The Rising Tide

by Sarah Stirling

  At some point it became simple human curiosity. What would it take, to finally end him? Perhaps this would be it. Janus did not welcome it but nor did he retreat from it.

  A shrill scream split his eardrums as a tentacle wrapped around one of the girls behind Neyvik and thrust her down into the floor. The last thing he saw was her hand before she disappeared, cries smothered by the gloopy substance below. He could feel it latching onto his shoes, slithering up, and up. But there was a hesitance to its movements. Like it knew he did not belong to it. Like it could scent the mark of another on his skin and knew that taking him would mean facing the wrath of an even more powerful being. Still, it continued onwards, wrapping around him in an attempt to pull him into the wall.

  “Janus, take the contract! It needs to be signed.”

  He whirled on Neyvik, half smothered by the wriggling, piling mass of tentacles tugging her down into the ground. Hika grabbed her hands, futilely trying to pull her back.

  A series of gunshots rang out in the air. The tentacles around him retreated and he stumbled without the force holding him tight. Through the rising smoke, Kardak adjusted his glasses, lips pressed tight. Behind him was another girl – the last girl, Mylai – who had still yet to sign the contract. Janus expelled a sigh of relief, nearly falling to the floor right there and then as the adrenaline poured from his aching limbs.

  Neyvik brushed herself free of the receding mass around her and flung herself at them. “Sign. Please, Mylai, you need to sign this right now.”

  The girl looked stunned but she did as bid, if only because of the possessed look upon Neyvik’s face. As the quill scratched out the last curve, there was a collective intake of breath, all eyes in the room meeting one another in turn.

  There was no sudden click. No definitive sign that anything had changed, other than that they weren’t currently being attacked by the very walls they resided within.

  “Is it… is it done?”

  Everything was solid once more, for the most part. Janus reached out and swiped at the wall with his finger, finding it gave but not by much. The substance retreated from his touch as if he repulsed it, sparks of amber flaring up.

  “Might take a while to settle. Think we’ll be okay.”

  “But how do we know that it won’t still try to kill us?”

  Janus scratched his head. “It’s part of our world now. No guarantees but this should give it some stability.”

  Kardak furrowed his brow. “What in the Locker is going on?”

  Janus opened his mouth but he didn’t have an answer for him. Instead he snapped his jaw shut and managed to eke a wearied shrug from his shoulders. In the eyes of the rift maidens around him, weary and bruised, he saw his own fatigue mirrored. There was time to discover this brave new world they found themselves in. But first something far more important. First he would sleep.

  Part Six: The Locker

  They were everywhere. Riftspawn. Viktor could feel their curiosity as their signatures brushed against the net of his senses, sending sparks of colour and noise vibrating through him. His body shivered with it, feeling so many interweaving currents of energy. Somehow the sensations only grew stronger and stronger, until he felt like he was walking through the otherworld itself with the way everything around him reacted to his presence. Some were deferential, zipping across feelings of respect to him as trees bowed their leafy heads to him. Others were fearful, swooping out of the way as soon as he drew too close.

  But they knew him. They knew he was the one bonded to the phoenix; that he was the prince reborn. A guardian of the realms. They knew when Viktor himself didn’t, wandering the hills as he chased the deep vibrating bass of the rift. Nothing looked quite as it should. Where green foliage had filled the jungle, now there was strange purple leaves that expanded and contracted with the pulse of energy from the rift. The branches twisted and swayed, roots turned to feet as they plucked themselves from the ground and plodded across the land. A riftspawn hit one and the tree exploded with a bright spark of red, growing arms and facial features until it resembled a scaly barked armadillo on its hind legs, red shrubbery shooting from its back.

  The river shone iridescent in the moonlight, its song a joyous melody of wonder at the way it felt to be free to flow without disruption. As the land grew steeper on Viktor’s trek, he was stunned to find that the water flowed upwards, the lack of splash around the point where the sheer cliff face met the gentler slope of land unnaturally still. A deer plodded down to drink, bowing his head only to reveal scales growing all the way down its back that turned the same shade of blue as the feathery grass beneath its webbed feet. Its antlers were made of a deep turquoise light, like Viktor might put his hand through them and find nothing there.

  “What in the Locker is going on?”

  But there was no one to answer him. Only the music of the jungle; the cries and snuffles and rustling shrubbery mixing with the soft lullabies and crashing drums of the otherworld. Viktor marched on, his consternation growing. In his palm a small bead of green flame bloomed and he drank in its familiar warmth with greed, feeling the energy rush through his veins. In his mind the phoenix was poised, ready for the hunt. It wanted to slaughter the riftspawn and take their energy. So much food so readily available made it salivate, pushing him into action.

  Viktor stared at a riftspawn fluttering by his head; a small, trembling creature lighting up the dark sky. “You want to eat this?”

  The phoenix screeched, the sound shrill enough to hurt his ears.

  “We’re supposed to be finding the rift. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  The burnt smell was unsettling and he glanced around, looking for the fire until he realised it was nestled in his palm, sending out waves of spiritual energy with him at its core. No wonder these riftspawn always seemed to surround him wherever he went. He could feel it now – sense just how powerful his signature felt to those who could feel it. The deep, unnatural rhythm like a bass drum slightly off the beat of the dance. With it came charcoal and brimstone. The smell of terror and death.

  So hypnotised was he by the shifting blues and greens of the fire in his hand that he did not sense the shift of energy in the air, the way it bunched and gathered in the sky. Not until a blinding light split the sky in two and then the lightning struck a point in the distance, so much power congealing into an almost physical wall. Viktor could actually see it, shimmering like a heat haze in the distance with sparks of bright gold. The signature felt faintly familiar, brisk like a blast of icy wind. Viktor shivered.

  The phoenix reared up, furious. Something was in its territory. That was not allowed.

  “Can you please calm down?” The pressure felt like someone was trying to crack his skull open with a hammer.

  I am not angry, he reminded himself. I am calm. Going on a nice, calm walk.

  Viktor was growing weary of losing control all the time. At this point he had long lost sense of whether he truly was Viktor, and all the staggering, colossal fear gnawing in his belly that came with that thought, but he couldn’t say he was really Vallnor either. He was no prince and he was no haughty, conceited monster who had been spoiled by sycophants and finery. There was one thing, however, that Vallnor did better than Viktor. He was decisive. He knew what he wanted and he went after it.

  So Viktor followed the beacon that was the rift, like a heart at the peak of the hills above the valley in which Tsellyr nestled, eggshell fragments of a city in an emerald green bay. Although there was a rift on the main island of the city, here the energy was that much more potent, reeling him in like he was just another hapless riftspawn drawn to the crux of where the two realms intertwined. The thought was a blow.

  Am I a riftspawn now? Kind of?

  Rook had always considered herself as something in between, as much as she emphasised her human side. But both her capabilities and her limitations – both the strength and the lack of control – suggested something else. Viktor, too, lived by different rules. The healing,
the fire, the memories that did not belong to him… none of it should have been real. And yet.

  A high pitched cackle started from somewhere to his left and Viktor started, glancing around him. The world had turned eerily still after so much movement, lights winking out into a settling darkness. The twisted, unnatural shapes of natural things took on a more sinister edge now that he could no longer recognise them for what they were supposed to be. So many threads of energies intertwined here that he waded through the shifting currents like a man desperate to find land. He was relying on the phoenix’s fiery energy to prevent the looming crash in his adrenaline.

  To what do I owe this pleasure?

  Suddenly a riftspawn flickered into view before him. A small, fox-like creature, only green instead of black, its face covered by a white mask with lines of gold. It had three tails and they sparked natural coloured flame, hypnotising with their fluid movements that formed lines of orange in the sky.

  The fire crashed through him, his muscles straining with the effort to suppress it. The phoenix clamoured for control, fuming at the audacity of such a weak creature to dare address its vessel in such an insubordinate way. It had to be crushed. It had to be struck down so that it knew –

  No.

  No? The creature tilted its head, gold flashing in the moonlight. It sounded amused. Viktor knew this signature.

  “Who are you?”

  A throaty chuckle and the caress of the wind through his hair. “You have stolen my question, Prince. Forgive me if I do not bow to you.”

  Viktor froze, watching as the man appeared behind his riftspawn. Deathly pale, with gold hair and gold eyes and shining gold lines running down his neck, his exposed arms, across his cheek. The very way he walked was unnatural; a fluid dance that tricked the eye into making him look like he floated. Amongst it all Viktor recognised the Sonlin coat beneath the layers of mud, ripped and ridden with holes but still marking him as who he was. Or rather, who he had been.

  “You are the soldier. Seeker.”

  The man’s lips pursed, a sudden gust tearing through Viktor’s clothes. “I am Ziko Rift-breaker, the last Storm Lord.”

  Wrapping his arms around himself to keep in the warmth, he ran his gaze over the wraith-like man. “How very grand. Perhaps I am the one who should be bowing.”

  Ziko laughed but it was a brittle sound, like crunching bones. “Perhaps you should. Now let me ask you, who are you?”

  He opened his mouth but no words came out. Only the crickets, if they were still crickets at all, hummed a lilting lament. Something about death and new beginnings and the cycle of life. Viktor couldn’t even pretend to understand. All he knew was the buzz between his ears and the way the ground around him bled red. The colour seeped out from where he stood, spreading across the strange, shifting waves of the grass. Startled riftspawn shot from their hiding spots between the stalks, trees dropping their leaves all at once until they resembled old, wizened skeletons.

  “The question disturbs you.”

  Viktor frowned at Ziko. “It’s a stupid question. I am me.”

  “So be it.” Ziko turned and began to walk away. It took him a moment to process his retreating back.

  “Where are you going?”

  “There’s only one way to find out.”

  Viktor scampered after him, watching his feet. The man took steps, it just didn’t look like it when he moved. An illusion. A trick of the eye. Up above, in a sky the colour of a bruised peach, the moon blinked at him. His heart skipped a beat, flames erupting from his palms. The fire had become an anchor to him; something warm and familiar when everything seemed so wrong. How strange, that what had once seemed so frightening was now the one piece of himself he clung to in his fear. The one thing he could rely on.

  “What happened to you?”

  Ziko glanced behind him. It was, perhaps, a rude question but Viktor had never been taught decent manners and Vallnor had never cared.

  “I walked the lands of the otherworld and came out the other side.”

  “You – you went to the otherworld?”

  Ziko paused before a yawning cave mouth cut into the steep, craggy hill that tore into the sky. In the darkness the lines etched into his skin glowed, veins of molten gold. It was as if the force within him was too powerful to be contained within his human form and now attempted escape. But he showed no sign of distress when Viktor examined him.

  “It is possible, I can confirm. It is not an easy feat to return but things are not quite what they once were.”

  Viktor peered into the darkness of the cave. Was Ziko waiting for him to move? “You were – dying, when I last saw you.”

  “Yes.”

  With one last look that Viktor could not interpret, Ziko entered the cave. Glancing around at a landscape alien and unrecognisable, Viktor sighed and then scurried after him, plunging onto the blackness of the cave. It took his eyes a few minutes to adjust, the sounds of their footsteps on stone and the distant drip of water so much louder for his lack of sight. It had him sticking close to Ziko’s side, growing more and more uncertain as they walked. Just what was he doing? Following a stranger into a cave in the middle of nowhere? His old self would never have been so stupid, having learned his lesson at a young age on the consequences of trusting others.

  “I, too, struggled with your question,” Ziko said suddenly, startling him. His voice was papery soft, nothing but the tickle of wind through the trees.

  “Er,” said Viktor, “which question was that?”

  A soft laugh. “You will see.”

  “See what?”

  “First, you must open your eyes.”

  Viktor frowned, so distracted that he did not pay attention to his footing. Tripping over loose stones, he hit the ground hard and tumbled. The ground gave way before him, the hard cut of stone slicing into his back as he continued falling. And falling. And falling. Until he collapsed in a heap on cold, cold ground. His head spun, his back throbbing with agony. The only thing he could see in the darkness was the blurry wisp of green flame as his body attempted to heal itself. Moonlight trickled in from a hole in the cavern above but the gloom remained.

  Then suddenly lights burst across his vision. It took a moment to work out which way was upright, groaning with pain as he hauled himself up by a smooth stone structure next to him. When the world sharpened into focus once more, his eyes widened in shock, falling over onto the block in front of him. A tablet. Much like the one in Nirket, with the carved symbols. They were alight with green the shade of phoenix fire. Four in each corner and one in the centre.

  And across the span of the wall around him were etchings of what appeared to be animals, lit in various colours. The one in green immediately drew his eye, to a huge bird with winds stretching out across the wall. He swore he saw them flap and he blinked, finding the bird settle once more upon the wall. Viktor was long past the stage of knowing what was reality and what was fiction.

  Beside the phoenix were three other creatures. One was a striped feline shape in white, much like the looming deathly shape he had faced in Tsellyr, that had nearly destroyed them all. The memory of its awful signature still plagued him, shuddering at being lost in the fog of utter nothingness. When he had felt, saw, tasted absolute darkness.

  The others were a black serpent type creature, coiling in rings with sharp fangs, little more than glitter in the darkness, and a large blue dragon with jagged wings and a pointed tail. Viktor did not recognise them, or what they were supposed to represent, but it made him shiver to know that there were other creatures out there. Riftspawn as powerful and godly as the phoenix. Who knew where they hid, or whether they might come to surface. The phoenix inside thrashed as he gazed upon them and he caught brief flashes before his lids, of another world. Colours. White. Black. Blue. Streaks of power vibrating through him. The fight and the fury.

  “Do you understand?”

  Viktor jumped, a noise falling past his lips. He had forgotten about Ziko. “Understand what
?”

  Ziko descended the stairs easily, eyes upon the depictions. “I cannot see many things anymore but I see these. The guardians.”

  “The guardians.”

  “They are the guardians of the realm doors. The strongest creatures in the otherworld. Once upon a time they were considered gods in these lands. Where we stand was once an ancient shrine.”

  Viktor continued to stare at the shimmering forms, beads of light joining together like constellations in the night sky. “The other me... he considers himself a god, I think.”

  “And you?”

  Viktor wheeled on him, unable to suppress his anger any longer. “What about you? What do you think? You should have died but here you are, looking all creepy and pasty like a demon that’s just crawled up from Var Kunir’s Locker. You’re standing there judging me but why am I the one that’s being picked apart, huh?” The green flames around him flared stronger, the force rushing through him.

  Ziko stared at him for so long Viktor thought he had frozen over. Then he released a breath, shaking his head. “I mean no judgement. I told you, I have been where you are, trying to determine my place in this world. We are kindred souls, you and I. In this way, I suppose I just wanted to help you.”

  There is no helping the arrogance of the phoenix.

  Viktor blinked as that fox-like creature appeared before him again. With the mask obscuring its facial features beyond two bright burning red eyes, it creeped him out. Or perhaps it was the phoenix’s dislike. It wanted to crush this insolent creature and it was hard to resist those arguments when its feelings bled through into his.

  “What do you know, then? About me.”

  You are the current bondmate of the phoenix, one of the great guardians of the Freelands. It flicked its tails and the three flames snuffed out at once. Viktor did not know why, but it felt much darker in the cavern. In times gone past this power made you a king of this realm. Hm, no, perhaps a god is most accurate as much as it pains me to say. Humans worshipped the phoenix in the hope that it would maintain balance and peace over the realms. Some humans also desired the chance for immortal life, if you would care to truly call it that.