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

by Elise Kova

  Vi turned, looking back to Adela. She found the woman encased in her own thinning shield of ice.

  “You…” the woman whispered. “It was you, your magic that broke my treasure ward all those years ago.” There was a joke somewhere in those words, judging from Adela’s crazed laughter, but it was lost on Vi. “It was you who stole the Crown of the First King from me! You, a human girl!” She was screaming now. “How? Tell me how!”

  Everything around them was burning as Vi’s fire continued to increase in power. Men and women screamed, jumping into the water, pouring out from decks below. The ashen ice-soaked wood was quickly drying under the heat of her flames, the ancient tinder going up almost eagerly once freed from its cold prison.

  “You would see your crew die and your ship burned to save yourself?” Vi wondered at the strange phenomenon she witnessed around her: Adela was drawing her power inward to protect herself. She was the only one untouched by Vi’s fire.

  “I’ve lived too long to die here and now,” Adela said off-handedly, the ice continuing to surround her like a frozen coffin. “I have much to do, yet. And I know you won’t kill me now, little princess. Because I have your father.”

  Time seemed to slow. The crackle of the flames had vanished alongside the screams of the pirates. There was only Adela and her savage grin with the sounds of Vi’s breathing layered atop.

  “I will find him with or without you. Nothing will stop me,” Vi whispered. With a shout of agony, Vi placed all her focus on Adela. “Juth starys hoolo!” Ice sheered away in sheets at the initial fiery assault, evaporating before it could even drip onto the deck.

  “Finally, a Solaris with real fight!” Adela pushed the ice forward.

  Startled, Vi didn’t have the chance to incinerate it completely, and was sent tumbling by the blow. She felt the tell-tale crackle of magic under her left shoulder and Vi rolled just in time to see a spear of ice protrude from the deck. Another crackle, another roll, this time onto her knees.

  Adela lifted her cane, and a thick mist poured from the top. Like a weighted blanket, Vi could feel it sitting heavily atop her flames, trying to smother them. She stood, ignoring the force pushing her downward.

  With a wave of her arm, and a shout of “Juth mariy,” Vi attempted to stunt Adela’s magic. The woman dodged her glyph. Why did she ever try mariy? It never worked.

  But Adela’s movement redirected her oppressive mist, and that allowed Vi’s flames to feed off fresh air once more, seeking more exposed timber to burn.

  The pirate captain shifted her cane from hand to hand. Reaching out with her icy grip, her fingers elongated to dagger-like points.

  “Mysst xieh.” The shield blunted the icy lances. She was so busy with the first attack that Vi didn’t notice new ones appearing at her flank.

  Vi let out a scream—a noise she’d never heard herself make before—as pain poured from her like the crimson blood that spattered the deck. She looked at the blood, remembering the carnage she’d wrought on the beach.

  This was how people died.

  “And here I thought you were something special.” Adela withdrew her hand, returning it to her side.

  Pressing her hand into her side, trying to stave off the blood flow, Vi blinked at Adela in an attempt to regain her focus. Better dead than in the hands of the elfin’ra, a voice repeated in her mind. Life had been reduced to a terrible mantra.

  “Halleth ruta sot. Halleth ruta toff.” Vi attempted each healing spell. But it was a discipline she and Taavin had yet to study properly. She felt her skin knit and mend, already scarring in odd and uncomfortable ways with her clumsy attempts.

  “Fire below is sorted,” Fallor’s shout broke through her concentration. But Adela remained focused.

  She raised her cane once more, and Vi turned, running. She closed her eyes, seeking out the light that now seemed to be at the distant end of a tunnel—the light that had always burned so brightly for her was growing dim. One more time, Vi beseeched it.

  Come to me, one more time!

  She ran blindly into the railing. It knocked the wind from her and crushed Vi’s arms against the wound she’d been attempting to heal. One last, brilliant explosion of light and flame was all her body had to give. She would take them all with her, burn them alive so they would not hurt another member of her family—or any family—ever again.

  Vi tumbled forward into the air off the side of the boat. She went head first into the sea like a falling star, brilliant, before the dark waves crashed down over her.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Fallor, after her!” Adela’s shriek was barely a whisper over the crashing waves in Vi’s ears.

  Vi pushed against the waters, trying to swim. Everything hurt, everything felt heavy. Her heart, her mind, her body, even her magic was at its limit. She’d given everything and now was dried up. There was nothing left for her to give.

  She surfaced from the waves with a spout of air. There was the cry of a bird, loud and echoing overhead. Vi’s hand hung limply at her side, her mind filling with the thought of the dark waves around her, bright sea foam, and an angry dawn reflecting in the water.

  “D-D-Duroe,” she managed through chattering teeth. The water was frigid, but warming the further she got from the boat. “Watt…” One more, one more and then anchor the glyph. “Ivin.”

  Vi didn’t know if she was successful. But she felt the magic underneath her hand, tight in her grip, like a treasure she would never relinquish. Hopefully, it would shield her, and one of Taavin’s last lessons on Lightspinning hadn’t gone to waste.

  Darkness.

  The world was awash with darkness that smelled of salt and ash. She floated through it, adrift in a giant sea of impenetrable blackness. It was suffocating, heavy, drowning…

  Vi pushed upward toward the early sunlight, gasping in air, just as another wave crashed down on her, bringing darkness anew.

  She turned, belly up and barely breathing. The sea rolled and she rolled with it. Hazy images plunged into nothingness over and over, more times than she could count.

  Judgment. This was her judgment for trying to change a desolate future. This was her punishment for thinking she and her family might triumph despite all odds.

  The Mother watched her from above, threatening to burn her face where it protruded from the foamy sea. Vi pressed her eyes closed, unwilling to see the light once more. For the light had failed her. The light had not been enough in the one moment she’d needed it most. And now… now she waited for Adela to find her yet again. She awaited recapture and delivery to the elfin’ra.

  Yet it was not Adela who took Vi into her hands… but the same Goddess she believed had forsaken her.

  The roar of waves, the crash of her body against a rocky shore, the cool feeling of wet sand in her face—Vi forced her eyes open, blinking into the light. She couldn’t move, and everything ached. There was a bloated, heavy sensation about her body that Vi had never felt before. Water flowed up into her nostrils with every new crash of the waves at her feet, causing her to sputter and cough.

  Pushing herself upward, Vi made an attempt to stand—to merely crawl. But her hands, cut and torn from the glass she’d broken, slipped out from under her. She hadn’t made it very far, but she had managed to get her nose and mouth above the tide, and that was good enough for now.

  Darkness, once more.

  A soft grinding noise eventually stirred her. There had been nothing but the sound of wind, the cry of gulls, and the rushing of water for hours—days? It felt as if she had been washed upon the beaches of the hourglass of time, destined to slip through its eye again and again as an invisible hand flipped the device—resetting it every hour.

  The noise of grinding sand repeated, growing louder until it was close enough that Vi could recognize it as footsteps. Yet the moment she made the connection, the sound ceased. Prying her eyes open—breaking the thin crust of salt and grime that had nearly sealed them closed—Vi blinked into the late sunlight o
f the day.

  A pair of booted feet stood before her. They were the shoes of a traveler—worn and dusty with scratches marring the surface of the leather so soft, it pooled around the ankles.

  These were boots she knew.

  Vi twisted her head, feeling shells grind against her right ear as she followed the legs clad in cotton upward to where the wide hem of a coat covered from knees to chest. It was embellished in gold with seaming that would have looked near-regal if it didn’t also look positively ancient in its construction and care. Wiry bits of thread jutted from the fabric and patches helped keep the garment together.

  The man tilted his head. A messy mop of what she knew to be dark purple—not black—hair caught the dim morning light like coal picking up fire. He stared down at her with emerald eyes offset against ruddy skin Vi would’ve associated with a Westerner if she were still in the Solaris Empire.

  The Empire… Her mind curled sluggishly around the thought, clinging to it. Had she made it?

  “T-T-Tav—Where am I?” she wheezed through cracked lips, speaking to what could only be an exhaustion-fueled vision. Vi looked down at her hands, confirming there was no magic there summoning him. That meant…

  He crouched down, the better for Vi to see him clearly. There, the curved scar so familiar it might have graced her own cheek. She tried again to twist, but her side protested in sharp agony at the movement.

  “Is it really you?” she whispered. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be him, of all people.

  “It is really me,” he answered softly.

  He reached out, scooping her upward, pulling her soaked form to him.

  Vi allowed herself to curl against his chest, his arms locked around her. Taavin pressed a kiss into her forehead. Vi felt water on her cheeks, but she didn’t know if it was from the surf or tears. Likely both.

  “I have you,” Taavin murmured, rocking back and forth slightly. “Breathe, for just a moment.”

  Vi ran her hand along his embroidered coat. She knew there was much left to do. A mountainous, impossible task lay before them. She didn’t want to think of it now.

  “Come, let’s get you cleaned up.” Pulling her arm over his shoulders and hoisting, Taavin pulled Vi up alongside him like a limp puppet. The man was stronger than he looked, a sturdy force unwavering even with the slippery sand and her unstable footing.

  “Where are you taking me?” Vi coughed, saltwater and spittle coming up clotted with sand.

  “There’s a fisher’s hut just on the other side of this ridge,” he murmured softy. “We can stay there… long enough to see you mended.”

  Vi glanced at him from the corners of her eyes, studying his profile. She still couldn’t believe he was here, that she’d come this far, that she’d managed to actually find him. Or, perhaps more incredible, that he’d managed to somehow find her.

  The ridge of his nose was sharp, down-turning slightly at the tip. It was complimented by the sharp jutting of his chin that seemed equally pronounced when she took his almost hollow cheeks into account. Had he always been so gaunt? They were likely both worse for wear.

  “You did well.” Taavin stared straight ahead. “But things are only still beginning.”

  She had so many questions, so much she wanted to say and do now that he was here. So much had happened, how did she begin to tell him? But the only word that fell from her lips was, “Beginning?”

  “We’re running short on time, Vi. The end of the world is near, and we must be ready to meet it.”

  for every dream that failed

  to make room for the one that came true

  Chapter One

  Everything was a blur.

  Each memory merged into the next, a hazy mess of color and sound and not-quite-consciousness.

  She was on a ship of ice. Frost glittered through the dark memories, illuminating nothing but pain. An ocean of dark water enveloped her—nearly as cold as the vessel itself. She was lost in the vast sea, an invisible fragment among the waves, tossed between each swell, tumbled over reef and stone. There was the feeling of grit, rough against her…

  Sand.

  Breathing.

  Just… breathing. Air sputtering between gasping lips. Heaving as her body expelled the water to make room for every life-giving breath it fought for.

  Exhaustion.

  More darkness.

  Him.

  Two hands hoisted her up and liberated her from the soggy grave she had consigned herself to. Arms covered in a delicately embroidered coat that her fingers would know anywhere wrapped around her, sure and warm.

  A voice that resonated with her very soul.

  Her hair was smoothed away from her face. She was still damp, and felt perhaps this would be her existence from now until forever. Air sucked the moisture from her, setting her body to shivering. Her brow couldn’t dry; it was constantly slick with sweat.

  Fever raged through her. At least, she thought so. Maybe he told her so.

  Cold, hot, cold.

  Mumbled words, sparks of light, more darkness.

  Time persisted like this. For how long, Vi couldn’t quite say. She was alive, but hanging by determined, ragged threads and a body too stubborn to give in.

  She screamed herself hoarse as her wounds were ripped back open—something muttered about her clumsy healing needing to be “reset”. She gasped as agony ebbed and flowed and her tissue was mended anew. Salves were smeared on her and potions poured down her throat; she had no choice but to drink or drown.

  Every time her eyes opened, they stayed that way a little longer. Slow blinking seconds connected in her reforming consciousness.

  Wind rattled against the drawn shutters on the sole window of the hovel where he’d stashed her. There was a hearth at her right side, always burning. Too hot, or not warm enough, never right in the middle. But the flames were a familiar and welcome companion. They were the only thing that made sense to her.

  At her left was Taavin. He would curl up, leaning with his back against the door, light always surrounding him even when he looked as though he were sleeping.

  How was he here? And where exactly was here anyway?

  If she stretched far enough, she might be able to touch him. But Vi had neither the strength nor the energy to try.

  Sometimes, she would wake to find him fumbling around in a trunk, open like a clam against the wall opposite the fire. She would hear the sound of corks popping before bright herbaceous smells cut through the briny air.

  Other times, she opened her eyes and he was hovered over her, lips moving fast and soft. Most of the words she could identify if she thought hard enough—and thinking was very difficult. But a good many she couldn’t. So Vi didn’t expend too much effort on identifying which was which. She’d forget the next time her eyes opened anyway.

  Vi blinked into the twilight.

  This time was different than the others.

  Her mind was sharper—clearer. She was present in the moment and keenly aware of her own excruciating existence. Her thoughts were still jumbled, but now felt like pieces she could put her fingers on and begin to snap back together.

  Vi turned her head toward a soft clinking sound.

  “Taavin?” Her lips stretched painfully, and the iron taste of blood swelled where the delicate skin cracked.

  “Vi.” He turned sharply, nearly spilling what was in the rough-hewn cup cradled in his hands. Their eyes met, and Taavin scrambled over to her in clumsy haste.

  He was undeniably Taavin… Yet he looked so different than she remembered. Almost jarringly so. Enough that Vi had to blink, reminding herself that this was, indeed, the same man.

  His hair was matted with dirt and grime. Dark circles she’d never seen before shadowed his eyes. The usual vibrancy of his coat was gone, replaced with gray twilight and accented by the dying embers of the fire casting long shadows over them. The only things that had any brilliance to him were his eyes—ever shining—and the small circle of light spinning around his lef
t wrist. The glyph was drawn together so tightly that Vi couldn’t identify what it was for.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Like death, but slightly more animated.” Vi shifted onto her side, putting her weight on her left elbow and trying to push herself up. Every joint was stiff and aching. It felt like she hadn’t moved in years.

  “Don’t get up too quickly. ‘Animated death’ may be an apt description given how I found you and what I’ve had to do to try to piece you back together properly.” But Vi was determined, so Taavin helped her upright, situating her against the wall behind her. Vi knew the space had been narrow, but she hadn’t realized that the top of her head was nearly touching one wall and her toes the one opposite while lying down. “Here, drink this—it’ll help your body wake up. I’ve been keeping you in a sort of stasis to let your body focus on healing.”

  Vi accepted the cup from him, staring down at the muddy mixture within.

  “I promise it looks worse than it tastes.”

  She took a timid sip. It was thick and grassy, but warm on the way down—almost like liquor, but without the strong burn. Vi took another sip, replacing the salt musk of the shack with the bright tang of the drink. This was the earthy note she’d smelled earlier and Vi found it almost pleasant.

  “Do you remember everything? Remember me?” Taavin asked almost timidly. “Was your memory affected at all by the trauma?”

  “Yes.” Vi stared into the cup once more. “I mean, yes I remember everything—and you. No, my memory wasn’t affected.” The cup rested in her lap, over the rough-hewn blanket that covered her legs. Vi wiggled her toes. They didn’t feel like her own… nothing felt like hers. It was as if her soul had been placed into a completely new body. “I think so, at least…”

  Her voice faded to nothing. Memories stacked like building blocks around her, closing her in. Vi’s fingernails dug into the grooves of the clay cup; the craftsman’s mark still present in the indents of fingers fired into permanence. The dull ache in her chest assured Vi that this seemingly new body was, indeed, hers.