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

by Elise Kova

  “Narro h—” the woman began.

  “Loft dorh,” Taavin said, eyes focused on the woman.

  Vi turned in the rowboat, careful not to knock it over or rock it so much that Taavin lost his focus. Arwin was on deck pulling her spear from the dying man. Before she could thrust it through the woman, Vi uttered, “Juth calt.”

  With that, Taavin’s magic was broken, and the woman fell limply to the deck. Arwin stood at the railing, looking down at them, regarding them both warily. Vi locked eyes with her, as if in warning.

  As if to say, Yes, beyond the Twilight Forest we are as deadly as you feared.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Throw down the lines,” Vi called up to Arwin as they positioned the rowboat under two arm-like pulleys at the stern. “I’ll tie them off to the boat and you can hoist.”

  Arwin walked over to the low deck rail, looking down at them. She wore a stony expression that guarded her innermost thoughts. Instinct would have Vi just as guarded, but she kept her face calm, relaxed. She didn’t want to risk escalating tensions in an already-tense situation.

  Without a word, Arwin threw the ropes down and Vi caught them, quickly fastening them off to either end of the dinghy. “Stay here,” she murmured to Taavin, pulling off her scythe and setting it in the boat.

  Grabbing one of the ropes, Vi hoisted herself upward with a small jump that set the dinghy to rocking. Kicking out her feet, Vi landed them on the side of the larger vessel. One hand over the other, one foot then the next, Vi walked up the side of the ship with the help of the rope.

  “What was that for?” Arwin asked.

  “Now you don’t have to pull alone.” Vi rubbed her palms on her thighs, working out the aches in her fingers.

  “That was unnecessary. I could’ve done it on my own.”

  “Or you could accept help and make it easier.” Vi moved to one of the pulleys, making sure everything was looped through correctly. Unsurprisingly, the riggings seemed to be in top shape, ready to go at a moment’s notice.

  “All right, let’s get our dead weight aboard.”

  They pulled together until the small boat was up at deck level, tied off the ropes to secure the dinghy in place, then Vi reached out a hand for Taavin. He wasn’t too proud to take it, allowing her to help him over the railing and onto the deck. Vi reached in after him, retrieving her scythe and slinging it back over her shoulders. She was finding the longer she carried it, the less she liked being without it.

  “You’re fairly confident on a boat,” he observed.

  “This is the third I’ve been on.” Vi shrugged. She had a strong suspicion that neither Arwin nor Taavin had been on a ship. Maybe Taavin. But if he had been, it wasn’t in any kind of sailing capacity.

  Vi knelt down, taking the earrings from both of the pirate’s ears. They were identical to Charlie’s, further confirming her suspicion that this was the token.

  “Are those some kind of trophy?” Arwin asked.

  “No, they’re communication tokens to Adela,” Vi pocketed them. “They could be useful… or perhaps not. Either way, I’d rather keep them than lose them to the sharks. Now, a little help please?”

  Taavin and Arwin both helped Vi push the bodies to the railing, twisting them until they slipped through the wide gaps and off the sides of the boat. Vi fetched a bucket attached to a long rope, drawing up seawater and splashing it across the deck twice to remove some of the man’s blood. There was still a long red streak on the main deck, but it was clean enough. Spending too long cleaning a pirate ship felt like an exercise in futility.

  “All right.” Vi wiped her hand across her brow, taking stock of the setting sun. It was little more than a sliver on the horizon now. Was it just her imagination, or was it setting earlier than normal? “We should set sail before anyone can find the bodies. I can imagine there’s at least a few in Toris who will be sympathetic to Fallor and Adela’s men.”

  “Or who will at least want Adela’s gratitude and bounty for turning over the people who killed them.” Taavin leaned against the railing, a few steps away from the red smears.

  “Taavin and I will give the ship a quick once-over and see the status of things. Arwin, will you fly back and gather up our supplies?” When the woman didn’t immediately respond, Vi turned to face her. She looked back at the coastline with a conflicted expression. “Ar—”

  “I heard you.” The woman leapt into the air, soaring upward and back toward the cliffs where she’d stashed their bags.

  “What’s her problem?” Taavin muttered.

  “She got what she wanted, and doesn’t know how to feel about it,” Vi answered easily, beginning a quick inspection of their new vessel.

  The ship was fairly simple, one mainmast and a foremast. The rigging she’d already used on the davits was some of the most complicated of all the ropes. There was a tiny cabin that was half in the hull and half beneath a shallow quarterdeck. A break in the smooth lines of the deck toward the bow betrayed a storage area Vi inspected immediately, confirming rations within.

  “You think she regrets killing Fallor?” Taavin followed behind her.

  “Regrets? No.” Vi shook her head. Thinking of Arwin right now felt like looking into a mirror that reflected what was inside, rather than out. Vi could recognize emotions and feelings—all the ones she didn’t want to see. “But I don’t think it’s so black and white. Fallor betrayed her, yes. But she also loved him, once. Those feelings were real to her before the discovery that they hadn’t mattered to him.”

  “This isn’t Jayme,” Taavin whispered gently. Vi slowly lowered the storage hatch and turned, looking up at him from her crouched position. “Arwin has known who Fallor was for a long time.”

  “Some emotions are as sharp as knives that don’t dull or rust with time.” Vi stood, looking out over the water and seeing the dark bird gliding on the ocean breezes. “Even if you’re right, after dreaming of his death for so long… how would it feel to actually get it? To have it be so easy?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Me neither.”

  Jayme’s death had been swift and sudden, and perhaps easier. Vi didn’t have to live with the knowledge that the woman who had wronged her was still out there breathing. The chapter was closed, and while she still carried the wounds of it, she could try to move forward.

  Arwin had been in stasis for years. Vi could only imagine how she must be feeling now.

  The woman in question landed lightly on the deck, a pack over her back and Vi’s bag strapped across her chest. She tossed them haphazardly into the cabin, reporting, “No problems with them.”

  “Arwin.”

  “What is it, princess?” Arwin sighed, leaning her staff against the entrance to the cabin. There was no door, merely a curtain stretched across the opening to keep out the night’s chill and salt spray. She looked at Vi warily and, for a long moment, they merely held each other’s gaze.

  Vi didn’t know what she’d intended to say. Had she wanted to tell Arwin that she understood in some way? Did she want to say it was okay to feel whatever it was she was feeling?

  “Thank you for your help.” In the end, Vi couldn’t pry. Just as she didn’t want anyone to pry about Jayme, she wouldn’t inflict that on Arwin.

  Rather than retorting back with something about having no other choice, or begrudging them both, Arwin gave a grunt in acknowledgement. That was the best Vi could hope for, and she let the matter drop.

  “Taavin, how much do you know about rigging?” It was past time for them to be on their way.

  “I grew up in the Archives of Yargen and spent most of my time making use of the fact. I may not have had a chance to apply knowledge very often, but I certainly collected it.”

  “Good, let’s give you a chance to practice, then. You and Arwin will help get the sails ready while I plan a headway.” Vi started for her satchel in the cabin, retrieving her journal and a compass. She didn’t even make it back out before they were bickering. />
  “I wouldn’t untie that.”

  “You said to untie this.”

  “No, untie this one.” Taavin tapped on a rope knotted to a peg. “Not that one.”

  “Well you should be more clear.”

  “I’m being perfectly clear.”

  Vi ignored them, starting up to the quarterdeck. Consulting her maps and the compass, she quickly decided on the best headway. “Lower the sails. Taavin, as we sail out, please hide the ship.”

  “Why?” Arwin asked.

  “I don’t want anyone from Toris seeing us leave.” She didn’t want to give Adela any warning that they were coming. Though, despite her best efforts, Vi fully expected the woman to know. She was far too cunning not to. Vi was beginning to doubt that anything happened on the seas without Adela somehow knowing.

  The wind hit the sails and Arwin finished tying them off as Taavin intoned, “Durroe watt radia.”

  Light swirled out from him in glyphs that slowly wrapped up the whole vessel. They spun slowly over the deck, cutting through the walls of the vessel harmlessly. Magic settled on every surface with a dull shine.

  Vi adjusted the tiller, checking her compass as the ship began to turn.

  Arwin made a noise of disgust. “Even your magic feels slimy.”

  “Slimy?” Taavin asked. Vi was genuinely curious as well. Could Arwin detect a tangible quality to Taavin’s magic, or was this just another opportunity for her to make a jab at the Faithful?

  “It slithers, feels like wet seaweed over bare skin.”

  “Your magic feels different for us, too,” Vi spoke before Taavin could, stealing Arwin’s attention.

  “It does?”

  “I wouldn’t say slimy though… uneasy, perhaps.”

  “Yet another reason why the morphi are hated without cause.”

  “Doesn’t that go both ways?” Vi looked down at the woman on the main deck. “I mean… if you describe Lightspinning as slimy… doesn’t that also sow the seeds of dislike?”

  “Don’t talk like you know things, Dark Isle dweller,” Arwin grumbled.

  Vi chuckled softly and turned her eyes back to the horizon. There was the same empty feeling she’d known all too well lingering between the spaces of Arwin’s words—the feeling of not belonging. She hadn’t belonged anywhere in her Empire, now she didn’t belong with those of Meru. Arwin was right: she didn’t understand because she wasn’t a part of this world.

  But would she ever have the chance to be a part of anywhere?

  “Ignore her,” Taavin said, placing a hand on Vi’s shoulder. She didn’t realize he’d even walked over, a testament to how lost in thought she’d been. “Do you have a headway?”

  Vi nodded.

  “How long until we arrive?”

  “Depending on the wind… Perhaps two days? Three at most?”

  “I’ll know when we near the shift that surrounds the isle,” Arwin declared with a determined stare over the bow of the boat. “I’ll feel it.”

  “That’s helpful, then.” Vi looked back to shore. The land had become a narrow strip of black in the darkening night. The vessel was, indeed, a fast one.

  “If we have a couple days, let’s sleep in turns and get decent rest so we’re ready,” Arwin suggested, starting up the quarterdeck. “I’ll take the first.” Coupled with her thoughtful expression, the offer sounded almost like an apology for her earlier remarks.

  “All right.” Vi released the wheel and passed the compass to Arwin. “Head due southeast. We won’t start cutting south until we get to the Diamond Sands isles.”

  “Simple enough.” Arwin said. “You two get some rest.”

  Taavin paused, his gaze lingering on Arwin. Vi couldn’t tell if the woman was choosing to ignore his hesitation, or just hadn’t noticed. Not wanting to risk either, she tugged lightly on Taavin’s sleeve.

  “Come on, she’s right. We should catch some shut eye.”

  He followed her down into the cramped cabin, crouching through the curtained opening. Vi pushed aside the heavy tarp, hooking it on a peg.

  “Leave it,” Vi requested as Taavin went to swing the tarp back down into place. “I’d rather it be open.”

  “Are you sure? The moon is full tonight—it may be quite bright.”

  “I’ll sleep better if I don’t feel like I’m trapped.” Vi settled her scythe on the floor between the two hanging cots on either side of the narrow cabin.

  “Trapped… like on Adela’s vessel?”

  She paused for a breath, then sat heavily. Vi rubbed her eyes. At every turn of her journey, no matter how much rest she managed to get at the end of the one previous, she somehow managed to feel even more exhausted.

  “Yes,” Vi said finally. “The idea of being tossed around in the hull of a ship again, confined, is one of the last things I think I could tolerate right now.” In truth, there were a lot of things her patience was running thin on. This was just at the top of the list based on circumstance.

  “Then we’ll keep it open.” Taavin took the bed across from her, laying down as she did.

  Vi stared out the opening, the night sky barely visible over the rocking bow. Above her, Arwin stood, alone with her thoughts—and the knowledge of what she’d finally done to the person who’d harmed her.

  Without warning, her chest was burning—brighter and hotter with every breath. She tried to slow her breathing, to stave off whatever was rising within her. But it was hopeless.

  “Taavin,” Vi croaked. “Are you still awake?”

  “Of course,” he whispered back. “What is it?”

  “I…” Words escaped her. In the darkness, the burning of her chest flushed her cheeks and pricked at her eyes. All she wanted was comfort. Just the slightest bit of comfort. Why was that so hard to ask for? The longer the world forced her to be strong, the harder it was to accept weakness of any kind.

  “Vi?”

  “Can I sleep with you?” she forced out, finally.

  Taavin shifted to face her, eyes shining in the darkness. Vi’s shone as well, but for a different reason. He pressed his back against the wall and lifted an arm.

  Slowly, heart racing, Vi moved from her bed to his.

  The cots were far too small for two people. Vi felt like half of her was hanging awkwardly over the side of the bed, which meant Taavin undoubtedly had no room for his considerable height. Even if she’d wanted to be modest, there was no room to be.

  Vi’s eyes fluttered closed. No, she didn’t care about modesty. He was warm. His arm snaked around her waist, hips twisting, legs intertwining… Taavin’s whole body fit flush against her, as though it were made to be there. His comfort was enough to soothe the burning of her chest and racing of her mind.

  “I find myself thinking, more and more, that I am cursed.” Her fingers laced with his.

  “You are not cursed, you are chosen.” Taavin held her tighter.

  “Are they really so different?” Being chosen had led her down a path she had never wanted to walk—a path laid well before her birth. “If I try, I can tie everything together. My mother’s illness, my father’s plight… It all leads back to the Crystal Caverns, Raspian’s return. It’s all connected. Were they being punished for me?”

  “I can’t claim to know the will of Yargen. None of us can.”

  Vi closed her eyes, shutting out the world. “What if it’s all my fault? What if they suffered because they had to be the parents of the Champion?”

  “Or what if everything was merely chance? Or what if their actions were what made you, out of everyone, the Champion?” His voice was low and soft, whispering across the shell of her ear. “I don’t know what the truth is. I don’t know if it lies here.” His hand freed itself to rest on the watch around her neck. “I don’t know if it’s in the scythe. I don’t know if there’s a greater meaning to any of it.”

  “That’s hopeful,” Vi said sarcastically.

  “I won’t lie to you.” The words sent chills down her spine. “I can’t promis
e your mother will live, or your father will be saved. I can’t assure that you will find your way back to your family and homeland, and selfishly… selfishly I…”

  “You what?” she probed when he hadn’t continued the thought after several breaths.

  “Perhaps, selfishly, I don’t want to see you go.”

  A sad smile crossed her lips.

  Romulin had accused her of deserting her post. But everything Vi had done had been for her Empire and for the greater good of the world itself. If anything could inspire her to act selfishly, it would be Taavin. Perhaps, after all she’d been through, she wanted to be selfish, too.

  “But…” Taavin continued, finally. Sorrow filled his voice, matching the sorrow that was beginning to fill her chest, extinguishing the burning fears that had risen there earlier. “I can guarantee one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Should you want it… allow my arms to be your home. Here is home. Because, as I told you once, here is where you are safe.”

  The last holdouts of her stress and tension vanished. Vi sank further into his embrace, and his arm tightened around her waist, pulling her to him. There wasn’t a part of her that wasn’t flush against him, and Vi savored every bit of warmth he had, wrapping it around her like a blanket.

  Despite feeling the most relaxed she’d been in some time, Vi disrupted the comfortable position they’d found to turn to face him. He didn’t seem surprised; a small smile played on his mouth, and his eyelids were heavy but not with slumber. Her arms were tucked between them, fingertips on both of his cheeks. Vi looked from his lips to his eyes.

  This was not the man she’d kissed in Solaris. She was not the woman who had seized a moment in a tent for fleeting joy. She saw him for who he was—tortured and hopeful. A man who had done wretched and wonderful things alike. And she was no different.

  Imperfection fit them both well. Maybe life had carved enough parts out of each of them that they needed each other to feel whole.

  She leaned forward, and Taavin moved to meet her. His breath was hot on her cheeks, lips soft under hers. He kissed her tenderly, almost timidly. Vi pressed forward and Taavin’s arms tightened around her, drawing her close. A hand knotted in her hair. A sigh escaped from her lips between slow, languid, sensual motions that ignited something completely new.