Jenya lunged forward so quick she was nothing but a blue blur. Viktor sprayed green flame in an arc but he couldn’t keep up with her movements. Stealing a broken branch from the ground, she wheeled it around with the deftness of her staff, cracking him across the head and then jabbing him in the gut. Ziko sucked in a deep, aching breath, summoning as much spiritual energy into himself as he could, and then as she spun for him he exhaled all at once. His breath released in a powerful gust, knocking her backwards. The wind carried on, ripping into the trees until they tumbled into one another with hideous shrieks. Ziko kept his palm aloft until the last shuddering zephyrs faded.
Viktor straightened out and hobbled to his side, the two of them standing abreast like the statues of the Pillars guarding the entrance to the Netherworld. Perhaps Ziko was the guardian of the Netherworld now, because what else could that mysterious final realm be but the shifting lands he had traversed to find Niks? The land of infinite possibility. The place he had been taught to aim for all his life. The Freelands. Now he had earned his place amongst the Pillars and no one could take it from him.
His hand sparked and crackled. “Remember your folly when I send you on your way to the Netherworld. You can dwell on your righteousness there.”
“Stop it!” Samker darted in between them, arms splayed wide. His face was a blur except for his eyes – big and wide and dark. “Please, stop this! You don’t need to fight like this.”
“I wish we didn’t,” he said, “but sometimes people do not see eye to eye.”
Samker straightened to his full height, taller than either Ziko or Viktor. Even with it he looked a child, face still round with puppy fat and voice trembling. “I am sorry that I hurt you. I didn’t mean to… to do that. I didn’t know it would happen. But I won’t let you hurt her.”
“Samker-wei, please. I do not resent you for what happened, nor do I wish to hurt you. We stand here in defence of our very being, for the hypocrisy that your master may carry the bond but neither of us are allowed. Apparently.”
Samker squeezed his eyes shut, a shudder running through him. “No, I can’t. I can’t.”
Ziko felt it. One moment his senses were alight with the rampant energy all around him, the pulse of the rift so strong he felt it in his blood. The next everything went cold. Niks was gone. A bone deep fear gnawed a hole in his gut and he stared at his plain hands in shock, fingers running over the calluses gleaned in the life of an ordinary soldier. It was a terror like no other. Like having every sense cut off all at once.
Niks? Niks!
She was gone.
Jenya picked herself up from the ground, holding onto the tree branch. Ziko was too numb to care, the shock leaving him cold and bare. Without his sixth sense, he truly felt blind, the world distorted and obscured from his view. He had to get the boy to release his hold over them. He couldn’t do anything like this. His body still remembered the way it had felt as he had worn away into nothing and it began to quiver. It felt like being trapped out in the middle of the ocean, unable to draw breath as the waves swept over his head.
Spinning the tree branch, Jenya made a move towards him. A spectre of Niks in his head jolted him into action, remembering how to fight without powers. But unable to follow her movements and without a weapon, there was little he could do. Step after step, he retreated from her prowling form, brain scrambling for what to do. If he could just get by her he could use Samker as leverage. The boy couldn’t stop the link between the rift and the physical world forever – soon he would wear out. He just had to hold on until then.
Only it turned out he didn’t have to. With a guttural yell, Viktor ducked beneath the sweeping branch and swung with his fist. The crack of bone against bone was jarring, ringing out in the silence that had fallen. Before Jenya could even react, Viktor lunged again and then again, exhaling laboured grunts with every swing of his arm. His words began as mumbling beneath his breath, voice rising steadily in volume.
“I’m not a monster! I’m not a monster!”
Ziko halted, a chill sweeping over him. Viktor’s voice became taut with emotion, like he might have started to cry. Still he continued to hit, until both Ziko and Samker surged forwards at the same time to drag him away, hands and feet kicking out wildly. This close he could see the shine of tear tracts on his cheeks and the strained lines on Samker’s face.
“Jenya, are you all right?”
She swatted him away, swaying when she sat up, patches of red and purple marring the white of her face.
Viktor snarled, snapping forwards, but Ziko tightened his grip on his wrist and yanked him back. “Hush,” he murmured into his ear. “It’s over. We should leave.” Then louder, he said, “Release your hold on us and I will take him away. Do not try to stop us or I will not show mercy this time.”
Samker whimpered. Clearly it was taking its toll on the boy.
Ziko stepped until he could rest a hand upon his shoulder, feeling the muscle lock up beneath his grasp. “There is nothing to fear, Samker. If you let it in – if you accept who you really are – it will not hurt anymore. Stop fighting it so hard and find your inner peace.”
The moment that power rushed back into him Ziko nearly wept with the relief. “Take care of your mentor,” he said and then he turned, dragging a wooden Viktor from the clearing before either of them could make a move to stop him. He did not stop to check Jenya’s wounds; did not have time to risk empathy. Niks appeared in his vision, red eyes burning. You seem agitated.
I am fine.
Not stopping until they were so far away that the Riftkeeper’s signatures were spots on the distant horizon, Ziko released his hold on Viktor and continued walking. But no matter how far he walked he could not release the restless energy welling within. The fear had felt all too real, driven by the memories of being sightless, and Ziko’s hand still trembled when he lifted it up to his eyes. It was an icy cold shock, to learn just how fragile this power of his really was. To know that nothing he ever had was deemed to last. Ziko had not been born with the Judge’s blessing.
“I want to find some kind of balance,” came from behind him. Ziko did not turn, instead surveying a landscape scarred with the colours and currents of the otherworld. The Netherworld. The Freelands. “I don’t know how you managed to find such peace with yourself but I just can’t seem to – are you even listening to me?”
Ziko whirled, only seeing Viktor’s dark silhouette beneath the moonlight. “I do not know that I have found such a thing.”
“You do a lot better at keeping your composure than me.”
He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “There was little of me, before.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You – you were someone before. You had, hm, a sense of yourself. I, on the other hand, was nothing. Nothing but dust and sand, blown away by the wind.”
“You can’t have been nothing. No one is nothing.”
“I did not even have a name, truly. It was a sin for me to bear my own so I was given one belonging to one of our Pillars, to try and emulate. They are something like gods to us. They guide us and show us how we should live our lives. Do you understand, Viktor? There was nothing of me to cling to before this happened to me. This made me what I am. I’m not like you, who had Viktor to lose.”
Silence fell between them. The trees settled into their positions once more, only coloured a deep purple instead of a natural green and more cylindrical shaped rather than conical. The currents of spiritual energy settled into more natural rhythms, easing some of the alien tension coiling tight inside of him. He felt tired. Drained. Like he could sleep for an entire day and still not feel rested.
“Sometimes I want to hurt others like they hurt me.” Viktor’s voice was small when he spoke. Pillars save him, Ziko could not say he didn’t relate to that, even if the thought ashamed him. “I do not think it is entirely me but still I want it. I want others to know what it felt like to be weak and powerless. To know that fear.”
“That is only human, I think.”
“And here I thought you said we were more than that.”
Ziko snorted. “Perhaps I did.”
“I don’t want to be owned by this thing inside of me but I don’t know if I’m strong enough to fight it. It’s not like with you. It doesn’t talk. It just wants to burn things.”
Ziko nodded. “I can’t explain it but I think Niks found me because I needed her.” She stared back at him as he spoke, unmoving but for a twitch of her ears. “I needed someone to lend me the strength to find myself. And I know it’s been hard for you but I think maybe this will be good for you, too. You’re not a street urchin anymore, Viktor. You have become so much more.”
“I’m hardly a prince. Or a king. Or whatever.”
“The age of kings is past us, I think.”
Viktor raised his face to the sky, to the round bulging eye of the moon. “What does that mean for the rest of us?”
Humming a song he had once heard when he and Relkan had visited a tavern in Nirket, Ziko let the currents of the rift wash over him. So much pain, so much tragedy. So much change and so much doubt that had not changed at all. In the end he could only change so much. A young, lost boy who had run from his past could only get so far before some of it caught up to him. Before he was reminded that he had never been very impressive to begin with.
You and I are something different, Ziko. You and I can change everything.
The smile found him unbidden. Perhaps we can and perhaps we can’t.
Her answering growl rumbled in his mind and his smile spread wider.
“It means we find new ways. It means we learn and we grow and we adapt. We birth ourselves anew.”
“I’ve had enough talk of rebirth, thanks.”
Ziko laughed. “Perhaps you have. But still there is much to be said for starting again.” For Ziko had already died once. But to flesh and bone he had been reborn once more and that meant he had to seize his second life with all the muster he had to make the most of the time he had been gifted. Sending a quick prayer to the Pillars, Ziko found his humming picking up in volume, the song reaching a euphoric crescendo that the surrounding cicadas joined in with, until the rising symphony of the forest around them filled the mountainside with music.
Viktor looked around him. “This is all going to take some getting used to.”
Ziko simply smiled. “If things continue to change in this way, I’m not sure there will ever be enough stability to get used to anything.”
“Oh, joy. I just love being a human jam jar.”
His laughter echoed off the distant mountainside, carried by every bird and insect of the surrounding forest.
*
Kilai jerked awake. It took her a moment to realise why she had snapped to attention so suddenly when it was still dark outside, no light filtering in between the slats in the wood above. Then she heard voices from above, punctuated by heavy footsteps over her head. With an uneasy feeling in her gut she rolled out of her hammock and checked her companions, only to find both Ivor and Makku’s beds were empty. She sucked in a deep breath.
Pressing her knuckles against bloodshot eyes, she tiptoed past the slumbering sailors and up the stairs onto the deck. Before her head had breached the top level, a gust of freezing air hit her skin, gooseflesh racing down her arms. The voices grew in volume, one unmistakably belonging to that of Makku. Not just because he had a distinct way of stretching his voice out higher and higher as his sentences ran on, but because he was babbling in Myrish.
Cursing, Kilai flung herself up onto the desk, about to break into the middle of the crewmembers pressed around a wildly gesturing Makku when a hand wrapped around her mouth and another around her waist. She was yanked backwards. Stumbling, she crashed into a solid chest and struggled in a tight grip until a voice murmured into her ear, “Quieten down, will you? You’re about to turn us all into shark food. If we don’t freeze our bones off first.”
She wheeled on Ivor. “What is going on?”
Pressing a finger to his lips, Ivor glanced past the barrels to where two crewmembers were arguing amongst themselves. She couldn’t see Makku properly for their backs but she could hear his voice. “I don’t know what happened. Think they were trying to pick on him and he didn’t like that but now he’s gone and blown his cover.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “What in the Locker are we supposed to do? We’re stuck on a ship and we’re outnumbered. We’re miles and miles from land. We might as well jump overboard right now.”
“Steady on, now,” grunted Ivor, still gripping her wrist. “No need for those theatrics, is there?”
Kilai glared at him. “You were just standing here! Are you going to just let him suffer so you’ll be all right?”
“You really know nothing about what my life has been like up until now, do you?”
“I really don’t need your sob story right now, Ivor.” She glanced at the commotion. Another crewmember had joined them and the one on the starboard side whispered into his ear before he scampered off once more, below the decks. “They’re looking for us now.”
“How would you know that?”
“Because we arrived on this ship with him! They were already suspicious of us and now they know Makku doesn’t even speak Sonlin. Put the pieces together and what do you get?”
“I’m Sonlin.”
“Barely.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I knew there was something not right with you.”
Kilai froze at the third voice and turned around. Standing before them, flanked by two guards, Nyebi tilted her head with her hands hanging over the swords strapped to her sides. The fear stole Kilai’s words. There was nothing to say. There was no way to talk themselves out of this. How could they possibly attempt to explain why two foreigners and a bitter washed up soldier had sneaked their way onto a ship? If they knew about their ties to Kallan’s crew and what their actual purpose had been then Kilai was sure they would have been speared and tossed overboard by now.
“There is no need to resort to violence, Lieutenant Nyebi. I mean no harm to you or your men.”
A sword glinted in the faint moonlight before it appeared beneath her chin, the tip digging into her flesh just enough to draw blood. “I felt it. You are no soldier, are you? You do not belong to the Empire.”
“No.” Ivor turned to stare at her but there was no use in lying now. “But I meant what I said.”
“Imposters!” Nyebi’s voice rang out loud and clear.
Ivor cursed. As they were quickly engulfed by a ring of cold faced sailors, he leaned in and said, “Do you know what you’re doing?”
Kilai spared him a glance. Sweat dripped down his temples, fingers twitching and eyes darting from place to place. He appeared to be hanging by a few loose stitches; it was best not to unravel him now. Pushing down the panic that threatened to consume her, she murmured, “Yes.”
Sometimes ignorance was bliss.
Nyebi’s sword never left her throat, a piercing reminder of just how precarious the situation now was. A literal knife edge and she would be the first to feel it, whichever side it fell. Kilai couldn’t move her head but she heard Makku’s voice as Nyebi prodded them into the ring of sailors, Ivor bumping into her other side. A string of babbled words fell from his mouth, a mix of Myrish and garbled Sonlin, all of it curses. For the two of them she had to keep her composure. For Kallan and the lives of her crew, who would have died in vain if she did not complete their mission. She had to keep them alive.
The crowd parted and Captain Gerad marched through, his mouth twisted into an unhappy line. The lines on his face doubled when he frowned, seeming all the older yet every bit as commanding as he stared them down in silence for what felt like an eternity. Kilai kept his gaze even as her gut churned. Around them the ocean tuned into her movements, waves growing stronger with every passing second and a vicious wind picking up from the south. She swore her heartbeat could be heard o
ver the water slapping against the ship below.
“It would appear you have lied to us.”
“Our intentions were not to lie to you.” She scrambled to think of a suitable explanation but her mind had emptied of all thought except for a screaming klaxon that signalled a warning. Her thoughts looped on the glint of metal beneath her chin and the way several sailors’ hands went to their belts where pistols and cutlasses were strapped.
“And yet.”
“And yet.”
Ivor’s hand wrapped around her bicep. It shook, even as his blunt nails carved gouges into her skin through the cloth of her oversized coat. Gritting her teeth, she opened her mouth to say something – anything – when a sudden wave knocked her into him. Ivor caught her and nudged her back to her feet, his face so ashen he might as well have been a spectre haunting the ship. Her throat stung where it had been nicked by Nyebi’s sword.
“Do not play games with me,” growled the captain, drawing his pistol. “Or you will regret it very quickly. Now, tell me who you really are.”
It was not the first time Kilai had stared down the barrel of a gun but she had rather hoped it had been the last. It certainly did not get any easier, her mouth dry and her knees buckling until she caught herself with a hand on Ivor and Makku to keep her steady. Nogan’s vial burned a hole in her pocket.
Captain Gerad fired a shot into the sky. Makku yelped, jerking back and yanking Kilai with him. Ivor growled, the sound feral. Despite the situation Kilai paused to take a proper look at him, but he did not seem to register her gaze, whole body poised as if for battle. How he thought he could fight his way out when they were this outnumbered was beyond her. She feared he would do something reckless that would endanger their chances of survival.
“Tell me who you are or make no mistake – I will kill you.”
“We are looking to make a new start on the continent,” she blurted. “There is nothing on these islands for us. We heard there were more opportunities in the Empire so we decided to see for ourselves.”
The Rising Tide Page 36
