“Is it normally this bad?”
“It can get pretty rough this time of year.” Yejah coughed, rubbing at her back where the barrel had landed. “But this feels bad. I don’t like the look of it.”
“I’m going to take a look. Are you coming? I need someone to hold me down.”
“You must be completely witless.” But still she held out her hand, the other snatching up a coil of loose rope.
In truth, Kilai’s limbs were stiff with pain and cold but she heaved herself up onto unsteady feet, taking a moment to find the cadence of the turbulent sea before she held out her hand for Yejah. Tying the rope around her waist, she gave the other end to her companion, who grimaced in response. The two of them clung to one another as they made their way back up onto the deck and almost immediately she regretted her choice.
As soon as her head crested the shelter of below decks she was assaulted by the rain lashing from above. Painful against her skin, she tucked her face into her arm and climbed over, onto the slick deck, a thin sheet of water rolling towards her as the ship shifted its weight. It splashed over her boots and soaked into her trousers, feet turning numb. With a violent shiver, she straightened up, peering through the net of her fingers. She could barely see a thing.
Chasing courage like a sailor chasing after a tavern wench, she launched herself into the fray, skidding across the deck towards the blurry shapes of crewmembers she could discern through the haze of the storm. The rope tugged at her stomach, both a comfort and a hindrance. She was under no illusion; chances were it would not save her should she go tumbling off the edge. But it bolstered her through her shaking knees to know it was there, enough to trick her mind into thinking she had a safety measure.
As another wave bit into the side of the ship, white foam fangs looming high above her head, she rather thought that it would be a miracle if any of them survived the night. Kilai found a strange thrill run through her at the thought.
Lungs tight with adrenaline, she crashed into the mizzenmast and steadied herself against it, trying to catch her breath while the wind stole it straight from her chest. This was a fool’s errand. Who was Kilai hoping to save like this, when she could barely keep herself upright? Her fingernails dug into the grime staining the mast, sliding and slipping through the streams of water running down. Everything felt numb.
“Kilai?”
She turned at the sound of her name roared above the wind.
“What are you doing?” Makku skidded into the mast, his hair plastered against his skull and his eyes squinting through the downpour that was somehow growing heavier and heavier. It thundered against the deck, bouncing off the wood.
She tried to speak but her lips wouldn’t move, frozen stiff. Her words were stolen by the storm, whisked out of her reach.
“This isn’t the time to play hero!”
Swaying wildly, the ship shuddered and groaned. Losing her grip, Kilai fell into Makku, who just managed to keep them both upright. Through waterlogged lashes she noticed the rope tying him to the mast and smiled grimly, thinking that at least they had both formed the same idea.
“Where’s the captain?”
“I don’t know!”
Another crash juddered her bones, rattling her teeth together. Kilai gripped tight onto Makku’s soaking shirt, wondering how this could ever be freedom. Thinking maybe she had asked for this. And yet. And yet, she didn’t think she’d chose any differently if she could go back again. Because in the end she had chosen to sail into the unknown. She still believed there had to be more beyond the impossible darkness of the abyss she gazed upon as the ship tilted so far to the side that all she could see was eager black hands of the waves crawling up the deck, ready to devour. She just had to survive it.
A red light caught her eye, stark against the overwhelming black sea and sky. So caught was she by the hypnotising line running through the water, like a glowing red vein beneath the waves, that she didn’t notice Makku trying to haul her towards the relative safety of below.
A memory struck her, of another storm, another life. Back when she had been running from rather than to. Icy cold fear slid down her gullet, her hand slapping against Makku’s shoulder. “Look!” she screamed, fighting to be heard. “Do you see?”
Narrowing his eyes, he spun to follow her shaking finger. A hand flipped up to cover his eyes, mouth hanging open as if he could not believe what was happening. She thought maybe she heard him swear but it might have been a trick of the wind.
“It’s coming for us!”
Sure enough the light grew brighter and brighter, the red piercing the darkness like a beacon. Then another red stripe appeared, running parallel to the first. Kilai could do nothing but watch as they grew in size, until she could make out the faint suggestion of a shape beneath the swirling currents stirred up by the tempest. A cry fell from her lips as a long snout broke the water, the light bright enough to blind. Huge, snapping jaws swung open wide and then crashed down on the ship, wood splintering and creaking beneath its maw. Wrenching its head back, the creature bellowed into the night, a stench wafting from its direction, before it slipped back into the water.
Kilai screamed as the ground fell away from her, clutching tight at Makku. Her vision blurred. The next thing she knew she was tumbling down the deck, each thump a blast of pain to her body before she plunged into freezing cold water. The shock squeezed the air from her lungs and she panicked. Unable to see, she struggled against the force of the current tugging her to and fro, legs kicking at nothing. Her lungs burned. Every instinct commanded she breathe but she held fast to her nerve, clawing frantically for a surface she couldn’t find.
Then the waves spat her back out into the storm and she sucked air into her lungs like she had never tasted it before in her life. She latched onto a piece of flotsam, sagging over it with all her strength leaking out of her. The relief of being able to breathe was quickly soured by fear. Rain pelted her, trying to force her back under. And somewhere below lurked the beast of nightmares.
Survival seemed an impossible task. But she would hold on, for Kilai still had a horizon to find.
*
They attended the ceremony because it seemed rude not to. Not that it stopped Neyvik from shooting glares over her shoulder, tucked away as they were at the back of the prayer room. Janus was mostly obscured by the shadow cast by a pillar reaching up towards a domed ceiling but Rook could not do anything except stand out, her pale hair stark against the dusty gloom of the room. The only windows were high above, streaming in watery light from a grey sky, murky with the promise of rain to come. He could feel it in the air, the shifting air currents ushering in a new season.
“We unite here today to bid farewell to Thiemi on her journey to rebirth….”
The rest of the rift maidens not involved in the ceremony itself were piled in on the front benches that circled around the altar at the centre of the room, light falling in one pale beam upon the body draped in colourful cloth of various fabrics in the centre. By the looks of it each of the girls had stitched a piece on themselves – something of sentimental value for Thiemi to help her find her way back. Hika and another woman lit candles around her, murmuring a prayer as they did.
If rebirth was so easy Janus would shoot himself right there and then.
“Are you sure you want to stay? They do not seem to be too fond of either of us after what happened.” Rook whispered.
He nodded. There was something about the place. A sanctuary tucked away from the vestiges of civilisation. Away from the roads and cities so interwoven with memories and marks of the identities he had worn over the years. Here, in this place where they worshipped renewal; a constant cleansing of the spirit. Perhaps it was hiding. Perhaps it was simply needing refuge for weary bones and a wearier heart. But he wanted to stay for a while. To stop running from all that he was and all that he could be.
“…As we light these candles to guide her way…”
“Kind of used to people hating m
e.”
Rook met his gaze and nudged his shoulder, shaking her head. “I never hated you, Janus. I was angry, when you betrayed us. I still don’t really understand why you did what you did but – but I think I get that something in you needs healing. Just like I do.”
“You ready?”
“For facing my family?” She dipped her head, eyes flickering from side to side before back up to him. “Yes, I think I am.”
Bumping his shoulder against hers in return, he let the words of the rift maidens wash over him, sinking into the wooden bench in his exhaustion. The room was not as fine as some of the churches he had been to in the cities, simple furnishings and a pair of murals on the wall depicting Lai Kusok and Var Kunir in their eternal battle for dominion the only real decoration. Var Kunir rode his beast from below the sea, red lightning striking the point immediately above his head. Lai Kusok rode atop a drake with shining gold scales, the paint shimmering when Janus tilted his head. He wondered where such stories had come from, to become such a common narrative in the religious teachings of the islands. He couldn’t help but wonder how it was that some stories dusted over in the cellars of time, while others became glorified icons, carefully preserved through the ages.
“Now we release our fallen to sister so that she may find her way back to this land.”
Janus stood, following the rift maidens as they rose as one, kobis trailing over the ground when they marched down the aisles to the centre. Handles were placed at equidistant places on the stretcher beneath the body and several girls lined up to help lift her onto their shoulders, faces blank of pain. They then continued down the line to the door at the back of the room, marching to the same pace, footsteps light but echoing against a high ceiling. Something about the procession was so pure that even a man like Janus could not disturb the hush that had fallen upon them all. So he kept his distance, trailing behind with Rook at his shoulder.
Outside they stepped into a small courtyard around which the building surrounded itself. A path of unevenly cut stones led the way through grass to a conical structure built from wood. A pyre. Between the logs and broken branches they placed the body down, ensuring her face was covered by the patchwork shroud. A hand dropped from the carrier, pale and boneless, fingers dangling. Janus couldn’t put his finger on why it disturbed him when he had seen so much death it had become his companion. Perhaps it was the awkward stitching on the blanket, mismatched colours handwoven together with love. Perhaps it was the girls gathered around, heads held high even as their shining cheeks betrayed them. Tucked into the sanctuary of Hika’s arms, Yukara sobbed.
Neyvik appeared from behind them with a torch, flames trickling up to the sky. “Now we release Thiemi’s spirit. Once she has completed her journey she will find her way back to this realm. Back to us.” And with that she touched the fire to the wood, orange eating up the brown until it turned black. Smoke disintegrated into a sombre sky. It clogged up his nostrils with the smell and he pressed his sleeve to his nose to filter it, watching as the fire burned.
In unison the girls began to pray.
It was ridiculous to assume that her spirit was being released, or that it would come back. It was just smoke. Smoke, escaping into a sky so overcast it felt like night time, like Var Kunir had won and banished Lai Kusok’s daylight forever more. It was ridiculous, and yet. Vallnor Siklo and his sister had been reborn; Viktor was proof of that much. Perhaps the real folly was to dismiss it all when he had witnessed such fantastical things with his own eyes. Perhaps there was more to the smoke than met the eye after all.
Rook leant over to murmur in his ear. “I’m just going to go and pack my things.”
Janus nodded. He chose not to point out that Rook had very little to pack and that it would take her all of a moment’s effort. He chose not to comment on her red, puffy eyes, or the skittish way her gazed surveyed the scene before her.
“You’ll come see me off, right?”
Janus smiled at her. “Of course.”
Then she left him to watch the smoke swirl and fade, the fire crackling as it burned higher and higher. Sweat dripped down his neck from the heat, staving off the bitter chill that lingered beneath, just waiting to swoop back in as soon as the flame died out. The patterns the fire made were hypnotising; he found his eyes glued to the pyre for a long time, contemplating. Eventually it was only he alone that remained with Neyvik, her back to him. She stood so close to the pyre he didn’t know how she wasn’t burning up.
He took a step, ready to leave, when she whipped around. Her eyes were dry but red around the rims, chin held high. “If your companion leaves you must too. Men cannot stay here without a chaperone.”
“Not here to bother anyone,” he said. “Don’t have any interest in it.”
“Oh?” Her smile was an untruth. “Are you a monk then?” Dark eyes swept him up and down with an air of scepticism.
“Close enough.”
Neyvik snorted, shaking her head. “I’ve seen your type before, soldier. Do not think you are unique.”
Janus found his lips curling. “Not looking to be original, Neyvik-dan. Only looking for peace.”
“And you think you will find it here, do you?
He shrugged, watching her bristle beneath his gaze. Janus knew how to level the hardest of men with a simple look. She twitched, lips pursing, but she resisted looking away from him.
“You still need to leave. Those are the rules.”
“Can swear an oath if that’ll convince you.”
“I would not trust your word if you came to me naked and begging. You are no monk. We do not host mercenaries who think a simple mark makes them one of us.”
It seemed there would be little convincing her, and Janus was not slick of tongue the way Sandson or Kilai were, able to turn the conversation in such a way as to make their mark believe they themselves were the ones doing them a favour. In frustration he sighed, picking at a loose thread unravelling from a hole in the arm of his coat. He had spent so much of his life learning how to either be unnoticeable or intimidating and now he had no idea how to present himself simply as a someone. As Janus Lakazar, for all he knew that person to be. Even Rook could do a better job of it than he, but he could not always rely on others to be peacemakers for him.
He was just about to speak when voices filtered through from inside, rising sharply in volume. Neyvik’s head turned and then she was running in the direction of the commotion, surprisingly nimble for a girl in a long robe and sandals. Following her, he found Hika and another of the maidens facing off the two rift wardens from the day before, a clear dividing line between both parties, bodies angled towards one another with arms crossed.
“You have no jurisdiction here. You must leave immediately,” said Neyvik before hearing any of the conversation. Marching into the gap between them, she glared the two men back a few paces.
“If you cannot handle this yourselves we have no option but to interfere. Can you not see the way the rift falters?” said the fair haired one, narrowing his eyes.
“And whose fault is that? There would be no problem if any of you knew how to do your own jobs. Leave us be and tend to your own matters.”
“And just walk away? We’d be breaking oath.”
Janus met Hika’s worried gaze. He did not understand the politics at play; at who had authority of what and why. Janus didn’t care. But he wasn’t about to stand by and listen to them threaten a group of women who had just lost a friend. He knew what that pain felt like.
“It’s clear that you don’t know what you’re doing,” said the rift warden, stepping into Neyvik’s space. “You aren’t equipped to deal with this so back down, little maiden, before the rest of you perish as your friend did.”
Neyvik looked like she would happily tear his throat out with her teeth, jaw clenched so tight Janus could almost hear her teeth grind.
The warden took one more step forward and in the time it took him to realise it had happened, Janus had flipped out his g
un and pressed it to the man’s forehead. “Time to leave. You heard the lady.”
His eyes swivelled around, flinching in surprise. “What in the Locker are you doing? Are you witless?”
“Janus, back off,” snapped Neyvik, not taking her eyes off the warden.
“Ren, maybe we should –”
Ren waved away his companion. “I’m the one who has the authority here. I’ll decide what happens. Not some girls in costume playing at being women.”
Maybe it was sheer arrogance that caught him off guard but the man clearly wasn’t expecting Neyvik to draw back and crack him over the face, face a storm as she stood over him with bloody knuckles. Ren stumbled back, fingers catching the gush of crimson from his nostrils. Anger flashed in his eyes and he lunged for her but his companion grabbed his arm and held him back, murmuring in his ear.
“Get off me, Kardak! I’ll show this woman what she gets for breaking her oath –”
A resounding bang smothered the man’s words, settling over the tension in the room like a carpet of snow. Janus stepped up to Neyvik’s side, revolver smoking from the barrel. Debris scattered from the ceiling. “Neyvik-dan might have an oath against violence,” he said. “But I don’t.”
“Please,” said Kardak, the reedier, dark haired rift warden, raising his palms in a gesture of placation, “we do not mean for violence here. We were on our way to Tsellyr to investigate the lack of communication from the Order’s headquarters when we noticed an unusual amount of spiritual activity here. It would be against our oath to turn a blind eye.” His eyes flickered to the tattoo on Janus’ wrist, uncovered in the scuffle. “As you must know.”
Janus yanked down his sleeve. “Am no Riftkeeper. Should run on home. There are none to be found in Tsellyr.”
“What do you mean, there are none in Tsellyr?”
“I don’t care about you Riftkeepers, always lording over us. We are not your servants.” Neyvik wiped her knuckles on the sleeve of her kobi, to Hika’s disdain. “So you will quieten down or you will leave.”
The Rising Tide Page 11