The Reaping Season

by Sarah Stirling

  Swinging out the blades strapped to her back, Rook held them up in front of her as her eyes flashed with that familiar silver light. “I need to lure it out. Right now it’s connected to the village itself. I can’t fight an entire village, as tempted as I might be.”

  Kilai narrowed her eyes. “But Janus isn’t here to – no. No. I’m not being the bait. I’m not doing it.”

  “I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

  “I know you don’t want it to happen but can you actually stop it?”

  She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. Rook flinched, expression shuttering, and then she nodded. “You’re right. It’s fine. Wait here.”

  “Rook,” she called to the woman’s vanishing back. “Rook!” Kilai cursed and took after her, sprinting back towards the cluster of homes. “Will you slow down?” Her foot caught on a ragged scrap of her skirt and she stumbled to a stop, looking around. The sudden hush was eerie and she felt her muscles tense in anticipation.

  For a long beat of silence nothing happened and her breath began to come in heavier bursts, feeling almost breathless from the swelling tension. There was nowhere to hide here, unless she broke into one of the village homes, but she didn’t really know what she was supposed to be hiding from. Deciding the best thing to do was to meet up with Rook, she made her way slowly through the row of houses.

  A soft chiming noise startled her and she turned to stare at the spirit chime dangling above a door, swirling pieces of glass and shell fighting the wind. The wind? Kilai frowned, licking a finger and holding it up to the air. There was barely a breeze. The chime shouldn’t have been moving at all and yet it churned through the air, the fragmented melody growing in volume until it filled her head. Overwhelmed, she took a few shaky steps backwards. “Rook?”

  A hand wrapped around her upper arm and yanked her into the wall of a building, hiding them under the shelter of the overhang as more tiles crashed to the ground in a cloud of dust. Kilai coughed, wiping at her eyes, and heaved a sigh of relief. She could hear Rook breathing in her ear as they waited for the dust to clear, all going still once again. Rook stepped out to her side with a distant look in her eyes. Kilai felt lost. How did one go about fighting a sentient village? She didn’t think there was any kind of protocol for that.

  Suddenly the door next to them creaked open and she found herself clutching the roughspun cloth of Rook’s shirt, heart pounding. Nothing came through, leaving her trembling with tension. Not knowing was the worst of it. Despite herself, she craned her head to peer in but all was dark. The door swung closed again and she barely managed to throw herself out of its reach, skirts catching in the frame. From the ground she looked up at Rook with wide eyes. “I regret agreeing to this.”

  Rook snorted. “I don’t know. This is pretty intriguing.”

  Kilai fixed her with a glare and she shrugged in response. Her hand extended out, a smile on her face as she lifted Kilai off the ground with ease, both pausing to catch their breath.

  The temporary peace did not last for long. Shrieking cries pierced the stillness of the village and then a small form galloped into view. It was a young girl, stumbling on her pudgy limbs as she ran with her head cast back. When her head turned her eyes were round with fear and her cheeks stained with tears. Her foot caught and she collapsed in a heap in the dirt, coiling into a ball as she shuddered with sobs, and Kilai’s heart lurched.

  Rook jumped from the wooden landing down to the ground before Kilai could form a protest and ran towards the girl. “Shh. Shhh,” she soothed, rubbing the child’s back as she formed a protective stance over her. The girl remained curled up.

  A dark thought invaded Kilai’s mind and she bit her lip, fear taking over. She tore towards them, gasping out, “Rook, what if she’s...” Her hand flailed in place of the words.

  “She’s not. I can tell.”

  Kilai nodded. “What are you going to do?”

  “I need you to watch her for me. I’m going to call the creature out.”

  “Can you do that? Won’t it drain you?”

  Rook pushed back the thicket of hair that had fallen from her braid, now barely a braid but a ribbon tangled in her tresses. “My wound is mostly healed. I can manage.”

  “Don’t be stupid.”

  Launching herself to her feet, she said, “I won’t.”

  Kilai watched Rook bound into the centre of the ring of homes, blades poised before her. Beneath her hand, the little girl’s shoulders still shook and she tried to keep her voice calm as she murmured words of assurance to her, eyes still on her friend. Rook stood motionless, chin raised to the sky, and she wondered if there was some kind of communication going on that she couldn’t feel. It was unsettling to know there was another realm that she couldn’t experience; that so many things were going on in front of her that she just couldn’t see. It made her feel inadequate in some way, like she was lacking.

  “Come on, then!” called Rook, spreading her arms out wide. “Come out!”

  The girl’s head darted up, big eyes peeking out from her arm.

  “Come out!” This time Rook’s voice dropped a pitch lower, an unnatural tone lurking beneath.

  As if the village was sucking in a breath, the circle of houses drew in on the centre of the clearing, roof tiles sliding off and wood splintering as they surged towards them. Glass shattered, flying in their direction, and Kilai dived over the girl, burying her head down between her arms to protect her face. The earth shook beneath them as the wind picked up, whistling through the disjointed eaves. Words started to take shape from the deep bass of the rumbling, but they were in a language Kilai could not understand. Something about the crackling and the clicking was so terrible that it struck a chord of fear deep within her. Her grip tightened on the girl beneath her.

  “Show yourself!”

  When Kilai dared to look, Rook was still standing tall, her eyes shining bright like two stars within the depths of the darkness. A shrill caw erupted from her mouth, the power of the sound shaking her entire body, and then the buildings were thrust backwards until they slouched close to their normal positions, some now lopsided with the force. The lights went out and thrust them back into darkness. Kilai squinted but she could barely make out what was happening.

  “Show yourself, reidon!”

  Ghostly flames flickered out of the corner of Kilai’s eye and then she saw it: a tall, hunched bipedal creature with violet eyes and horns that protruded from its furry head. It emanated a soft glow of the same shade as its eyes, surrounding it in a mysterious aura that only made it look even more like something from a storybook her father might have read to her as a child. Fingers dug into the meat of her arm but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the creature in front of her to comfort the little girl. Its fox-like snout opened in a snarl to reveal rows and rows of needle-like teeth.

  Rook grinned. “That’s more like it.” The flash of steel caught the pulsing violet light. “I’ll even let you make the first move.”

  The creature released a hair-raising cry like that of a fox and lunged forward in a blur, swiping with clawed hands. Rook ducked out of the way and slashed across its middle with both of her riftblades crossing over one another, but the creature was nimble, darting out of their path in a streak of violet light. Before Kilai could even register movement, it had evaded Rook and tore off in their direction, pouncing upon them in a blink. She grabbed the girl and hauled her to her feet.

  “Run! Run, now!”

  She dragged the girl with her and pulled them into the nearest doorway, slamming the door shut with a resounding bang. Breathing hard, she pressed up against the wall, mind a flurry of panic. All she could think was that she didn’t know how to handle this. She regretted choosing to come here. She could have stayed where life was comfortable. Where she knew what was expected of her.

  Suddenly the wood began to glow violet around her and she jerked back, a yelp escaping her lips. They could get through doors! These strange c
reatures weren’t confined by the same laws as she was. It was something she kept forgetting; simply could not wrap her mind around.

  “Get behind me.” She thrust the girl back. “Find some sort of weapon.”

  “Go!” she cried when the girl didn’t move. She heard the patter of feet against creaky floorboards. A clawed hand was drifting through the door, pieces of wood morphing with the ghostly essence of the riftspawn to create a new kind of monster.

  She felt cold metal against her hand and nearly jerked away until she remembered what she had asked for. Not even looking to see what it was, she swung at the hand, savouring the crunch of wooden bones, and the piercing cry it emitted. Sometimes the only way out of something was to bludgeon it. Of course, she knew it wouldn’t last. The hand hooked around the metal until it, too, began to glow, and Kilai flung herself back, curses falling from her mouth.

  The door rattled, shaking the entire room. Kilai braced herself as more cries rang out, the shrieking so high-pitched it was painful to her ears. She pressed her hands to her ears to muffle the sound, wincing. Muffled thumps and the caw of a bird echoed through the splintered door. Then suddenly everything went still. She stole a glance at her companion, frozen in fear behind her. She took a tentative step forward.

  The door swung open and in the frame stood Rook, sweeping back her hair. She sheathed her blades and smiled, opening her mouth as if to speak. Then the smile dropped from her face, her eyes rolled, and her whole body crumpled in on itself. Kilai rushed forward, crying out her name. Cradling her head, she checked for bumps and confirmed that nothing felt swollen. She placed her head onto her lap, feeling her breath evening out in relief. Rook had saved them, and in doing so, had pushed herself too far. Again.

  “I told you not to do anything stupid,” she said with a sigh, looking to the black sky. She turned and snapped her fingers at the girl. “You, help me drag her inside.”

  The girl scrambled forward.

  They would have to stay put for the night. Even if it meant losing Viktor’s trail, they would have to wait until Rook had recovered to go on.

  *

  When Viktor blinked through the fog of his mind it took a few moments for his vision to clear. His head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton and his tongue was dry, plastered to the roof of his mouth. An attempt to sit up sent the room spinning and he clutched at his head with a groan, pain flaring in his abdomen. Everything felt like too much, head swimming, and he grasped frantically at the wood between his fingers to try and ground himself, the rough grain against skin giving him something to focus on. Wood. He took a deep breath and looked around.

  Confusion was the first feeling to ripple through him. He was lying down on a rough blanket in the back of what looked to be a wagon, canvas sheets fluttering as they trundled along a path. A sandy substance cascaded from his hair and he scratched at his itching scalp, a sneeze catching him unaware. By the looks of the bags surrounding him, he had been resting his head on a parcel of some exotic spice, the rich aromas pungent enough to mask the faint musk of animal beneath. Viktor frowned. He had no idea where he was or he how he had come to be there.

  When he attempted to crawl towards the crack of light spilling from the fold in the canvas, pain speared through him and he grunted, clutching at his side with a gasping breath. Memories spilled from the dusty vestiges of his mind; of the rift; the monster; the strange green fire that had sprung from within him, as natural and easy as breathing. He had destroyed a warship and even healed himself, somehow. He had glimpsed flashes of a life he had once known and could now barely remember, but the fractured reflection of his own face in dirty glass remained.

  Viktor lifted his shirt and grimaced as his fingers brushed over the white cloth stained brown with dried blood. His blood. When he prised the bandage off, the wound was crusted and raw, marking the hole where he had been shot. Shot, and by Janus’ own gun. It triggered an echo of the cold shock at being stared down by the gun’s eye and the sheer disbelief that a man he had thought a friend had turned on him. But for what reason? And why couldn’t he heal? Try as he might to recall the feelings that had sparked flames from his fingertips, he couldn’t grasp the connection, weak and clumsy as a newborn faun.

  With careful movements, Viktor managed to drag himself to the flap and peek out into the bright light of a milky sky. The cart was trundling along a dirt path in the midst of an open plain, mountains to the east dusted with the faintest sprinkling of snow. Wheels squeaked beneath him, in need of a coat of oil, and in the light of day he could see how tatty the cloth was, stained with dirt and grime, ripped at the edges.

  No clearer on where he was or what had happened, Viktor ducked back inside, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the gloom inside. He could hear the stomping of hooves on the ground and turned towards the front of the cart. Who was driving? Where were they taking him? Had Janus tried to sell him off when he had discovered the strange power he possessed? Viktor could only imagine the sort of person who would try to buy that kind of power. Anger flared in him then, a well-worn comfort in the midst of such distress. How dare Janus do this? When he got his hands on him again he was going to –

  “You’re awake.” A head pushed through the flap at the front of the cart. A pair of familiar dark eyes on a drawn, pale face found him.

  “What-why-what are you doing with me?” he exclaimed, lunging only for his injury to flare up. He doubled over in agony. Hissing through his teeth, Viktor fixed Janus with the darkest glare he could summon. “You shot me!”

  “I shot you.”

  “You just-just shot me! How could you just–” he was interrupted by a hacking cough. Viktor shivered, sweat beading at his temples.

  “Had my reasons.”

  The complete lack of guilt on Janus’ face was merely fuel for the fire. Pushing past the pain, Viktor dove for Janus, latching onto the collar of his jacket and pulling him in so he could smack him across the face. With easy movements, Janus ducked out of the way and then grabbed his arm, twisting it behind him until white hot heat seared down his shoulder. A snarl rumbled up from his throat, thrashing in the vice of his grasp. Janus was a clever fighter, there was no denying it. Far superior to Viktor.

  But Viktor hadn’t grown up scrapping on the streets to go down easy. His fury surged with a guttural roar, and he kicked out at the man behind him, fingers clawing at skin. The closer he came to that euphoric feeling the more frenetic his actions became, a warmth blooming deep inside his chest. “I’ll get you for this!” he yelled, crashing his head into Janus and hearing the echoing crack of skull against skull.

  “Viktor, stop. You’ll tear open your wound.”

  Viktor was beyond hearing anything. He was close to breaking through the layer of fog in his mind, obscuring his view of the world beyond. The threads of the otherworld called out to him and he burrowed down deeper into his anger in response. Betrayal. He could take a lot but he couldn’t stand the taste of betrayal from someone he had dared to trust. The voice in his head spurred him on; told him to burn anyone who wronged him. Burn them all. Turn them to ash.

  With a cry he wrenched his arm from Janus’ grip and twisted, a hand of green fire swinging for the man’s face. He savoured the widening of Janus’ eyes as he raised his arms to cover his face, launching himself out of the way. Not fast enough. Steam flared from his hand against white skin, flesh bubbling beneath the crackle of his fire. It felt good. It felt right. It felt familiar, in a way he couldn’t quite place; the ghost of a sensation the brain insisted had been experienced before.

  “Didn’t want this,” Janus grunted through gritted teeth.

  Before Viktor could react he lashed out, the quick strike of a viper, and fingers dug into the raw flesh of his wound. Viktor screamed, vision whiting out. He could feel fingers burrowing into his abdomen, right to the core of his pain. His hands scrambled at the man before him but he couldn’t find purchase. Janus found the bullet still buried in his stomach and twisted.

  In
an instant he blacked out.

  *

  Rook awoke to the fragrant scent of tea. Stomach gurgling, she sat up in the hammock she had been sleeping in, swaying precariously in surprise. She attempted to swing her legs to the ground only to miscalculate how weak her body was, tumbling to the ground with a groan. For a moment she simply lay there, willing her body back to life.

  “Oh, you’re awake.”

  Peeking through the frame of her hair she saw Kilai walk towards her, holding out a hand to help her up. “Come on,” she said, “you’ll need to eat something.”

  Rook grasped the proffered hand and wobbled to her feet. “Where is the little girl?”

  “This way. Follow me.”

  Kilai led her out of the small bedroom and into a sitting room, where the little girl and an older woman were seated around a wooden table. One of the legs was propped up by a book and in the middle was a steaming plate of shyllro, a type of flatbread topped with a rich spicy sauce and goat’s meat. Rook’s stomach grumbled again and she grinned sheepishly when both heads turned to stare at her.

  The older woman rose, gesturing to a chair. “Sit, please.” Her eyes darted around the room warily and Rook noticed that from her perspective it looked lop-sided, chunks of rubble collected in piles to the corners of the room. A hole in the ceiling had been patched over with rags of some kind of cloth but cool air still wafted from the cracks.

  “I’m sorry about your home,” she said as she took a chair.

  The woman shook her head. “It has been a time since I called it home. Are you hungry? You must be hungry. Please, eat.”

  Part of her urged herself to resist out of courtesy but her body protested, stomach whining. Her battle with the malicious riftspawn that had plagued the village had completely drained her and she needed to recuperate. Before she could stop herself, her hand snapped out to snatch up pieces of flatbread dripping with sauce and cram them into her mouth. She hummed a sigh of relief as the food went down, hot and pleasant, before stuffing more into her mouth. They were sprinkled with some kind of green herb that made her tongue tingle and she could barely get enough fast enough, chomping down with zeal as crumbs flew everywhere.