Prologue
Hika feared she was going to be too late. Too late for the ship to make land, caught in the roiling waves of the waters around Sathkuro. Too late to reach the much smaller island off the southern coast of Sathkuro, once known as Nyggo. Too late to attempt to save the world from impending disaster, as the sky crackled overhead, saturated with the threat of a storm.
Beneath her feet the wood groaned against the strain of waves and she clutched the railing to keep her feet steady, unsure whether her hands were slick with saltwater or sweat. The last of her crew were battling the elements to keep them moving, some already succumbing to the spirit sickness that had killed most of their numbers in the past weeks. Too many bodies had she been forced to tumble into the churning, ravenous ocean, until only a handful of her party remained. Still, their resolution did not waver and for that she was grateful.
“We’re nearing land,” said Siglar, wringing the spyglass in her hands.
Hika nodded, squinting through the murky fog. She couldn’t see anything but she trusted her quartermaster to know what she was doing. If only she could say the same about herself. Too much rested on her success. The entire fate of the world swayed on the thinnest of threads, precariously close to snapping. When that last tether broke… she hoped no one survived to see the other side.
“Bring him up.”
“Is that a good idea?”
Hika turned to look the woman in the face, unused to seeing such doubt in her eyes. These were new times, indeed. “No. But it’s the only one we’ve got.”
Siglar nodded and hurried away, leaving her to her thoughts. Hika shut her eyes to the wind, hair whipping skin tender with salt, and forced herself to calm down. She had to forget the faces of those she had left behind and focus on those still alive; the ones she could save. There was still time. If the others were able to find the rifts – if she wasn’t alone – then maybe there was a chance, however slim, that the world wouldn’t be completely destroyed.
A chorus of yelling stole her attention from the sea, turning to see the crumpled body of yet another crewmember sprawled across the shining deck, limbs twisted and bent in ways that made her stomach swoop. Above his body shimmered a ghostly shape, unfurling into a strange ray-like creature with glowing red eyes. The cry it emitted pierced her skull and she fell to her knees, clutching her head with a silent scream. Pain, overwhelming and raw, exploded inside her. Her hands scrabbled in her hair, trying to claw it out.
Distantly she registered more screams but she couldn’t pull herself out of her fetal position, rain lashing down on her shuddering form. Help me, she begged, reaching deep inside herself. Help me fight this. It was her only lifeline and she had to take it.
A wave of calm washed over her, soothing the knots of tension in her mind. The other presence whispered in her ear, commanding for her to rise. Hika lifted her head. With calm movements, she picked herself off the deck and strode towards the commotion, vision sharper than before. All around her the currents of energy swelled, trembling with so much tension. The creatures of the rift lurked all around them; high overhead in the sky, and deep below in the depths of the ocean.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she should be more worried about the last dregs of her people, desperately battling off the huge riftspawn that hunted them, red eyes locking onto its target before diving down, down, down. But the creature was the only thing in her attention now, its own cold, icy signature sending shivers through her. It thirsted for power. It wouldn’t stop until they were all dead.
A clap thundered through the ship as a flash of green caught the corner of her eyes. When she looked behind her he was standing there, smirk corrupting handsome features as the green fire danced in his eyes. Before either she or Siglar could stop him he lunged at the riftspawn with hands of flame and crushed its form between his palms. The resulting bang sent out a blast of powerful energy that nearly knocked Hika off her feet, the blackened energy of the riftspawn seared away by the unnatural fire he controlled. When the smoke finally cleared she could see that the creature had faded away, crewmembers looking around themselves with wide eyes. The body of their fallen comrade still lay sprawled across the deck, the only evidence that they had been hunted.
Wreathed in flame and smoke, Vallnor turned his head to the sky and sighed, seemingly unaffected by the rain that lashed down, hissing and throwing up steam when it came into contact with the barrier around him. Hika’s skin erupted in gooseflesh. It was hard to believe without seeing just what power he possessed. No wonder his family had been in power for so long. Who could possibly topple a dynasty built on the fire of life itself?
And yet here he stood.
“Siglar, bind his hands. We must prepare for landfall.”
Vallnor’s head whipped around, eyes searing. “I’m the one thing standing between you and death.”
“I’m sure you can manage that without your hands.”
From within his eyes began to glow, the same deep green as his fire. “Do you want to try? I’m sure you won’t like the result.”
Even the presence in her mind was cowed by the overwhelming flood of power he exuded, strong enough to make her headache flare again. A tickle in her nostril was followed by the warmth of running blood beneath.
“Are you that desperate to see the world go under?” Hika stepped forward despite herself, fists clenched. “What will you rule over when there’s nothing left but you?”
Vallnor shrugged, head tilted as he took her in. “That’s just it. I don’t care what happens. You forget, Chana, that unlike you I cannot die. None of it matters to me. When this world falls I will rule over the one that rises in its place.”
The energy continued to rise, pressing down on her skull. Her eye twitched. It took all her might not to step back. “Stop. You’re going to attract them here.”
The flames rose, swirling through green, turquoise and blue. “Aren’t you curious to see what it will look like? This new world?”
“You’re mad! You can’t––”
The boat lurched and she lost balance, crashing painfully to the deck. With a groan she rolled away and found her feet again. Pressed against the railing she could just discern a shape through the gloom and drizzle of rain. The island. Nyggo. The rift. She was so close, and yet so far. One last push and she might make it.
The yell of a deckhand was carried away by a sudden gust of wind. It chilled her to the bone despite the heat. Her grasp on the railing tightened as the boat rocked again, a crate falling and crashing so close she could feel the vibration through her frozen fingers. The black waves parted like teeth, hungry to swallow her whole. Hika’s stomach lurched and she squeezed her eyes shut, connecting to that centre of calm within. All around her swirled the signature of hordes of riftspawn, closing in. Attracted to the beacon that was Vallnor himself.
The sound of cracking filled her ears, the boat continuing to shudder and jerk. Something beneath the waves was attacking the ship. One of the riftspawn. Or many. And yet the real monster bore a human face, walking calmly across the deck as if the rocking was barely an inconvenience to him, lips still pulled in that same smirk. Hika wanted to rip it from his face. She let the anger simmer, bubbling up into a potent brew of desperation, fear and resentment.
With renewed vigour, she lurched towards him. The boat creaked, wood giving beneath her, and she tumbled into him until they both crashed to the deck. Round eyes stared up at her as she breathed onto his face, hair hanging damp and stringy between them.
“The boat is going down.”
“I can see that.”
Her grip tightened on his wrists, drawing strength from her constant companion within. Satisfaction flooded her when he winced, straining against her. “We’re
going to the rift. We’re going to enter the world beyond. I’m going to fight this and you’re coming with me.”
Vallnor smirked again. “You’re so arrogant as to think you can save everyone, aren’t you?”
Hika dug her nails into his flesh.
“By the Locker, I’m going to try.”
Part 1: The Search
“In my defence, it wasn’t really my fault.”
Rook gave the man standing outside her cell a winning smile, brushing her matted hair behind her shoulders. The man – Alik, if her hazy brain could remember right – crossed his arms and raised a brow. “And how, exactly, do you figure that one?”
“We-ell,” she said, “I didn’t start the fight. It’s not my fault that the man was so bad at cards. He was just begging for his money to be taken, honestly.”
Alik clicked his tongue. “You think this is appropriate, do you?”
“It was just a harmless game.”
“And did you not stop to think about how this would reflect on the rest of us?”
“I’m not sure that it does.”
“You,” he said, jabbing a finger through the bars of her cell, “are representing The Order of the Riftkeepers. You’re supposed to think about how you act, lest you tarnish the good name of our organisation.”
Rook snorted, shaking her head as his nostrils flared. “Good name? What good name, exactly? Not a soul on this entire island gives a damn about this organisation. I dare say this city could be engulfed by riftspawn and the good folk would still complain about funding and superstition and how we’re all deranged escapees of the witless house.”
His answering glare told her how much he thought of this reply. “What other people say isn’t important. What matters is that we hold to the key principles of our––”
“You just contradicted yourself.”
“Excuse me?”
She shuffled over a little to better meet his eyes, suppressing a shiver as she splashed into a puddle, icy water seeping into her clothing. “You told me people will talk because I landed myself here for a night. But then you just said I shouldn’t listen to the gossiping of others.” She tapped a finger to her chin. “I must confess, I’m a little confused…”
Alik bristled, stepping forward. “Do you want out of here or not? Or are you going to continue to stir me up for your own amusement?”
She raised her palms in defence, affecting an innocent expression. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Alik-wei. I just want to get on with my job, if you don’t mind. I did not come all this way to sit in this cell.”
“You certainly don’t act like it.” He crooked a finger and a prison guard shuffled into view with a set of keys.
The rattle of the lock and then the creak of the metal gate swinging opened released some of the tension she’d been holding, breath releasing in a hiss between her teeth. Stiff from a cold night underground, Rook shook off her aching limbs and stretched out, rolling and cracking her neck just to see the disgust twist Alik’s features.
“Can I get my blades back?”
“We’re about to meet the Governor.”
Rook nodded. “Right. Appearances. But I really must insist. Can’t quite do my job without them.”
Alik gave her a long look and she held her chin high as his dark eyes ran over her form, presumably taking in her appearance as they traipsed up the winding worn stone staircase into the light of an airy hall. Tall, pale, broad-shouldered, with wild white blond hair framing eyes such a light grey they looked white, she knew these features marked her as a native of Rökkum, the Yllnyk, or the southern most island of their island chain. She was more than used to drawing in curious eyes but it was another thing to hang on the verdict of a man she would have to work with.
“Let’s make this quick, shall we?” was all Alik said after his appraisal.
She didn’t quite know what to make him of yet.
The man at the desk glanced up as they approached and then looked again, eyes snagging on her form as she bounded up and leant over his desk. “I have some items that were confiscated from me last night. I’d like them returned, please.”
Alik nudged her aside and handed the man a form. Once he retreated to his storeroom, stealing quick glances at her before his back disappeared through the door, Alik turned to her. “When we speak to Shaikaro-shai, please keep your mouth closed and let me do the talking.”
Rook tilted her head. “It was my understanding that the job had already been confirmed. I wouldn’t have come if there wasn’t a need for it.”
“And it was my understanding you were knowledgeable enough to know there’s a problem here. An urgent one.”
She sniffed, suddenly hesitant. It wouldn’t do to give too much away. “So you really believe the rift is going to rupture?”
“I wouldn’t have requested help otherwise. Although why they sent me you is still something I’m trying to fathom.”
“I’m doing my apprenticeship to become a rift warden. I suppose this is a test of my capabilities, if I had to guess.”
He raised a brow. “They still do that?”
“In places where they actually, you know, still have a functioning Order? Yes, they do. Oh, look,” she said, smiling at the man carrying her blades. “Thank you very much.” She kept smiling even as he flinched, twirling them around her hands and feeling more of that tension dissipate with their familiar weight in her hands. They were riftblades – weapons that could kill the riftspawn that came from the rifts between realms, unlike the average weapon – with wickedly curved steel blades and handles of polished bone, given to her by her father on her coming of age.
“Are you ready, then?”
Rook strapped the blades to her back and met his eyes with a nod.
“About time.”
They left through the front entrance, stepping into the warm sunshine of Shanku Square, a wide open expanse filled with bustling market stalls and the low hum of chatter. Striped marquees fluttered in a soft ocean breeze, all that would temper the heat of the afternoon once it descended upon them, thick and oppressive. Even now it made her sweat through her clothes, unaccustomed to the sticky climate of the Yllzlo.
The sweet aromas of cinnamon and saffron reminded her stomach that she hadn’t eaten all night, rumbling in protest. Flicking a coin at the street vendor, she nabbed a thick slab of bread and cracked it open with her hands, attempting a friendly smile at the townsfolk before her even as they cleaved in two to swerve around her, shooting her wary looks. She caught Alik’s eyes and shrugged, popping a piece of fresh bread in her mouth and savouring the still warm fluffy texture.
“So, what’s this meeting about, exactly?”
“He wanted to discuss the claims made by some of the townsfolk to see if they match up with our own findings. And the details regarding payment have still to be sorted.”
Rook nodded. “Important. Important. Do you know who else is joining us?”
“Two others from further afield. Both from Tsellyr, I believe. No one has the knowledge here.”
“You’ve all been infected by the Dusklanders. They’re all so concerned with how we’re such naïve little bumpkins we’ll believe anything we don’t understand to be the work of the gods, or whatever it is they like to claim. I swear it’s they who don’t understand.”
Alik pulled her away from a vendor selling sweet-smelling pastries topped with powdered sugar. “Says the woman who believes her knives are a part of her.”
“They’re reimyr. They’re sacred weapons, I’ll have you know!”
“And how does a pjurrei find herself with one of those?”
“Don’t call me that.”
He glanced at her and frowned when he saw that the smile had fallen from her face. “It offends you?”
Rook kept her eyes ahead. “It’s not a positive term.” Quieter, “I’m not a damned demon. Where I’m from shouldn’t be one my defining trait.”
Her tone carved a gulf of tension between them, the quiet quickly
filled by the distant hum of bartering and chatter. She was suddenly keen to have this meeting over so she could focus on the task ahead. As much as she had been looking forward to travelling to new and exotic places, the long journey by sea had worn her out, and she hadn’t accounted for how alien she’d feel in this place where the sweat dripped down her back and people stopped to gawk at her when she passed. Feeling like a zoo exhibit was not particularly thrilling, and she was feeling apprehensive about the others she would have to work with.
“It’s this one here,” said Alik, pointing to the entrance to the clock tower on the other side of the square, painted in a soft seashell pink. The great oaken doors below cranked open and a handful of soldiers in their indigo coats marched out, a few sparing her a glance as they passed. The sun glinted off their shiny buttons, boots polished and gleaming. In comparison, her days-old wear was still damp from the cell and looking worse for wear.
She sucked in a breath of air and squared her shoulders. Smile, be pleasant. Remember you’re representing your organisation. Old Grey would be tearing out the last of his hair if he knew she’d spent her first night on Yllzlo in a jail cell. At least he wasn’t likely to find out.
They entered through the front door into a spacious hall, sparse but refined, with a spiralling staircase to one side that led up into the tower. Their boots echoed on the tiled floor, the click-clack reverberating off the high ceilings. On the wall facing them was a painting of that old royal family long dead in the Sonlin Empire’s conquest of the Myrlik Islands. Creepy, she thought, the way their eyes seemed to stare at her as she waited at the bottom of the stairs.
Alik summoned a servant with a click of his fingers. “You,” he said, “tell the Governor that the representatives from the Riftkeepers have come for our meeting.”
The man bowed and scurried off, leaving them to stand awkwardly to the side of the staircase observing the people that came and went in flurries, the hall a constant state of movement. “How does he get anything done?” she mused, wondering if it was okay to lean against the wall, or if that would be too uncouth.
The Broken Door Page 1
