The rain abated into a dribble, pattering against the massive leaves above. Contemplating mortality was something the Sonlin enjoyed, but Seeker personally found it morbid. He’d had the thoughts stamped out of him anyway, for the Pillars could not bring him to their hallowed halls if he dwelled on the beyond. Or so his father insisted.
“This creature was just as lost as I. I think our anguish called to one another. Before I knew it I could feel its pain. Such agonising suffering. Cold.” She quieted for another beat. “That night there was a storm. When the lightning struck us something changed. I think perhaps I called that storm myself, I was so upset over the poor fox.”
“And that made you – this?”
She nodded, an oddly human gesture. “I am like you too, Seeker. Neither one thing or another. I am the weak riftspawn and the dying fox and now I am the hapless soldier, too. That is what it means to be in my world. Nothing remains. Everything changes.”
Seeker tugged at his sodden shirt, skin prickling with the cool air settling in after the rain. “I know a little of change myself.”
The flash of the gold engravings on her mask looked like a smile. “We are nearly there.”
That would be the end of personal talk. That was fine. He had been given more than he had ever expected. He felt like he had learned something about the mysterious being he had partnered himself with, some inkling of what it was that had made her the way she was. There was still much he didn’t understand but he was confident he would learn with time. For now he could only follow her lead.
“There are men here,” he said. “They will not want you to succeed.”
Seeker clenched his fist. “Then we will have to move them.” Just like the rift back in Nirket, when that ragtag group had tried to prevent him from opening the rift. That boy had been the most startling of them – there was such power in him that he had felt even Niks tremble. He did not know how to feel about riftspawn more powerful than she was.
“It doesn’t feel quite as bad as the last one,” he said, feeling the pulse of energy spark the wind at his fingertips.
“No, the last rift was nearly fully opened already. I imagine this one may require a little more effort, I’m afraid.”
Seeker only nodded. As they crested the top of the slope they had been climbing, the trees thinned out to reveal just high they were. Land fell away for miles, the thick carpet of treetops rustling in the growing breeze. Far, far beyond that he caught a glimpse of pale blue water. The ocean. It was barely a strip of colour on the horizon line, biting into the muddy brown of the landmass that made up the Yllaizlo.
“Down by the water is the big city,” she said. “There is another rift there.”
Seeker blinked. “There is? There’s no mention of it on your map.”
She shook her head. “It is a well hidden secret. A secret that belonged to a powerful organisation of time’s past. But if you cast your senses out, you will feel it.”
Seeker didn’t think he could feel anything beyond the beacon that was the rift closest to them, overwhelming any other sensation. It tickled his mind and sent shivers through him, skin prickling in gooseflesh. The Tzem ka Dei rift. Guarded by rift wardens from the Order of the Riftkeepers, if they were still following their practices. Too many branches of their organisation had fallen by the wayside in the time since Sonlin had increased their stranglehold over the isles.
“I will take your word for it,” he said.
“Yes.” Pleasure rippled through their bond at being trusted so implicitly. “There are more important matters to be dealt with first.”
The stone path, overgrown with long reedy grass, packed mud, and rotten foliage, led them towards a stone archway. It was crumbling, stones in loose piles at the bottom, with little to keep the structure upright against the weather. Still it must have weathered time and season both, to have remained after all these years. For the Riftkeepers had been around longer than anyone could really know, with so many of their records lost or destroyed.
Seeker took a tentative step, and then a more assured one as he passed the archway with little fanfare, a gust tussling his hair. Up this high he could feel the raw force of it against his face but he turned towards the crisp air, welcoming the cool relief after his trek through the sticky jungle. The rift pounded in his head like a drumbeat, so much energy spilling from the tear between worlds. In the night sky, riftspawn in various shapes and sizes swirled through the air, some of the biggest of their number swallowing up the smaller blimps of colour and flaring brighter against the dark.
Continuing along the path, he came across a marble tablet in front of a small stone cottage, the design of the tablet much like the one in the small island off of the coast of Nirket. It was also carved from pale stone with veins running through it, although he could not tell the colour in the muted light from the moon’s paltry attempts to escape the cloud cover. Five symbols were etched into the stone, his fingers running over them in wonder. Above the air shimmered. The rift.
“What do the symbols mean?” he asked.
Niks cocked her head, tails swishing to and fro. “I do not know much of the scribbles from your world. Should you not know your own history?”
When he arched a brow she made a sound like a sigh, morphing into a breeze that stirred the debris on the ground, twigs and leaves drawn into the air. “There are five. For the five guardians, I would suppose.”
“The five guardians? What do you –”
“You there. Who are you?” A hooded figure emerged from the cottage behind them, a long poleaxe-type blade in his hands. Another followed him, the two moving to either side of the tablet.
“You are the Order?” he asked. “The Riftkeepers?”
They stole glances at one another from inside their hoods. “Yes. We are the rift wardens for this site,” said the shorter of them. She had a soft, lilting voice.
“I ask you again, who are you?” said the taller man, bringing his weapon in front of him.
“You may have heard whisperings of me on the wind. Perhaps you have felt it.” He could sense their own bonds. It was customary, to be a rift warden. One needed the ability to sense the riftspawn, was what Niks had once told him. “I am Seeker Rift-Breaker. My companion and I have come to open your rift.”
In a flash the man swept his blade across his chest. “I won’t let you do that.” From the shadows across his face, two gold coins of light shone brightly.
The woman drew her own knives, glinting silver in the moonlight, eyes shining a brilliant violet. “You are certainly welcome to try, however.” She twirled the knives around her fingers in a flash of steel and smiled softly. Deceptively, for the power he felt dancing in her signature.
Seeker grimaced. So be it. He did not care much for battle – to the disdain of those around him after his enlistment – but that didn’t mean he would not engage. He could feel Niks’ impatience, eager for this to be out of the way so they get on with their task. It made sense they would be aligned on all things, even this, and he couldn’t stop the gradual smile sweeping across his face as the wind blasted the side of the hilltop, cutting into the two rift wardens across from them. Their robes billowed out behind them as they were pushed back a step, both shielding their faces against the onslaught. With a taste for it now, Seeker closed his eyes and dug deeper into the core of their shared power, spooling out more and more energy until the air crackled with it.
Overhead the sky cracked its knuckles, preparing for the fight. The air began to swirl in a circle, picking up leaves and small stones into the vortex, the shriek ringing in his ears. It was still hard to believe such power lay at his fingertips. That he could command it with just his mind. It certainly had its own thrill.
“Come on, then,” he mocked. “I thought you wanted to fight?”
The shorter one, the woman, battled against a wall of wind and ducked behind the tablet to shield herself. The man followed suit, the two of them hidden by its surface. Above them the rift trembled
. Riftspawn spilled from the near invisible tear, larger and more intricate forms denoting them to be Greater Riftspawn.
Quick as a flash the woman was upon him, her dagger before his eyes as she crashed into him. With a cry, Seeker rolled and shoved her out of the way. As she came upon him again he smacked his palms together and the air pressure dived, a deem booming noise echoing from his raw flesh. She hissed and pulled back. He could see the spirit within her, a pale creature with thin membranous wings like a bat and six arms, the warden’s eyes flashing. The signature of the creature was a rampant, thrumming beat, so quick he almost felt himself fall into its rhythmic trap.
Niks’ presence in his mind righted him and he danced away from her swings, even quicker than before. The edge of her blade caught his shirt and tore, slicing a shallow cut across his forearm. Blood welled, the sting enough of a distraction that he didn’t notice the man sneak up behind him until he heard Niks’s warning shout in his head.
Seeker ducked at the last moment, the blade so close to his head he felt it nick his ear and slice off a lock of hair. A shiver ran through him. Caught between the two, he took an elbow to the face as the man swung back around and he stumbled, blood bursting from his nose in streams. Disorientated, he pulled himself up to his feet and nestled down deep into his power. A retreat, but not for long.
Around him surged a forcefield of wind and debris, howling, shrill and piercing. Protected from it, he could only watch as they covered their ears and buckled over, the sound overpowering their mortal hearing. The rift creaked and groaned, so much spiritual energy around it prying open the crack. The force wafting from it now was enough to draw the attention of both rift wardens. They could not hope to stop what was to come.
Latching onto the tear, Seeker threw as much of his power as he could at the rift, drawing out more and more and more until his legs trembled with the force, barely able to keep him upright. The crack widened, vibrant, swirling colours of the otherworld exposed to his eyes, so much sharper than his human eyes could normally see, and he took a step forward, spellbound. It looked so inviting.
Not yet. Niks flashed before him with a shake of her head. With so much of his spiritual energy spent, she flickered in and out of view, translucent and shimmering. The door was dangling by a hangnail; one more push and it would burst open. Then the riftspawn would be free to make a home out of this world. Then the realms would bleed together into one. A world shaped by belief and thought. Where anyone could make a difference. His blood thrummed with how badly he wanted it.
“Stop him and the rift will follow!” the man yelled over the wind. His palms were raised to the sky, channelling what energy he possessed into undoing what Seeker had done. It didn’t matter. There was no undoing it.
The woman jumped over the tablet, bearing down on him even faster than before, lips pulled in a snarl. Her hood had fallen, dark hair fanning around her as she danced with her blades like ceremonial fans, slicing the air. Now sluggish and weak, Seeker could barely hold her off, summoning more wind to push her back. His breath was coming in quick, shallow puffs of air. Each breath formed as a cloud of steam.
There is another way.
For a moment Seeker didn’t know what she meant but then it hit him. With air at his command, he could quite easily steal the breath from the rift wardens’ lungs. “No,” he said, sharp and clear. The sound echoed on the storm, stretching out into a rumble of thunder overhead. “That’s not the way.” Bodies. Seeker had seen his fill in his days as a soldier. He would see no more if he could help it. That was not his goal here.
Your flesh grows weary.
Conviction lent him some last scraps of strength from deep inside. “I’ll show you!” he yelled, voice booming over the hills, swooping down into the valleys below. Birds startled from their perches with squawks and riftspawn scattered in their hordes, startled by the vehemence inside him. With so much power flowing through him, he felt less human and more feeling. A conduit. The rift sparked and crackled beneath his touch but he held on. With intention there was little he could not do. His father had never really understood all he was truly capable of. If only he could see him like this, more god than any Pillar.
Gritting his teeth, Seeker raised his fist to the sky and screamed out, throat raw. He could smell the acrid, unnatural scent of lightning forming in the atmosphere, building with so much pressure. Seizing it in his mind, he yanked down and watched as a brilliant bolt of white light struck the tablet in a deafening explosion. The rift ruptured, sending out a pulse of pure, unfiltered spiritual energy that burnt every sense Seeker had. Noises registered somewhere in the back of his mind but exhausted, spent, blinded by the light, his knees buckled as his body gave way from the force. His last thought was one of weary triumph.
He had done it again. He had opened the rift. Seeker Rift-Breaker.
*
That night there was a storm. Thunder groaned above, setting the wooden barn they had found for the night to trembling. Old, rotting wood rattled and shook, and somewhere between bouts of restless sleep Rook swore she saw lightning whiten the sky. It stopped her from falling into a deeper slumber despite her exhaustion, lying awake as her companions slept. The hay beneath her itched at her skin the same way her thoughts itched at her mind, teething at places she could not reach. It was a long night.
Eventually the torrid heat of the Night of the Phoenix gave way to torrential rain, pounding at the roof as balmier air seeped into the barn. Water leaked from somewhere above, the drip, drip, drip of water irritating her rattled nerves. With a rag that had once been Kilai’s handkerchief, she located the leak and ran her blades beneath, trying not to look at the blood smeared across metal. Her fingers trembled as she scrubbed it away, coming away tainted with the feel of it slicking her skin. Eventually she could see her reflection in the shining surface of each riftblade and she dropped them to the floor with a weary sigh.
So far she had come and yet it felt like she hadn’t come very far at all. The whole point of this journey had been for her to implement her learning. To prove she had changed. That she had learned something. Yet the amount of bodies had stacked up, still visible behind her eyelids. Soldiers they might have been, but they still had family, loves, dreams. All taken from them because she hadn’t been able to help Viktor control himself. But how could she teach him control when she barely had a lid on her own demon?
In quiet, sombre moments of weakness like these the hissing of The Rook was the strongest, the offer at its most tantalising. It would be so easy to let the monster take over and forget everything else. Cast off the stress and worry and exhaustion and begin anew. After all, with such constant failure, what was the point? Why keep trying to convince herself she could be better than what people assumed of her? The blades at her sides were supposed to be sacred; symbols of protection. As a rift warden she would guard the rifts to safeguard the people of this world, a great and noble gatekeeper. They might not thank her for it but the satisfaction came from conviction.
What did she do when conviction began to wane? What remained? Rook was afraid to find out.
From the high window she could see it was still dark outside, morning not yet breaking the horizon, but the softening indigo sky suggested she would not have to wait much longer. Feeling stuffy trapped inside, she wandered out into the cool embrace of pre-morning, sighing with relief. The air was heady with the afterscent of rain and she inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with it. A new day was coming and it was important to keep looking ahead. To look back would be nothing but harm.
The snick of a match pricked her ears and she turned at the flash of a small flame out of the corner of her eye, cupped between pale, bony fingers.
“Is that a good idea next to a barn?” she asked.
The silence that followed was heavy. She didn’t know how to approach Janus, or whether she really wanted to. Her arms were crossed stiffly over her chest, spine rigid. His eyes flickered over her stance as if assessing whether a cornered animal
might lash out and it only incensed her more.
“Helps me think,” he said finally.
“About what?”
He shrugged. “What’s going to happen now.”
“What is going to happen now?”
“Somehow don’t think I’m the one calling the shots right now.”
Rook followed his line of vision to Kilai curled up in a ball amongst the hay. She turned back to him with narrowed eyes. “You speak as if you are one of us.”
Smoke billowed from his lips, curling up around his face.
“You lost that right when you hurt Viktor and abandoned us.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
“I know.”
Something inside her snapped. All of the stress and trauma of the past weeks came pouring out of her at once. “How can you act like that? Like nothing you did matters? You walked away, Janus. You can’t just show up again and play the hero and expect things to go back to normal! How can we trust you after what you did?” Voice cracking, she shook her head at him and turned her eyes to the first glow of dawn on the horizon. “I thought you were our friend.”
More silence followed, stretching out long enough that she considered walking back into the barn and leaving him there.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped.
Her eyes found his of their own volition. “Are you?” She hated how much she wanted to believe him. To believe that at least some of it had been real.
“Yes.” He looked uncomfortable. “Didn’t mean to hurt any of you. Was just a job at first. But then you all became friends and I didn’t know what that meant. Didn’t think I could stick around.”
“I don’t understand.”
Janus rolled his cigarette between his fingers, looking off into the distance. “Never really stuck around one place, or let myself get attached. Didn’t mean to here. But I couldn’t leave you to die, not when I could help you.” He shrugged again. “Don’t have anywhere to go. If you’ll have me, I’ll be here.”
The Reaping Season Page 9
