Viktor crept forwards and reached a tentative hand out to touch but then whipped it away at the last second. “Tomas,” he whispered, then turned and ran to the bucket in the corner, vomiting into it with a full body shudder.
“Who is Tomas?” asked Rook.
Viktor took a moment to regain his composure, wiping his mouth as he straightened up. “Just someone I knew.”
“A friend?”
“Not really.”
Kilai filed it away as something to investigate further at a later date. For now there was work to be done. “You’re certain that this is related to our investigation?”
“You can see it in the eyes,” said Alik, pointing. Kilai let her eyes skim over the face and nodded, looking but not seeing. The pungent smell was enough of an indicator that she would only lose her lunch if she did see. “If you look closely enough there are these spots on the whites of the eyes.”
“Yeah, I saw that happen before. It was one of the Vartza. They’re nasty, believe me,” Rook added, leaning over his shoulder, apparently unaffected by the body.
“This helps how?”
“I know what we’re dealing with now. Roughly speaking.”
“What is it, then?” Kilai folded her arms.
“I mean I don’t know exactly which riftspawn it is, but I can tell it’s powerful. Greater level, which means it can interact with and affect its surroundings. Malicious, because it’s more than willing to kill. It’s powerful enough that it needs stability by linking itself to the physical realm in some way, and at least intelligent enough to understand that link is the key to breaking the rift. It’s also growing stronger by the day, if it can go from draining simple crops to people. It won’t be an easy kill, but the criteria at least narrows the list down considerably.”
“But can you kill it?”
She didn’t fail to notice the hesitation on Rook’s face. “I can do it.”
“But?”
“Our time is running out. If it can grow stronger in mere days… the rift will not hold much longer.”
“Killing it will re-stable it, will it not?” said Alik.
Rook bit her lip. “In theory, if that’s not all we have to worry about. If that’s the only greater level riftspawn that has broken through the barrier, then, yes. It should work.”
“And if not?” It was Viktor that spoke before she could.
“We could be looking at an unlimited number of these creatures. Or worse.”
“Worse?”
“We could be on the verge of a new world. One that none of us will recognise.”
Kilai rubbed at her brow. “What does that even mean?”
“I mean a world where both realms bleed together, and the rules of neither apply, or worse, both. I mean a world where nothing will make sense, if we are even able to survive within it. It could mean the end of us all.”
She couldn’t help it; she shivered. Kilai wasn’t sure if she truly believed it but apparently her body did. “What can be done to stop it?”
Rook’s eyes were distant. “I don’t know. So much knowledge has been lost that I’m not sure anyone does these days.”
Kilai allowed herself to close her eyes for five seconds and breathe. There had to be a solution. There was always a solution. When she opened her eyes she found four pairs of eyes on her, awaiting her verdict. She sighed.
“You better get researching then.”
*
Rook took the backstreets up the steep incline to the library. These consisted of a dense maze of tightly winding alleys, each with their own new discovery to make. Whether that be the street with different kinds of crawling ivy that engulfed the sides of houses, budding with sweet smelling purple flowers, the crossroads at the centre of a spider web of different routes where women stopped to chatter amongst themselves, or the washing line she nearly caught herself on when slipping past two patrolling soldiers, tearing off a swathe of orange cotton and then tossing a coin to a disgruntled citizen that barked at her with a red face, she found herself enjoying the experience of life in such a different city from those in Rökkum.
She liked to explore. It was the kind of thing she would read about in books and long to experience in the darkest nights of winter, when venturing outside could become a danger in of itself. Descriptions of far flung exotic lands would stir her imagination and keep her occupied on the days where she could barely sit still, restless to always be moving.
When she turned to look back down the slope she could see the green waters of the bay, so much more vibrant and appealing than the choppy black waters of home. She inhaled the scent of sea salt with the undercurrent of something fouler but she didn’t mind – to Rook it was part of the experience and she found the city was utterly charming, particularly in the early morning when the sun crested the vicious peaks to the south and spilled gold light across the valley so that all was caressed by the warm glow. It was the popping colours against black cliffs and pale stone; the echoing prayers of gulls as they swooped overhead and the steady breath of the ocean that gave life in Yllzlo its own unique flavour.
As she reached the top of the hill she spotted the building she sought on the other side of a cobbled road, wide enough to allow carriages to trundle past. Built from a deep red brick that formed a circular tower, with a section at the top made of glass that widened out like the top of a lighthouse, the building across from her was quite the impressive structure, standing out against the lower level buildings that surrounded it. This was Nirket’s library.
Rook trotted over to the entrance and pushed open one of the great oaken doors, decorated with carvings of a winding serpent dragon, and poked her head around with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. The foyer was dimly lit but beyond the second set of glass doors with coloured panelling she could see the middle pillar of the room was stacked high with books. She nearly lost herself as she skipped through until a voice to her right interrupted her whilst her hand was poised on the door handle.
“You’ll need a pass to access the library.”
Rook turned to look at the attendant who gave her a dubious sweep up and down. She felt her gut coil but she forced herself to smile. “Just one second,” she said, colour blooming across her cheeks as she fished through the mess of her satchel, the attendant raising her brows. “There.” She slid it across, hoping it wouldn’t matter if the corners of the document were dog-eared.
The woman stamped the yellow paper and pushed it back. “The books cannot leave the library.”
“Okay.” She knew this but she continued to smile until her cheeks hurt.
Any embarrassment quickly faded away as she danced into the room, twirling around to get a look at the circular stacks of endless books, all the way up to the ceiling. The structure was built in layers, each floor with lanterns that cast spots of light, illuminating tables for reading. If she craned her neck far enough she could see the windows highest up, from which a beam of sunlight streamed down to highlight the intricate pattern on the floor beneath her feet, dust motes swirling through the air. She’d never seen anything like it.
I wonder what the Great Library of Tsellyr looks like. In comparison this was a much smaller collection but it was still beyond anything she had ever seen. She ached to run her fingers along the worn spines of the books and breathe in the musty scent of paper. Better not, she thought as she caught one woman’s eye from the first floor and had to resist the urge to tear her eyes away, instead smiling in what she hoped to be an unthreatening way. She trod over to one of the curving staircases, stone steps dipping in the centre from where they’d been worn away through use.
There was a sign on the wall that documented the types of books by floor and she peered at it, searching for whatever they might have on riftspawn as she wasn’t as familiar with the kinds that could be found on this island. As her eyes scanned the words, they snagged on one of interest: ancient languages – 4F. Would they have anything that would be able to tell her about the symbols she’d seen
on the temple walls? It had been nagging at her ever since she’d been there. She had tried to trace out the few she could remember but her artistic skill was limited and she’d smudged the ink all over the page and her hand, which still bore the stained evidence.
“One little peek couldn’t hurt, could it?” she said to herself. Kilai had given her the pass for research related to the job at hand but, really, it would be such a waste to visit such an ancient library and not take advantage of some of the unique texts it offered.
Rook was on the fourth floor before she’d even taken the time to justify it to herself, hands trailing over the smoothened wood of the railing as she scanned the shelves, unfamiliar with most of the time periods they were sorted into. I don’t even know what I’m looking for, she reminded herself, feeling some of her elation fade. Sensing she was only going to be wasting time, she allowed herself to linger for a few moments more before setting off for the upper floors, wishing she had more time to pour over the thousands of tomes from all over the world.
She stepped onto the sixth floor to have a quick glance around – religions of the world – and was just about to leave when a book caught her eye. Rook inhaled sharply, moving over to where a thick leather bound volume had been left on one of the round tables. Pressed into the brown leather were five symbols that bore a significant resemblance to those that had been on the tablet. She snapped it open, fingers pouring over the words. It was in a foreign language, the words mostly indecipherable to her. The script looked to be older, the lines and symbols more complicated than the Myrlik alphabet.
“Oh, for crying out loud!” she exclaimed, earning her sharp looks from those browsing the stalls.
She yanked out a chair and perched on the end, rummaging in her satchel for paper and ink and hastily copied out the symbols on the cover so that she could compare them to the ones she’d already seen. “This is probably a sign that I should get back to work,” she muttered to herself, grimacing at the heavy scratches against her paper that were paltry imitations of the embossed symbols on the book. At least she now had an idea of where to search, examining the bar on the spine and finding the corresponding shelf.
“Reilai Nan?” she read to herself. Not entirely sure whether it was the correct reading of the script, she flipped the closest book open, the spine groaning in protest. She had to pry the warped pages apart as if the book were determined not to divulge the secrets it held. “The Reilai Shah. A religion older than the Illuminated?” she murmured, squinting at the text, fingers following the dips and rivets of stained paper. Her pointer finger paused on a few lines she could discern by filling in a few smudged words. Followers of the Relai Shah worshipped [riftspawn] of the Otherworld gods. They would deliberately [invite] these beings into this realm. Older texts speak of [something] with them, much like the folktales about the beserkers in the Yllnyk.
Rook froze, suddenly glancing all around her and only relaxing when she realised no one was paying her any attention. It wasn’t like her people were religious, nor did they view spirits as gods, so the comparison made little sense. But to know that people had once sought to bring spirits into the physical realm baffled her. Why upset the balance of the world for a gain she couldn’t fathom?
She snapped the book closed, fingers lingering on the grain of the cover. Most books of its like had probably been burned, but perhaps the fact that it reported the Relai Shah as a mythology of the world rather than a real part of history had allowed it to pass the sensors. Either that, or its slim body had evaded their notice. Even so, the knowledge felt loaded; dangerous in a way she couldn’t explain. Listening to the warning voice in her head, she slipped the book back onto the shelf and left the section, locking the information away for further reflection. Her first priority still remained with the loose spirit.
Rook trekked further up the staircase until she was on a floor so high she could lean over the railing and see the tiny people walking below on the mosaic tiled floor. “Huh, so it’s a dragon.” From this perspective she could see how the slivers of coloured glass created the image of a winding blue serpent-like dragon, similar to the carving on the entrance doors. Its jaws were open and red flames spewed from its maw in vibrant fragments of stone. She pulled back, dizzy from the height and went to search the shelves, bathed in the light from the highest windows.
She hummed to herself to release some of her residual tension as she pulled several volumes from the stack and lugged them over to a table by the railing, dropping them with a thud. They mostly consisted of old classifications for riftspawn on the island, written by professors in a time before studying them had become something to be derided as folklore and fairytales. Once upon a time, it had been a serious academic field to study and attempt to classify their different types but since the arrival of the empire’s forces they had brought with them their dismissal of anything they deemed ‘blasphemous worship’. Rook was just glad these hadn’t been burned.
A tingle upon her skin alerted her attention and she glanced up into the soft fingers of light to see a small riftspawn turning lazy circles within its margins, flapping spiny wings and flicking a long spiked tail that faded into mist. It shifted between blue and green like the rolling waves of the bay.
“Hey, little one,” she whispered, reaching out to it. “What are you doing here?”
It poked its head up, round black eyes like marbles fixing on her as it coasted towards her outstretched hand. The touch of its snout to her skin sent a jolt through her, crackling like firewood, and it jerked back, transforming into a bat-shaped creature with wide translucent wings and needle-like teeth.
Rook winced, her nose feeling ticklish as if she might sneeze. “Sorry about that. I forget sometimes.” She didn’t know if it could understand her. Some speculated that higher classifications of riftspawn were capable of human language but it had never been strictly proven. She had certainly never witnessed one speak. Yet sometimes she thought that when she spoke they could almost understand her on some fundamental level. Maybe not the meaning of the words but a grasp of the sentiment.
The riftspawn drifted back towards her, swimming around her head until her vision was a blue blur. “Do you like to read, then?” she asked it as she attempted to open the first of her books with obscured vision. Dust plumed up into the air with a musty smell. The book had clearly not been touched in some time.
The riftspawn seemed curious at the swirling dust, chasing it around as it transformed back into its dragon shape, jaws snapping at air. She laughed at it as she began to skim through the index of her book, feeling its movements around her as she flipped through to halfway, trying to be gentle with the flimsy paper of the pages which were yellowing around the corners.
“I wonder what you are, little buddy?”
As if in answer it hovered for one moment above her and then suddenly dove for the table, dissolving into the book as the pages began to glow the same blue hue as its body had been. The pages fluttered to life as if caught on a wind and she reeled back, coughing as dust caught the back of her throat, eyes streaming.
“Please don’t wreck the book. Kilai will keelhaul me!”
Riftspawn were capable of interacting with the physical world but the extent to which and the limitations thereof were largely unknown, partly because the research had been hampered, and partly because it had been theorised that the parameters of their abilities were changing. She had seen one particularly mischievous riftspawn animate a sword and attempt to swordfight one of her fellow trainees in the barracks, although it had been clumsy and slow, unable to control the blade for long before it had spilled back out.
The pages were caught in a storm, the sound rattling, and she tried to duck over it to use her body to shield the view from prying eyes. The air hummed and crackled as she held onto the book with white knuckles, threatening to wrench from her grip and bounce away from her as she gritted her teeth against the force of it. Visions of the library ripped apart and burning had her terrified; enough so t
hat she closed her eyes and focused. Stop, she commanded. Stop. This time louder, the sound reverberating through her mind.
The book clattered to a halt, pages ruffling. One page glowed brighter and brighter before the riftspawn poured from the page, now in the form of a paper crane that flapped angular wings as it floated above her. There was something faintly sheepish about its movements as it circled her head and she narrowed her eyes at it.
“I’m watching you,” she said but she couldn’t stop the smile spreading across her face.
When she looked back down at her book she noticed the page it had been left open on. It detailed the basic information of the Taemlah, a lower level spirit that liked to dwell in old buildings and occasionally play pranks on people it spotted. It could only take the shape of things it had actually seen recently, specialising in mimicry, but tended not to hold to one form for very long. The author had theorised it wasn’t capable of doing so, perhaps due to a lack of concentration or intelligence.
That can’t be true, she thought, glancing back up at the paper crane making swan dives down to her eye level before fluttering back up before she could swat it away. She considered. Of all the places for it to linger it had chosen a library. Was it possible that it understood some form of human language? Or was it merely a coincidence she had found this page in particular? She couldn’t be certain but her gut called towards the former.
Rook tried to focus on narrowing down the candidates for her current task but her mind was too preoccupied by the wonder of her discoveries to let her thoughts stray elsewhere. She jotted down some possibilities and their weaknesses, the Taemlah continuing to distract her until she finally slammed the book closed with a sigh. She’d never been particularly good at concentrating on one thing for too long, anyway.
“I’ll be back,” she said. “Behave, you hear me?”
The paper crane waggled its pointed wings at her.
She shook her head with a short laugh. It had to be an effect of the presence of the rift. She just wasn’t sure what that meant for the future of Yllzlo if she was right.
The Broken Door Page 9
