by Davis Ashura
Serena dipped her head again in silent acknowledgement, but her thoughts flitted elsewhere. Though the Servitor was her father, Isha had more properly served in that role.
“And if Selene proves as strong as you . . .” The Servitor trailed off with a laugh. “I will have double a father’s pride and achieved something rare and wondrous.” He sighed then. “If only your broodmare hadn’t proven sacrilegious and fallen ill. How many more mahavans might she and I have been able to breed?”
Serena bit back a snarl. Her mother had not fallen ill. She had been murdered.
Her father never noticed her anger. He mounted his white stallion, the Servitor once more, and gave her a nod of farewell. “I will see you at the Palace?”
“I need to check on William first, sir,” Serena answered. “He’s been a week with Travail and I want to see how he’s doing. I may spend the night in White Sun.”
The Servitor frowned. “No. Oversee William, but do not attempt to return to White Sun. It’s already afternoon. By the time you reach the troll’s abode, it will be late. I don’t want you traveling alone at night. Not when the unformed so recently attacked in broad daylight. Stay with Travail until the morning.”
“Yes, my liege,” Serena said. Once again her features hid the truth of her roiling emotions.
Spend a night near William? The man who had more reason to hate her than anyone else in the entire world?
She grimaced at the thought.
Travail’s home was a broad meadow of heather and grass on a cliff overlooking Lake White Sun. To the east reared a fractured mountain, half its face broken off and tumbled down into a field of massive boulders. North and west rose a forest of pine and cedar that blunted the frequent hard winds from those directions. The area had a microclimate, drier than other parts of the island, but the omnipresent clouds remained as prevalent over Travail’s field as they did everywhere else on the island.
But when the sun did shine bright and warm, William liked to hike to the cliff’s edge and watch the serenity of Lake White Sun and contrast it with the distant, rolling waters of the Norwegian Sea. Plus, on some days, a rainbow took shape.
William had only been with Travail for a week, but already he loved the troll’s home more than any other place on Sinskrill. Certainly more than the miserable hovel he and Jake shared at the village. With no cottage or home—Travail didn’t need one given his thick fur—they camped under the stars, and a sense of freedom, purpose, and hope—an audacious belief—was slowly taking root in William’s wary heart.
All thanks to the troll, who currently sat with eyes closed in a meditative pose, his back pressed against a boulder standing twice his height.
“You should get some rest,” Fiona called out.
William stood and watched the old raha’asra approach. He viewed her with antipathy, but made sure to mask his feelings from his features and posture.
An insight occurred to him as he waited for Fiona. He wondered if this was how Serena approached the world: a lying face to hide her true feelings and intentions. He silently vowed to master such deception for himself. Whatever it took to get off the island.
“How’s your jaw?” Fiona asked him. “Can you take a measure of healing?”
“I’m fine, madam,” William lied. His face remained bruised, a pulsing headache made balance a challenge, and some of his teeth still sat loose in their sockets. For now, he could only eat soup.
Fiona folded her arms and bore a half-smile, sarcastic and cutting. “You think the pain is better than my healing.”
“Your healing hurts too much,” William admitted.
Fiona used a braid that forced his body to repair itself more quickly than it otherwise could, and while the process worked, it also hurt like hell. At most, William could endure only a few seconds of it.
“How’s Jason?” William asked.
“Convalescing in your old cottage,” she answered. “But he’s coming along. I imagine he’ll join you in a few weeks.”
“But he’s getting better?”
“I said he was,” Fiona said with a dismissive shrug before turning to study Travail. “How long has he been sitting there?”
“A few hours.”
A flash of fondness passed across Fiona’s face so quickly that William wasn’t sure he’d actually seen it.
“I am able to answer whatever questions you have about my state without need for an interlocutor,” Travail said, opening his eyes.
“Of course,” Fiona said with a sardonic dip of her head. “Learn well from him,” she told William. “He taught me, too.”
“To my everlasting detriment and shame,” Travail said. “You are a grave disappointment.”
Fiona shrugged. “Nevertheless, you were a fine instructor, certainly better than the old raha’asra who was originally tasked with my training.”
“I remember him well,” Travail said, sounding fond.
“Pang Arun,” Fiona added, in a wistful tone of her own. “An old Buddhist from Cambodia, and a sweeter, kinder man I’ve never known.”
William could barely hide his shock. Fiona had actually sounded tender toward this old raha’asra. “What happened to him?”
“The seasons of our lives lead inexorably to winter,” Travail said. “Pang died, gracefully and quietly, in my arms.”
“I should go,” Fiona said, rising abruptly. “It’s getting late. I’ll let the Servitor know your healing goes well.”
“You came all the way up here to check on me?” William asked in surprise.
“It is my task. The Servitor requires my service to Travail, and Travail requires that I see to your healing.”
“I will require far more than that,” Travail said. “You will come back every day to aid in William’s instruction as soon as he is hearty and hale.”
Fiona briefly bowed. “Yes, sir,” she said before departing.
Several hours after Fiona left, William was standing on the shore of Lake White Sun and testing how far he could throw a rock across the water when Serena came striding up the pathway leading to the meadow.
William groaned. “What does she want?” he muttered.
“No doubt to determine your state of health,” Travail said, catching William’s eye. “And something else. With this one, patience is required to learn her true purpose. Listen and watch. Speak little.”
“Where’s Jake?” Serena asked as she drew up.
“At the cottage, madam,” William answered, his voice drone-dull. “Fiona is taking care of him. He can’t travel yet.”
“What about you? How is your healing coming along?”
“Coming along,” William said. His face should have been answer enough.
Serena’s face, usually expressionless, softened. If William hadn’t known better, he would have said regret filled her eyes. Her mouth opened, and she appeared on the verge of saying something before her mouth shut with a snap. Her features became bland and unreadable once more. “I am to stay here tonight,” she declared. “Prepare bedding for me.”
“You aren’t going back to the village?” Travail asked.
“The Servitor ordered otherwise,” Serena said. “He fears the unformed might attack a lone traveler this late in the day.”
“The unformed never venture this far south,” Travail noted.
“And they never used to attack in broad daylight,” Serena said. “Yet they did exactly that less than two weeks ago.”
Travail grunted. “So be it. You may remain here overnight if you wish.”
“Madam, we don’t have extra bedding,” William informed Serena, “but you can have mine.”
Serena grimaced. “Yours is likely lice-ridden. No, thanks.”
His bedding wasn’t lice ridden! William had fallen far in the world, but not that far. He tried to maintain some semblance of cleanliness when it came to bugs and things like that.
“It doesn’t matter,” Serena said. “A bedding of pine needles will do. See to it.”
“Yes, madam,” he replied.
“One other item,” Serena added. “The Servitor has a message for you. He wishes to remind you of the sovereign law of Sinskrill. Everything here is property. All of it belongs to Shet. Every human, animal, and plant belongs to our Lord. That includes you, and it is for the Servitor, with Shet’s guidance, to decide how best to dispose of his property.”
“Yes, madam,” William said in his blandest tone although he didn’t need the reminder. It had already been pounded into his head.
“The Servitor also reminds you that should you fail in your studies, Jake will be the one made to suffer, and as Shet’s property, your friend will be the one who is . . . disposed.”
William gritted his teeth. If it was the last thing he did, he’d see this island burn. “Understood,” he said. He knew anger reddened his face, but he didn’t care. Pride could only bend so far. He even left off the honorific ‘madam’ and wondered if she’d notice and what she would do about it.
She gave him a hard stare, but nothing more.
Arylyn
* * *
The trade winds blew cool this evening, and the aqua ocean darkened as the sun set. Jason opened the gate to Mr. Zeus’ house, ducking below the jasmine draping the arbor. The clean fragrance of the flowers seemed a perfect complement to the purple-pink sky at twilight.
“How are the new recruits coming along?” Mr. Zeus asked from the front porch.
Jason sagged into a chair with a groan of weariness.
Mr. Zeus chuckled. “That well, eh?”
“Those two would work me to death if I let them,” Jason answered. He slumped back in his chair and closed his eyes. Sweat beaded upon his scalp and forehead and slowly dripped down his neck and nose. The early evening breeze playing across his overheated skin felt wonderful. Maybe he’d rest here for awhile. Or forever.
How had Rukh talked him into another round of sparring? Jason had already been tired when the inexhaustible boy had pressed him for another session. Where did Rukh get the stamina?
Jake made a sound of relief when another breeze fluttered through the front porch of Mr. Zeus’ house.
“Want anything to drink?” his grandfather asked.
“Please,” Jason said, not having the energy to open his eyes.
Mr. Zeus went into the house and returned with a tall glass of water. “Those two are certainly proving themselves quite capable,” he noted with a smile.
“Capable of making me miserable,” Jason grumbled.
“Stop whining,” Mr. Zeus said with a laugh. “Show them some compassion. They’re orphans like William.”
Jason scowled. “That still bothers me,” he said. “How likely were we to discover two potentials, orphans whose parents both bequeathed them enough money to afford St. Francis, only a few weeks after William’s abduction? Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”
“Of course, it does,” Mr. Zeus replied. “But remember how Cornelius and Lien all arrived here within months of one another. And Lien then discovered William. With asra, coincidences aren’t always coincidental. Sometimes it is something else guiding our movements.”
Jason gave him a sour grimace. “What? You think God had a role in what’s happened to us?”
“I certainly hope so, but who can really say?” Mr. Zeus replied with a gentle smile. “But regarding Rukh and Jessira, I’m not worried about them. I took their measure before telling them of Arylyn and bringing them here. I trust them.”
Jason shook his head. “I wish I could trust them like you do.”
“Are you sure your feelings about them aren’t clouded by someone else?” Mr. Zeus asked, his demeanor now serious. “Don’t let what Serena did to us make you overly mistrustful.”
“I’m trying not to,” Jason said, “but it’s hard. Part of why I’m willing to train Rukh and Jessira is because I want to get to know them, learn who they really are. After what Serena did, we can’t afford to take any chances.”
“None of us will forget what she did, but Rukh and Jessira deserve to be judged on their own merits, not hers.”
“I’ll try,” Jason promised.
“That’s all I ask.”
“What did the Council have to say about our proposal?” Jason asked.
“They don’t approve.” Mr. Zeus frowned. “They talk about their normal fears, and don’t see how we can actually steal William and Jake away from Sinskrill. They also fear that the mahavans might capture one of us and learn the key to our anchor line.”
“Didn’t you tell them to change it after we leave?” Jason asked. “If we get stranded in the Far Abroad, we can always dream them our location and have them bring us home.”
“They threw out the possibility that Sinskrill will capture a pair of us and keep one to threaten with torture while the other is sent to sneak an opening into Arylyn.”
“None of us would do that!” Jason protested.
“I agree, but the Council . . . they’ve always been like this.”
Jason shook his head in disgust. “Cowards.”
“Don’t judge them too harshly,” Mr. Zeus advised. “Their greatest concern is Arylyn’s safety. For them, nothing else matters, and in many ways, I understand their concern.”
“So we can’t do anything?”
“I didn’t say that,” Mr. Zeus said. “Right now the Council may be fearful, but their opinions can be shifted. Lillian Care is already on our side. So is Break Foliage.”
“That’s only two out of the six.”
“Yes, but Bar Duba may also break for us.”
“The Councilor for Air?” Jason shrugged. “Even if you can convince him, the vote would still be tied.”
“No.” Mr. Zeus wore a pleased smile. “Lillian is the Mayor, and since this is essentially a raid on Sinskrill, the Council would have to operate under the rules of war. In such a circumstance, the mayor’s vote counts for two.”
“Four to three,” Jason said with an answering smile.
Mr. Zeus nodded. “We need a more solid plan to convince Bar, though. Right now, we’ve got nothing more than ‘Let’s go!’”
“What do you need me to do?”
“Nothing yet,” Mr. Zeus said. “We’re going north. I already told you that, and soon enough, we might have a more exact location.”
“You’ve found Sinskrill?” Jason asked, a spark of excitement flaring.
“Not yet,” Mr. Zeus said, “but I’m close. My sense is that it’s somewhere north of the British Isles, but even when I pin the exact location down, we will need a way to approach without being discovered.”
Jason smirked. “I’m surprised those idiot mahavans didn’t destroy William’s nomasra as soon as they took it off him.”
“I’m sure they did,” Mr. Zeus said with a smirk of his own. “But there were two nomasras within the locket, not one. There was the locket itself, but also the picture of William’s family tucked within it.”
Jason shook his head in admiration. “You sneaky old man.”
Mr. Zeus made a mock bow in Jason’s direction. “Indeed.”
INSTRUCTIONS AND CHALLENGES
April 1987
* * *
A hard shove rolled William onto his back and into full wakefulness.
“You’ve rested long enough,” Travail informed him as he squatted next to William’s bedroll. “You’re healed. It’s time to begin your training.
“What the hell!”
A slap rocked William’s head to the side.
“No cursing.”
“Ow!” William blinked back tears. The slap felt like it’d loosened some newly reset teeth. “What was that for?”
“Because you cursed. There will be no cursing during your training,” Travail explained. “And I pulled the punch. Stop whining. You’re fine. Now get up.”
William scrambled out of his blankets. He probed his face, wondering if his jaw would swell.
A sliver of sunshine to the east heralded dawn’s imminence, but William’s
breath frosted in the winter-cold air. “Why do we have to get up so early?” he asked.
“I’m always up this early. You used to be up this early, too, when Fiona had charge of your training. It’s time to re-establish old habits.” Travail stared at William in obvious expectation.
“Yes, sir,” William hastily responded.
Travail settled back on his heels. “Better. Now. Let’s go for a run.”
He set off at a trot, a ground-eating lope that quickly had William huffing for breath. Much of his stamina from his life before Sinskrill had been robbed during his time here. While a drone’s work was taxing, it wasn’t the same as running or exercising the way he once had.
Travail must have recognized William’s difficulty in keeping the pace. He grunted and slowed down.
They completed several circuits of the troll’s meadow home, and by then the sun had risen, a dull glow through the eternal cloud banks enshrouding Sinskrill.
“Are you able to maintain this pace and converse?” Travail asked.
“Yes, sir,” William gasped.
“Good. Now your training begins in earnest.” Travail took them off the confines of his field. They entered the forest of old-growth pines and cedars west of his meadow and took a path that rose steadily. William’s claim of being able to run and talk at the same time was soon put to the test.
“Let us discuss anchor lines,” Travail said. “Tell me what you know of them.”
William didn’t know much more than what Mr. Zeus had taught him, and the topic never came up during Fiona’s infrequent instructions. “They connect the saha’asras,” William said.
Travail waited, and tsked when nothing more was forthcoming. “Your education is sorely lacking. You know the difference between lorasra and lorethasra at least?”
This William did know. “Lorasra is the asra within a saha’asra, or an endowed object like a nomasra, and lorethasra is the asra within a person. With lorethasra, we’re able to tap into lorasra.”
“And the elements that make up lorasra?”
“Fire, Water, Air, and Earth.”