The Rising Tide

by Sarah Stirling

  “Go on,” said a familiar voice. “Try me.”

  “Let’s just go, Taewor. This one isn’t worth it,” said another of the soldiers.

  The man huffed. For a moment Kilai thought he was about to push it but he shook his head, retreating with one last kick of the man on the ground. “Get him home. Make sure he obeys his curfews from now on or I’ll be coming to see you personally, Nogan.”

  Kilai skittered behind a cluster of bushes as the soldiers marched past, heart thumping. Once they were gone she counted to ten before peeking her head over the top of the leaves, only unfurling her cramped form once she had affirmed the way was clear. She ran towards the alley, where Nogan and another woman were carrying a beaten and bruised man out, his head lolling onto his chest. Words were slurred from his mouth but she was unable to make them out. As she stopped before them, Nogan met her gaze and passed the man’s arm onto his companion, standing just shy of a pool of lamplight.

  “Do you see now?”

  Then he walked on after his party.

  Kilai heard more footsteps and turned to see Makku, Ivor and Jorkell coming towards her.

  “Oi,” said Makku, piercing the stillness of the night, “where are you going, old man?”

  Nogan resurfaced from between the houses, eyes like black pits sucking in the light. “Are you willing to finish what your captain started?”

  Kilai frowned, stepping into the small semi-circle they made around him. “How would we even go about that?”

  Nogan laughed but it was a cold, joyless sound. “I know when the next ship comes in.” He slipped something into his hand and held it up to the light. In the gloom it almost seemed to glow, a vibrant shade of cyan that swirled and shimmered inside the glass vial. “How do you fancy a trip to the continent?”

  Kilai glanced at Makku, his gaze locked on the vial in Nogan’s hand. He drew a sharp breath and then met her in the eye. So brief she almost missed it, he nodded. Biting her lip, she looked at Jorkell, whose gaze was firm, and then finally at Ivor, his expression unreadable.

  Adventure she had sought and adventure had she found. It wasn’t anything like Kilai had imagined it would be but now that she was standing there, with no clear idea of how to make sense of her past, and nothing but storm clouds obscuring her future, she had no idea how to escape the power of its riptide. If this was her destiny, it was sure doing a good job of confusing her path. But maybe that was the point. Fate couldn’t make things too easy for her, it seemed. So there was really little else to do but to take the plunge. To dive into the murky depths yawning out before her.

  “What do you want us to do?”

  Apparently she was to be the leader once more, for when she spoke the words her companions gathered closer, expressions a mirror for her mustered courage. Well, she would just have to do a better job this time. Kilai was no Kallan but she had survived the storm anyway and that had to count for something.

  Nogan smiled. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

  *

  The snow thickened with every step Rook took through the forest, wind bullying her off her path with such powerful gusts that her eyes watered and her skin stung. Each step was an effort, strength stolen by the frigid air as she trudged through a layer of snow so deep it came up to her knees. The tighter the trees sprung up from the slope the more shelter she was afforded from the piercing wind, howling between the branches and dumping more snow atop her head, so she plunged on despite the burning in her legs. Her frozen fingers curled into her palms, desperately seeking body heat. As soon as her breath left her body it froze into clouds.

  In the sweltering heat of the high season in the north, she had forgotten just what true cold weather felt like, nestling down tight beneath the layers of fur and wool she had bought from a merchant in the city of Lyrshok. Now she found herself caught in a dangerous snowstorm, traversing the forest path that would take her south of the city, towards both the outpost for the Order of the Riftkeepers, and beyond that to the mountain village that was the place of her birth. If she had more sense, she might have waited for the guides who would take her by chakka; creatures with thick, heavy coats and legs like tree trunks, used for carrying goods through the worst of this kind of weather.

  But Rook had been born with a deficiency of sense and, with the creeping hand of urgency grasping at her, had decided she could not afford to wait out the numerous blizzards that plagued the island at this time of year. Besides, she was not alone. Dipping down into the well of her power, the tether between her and The Rook snapped taut, power surging through her. It danced in her veins, warding off the cold that leached the strength from her limbs. She could feel it stretch its wings eagerly, frustrated by her silence on her journey south. She had been afraid of the consequences and thus kept the bond tucked away, leaving her numb to the lines of energy running through the world as she made her journey south.

  Now they flared to life all around her, shimmering with colours and vibrating with the hum of the spiritual. Here, in this part of the world, the energy seemed so much more potent, crackling with the tide of the rifts so close by she could taste it on the air. Rook sucked it in and opened her eyes to the dancing spirits of the forest, unperturbed by snow like physical beings such as she. Their bright, burning lights guided her way through the haze of white and grey, flakes clinging to her lashes.

  She was exhausted, numb all over, but she couldn’t stop now. Now when she had come so far. Yet every step she grew closer, the stronger the desire to turn around grew. For it was one thing to have the commitment to return home – to find where it all began – but it was yet another entirely to push through the colossal trunks of the trees towering so high above they blocked out the sky. It was another to smell the familiar scent of pine and otherworldly essence. To remember the bite of ice against her skin and the cut of the wind tugging her hair from its braid. To rekindle memories of the darkness and the fire warring over the planes of her father’s face and the sweet rush of letting it all go when she lost control.

  “I do not know what awaits us here,” she mumbled, just to test her frozen lips.

  The Rook squawked in her head, startling a riftspawn flitting through the branches of a tree above her head. It darted away from her, splitting apart into tiny shards of itself that bounced along on the sharp air currents blowing in from the mountains. She could feel the echo of tension vibrate through the air, other spirits picking up on the startled riftspawn further afield. They recognised her signature and the strength behind it. They knew if she wanted to, she could slaughter them all and take their power for hers. How to reassure them she would not, she did not know, and perhaps that was the problem. Even with a riftspawn in her head she did not know how to communicate with them.

  Fight, devour and take.

  She wiped at the snot running down her nose and grimaced. A vicious gust sneaked beneath her furs, her skin pimpling as she shivered. “I thought we talked about this.”

  Pausing for breath, she hid in the nest of a massive pine tree, its bottom branches so large that they had formed a bed of brown pine needles beneath, free from the clutches of the snow. Ducking down into a pocket of warmth, she shook the snow clinging to her furs and wiped at her face, barely able to feel her fingers on her face. All around her the blizzard howled and shrieked, warning her against daring to step back into its wrath. The bark scraped her palm as she tightened her grip, sagging against the tree. Her eyelids were growing heavy and she wanted nothing more than to lie down and curl up. But it was a dangerous desire. One she could not indulge in with the weather only worsening by the minute.

  Digging into her satchel, she pulled out some ekker root and chewed on it, wincing at the rancid taste. Soon the stimulant raced through her, fire rushing in her veins, jerking her out of her sluggish state. Then she rifled through the rest of her things, plucking out a worn pair of goggles she had pilfered from an angry courier who had hissed at her and called her names she dared not dwell on. Well, if she had to give
fate a little helping hand in giving him his deserving comeuppance, she was happy to nudge it in the right direction. She pulled them over her head, the band catching on the knotted tangle of her braid, and took a few conservative sips of the water she had been able to thaw between her hands.

  “I’m going to need your help on this one, old friend.”

  The Rook cawed, resounding in her head. She chose to interpret it as, why didn’t you do so already? Smiling, she ducked her head out to test her goggles, pleased when they shielded her eyes from the worst of the snowfall. The branches above her shook and swayed, dusting her with flakes and pine needles from above. She sneezed, pawing at her nose. “I hope that’s not a bad sign.”

  With some of her energy rejuvenated, she had almost forgotten just how tiring it was to trudge through the wall of snow building on the path up the mountain. Her breaths echoed in her ears with each crunch into the deeper parts of it, now nearly at the level of her hip. By this rate, she thought, trying to peer up in the general direction she sought, she would be completely snowed under before she reached the top. It was going to require a little supernatural help, even if she loathed to do it.

  “Are you ready?”

  The Rook surged up to meet her when she spiralled down into the pool of their shared power, careful not to let its enthusiasm take her over. The power was that much more tempting for her weary, cold body and she had to fight it off, walking the delicate tightrope of just enough for what she needed and no more, to The Rook’s chagrin. Standing steadfast against the buffeting wind, she plunged both hands into the snow and focused on expelling the energy outwards. Riftspawn danced into the net of her web, attracted by the way her signature flared under so much power. She used the energy of the rift and that of the nearby riftspawn to mould the snow to her whims, feeling it give beneath the command of her mind. Once it became something new – something of both this world and the otherworld – it became much more mutable. Already lacking form, the snow was much easier to convince to change than something solid and living, like the mighty trees around her.

  With a precarious grip on the thread of energy between she and The Rook, and consequently with the rift, she thrust the snow outwards, clearing a thin path between the towering walls of white on either side that revealed the frozen mud beneath. Moving so much mass at once drained her all at once and she cut the tether, sagging forwards as she struggled for breath. The connection between her and her riftspawn sparked out for a moment, leaving her numb and weakened, but as she took her first baby steps upon the bare ground, she felt it slip back into place, only so faint she could barely reach for it. The Rook was nothing but a phantom in the back of her mind.

  “This is a little better,” she murmured. It helped, when she was all alone, to talk to The Rook. Her solitary companion. She missed the dream team. Her kashei. Viktor’s grumbling, Kilai’s worrying, and Janus’ laconism. Without them she realised that she had been so terribly lonely before their fateful meeting. Now she couldn’t even remember herself without the context of them by her side, helping her to see things in ways she often couldn’t on her own. Perhaps it was time she figured that out, so that she might be all the better when they met again.

  Because they would. If there was one thing she was sure of, she was sure of that. They would reunite once again.

  It might have been her weariness, having drained herself of so much energy so that it might make her journey easier, but her senses had worn out, numbed by the blistering cold of the snowstorm. So worn were they, that she did not sense the signature until it was close enough to make her gag, exuding waves of such icy force she felt like she was being dragged beneath a great crashing tidal wave, jerked back and forth by currents beyond her control. Even The Rook was sluggish in its warning, cries faint in her ear. Rook craned her neck but all she could see in every direction was nothing but an endless white haze. Her nostrils flared and she felt the telltale trickle leaking from her nose. The blood was stark against the blinding foreground of snow.

  Suddenly the trees around her began to shake, gasping at the presence winding between their huge trunks and loosing pine needles from their branches. A flicker of a long black tail caught her eye and she halted, crouching low in her makeshift clearing between two banks of snow on either side. Instinctively her hands moved towards her blades even though she barely had the strength to lift her arms, never mind try to fight the beast of the forest. But if it decided she was threatening the place it had made its home in this world, then she would have no choice but to fight. For Drekkugo were notoriously territorial. It was not malicious by nature but it would not hesitate to kill if it felt threatened.

  The ground rumbled beneath her feet, rolling out like thunder across the sky. The sound echoed all around, until she found herself disorientated, unable to tell where it came from. For a riftspawn so large it should have not been so hard to spot – not when this one shone obsidian black against a canvas of pure white – but that was the power of these creatures. They changed the things around them at their will, natural laws be damned.

  When all quietened down once more, except for the whistling wind tousling her hair, Rook tentatively continued on her journey. The signature of the riftspawn still plagued her, so overwhelming it could not be ignored. But Rook was nothing if not determined and she couldn’t last out in the storm for much longer. She had to reach shelter soon or she was going to freeze to death out in the wilderness.

  “At least that way I won’t need to face him again,” she muttered, stuttering out a laugh that mutated into a scream as a giant head appeared between two trees, snout hovering just above the layer of snow on the ground. Two golden eyes stared at her from a dragon-shaped face, skin an oily black and faintly translucent. Antler-esque horns protruded from its head, growing pine needles from the gnarled branches. It did not move at all, unfazed by the raging winds and snow. The pulsing of its signature hit her in waves, The Rook’s cries weak but present in her mind.

  “Hello there,” she said, fighting the urge to take a step back. To show weakness in this moment would not be a wise move. So instead she took a step forward, spooling out the weak embers of the power she was able to tap into. When her consciousness brushed its, she shivered, feeling the coldness of its aura. This creature was accustomed to the ice and snow. Perhaps that had even attracted it to this place in the first place, so devoid of other life that could threaten its stake.

  I’m just passing through, she tried. Talking with spirits was difficult, for they could not understand language in the human sense. But Rook was not entirely human; not any longer. She had to hope the part of her that was now riftspawn could help her talk to this beast. She did not have the strength to fight it.

  Mine, resounded in her head, like the shriek of the wind, like the distant groaning of an avalanche tumbling down from the mountains. Rook. She could see The Rook in her mind’s eye – a huge white bird with pink eyes, glowing with a shimmering grey aura that curled into the air like smoke – and it came with the cloying taste of anger and fear. Intruder. Her, in this creature’s eye. Strange and pale and hairy, these weird walking worms of the physical world.

  They were not words, as such, but sensations. Echoes of this creature’s thoughts – or as close as it got to thoughts in its consciousness. In the otherworld riftspawn were seldom strong enough to maintain a permanent identity, swept away by the currents of a world where nothing was tangible. Riftspawn bled into one another, and into the world around them, each time becoming something new. Even The Rook had cobbled together a sense of self from the many other lives that had come before it. Just as she and it now existed, a hybrid that was neither the spirit it had once been, nor the girl she had been.

  I am The Rook. We are The Rook.

  The creature shot forward and it took all her will not to scramble out of its presence, overwhelmed by the sheer size and scope of its power. Its signature chilled her, hitting her like an icy blast of the blizzard, and she buried deeper into her woo
ls and furs. These riftspawn were not malicious. If she could prove she would not cause any harm, it would not hurt her. She had to be brave.

  Reaching out, she sucked in a breath, and ignored the shrill cries of The Rook. Dropping her fingers onto the riftspawn’s snout, she jolted as ice cold fire raced down her hand, her whole arm tingling. Gritting her teeth against the sensation, she opened up her mind to the creature. Home. I want to go home. But that wasn’t quite the truth, for if she could have turned off the niggling voice in her head telling her she had unresolved issues within herself, she would have happily marched back down the mountain and taken the first ship away from this frozen tundra of an island.

  I need to go home. Please. I am a guardian of this world.

  It did not understand what a rift warden was, of course. It did not understand that she only wanted to protect this world the way it wanted to protect what it had claimed as its forest. But it raised its head as if to appraise her, the long, gnarled horns bedecked with pine needles atop its head spiralling into wisps of black smoke that dissipated up into the air. Its mouth opened and between rows of needle-like teeth shimmered lights like those of the rift, iridescent and colourful. A rumbled sound from deep inside its belly grew into a great, bellowing roar, so loud the trees quivered in its wake, the sound bouncing off the distant mountains obscured by a blustering sky.

  All at once the wind died, the air suddenly so still she could hear her heart thumping in her chest, and the snow faded into a weak flurry, dusting her cheeks and nose with soft petals of ice. The sky cleared, breaking free from the oppression of the clouds to reveal a bright, sunny day high above, the light bouncing off the white that layered the pillars of the conical trees surrounding them. Rook gazed all around her in wonder, breathing in the beauty of the landscape. She was still exhausted but simply seeing such a sight instantly lifted her spirits, replenishing her strength for the final climb.