“I won’t let you take me! I am the Rift-Breaker and I will kill you before I let you capture me!”
The traces of a continental accent struck him then, the voice as harsh as a storm battering against a window. The golden hair and the eyes shining between the slits in the mask. It shouldn’t be possible, and yet. And yet, who else could it be but the soldier that had been at death’s doorstep, now a phantom from the otherworld come back to haunt him.
“Seeker, it’s me. Not going to hurt you,” he said, grasping for the man’s wrists. His fingers swiped through the flesh, turning skin to smoke. “Spoke before, remember? In the cells.”
The man reeled back, breathing hard. “That’s not my name.”
He really was possessed. Was he nothing more than a spirit wearing the man’s form? Had he died and the otherworld was really the realm of the dead? Janus had so many questions he did not know where to begin.
Rolling off him, the man stood and looked around himself. More words were said, muttered to a position some place left of Janus. He glanced in that direction but there was nothing there. After a whole conversation between himself and the invisible creature, he looked in Janus’ general direction. “Where am I?”
“Uh, Zyll Kunath monastery. Yuratsa.”
“I am on the Yllainyk.”
“Yes.”
“This is not where I expected to be.”
Janus scratched his head. It felt warm but he couldn’t feel any blood. He was probably fine. “Did you – through the rift?”
Seeker, or whatever name he went by now, stilled. “I was on the Yllaizlo. At the Ak Reisarth rift site, some ways from Tsellyr. I intended to go to the island off the coast of Nirket but when I tried to remember in the otherworld the thought kept slipping away. How did I end up here?”
“Been a lot of activity here lately. Could be something to do with it.”
Seeker muttered something to himself, pacing back and forth with the marble texture of the rift looming behind him. Then he stopped. “You sound familiar. I know you.”
“Back in the cells. Tsellyr. Research facility.”
“Ah.” When he turned his neck, gold lines were revealed that ran down the length of it. A set were also etched into the cheeks of his mask, shining when they caught the light. Triangle ears atop his head made his whole shape reminiscent of a fox. “You’re the Reaper.”
“Been called that before,” he conceded, tensing. His previous exploits should not be known to this man. Was it possible, for man to turn into spirit? Seeker possessed his own memories but that did not necessarily mean it was really him. He had no idea what it meant, that he gazed upon a man he had given up for dead. The dead did not rise again. That had always been the one solid truth in his life; the roots that bound him to the earth.
The world wasn’t supposed to fall apart, either, but somehow that seemed more explicable than this.
“Why do you look at me like that?”
Janus hesitated. Should he reveal the truth to him, would his reaction be containable? Seeker did not seem aware of his current state. Sweat gathered around the base of his gun and he considered testing the weapon before holstering it once more. Killing a man who had already died once seemed cruel even for him.
“Give me your arm.”
“What?”
Janus crooked two fingers, holding out his hand, and Seeker reached out with a slow, jerky movement until their fingers should have brushed. Only his fingers went through Janus’ hand and he yelped, reeling back with wild eyes, bringing his hand level with them.
“What was that?”
“Just came from the otherworld. You.”
Seeker was still turning his hand, expression eerily blank due to the mask covering his face. “Yes.”
“Only riftspawn enter the otherworld. The physical cannot enter a spiritual realm.”
The man cocked his head, nodding his head as if listening to a silent conversation. “What do you mean, no physical body? What does that make me? Us?”
A cold wave washed over Janus. There was something else, in there with the soldier he had met down in those cells. His hand lingered over his gun, eyes flickering over every movement of the figure before him. There was something ethereal about him, skin so pale it appeared to filter the light through it. Around him glowed the faintest golden light. With the dancing lights and colours behind him, he could almost be a classic painting of Lai Kusok, come to shine his light down upon the darkness of the evernight. Or so the tale went. In that moment Janus almost believed it.
“I appear to have mislaid my body,” he said. “The Riftkeepers! They have my body! We need to go back.” A beat. “No, no. How could it possibly get any worse?”
Janus rubbed at the swollen bump on his head. His fingers still came away dry. They drifted down to his cheek, the cut stinging at the touch of skin, and this time when he pulled them away his forefinger was streaked with red. Blood. His blood. It seemed that whatever was going on, Seeker was still able to exert some kind of force on the physical world, however limited.
“How did you enter the otherworld?”
Seeker kept mumbling to himself, gesturing with his hands as he paced. Suddenly he whirled, eyes like molten gold. “I was dying. Some instinct in the back of my head led me to the rift in Tsellyr. No, of course I didn’t know it would work. It was you, I was following the instincts you left me with. To return home.” His gaze flickered back and forth, streaks of lightning sparking between the movements. “I didn’t really think, I just jumped in. Then I was in a world very different to this one. I called out to you, that’s how you found me in there. But nothing makes sense.”
His head was beginning to throb but he couldn’t tell whether it was from the injury or trying to follow Seeker’s fragmented conversation. Although his ramblings were akin to that of a man in the witless house, he appeared so strong, so radiant, in contrast to the clear picture Janus held in his mind of a sickly soldier fading in his arms. That kind of change was prodigious. Reserved for stories and legend. Reserved for the epics about men who became gods. Janus remembered how he had commanded the storm on his fingertips, once upon a time.
“How long will it take to get back the human way?”
“Few days to get to Tsellyr at least, probably more. Another two to get to that shrine.”
“She doesn’t think we can wait that long.” His gaze dropped to the side. “You were the one who said going back in would destroy us. They have my body! I’m not even real anymore.”
So distracted by the situation, Janus didn’t hear footsteps until it was too late. “I felt something going wrong with the rift. I’m sure of – Janus?”
“What in the Locker is that?”
Janus glanced between Hika and Neyvik with a helpless shrug.
“What kind of riftspawn even is that?”
“Neyvik, I don’t think that’s –”
“Step aside, Janus. We need to get rid of it.”
Lightning crackled in Seeker’s palm. “I am not an it.”
“It speaks!”
Janus rubbed his brow. “He is a man. Was a man. Seeker is… in between.”
“I told you, that’s not my name.”
“Hold on a minute,” said Neyvik, shouldering past him so she could stare at Seeker up close, tilting her head to the left and then the right, brows furrowed together. “Uncanny. How can you speak like a man but give off the same energy as a riftspawn? What are you?”
The ball of lightning grew brighter between the cup of his hands. “I am Ziko Rift-breaker, the last Storm Lord.”
Neyvik reeled back, dark hair flying. Janus’ stomach did a strange flip.
“The last Storm Lord?”
“Ziko?”
His lips curled. “I believe someone told me it meant, hm, the respite after the storm. It is an appropriate name, I think.”
Janus mirrored his smile and dipped his head.
“The Storm Lords died out centuries ago,” said Hika. There was a
light in her eyes, scanning him over with a scientific kind of interest. “There has been no history of them since Hika the Valiant and her companions stabilised the rifts.”
“What can die can also be reborn. Just ask your companion. I died once and yet here I am.”
Neyvik cocked a brow. “Are you alive? I think I can see through you.”
“I am as alive as you are.”
Behind him the lights flared once more, colours blending into a blinding white. In the blink that Janus shielded his eyes a riftspawn appeared through the veil, more akin to what he was used to seeing pass through the door. It was a strange creature made of several joining segments in a deep blue, two claw-like appendages extending from each section of its body. Its insectoid head reared back, spiked tail swinging, and then it was diving for the centre of their congregation.
In a flash Janus was rolling away, revolver at the ready. Before he could squeeze the trigger Ziko brought the sparking ball up, burning brighter and brighter between his palms. The light emanated from his eerily translucent form, turning him into something ancient and terrible. Then just as quickly as he called it, he thrust outwards, shoving the ball of lightning into the blue riftspawn. It sparked and hummed, burning there for one breathtaking moment. Suddenly it exploded outwards in a crash of thunder and lightning, the creature ripping apart in sparks of blue and gold. A ghastly shriek pierced the air, fading into echoes as the last fragments of light faded, leaving Ziko triumphant before the rift in his halo of golden light.
He turned and Janus inhaled sharply. Reborn indeed. This man resembled the soldier he had known only superficially. Seeing him now, beset with the inner glow that all riftspawn possessed, hands still crackling with residue lightning, and the white mask obscuring the human features beneath, Janus could have believed him a god.
The ground rumbled beneath them, dust falling from the ceiling. Somewhere from within the walls a wailing started, growing louder and louder until the noise pounded against his eardrums. With her hands covering her eardrums, Neyvik jerked her chin in the direction of the walls. The amount of energy that had been channelled was upsetting the riftspawn within.
The monastery was now its domain. Once it settled it would be under the creature’s protection completely. Janus did not know what this meant for the rift still flaring within the walls but by all accounts it should have stabilised by now. Unless Ziko’s power had reopened it, causing the currents of energy flowing through to fragment and unravel once more.
Neyvik tensed when Ziko stepped towards one wall, pressing a palm to the surface until the exposed stone began to glow gold around his outstretched fingers. “There is a riftspawn trapped within these walls. It is not happy.”
Dust coated Neyvik’s dark hair. She shook it out with a grimace. “We know. Believe me.” Her gaze turned to Janus, brows raised as if to say, what do we do about this?
Janus shrugged and she scowled in response.
“Where are you from, Ziko-wei?” asked Hika. “How did you end up this way?”
“I am from nothing.” Humming to himself, Ziko pulled back from the wall and the trembling eased out. “When I lived on Nirket a riftspawn took interest in me. She began to haunt my dreams, both sleeping and awake. She finally convinced me to accept her and I have never looked back.”
“She convinced you?”
“Yes. Listen, I really must take my leave of you. I need to get back to my body before the Riftkeepers destroy it. Niks fears that entering the otherworld again will dissolve our consciousness completely.”
Hika and Neyvik stared at one another.
“It talks to you?”
“Entering the otherworld?”
Another voice added, “What of the Riftkeepers?”
All heads turned to Kardak, wheeling his chair into the room, gun resting on his lap. His eyes roamed the room, taking in Ziko’s form with his lips pressing tight together until the colour drained from them. “There’s a human shaped riftspawn standing right there,” he said. “Just in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“I am human. Mostly.” Ziko’s hand went to his masked face. “I was human. But I really must leave.” His exit was blocked by two rift maidens and a warden.
Kardak yanked the spectacles tucked into his pocket and slid them onto his face. “That mask… The Niks Kataema. You. How?”
“Think you broke him,” grunted Janus.
“You know Niks?”
“I read about it in a book on notable riftspawn. Scholars believed it far more intelligent than the average spirit but only observed limited interaction with the creature. The book contained a sketch of a mask much like that one that you wear.”
“Niks is not just a riftspawn. She is a god.”
This was met with a turgid silence, all parties sharing glances with one another. Janus himself might have laughed, had this conversation taken place a few months ago. Now, with the world in ruins and a man before him who had risen from the dead, traversed the realm of the spiritual, and summoned a storm under a roof, it was difficult to summon an argument. Could he really deny it by any definition? Considering Rook’s strength and speed, her ability to affect her surroundings. Considering Viktor’s flame and his memories of lives past. Where did the line between humanity and godhood lie?
“A little blasphemous, when you stand beneath the roof of an Illuminated monastery,” said Neyvik.
“I was not raised with your gods,” said Ziko, eyes narrowing. “Nor do I cling to the ones I was raised with. These days I trust what I experience for myself. So forgive me my ignorance but I accept no other god than those whose power I have known. Tell me when your sun king has ever come to save us from the cruelty and darkness of this world?” Ziko shook his head. “No, I think not.”
“You would call these creatures – these riftspawn – gods? Truly?”
“Yes. Now, I will see myself out of here. I must return to myself immediately.”
“Will struggle to get anywhere right now. City’s a mess. Everything in ruins.”
Ziko barely glanced at him. “I will find a way.”
“Can you not return to your body if you are nothing but spirit?” said Hika.
He paused. “I cannot feel it.”
No one seemed to know what to say after that, all staring at Ziko with various shades of consternation upon their faces. Finally, Janus wet his lips and spoke. “Will help you. Return to Tsellyr and beyond.”
“Why?”
Janus shrugged. “Was planning on leaving anyway.”
Neyvik whipped her head around. “Yeah, you know what? I’ll be glad to see the back of your sorry hide, Janus. I think you’ve been some terrible talisman for us here.”
He snorted. “Miss you, too.”
“Great. Now I’m going to have to round up all the girls in this maze of a madhouse just so they can say their goodbyes. Locker knows they’ll never let me see the end of it if I don’t.” With that she departed, a last lingering look upon Ziko on her way out.
Hika scampered after her, leaving the three men alone.
“Is it true that the Niks Kataema can speak in human tongues?” said Kardak, wheeling himself in a circle so he could follow them out of the exit.
“Yes, she can.” Ziko’s gait was odd. Almost as if his feet didn’t actually touch the ground. Janus tried not to stare. “She is quite fascinated by language.”
“That’s incredible. It shouldn’t be possible. I mean, Koka theorised it could be, in her book on her research done at the rift in Tsellyr, but to think… It changes a lot of things.”
“Lot of things have changed.”
Kardak gazed up at him, a thoughtful tilt to his chin. “I suppose we’re rediscovering the rules of this world as we go, hm?”
Ziko fell into step with his chair. “You are a Riftkeeper?”
He nodded. “A rift warden, yes. I initially planned to go into research but my bond with the Tork was accidental. It decided for me, in the end, but it didn’t change my interest. A c
ase like yours… I have poured over accounts from legends of old. No Riftkeeper that attempted the cross into the otherworld ever returned.”
“I have been there twice.”
Janus listened to their back and forth as they traversed the labyrinth of the monastery, passing the same room three times before they finally came upon the exit, into the shifting grasses of the spirit infested garden. The koi pond had disappeared, vaguely fish-shaped riftspawn swimming between the rolling waves of the long grass that shifted from green to blue to violet. When Ziko took a step onto its surface, the long fronds buzzed and sparked, bleeding into gold. The koi riftspawn changed direction, darting towards him until they were circling in his orbit, streaming streaks of orange and silver. Truly, the world had changed.
The world had changed and Ziko was a god of this new realm, it seemed.
“Janus!” He turned to see Hika dash towards him, dressed in a long winter coat lined with fur, boots and black trousers, a bag slung over her shoulder. Her breath came in short pants, dark hair streaming out behind her. “Take me with you.”
“Eh?”
“I wish to join you. Please. There is so much I can learn from him. You know I am no longer welcome here.” Her velvety antlers peeked from the tumble of her hair, a reminder of her experiments. Of the darkness she had brought upon them.
“I am no fool, you know. The others may not have realised but I have heard the whispers. He is the one who opened the rifts. The Rift Breaker.”
“I am,” said Ziko, chest puffing up.
As they waited for the carriage to take them to the harbour, Janus buried his hands in his pockets and listened to the two of them make conversation. There was still much to be done. Still a world to save. Perhaps that began with helping the man who held the power to make it or break it. With a sigh, he watched the laisok trundle up the path to the gate, iridescent coat shining. There would be some time, he thought, before he could rest. Eyes cresting over the masked spirit and the maiden ravaged by her dealings with the rift, then to the lurching monster of the monastery behind them, he found himself antsy to be on the road once again.
The Rising Tide Page 43
