The Rising Tide

by Sarah Stirling

  “But the rift feels pretty stable. I don’t sense anything untoward from it.”

  “Because maidens like Hika and I monitor it carefully. But it does not matter when other rifts are rupturing and the gate is unwatched. No matter what we do, we are powerless against such a shifting tide. Perhaps you should be more concerned about what your rift wardens are doing, hm, Rook-chi?”

  Rook did not rise to the term of mockery, anger punctured by a thoughtful expression on her face. Janus was relieved for her own sake. “Hika?” she said, eyes flicking up to the woman in red, tall and curvaceous, with a sweet, round face. “Like the great rift warden of legend?”

  Hika nodded. “I am named after her.”

  “We all get named after legends,” sniffed Neyvik. “It is but a name.” She scooped some remains from the creature into a squat glass vial she had procured from her satchel, sealing it tightly and putting it into her bag. “Come,” she said as she straightened, hand on Hika’s arm, “we should take this to Mylai to examine.”

  Hylan scrambled to his feet. “And what of my inn? What is to become of it like this? I cannot get any custom with it covered in demon remains and bullet holes.”

  “Hylan-wei,” said Neyvik sweetly, “you would not have had any custom if you had riftbeasts attacking your guests. Consider it a reminder to leave offerings to the shrine next time, hm?”

  Janus held back a snort, watching the man’s face contort as it turned red. He looked ready to bellow but Neyvik simply turned on her heel and made to leave, only looking back when Rook fell in line with her. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “In Var Kunir’s name will you come with me.”

  “Now, now, Neyvik-dan,” said Rook, mimicking the woman’s tone from earlier, “you know as well as I that the rift maidens do not turn anyone away who seeks refuge and is willing to make their offering.”

  Neyvik scowled at her, eyes flickering past her head to Janus. “And the silent one?”

  Janus stared back into her hard gaze until she finally folded and looked away with a sigh. “Do what you will, then.”

  Rook dropped back to keep pace with him. “When you say this has been happening a lot, Hika-dan, what do you mean?”

  Hika spared a glance for Neyvik. “We have been called to various places across the city in the past few moons. It would appear riftspawn are causing problems everywhere we go.”

  “From others rifts, I must add,” said Neyvik. “Because we know every spirit that passes our gate.”

  “There have been many travelling through this way in an attempt to get the bounty on the Danma Vyll. I tried to explain to the Council that we should be the ones to deal with riftspawn, but you know how some of them can be about rift maidens.”

  Rook perked up. “The Danma Vyll?”

  “It is a creature that has been spotted by some locals that has managed to evade us so far. Our records of it are vague but we know it is a very powerful riftspawn, once renowned by scholars for its ability to affect a large area all at once and for its distinctive yellow-gold colour. Likely it is just another one of the beasts you slew and nothing more. But you know how people are, everyone has to prove they’re the only ones capable of slaying it. As if we have not been securing the safety of this city for thousands of years. These Rifkeepers, always thinking they know better.”

  “Where was it spotted?”

  Neyvik rolled her eyes as she stepped out into the city street, black but for the pools of amber light cast by street lights set high above the doors of buildings. In their muted glow the paint of a small carriage shone, two laishok attached to harnesses at the front. She climbed up onto the ledge and slipped through the curtain covering the doorway, Rook chasing after her with myriad questions spilling from her lips.

  In the cool night air Janus shivered, patting in his pocket for his damp bag of tobacco. When he looked up the sky was clear, a rich tapestry of silver stars threaded through midnight velvet, distorted by the cloud of his breath as he sighed. He didn’t really know what he was doing there, following Rook – following The Rook – so far south as if he could somehow stumble upon the answers he needed. But Janus had always been good at running. At least now he was trying to face things head on, come what may.

  “I fear those two may be like oil and water.”

  He glanced at Hika who stood a few paces to his left, watching the same stars with a serene expression on her face. The warm lamplight reflected off the delicate embroidery of her kobi, the silky fabric shining. From the carriage he could hear voices rising, Neyvik and Rook locked in argument once more.

  Janus grunted his agreement and dropped the tobacco back into his pocket. As much as he needed to release some of the tension building in his muscles, there was no time for indulgence. He would have to make do until they had somewhere they could rest. Fatigue tugged at him but he pushed it aside and made to climb into the carriage.

  “You are not like her, are you?” came the soft voice from behind him.

  He whirled, frowning at her.

  “I mean,” Hika said, startled by his reaction, “I mean you are not a warden in training. If you do not mind my asking, I suppose I am curious as to why you are here.”

  He took a moment to pick through his words. “Nowhere else to go.”

  It was about as truthful as he could manage, even if he could see the crease in her brow and the twist to her lips. Unprepared for an examining by the inquisitive rift maiden, Janus brushed past her and stole into the melee inside the carriage, welcomed by the hostile tone of the two women sitting opposite one another, arms crossed and spines rigid.

  Squeezing in next to Rook, Janus ignored Hika as she slipped in after him and rested a gentle hand on Neyvik’s arm to draw her out of the angry tirade she had fallen into. The hum of The Rook settled into the back of his skull and he breathed a soft sigh of relief. It was always like this; the further he went from it – from her – the worse the tension in his skull became, only softening when he came back to her again.

  Rook caught his eye and mouthed, “You okay?”

  Janus pressed his lips together and nodded once. He did not know how to tell her the depth of his connection to The Rook, or the way he felt calm in its presence. He did not know what she would say if she knew. Mostly he did not want to worry her, for he knew if she thought he was chained to her because of a deal he had made to save her life, she would assume it her own fault.

  So he leant back against the seat and closed his eyes, shutting off the world for a little longer. His new proactive attitude could wait until he had managed more than two hours of sleep.

  *

  “I can see you’re curious.”

  Kilai glanced behind her as Kallan marched up to the railing at her side. Her silvery locks were tucked up in a purple bandanna today, blowing around her shoulders on a crisp wind. The low season was creeping in fast, she could feel its icy breath every evening as the sun collapsed onto a bed of black sea. Clutching her shawl closer to her, she murmured, “You must admit it is a curious situation, whatever it is you wish to hide.”

  Kallan hummed, apparently undaunted by the sharp wind picking up from the south. “It would all depend, of course, on how trustworthy you can be.”

  “Have I given you reason to find me wanting?”

  There was a beat of quiet, filled by the slosh of the waves against the side of the ship. “No. But neither have you given me any reason to trust you, Kilai-wei.”

  “Then perhaps it is time you drop the honorific and take a chance.”

  Kallan’s teeth gleamed in the lantern dangling from a hook behind them. “I have not lasted as long as I have by being reckless.”

  “But you have come to me for a reason, no? I believe you wish to trust me, Captain, but our problem will remain circular until one of us breaks it. I cannot prove myself trustworthy if you give me no chance to prove it to you.”

  Kallan nodded, expression contemplative. “You may
join us on this exchange, then, if you would like.”

  Kilai blinked out into the darkness, noticing the first spots of light like winking eyes staring back at her. Torch flame. As they drew closer she could see the slick black rock part into a crevice mouth, hidden but for the torches set into the nostrils of the snout and deep insets of the eyes. For the rock had been carved into the likeness of a face – perhaps a drake, perhaps a serpent – it was difficult to tell in the cover of night. She could not see any walkway but someone must have come through recently in order to light the torches. Curious, she craned her neck over the railing to get a better look.

  “Drop the anchor!” called Kallan.

  The crew bustled around behind them, calling to one another as the anchor was lowered beneath the waves, hiding them in the nook of the cave mouth. A small rowing boat was gradually dropped down until it was hidden by the darkness and it was only then that her suspicions were confirmed. They would be going into the cave.

  Kallan nodded her head in a gesture to follow, a small group of their crew including Makku and Jorkell waiting by the rope ladder that cascaded over the side of the ship. Swinging a leg over the side, Makku saluted to her as he disappeared below, tufts of his dark hair the last thing she saw before the next member went. One by one they descended into the sea until only she and Kallan were left, the captain turning to her with a tilt to her brows.

  Peering over the edge into the abyss below, Kilai gulped. But she could not show weakness. Not now, when she had sought the call of adventure of her own volition; she could hardly deny it in the face of a little trepidation. So she hooked a leg over the side, boot sliding against wood until she hit the first rung of the ladder. It did not feel strong enough to take her weight and she tested it a few times before she saw dark eyes watching, an amused tilt to Kallan’s lips. Kilai took a deep breath and forced herself to think logically. If it could take Jorkell’s weight, then it could definitely take hers.

  Pushing aside dizzying images of the rope snapping and her body tumbling down into the darkness below, Kilai took her first step, breath releasing in a hiss through her teeth as it held. Braver now, she took the next, and the next, until she was scrambling down the side in her haste to get the descent over with. Seeing the lantern light flicker in Yejah’s hand was a welcome beacon in the darkness, using it to guide her foot towards the rowing boat. It rocked as she placed one foot inside, gripping the rope ladder painfully tight, and she pushed off with her other to jump the small gap of black water, tumbling into Makku.

  “I’ll cushion your landing, no problem,” he grumbled, rubbing at his arm as he shoved her off him.

  Kilai rolled her eyes, grinning with the giddiness of relief. Above, she could see the moonlit silhouette of the captain nimbly climbing down the side of the ship. Her landing was much smoother than Kilai’s own, settling into the boat with ease and nodding for them to begin moving. As much as Kilai wanted to ask where they were going, she sensed it was something she was going to have to experience for herself, a hush falling over their small party.

  The oil lantern in Yejah’s hand was the only light by which she could see, shimmering in the reflection of the waves. Dimly, she could discern the huge stalactites hanging from the roof of the cavern, sharp fangs jutting from the mouth of the beast about to swallow them whole, and she couldn’t help but gasp as a creature swooped past her head, ducking out of instinct.

  Makku rumbled with laughter, eyes glittering in the amber light. “It’s just a bat.”

  “Should be more worried about below,” said Jorkell and Kilai could not tell from her tone whether or not she was joking.

  “Hush, both of you,” said Yejah, drawing her cloak around her. “There is nothing to fear in these caves.” But her expression betrayed her words, lips pressed into a tight line.

  Each drip of water from above echoed through the cavern, light bouncing off the pillars created where stalactites above met the stalagmites below. Although they were sheltered from the bite of the wind inside the caves, the temperature was much cooler than outside and she shivered every time an icy drop landed on her skin.

  The more they travelled the more her intrigue grew, wondering what could possibly have them rowing so deep into the cavern. She kept firmly to Yejah’s side, comforted by the warm glow of the lantern rocking in her hands, the light bouncing around each of their faces.

  “The sailors I spoke to in Pyllhar claimed these caves are haunted,” said Makku. The lantern light swirled around his face, changing its shape with the interplay of light and shadow. “The storms around this season can be lethal for ships. When they get dashed against the rocks, some of the surviving sailors will swim into these caves looking for shelter, never to be seen again.”

  “We’ve been in these caves before, Makku,” said Yejah.

  “We’ve been fine so far but who’s to say we haven’t been lucky?”

  “If they were never seen again, how do we know they even entered these caves in the first place?” said Kilai, voice scathing despite the way the hairs on her arms were standing to end.

  “Locker, you all like to ruin a good story, don’t you?” Makku sighed, dipping his oar into the water. Instead of the telltale swish of water, there was a weighted pause, followed by a yelp.

  Kilai and Yejah shared a glance and sighed.

  Makku scrambled to the other side of the boat, causing it to rock violently in the water and kick up spray. Swiping at her nose as the water went up her nostrils and made her eyes stream, she shoved at him. “It’s not funny anymore!”

  At that moment a light went on. Kilai froze, eyes drawn to the source of the bright, pink-hued light below. A long, shark-shaped creature swirled through the black water, snaking beneath their boat only to appear in front of them, burning her eyes with the sudden light after so much darkness. Its form illuminated the whole cave, making the slick, damp walls sparkle with the shimmering glow emanating from its form. When she leaned over to peer at it she could see individual scales shining below the water, in shades of red, rose and silver. Long tendrils pulled from its body, like the tentacles pluming from jellyfish, and its blank eyes were a pale, almost silver blue.

  Then as quickly as the creature had come it disappeared, casting them back into the darkness. Spots danced in her vision and Kilai scrubbed at her eyes, feeling her thumping heartbeat settle back into a regular rhythm. The silence lingered on after its passing, as if no one dared speak in case they drew it back. Kilai did not think the creature malicious, for she had seen the consequences when they took hosts, but she still felt unsettled. Perhaps it was only now, without her regular companions accompanying her, that she realised she was exposed to the worst of the world beyond which she did not truly understand. Rook, Janus, and Viktor were all far more equipped to deal with riftspawn than she, who could only sit in her spot and prey it would not come back.

  “See, I told you, didn’t I?” Makku punctured the tension building within their party.

  He yelped as Jorkell thumped him over the head with her oar.

  “That was no ghost,” she said.

  “Spirits take on different forms when they die,” said Makku. “You cannot judge one by the shape it takes.”

  She looked at him, trying to decipher from his expression whether he was being serious or not, but his eyes were staring ahead, brow furrowed and beaded with sweat. Growing up on Nirket with such a heavy Sonlin presence in her formative years, Kilai had not been exposed to the Myrliks’ predominate religion, but she knew enough to know that the followers of Illumination believed riftspawn were the souls of the dead looking for their place of rebirth.

  “Sailors who died violent deaths here will travel east until they complete their cycle of life and can be reborn again.” Makku’s words were punctuated by heavy breaths from rowing. The water slapped against the sides of the boat, spraying her arms through her shirt. “Here it is hardest for them, for there is no light to guide their way. Too easily they will be swallowed down by Va
r Kunir’s dark waves where they will spend their eternity trapped within his locker of damned souls.”

  “This is why you don’t think they’re dangerous,” she surmised.

  Makku shrugged and continued rowing.

  “My grandmother was a follower of the Illuminated,” said Yejah, shifting her legs, “She was obsessed with spirit chimes. They used to wake me up any time I stayed with her.”

  “I must confess, my father and I were followers of the Zorashiran practices ourselves.” What had started as an offshoot of Illumination had become a popular church in its own right, with a much bigger presence in Sathkuro than its ancestor.

  Makku shook his head at her. “Those guides are always preaching about Var Kunir, but there’s never any mention of Lai Kusok. You would think there was only darkness in the world with no light. The world needs the balance of their opposing forces.”

  “I don’t know,” said Yejah, looking around herself, “I’m starting to feel like darkness is the truth.”

  Jorkell nodded in agreement.

  “As enlightening as this conversation is, keep your eyes peeled. We’re going to reach land very soon.” She had forgotten about Kallan’s presence, the woman’s voice startling her. Kilai glanced behind her but the captain was shaded with the darkness, features indistinguishable except for the glittering of her eyes.

  “Think that’s us here,” said Makku, pointing.

  There came a point in front of them where the water stopped reflecting the lantern light, the faint shapes of rocks and boulders rising over the water. This deep into the cave it smelled strongly of salt and damp, their voices echoing despite the hushed tones with which they spoke, as if afraid to attract whatever might be hiding under the cover of dark. Each stroke of the oars through the water seemed that much louder for her reduced vision and Kilai wondered briefly if this was how the spirit sense worked for those who could sense them.