The Rising Tide

by Sarah Stirling

  Sometimes Vallnor wished he could choose which was which.

  Sighing, he did his best to style his still wet hair, curling at the ends in a way his hair never used to. Sparing a curse for Viktor, Vallnor finished buttoning up the kobi, spinning so that he could see the phoenix glistening across his back in gold thread. If he was going to play the part of the returned prince, he had to look it. So he stole one last look in the mirror – at a disenfranchised young man now playing at nobility – and steeled his nerve for whatever he was about to face.

  Distant music warbled through the long corridor that took him to the stairs, his shoes clicking against the marble like the missing drumbeat. The golden circlet he had placed upon his head threatened to slip and he took a moment to adjust it, hesitating outside the doors to the great hall. The rumble of laughter and chatter vibrated through his chest, feeling the signatures of other riftspawn – bonded riftspawn – jar with the pleasant hum of the phoenix in the back of his mind. It ruffled its feathers, waking up from its slumber with anger. It was exactly what he needed, the heady buzz of power trickling through his veins until the fire was only a whisper away from igniting, a comfort to his rattled nerves.

  Vallnor thrust open the doors hard enough to make them rattle, drawing the attention of the room. The hall was busier than he had expected, bustling with so many bodies dripping in their finest silks and shining gems. Every gaze upon him felt like thorns pricking his skin but he ignored it, lifting his chin and smiling a small, imperious smile. His eyes found Fyera in the middle of the room, surrounded by guests, and he glided towards her until they met in the very centre of the floor, a small ring forming around them.

  Fyera clapped for attention, her shoulder nudging him in a gesture of familiarity. As the conversation tapered off, she cleared her throat and began to speak. “Weishei, I thank you for taking the time to attend this celebration. I know some of you have come from far, some of you knowing us by name only. But the bonds between our families are not forgotten, just as we are not. There has been much talk about whether we truly are the Siklo heirs and what this would mean for the Myrliks if it happened to be true but I wish to set the record straight.”

  She paused to catch his eye, emeralds sparkling in the crown nestled in her dark curls. “Vallnor and I stand before you now, the same twins who graced the walls of the Jade Palace some two hundred years ago. Yes,” she said, voice rising over the murmur of the crowed, “we are one and the same. Our lives were stolen unjustly and many thought our legacy over. But here we are, once more, to right those wrongs. We are here to bring the Myrliks back to their true heritage. To restore the rightful rulers to our people and cast off the savages that have invaded our islands.”

  Amongst the crowed Vallnor spotted Lord Sandson, expression impassive as he watched on. His gold eyes flickered to him and a shudder racked his spine, suddenly back in that room where he had been so overwhelmingly furious. No, the phoenix had been furious; at his fear and his weakness. Furious that so many thought so little of its power. So together they had snuffed them out like candle flames in the bathing chambers. As if life was as expendable as dripping wax and a cut of wick. To Vallnor it certainly was, but to Viktor…

  Viktor is gone. There was only Vallnor now. That was the only truth he accepted and so it would be.

  “Vallnor?”

  He snapped to Fyera’s gritted teeth. She raised her brows and flicked her eyes outwards. Feeling the sudden weight of so many gazes upon him, Vallnor began to sweat. But just as the fear threatened to overwhelm him, his bond to the phoenix tugged at him, flooding him with power. With the righteous pride and fury of a creature older than the very world they lived in. To the phoenix they were nothing but tiny ants, crawling beneath its feet to be pecked at. So short of life.

  Unlike me. I will go on and on and on for eternity.

  That certainty transformed him. “Yes, it has been a long journey back to our ancestral home. But time means so little to us, when we carry our line – our legacy – beyond the normal spans of men. So I think this was only an inevitability, that Fyera and I would find one another again.” He paused, flashing his teeth.

  “The Myrliks need us now, to rid us of these Dusklanders who have invaded our lands. We are here to take a stand. We are here to claim back our islands, our home. We are here to get revenge for our murders. For the slaughtering of our family. For the oppression and cruelty and fear. We are here. We are here to bring the light that will guide us from this period of darkness.”

  They do not smile. They do not cheer for you.

  Vallnor raised his palm, Fyera mirroring him on the other side. Feeling the tug on the bond, the flames erupted from their hands at the same time, a ball of sparking green fire, rich with the scent of the otherworld, and as spiritually potent as the rift itself. Together they turned, pushing their palms closer and closer until the balls of fire merged into one huge crackling globe, burning through viridian and cyan and jade all in one. Like a heart it expanded and contracted, so bright that all in the room had to shield their eyes from its blinding light.

  Yanking back on the thread that connected them, the flame faded out in a shimmer of green sparks, the room suddenly dim in its absence. No chandelier could possibly compete with the miniature sun he had held between his hands, the shadows stretching out across the floor. There was a stunned silence, some guests glancing between one another as if waiting for someone to tell them how to react.

  And then someone stepped forward. Leinahm Sha, raising his fist. “Rill ja korshi! Rillan laishi!”

  Vallnor raised his fist in return. “Dusk fall. Dawn rise.”

  The phrase rippled through the room, others raising their fists one after another until all he could see was hands raised all around them. Through the raised fists his eyes found Sandson again, his posture tense, both arms at his sides.

  Vallnor extended his fist out to him, a smile sliding onto his face.

  *

  “Did you really see my impersonation the last time and think, yes, we should have that girl pose as more soldiers? Is that really what we’re going for?”

  “Careful,” said Makku, crouched beside Kilai in the undergrowth, peering out at the creek beside the makeshift Sonlin camp, “I think the Dusklander is rubbing off on you.”

  On her other side Ivor grunted. “Call me that one more time. I dare you.”

  “Oh? I’ll take you up on that. What’s the wager?”

  Kilai planted a hand on either shoulder and shoved them away from her. “Quieten down, will you? You’re going to draw attention.”

  Further down, Nogan blended into the shrubbery and trees, remarkably still and silent. What he thought of their sorry crew she could not possibly imagine, but the more she had to mediate their squabbles, the more she wished she could leave both of them behind and do this herself.

  But she didn’t truly think that, reliant on the familiarity of their noise to fill the empty void in her heart. Her family, her friends. Kilai missed them all terribly. Without Makku, Ivor and Jorkell she would be truly alone, drifting without direction on a tireless sea.

  “Here they come,” she hissed as the voices sounded over the burbling water, patting each of them until they lowered their heads and stilled. Their boots crunched against the carpet of dead leaves, bursts of orange and red like fire engulfing the forest floor. Laughter chased the footsteps, voices rising in volume the closer they came to their hiding place until she could see legs passing by her, too close for comfort. She resisted the urge to pull back, any noise enough to reveal their positions at this distance.

  “Do we have to? It’s too cold for this,” grumbled one of them, scrubbing his hands together as his breath expelled in a cloud, catching the sunlight sliced up by the bony hands of the trees that glistened in a rainbow of colour. His cheeks, still full with puppy fat, glowed a rosy pink.

  His companions all erupted into laughter. One slapped him on the back. “Too yellow-bellied to take a bath, eh? They’re to
o soft these days, aren’t they, Kel?”

  Another of them voiced his agreement, shaking his head as he stripped off his coat. “It’ll put some hairs on your chest, lad.” Stripping off his trousers, he draped his uniform over a moss covered rock and then jumped into the water, the splash followed by a squawk and the young boy peering over the bank. “Son of a bastard! It’s freezing.”

  The others standing around him nudged him and he yelped, arms wheeling to try and stop himself from tumbling in after. They all laughed, yanking him back and pulling off his jacket. “Come on, boy. Time for a swim.” And then they threw him in, shirt and all.

  Kilai met Nogan’s gaze and they nodded in unison. Time to take advantage of the distraction. Keeping low to the ground, she darted along the bank until she reached the huge boulder wedged into the mud and dirt of the bank. Peeking up over the top, she could just make out the shapes below, splashing and jeering in the creek. Hoping the others would keep watch for her, she scooped up the uniforms laid out on the rock into her arms and swivelled around so she could run back to safety.

  Only trying to run with her arms full of heavy jackets and trousers was a lot harder that it looked and she struggled to keep her balance while crouching low. Her foot slipped on the slick leaves and she tumbled with a groan as she hit the ground, the uniforms flying out of her hands. The force of her fall kicked up a storm of golden leaves and she heard the splashing stop.

  “Did you hear something?”

  “Is someone there?”

  Scrambling to her feet while keeping low, Kilai ignored the pain flaring in her injured ankle and snatched up the jackets. Makku and Ivor appeared before her, Makku gathering up the clothes while Ivor hauled her into his arms and ran back to the safety of the trees. But he kept walking with her pressed to his chest, away from the voices of the men who had just discovered that their clothes had been stolen. She could hear their high-pitched accusations even as they kept going, back towards the path they had come from.

  “You can put me down now,” she said, thumping Ivor’s chest.

  “You’ve hurt yourself. You’ll only slow us down.”

  Kilai kicked him.

  “Hang you, woman. I’m only trying to help.” He dropped her in a heap on the ground, crunching away through the leaves towards the worn path.

  She scowled after him until Makku held out his free hand and yanked her onto her feet, coats draped over his arm and one hanging over his head. “Is that supposed to be your disguise?”

  Makku shrugged. “If one uniform makes me blend in, the four uniforms will make me invisible, no?”

  Kilai couldn’t help it. She laughed, shaking her head. “Sure. Why don’t you try that and see where it gets you, hm?”

  Makku pouted, pushing the coat up over his eyebrows so he could see.

  Nogan caught up to them, the gun strapped to his back jostling as he jogged. “The ship will be coming in soon,” he said, eyes flicking to the sun high in the sky. “You will want to be on that before it departs for Kar Anwan.”

  “I think it’s going to take more than just a uniform to make us look like soldiers,” said Kilai, looking around the merry band warily. “Only two of us actually speak the language.”

  Nogan nodded, scar catching the light. “Which is why you two will be the only ones to speak. You,” he said to Makku, “can pass off as a mute.”

  Makku made an affronted noise and Kilai rolled her eyes.

  “What about Jorkell?” said Makku.

  “She is too noticeable. It is better she stays behind and helps us defend ourselves. She was raised in this town. She wishes to stay with her family at this time.”

  “Defend yourselves?” repeated Kilai, glancing at the gun.

  Nogan’s expression darkened. “We must do what we must to survive.”

  “And this…” She held the vial to the light, watching it shift through shades of blue and green in the sunshine like she was holding a tiny sliver of the ocean in her hands. “This is worth braving the storm season? Worth crossing an ocean?”

  Nogan nodded, eyes fixed upon the vial in her hand.

  “What does it do?” said Makku, leaning down to peer at it.

  But Nogan pressed his thin lips together and ushered them on. “Come, we must get ahead of the coming ship and prepare your disguises.”

  Ivor caught her eye and she lingered for a beat before shrugging. It would not do to incite anxiety when tensions were already high.

  The closer they came to the place where Nogan directed them, the quieter they grew, as if their voices had been stolen by the brisk sea wind blowing in from the coast, bringing with it the scent of salt and brine. Gulls cawed overhead, circling in a clear sky above. That, at least, was a promising sign. If the sky was clear then the ship would sail.

  To cross the ocean to the Dusklands, though… It was a notion she had been aware of as a possibility when travelling with Captain Kallan, that they might go as far as the land far to the west, further than she had ever been in her life. When it had simply been about delivering goods for a merchant vessel the idea had excited her. The sights, the sounds, smells of a completely different land – one she had only heard tales of from the men and women who would visit her father’s office when she was just a girl – she could only imagine what they might be like. But now, with most of the crew dead, and the rest looking to Kilai for guidance when she did not know the answers herself, everything had changed. When failure put all of their lives at risk for something she did not fully understand, could she really lead them to their imminent destruction?

  But to fight back against the Sonlin Empire was a tempting notion. To wreak revenge upon them for all the pain and misery they had caused by their invasion. The downfall of her family and name. The blood running through the heart of her home town. The torture and abuse of those who did not fit their ideals. Kilai could hardly call herself a non-partisan in this battle, or she would also be calling herself a liar. Her hand wrapped around the turtle pin now roped around her neck, warm over her heart. For Kallan and the crew. For her father. Were these the kinds of reasons that incited men like Nogan to such hatred and anger? To want to destroy people he had never even met? The gun slapping against his back as he walked drew her eye, a symbol of just how far he was willing to go in the name of his cause.

  “You’ve gone awfully quiet,” murmured Ivor. “What are you plotting?”

  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, aware of Nogan pausing as if to listen. Falling further back in their line, she shook her head. “I am not plotting. Merely thinking.”

  Ivor grimaced. “Why would you want to go and do a thing like that? Do you want a sore head along with that ankle and shoulder?”

  Kilai turned to him.

  “What, you think I can’t see how stiffly you’re walking? I was trained to notice these things, you know.”

  “And here I thought you were simply here to complain.”

  “Aye, well, there is that. I’ll give you that one.”

  A few beats of quiet stretched out before them, the only sound their footsteps and laboured breaths as they rushed to keep up with Nogan’s frantic pace through the forest, the ocean’s distant rumble growing louder. Despite the frigid air, Kilai felt hot from the exertion, sweating beneath her clothes. She attributed it more to the anxiety coiling in her gut than to the exercise, having grown leaner and more heavily muscled on her adventures since leaving Nirket.

  “Are you seriously going to impersonate a soldier on that ship when you are one?”

  Ivor gave her a look. “Of course not. I’m going to march right up there and tell them I got shipwrecked and that I have nothing to do with your weird rebel gang thing. Because what I really, really want is to go back to that wretched hole I came from and explain why, for reasons that are completely beyond me, I am not resting with the fishes below in peace, released from this frankly ridiculous existence. But I’m sure that’s better than trudging around here with you sorry lot while everyon
e glares at me for having the audacity to be born across the damned sea. So hang the lot of you, I’m saving myself.”

  “Are you quite done?”

  “Yeah, that’s about it.” He rubbed at his beard. “I mean, there’s more. But I don’t suppose you want to hear it.”

  “I do not think we have time.” The ocean was breathing down their necks, so close she could see the grey waves through the gaps between the trees. She paused, resting against a bent trunk to peer through. Sure enough a ship sat some ways out to sea, the striped Sonlin flag rippling in the wind. “Listen, I want you to make a scene when you approach the ship. Keep them distracted. Be loud and annoying. It shouldn’t be hard for you.”

  “Oi.”

  “That way we might have a shot. It will not be long until the sun sets and then we can sneak onto the ship.”

  “I’m starting to think that’s all I’m good for, being your distraction.”

  She eyed him, noting Nogan pause and hunker down between the trees. “Are you good at anything else, though?”

  “I survived, didn’t I?” he grumbled.

  “Oh, don’t sound so miserable about it,” she said, yanking him down so that they were all crouching in the shelter of the trees, surrounded by thorny bushes that snagged on her clothes. She winced as one pierced the skin of her arm, wiping at the blood.

  A jacket hit her in the face and she whirled on a sniggering Makku. Nogan glared at them all like he couldn’t believe who he had entrusted his task to, gritting his teeth and sidling away. Kilai sighed and pulled it on, the coat heavier than she had expected, made of a thick, good quality material. The indigo shade looked strange against her dark skin, her heart thumping at how wrong it felt. But it shielded her from the crisp wind chilling her bones and as much as she reviled at the thought, she nestled deeper into its warmth, fingers dancing over the shiny buttons winking at her.