“You will not be welcomed back here,” said Tokkar, so quietly she almost missed his words.
“I know.”
“But I think it might be too late for you to turn back.”
“I know.”
The bear huffed into camp, stone huts with conical thatched roofs cropping out from the frozen tundra. They were built upon an outcropping where the land flattened out, mountains veering off into the distance in a blur of snow dusted rock and fog. The white haze swirled around their feet as Rook plunged into a thick layer of snow, legs stiff with riding. Her breath fanned out in front of her, the chill seeping past the layers of her furs and leathers. Something about the cold felt refreshing, like after slogging through the muggy heat of the north she was finally awake.
Her boots crunched through the snow, sounding so much louder to her ears than it probably was in reality. Everything looked just as she had left it; each stone hut she passed carrying memories from her youth. Some of those memories she had long tried to repress and she struggled against the tide of them now, remembering her first hazy days under the bind of The Rook. How it felt to carry another inside her mind. How unsettled she had felt with an alien presence knocking into all her thoughts, sending her clarity scattering. Every step had been wrong, then. Every step had felt like someone else’s, rather than her own.
And yet. She hadn’t realised until she had become one herself, how much she loathed the beserker culture. She hadn’t realised until she learned the sharing of a mind, how alienated she had been in her own home. If you and I had never met, do you think I would still be here, blindly following his every word?
The Rook cawed but she could not comprehend the sentiment. It was laced with defiance but to whom it was directed she could not discern, whether that be her for chaining it up to her moral compass, or whether it be her father and those of her tribe and what they had started with the invitation ritual. Still, there was no use in getting concerned over it. Her life had changed that day and she had never once looked back. Rook was Rook because she had met her companion. To go back now would be to erase that completely.
In a village such as this one they could sense her before they saw her. Rook could feel myriad signatures burrowing past her senses and nestling into hers, some familiar and some new. Faces peeked out of windows, some even opening their doors to stare out at the returned warrior. Rook kept her chin high, waving at a young boy peering past his mother’s legs. Koki. That was her name. The girl with long jet black hair down to her waist looked a little older but still recognisable and the little boy must have been the child she had cradled in her arms before Rook had left for the Order.
When she came upon a hut she recognised all too well, Rook stopped short with a small gasp. It was no different to the others, made of the same huge slabs of stone and thatched roof, her family’s characters scratched into a plate above the door. Her stomach flipped, The Rook pushing power through the bond in response to her ramping tension. It thought it was time for battle and Rook wasn’t sure that the riftspawn was wrong.
“Are you going to keep standing there?”
“He won’t be in there anyway, will he?” she managed, voice hoarse. “He will be in the council hut.”
Tokkar felt more like a prison guard than a companion. In many ways, she supposed that was what he was to her now. His fingers curled around her bicep, pressing hard enough to be felt through the thick layers of her clothes. The pain grounded her, reminding her that she had not come all this way to simply dwell on the past. Rook did not believe in such things. She had chosen to walk away and she would never show any shame for that decision. It did not change the desire ripping through her to look back. To see if her mother watched from the window. If her cousins remembered her, as young as they had been when she had walked away.
Through the scattering of homes she trudged, heart growing heavier with every step she took. It had been a mistake. She never should have returned. She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready to face him. To explain her decisions to him in a way that he might understand. By the time the long council building appeared, stone covered by slats of dark wood that made it so stark against the sprawling white landscape, Rook had just about given up her nerve. With every step her pace slowed until she dawdled before the door. He would not come out to greet her. No, she would have to come to him.
“Stop being such a coward.”
Rook turned to look at Tokkar, keeping her face blank. She cocked her head to the side, letting the smile ooze out slowly. “What’s that, Tokkar?” She took a step towards him, and then another, relishing the way he stiffened. “I, the one who walked away when all told me I was being a fool, am the coward? I, the one who is not afraid that my place is about to be usurped by the girl who used to beat me at every fight.”
“Not every fight,” he hissed, leaning into her space.
Rook blinked innocently. “If you say so.” She turned back to the building and released a hissing sigh. “Perhaps I am a coward. I am less afraid of that word than I used to be.”
Not waiting for Tokkar’s reaction, she pushed open the door and stepped inside, hit with the strong aroma of gökka tea. Her mouth watered. The leaves were difficult to come by on other islands and she had missed the burst of flavour, unaccustomed to the spicier teas favoured in the north. The hallway was empty, her footsteps creaking on the wooden floorboards. From somewhere further down its length she could hear voices, one significantly louder than the rest. There was a brief respite in conversation before it picked up again and she knew it was because they sensed her presence. She had forgotten what it had been like, to be unable to hide.
Stay with me, please.
Then she marched towards the door at the end of the corridor, mouth dry. Her hand slipped off the handle with sweat and she wiped it on her trousers with a grimace before shoving it open. Greeted with a round table of swivelling faces, Rook gulped beneath so many pairs of eyes, her own gaze falling upon the stark lines of her father’s face with the impending doom of a thrown object to the force of gravity. He looked as stern as the day she had left, some of the lines even more severe with the time missed.
Forcing the smile upon her face, Rook bowed at the waist and greeted the councillors. “Shaishei. Forgive me for disturbing your meeting. I, Rook ik Vinook, have returned to the clan for a brief visit and I wished to make my presence known to Chief Vinook. It is an honour to see you all once again and I must apologise for the state of my leaving. I will excuse myself and leave you to your discussions.” She bowed once more and whirled to leave when a voice called out.
“Wait, now. Come here, Rook-wei. It has been so long I have almost forgotten your face,” said Lekk, squinting through tiny eyes lost between the folds of his skin. His long white beard trailed upon the table, curling in on itself.
Poyak laughed. “It has not been that long. You must forgive him,” he said as an aside to Rook, “he is getting on in his years.”
“You can call me old. It is quite all right.”
The table laughed, apart from her father.
Rook shifted her weight, stealing glances at him as the conversation continued. She wanted to leave but it would be rude to simply walk out. Her father never met her eyes, staring at the opposite wall with his arms crossed upon the dark wood of the oval shaped table.
“Have you seen the errors of your ways, girl? Have you come back to us for good?”
Rook resisted the flinch but only just. “I am afraid I am not, Yukara-shai. I only intended to visit home while I am in this part of the world.”
The old woman tsked, shaking her head. Her white hair was braided in intricate patterns, looping through each other around her head. Rook followed the lines of the braids so that she did not have to make eye contact. Guilt bobbed to the surface of her thoughts, buoyed by their expectant looks and welcoming smiles. She shouldn’t feel guilty about a decision she did not regret but she did. How could she not, when she had lost her home in the process?
“This meeting has been derailed quite enough,” said Chief Haknor finally, his voice a rumbling bass that silenced the table at once. Grey eyes flickered to hers and she ignored the way her gut sank at the disdain within them. “You may take your leave now. We will converse after our business has concluded.”
“Very well. It really was nice to see you all again.” With a final bow Rook scampered off, relieved to steal back into the corridor so that she could breathe easy again. The deep, pounding drum of her father’s signature still vibrated in her chest. Rattled, The Rook cawed and fluttered, looking for a release of pent up energy. It wanted a fight.
“Believe me, that is not a fight you want to start.”
She stopped short as she turned the corner only to be greeted with the raised brow of Tokkar. “Who are you talking to?”
Rook tittered. “Oh, you know, just myself. Just sorting out my thoughts.”
“Of course you are.”
They exited to frigid air, all the colder after having thawed in the shelter of the council building. With a shiver Rook rubbed her hands together, watching her breath plume up into a dark and dreary sky. The smell of fresh pine was a comforting scent, after so long traversing the humid, salt-stricken climes of the north. Breathing it in, she turned to Tokkar with a small smile. The answering twitch of his lips looked more disconcerted than amiable.
“Shall I walk you home?”
“Am I actually a prisoner, then?”
“I don’t know, can you be trusted not to do anything stupid?”
Rook laughed. “Mm. No. Probably not.” A trail of riftspawn illuminated the nebulous sky beyond, silver and shining like a shoal of fish swimming through the clear coastal waters off the black cliffs of Nirket. “Take me to the rift.”
“What?”
“Take me to the rift.”
“I can’t take you to the rift.”
“Then I’ll go myself.”
His hand latched around her wrist and yanked her back. “Don’t even think about it. You’ll just get us both into trouble.”
But Rook was done following the orders of her father in the hope they would make him see her worth. With a twinkle in her eye, she grasped Tokkar’s wrist with just enough energy to sting. When he hissed and snatched his arm back she danced out into the knee deep snow, spinning in circles. “You’ll need to catch me, then.”
Tokkar growled, “Rook.”
The Rook was enjoying this little game. It wanted to see how fast she could run, if it augmented her strength with its own. Rook kind of wanted to know, too. There was work to be done. There were battles to fight, points to prove. But right now she just wanted to remember how it felt to tear through the snow, marking up that perfect white canvas with her own footprints.
*
Ziko recognised the signature instantly. With Viktor’s signature thrumming so loudly in the atmosphere it should have been impossible to feel anything else but his entire body stiffened at the first brush of a numb tickle against his senses. Chasing after it only sent the vibrations through him, scrambling his mind. It fizzled beneath his skin. Each time the connection between he and Niks faded his heart leaped from his chest, summoning her before him so he could verify that she was still there. Still with him.
It is that boy. He has returned.
Above the dancing trees a flash of green fire shot into the sky, followed by an angry yell. Ziko wanted to move but his feet refused to budge. Niks cocked her head to the side, watching him. Why do you not move? She must have felt it, the way his legs shook and the flashes across his eyelids of that hazy time between losing her and entering the otherworld. The way his body had fallen apart, deteriorating until there had been so little left of him he still wasn’t sure how he had managed to crawl so far.
You are afraid.
Yes, I am.
Her tails twitched. The three flames swirled around one another in a wheel of fire. You are stronger now. You must not fear what will come. A man such as you cannot predict the future but there will be no future at all for you if you shun it like a blind man.
“I am blind, effectively,” he said.
There was another streak of flame, followed by loud voices. The scent of spiritual energy surged out around the area beyond the trees, potent enough to tickle his nose. Ziko sneezed. It was stupid. He had died and entered the otherworld and come out reborn. There was nothing in this world he had left to fear. But the thought of losing Niks once more – to losing the identity that he had clawed out of nothing – was enough to halt him.
I am Ziko Rift-breaker, the last Storm Lord.
Ziko took a step forward, feeling the ground react. A soft golden light appeared beneath his foot; the riftspawn within startled by the sheer power he exuded. He took another step. And then another. All along the path he took his footsteps lit up and then faded once more, the frightened riftspawn settling down once he had passed them by. The energy building inside him filtered down through his arms, towards the outlet of his palms.
As if sensing his resolve, the trees skittered out of his way so that he could march into the clearing of flashing lights. A charcoal smell lingered in the air, residue from the amount of power Viktor expelled. But even so, the boy’s signature could be felt beneath it, intertwined with another’s. It was the older woman, dancing in the centre of the grass with Viktor, punches, kicks and hits interspersed with shots of green fire or blue light. She twirled a staff, aiming to strike his face, but Viktor grabbed it in his fist with a snarl and ripped it from her grasp, the shape melting beneath his palm before he tossed it away.
“Samker!” shouted the woman. “Samker, now!”
Across the way the boy stood in the shadows, wringing both of his hands as he surveyed the scene. Nervous. The boy was just as fearful as Ziko himself, if not more. That was fine. This would be a lot easier if he did not fight back. Ziko had no desire to hurt him.
The sky rumbled above, the pressure in the air rising as a familiar rush siphoned through him. Palm raised, Ziko walked calmly onto the makeshift battlefield, watching the Riftkeeper pause in her attacks to take heed of the lightning crackling in his hand. Viktor released another blast of fire from where he was crouched upon the ground and she only just managed to shield herself in a layer of blue energy, stumbling back at the force of it.
“Jenya!” cried the boy, running towards her.
Ziko gritted his teeth, his body reacting without permission to his signature. Maintaining his hold over the brewing storm, he reached his other hand out to Viktor who was sprawled on the ground, the grass parting where he sat as if to try and escape him. With a grunt, Viktor accepted his hand and dragged himself upright, wobbling for a moment before he settled. There was still lucidity in his eyes, even as they flashed with an unnatural green.
“You are abominations,” spat Jenya, spitting blood upon the ground. It dissolved into the swaying grass, the colour shifting to a soft shade of pink. “You should not be allowed to bear that much power.”
“What will you do about it?” said Viktor with a petulant smirk.
Ziko looked up, at the riftspawn circling above. So much energy rippled through the atmosphere that he thought it might break, if it could possibly get any worse than it already was. It was not a productive thought to have in a landscape such as this so he locked it away, focusing on the power swelling within.
“There is little you can do. You are faced with what you cannot possibly hope to fight. Perhaps you should learn when to walk away.”
Jenya pushed back the sleeve of her wrist to reveal the tattooed characters. “I swore an oath when I joined the Order. Those words used to mean something. They still mean something to me. I will not sit by as you continue to corrupt the purpose of our bonds for your own greed.”
“Then you know nothing about me,” he said.
“I didn’t chose this,” said Viktor. “I didn’t chose it but I have to live with it anyway.”
“Would it be better, if we were dead? That is what y
ou nearly did to me. If the only alternative was to kill both of us, would you do it?”
Jenya straightened, flicking her fingers in Samker’s direction. “Do not say you would not do the same, for the greater good.”
Before Samker could reach her, Ziko dropped his fist with a command sent from his mind: release. With a thundering boom, the lightning cracked between them, sparking off the ground so blinding white the others had to shield their eyes. Exhaling heavily, his eyes blazed when the smoke cleared and a thrill tickled his spine when she took a step back, her eyes wide and afraid.
“How do you think it would feel, to have the lightning strike you?” Ziko was already trickling more power through the bond, building up the pool of energy required to fuel the attack. “Do you think you would survive it?”
“That is exactly why I released you from your contract. You should never have been able to do that.”
He barked a laugh. Before him Niks shone, her white mask stark against the blazing moonlight. Two bright red eyes shone like brilliant rubies from within, her tails swishing. “You did nothing of the sort. You killed me!”
Viktor looked between them with a furrowed brow but the fire still danced in his hands and his eyes shone like beacons. His signature was so potent it threatened to overwhelm all of Ziko’s other senses. He looked like he was barely keeping control of himself, ready to break at any trigger.
Jenya closed her eyes. When she reopened them they shone a deep blue, her riftspawn’s aura flaring to life around her. Her powers appeared to involve enhancement of her strength and speed, rather than anything more long ranging like he and Viktor. Ziko’s eyes flicked to the ashen face of Samker, whose knees shook where he stood. It was sad to think that this boy was the real threat – the one Ziko really had to be weary of.
“You killed me but I rose from the dead. I rose, stronger than ever before. I have a god on my side. I have become a god. So stand aside or I will strike you down.”
The Rising Tide Page 35
