The Rising Tide

by Sarah Stirling

  Vallnor Siklo had rebirthed as Viktor, so it followed a logical pattern that Ivor could be him, but that did not make it the same. Vallnor had been a well known name of the history books, but Var Kunir, he was the curse upon every wronged person’s lips. He was the great adversary of legend, written into most strands of the Illuminated teachings. He was the figure that inspired men to be good, lest they risk being dragged to the depths of his Locker beneath the sea when their time came. To see him in living flesh, and bearing the face of a man she knew, was something her mind desperately fled from. Unfortunately she could not run from her thoughts the way she might her enemies.

  “You want to make me your great adversary, you go ahead. Damn it all, does everything up until now mean nothing to you? Whatever you’re thinking right now, I’m not that. I didn’t mean to – to do that.” Ivor stared at his hands, turning them this way and that as if they were entirely new appendages to him. The trembling in them grew more severe the longer he held them at face height, like a landslide warning of the impending avalanche. His gaze flickered back to hers, green and lucid. “I’ve played the punching bag enough times to know how this goes. I just didn’t think you’d be the one to condemn me.”

  His words were a stab to the gut, stilling the wind from her sails. Her mouth opened to spew poison brewed in anger before she slammed it shut again, clenching tight on the handle of the lantern to ground herself with the pain. “I’m not condemning you, you utter buffoon, I’m trying to figure out how we get out of this. Do you know what’s going to happen to us all, even if they don’t throw you overboard before we reach land? They’re going to string us up by the necks or we’ll go to the firing squad or whichever method they prefer to use. I need to understand what’s going on here so I can help us all.”

  “They didn’t lock us up,” said Makku.

  “No, she’s right,” said Ivor before Kilai could mention her previous interactions with the Sonlin military. “But I’m not going to let that happen.”

  She tilted her head. “I am so desperately eager to learn how you will accomplish that.”

  “I’m thinking about it.”

  “We’re running out of time, Ivor, and I have no idea when you might lose control again.”

  He flinched. “I haven’t the faintest idea how to control it. I don’t even know how it happened in the first place.”

  “I’ve seen what this can do to people.” She had watched Rook struggle and Viktor explode. Kilai didn’t know how to go about helping him and it itched like a festering wound. She wanted to scratch but she knew it would only exacerbate the problem. “It’s no easy journey.”

  “And I can’t…” he licked his dry lips, gaze swinging away, “get rid of it?”

  “From my understanding? No.”

  His shoulders slumped, nodding with defeat. “I killed a lot of people, didn’t I?”

  “Yes.”

  Ivor’s eyes squeezed shut. “I’m sorry. It was never my intention.”

  Kilai’s head fell against the nearest bar, cool metal biting into her skin. “There is no use in dwelling on what has passed. We must focus on what is coming and how we can weather that storm.”

  “Maybe we should throw him overboard,” said Makku. At both of their gazes, he raised his hands. “You survived once before. I think that thing will keep you alive.”

  “A hunch is a lot to go on.”

  “It would stop a repeat of that night.”

  Kilai raked her gaze over Makku, noting the gauntness to his cheeks and the faint sheen of his sweat shining on his skin. “No one is getting thrown overboard.”

  Makku looked away, shoulders tensing. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “For what it’s worth, I wouldn’t blame you.”

  “It’s going to be a fight regardless.” Kilai sighed. “Perhaps it might be better if we get you onto land, since that creature appears to be confined to the water.”

  “We hope so, anyway,” said Ivor.

  “Var Kunir was supposed to dwell on his ship aboard the ocean, sending sailors to their deaths in the Locker below. But there was more to it than that.” Makku met her gaze, biting his lip.

  “Didn’t take you for a religious man.”

  Kilai ignored Ivor. “At the end of the world, he would rise from the ocean with his creatures from the Locker and take to the land to punish those who had not lived virtuous lives. The Locker was supposed to be a place of permanent darkness. It would not be difficult to draw the connection to death.”

  “Didn’t take you for a religious woman, either.”

  “Will you lock up your mouth for a moment? I’m trying to think.”

  Ivor raised his palms, looking appropriately chastised. His knee bounced, foot creating a soft thud against the wood below his boots. Noticing the direction of her gaze, he pushed it down with his hand until the tremor was barely there.

  “It’s preposterous, is it not? To think he might be… him.”

  “I hardly know what to find preposterous anymore. Why not? Who is to say he is not him?” She felt a flicker of guilt, for letting her attendance to church lapse when she had taken over from her father as governess in Nirket. Then again, she hardly thought that little fact was likely to be the difference between her potential salvation or damnation.

  “So what does this mean? The end of the world?”

  “What else would you call the rifts rupturing? The creatures that come from the realm beyond? The way this world is changing in inexplicable ways?”

  Makku clicked his tongue. “Riftspawn have always been in existence. They’re every bit as natural as you and me.”

  “Surely you do not believe that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Look,” said Ivor, “even if I am this great adversary guy or not, does it really change anything?”

  “Yes,” they both said in unison.

  “Then kill me.”

  Kilai stared at him, gaze flickering over the stillness of his expression. The gravity in his eyes. “No.”

  “Would that not solve this?” said Makku, drawing her surprise once more. Losing his crew had changed him more than she had initially assumed, it seemed. “I don’t say it to be cruel, or that we necessarily should, but shouldn’t we at least acknowledge it as a last resort?”

  “Chances are it wouldn’t matter. The host can die but the spirit lives on.”

  “Meaning it can find another host.” Ivor’s voice was scratchy.

  “As far as my understanding goes, yes.”

  Silence settled in, the three of them lost in their respective contemplations. Kilai scrambled for a solution that was not there, fighting a losing battle against the defeat settling into her mind. She found her thoughts straying to her former companions, wondering how they were doing. Whether Viktor had found his way back to himself, whether Rook had found peace within herself returning home, and whether Janus had found that missing sense of purpose. Whether they were as stuck as she was right now, unsure on the best move to make.

  “Shaikuro?” said Jayna. “Shaikuro-wei, I mean!”

  Kilai had not heard the girl approach, trying not to show her surprise. “Yes?”

  “There is commotion on the deck regarding the prisoner.”

  She shared a look with Ivor, whose lips were pressed into a grim line. Pressing a finger to her mouth, she gave him a nod and could only hope he would understand that she would do all she could to protect him. Then she marched after Jayna with Makku on her heels, hearing the rising voices before she had managed to climb onto the deck.

  “We can’t bring this demon to our shores! He will destroy us all if we allow him to live!” argued one woman, surrounded by the scant remains of the crew and travelling soldiers. She wore the indigo coat of a soldier of the Sonlin military, similar but not the same as the man standing opposed to her in the centre of the ring.

  “You risk bringing the wrath of this creature upon us once more.” He shook his head, gesturing to his audience. “Would
it not be wiser to take him from his domain, where the creature cannot harm us?” The coats of the Sonlin navy force were similar in shade to the land forces but with subtle differences to the cut and design. The stripes decorating his were blue but Kilai could not tell what his rank was. It seemed that when tensions were high any fracture could become a solid breakage, for this new fault line was evident by their uniforms.

  “Who is to say he will not summon this creature at any moment and kill the rest of us?” said the woman, her face red with her vehemence. Her cropped black hair curled around her ears, exposing a scar that split one lobe and ran down her neck. “It is the height of madness to keep him on this ship!”

  “And yet he has not summoned it despite imprisonment. Surely there would be no more pressing moment than now to free himself,” the man replied, stepping forward. His dark hair was shorn nearly to the scalp, and like the woman his skin was golden brown. “What say you? There is no captain here to decide, nor your commander.”

  “Why don’t we just throw him overboard?” piped up one of the crowd, to some nods.

  “Then we just let him go free!” she hissed, throwing her hands up in the air. “Would you not see him answer for his crimes? Are you so quick to forget your brethren?”

  Kilai watched the argument unfold with the weight of Makku’s eyes upon her on one side and Jayna’s fidgeting on the other. “It would seem men are the same everywhere, wouldn’t you say?” she murmured in his ear.

  “They have understandable concerns.”

  She turned to him. “Would you have me leave him to die?”

  His eyes roamed her face. Then in one exhale the tension fled his body, shoulders slumping. “No. I’m just afraid of what this means. How are we supposed to just go on with the knowledge that our doom is coming?”

  Something about his pitiful expression stirred her. “There is no doom without defeat.” Then she marched towards the argument and cleared her throat before nudging her way into their midst. They seemed so surprised she would muscle her way in that they parted for her easily, until she stood between the two at the centre of the ring.

  “If you throw him to the sea you will only anger the beast. Do you wish to bring it back to us?” she said.

  The man threw a hand in her direction in triumph. “See, she speaks sense. Why would we invite the wrath of this demon beneath the sea?”

  “She is an imposter, Koda. For all we know she is like him. Perhaps we should try throwing her to the waves and see what happens.”

  Kilai kept her chin up even as the circle closed in, many eyeing her suspiciously. “Who I am is not important here.” Her Sonlin was clear, if accented. “What does matter is that I know more about all of this than you. I have seen these creatures in many forms and have witnessed the havoc they have wreaked. Do not endanger us all now for your pride.”

  “How do you know about these things?” said Koda. “How did you stop him?”

  She gritted her teeth, hesitant to answer for fear it would only upset them further. “I stabbed him until he collapsed. I believe it broke the connection between him and the creature controlling him.”

  “Does that mean it can take over any of us?”

  “Let her speak, Hyrlith.”

  Kilai felt like banging both of their heads together, a headache building between her temples. “How long do you believe it will take us to reach the continent from here?”

  A series of exchanged looks unfolded through the circle. Koda tilted his head to the sky as if considering. “It could be anything from ten days to another fortnight or more. The Storm Chaser is an old vessel due for retirement soon. She is reliant on her sails and a sturdy breeze.”

  It would have to do. “Wait it out. Once you reach land this ceases to be a problem and you have your culprit captured within the ship.”

  “Why should we listen to you? You lied to us when the two of you boarded this ship together,” said Hyrlith.

  Kilai stared her down as the wind ruffled her red hair, not bothering to tuck the fiery locks behind her ear. She let the moment stretch out past the point of comfortable, Hyrlith fidgeting on her feet beneath her gaze until she looked like she might speak. At last, she said in a calm, clear voice, “I stabbed him. My companion he might have been but I had no idea what monster dwelled beneath. To save myself – no, to save this entire ship – I stabbed my friend because I knew it was the only choice I could make. You should listen to me because I have survived much worse than this. I intend to survive more, too.”

  They seemed to listen. Their arguments still continued even as she turned and pushed her way back out of the circle but they had lost their heat. It was more like neither wanted to concede defeat to the other and so would keep circling around one another for eternity. But it did not matter.

  All that mattered was that they survived this journey. There was still a much larger obstacle in sight; she could not waste her energy with petty squabbles when they had an entire continent to contend with. Once they reached land, there would be a whole new battle for them to fight, but for now, at least, there was a tentative truce out in the vast untamed ocean. Kilai would just have to use this time to work out a way to keep them all alive once they reached Sonlin shores.

  If there was a way to be found at all.

  *

  “I cannot say for certain that it will work but there’s no reason why it should not.” The gun, shining in Neyvik’s palm, faded back into a normal weapon. Before she handed it to him, she levelled him with a fierce look. “I am trusting you not to betray us with this.”

  Janus wrapped his fingers around the handle, still warm beneath his palm. “Thank you.”

  “It is not as powerful as a rift warden’s weapon. They are fortified by the bond between warden and riftspawn. The signature that lingers is far stronger, but I had this gun possessed by a Taemlah and a Dakkai, which should make this particularly potent. Do not worry, they no longer reside within.”

  He had wondered about the unpleasant zap against his skin when he had first touched it. The Rook’s lingering presence seemed to be reacting to the residual signature on the gun. “Probably for the best, hm?” With it he gestured to the ceiling.

  Neyvik pursed her lips. “Yes, that idea was such an inspired one. I do relish a future of sleeping with an eye open in case my own home tries to kill me.”

  He attempted a grin but from her grimace it was not particularly convincing. “Should settle down. Won’t try to hurt you forever.”

  “Please leave, before I shoot you myself.”

  Janus saluted her with the revolver before holstering the weapon, steadied by the weight of it against his hip. He hadn’t realised how much he had relied on having it there for peace of mind, until it was no longer there. Hopefully now he would no longer require special bullets that had to be shipped from this very monastery. Hopefully now he could move on with some clarity and sense of purpose.

  Some clarity and a sense of purpose had yet to find him, it seemed.

  He wasn’t sure what it was that drew him to the rift but some instinct in him attracted him to the shimmering swirl of lights in the middle of the room, the Danma Vyll within the walls apparently bringing him to it instead of the door that would take him out. Inside his skull a pressure eased, a relief from the constant pounding inside his head. The rift would flare every time a riftspawn attempted to cross the chasm, lights brightening before a new creature appeared, floating curiously into a new world. He couldn’t feel the energy, exactly, but there was a tickle somewhere in the back of his mind that reminded him there was an entire hidden world he was not privy to.

  It was comforting, in its own way, to know that Rook was still out there somewhere, for The Rook’s ghostly shape invaded his dreams. Dreams Janus thought had long dried up inside him. Usually he knocked out and came to without ever remembering he had even slept; he did not know what to make of the strange nonsensical world in his sleep.

  Touching the swollen bump on the back of his
head from his fall in the church, he hissed a curse at the pain and drew out his gun, firing at the first feathery fringed beast that undulated towards him with sharp, jerky movements. Bullseye. In a spark of reddish light, the creature faded out before his eyes. The gun worked. With his suspicions confirmed, he took a step back to leave when the lights flared again, this time so bright he had to shield his eyes. Throwing an arm up, he attempted to look over it with his gun poised and ready to face whatever attempted to pass through. The light pulsed, the whole room blinking rapidly with the instability of the rift. He wondered if he ought to fetch help. Whatever it was, it had to be strong.

  Glancing at the walls, he muttered, “Hope you’re paying attention.”

  The strangest part of the ordeal was that there was barely a sound, but for the faint thrum so low his ears barely picked it up. It was more of a direct vibration he could feel in his chest, warning him to be alert. The light flashed again and he cut off a yelp, pressing his face into his arm to protect his eyes from the strobe effect.

  The next thing he knew he was hitting the ground, head thumping right on the tender wound. Blinking against the black spots on his vision, Janus gasped for air as a hand struck his face, words falling past his ears that he did not recognise. Instinct had him rolling his attacker, trying to pin down the scrabbling hands only to find his fingers scraping the ground below, skin tingling. A sudden wind crashed into him, distracting enough that the body beneath shoved him hard to the ground and struck once more. He knew the skin broke when blood trickled from his lip.

  Vision settling, he found himself staring at a masked man. Only something about the image of him wasn’t quite right, like perhaps he wasn’t all there. Janus was so stunned his instincts abandoned him. Something seemed vaguely familiar.

  “Who are you?”

  Another punch to the face, only it missed the mark and glanced off his cheekbones. The man seemed unsettled. He wasn’t sure if it was the way his eyes did not quite focus or the faint golden glow from within. Possession. He had jumped through the rift. Too many questions to draw a conclusion.