Hauling himself up so he could pry the bullet from his flesh, he caught the eyes of Nevi on the floor. Her back bowed, form shaking as the spirit inside her took hold. Her hands were stretched out upon the floor, turning to liquid. Vallnor’s own hand was buried in his gut, digging through flesh and blood for the piece of metal inside him, and for a brief moment he could imagine the pain she must have been in, writhing on the ground. His nail scraped the bullet and he shuddered, pain searing through him and fire rising from his skin in response. The phoenix frantically tried to heal its vessel, at the same time that Vallnor tried to hold it off until he could get it out. There. Managing to secure a grip, he gritted his teeth, breaths coming quick and shallow, and wrenched it from himself. Fire quickly spread to his wound, tickling his side as the tender flesh knitted back together.
Vallnor brandished the blood-slick bullet to the light, smiling triumphantly. Both the healing and the expelling of so much power had weakened him significantly and he sucked in more with the greed of a starving man. Senses dulling, it made the screams more bearable. Blood and gore ran from the desks, puddles of it pooling on the floor. Somehow Nevi was still alive, trembling upon the ground as her body crumpled beneath the weight of what it was never supposed to bear.
“You understand what you have done, don’t you?” said Sandson.
The words were so soft Vallnor almost missed them. But the intensity of Sandson’s gaze was an entirely different story; golden eyes blazing and his hands planted on the table before him, chin tilted upwards. Defiant. That was okay. If Vallnor was Sandson, he would probably be angry too.
“Some messages cannot be conveyed in words. A man like yourself might not understand that but –”
“Oh, I understand,” he said. “I believe it is you who misunderstands. Vallnor Siklo, you have just started a war.”
It would be moments before reinforcements burst through the door. Vallnor should leave before they showed up but he just could not get his legs to move. The hubris of this man astounded him. All Vallnor had to do was snap his fingers and he would die a painful death. How these mere mortals managed to do anything at all with that constant cloud above their heads, he did not know.
“What makes you think I did not want a war?”
“I do not think you know what it will mean.” He shook his head with a sardonic laugh. He didn’t so much sit as fell into his chair, resting his chin on his hands. “No, you do not see it. You are blinded by your past. It has shut off your eye to the future.”
Vallnor frowned, perturbed by his reaction. But before he could react, the door rattled and then slammed open, a number of soldiers pouring in. One of them included the lieutenant who had recognised him – had recognised Viktor – each of them with their weapons raised. The sealing wound throbbed and he braced himself for escape.
Vallnor was not in the habit of running away, but exhausted and drained, he would gain nothing that had not already been gained from his actions in that room. Calling as much fire as he could to his weary limbs, nearly singeing his connection to the phoenix with the force of it, he gathered it for a distraction. Vallnor was not a coward like Viktor, but that didn’t mean he did not know the sense in a strategic retreat.
“Sorry Weishei,” he said with a grin, “but I’m a little too tired for games right now.”
Then he threw the fire outwards, exploding into a ball of shimmering green and blue. Vallnor ran with the screams ringing out behind him, burnt out from using so much power.
But this time Vallnor did not run as a coward.
*
The tracks continued through the jungle. Makku had fashioned a large tree branch into a kind of staff and used it to hack at the foliage creeping in on them, wrestling with the swooping vines and a dense network of smaller branches. Conversation ground to a halt, the sounds of their laboured breathing filling the quiet, interspersed with the chattering of birds and insects. As the sun started its gradual descent into the trees, the heat escaped the confines of the day, a chill creeping in from the sea.
Kilai’s ankle throbbed, hobbling on one foot once it became too painful to put all of her weight on it. Everywhere felt sore and stiff from being jolted around the ship in the storm, bruises purpling her skin, but she did not dare let on to the others. She was still holding onto the desperate hope that there would be some mark of civilisation nearby.
Every so often Ivor would send her curious looks and eventually she took to glaring him back into line. The last thing she wanted was a fuss. Ivor, however, only chuckled and shook his head, falling back a step so they came into line. “You’re a right tyrant, aren’t you, Shaikuro?”
“It’s Kilai.”
He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and grimaced. “I don’t think so.”
She had been taught about the cultural practices of the Sonlin, of course. But Janus had put so little emphasis on it she had forgotten that Janus was hardly a normal representative of his people. “Does the informality offend you?”
“It’s just weird, is what it is. I mean, I don’t know you. I can’t be going around calling people their given names like it’s nothing.”
“But you forget about honorifics.”
He rubbed at a scab on his cheek. “It’s hard to remember them all. Hard enough to learn this bloody language and all its weird scribbles.”
She laughed. “Well, from where I’m standing it’s weird when you call me by my family name. I’m no longer in office.”
His eyebrows shot to his hairline. “In office?”
Before she could explain Makku whipped around, a finger to his lips as he made a shushing sound. He then cupped his ear and pointed, crouching down in the undergrowth.
It was a bit much given the protection of the trees but Kilai found herself mimicking him anyway, ankle protesting as she fell onto her haunches and braced herself with a hand in the damp earth and dead leaves. They had reached the edge of the densest part of the jungle, open land sprawling out beyond the thinning copse of trees. Through the gaps in the trunks she could see tents flapping in the wind and the golden eyes of oil lanterns creaking on rusty hinges. A soft round of laughter started up from the biggest tent in the centre of the settlement, startling her enough that she overbalanced and collided with Jorkell, whose hands steadied her back onto her feet.
“Thanks,” she whispered, rubbing at her shoulder as it flared up too.
Jorkell clapped her on the precise spot she had fallen upon the night before and she winced, a sharp inhale of breath drawing Makku’s attention. Mistaking pain for fear, he said, “It’s fine. We can get past them easily enough. They won’t notice us.”
“There are guards standing watch right there,” hissed Ivor, pointing at the men with their arms crossed behind their backs, standing to attention at either side of the widest tent. Another patrolled the perimeter of their camp, although he spared only a cursory look at his surroundings, expression listless.
“Not a problem. We can time it fine. We just need to –”
“Are you witless?” said Ivor. “Has the sea washed out your brains and replaced them with kelp? Did it shrivel up with the saltwater? Are you going to –”
He yelped when Kilai pinched him and shot him a warning glare. “You’re going to attract attention.”
Sure enough, the soldier on patrol paused, glancing around him. Frowning, he began to walk towards where they hid and they all ducked at once, rustling the leaves. This only drew him closer, eyes roaming the underbush. In the darkness he most likely could not see them but Kilai’s heart raced all the same. She had experienced enough encounters with the military to last a lifetime. Right now she just wanted to survive the night and find a place to rest her head, be it bed or bunk. She’d settle for a good dry cave, if they didn’t get caught.
For a moment she thought they were going to get away with it. The soldier scanned the trees but ultimately deemed it nothing serious. With a shrug he turned at the call of the other guards. But at that momen
t a serpentine glowing shape appeared between the branches of a tree, winding its way down the trunk towards them. Startled, Ivor let loose a scream, falling back, and the soldier span on his heel. Kilai’s gut plummeted, figuring them for doomed.
Faster than her eye could follow, Makku leapt up and slapped a hand over the soldier’s mouth, dragging him into the darkness of the bushes. At the same time Jorkell rose with Makku’s makeshift staff in hand. Her hand rose and then plummeted, slamming into the man’s temple. Like a rag doll he crumpled, caught by Makku and tugged into the darkness. “Quick,” he said to Ivor, “put on his coat.”
Ivor’s mouth twisted. “I’m too big for him. No way they’re going to fall for that. Or the sudden beard.”
“Well I can’t speak your language so I’m no good! You’ll be too far away for them to see properly. You sound like him so that’s better.”
“I sound nothing like him! Do you assume we all sound like copies of one another, from Kar Anwan to Glendohn?”
“I don’t see why not.”
Kilai shared a weary look with Jorkell and pinched her nose. “Will you quit screaming at one another? Unless you want to knock out every damn soldier in this troop?”
They both eyed her and she tensed, raising her palms. “I’m far too short – don’t even think it.”
“You speak both languages,” said Makku.
“And you won’t burst out of his coat,” said Ivor.
“No. Absolutely not. What am I supposed to do about my accent? The long hair? My darker skin? Have you both scrambled your brains?”
The next thing she knew Ivor was stripping the soldier as Makku helped her stand. “It’ll work, trust me. You just walk around the back of the camp, call out that everything is okay to your buddies, and then skedaddle out of sight while we sneak past on the other side.”
The coat hit her over the head and she scrambled her way out of it to glare at Ivor, but as a shiver racked her body, she realised it would at least stave off the evening chill. The sleeves nearly fell to her fingers but it fit pretty snugly and she buried into it, unsure how to feel about the fact that it was still warm from the soldier’s body heat. She felt hands on her collar and tried to turn her head.
“Quit it, will you?” said Makku. “I’m tucking your hair in so it won’t be seen.”
“This is ridiculous.”
Jorkell looked her up and down and then nodded her head. “Not so bad.”
Kilai shook her head at her.
“Hurry up,” said Ivor, “they’re calling for the guard. In a minute they’ll be over here to see what’s wrong.”
“Aren’t I a little too obviously female?” She didn’t like the way Makku and Ivor both waved their hands. “What about the accent?”
“Your accent is pretty good.” Ivor’s hand pushed her between the shoulder blades until she was stumbling out of the bushes, exposed in the open field in which the soldiers had chosen to make their camp. “Make it a little raspier and you’re good to go.”
“You’re just glad you’re not the one who has to do this!” she snapped back at him, taking her first tentative step. Realising her awkwardness was only going to give her away, she straightened her spine and held her chin high, crossing her hands behind her back. Think like him, she chanted to herself, pretending she really was a soldier, simply going about her duties on the night patrol.
Seeing the figures by the main tent, she veered off to the left, hopefully drawing their attention to her so that the rest of the crew could sneak past to the right. She raised a hand in casual greeting, hoping they would let her keep going. At this distance, with the cover of the darkness, she was sure they wouldn’t be able to tell the difference unless they were really watching her closely. She could only hope the man didn’t have any distinctive characteristics but she hadn’t noticed a limp when she had observed him.
“Hey, Yrall, what took you so long?”
Kilai forced out a laugh, deeper than her normal voice. She hoped they couldn’t see her wince. “Just a racoon. Nothing to worry about.”
The guard nearest her tilted his head and she tried to keep her gait even, walking slowly away. “Is everything alright? You seem a little off?”
“Ah, really?” she said, voice coming out too high. “I mean, uh, I have a sore throat. I think I might be getting sick.” She coughed into her fist and held her breath. On the other side of the tent she could see three dark shapes slip past.
“Stay away from me, then. I have the night off tomorrow and I’m going into town with Jasha.”
She raised her palms. “I best keep far away then,” she said and attempted her most natural walk. She thought she looked stiff but she masked it with another fake cough, pace speeding up the further she got away. The path worn into the grass by so many feet beckoned her on, the sodden mud squelching beneath her boots. When she dared a look behind, she breathed a sigh of relief to see that no one had followed. Neither of the guards seemed concerned with her whereabouts; she could hear their voices rising above the crackling fires of the torches standing at the end of the camp, illuminating the path. The small bubble of light threw the shadows of the swaying trees into sharp relief, the rumble of the wind through their leaves making them seem alive, like something could come crawling out of the darkness at any moment.
“Hey,” she said as loud as she dared, “where did you go? It’s not funny now.”
Still no reply. A sense of uneasiness grew in the pit of her stomach, making her walk faster. The chirp of crickets and the buzz of cicadas provided a catalyst for her anxiety, rising in volume with her own thumping heart. She was beginning to fear the worst, mind racing through countless possibilities of all the things that could have possibly happened, when Makku jumped out from seemingly nowhere and appeared right in front of her.
Kilai loosed a scream and he slapped his palm over her mouth, the whites of his eyes shining as they widened. “Hush! What are you screaming for?”
“Why did you sneak up on me?”
“Come see, come see,” he said, gesturing. He was already bounding away from her, longer legs eating up the distance that she struggled to cover.
“Wait, where you going? Makkushar!”
“I told you to be quiet. Locker, Kilai, you’ll get us all caught.” Light surfaced on the horizon, turning him into a silhouette wreathed in gold. On either side of him stood the taller, broader shapes of Jorkell and Ivor.
“What is it?” she marched up to stand in line with him and gasped as the land rolled away from her, sloping down towards a valley floor. Nestled in the centre was a jewel of glowing amber, brightening up the darkness with beads of light. She knew this town; had seen it not that long ago, when she had traversed through a cave and swam through an underwater tunnel just to get to the top of the craggy valley side opposite where she stood now.
“You mean I went through all that just to get here again?”
Makku glanced at her and laughed. “Who cares? We found people. Good people.”
Ivor grunted. “Don’t go buying the shop out before you get your wages.”
“We can sleep in beds! Besides, this is Jorkell’s home town, that has to count for something.”
With weariness tugging at her eyelids, Kilai certainly couldn’t argue. But she couldn’t help wondering about those rebels she had met in the caves and the proximity of the Sonlin camp behind them, like fire creeping towards oil. The whole thing could only go up in flames.
Apparently Ivor noticed her consternation because he nudged her and murmured, “What is it?”
She shook her head. “Oh, you know, just the usual. Wondering what could go wrong this time.”
Ivor snorted. “Usually that’s my job.”
Kilai stared down at the twinkling lights. “I don’t know about that. think I had it first.”
*
“Janus-wei, Janus-wei!”
Janus did not slow his gait as he walked through the garden in the misty morning but he heard footsteps thum
p on the ground behind him, punctuated by soft huffs of breath. The reedier, dark haired rift warden stumbled to his side, his satchel slapping against his hip. His cheeks were flushed red and it took him a few attempts before he got the words out.
“I was hoping I might speak with you, Janus-wei.”
“Keep your titles.”
Kardak blinked, struggling to push up his glasses when he was still wrestling with the errant strap of his satchel. “Oh. Right, of course. Apologies, but I do not know your family name.”
“Not important.”
There was a beat of silence as Janus passed through an arch painted in gold and black, heading towards the actual temple building. “Yes, well, anyway I was hoping I might ask you a few questions. See, we’ve been having some trouble getting in contact with our brethren in Rillasok and –”
“They’re gone. Told you that.”
“What does that mean? How can they just be gone?”
Janus kept his pace brutal in the hopes it might shake the man. It didn’t.
“Do you know where they went? People don’t just disappear.”
“Didn’t find any to ask.”
There was a commotion up ahead, in a room just off the main hall. He could see shapes moving in the crack through the open door, voices rising, but he couldn’t make out any words over the blabbering in his ear. Stopping short, Kardak bumped into his shoulder, apologies tumbling from his lips, and Janus held up a hand to silence him. The man peered past his hand, trying to see what he was looking at.
“Shh. Just wait there.”
Knocking on the door, Janus pushed it the rest of the way open and peered into a smaller parlour room, two girls sitting across from Neyvik and Hika. Each of them wore formal kobi, buttoned up to their chins with long drooping sleeves, their hair braided up out of their faces. Beaded chains caught the light in their hair as all four turned to looked at him, three curious faces offset by Neyvik’s glare.
The Rising Tide Page 14