“After you,” he croaked, thumping his walking stick down. The head was modelled in the shape of a bird’s head, carved from ivory. She eyed the sharp beak and wondered, as she drew on The Rook’s strength to shove upon the door with a grunt, whether it had been the very thing to trigger their first meeting. It was a strange sensation.
Did I make you in its image?
The Rook cawed, the sensation of wings exacerbated by a sharp gust of wind against her face. Shivering, she pried the door further open and was greeted with a white canvas of a world. Taking her first step out into this strange, colourless land, she dipped further into the connection between them as she was hit with a strong wave of spiritual energy. She sneezed, loud enough to echo around her, and wiped at the flakes collecting upon her lashes.
You’re not supposed to have a form though, are you? Did I make you Rook or did you make me Rook?
Its anger surged within her at the question but she smiled. The wind whipped at her hair, her boots crunching beneath her as she trekked through the layer of snow.
I know you are afraid. I am, too.
Looking behind her, she called out, “Are you all right, old man? Do you need my help?”
Grey waved his stick at her, a litany of profanity falling from his lips. Shaking her head, she ploughed on, following the growing beacons of energy that were the signatures dotted around the pulsing heart of the rift, further out on the plateau above the fortress. At their familiarity she nearly wept with relief, to know that some of her old companions had stayed. That there was still some rift wardens, still out fighting to keep the state of the world intact, no matter how futile. It was simply the Riftkeeper way.
“Rook-ka, is that you?”
Through the haze of the blizzard she glimpsed a faint shape before a weight knocked into her, nearly toppling her to the ground. Rocking back on her feet, she breathed in a fresh signature that burbled like a mountain spring, carrying with it the scent of grass on the wind. A small round face peered at her, surprising her with being nearly level with her gaze, the girl’s cheeks rosy and lashes iced over with frost.
“Rook-ka, you returned! Are you a rift warden now?”
Reaching into the girl’s hood, Rook ruffled her hair. “Lyttah. No, I am no rift warden yet. My, I can’t believe how you’ve grown.”
The girl smiled, stretching up the last few inches between them. Before she had left, Lyttah had been a full head shorter than her, nothing but a slip of a girl not yet at maturity. The young woman before her was tall and elegant, face glowing with a new strength, but every bit as vibrant as she remembered. Around her a green aura shimmered, the colour of open fields.
“Lyttah, where have you gone? We need you –”
Taykar paused some feet from her, eyes widening when he took her in. “Rook,” he breathed. “I thought I felt something but I –”
Before they could reconnect, a booming crash thundered down the mountainside, the snow rumbling, powdery white as it clouded up into a sky the colour of dust. Rook tensed, feeling a sudden spike in the currents of energy wreathing around her. She gripped Lyttah’s hand and the two of them ran in the direction of the rift, no time for explaining to Taykar, or the other familiar faces she was greeted with. Skidding in the snow, she dipped into the well of her power and felt The Rook stir eagerly, stretching its cramped wings.
Before them loomed a huge stone structure that created a massive loop into the sky, the boulders blanketed by a thick layer of snow and ice. Between the stones shimmered the starburst of lights and colours that was the door to the realm beyond, and from its confines spilled riftspawn in droves. Most were harmless, so tiny and weak they had no bearing on their world. But some of them carried such potent auras that her lip curled in disgust, The Rook bristling when their signatures brushed hers. These were the creatures the wardens fought to keep out, for if not they could threaten the very foundations of their world. A trickle of blood ran from one nostril, warm against the bitter chill. She shivered in anticipation.
Whipping out her riftblades, Rook launched into action with a cry that sounded like the shriek of a bird, cutting down the riftspawn that strayed into her path. Each time her blade cut through she sucked up the spiritual energy, strengthening her until her veins gushed with power, her movements twirling faster and faster. She was vaguely aware of the flares around her as the rift wardens at either side of her joined the fray, but the more she danced with The Rook at her back, the harder it became to distinguish friend from foe. She cut and spun and hacked the air. She lunged and whirled. One by one she cleaved the riftspawn from the sky.
“Rook, watch out!”
She barely stopped her blade in time, halting right above Lyttah’s head. Her breath exhaled in clouds of frigid air, pants heavy in the sudden silence as recognition flooded through the raging storm of her mind. Apologies stuttered from her lips but Lyttah straightened up, ducking out of the way of her blade, and gently pushed it down. Her eyes still shone a faint green, two beacons in the blizzard raging around them. Rook barely felt the snow; barely registered the wind cutting into her flesh. She could barely feel the bone handle in her grip. All she knew was the ebb and flow of the rift, like the breath of life itself.
“Are you here, Rook?”
She blinked, shaking some of the haze loose. As much as The Rook desired control, they had an agreement now. You do not control me.
“I am here.”
Lyttah nodded, auburn hair tumbling from her hood as she turned to gaze up at the rift. “It has been growing worse each day.”
Rook glanced around, counting a handful of Riftkeepers left. “How did things get so bad?”
Lyttah frowned, drawing her own blade – a long, thin sword that curved towards the end. “I don’t know.”
“There aren’t enough of us,” said Taykar, stepping up to them. The kaleidoscope of colours from the rift reflected in his dark eyes. “We are all that stands between this world and the one beyond.”
The Rook was screaming in her mind, each cry shriller than the last. Thrown, Rook sucked in a breath, clutching at her ears. The other nostril bled this time, a matching streak of red on either side of her face. The others turned to her, sensing her distress. How they weren’t overwhelmed she didn’t know. But The Rook had always been sensitive.
“Something is coming.”
Instinctively she took a step forward, shielding them as the lights above them flared and sputtered, energy spiking so high her head spun with its force. Then a huge shape grew from the tear, a large face with black eyes followed by a long, snaking body, complete with spiny protrusions along its back and sides that faded into wisps of smoke. It was a deep, blood red in colour, the swirling snow faint through its translucent form, and as it dove from the ring of stone with a piercing cry, a long tail swept out in a semicircle. A wave of noxious energy exuded from its form and Rook dived beneath the arc of its tail, spinning up on the other side to slice down with her riftblade.
But the creature was too quick, sweeping outwards with its tail and knocking into her, sending her staggering into the snow. Its strange aura sparked through her, overwhelming. It knocked the breath from her. Rolling, she jumped back up to her feet with The Rook’s rage pulsing between her ears, gasping for air. She could still feel its presence in the back of her mind; its desire to take and take and take.
Fight devour and take.
And so they would. With The Rook’s encouragements whispered in her ear, she whirled and cut, blades extended out from her hands in flashes of silver and grey. She hacked into it, revelling in the way it retreated from her with a ripple of fear, relishing the taste of its power on her tongue. More. Rook wanted more.
Rook!
Somewhere she heard a name, as if muffled through water. But she couldn’t pull herself to the surface no matter how hard she swam, content to simply drift on the tides of her shared consciousness. Bold colours and strange shapes collided into the normality of her memories, until the images bled
together. She had lived in a world like that, once upon a time. A terrifying, sprawling realm of infinite possibility. In that world she had been a predator, mighty and strong, and now she was nothing but a god stuffed into a meat suit, forced to share thoughts with one of these strange, fleeting flesh creatures that snuffed in and out of life like their little wax fires.
Fight, devour and take.
Here, in this arena that tasted like the otherworld, it only knew the fight. Fight or die was the only truth that existed and The Rook had survived too much to simply roll over and die. Every creature around it was their enemy. So they had to claw their way to the top or they would be consumed into the consciousness of another, until whatever was unique to them faded, worn away by the need to devour more. But when it tugged at her strings she resisted the force of it, locking her muscles and gritting her teeth.
We know a better way now.
Fight devour, and take.
Once her blade sliced through a riftspawn and she felt the delicious taste of the energy, the tension fled her. She stopped fighting, listening to the thumping of her heartbeat in her veins as it aligned with the constant push and pull of the rift – the door to the world beyond that it did not want to go back through. No, here it was real. Here it could live without the fear of its existence being snatched from its grasp at any moment. The Rook would do anything to protect the life it had nurtured in this world.
“Rook! Rook listen to me!”
She stirred again but The Rook smothered her with its hunger. It picked at that loose thread until she unravelled, a whirlwind of steel and trailing smoke, cutting down everything in her path. There were no friends in this life. Only enemies. It was the only one who knew her for every facet of herself. Who accepted every dark corner and sharp edge.
Only friend.
“Rook!”
Something cracked across her face, loud enough to ring out. She staggered, thoughts knocked loose as pain throbbed in her skull. It took her a moment to remember where she was, a familiar signature settling itself inside her chest and quelling the raging tide inside her, comforting like the scent of family. Clutching her head, she peered up at old Grey as he loomed over her, his stick still in hand. The lines in his face were trenches, scooping up the flesh of his jowls.
“Show some temperance, girl! Have I taught you nothing?”
The weight of several pairs of eyes around her became apparent and her cheeks flushed with shame. “Grey,” she said, head drooping. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head but his eyes were gentle. “You always throw yourself into the fray without an anchor to pull you back. You need to find a way to bring yourself out of your trance or that beast will own you.”
She did not know how to tell him that she and The Rook had made a pact of sorts; a compromise between their warring desires. Such a thing was not supposed to happen, of course. They did not make deals with riftspawn. And she could understand why, frustration flaring through her as she trudged after their weary party, back to the shelter of the fortress. A few rift wardens stayed behind to monitor the rift, mercifully calm for the moment, if still erratic.
I thought we agreed. If I cannot trust you, I cannot help you.
The Rook hissed, stirring. She quashed the trickle of power rising inside her, brushing off its anger. The glances from those around her felt heavy so she kept her head down, hoping they could not feel her still fighting with her abilities. It was embarrassing enough to have lost control. To still be unable to control herself outside of battle went beyond even the berserker nature of her family’s clan.
You and I. We.
There was a rippling sensation within her mind that felt almost a little like guilt. The Rook, it seemed, had not meant to lose control but was merely victim to its baser nature in moments of fear. That was all it had known in the otherworld and that failed to change in this one. But it had agreed to fight with her, not against her, and it meant that conviction. For as long as they shared a body in this life.
Stop fighting me, then.
Fight, devour and take.
Fight, adapt and grow.
After struggling down the steep staircase, Grey stooped over his walking stick at the bottom to catch his breath. “I must retire to my chambers now. Wakka will show you to your room.” His cough followed him out, narrow shoulders shaking with the force of it.
Rook shared a look with Wakka, who was biting her lip. “He grows wearier by the day.”
“We all do,” said Ilya. “I can’t remember the last night I had a full night’s sleep.”
Wakka sighed. “Wake the others before you go to bed. It is time for a rotation.”
He nodded and stalked off, leaving the two of them in the narrow corridor. The others had already gone ahead.
“You must be hungry. Come, we should eat something before we rest. Your room is still free, untouched. You can return there tonight.”
Rook nodded, following her through to the warmly lit kitchen, perhaps the only room in the entire structure that retained any heat, fires crackling in the great oven against the far wall. Some of the members of the Orders were piled around the large wooden table in the centre of the room, quiet chatter and the smell of cooked food filling the room with a homely feel. Pulling up a stool, she waved at those around the table before diving into a piece of roasted snow faun, only realising how deep her hunger went when the aroma hit her empty belly.
“Rook is back,” exclaimed Lyttah happily.
Taykar nodded, chewing on a hunk of bread that looked black around the edges. A few of the others – a researcher, a cook, and a weapon smith, nodded or waved in greeting. She recognised their faces even if she could not remember all their names, too preoccupied with stuffing her face for proper introductions. Soon there was only the sound of tearing and gulping down food, warmth seeping into her bones.
“Where have you been, Rook-ka?” asked Lyttah, her freckled cheeks flushed red with the heat after the freezing cold.
She paused with two halves of a cleaved loaf in her hands. So much had happened in the time since she had been away that she had no idea how to answer that question. “I travelled north to Nirket on the Yllzo.” She thought of Kilai. “I mean, Sathkuro. After that I made my way southwards again, through Tsellyr and Yuratsa.”
“You were in Tsellyr?” she said, palms slapping on the table.
“What is the Order like there?”
Rook glanced around the table, finding all eyes attentive on her. She frowned. “You haven’t heard?”
“What? What is it?” said Taykar, pausing with a leg of meat halfway to his face.
She bit her lip. Things were obviously precarious here, with too few of them to cover the rift in such turmoil. Disheartening them further would do no one any good. Yet she couldn’t find it in herself to lie. “There was no one there. The Order had been shut down by the Sonlin forces there.”
Silence.
“What do you mean, no one was there? Where did they go?” asked a man she did not know the name of, in researcher robes.
“I don’t know. They were just… gone.”
There were a few gasps around her. Taykar swore, shaking his head. “People don’t just disappear.”
Rook put down her bread, suddenly full. The heat was stifling, fires breathing against her back and causing sweat to drip down her neck. She rubbed at it, wishing they wouldn’t all stare at once. “I thought maybe you had been in contact. That you might know.”
“Contact has been difficult,” said Wakka. “We thought all the activity was breaking up communication lines.”
“There must be a reason,” said Lyttah. “They must have gone somewhere.”
Taykar’s eyes bored into her. She could feel the weight of his gaze, forcing her to look up. “The political situation isn’t good in Tsellyr, is it? That mayor introducing elections and then the occupation by General Nevi. Word is that the city is one day away from rupture itself.”
“It’s…” she longed fo
r Kilai’s delicacy with words, a pang of longing hitting her with force, “it’s a precarious situation right now. I can’t deny that. They are not fond of Riftkeepers or what they see as superstition.”
Taykar snorted. “Try superstition when a Vartza devours them whole.”
Murmuring agreement echoed around the room.
“You must have investigated. Couldn’t you turn up anything?”
Rook looked around the table, remembering that dark, cold room and being strapped to the bed. The scientist who had experimented with things he did not understand and the haunted look in Janus’ eyes, like he was reliving an event he had already suffered. How to explain without inflaming them, the things she had seen? How to explain anything that had happened to her in the past year?
“Did you try very hard at all?” said Taykar, leaning forward. “Or did you run back here with your tail between your legs because you didn’t know how to handle the real world?”
Anger flared in her, sudden and blinding. All she could hear was the roaring in her ears, forcing her to her feet. Her palms slammed on the table. Did this human not know this girl belonged to The Rook? Did he not realise it would snap his head from his shoulders if he dared disrespect her like that? Clearly they recognised the danger because half of the table rose to their feet, reaching for weapons. Various currents of energy shifted and pulled. In answer she yanked on the threads around her, overwhelming them with the strength of The Rook, eyes flashing in warning.
“Rook,” murmured Lyttah.
“That girl is out of control,” said another.
Rook snapped the connection between her and The Rook, feeling the power drain away until she was blanching. She stumbled back, raising her palms. “I’m sorry, I did not mean for…” She couldn’t even explain exactly what had just happened. It seemed like The Rook had risen to her defence.
“I think you should retire for the night. We are all tired here and do not need more spirits to put down,” said Taykar.
The Rising Tide Page 24
