Failed Future (Air Awakens: Vortex Chronicles Book 3)

by Elise Kova

  “I know, and I’m sorry.” Vi sat, beginning to sort through the items in her satchel and looking for the blanket Sarphos mentioned. Of course, it was at the very bottom.

  Vi took a deep breath and tried to fill in the gaps in Taavin’s information with broad strokes. He remained silent as he positioned himself at her side to listen. The sun was low in the sky when she finally finished.

  “So that’s it, then?” Taavin nodded at the scythe. “This weapon the king claimed was from the Dark Isle and bestowed on you?”

  “I believe him.” Vi rested on her elbow and reached for the weapon, surprised once more at how light it was. Laying it across her lap, she slowly undid the upper strap and then unwrapped the cloth tucked around the blade.

  Taavin let out a soft gasp. He slowly reached out a hand, then withdrew before he could touch it. There was a reverent expression on his face, as though he gazed on a holy object.

  “I take it you believe his claims now, too?”

  “Vi… This… It shouldn’t exist,” he breathed, eyes drifting up to her. “What do you know of its history?”

  Vi ran her fingers over the shining crystal of the weapon. It was as if the whole thing—blade and shaft—had been crafted from a single, flawless stone. But there were no marks of the crafter, no sign of any tool on its surface. It was flawless in every way. She closed her eyes, feeling the magic pulsing from it, familiar and yet slightly unnerving at the same time.

  The longer she was in contact with it, the more dangerous it felt.

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Vi started thoughtfully. “Trying to piece it all together… I know Raspian’s return aligns with the destruction of the Crystal Caverns—so I know the caverns were where he was sealed away. One of my final lessons from my tutors was how my mother had a role in starting the war that led to that destruction, beginning with a crystal axe she found in Soricium. And I know that, in the lore on the Dark Isle, there were four of these weapons—an axe, a scythe, a crown, and a sword.”

  “Yes, you have the main points…” His hand finally rested on the scythe. Magic swirled up from the crystals, wrapping around his forearm in hazy blue light—as if reaching out to him, before it sank into his skin. His eyes seemed to shine an even brighter green in the fading light.

  “What am I missing?”

  “Yargen’s sacrifice.” Taavin looked to her. “When Yargen defeated Raspian in the last great war, she broke off a piece of Meru, sending it into the sea and sealing away Raspian there for what was to be eternity. She then split herself—her power—to ensure he remained in place. A third was bestowed on the Champion as a staff of frozen fire. Another third encapsulated Raspian in the same frozen fire to prevent his return. And the final third remained here on Meru as living flame, to guide her world.”

  “Frozen fire…” Vi repeated. Before her lips could close, her jaw went slack. Frozen fire. “No, not fire,” she uttered. What would frozen fire look like, if not magic captured in shining stone, faintly glowing with a power greater than any man had ever known? Stone that would turn to coal—obsidian—when the power diminished. “Crystal.”

  “Just so,” Taavin said solemnly.

  “But all the crystals are dark and dormant since the caverns were destroyed… why does this persist?” Vi stared at the weapon in her hands that still glowed with a life of its own over a thousand years since it was first created.

  “As I said, the Crystal Caverns sealing away Raspian were one part of her power. The other part was given to the Champion in the form of a staff to guard the tomb and ensure none sought it.”

  “Then, this is not from the tomb… but from the staff?”

  Taavin gave a noise of affirmation. “That’s my belief. The Champion was to use the power of Yargen bestowed on him to guard the tomb and ensure none came to seek it out. For over two hundred years, the Champion kept his lonely watch. But as with most things in time, details become hazy… the severity of a threat is forgotten.

  “Eventually, people came to the Dark Isle, and the Champion did not send them away.”

  “Why?” Vi couldn’t imagine why the Champion would turn back on his duty. But she also couldn’t imagine spending centuries alone. The notion that such could be her own fate, that it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility, crawled under her skin like invisible bugs.

  “Why does any man turn from duty? Love, loneliness, family… I can only speculate,” Taavin murmured softly. Vi wondered if he was speaking about himself and the duty he’d left by fleeing Risen for her. “But he wasn’t foolish. The people he let on the Dark Isle were mostly human—all born without magic.”

  “Without magic? I thought everyone has magic outside of the Dark Isle?”

  “The vast majority do… but once in a hundred, a child is born without. And this world is not kind to those without magic.”

  “So they left to seek out a new world, kinder to them,” Vi finished, imagining ships of dozens setting out for a barren land—an empty continent without anyone to judge them.

  She’d always been told that people in the Solaris Empire feared sorcerers for their magic because it was rare, strange, and dangerous. Perhaps the real reason they hated sorcerers so fiercely extended back past anyone’s memory. Extended toward the first peoples of the early kingdoms. People who held a deep resentment for magic—any magic—because it forced them from their homelands.

  “And the Champion let them settle, either out of loneliness, or because he believed that these peoples without our magicks could be of no threat to the tomb.”

  “But… Solaris did eventually develop magic.” Vi thought of the elemental powers of her home. “You called the magic of my land fractured…” Then, it dawned on her. “The Champion used the power of Yargen within him to split the staff into an axe, a scythe, a crown, and a sword—the Crystal Weapons of lore.”

  “From the fractured magic of Yargen, new magic seeped into your world.” Taavin gave a solemn nod. “And that new magic, the lure of power, drew them to Raspian’s tomb long after the Champion had relinquished his mortal form by giving up Yargen’s power. It was her magic that was extending his life beyond the hold of time, and when he no longer possessed it, he left our world.”

  “We turned Yargen’s magic against itself. We were the ones to destroy it,” Vi said in horror.

  Everything made sense. Such loathsome, horrible, wretched sense. The fear of magic ingrained in people from the start, bolstered by the Champion’s warnings, and cemented by time. Conventional wisdom maintained that the crystals in the Caverns tainted people, perhaps as a result of a power mortal hands weren’t intended to hold. Or perhaps Raspian’s power was slowly escaping through them, and that was the source of the deadly crystal taint.

  “But this means there’s hope.” Vi clutched the scythe tightly. “This is hope. In the ruins of old Shaldan, I saw a figure of a man and a woman fighting etched on the wall. I didn’t understand it then… but it was Raspian and Yargen. The likeness must have been made by those who remembered their story. Yargen wielded a staff against him. If this comes from that staff, then maybe we can fight him with it. Maybe we have a chance.”

  “I can only hope.” Taavin looked from the scythe to the watch around her neck, then to her face. “I know that Yargen’s power seems to seek you out. And that the other living piece of Yargen is in Risen, with the archives. If there’s any information that will help us crack this—” his fingers landed on the watch “—and figure out a way to fight Raspian… it’s in Risen.”

  “We’ll go there.” Vi closed her hand around his. The man’s skin was warm under her fingertips.

  “As soon as we rescue your father.” Taavin’s fingers worked their way around hers, winding tightly together. A dull, sweet ache filled her chest. Even with the world on the line, he knew she would go to her family first. He knew her focus would be her father until Vi knew he was safe. And he was not doing anything to pry her from that task when he so rightfully could.

&
nbsp; “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “For what?”

  “Beginning to tell me everything.”

  “There’s so much I’ve yet to say,” he murmured, his other hand reaching up to lightly tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m just afraid to say it.”

  “Me too.” Yet, in saying that much, she knew what was unspoken for both of them. She didn’t need anything more for now.

  “Just as I’m afraid I have already cursed you by it.” Taavin brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “I never wanted any of this to happen to you.” Remorse flooded his words. Vi gave a small, bitter laugh.

  “Never? Not even when I was just the woman who supposedly tortured you in your dreams?”

  Taavin began to protest, but stopped when he saw the makings of a grin on her lips. “Hush, that didn’t count.”

  His thumb brushed over her lower lip, his eyes dipping half-closed as he watched the motion with delicious intent. Vi’s focus was shifting as well. The tiniest of touches flooded her with such bittersweet delight.

  “If that doesn’t count, then you couldn’t have cursed me,” Vi said gently. “Because the red lines of my fate were drawn by the goddess long before you met me.”

  He looked at her as if seeking permission. She tried to convey it to him as she held his hand tighter, as she leaned forward—awkwardly across the scythe still in her lap.

  “Perhaps, we’re both equally cursed,” he murmured darkly, close enough to her face now that she could feel his breath on her mouth.

  “Perhaps.”

  They were from two different worlds. When it all was over—assuming the world didn’t end—she would still be the crown princess. He was still the Voice. They couldn’t be anything else to one another.

  What does she matter to you?

  Everything.

  Their lips brushed, feather-light. His mouth quivered slightly, and a groan escaped him. Taavin’s fingers curled around her jaw and he pulled her closer.

  The scythe was forgotten, sliding off her knees as Vi shifted her weight forward. He leaned back and she followed him. She couldn’t breathe if she didn’t know her lungs were in time with his. She couldn’t move if his hands weren’t on her. Taavin laid back on the leafy ground, Vi atop him. He was light and life and everything she’d ever wanted without knowing it.

  She was clumsy and inexperienced. But what she lacked in confidence she made up for in enthusiasm. She allowed every shift, kiss, and caress to fill her, fuel her.

  If they were destined for heartbreak, she would steal as many nights as she could along the way.

  It took two days, but on the afternoon of the second, Toris at last came into view.

  The town was set aside a small inlet. Cliffs stood tall toward the sea, but they gradually sloped down as they wrapped around the sloping hills to the valley where Toris proper sat. A winding dirt path connected the town with a larger stoned road that ran from the Twilight Forest out into the great plains beyond—plains mottled with dark brown patches that looked alarmingly like decay.

  “Grim little place, isn’t it?” Arwin muttered. She was still barely on speaking terms with them.

  “I suppose,” Vi agreed purely for the sake of not starting an argument. She didn’t see anything that grim. It looked like any other town.

  “It’s been a sheer delight to patrol these past few days,” Arwin continued. She’d spent most of her time ahead, rather than with them. The scouting served a purpose they hoped to capitalize on, but Vi also suspected it had given Arwin an excuse to get away from them. “But the pirates haven’t moved since I first flew in; they’re on the ship in the morning, wreak havoc in town, drinks at the brewery, back at night.”

  “You’re sure they haven’t seen or sensed you?” Taavin asked.

  “I’m certain I would know if they had. One of them would’ve been after me in an instant if he’d known.”

  “Who?” Vi asked.

  “Another morphi. He’s been flying the edges of the Twilight Forest relentlessly.”

  “Fallor?”

  Arwin rounded on Vi the moment she said his name. “You know him?”

  “He’s been after me.” Vi watched Arwin closely. There were emotions Vi couldn’t quite put her finger on in Arwin’s reaction. Fallor was obviously an exiled morphi who had betrayed his people, but there was more than that in Arwin’s expression. This felt personal. “Do you know him?”

  “He’s an exile of the Twilight Kingdom.” Arwin backed away from Vi, looking to the cliffs.

  “I know that. But what I mean is, was he anyone… significant in the Twilight Kingdom before he was exiled?” Vi clarified. “Anyone important?”

  “Not to the masses.”

  “But to you.” Taavin keyed into the unspoken implication.

  “Back off, Voice,” Arwin snarled. “Whoever he was to me is none of your business.”

  Vi’s lips parted as her jaw relaxed. She put all of Arwin’s past actions, statements, reactions together in a second.

  “He’s Sarphos’s brother.” The family likeness was undeniable, now that she saw it. “He’s the one you were engaged to.”

  Who else would make a woman like Arwin leave her home and her post as guard to her father? Who else would have committed such a deep betrayal? Vi knew firsthand how hard it was to crack through Arwin’s callous exterior. If she let someone in, and that person betrayed her, they would be forever dead to her.

  Vi could relate.

  Arwin’s grip on her staff tightened. Her eyes were glued on Toris.

  “What of it?” she muttered.

  “We don’t need personal feelings getting in the—”

  “I will not have you lecture me, Voice.” Arwin glared between him and Vi, a look that said she had seen them waking side by side more than once. “This is personal. All of it is.”

  So much for being just business, Vi thought grimly.

  “Yes, Fallor was my betrothed. Yes, I was young and didn’t see him for what he was. I made the mistake of trusting him. Those are the faults I’ve had to live with for years since.”

  “He was the one to set up the shift around the Isle of Frost, wasn’t he?” Vi asked.

  “Yes. He wanted to learn the royal shift—the way we pulled the Twilight Kingdom out of reality. He’d always been fascinated by the notion… but something changed. Mere curiosity became a relentless pursuit. I didn’t know then, that Adela had already got to him. And fool that I was, I didn’t want to lose him, so I gave in.”

  Vi stared at Arwin’s detached and determined eyes. The woman had her jaw clamped so tightly, the muscles in her cheek twitched.

  “When the time comes, I have to be the one to do it.” She was talking about murdering a man she’d loved enough to marry at one point. “Neither of you will take this from me. I have to be the one to kill him.”

  “Are you sure?” Taavin asked, far too gently for a heart as ragged as Arwin’s. “You and he were—”

  “He’s yours,” Vi interrupted. Arwin looked directly at her now with all the same murderous intensity. “Adela took something—someone—from me, too. A woman who was a sister to me until I learned of her true nature. She was taken in by Adela, just as Fallor was. I had the satisfaction of revenge in her death. You will have your satisfaction today.”

  Arwin gave a small nod, the beginnings of what looked like a new foundation of shared understanding in her eyes. If Vi had read it correctly, it was coming from the last place she would expect. Without a word more, Arwin leapt from the crest of the hill on which they were standing. The shift rippled around her, and she was gone in a blink, a bird soaring off down to the town, ready to implement their plans.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Jayme?” Taavin asked as they started down the sloping field toward the main road into Toris.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” Vi looked over the crops and land as they passed between fenced pasture and open field alike. An uncomfortable quiet had
overtaken the hill. The houses were still; not a single farmhand was out tilling soil.

  “I haven’t asked about her because I assumed she’d decided to stay behind, but you said—”

  Vi spun, rounding on him. “I said I don’t want to talk about it. She was a traitor, nothing more.” Her voice dropped softer as she tried to quell the rage. Vi wrapped her hand around his. “I don’t want her name coming from your mouth. I don’t want to associate anything of you with betrayal.” She’d already toed that dangerous line once on finding out the true nature of the Faithful.

  “Are you all right though?” Taavin held her fast as Vi tried to pull away. “Jayme was—”

  “Jayme was no one. She was a traitor. She betrayed my family. It’s because of her Adela has my father. It’s because of her Adela had me. I gave her a traitor’s death and I don’t want to speak about her ever again.”

  “Very well.” Taavin released her and Vi quickly started on again.

  It felt like she was running. But she didn’t quite know from what. Just the mere thought of Jayme filled her with brutal darkness—not unlike the darkness that seemed to be settling on the land.

  They quickly discovered the reason why no one was working the fields—the houses were abandoned. What crops there were had rotted where they stood. Tilled soil had turned to hard, cracked mud, small deserts breaking up what Vi assumed was once fertile farmland. An ox rotted where it fell, eye-sockets oozing white.

  “Raspian’s power grows,” Taavin said, giving voice to their shared thought.

  “How much longer do you think the world has?” Vi wondered aloud, gripping the strap attached to the scythe.

  “Not long enough.”

  When they arrived in the town, there was no main gate to enter Toris. The buildings crept up from the earth. Most of the construction was waddle and daub, an ashy clay the same color as the raw earth of the central town square. By all appearances, it was not a wealthy place—but a few buildings boasted shingled roofs or intricately decorated glass in their windows. Where would money like that come from in a place like this? Nowhere good, Vi thought wryly.