The Broken Door

by Sarah Stirling

  “Thanks, Jan-ka.”

  He raised a brow at the nickname. “You need to take one side and I’ll take the other.”

  “Do you have enough shots left?”

  Janus turned back and she could see him load the chamber. He held the last bullet up before he slotted it in, saying, “Got three of these things left. Don’t know if it’s enough.”

  Translation: you’re the one that will have to finish the job. Rook felt her grip tighten on the handle of her blades, peering out into an empty clearing. Hopefully Viktor and Kilai had found some kind of shelter. Her breaths were coming quicker and she could feel the rage of The Rook simmering beneath the surface, seeking vengeance for the embarrassment of being hit. Riftspawn fed one another, and it – she – was ravenous for the strength of her current prey. But she couldn’t lose herself to it. Not like before.

  “Someone needs to play bait,” she said. “Lure it out.”

  A crunching noise caught her attention. It was Viktor a few feet away, ducking down under some foliage. Janus jerked his chin.

  “Not Viktor. They seem to stay away from him.”

  “Stay away from him?”

  “Now’s not the time. It’s you or Kilai and quite honestly I’d feel easier sending you out there.”

  “Here I thought we’d been getting along.”

  She flashed her teeth at him. “This is us getting along. Aren’t you having fun?”

  He grinned. “Sure am.”

  “I knew I liked you.” She clapped him over the shoulder. “All right, go out there and make lots of noise. Attract attention towards yourself.”

  Janus mimicked tipping his hat and then sauntered out towards the clearing, whistling an unfamiliar tune. His black coat flapped out behind him as he walked, a dark figure against a silver backdrop. The easiness of his movements spoke of the gunslingers of legend, like the ones she used to pretend to be as a child until her mother would scold her for idolising bad people, and tell her that she should never touch such base weapons. Janus might have been the very type she would have pretended to be, so freely did he move, and seemingly without fear.

  Rook watched him reach the centre of the small pocket between the trees with baited breath, waiting for action. Her senses detected the creature nearby, enough that it tingled beneath her skin and itched at her to move, but she reeled her frazzled attention back in. Focus. If she didn’t then the other part of her would take over and she would no longer be the one in control. Then she really would be nothing but the monster others assumed she was; a perception she could not – would not – bring into reality.

  Why isn’t it attacking? Patience was not one of her finer suits and she could barely keep herself still as she waited. As a greater riftspawn, this creature would be more intelligent than those she was used to interacting with but it shouldn’t be able to resist the craving for more power. The more life it took, the more it would begin to change, morphing into a creature of both the otherworld and the physical one. The more it would seek even greater power, in order to survive.

  A yell erupted from the undergrowth, followed by more shouts as a flock of birds shot into the night sky, cawing. The bushes shook and then stilled, silence descending once more as Rook tore towards the noise. When she dove into the foliage, her weapons out, she stumbled at seeing nothing there and braced herself on her haunches, looking around her in confusion. Her spirit sense was fraying, energy swirling all around her in a storm of sensations she could not differentiate between. Then the light from the moon died, buried beneath heavy clouds, and she was left to the darkness.

  Rook didn’t even have the time to wonder what had happened as a scream tore through the stillness of the night. She was back on her feet, running. “Viktor? Kilai? Janus?” She called out each of their names in succession, to no reply. Panic was sewing its seeds and she frantically trampled on The Rook sprouting from within.

  Just enough to see. She needed to know where the creature was but she feared what she would become if she couldn’t control herself. Imagine the well. One pail. All I need is one pail. The image anchored her focus as she latched onto the power swirling within, feeling it crackle in delight, and she sighed with relief as it surged through her. More. She always wanted more.

  No. One pail.

  Rook fought against the creature within and cast out her net, feeling all around her. More sensitive now, she could detect the disturbances caused by the riftspawn in the vicinity. There was one in particular that drew her attention. She froze. Behind her.

  Whipping around, she glimpsed the briefest flash of blue before she stumbled back, trying to get the blade out in front of her. It disappeared. All was silent, eerily so, and although her sight was better than the average human’s, she could still only get a limited feel for her surroundings. The tremble of spiritual energy still vibrated all around her and her heart raced as she circled, waiting.

  The silence pressed down on her, exposing the sounds of each breath she took, sawing in her ears. She was so tense she was poised to spring. That same energy flashed all around her, leading her in a twisting, spinning dance until she felt dizzy. Only then did she glimpse another flash of that ghostly face before it disappeared again. She sprang forward too late and then struggled to rebalance her footing when she caught a blur of blue from the corner of her eye.

  The light would sputter out and then reappear, closer than before. It left her reeling, unable to react fast enough. There was no laughter this time. The silence only seemed to taunt her even more.

  Rook forced herself to take a deep breath and focus on the thread of energy weaving through myriad others, latching onto it. She didn’t even open her eyes as the creature appeared before her, slicing with her blade and grinning as she felt the purchase of flesh. The blade leached off spiritual energy and it raced through her, delicious and addictive. Quicker now, she struck out again and heard the woman cry out in pain.

  She faltered for little more than a second but it was enough to let Lyss escape, bowling through the jungle before Rook could catch her. Cursing, she pursued, following the thread of spiritual energy until a gunshot rang out, followed by another. She shuddered to a stop, locating the direction the shots had come from, fearing being shot by friendly fire.

  Taking her time was torturous but she finally found Janus on the ground, clutching his arm. “You all right?” she asked, crouching down beside him. Blood was glistening faintly through a rip in the sleeve of his coat. It looked like it had been shredded by an animal.

  “I like this coat,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Have you seen––”

  A shout interrupted her question and she sprung to her feet, sparing Janus a glance over her shoulder.

  “Go. Don’t hesitate.”

  Rook nodded as she tore off after Viktor and the Gorgei, branches tearing at her as she hacked a path to her friend. How did this thing move so fast in a human body? It had to be what caused such rapid deterioration in its victims. Even with her enhanced senses and abilities, she struggled to keep up with it, weariness looming over her as she finally caught and crashed into Lyss, sending them both rolling through the earth.

  “Rook!” Viktor helped her get to her feet, his hands cold against her skin. “I couldn’t find anyone.”

  She was relieved to see that he seemed relatively unharmed. “We need to––”

  In a flash of blue, Lyss ran into Viktor and knocked him to the ground, sending them both rolling down a small incline towards the stream. Water splashed as they tumbled into the water, the fiery aura flaring around Lyss as she began to pull at Viktor’s energy. Beneath her, Viktor shuddered.

  Rook threw herself down the slope, catching soil and twigs and stones as she tried to steer herself down as best as she could, boots splashing into the water. Viktor’s movements were growing sluggish under Lyss and she knew she had to be fast. Not giving herself time to guess a second time, Rook swung her blade towards Lyss, whose arm shot out and caught it. The blad
e sliced through flesh and caught on bone, blackened blood oozing out as the creature hissed between Lyss’s lips.

  Then the woman’s eyes darkened, life seeping back in. She saw the person beneath. Her eyes welled with so much pain and the untold horrors of having her body taken from her. I am so sorry, Rook thought as she wrenched the blade from bone. Without hesitation she swung again, but the body reacted so quickly she hit Lyss’s torso instead of her neck with a sickening crunch, and winced at the shrill howl as Lyss crawled away.

  It was so easy to imagine herself in this woman’s place, agency lost to the beast within. But she couldn’t let it stop her. The humane thing to do would be to end her suffering. Rook guide me. Cowardly as it might have been, she let The Rook’s bloodlust drive her as she chased the crawling women downstream. Too many lives had been lost to her reluctance to end another life, even though the end had already been foretold as soon as she had been possessed.

  The rage surged like a storm within her as she raised her blades, metal gleaming in the scythe of moonlight above. Then on an exhale of breath, Rook arced her blades downwards, cutting through bone and sinew to remove the head from the rest of the body. She watched it bounce against a rock and splash into the stream, the water staining dark with blood. At long last she felt the aether tremble and sigh as the spirit was purged, the task finally complete.

  Then Rook sat down, ignoring her own disturbed expression in the bloodstained mirror of her blades.

  *

  Viktor was exhausted, his whole body trembling with the simple effort it took to sit up. The stream glistened as the water flowed lethargically towards Rook, sitting at its bank with her feet submerged, staring at the sky as if it held the secrets to the universe. Beside her lay the headless body of the soldier that had tried to kill them, finally dead. Were they free? Was that strange, monstrous demon finally gone?

  His feet sank into the muddy bank, footsteps squelching as he approached Rook and sat down beside her. She had just saved his life – had saved them all – but she looked numb; younger than he had ever seen her, hunched over with her knees pressed to her chest. Flakes of blood were crusted on her forehead and pale hair; the damning evidence of why the normally animated woman remained so still.

  Remembering the last time they had come to this island, Viktor picked up her discarded blades and dunked them in the water, using a ratty handkerchief to wipe off the congealed blood. It was only a little thing, and he did not understand why it mattered to her, but he hoped it would demonstrate how grateful he was to her for what she had done.

  “My shirt is ripped again,” he said. “I don’t have the money for a new one either. Locker knows if I’ll be able to rescue this waistcoat.” It saddened him more than his casual tone belied. He’d invested all his money in that waistcoat before his life had become hunting deadly spirits on uninhabited islands.

  He continued washing until the metal was spotless, holding up his handiwork with satisfaction. “Well, that’s about all I’m good for.” Placing them back at her sides, he let himself flop back against the ground, utterly drained of energy. With all the strength he had left, he pulled his shirt up to inspect the ribs he’d bruised during his fall, grimacing as his fingers traced over the tender flesh.

  Then the strangest thing happened. Green flame emerged from the bruising, soft and flickering, and he yelped, scrambling in the dirt. He tried to pat it out only to find it didn’t burn, but merely itched as if he was being tickled by a feather. Blinking, confused, he touched the same spot and found the pain had lessened, the swollen bump less pronounced. What in the Locker?

  “What’s wrong?”

  Viktor looked into Rook’s eyes, ghostly silver in the reflection of the moonlight, and then back down at his skin. The green flames were gone, presumably just a figment of his overtired mind. Had he somehow become infected upon contact with the spirits? Was that possible? His gut clenched at the thought, eyes falling on the sightless head that rested beside them like some kind of morbid trophy.

  “Uh, nothing,” he said, dropping his shirt. “How are you doing?”

  Rook wiped at her face, smearing mud across her brow. “I’m fine. Just tired.” She looked down at the weapons beside her and then her eyes flitted back to him. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he replied, turning away. The sincerity was overwhelming.

  Rook huffed and then he felt a hand pressing down on his head, ruffling his hair. Viktor squawked and tried to push her off of him, glaring when she began to laugh. In truth he was glad to hear that laugh again, especially after all that had happened.

  “I’ll try and see what I can do about your clothes,” she said as she rose to her feet, helping him up as she did so.

  Viktor looked down at his bedraggled appearance. “I think it’s a lost cause.”

  At that moment her head darted up and Viktor jumped as Janus appeared from the shadows, holding his arm to his chest. It was a jolting reminder of his own wounds that somehow did not feel as bad as they had when he had fallen. What if he really had been possessed? Would they have to kill him then? Panic began to creep through him, chilling him despite the heat of the jungle.

  “Any sign of Kilai?” asked Rook.

  Janus shook his head.

  “How’s your arm?” Rook grabbed hold of it even as he tried to wrest free from her grasp and pushed back his sleeve. Trying not to wince, Viktor had to look away from the deep gash in his forearm, weeping blood. “Locker damn us!” She appeared to be looking for something, until Janus handed her a piece of cloth from his pocket that appeared to be some kind of handkerchief. Viktor hadn’t thought him the type.

  Rook bound the wound with the cloth and grimaced. “It’ll have to do until we get you back to the city. How are you otherwise?”

  “Fine.”

  “And you are a liar. A liar who is going to wait right here until Viktor and I find Kilai. You hear me?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Viktor snorted despite himself. “Can you even shoot with your other hand?”

  “Can shoot. Accuracy might not be the same but––”

  “Basically you’re useless right now,” Rook said cheerfully. “So stay put and wait until we get back.”

  Janus looked as disgruntled as Viktor had ever seen the man but he seemed to accept his fate with a resigned sigh, leaning against the squat trunk of a tree with long feathery fronds that cast him into shadow and hid him from view. Viktor shook his head as they marched back towards the direction they’d come from, scanning the ground for signs of their comrade. “That was pretty harsh.”

  “Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind.”

  “Does this have anything to do with your guilt by any chance?”

  “I don’t know what you mean, Viktor,” she said.

  “Right.” His sodden shoes squelched and he sighed. “Of course.”

  Conversation died for a while as Rook investigated tracks on the ground, occasionally pausing to sniff the air, her eyes glowing as she did so. After a long moment the glow faded and she sighed, scrubbing at her face. “I’m too tired.” Even her head was drooping, as if too heavy for her to carry.

  “Your nose is bleeding.” He pointed to the red beneath her nostril.

  Rook wiped it away. “It’s the rift. I can feel it everywhere. It’s nearly fully open.”

  “What will that mean?”

  “That anything can come through.”

  Viktor thought of the riftspawn they had just fought and shuddered. Anything did not sound pleasant. Were there creatures worse than the Gorgei in the otherworld? If so, he was not particularly keen to find out.

  “Great. Can’t wait until we’re all just jam jars for spirits.” He caught her distant expression and cringed. “No offense or anything.”

  “No, it’s a pretty apt analogy actually,” she replied with a small smile.

  The wind began to pick up, bringing with it a welcome relief from the brutal humidity. It cooled the sweat
on his skin and he raised his head to it with a sigh. “That’s nice. Wait, what is it?” Rook was tapping on his arm.

  “There’s something else here.”

  Viktor groaned. “I’m not fighting any more of those things.”

  Rook was already scampering ahead and he took off after her, determined not to get separated this time. If anything was to happen he fancied his survival had better chances with her than without. So focused was he on keeping up that he missed the familiar signs until they broke the tree line to the entrance of the underground temple, Viktor reeling back from the edge with a yelp. His hand slammed over his rampant heartbeat, the spike of adrenaline turning his limbs heavy.

  “I might have accidentally led us here by mistake.”

  Viktor stared down at the gloomy depths of the chasm. “Well, we’ve seen it. That means we can go back now, right?”

  “Someone is down there.”

  A rustling noise confirmed her words, and then a voice called out, “Viktor?” It was Kilai.

  Rook was already climbing down the latticework of vines. “We’re coming!”

  “I don’t need to come down. Right?” He looked around himself in the darkness and caught a flash of red. A scream tore from his throat before he realised it was the red riftspawn hovering beside him, small translucent wings humming. The tail no longer trailed off into smoke but now ended in a black spiny fin that seemed to vibrate in the air.

  “Viktor? You all right up there?”

  “Fine,” he said, cheeks flushing with heat. “I’m just coming down.” He looked back at the red riftspawn. “You and me are going to have words, little guy.”

  In the darkness it was difficult to navigate the footholds, and he nearly slipped a few times as he swung precariously, scraping his elbow off the stone wall. He hissed at the sting, pausing until he got his breathing under control, and then dropped the rest of the way to the floor. It was even harder to see in the cavern, only able to discern the shapes of Rook and Kilai in the gloom.