
Frustrated, itching to fight, and at a loss, Vallnor retreated from Sandson’s office, too busy muttering to himself to pay attention to his surroundings. As he tried to remember from which part of the building he had come, he bumped his shoulder into someone, hard enough that they both stumbled. Vallnor whipped around to snap at the person for not moving out of the way when her face stopped him short. Tall, with short dark hair, a wide nose and broad shoulders, towering above him. In her distinctive indigo coat she was instantly recognisable, even if it took him a moment to remember where from. From behind Viktor’s eyes, in days past. A city he belonged to but had never been. Flashes of a meeting room, of spirits and fear, gambling tables in taverns and the heady smell of smoke.
Lieutenant Yshi’s eyes widened, staring at him. “You’re…” Suddenly she was pulling a gun and instinct saved him, ducking to the side and then breaking into a run. Maybe Vallnor didn’t run but it was all Viktor knew, tearing off down the corridor with his footsteps echoing out his heartbeat. He heard cries behind him and doors slamming but he did not stop.
Vallnor couldn’t remember where the window was but Viktor could. His feet found their way of their own accord, slipping into a room like the myriad others shooting off from the corridor. The window was still lying slightly ajar and he shoved it fully open, peering down at the short drop to the ground. There was no time for fear. What he broke would heal anyway so it did not matter. But that did little to settle the disquiet in his heart.
Voices startled him into action, hearing the thudding of footsteps far too close to where he was. So he let instinct take over – be it Viktor, be it someone else in his vast collection of past selves – and he took a step onto the ledge so he could launch himself over, ducking and rolling to alleviate the pain of his landing. He collided with a thicket of bushes, grunting as his limbs flopped out wide. Winded, it took him a moment to catch his breath before the voice in his head had him on his feet and pushing past the pain.
A shot rang out from the window above but it went wide, Vallnor diving as it buzzed past his head. He could take a bullet. He could take a bullet and walk away unscathed. But the frantic screaming in his head could only remember the pain of that inn in a backwater town somewhere northwards. How it had drained him dry. How painful it had been to tear it from his flesh. It was hard to stamp out such fear, ingrained so deeply it had become muscle memory. So Vallnor ran the way princes did not run.
Vallnor ran and forgot whether he was truly Vallnor at all.
*
As the first rays of dawn crested the mountains biting into the horizon beyond the Zyll Kunath monastery, Rook was startled by the sudden thought that they had been due to take the ship to Rökkum that very same morning. With her stomach twisting in knots, she pushed all thoughts of home aside and focused on her immediate surroundings. Visiting her home could be done at any time, even if that time ended up being the descent into the worst of the shivering low season, but right now she had matters that needed tended and that was more important. That was what she told herself, as she stepped from the carriage into a cool morning with sleep heavy eyes. The rift called out to her, its pulse strong and distracting.
“It is quite the place,” she murmured, glancing around at the walls enshrining them inside the compound. Through a pretty rockery with a pond she took the main path winding towards the temple in the centre. It cut through the surrounding trees, a slanting roof painted in red and gold against the staggering back drop of snow-capped mountains that looked more painting than reality. The red fish in the pond swam towards them as they passed, mouths gaping, and Rook peered down at them, enchanted.
“We haven’t exactly had time or funds to renovate the place. So little money goes to the old Illumination temples. Especially not with the current occupation.” Neyvik sniffed, holding her kobi so it would not trail along the rough path between the grass and shrubs.
“No, it is quite beautiful,” she said. Neyvik seemed determined to fight her on everything she said.
If she looked closely she could see where the paint flecked away, mould staining the corners of the outer structure, which appeared to be a series of connecting square arches that led through to the temple itself, but the tarnish only added to the rustic beauty of the compound. The ivy crawled up the archways, as if the man-made and the natural were becoming one. The sun shone across the flecks of gold paint along the outer ridges, bringing out the deeper greens and browns of the rest of the building. With a soft pink sunrise behind it, it was a sight that would inspire any painter who happened to pass through.
“Thank you, Rook-wei,” said Hika with a small smile. “We pride ourselves in maintaining the temple and grounds ourselves.”
A small riftspawn drifted past, a small pastel coloured creature that propelled itself forward by ballooning out and then expelling that energy until it was as stringy as a worm in the sky. It tickled her senses, soft and humble. Rook gazed up at it. “Is the rift inside?” In truth she did not need to ask; she could feel the thrum building inside her, The Rook stirring at the strength of it. It felt strong and frantic. A familiar dread nestled beneath her skin.
Neyvik followed her gaze. “Shishi can only be seen at dawn and dusk.” She spared a glance for Rook. “Yes, it is. But you don’t get to go anywhere near it.”
Janus placed a hand on her shoulder when she bristled and she reigned in her emotions. “I just want to take a look. I’m not going to do anything.”
“You are a guest here and you will remain in the guest quarters.”
“But I can help you with the rifts.” At Neyvik’s sour expression, she amended, “We should at least put our heads together to try and fix the problem. The rift feels a little out of balance.”
“The rift in Yuratsa has been maintained by rift maidens for millennia.”
Rook pressed her lips together and fought a sigh. This woman seemed determined to hate her no matter what she did. With people like that there would be no winning, but then again, Rook had never been a quitter.
Suddenly a shorter girl scurried from the entrance of the squat temple building, her hair braided around her head like Neyvik and Hika, pins glinting in the rising sun. Beside Rook the two rift maidens stiffened before hurrying to meet the harried figure. She paused to catch her breath, resting her hands on her knees as her chest heaved. Her big, dark brown eyes peered up at the two women.
“Yukara, what is going on?”
“There was – a problem. A Rellshar managed to get through the rift and we couldn’t stop it. Now there are members of the Order here fighting with Thiemi, saying we’re not fit to look after the rift.”
“Rift wardens?” asked Rook.
At the same time Neyvik said, “What of the Rellshar now? Is it still here?”
Yukara bit her lip and nodded before she glanced at Rook. Tears shimmered in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Neyvik. I’m so sorry. Everything just got so out of hand.”
“What is this creature?” said Rook.
“Shouldn’t you know?” said Neyvik, already breaking into a run after the girl. “You’re the big great rift warden here, are you not?”
“In training,” Rook huffed, running after her. “I’m not actually one yet.”
“It’s a powerfu
l riftspawn, of the third highest order of greater riftspawn. It’s capable of taking over people’s consciousnesses before it burns them out. They move so far and so fast that once they get past the rift it’s hard to find them. They’re most notable for their piercing cry which can disorientate,” said Hika between breaths.
“They’re smart, too. And vicious.”
Neyvik burst through the large double doors into a dimly lit hall, running through another set of doors and then taking a sharp turn. Inside the room opened up into a sprawling cavern, much like a church hall with high windows of coloured glass spilling in a kaleidoscope of light, only there was a massive stone gate in the middle. Huge slabs of stone had been piled up into a precarious looking circle, inscribed with etchings so faint the words could not be read. Between the stones shimmered the familiar swirling lights of the rift.
The structure was so similar to that of the rift in Rökkum that Rook momentarily forgot where she was, expecting to see Old Grey walk through the door and tell her what to do. To think when she had left she had thought herself ready for this journey. Had thought that nothing but some basic training and a good attitude would be enough to turn the tide of her fate. But such things were never as simple as that.
“Where is Thiemi now?” said Neyvik, looking around.
“She was here! They were all just here!”
The sharp scent hit her nostrils, a shiver rippling through her. Rook paused, tilting her head as she sniffed the air, reaching down to tap into her connection to The Rook. She could feel Janus’ gaze on her. Whipping out her blades, she said, “There’s something coming.”
The Rising Tide Page 8