Vortex Visions: Air Awakens: Vortex Chronicles

by Kova, Elise

  “Lovely,” Vi muttered. That explained the lightning Andru spoke of seeing before the man vanished. “There’s something else.”

  “What?”

  “He said he wanted ‘the champion’s blood for Lord Raspian.’ What does that mean?”

  Taavin stood and began to pace. The magic trailed through the air behind him, as though his very essence was unraveling. Vi’s technique had improved with his tutelage, but she was struggling to catch up.

  “Can you hold more still, please?” she asked. He stopped abruptly but did not face her. “Taavin, I need to know what I’m up against.”

  “The ritual you saw, with the man of red lightning, do you remember?”

  How could she forget? “Yes.”

  “To perform that ritual, to bring back Lord Raspian to walk along this mortal plane, they need a sacrifice of Yargen.”

  “How do they get the sacrifice of a goddess?” Vi asked slowly. Suspicions were dawning on her even as she asked, but she wanted to leave no room for error.

  “Ashes, from the flame if it is snuffed. The blood of the voice… or the champion.” His eyes fell heavily on her. Vi swallowed hard. It was as if his words alone reignited pain in her ailing body.

  “That’s why, in my vision… the body on the altar in the bag…”

  It was one of them. One of them had been gutted, bagged, and laid across an altar to resurrect an ancient evil.

  “You must be careful, more than ever, Vi. Yes, in the vision there was a whole body and that would be the most… effective way.” He grimaced at the word effective. “But given the strength they’re already displaying, I have no doubt that all they need is blood from one of us to pull off the ritual.”

  “Should I start telling Ginger to burn my clerical rags?” Vi didn’t want to begin keeping track of everywhere she spilled a drop of blood.

  “No… It needs to be fresh blood spilled at the sacred site. Or blood captured by one of their ritual daggers so that it is kept in a specific stasis to be brought back for their ritual.”

  “That explains the dagger he was holding,” Vi murmured, remembering the strange-looking weapon the man kept slashing at her with.

  “They shouldn’t even be able to create those weapons. It takes great power to craft them, ready them for collection of blood, and then keep the blood viable for ritual.” Taavin shook his head grimly. “Yet another sign of how Raspian’s power is growing while Yargen’s dims.”

  “Dimming… The traveler said the flame will be fueled again, didn’t she? That the champion holds the key.” Taavin gave a small nod. “Taavin… I don’t know anything about your flame. Even if I wanted to rekindle it… I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

  “And that is what I hope the apexes of fate will show us.”

  “Do you have any new leads?”

  “None that I haven’t already told you.” He sighed.

  “The throne room… the dark room… and a temple with eye-owe?” Vi recalled.

  “Just so. Do you have any new leads on them?” he asked hopefully.

  “Unfortunately not…” Vi admitted. “Eye-owe keeps sticking with me, but I haven’t been able to place it. I’m sorry. I’ll do my best to find it, though.”

  Vi looked down at her hands: one rested in her lap, supporting the glyph, and the other rested at her side. A shimmering hand interrupted her thoughts. Delicate fingers rested on hers. Vi couldn’t tell if her mind filled in the sensation she expected, or if he truly felt warm.

  “You must be careful in your search, Vi. More than ever. The elfin’ra and their dark arts were locked away, but the barrier keeping them in exile vanished when the seal on Raspian’s tomb was broken.” Her eyes drifted up the embroidered sleeve of his coat to his face. “I am protected in Risen. I am the most guarded man on Meru in a city surrounded by a barrier of its own that’s directly connected to the flame itself.” Taavin leaned forward slightly, and Vi wondered if she just imagined it. His voice was deep, pained. “But you are an easy target—and they will continue to come for you.”

  Vi felt fear rising within her but forced herself to swallow it down. Jax had always told her she would be a target for enemies of Solaris. This was no different. She had been raised for this.

  “Teach me how to protect myself,” Vi demanded. “Teach me beyond anchoring the glyphs and basic principles. I want to use Lightspinning to fight.” For a brief second, she was afraid he would reject her.

  “I shall do my best to make myself available at every moment to be your tutor.”

  Vi let out a small sigh of relief, leaning back into her pillows but making no motion to pull her hands from under his silhouette of light. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He glanced sideways. Then, speaking mostly to himself, said, “Here I am, willingly seeking you out after you’ve haunted me my whole life… I feel I should hate you for entrapping me once more.”

  “Do you?”

  “No… The only scrap of hatred I can find in me now is for the elfin’ra who harmed you.”

  “Then what do you feel about me?” The question brought his eyes back to her. Taavin stared for a long moment and Vi held his gaze. Whatever he said would be fine. Her chest tightened. Whatever he said next wouldn’t change anything for her—not their pursuit of the apexes, not his tutelage, not her heart.

  “I don’t know,” he whispered.

  “Good.” Vi’s voice had gone equally soft. “That makes two of us then.”

  He finally pulled his gaze from hers and Vi felt like a trance had been broken. Taavin looked down at the magic spinning around her fingers. She’d all but forgotten she was maintaining narro hath still. Now she stared into it, watching it curve and double-back on itself before spinning outward again.

  “You should let the magic go, so you can recover.”

  “Or you can keep me company until I fall asleep.” Vi shifted farther back into her pillows. The magic had been thin to begin with. Now it was nearly exhausted. It wouldn’t be long until he was pulled from her again.

  “That, I suppose I can do. I’m beginning to enjoy having some company in my solitary life. Even if it comes from the woman I can’t escape.”

  “Maybe…” Vi whispered, “I’m glad you can’t escape me.”

  Taavin gave her a small smile, one Vi returned. They stayed just as they were, his ghostly hand on hers. Looking at nothing, looking at everything, until Vi could no longer sustain the magic and she drifted quietly off into sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Even though Vi was only in bed on cleric’s orders for three days, her tutors decided they did not want to “push her” right away.

  A part of her was offended at the notion, but a larger part was relieved.

  There was work to do.

  “The more words you add, the more detailed the spell and its outcome,” Taavin explained, perched on what had become his spot at the edge of her bed.

  “The book outlines two words—the main and subordinate.” Vi had one of the drawers of her dresser opened. Sehra’s book was perched inside, the inner lip of the drawer holding open the page so her hands were free. “That’s how it breaks up the chapters at least… So there’s narro, and then hath is a sub-word underneath it.”

  “Yes, that’s correct. There’s a structure to the chants… The first word of every chant is the high-level discipline you’re invoking.” Taavin held up a finger.

  “Such as healing, or deception, or destruction…” Vi said, to make sure she was following along.

  “Just so. The second word is the classification within that discipline.” He held up two fingers now. “Most chants will have at least two words. But sometimes there’s a third—the clarification.”

  Vi lifted the book, flipping through the pages. She was becoming more familiar with the glyphs, her mind more accustomed to reading them. “I don’t see—”

  “They’re there, likely not marked. Let me see.” Taavin stood and looked down over her shoulder. �
��Go to narro… flip the page, again, again—no wait, you’ve gone too far, back one.” Sometimes, it was a pain to be his hands in the physical world. “There—loreth.”

  “Loreth,” Vi repeated, allowing the new word to settle on her. “To imprint a communication mark.”

  “Like this.” Taavin pointed to the watch around her neck. Vi looked down. She was so familiar now with the hazy mark that hovered above it whenever she spoke to him that it barely registered any longer. “That was created with loreth; it is my unique communication mark.”

  “So that’s why I can summon you, but you can’t summon me.”

  “Unless you’re at an apex.” He took a step away and Vi fought a chill. She was growing familiar with how his magic registered as warmth. Especially when he was near.

  “Right…” Their means of communication remained a noru in the room. Neither of them could offer an acceptable explanation for how she came to be in possession of his token. To some extent, Vi didn’t want to try to figure it out. As curious as she was, doing so would remove the mystery—the magic—of it all.

  “So you have your first high-level discipline word, then the secondary, then the clarification,” Taavin continued.

  “Would you ever have two clarifications?”

  He shook his head. “At that point, the magic is shaped by intent. Take halleth, for example.” Halleth, to heal, Vi filled in mentally. “Ruta is the sub-discipline of halleth for mending the flesh. But then there are clarifications beyond that—sot for inner wounds, and toff for outer. Let’s say I were to heal that crooked bit in your nose that hasn’t quite set right.”

  “There is no crooked bit in my nose.” Vi’s hand flew up to her face, gently feeling the bridge of her nose.

  “Don’t be self-conscious, I think it suits you.” She narrowed her eyes at him, and Taavin had the audacity to have a laugh at her expense before continuing. “So if I wanted to heal that, I would use halleth ruta sot—” Taavin’s voice had a soothing quality to it, his accent running words together in a way that was smoother than silk. “—and make sure my glyphs were crafted with the intent of repairing the tissue in that location.”

  “Understood—three words, and then intent beyond that.” Just as she’d originally suspected. Lightspinning was not so different from the principles of elemental magic she’d been taught her whole life.

  “Sometimes there’s a fourth word.”

  “You’re just making this difficult now.” His mouth quirked up just slightly, as though he was not only amused by, but satisfied with, her accusation.

  “It’s the last word, I promise—even more rare than the clarification.”

  “Which is?”

  “If you are particularly blessed, you’ll be told a word from the Goddess—a word only for you that will give you the opportunity to enhance your spells, somehow. Again, it’s different for every person, but individuals with a goddess-word know how to wield it.”

  “Have you received a word?” Vi asked delicately, hoping he’d answer.

  “I’ve received multiple.”

  “Then you can hear the goddess through the flame?” Taavin’s gaze went hard. Vi’s heart raced. Perhaps she’d been wrong and even though the flame was weak, he could hear something?

  “I am the voice. It is my duty to hear her and guide the people with her words.”

  “Yes, but—”

  A knock interrupted them.

  “Your highness?” Andru asked through the door.

  Was it dinnertime already? She could hardly believe they’d been working that long.

  Vi’s eyes darted to Taavin and he gave a small nod. Vi stretched out her fingers and felt the tethers she’d summoned Taavin with unwind. Once she closed Sehra’s book and slipped her dresser drawer closed, it was like he hadn’t been there at all.

  “Yes, Andru—” Vi opened the door and was assaulted with the aroma of steaming food “—thank you for joining me for dinner.”

  “Thank you for having me.”

  The servants were finishing setting the table in her main room. When she was no longer on bed rest, it became inappropriate for him to sit alone with her in her bedroom, so they had to find other means of communicating privately. Dinner seemed to be the easiest excuse. Jax had even praised her for making an effort to “win Andru over” while warning her to be careful in the same breath.

  Vi had to fight back laughter the whole time during that conversation.

  Navigating merely meeting with Andru made Vi appreciate her easy relationship with Taavin all the more… and underscore how necessary it was for her to keep him a secret. She couldn’t imagine the look on her tutors’ faces if they discovered she could summon a man to her room on a whim. Though thinking about it had her fighting a grin.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked as the servants left.

  “Better. I ache all over still.” Vi rolled her shoulders as she crossed to the table. She couldn’t help but notice a little bit of oil staining the wood where Jayme usually tended to her blade.

  “Likewise.” Andru hurried over despite the ache, to pull out her chair for her. Vi eased herself down, feeling the seat hit the back of her knees and assure her she wasn’t going to land on the floor.

  “Are your shoulders still giving you trouble?” Vi asked as he took up the seat to her right.

  “They’re much better. Ginger does good work.”

  “Doesn’t she?” Vi helped herself to one of the large leaf pouches on a platter in the center of the table. When she opened it to reveal the rice and poultry mixture inside, a billow of steam hit her face and went right to her stomach, reminding her that she was actually quite hungry. “Speaking of work…”

  “Yes, I’ve been doing my best to secure and review trade notices and communications.” Andru followed Vi’s lead, though he struggled more unwrapping the leaf pouch. “Which hasn’t been entirely easy given my position here. But emissaries are arriving from the West for the solstice and I have found some information.”

  Vi ate quietly, listening intently as he continued.

  “It seems there are rumors that goods are still being bought and traded from the Crescent Continent.”

  “Despite the trade ban?” Vi asked after washing down a particularly hasty bite with a gulp of water.

  “Likely because of the trade ban. Nothing drives prices like scarcity and perceived rarity. It’s making tokens from the Crescent Continent even more valuable in the West, according to one trader I spoke to.” He paused, taking a sip from his own goblet. “Poor man, thought I was going to arrest him for selling illegal goods.”

  “Did you?”

  “What? No.” Andru looked at her, looked away, then looked back. “Even if I had the authority, do I strike you as someone who could apprehend anyone?”

  Vi laughed at his apt self-assessment. “No, you don’t…” And she liked him more for the fact. “So how are these goods getting here?”

  “That’s the question I had the hardest time answering. What we know is that it must be a network—people meeting on both sides, likely in neutral territories in the barrier islands. Nimble, well-guarded ships. Ever since official trade stopped, the barrier islands have become rife with pirate activity.”

  “Do we know who might be leading these networks?” She could already speculate that the elfin’ra may have smuggled himself on one of these illegal trading vessels. Perhaps he had allies Vi could uncover. Or, at the very least, she’d know how the red-eyed monsters were moving to report to Taavin.

  “Forgive me, all I know is hearsay, suspicions, and rumors.” He sighed, looking at his lap.

  “Tell me,” Vi commanded gently.

  “Perhaps… the Le’Dans.” Andru looked back up to her, gauging her reaction.

  If he had been expecting her to be upset or offended by the notion, he was wrong. “It’d hardly surprise me.”

  The Le’Dans were one of the oldest families of the West, only rivaled by Vi’s own lineage through her grandmoth
er—the Ci’Dan family. They had warred across the ages in feuds that read as everything from thrilling adventures to tragic romances. But in modern times, the Le’Dans had become essential to the crown, holding the purse strings of the West through their jewelry empire and being an essential voice of confidence in the remnants of the Western Court.

  Despite all that—no, because of it—Vi knew exactly what the Le’Dan family was: shrewd business people who never found themselves on the wrong end of a deal.

  “There are rumors they’re still getting fresh stock. They claim any Crescent jewels entering the market are from their vaults, but in reality… well…”

  “People aren’t convinced,” Vi finished for him. He seemed uncomfortable at the notion of accusing one of the most powerful families in the Solaris Empire of illicit deeds. Vi couldn’t exactly blame him.

  “My father included.”

  “Oh?”

  “He had me look into some things while I was in the Crossroads on the way here. Jayme and I stopped there as a halfway resting point.” The Crossroads was at the center of the Solaris Empire—a large city housing the intersection of the two major roads that connected the major capitals of each of the Empire’s four regions. “It was Romulin’s idea that I should start with the Le’Dans, given their clout. So I went to investigate one of the Le’Dan stores for myself.”

  Andru had stopped looking at her as he spoke. The casual, calm nature he’d had when he’d first arrived vanished completely. This was the shifty-eyed man she’d met at the stables weeks ago. What she’d taken then as suspicious behavior, she now recognized as extreme discomfort.

  “What is it?”

  “I found nothing there.” But he radiated too much anxiety for that to be true.

  “There’s more…” Vi pressed as gently as possible.

  Andru looked at her through his upper lashes. She leveled her gaze at him. For as friendly as they were becoming, he was not exempt from her command, and she wasn’t afraid to pull rank if necessary. She just hoped he’d tell her of his own volition instead.

  “Your highness—”

  “Let’s not go back to formalities, Andru. At least not in private.”