Vortex Chronicles: The Complete Series (Air Awakens: Vortex Chronicles)

by Elise Kova

  “You killed him?”

  “Don’t act so shocked,” Vi gave a small laugh. “Isn’t that what you were teaching me? To protect myself?”

  “Yes but…” He squeezed her fingers. “It’s a relief to know you can.”

  “The word you gave me helped, if I’m honest.”

  Taavin gave her a small smile, one that quickly vanished. “What were you out there for anyway? I thought I told you not to be so reckless.”

  “What are you, my keeper?” Vi gave a small grin.

  “This is the second time you’ve scared me.” Taavin leaned forward slightly. She wondered if he realized he’d tensed his grip on her hand. “I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you.”

  The world stilled. Everything hung on her shallow breaths. Vi searched his shimmering emerald eyes and the sentiment in them suddenly sparked fear.

  “You’re going to die,” she blurted.

  To his credit, he didn’t even flinch.

  “Death comes for us all,” he said softly. “Your vision… Tell me what you saw.”

  “Taavin, you don’t understand.” Vi straightened away from the pillows. Her other hand reached over, sandwiching his. She clung to him, relishing in finally feeling him. “Someone is coming to kill you and I don’t know why, and you’re far, and I can’t help you, and—”

  “You can help me by telling me what you saw.” Vi shook her head and he freed his arm. She looked away, realizing how forward she’d been, only to feel his hand land on her cheek, gently guiding her face back to his. “Take a breath and tell me, Vi.” His voice was firm, stabilizing, as though cementing her mind back into place from whirling doubt.

  Vi recounted the broad strokes of the vision for him. “… but what you were holding, it looked like this.” Vi pointed to her watch.

  “You said I was kneeling before a fire?” Taavin asked and Vi nodded. His eyes dropped to the watch around her neck. “It must be…”

  “Didn’t you hear me?” Vi shook his hand lightly. “Someone is out to kill you.”

  “Do not worry so much for me,” Taavin mumbled, still clearly lost in thought.

  Vi balled her hands into fists. The spark roared to a blaze in her. The marrow of her bones was replaced by molten rock. She rose from the bed and stomped over to him.

  “Firstly, don’t you presume to tell me what I can and cannot do.” Vi held a finger in front of his handsome face. “Secondly… You are the only person who knows what in the Mother’s name is going on with me. So you can bet that I worry ‘so much’ for you.”

  Her two fingers hovered in the air between them. He looked down past them, to her. A small smile snaked across his lips.

  “Good to know your compassion is purely a result of pragmatism.”

  “You didn’t let me finish.” A third finger lifted. “And… third… I-I care about you, Taavin,” she said softly. His eyes widened a fraction. “You are the only person I’ve ever spoken to that I feel both listens and somehow fully understands what I say. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Vi hung her head. “I may have lost my father,” she finally said aloud. “I don’t want to lose you, too.”

  “Your father?”

  “They’ve declared him dead. Killed by pirates between here and Meru.” Vi shook her head. “I saw the vision of him with the queen, but what if the world has changed? What if I did something that led to my father’s death?”

  She looked up at him, searching, though she didn’t know what for. Their hands shifted once more, curling around each other in a new way. It was as though, regardless of how they moved, neither wanted to relinquish their hold on the other. They had finally found this connection… what if they never had it again?

  “I will look for information on your father. And we will seek out more apexes of fate—perhaps you will see him again. Do not despair yet.”

  She swallowed, giving a nod. As long as there was hope her father was alive, she would be strong. She would not believe he was dead until she laid eyes on his body, or the person who claimed to have killed him.

  “I can find more apexes here. I’ll be headed south in a few months… Surely there will be some along the way. Maybe I can make sense of the two I don’t yet know.”

  He paused, eyes darting over her face. Vi knew the look of a person who was hesitating. She leaned forward slightly, hanging on his next words.

  “We need more than that. Your latest vision… I believe the key to saving this world lies in the watch around your neck.”

  “What?” Vi freed a hand, grabbing it protectively. Taavin’s glyph shimmered over and through her fingers.

  “I need you to bring it to me.”

  “I can’t just leave… It doesn’t work that way,” Vi whispered, knowing he was all but trapped in the Archives of Yargen on Meru. “I have a duty to my people. And my family, they’re here, on this continent.”

  “If Raspian goes unchecked, your people and your family are forfeit. If you remain there, the elfin’ra will hunt you until they have you. Vi, come to Meru.” Taavin stared down at her with his impossibly brilliant eyes. “We will find the truth of your father along the way. You will learn full mastery of your Lightspinning. And, together, we may find a way to seal away Raspian once more, and put an end to the plague that heralds the coming end of days.”

  Vi swallowed, trying to clear her throat. She wanted to sound braver than she felt, ignore the odd nerves firing within her and setting her to quivering. Champion of Yargen, Lightspinner, heir to the Solaris Empire… Vi did not speak on behalf of any of her titles.

  She spoke for herself and herself alone when she whispered a simple, “Yes.”

  for my author community

  Chapter One

  Her hands moved through the dark night, leaving strands of light in their wake.

  Vi Solaris was illuminated by the lingering remnants of fading spells and bright sparks of sorcery that caught on the rough-hewn walls of the sparring pit. The lines cut against the darkness in brilliant streaks—concentric circles, triangles, and dots that all spun together. Every mark had meaning, crafted by her knowledge and will, and brought to life with the utterance of intricate sounds.

  “Juth starys.” As she spoke, her right hand lifted. The left was balled at her side, rigid, an anchored glyph circling her wrist. It held a completely different spell in place.

  “Juth mariy,” the man opposite her quickly called back, impossibly fast. Symbols flashed into existence around him, hovering before her. The glyph was the embodiment of the words he’d spoken—words of the Goddess Yargen. It crashed against her own forming glyph, snuffing it instantly. “Don’t lift your hand. You’re telegraphing your movements.”

  “My mother had a problem with that, you know.”

  “Not surprised, then.” Taavin lunged for her. “Mysst siti larrk!” The light sparked, running down his outstretched forearm as he moved. It condensed before his open palm, shooting out and away from him to form a short sword.

  “Mysst xieh,” Vi said hastily, dodging even faster. His sword bounced off the glyph she used as a shield.

  Taavin uncurled his fingers, allowing the sword to fly from his hand at the momentum. When it left his palm, it looked just as any other normal sword would. But before it could hit the ground, the weapon unraveled into thousands of threads of light and vanished. Around his other hand, fresh magic was already gathering.

  She could almost see the meaning in it before he even spoke the words. She had been studying the glyphs for months now. Training with their shape and words. Vi knew what he was about to levy as the magic collected.

  But she saw it too late.

  “Loft dorh.”

  “Jut—” Vi began to say. But his glyph had formed before she could complete the two words that, when combined, meant to destroy magic.

  Her body went rigid and all movement vanished. Loft, the high-level magic to incapacitate. Dorh, the secondary for immobilization. Vi fought against the invisible c
hains holding her, but they were too strong. No matter how hard she struggled, she couldn’t even move an inch. Even her mouth was frozen open, mid-juth.

  Taavin stared at her. The glyph still surrounded his fingertips. His magic was elegant, carefully crafted, and twice as bright as Vi’s. She admired it, just as she admired the way its glow highlighted the deep purple of his hair and cut of his jaw; there wasn’t much else for her to do in her present state.

  Finally, he lowered his hand. The moment the glyph vanished, Vi could move once more. She stumbled, found her footing, and turned to face him.

  “How do I fight against that?”

  “You were right to go for juth mariy. You just weren’t fast enough.” Taavin ran a hand through his messy hair. When he pulled it back his pointed ears were visible. Whenever she saw them, it was a reminder that for the easy closeness she had found with the man, there was nothing physically close about him. He was elfin, a race that didn’t exist as far as the Solaris Empire was concerned, and he lived across the sea in Risen on the continent of Meru—a distance Vi could barely comprehend and hadn’t even known existed until a few months ago.

  A distance she’d have to find a way to traverse to get to him.

  Her magic tutor, her friend and confidant, wasn’t actually there at all. She could see, hear, and feel him, but he only existed for her. The magic Vi had anchored to her left wrist had summoned him, and would keep him with her as long as she willed without sapping her magic, thanks to the word of power the goddess had bestowed on her at an apex of fate.

  “So if I can’t cancel the immobilization, I’m trapped?” It seemed a vastly unfair spell.

  “As long as the caster holds the glyph.”

  “Someone could keep me trapped forever?” Not that she wasn’t already trapped, in a way. Vi hadn’t left the fortress for weeks now—not since the latest and worst outbreak of the White Death had taken hold of Soricium.

  “No one could hold the word forever. Loft takes a great deal of energy because a whole person is very difficult to keep completely still. The second the caster’s magic or attention wavers, you’d break free.”

  Vi looked him over skeptically. He’d shed his usual heavy, embroidered coat for their practice. Now he wore a tight-fitting, long-sleeved shirt that hid little of his lean chest and was tucked beneath a wide pair of trousers. Not one area of fabric clung with sweat.

  “You don’t look like you expended a great deal of energy.”

  “Looks can be deceiving.” A small grin quirked the corners of his lips. “And I am the Voice.”

  Yargen’s Voice. It was a title Vi still couldn’t fully comprehend. She knew it meant Taavin was important, that he held vigil over an eternal flame said to be the last remnant of the goddess’s power on earth… And that he had been kept sequestered all his life above the city of Risen, under lock and key.

  It was a situation all too similar to Vi’s.

  “A similar form of incapacitation you may want to begin with is loft not—to sleep. It’s not as effective, because anything could wake the person and the spell would be broken. But it’s easier to cast and maintain. You could actually move while holding it.”

  “Well, I’m the Champion… so I should be able to make loft dorh look just as easy in time.” She hoped, at least. But the only thing Vi knew less about than being Yargen’s Voice, was being the godddess’s Champion. “Speaking of our supposed titles… Any progress on the Apexes of Fate?”

  Vi started up the stairs to the pit, Taavin following dutifully behind. She glanced over her shoulder at him, pausing when the silence continued to stretch on. His brilliant emerald eyes were fixated across the pit, avoiding hers.

  “That’s a yes.” Vi slipped her long braid over her shoulder, running her fingertips along its end. “What is it?”

  “I’m not sure, entirely.” Rather than pestering, she waited for him to find the words. “The vision of the room keeps appearing.”

  “Room…” Vi thought back to the last time he’d listed possible locations for apexes. “The throne room? Or the one you mentioned with the two women?”

  “The latter.”

  “Have you seen anything different?”

  “That’s the thing: every time I see it, it’s different.” He looked up to her. “All glimpses… sometimes focused on shelves crammed with jars of various objects—bits and baubles stacked around them to the point of chaos. Sometimes there are people, sometimes not. Tapestries darkened with soot hanging over a fire. I see them holding things, and—”

  “Casting them into the flame?” Vi finished for him. Taavin’s lips hung, slightly parted, the words he’d been forming never leaving. Instead, they closed briefly, and a new statement was put together.

  “How did you know that?”

  “It sounds like a curiosity shop.” Vi glanced over the top of the training pit, looking for the horizon line—or as close to it as she could see in the jungles. The sky was still dark, which meant she didn’t have to be rushing back to her room. This was a conversation that Vi didn’t want to cut short. “I’ve never seen one, of course…” She had spent her life in this fortress, confined to the city and at most its immediate surrounding area. All of that would change soon. “But that sounds like the descriptions I’ve read in books—the variety of objects to burn, people there sometimes and not at a later date. It all seems to add up.”

  “It can’t be a curiosity shop, then.” Taavin shook his head, his tousled hair getting further out of place in the process. For one brief second, Vi wondered if it was as soft as it looked. But she fought off the need to tuck a stray strand behind his pointed ear.

  “Why?”

  “Because in the last dream I had…” His voice disappeared, and with it his attention on her once more.

  “You… what?” Vi shuffled on the step. There wasn’t much room, and she couldn’t catch his eyes without all but stepping into him.

  “I thought I saw you looking into the flame.” Was that a blush on his cheeks, or a trick of the magical light that lingered on him? “I think it was likely just a run-of-the-mill dream—not tied to fate or us or the apexes.”

  He’d “run of the mill” dreamt about her? Vi swallowed down her heart so it wouldn’t beat so loudly in her ears. She was being ridiculous. He’d said she’d tortured him in dreams all his life.

  But wouldn’t those be related to the Apexes of Fate?

  Did he dream of her differently now than he had before?

  “Why—” Vi cleared her throat. “Why couldn’t it be me?”

  “You see the future at the apexes, but my visions and dreams seem to look to the past—places where fate was changed, not will be.”

  “Well, then I suppose it couldn’t be me, given that I’ve always been cooped up here.” Vi shrugged and started up the stairs again, ignoring the opportunity to follow up on the implication that she’d been appearing in his dreams. If she acknowledged that, then she’d have to admit he’d begun to do the same for her and that—

  A new thought stopped her dead in her tracks at the top of the pit. Taavin’s hand rested lightly on her back as he rounded her side.

  “What is it?” he asked, gravely serious the moment he saw the expression on her face.

  “Unless it was me, but wasn’t me,” Vi whispered, looking through him, back to a strange interaction with a Western woman in the winter solstice market.

  “How is that possible?”

  “If you dream of the past, where the lines of fate twist and align, then perhaps I’ve never been the one torturing you.”

  “I’ve seen you.” He took a small step closer. “I’d know your face of any in the world.”

  “Perhaps… Unless my face isn’t my own, but that of a princess reborn,” Vi whispered.

  “What?”

  Vi glanced once more to the horizon. She should have time still. If she hurried, she should have time.

  “Vi, rebirth isn’t—”

  “How clear of a look did y
ou get?” Vi turned to him, scooping up his hands. They were warm under her palms, as though he eternally lounged in sunlight. “Are you certain it was me? Beyond all doubt?”

  “I can’t say beyond all doubt about anything.” He sighed heavily. “My dreams don’t come with instructions.”

  “Good, because I think I know who it was—who it might have been all along.” Vi started off over the hard-packed earth that lined the fighting pits.

  The fortress of Soricium, built directly into the towering trees that were hundreds of stories high, had many entrances from the fighting pits. There was the walkway that arched over the center of the fortress, up to a balcony that connected to the tree that housed the nobility. There was a gaping entrance in a trunk that ultimately led up to where Chieftain Sehra’s warriors resided—not far from the new wall that now surrounded the whole fortress.

  But Vi headed for a staircase off to the side that wrapped around a smaller tree.

  “Not that I can’t keep up.” Taavin matched pace at her side. Vi wondered if he had to exert energy to traverse her world with her or if it happened by sheer will of magic. “But I don’t know if you really want to bring me into the fortress.” He pointed to the glyph around her arm. “Just in case someone sees…”

  “Right.” Vi held up her left hand, looking at the magic she’d anchored there hours ago, about which she’d all but forgotten. What would it be like if his presence wasn’t solely determined by a set of words? His fingers closed around hers, as if he could sense the thought, and her eyes jerked to his.

  “Before you do, tell me what you’ve managed to piece together?”

  “Curiosity shops are a distinctly Western trade. My family has roots in the West.” She could see as he began to connect the dots she’d already joined to form a clear picture in her mind. “Months ago, during the winter solstice, there was a Western woman who mentioned curiosity shops—that her caravan was said to be in possession of one bestowed on them by my grandmother.”

  “Your grandmother?”

  “Princess Fiera, the last princess of the West.” Her insides wriggled in excitement. Vi’s fingers closed tighter around Taavin’s and they were drawn closer together, by just a fraction. “The woman said she came to see me, because in the West they say I am her, reborn. That I look just like my grandmother.”