The Rising Tide

by Sarah Stirling

  It is true that it makes you more than human. However this position also bears much responsibility. In the past if one hoarded the power and upset the balance of the world, then that organisation of humans you know as the Order of the Riftkeepers would interfere. This was their initial purpose, when the very first bleed of the realms occurred and it became clear to warring humans that there was power in the magic of the ‘otherworld’.

  “But what of the fifth symbol?” said Ziko. “If there are four guardians why is there a fifth?”

  Viktor turned to gaze at the centre symbol upon the stone tablet. It took him a moment to realise that this green spirit was talking. It was talking, to him, in coherent sentences in his native tongue, even if they were not exactly spoken so much as pushed into his mind. He blinked, staring at it with an incredulous look.

  “You can talk.”

  Yes.

  He looked at Ziko. “It can talk.”

  “Niks is capable of human language.”

  “But you’re a – that doesn’t even – can others do that?”

  The thing shared a look with Ziko, the two of them communicating silently between themselves. I am not aware. It is not common, I believe.

  “How come you got the spirit that can actually talk and I’m stuck with a bird that just makes me angry?”

  That bird makes you one of the most powerful men in the world. You should take heed of that.

  “What do you mean?”

  “What you choose to do with that power could have devastating consequences for the rest of the world. You have the power to turn the tides of a war, depending all on your ends. It would be wise to consider where you wish to go from here.”

  Viktor raised his palms. “Listen. I never asked for any of this. I just wanted a normal life. Not the memories of dead princes in my head and this thing, always trying to take me over. It doesn’t have pleasant conversations with me.” He stalked away from them and the lights on the cave wall snuffed out, startling him for a moment.

  “You do not understand me. If you are going to be reckless… if you are going to be dangerous then I will –”

  “You’ll what?” Viktor reeled on the man, eyes ablaze. His anger was his own, only augmented by the delight of the phoenix. It wanted him to be angry and he had no reason to deny it this time. “Tell me, soldier, what do you think you will be able to do to me?” The fire burned bright enough to pitch the cavern in bouncing waves of green, shadows lengthening with the rhythm of the flame.

  Ziko hefted a sigh, looking more resigned than anything else. A wind picked up through the tunnel, tugging at Viktor’s hair and clothes. Niks disappeared from her rock and with her disappearance the pressure began to build until it felt like his head had been placed in a vice. A deep rumbling shook the rock overhead, loose stones and dust tumbling atop his head. Ruffling them loose from his hair, Viktor adjusted his stance and felt the flare of power in his veins.

  “We do not have to fight.”

  Viktor cocked his head. “Then why are you preparing for battle?”

  “Because you could undermine everything I am trying to do here.”

  “And that is to bring the two worlds into one? Is that not the height of madness?”

  “Says the man who does not know who he is from one day to the next. Tell me, did it feel good to learn you were a prince? To learn that after so long being looked down upon you were justified in your righteousness and self-pity?”

  Viktor launched a ball of fire with a guttural roar, exploding out in a burst so bright he had to look away. Smoke billowed up, filling the cavern, but it did not clog his lungs like natural smoke. The unfurling tendrils were faintly green and heavy with the charcoal scent of his signature. He breathed it in, nostrils flaring, and tried to remember what he had come here to do. It wasn’t this – wasn’t fighting this soldier on a mountainside for his wounded pride – but there were things he refused to hear. What did this soldier know of empty bellies and the pain of a bruised body huddled in a damp shack, waiting for an endless night to finally tick into morning?

  “Do you not dream of a world where your birth bears no hold over your status?” Ziko emerged from the flames like a wraith, the lines on his neck pulsing softly in gold. His fist was clenched and he raised it to the sky, to where the clouds gathered across the hole in the cavern above. The smell was building in the atmosphere, the acrid tang of lightning.

  The phoenix was threatening to dominate him, clawing its way to the forefront of his mind. Viktor waded through the onslaught of memories it barraged at him, clenching his teeth against it. He nearly missed the attack, too busy fighting the beast within to notice the enemy outside. Diving out the way, he shrieked as the tail end of the lightning bolt struck his hand and his body juddered with white hot pain coursing through his entire nervous system. Crashing to the ground, he rolled across the stone, limbs still jerking at the effects of the lightning. Flame crackled all around him; his body instinctively healing itself. But it couldn’t rid him of the stench of charred flesh.

  Ziko hovered above him, a palm of white hot energy crackling within. “I do not wish to hurt you, truly.”

  Viktor groaned, everywhere throbbing. “No?” He pushed himself to his hands, fighting off the shrieking between his ears. Whether it was the phoenix’s cries or the damage to his eardrums, he didn’t care. Summoning as much fire as he could to his fingertips, he struck out so quickly that Ziko was not prepared for him, a streak of burning fire shooting from his hand.

  Ziko staggered back, hand coming up to defend himself against it. All around him shimmered a shield of gold that sparked like the lightning he had called from the sky. Viktor could feel the point where it pushed against the phoenix fire, unmovable as stone. With a yell he forced more and more into the flame until he had to shield his eyes from the pure white core where their power met. So much spiritual energy sparked off the point of convergence that he could feel the riftspawn in the vicinity flee in fear. Still, Viktor pushed in more energy, feeling his body begin to sag. He could not keep this up forever.

  You are weak. The voice was Ziko’s. A ghastly wail echoed through the cavern, a strong gust shoving into him and knocking his weakened form backwards. You are weak because you have no real connection to your partner.

  Viktor cried out in frustration, digging into the core of his shared power with the phoenix. The phoenix aided him, furious with the slight. Viktor would show him. Viktor would rip his head from his body and send his riftspawn back to the otherworld. He would destroy him completely and laugh as he watched the light leave its eyes. The thought drew him up short.

  Ziko seemed to sense his hesitation, pausing in his approach. You’re still fighting it. That is not the way.

  “You try being bonded to a mad bloodthirsty god!”

  This time Viktor rolled out of the way of the lightning, trailing fire. He jumped to his haunches, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth, and glared. There was so much pent up spiritual energy building inside the cavern he thought it might explode with it. “You talk about it like it’s so easy.”

  It’s not easy. That is why it is worthwhile.

  The aether trembled with all the power that Ziko gathered around himself, the ground quaking with every step he took. He was but a frail, pale husk of a man and yet when he walked the world seemed to whimper in fear. Viktor could feel the tremulous heartbeat of the rift nearby, strained from the amount of energy Ziko channelled. From the amount that Viktor bundled into himself, braced for action. He didn’t think his body would hold up much longer but he’d damn himself before he would just give up.

  There was, of course, another way. Not the phoenix’s way. Not Vallnor’s way. But Viktor’s. Sucking in a ragged breath, Viktor pushed himself onto wobbly legs, stole one last look at the madness in those golden eyes, and then he broke into a run. The surprise would buy him time; Ziko wasn’t expecting the arrogant prince to just run away. The phoenix screeched and pecked at his mind, filling it with brigh
t hot ire, but Viktor kept running. He had survived this long because he knew when to cut his losses.

  Vallnor’s vice had always been pride, but Viktor’s had always been cowardice.

  Will you continue to run away? The voice sounded as loud in his head as if Ziko was standing before him. Will you never face yourself?

  Viktor found that laughter bubbled up from his chest before he could stop it. This is me, he thought. And if running saved his life, then he’d bear the title of coward without a second thought. Because in the end his life hadn’t really changed at all. He was still just a lost, lonely boy, surrounded by vultures waiting to pick him apart for their own design. In the end there was Viktor, the dark shadow in his mind, and the serrated desire to keep himself alive.

  It was almost funny, how things came full circle. But maybe this time Viktor had a better idea of what he actually wanted. Maybe this time there were people he cared about other than himself. Maybe there was a world he could envisage, where he didn’t have to hurt. And maybe this time he had the power to do something about it.

  The cool night air was a welcome balm against his sweaty skin. Viktor drank it in like a man dying, raising his face to the blinking eye of the moon. The pupil swivelled to stare at him but he merely gazed back. “I am Viktor,” he said to it. “I don’t know what that means yet but I think I’m getting there.”

  *

  “Out of curiosity, how did he know?”

  Tokkar stared at her. “Has it been that long? Have you forgotten his strength?”

  Rook clenched her jaw, staring out at the frozen landscape sprawling out into a swollen horizon. The faint stench of the tundra bear beneath her grounded her to reality when her senses were going haywire. They were overwhelmed with the pollution of so much spiritual energy. Soured spiritual energy. She gripped two clumps of coarse hair between her fists and finally said, “I have not forgotten.”

  “Spending so much time with those northerners has turned you soft.”

  “Oh, would you like to test that?”

  Tokkar’s blue eyes narrowed as he took in her grin. Against pale skin they stood out, sharp like icy waters. When he pulled his gaze away she released a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. Above the sky made a crackling noise like it was about to crumple up and take them with it. Rook’s grip tightened. It would do no good to have thoughts like that here. As the world continued to change, thinking of things like that could become very, very dangerous.

  “Why did you come back?”

  “Why do you think I came back, Tokkar?”

  “Tokkar-ro.”

  Rook stared him. “You…”

  “What, you do not believe me capable? Was I not good enough to fill your place? Well, times have changed. I can prove that to you.”

  She shook her head. From the cut of his muscles and the dark, thundering beat of his signature, of his strength she had no doubt. “He is just using you.”

  “You speak as if you know him so well.”

  “He is my father.”

  “You have been gone for years, Rook.”

  “What, no ‘Rook-ka’?”

  “A name is earned.”

  She huffed a laugh, rolling some of the tension out of her shoulders. The closer they came to her old home the more she could feel her body react. It remembered the craggy peaks misted by fog, the steep, seemingly impenetrable cliffs, the icy bite of the wind and the thick layer of snow blanketing all. The way it muffled all sound was unsettling, her puffs of breath all the louder for the silence. And above it all, the foreboding lights swirled in the sky, promising imminent doom for them all.

  “You still did not answer my question.”

  “And you did not answer mine.”

  Her easy smile had always disturbed him and she could see that now was no different, his eyes roaming over her face with a pinched expression. “I think you are scared, so you are running home because it is familiar to you.”

  “Oh?” His answer had a little more thought than she had expected. “You do not think I regret my terrible mistakes? You do not fear I come to claim what is mine?”

  “It is not yours! Birthright means nothing if you have not earned the right to stand before the clan.”

  A trickle of snow ran down the slope. It reflected the deep greens and purples of the sky above. Rook hummed a song beneath her breath that she had picked up from the sailors on her journey south. “Some day you might understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  “That there is more than one tiny tribe on a lonely mountain. There’s a whole world out there, Tokkar. So much worth seeing. So much worth saving.”

  “And you think that person has to be you, do you? You always had such high opinion of yourself.”

  The tundra bear struggled with its footing, snow and stone slipping down the slope. Rook made the mistake of glancing behind her, stomach flipping at the staggering drop racing away to the valley floor beneath. They had travelled at a relentless pace but the poor creature must be feeling it now. She dipped into the pool of her power and leant it a little strength, feeling it rise beneath her with a renewed vigour. Tokkar frowned at her.

  “You really do think yourself some noble hero, don’t you? Some gift to all of us.”

  “I am no hero, Tokkar. But I am trying and in the end I think that’s all that really matters.”

  Tokkar gritted his teeth, running a hand over the shaved sides of his fair hair. “Whatever your business here, you ought to make it quick. I will not tolerate an imposter in my clan.”

  Rook snorted, ignoring his affronted look. “And to think I’m the one with a high opinion of herself.”

  He huffed, head jerking away from her. They rode in silence through the night, the bear’s heavy footsteps the only sound to disturb the hush that had fallen over them. In the hole left by the lack of conversation, Rook’s head filled with thoughts of the time before she had chosen to leave. She remembered the breathtaking snow-capped peaks and the stillness of the forest in the low season. Remembered how much warmer the fire felt for the cold as they sat around it, swapping stories of heroic battles and heroes who felled evil beasts. If she closed her eyes she could almost pretend she had never left at all. That her father still had faith in her, and that her mother would still pleat her hair after she had dunked it in the river.

  Was it weakness to long for the comfort of such memories when she had decided to walk away from this life? Rook wasn’t about to go back – not for any longer than it would take to gain some closure – but that didn’t mean there was no fear drying her mouth. How easy it would be to fall back into old patterns. To just let go and lose herself to the rush of the power in her veins.

  In her anxiety instinct pushed her towards The Rook, drawing forth the bond between them. Her companion was every bit as agitated as she. Or, perhaps, it was feeling the effects of her emotions and looping them back on her, only amplified. She shivered beneath her furs, breaths expelling in clouds of frigid steam, and drew enough energy into her body to warm her bones. Although she and The Rook had formed a tentative truce, she was not sure how well that pact would hold up here, in the place where they had first met.

  In the place where everything had changed.

  Can I trust you not to let me go too far? It might have been the height of stupidity to talk to a riftspawn, but she rather thought it understood her in some way. Can I trust you to adhere to our agreement?

  Fight, devour and take.

  Apparently that was all it knew. Releasing a sigh, she threw her head back to stare at the twisting, melting, morphing lights of the sky. It looked the way she felt inside, her stomach knotting with enough tension to make her feel ill. The air was saturated with spiritual energy, ready to burst open. A tiny riftspawn fled from a group of larger, darker coloured spirits, its fright like tiny sparks against her senses, almost as if she was hearing its thumping heartbeat in her head. She gazed at it, wondering if she should help it. If it would make a difference. Her
hand lifted to direct her thoughts when the creature suddenly spun to face its pursuers head on. Its jaw swung open five times the width of its little body and before the other riftspawn could slow their descent it swallowed them up, their dark shapes visible inside the translucent red belly of its form.

  Bit by bit it began to transform, growing larger. Two long antennae grew from its head like on one of the riftspawn it had consumed, its fins elongating into odd webbed flipper type appendages like another, until it was barely recognisable as the creature it had been. Rook gulped and looked away, her uneasiness only growing. The world had always been a transient place, everything within gradually decaying until death. But the sudden and complete transformation of the little red riftspawn disturbed her in ways she could not begin to name.

  If my old self saw me now, I wonder if she would recognise me, she thought.

  “You’re uncharacteristically quiet.”

  Rook grinned at him. “How would you know? I could have changed in the time since I’ve been gone.”

  Tokkar raised a thick brow. “Not that much.”

  “Really? Do you think I am the same as when I left?”

  His shoulders were squared with tension, mouth pressed into a firm line. She hadn’t really thought her return would have affected him that much; they had never exactly been close. Perhaps it was simply fear that she really was coming back to stay. Perhaps he feared she could still beat him, should it come down to battle. Rook shook her head of the thought. She was not here to fight, even if she feared going back might make it all come rushing back. There was something about clan life, she thought to herself as the first huts appeared in view, that lent itself to the violence and strife.