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

by Elise Kova

  “So I hear.”

  Taavin’s arm dropped to his side. “I’d imagine… What exactly have you heard?”

  “I’ve heard that the morphi have been sequestered—forced to hide behind the shift, to fight for their lives to have a mere place on this land.” Vi took a step forward. “I’ve heard how the Faithful will slaughter them just to make a point. I’ve heard of the brutality of the Lord of the Faithful—that his bloodlust is impossible to sate. I’ve heard he murders innocents on nothing more than superstitions regarding their magicks.” She was standing toe to toe with him, heart racing, struggling to keep her voice and her emotions in check. Yet when she spoke next, her voice had dropped to a whisper. “And I’ve heard that all of these atrocities come to pass at your command.”

  Taavin’s eyes searched her face as Vi searched his. She held her breath, waiting for a reaction of any kind. But he gave her none.

  “Tell me…” She reached up, grabbing Taavin’s coat. “Tell me they’re lying. Tell me the Faithful of Yargen aren’t butchers hiding under the skirts of their goddess, using fear to justify their wicked actions.”

  Taavin said nothing. He continued to stare with those terribly beautiful green eyes. Vi shook him, anger rising in her once more. She was helpless against its rolling tide.

  The darkness threatened to consume her whole. One more betrayal was all it would take, and she may never trust again.

  “Tell me it wasn’t you.” Sparks crackled around her fingers, singeing his once-bright coat. “Tell me it wasn’t you who ordered it!”

  “I wish I could.”

  Vi released him. She wasn’t sure if she pushed him or he stumbled back. But the net result was the same. Once more, they both stood against opposite walls in too-small space.

  “Tell me… the truth.” Vi forced out. “No lies, no half-truths.” She shook her head and cast a hand through the air, as if she could dispel the shadows he’d spun around her—the mystery that had made him so horribly alluring. “Tell me what you’ve done. Tell me everything, like I asked of you in the West… and tell me why I shouldn’t tell Sarphos to get the whole of the morphi army and kill you as he wanted to from the start.”

  “Other than the fact that if the morphi killed me, it truly would spell their demise?” Taavin said, painfully deadpan, worrying the bracelet around his wrist.

  “Do not deflect!” Vi pointed her finger at him, wishing she could pin him down. His words were slippery things. “What is your role in all of this?”

  Tell me you aren’t betraying me too, her mind screamed.

  Taavin took a deep breath, his eyes fluttering closed. “Everything I’ve said has been the truth. I was taken from my home as a child by Lord Ulvarth and the Faithful. They murdered my mother and burned everything she’d worked to create to the ground. I was troubled by visions—nightmares of you.”

  “This is not my fault,” Vi growled before he could continue. If he was about to blame his actions on her, he had another thing coming.

  “My actions are my own.” The man had an uncanny and uncomfortable ability to read her mind. “But you need to understand where I was in life: I was alone, sequestered, tormented… And I was a pawn for Ulvarth to consolidate power. The Lord of Swords is nothing without the Voice. He needed someone as a figurehead—someone he could manipulate into saying everything he wanted. Someone who would live in fear of him and never utter a word about the truth of his twisted directives.”

  “So you told him what he wanted to hear,” Vi concluded, all their past conversations falling into logical place.

  “He locked me away with the flame at the top of the Archives of Yargen, denied me food and drink. Told me I would receive nothing until I espoused the words of the goddess. At first, I lied, making things up for him.” Taavin’s words became hurried, almost crazed. “But he would say, ‘Taavin, you must have misheard. Listen again.’”

  It was Taavin’s turn to approach her. With every statement he drew nearer. Arms outstretched, as if begging her for something. But Vi wasn’t sure what, or if she had anything to give.

  “So I began repeating what he’d say to me—the things I knew, things he all but told me, he wanted. I became his parrot. If I knew he wanted a man condemned, or to march against a city, or to take over a celebration, I would say the words. He would have the Voice’s proclamations… and I would eat.”

  “And with your words, you knowingly condemned innocent people to die.” Vi stared up at him, their noses nearly touching.

  “If that’s what it took to survive.”

  “How many people saw you say these lies? Was it only Ulvarth? Or did the Swords hear as well? Did the citizens?”

  “I did what I had to do to survive. But I took no joy in it. I didn’t want to. I knew what I was doing and I loathed myself for it. But I was a captive; I was helpless.” Taavin shook his head, running his hands through his hair. When he looked back to her, his eyes were haunted and far more sunken than they’d been just moments ago. This was the shadowed edge of his personality that he’d always kept hidden just below his hopeful, driven exterior. “What would you have done? Curled up and died?”

  “I wouldn’t have told a power-hungry lunatic to murder innocent people for no reason!” Her voice rose now and Vi shoved him away. Taavin stumbled, reaching out to the cave wall for support. She wouldn’t have him looking down at her. “If I had to die to spare them, I would’ve.”

  “It’s easy for you to say that here, now… but not when hunger is gnawing at you. Not when death is staring you down. You don’t know what you’d do then.”

  “I do know what I’d do. Because I’ve seen death. I’ve seen it on my land, in my people, and in visions of the world’s end that haunt me even still. I’ve seen it in the faces that tried to kill me as I risked my life every step to get here.” Her voice had gone low. “And I risked it all, not for me, not for you, but for this world. For my family. So don’t you dare tell me I wouldn’t die for a cause greater than myself.”

  “I never wanted to hurt anyone.” He was pleading now. “I didn’t—”

  “Just because you didn’t wield the sword, doesn’t mean your hands are clean of blood.”

  “Had I stopped him then, he would’ve let me die and found another babe to rip from their home! The Voice is reborn, Vi. Time and again. So even if I had died, it wouldn’t have changed anything.”

  His eyes were ablaze and, for the first time, Vi’s mind and mouth fell silent.

  “If I hadn’t done as Ulvarth asked, if I let myself die, I couldn’t have stopped the Swords of Light when I was able. I wouldn’t have been able to hear Yargen’s words when they came in earnest. I wouldn’t have been able to do the best I could from my powerless position for the people of Meru—all of them. I wouldn’t have been able to help guide you here and begin to make sense of this.” Taavin thrust his index finger at the watch and Vi felt it press painfully against her breastbone. “I wouldn’t have had the ability to help stop the world’s end. He would’ve let me die, done his will anyway for a few years, claiming he was acting on my last words as the Voice, and then placed another helpless child right back in the position I was in.”

  Vi looked from the watch to Taavin. Every emotion ravaged her thoughts. There was sorrow for him, frustration, hurt, confusion. He was in more pain than she could imagine—the agony she’d always somehow known was there finally laid bare—and seeing the hurt unleashed only sparked her own profound sense of suffering.

  Above it all, anger thrummed within her. So much that her spark had taken residence in the hole Jayme had left in her chest. Pressing her eyes shut, Vi tried to find sense in the darkness. But there was none to be had, and she was forced to look once more at Taavin.

  “I trusted you,” she whispered.

  “As I did you. I left Risen for you. I told you my story. Forgive me for sparing myself the trauma of sharing the more agonizing details of my captivity.”

  “How can I believe anything else you’l
l say? How can I trust you’re not keeping something else from me?” Her heart was racing. They were at the point of breaking, she could see it. Yet she couldn’t stop herself.

  “How can I put my faith in you when you judge me for actions taken when I was in captivity?” he seethed back. “I never meant to break your trust, Vi. But know you are dangerously close to breaking mine.”

  “Maybe that’s just what happens to the people we love.” Her mind returned to one of the last thoughts she’d had when she’d seen him previously. “Maybe we’re meant to hurt and be hurt. Maybe we’re just meant to burn.”

  Vi took a small step away from him. Taavin caught her wrist. Sparks crackled, bright yellow, tangled with a hazy blue glow that Vi knew as the hallmark of his magic—of Yargen’s power.

  “Fine,” he breathed. “If we’re meant to burn, then we burn together.”

  They were both breathing heavily. His exhales were her inhales, until the air between them was thin and she felt dizzy. Vi stared up at his emerald eyes long enough to watch their crystalline depths go hazy. “Taa—”

  His hand was in the back of her hair, grabbing, pulling. His free arm wrapped around her, holding her to him. Vi’s eyes barely had time to close before his mouth crashed against hers.

  Taavin’s teeth scraped against her lips and Vi parted them with a soft groan, allowing him entry. The rock wall behind her dug into her back. She managed to squeeze her hands between them. Her fingers fought their way up his chest, to his face, tugging him closer.

  Sunlight… Even in the darkness, he smelled of sunlight. He smelled of fields warmed in the afternoon, of the heat on fresh laundry pulled inside on a hot day, of joy and laughter over a cool drink in the balmy hours after dusk.

  He shifted his legs and Vi’s hips pressed forward slightly, their bodies completely flush. His fingers gripped her hard enough that they might leave bruises. Vi almost hoped they did. She needed proof this moment was real. She wanted something to look at later and remind herself it wasn’t just a fleeting daydream.

  Taavin finally pulled away a fraction, breathless, their noses rubbing and foreheads nearly touching.

  “Perhaps you’re right about us burning together, because only you can set me on fire.” Vi leaned forward, catching his mouth for several more moments. Taavin kissed her slowly this time, almost sweetly, as if he was savoring every taste. As if they both somehow knew that these desperate, fleeting moments were the best they would have.

  “Vi.” Her name was husky on his swollen lips. “I’ve never had much… but this is all I have now. This whole world may need you and not know it, but no one needs you more than I do, I promise you that. I will make mistakes. But I need you to believe in me, trust me.” His thumb caressed her cheek as his eyes locked with hers. Gut-wrenching pain filled her with that gaze. He was asking for something she didn’t know if she could give any longer. “I need you to accept that this, however perfect it can feel, isn’t. I want you to stay with me despite that fact. Stay with me because it is messy, and raw, and something we need but may also be terrified to want.”

  She pressed her eyes closed. Vi took a quivering breath. Say yes. Just say yes. She tried to will the word to her lips.

  What would happen if she gave herself to him even more than she already had, and then he betrayed her? Would there be anything left unbroken in her after something like that?

  “Taavin,” her voice was raspy and thin, barely forced through a thick throat. “What if I can’t?”

  “Good sense would have me give up on you… But when it comes to you, Vi, I seem to be lacking in good sense.”

  Vi tightened her arms around his neck and shoulders. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “As am I,” he murmured.

  “Sarphos will be back soon and I have so much to tell you. So much we should discuss… but all I want to do is hold you.” Vi let out a small, bitter laugh. There was so much to say. She had yet to tell him of the scythe, of Jayme, of Adela. There would never be enough time for all the words unspoken between them.

  “Then hold me, and let the world wait.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Eventually, King Noct’s hospitality would run out. Everything had its limits. And before that happened, Vi wanted to be as prepared as possible to start on the road again.

  But with so much to do, she wasn’t sure where to start.

  Vi opened a heavy wooden door to a library, tucked away in a quiet corner of the palace. Cool air rushed to greet her, carrying the scent of stale leather and parchment. The atmosphere was that of opening a time capsule, the room still and coated in a thick layer of dust.

  The only evidence that anyone had used this room recently was an open journal sitting out on the table, two empty inkwells and one still full laid out next to it.

  The private library of the royal family was small, but tall, and every bookcase that lined its walls was packed. It was more than enough information to keep herself busy yesterday and today… perhaps tomorrow. But Taavin was getting stronger, and so was she. And that meant they needed to continue onward.

  Her father was out there, and the longer she dallied, the longer he suffered.

  Vi ran her fingertips absentmindedly along the spines of the books, working her way toward the back corner where she’d left off last night. Selecting a narrow, wide book, Vi lifted it off the shelf and brought it over to her table. She flipped through the maps within, landing on the page she’d been working from yesterday.

  Settling into her spot at the table, Vi got to work.

  “You really have a thing for maps, huh?” Arwin’s voice startled her. Vi had filled five pages in the journal and half the inkwell was gone, so she must’ve been working for at least two hours. “You burned the midnight oil here last night, and were back at it before breakfast.”

  “I do love maps.” Vi looked back down at her transcriptions. She’d been sketching from memory the map Sehra had shown her, the maps she’d grown up with on the Dark Isle. Now, she was making slow work of transcribing the coastlines of Meru—comparing them to what she knew, comparing them to the morphi’s records of maps through the ages.

  Two pages earlier in the journal, she’d been working on a route to Adela’s Isle of Frost.

  “Here, breakfast.” Arwin held out a sandwich as she sat across the table from her. Vi took a generous bite, ignoring the smear of ink her fingertips left on the bread’s hard crust.

  “Thanks,” Vi mumbled over the food, looking back at her work.

  “Why do you like maps so much?”

  Slowly, Vi looked up. The question was calm, genuine. There wasn’t even a hint of a jab. So Vi answered an honest question honestly.

  “I told you, I grew up captive.”

  “You said you were sent to the northernmost territory of your Empire, for politics and prophecy. Nothing about being captive.”

  “Well, it effectively made me a captive.” Vi glanced up again from her journal, seeing pity in Arwin’s eyes. She laughed softly, shaking her head. “It wasn’t that bad. I lived a fairly good life…” Her thoughts went to Taavin’s imprisonment. Yes, her time in the North could’ve been much worse. “But maps were my window to the world, how I made sense of all the space spreading out around me that I never thought I’d get to see.”

  “I see,” Arwin murmured.

  “What about you?” Vi dared to ask. “What are you interested in?”

  “Mostly combat.”

  “Just combat? Nothing else?” Vi knew many soldiers who delighted in honing their skills. But underneath the armor, they were still people. They had passions and hobbies.

  “Sometimes I sing.” Then, as if suddenly regretting the burst of honesty, Arwin stood quickly. “But speaking of combat, I should get back to training.” She nearly bolted for the door, catching herself on its frame and turning back to Vi. “So should you… I’m sure you’ll be on your way toward the end of the world soon enough, and you’re not going to kill any evil gods with your cu
rrent scythe skills.”

  Before Vi could reply, Arwin left.

  She spent a few more hours pouring through the maps, working as quickly as possible to get as much information down as she could from the records of the Twilight Kingdom. There was a wealth of information she’d never be able to comb through. As Vi returned the last book to the shelf with a sigh, she scanned the room one more time.

  What if, somewhere in here, was information on the scythe? Its history? The history of all the mysterious crystal weapons?

  She could spend months looking through every book, searching for information that may well not be there—that likely wasn’t there. Arwin was right, she didn’t have much time, and she had to make the most of what she had. So, clutching the journal to her chest, Vi left the library behind and made for the training room.

  “I was wondering how long you’d keep me waiting.” Arwin’s brow was slick with sweat when Vi entered. A spear in her hand today.

  “Thanks for waiting at all.” Vi adjusted her grip on the scythe as she crossed over. Magic flowed through her, bright and immeasurably powerful.

  “You need me.” Arwin shrugged.

  “I do.” In multiple ways, Vi realized. A plan had been forming in the back of her mind while she had been working on routes to the Isle of Frost.

  Taavin had said there was a shift protecting the Isle of Frost, like that surrounding the Twilight Kingdom. Originally, Vi had thought to try to get Sarphos to come with them. But perhaps Vi could convince Arwin to come along to continue her training with the scythe. It was another avenue to pursue and seemed more likely than convincing the soft Sarphos to venture out on a dangerous journey. Vi wasn’t about to leave their access to Adela’s stronghold to chance.

  Vi considered the best next steps as they traded blow for blow in the sparring ring.

  “Remember, distance.” Arwin knocked the pole of her weapon with Vi’s. “You have to manage the distance with that thing.” Vi adjusted her feet, and Arwin held up her spear again. “Dodge and slash—catch my hip with the curved part of that weapon and pull.”