by Davis Ashura
Serena yipped in pain and tumbled to the ground. She rolled over in time to see the center-back on her team shift to cover the void where she should have been. The left-back had moved right as well. Three opposition players ran downfield in a line stretching from left to right. The woda flicked amongst them from center to left to center again. The defenders moved with the ball, trying to guess where the attack would come from.
They guessed wrong. An opposition player had a clean shot at the full goal and scored.
“Pay attention next time!” Lien shouted at her. “You’re defense. Stay back and defend.”
Serena scowled, but nodded understanding. The rest of the game she stayed in her zone and didn’t fall for any more feints. She defended.
In the end they won, and Serena shouted with joy.
“I guess someone liked their first game of enrune,” Lien said with a grin.
“I loved it,” Serena replied. She’d always been competitive, and she had finally found a sport in which she could let loose her desire to win and feel no guilt in the victory. In Sinskrill, victory often carried a terrible burden for the loser.
“So what’s it going to be?” Lien asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Surfing or enrune?”
“Both,” Serena said with a laugh. The disappointment of Deidre’s attitude toward her had faded, and for the second time in as many days she hummed “Gloria.”
During his pilgrimage, Jake had only been able to wash off with a few splashes of water now and then. Apparently the elves and dwarves couldn’t smell, or they didn’t bathe as regularly as a human did. As a result, Jake stank. He smelled awful, and even Selene had pulled away and wrinkled her nose when he went to give her a hug.
“You stink,” she’d said, when he’d seen her earlier in the day.
“Oh, yeah.” He’d grinned and made a move to hug her again, knowing she’d shriek in horror. She hadn’t let him down. She’d run for safety, hiding behind Serena.
Jake had laughed, but he’d taken the hint and headed home to take a long shower. He scrubbed every inch of his body until the water no longer ran brown. After toweling off, he luxuriated in the sense of being clean and decided to take a nap.
“Hurry up!” William yelled from the bottom of the stairs.
Jake sat up with a start.
“We’re leaving for the Karllsons in ten minutes,” William added.
Jake shot a glance outside. Twilight. Shit. He’d overslept. He got dressed and headed downstairs, where he found Jason, William, and Mr. Zeus waiting for him in the kitchen.
“It’s good to have you home,” Mr. Zeus said with a warm smile.
Jake grinned. “It’s good to be home.”
William lifted his nose as if testing the air. “He smells all right,” he said.
“I don’t know. I think I still smell jackass,” Jason said.
“You’re sniffing your butt again,” Jake said.
Mr. Zeus laughed. “Come on. The Karllsons are hosting a potluck dinner. They’re probably waiting on us, and you know how Mrs. Karllson is about promptness.” He passed William a dish. “Hold this. It’s gumbo.”
“Who else is going to be there?” Jake asked.
“Other than the Karllsons, there should be four other people,” said Jason as they left Mr. Zeus’ house. “One couple. You haven’t met them. Jean-Paul Bernard and ThuDuc Thu. They’re both Far Beyonders like us and the Karllsons.”
Jake frowned. “I thought ThuDuc Thu was a guy.” He held the front gate for the others.
“He is,” Jason said.
“But you said . . .” Jake’s eyes widened in realization. “Jean-Paul and ThuDuc—”
“Just Thu,” Jason corrected. “That’s what he goes by.”
“Whatever,” Jake said. “You’re saying two guys are a couple?”
“Is that a problem?” Mr. Zeus asked.
“No.” Jake shook his head. “I’ve just never known people like that before.”
“Yes, you did,” Mr. Zeus said. “You simply didn’t realize it.”
William laughed. “Serena’s going to be so mad when she finds out Jean-Paul is gay,” he said. “I think she might have a bit of a crush on her new surfing instructor.”
Jake eyed him in question, and William explained what they’d all been up to while he’d been gone on his pilgrimage.
He whistled after they finished. “You guys have been busy.”
“I heard Jean-Paul also invited Serena and Selene to the Karllsons. They're the other two people,” Jason said in a scandalized tone. He sounded like Jake’s old Aunt Beatrice, who loved to gossip.
Jake chuckled at the comparison.
“What?” Jason asked, eyeing him in suspicion.
“Nothing,” Jake replied, still grinning.
“Enough,” Mr. Zeus said. “Tell us about your time with the Memories. Everyone experiences them differently.”
Jake’s amusement fell away. “The elves made me sad, but the dwarves broke my heart. I almost wish I hadn’t gone on the pilgrimage.”
“Same here,” William said. “But one good thing came out of it. After our pilgrimage, Serena actually apologized for what she did to us.”
Jason snorted in derision. “She’s probably lying.”
“I don’t know,” William said. “She was pretty emotional about it.”
“Who cares?” Jason asked. “Liars lie. It’s what they do.”
Jake felt the same as Jason. “Even if Serena really was sorry, it doesn’t matter. Remember what they say. Keep your friends close . . .”
“And your enemies closer,” Jason finished.
"But not your enemas," William added.
Jake groaned at the terrible pun.
They ascended the Main Stairs, cut across Tamboor Crossing, a crystalline bridge carved with images of unicorns and centaurs that stretched from Terrace Twelve on Cliff Spirit to Terrace Ten on Cliff Fire. From there, they hiked down a secondary stair to Terrace Seven and traveled the cobblestone lane that snaked along the edge of the cliff. To their left stood the houses and their front yards, and to their right, a drop-off guarded by a waist-high, wrought-iron fence.
All terraces were similarly organized.
Soon after, they reached the Karllson’s home. A tall hedgerow marched along the perimeter of the front yard, while an arched, wooden gate provided access to a small lawn edged by mandevilla vines, hibiscus, and tall canna. From there, a white, gravel path led to a two-story, high-peaked house that would have fit perfectly in a German village.
Mrs. Karllson greeted them at the front door with a ready smile and ushered them inside. Jake’s hackles rose when he noticed Serena talking to Mr. Karllson, Selene, Jean-Paul, and Thu—a small, nondescript Vietnamese man. Serena hadn’t apologized to him.
“Now your true instruction begins,” Jake heard Mr. Karllson declare to Serena.
“But she’s already trained,” Selene said.
“She is skilled in many uses of her Elements,” Mr. Karllson said, “but not in the ways of Arylyn. She is powerful, but she lacks precision.”
Jake drifted over to their conversation, curious what they were discussing. William came with him.
“We didn’t have to have such fine control because the lorasra of Sinskrill is richer than it is here,” Serena said.
“Truly?” Mrs. Karllson asked, joining the conversation as well.
“It is,” William confirmed.
“Why is that, I wonder?” Jean-Paul asked. “We have two raha’asras, and soon we will have four. I was under the impression Sinskrill only had one.”
“Yes, my grandmother,” Serena said.
“Grandmother?” Thu asked in a soft-spoken, Vietnamese-tinged accent. “I thought your family consisted of Selene, Sinskrill’s Servitor, and this Isha of yours.”
“I only found out that Fiona is my grandmother a few weeks before we escaped,” Serena said.
Mrs. Karllson frowned in confusion. “How
could you not know?”
“I am the daughter of Sinskrill’s Servitor,” Serena said, “but that connection was only confirmed after I passed a test and became what we call a shill, an apprentice mahavan. Until then, I lived with my birth mother, Cinnamon, as a drone, and she and Fiona never spoke of their relationship.”
“What are drones?” Jean-Paul asked.
Jake wished they would talk about something else. He wanted to forget everything about Sinskrill.
“Drones are slaves,” William said.
“They practice slavery?” Thu asked, his voice filled with shock and outrage.
“I was a drone,” Selene said. “Only Serena would treat me like a person. She shouldn’t have. It was dangerous, but she did it anyway.”
“It’s because we’re sisters,” Serena said to Selene, the fondness and love evident on her face. “Sisters watch out for each other.”
“What about your mother?” Mrs. Karllson asked. “Does she still live?”
Jake mentally groaned. He really wished they’d talk about something else.
“My birth mother died,” Serena said. “My adopted mother didn’t like how much I still loved her.”
“You’re not telling the whole truth,” William said with a frown.
Jake hoped he’d keep quiet. Thinking about what happened to Cinnamon turned his stomach.
Unfortunately, William pressed on. “Her birth mother was whipped to death. Serena had to watch.”
“Good Lord,” Jean-Paul gasped in horror.
“I remember that,” Selene said, her matter-of-fact tone at war with her innocent features.
“Surely you didn’t see it, too,” Mr. Zeus said.
“No,” Selene replied, “but Serena cried that night. It was the last time I ever saw her do that.”
The story about Serena’s past cast a shadow over the party, and it took some time for any sense of joy to return to the Karllson's home.
TEACHING DISAGREEMENTS
October 1987
* * *
William walked beside Jake with a sense of trepidation. In the three months since their arrival on Arylyn, all they’d done was rest and recover, learn a bunch of history, and spend a month with the Memories. Today they’d finally start their lessons from Arylyn’s raha’asras. They’d start with Sioned O’Sullivan, a woman originally from Ireland.
“This way,” Jake said. He pointed at Chimera Seed, a blocky bridge several terraces above them that led off Cliff Spirit’s Main Stairs. “We’ll save five levels if we take it,” Jake said.
“How do you figure?” William asked. “If we take Singlestroke Bridge we go straight to Cliff Earth.”
“Because Chimera Seed goes to Cliff Water, and from there all we have to do is drop down a level and take Haven’s Heart over to Cliff Earth. We’ll be one terrace down from where we need to be.”
William shrugged, not really caring how they got there.
He let Jake lead the way to Chimera Seed, so-named because of its decorations of minotaurs wielding tridents and whips of fire, giant cats walking upright with swords in hand, beasts that were a strange amalgamation of an elephant and a baboon, and others resembling snakes with legs.
They crossed the bridge. To their right, a torrent of water fell fifty feet to a rocky pool. A cool mist wafted upward from where water struck stone. William slowed when the footing grew slick. He paused at the crest, wondering what it would be like to fly amongst the water and swirling air. In times past, magi were said to have been able to do so.
Jake nudged him. “We’re going to be late.”
William broke out of his reverie, and they pressed on. Ten minutes later, they crossed Haven’s Heart and reached the cobblestone lane of Terrace Nine on Cliff Earth. They halted before their destination, an English cottage made of stacked stone covered in ivy. A topiary garden with deer, elephants, and a lion rampant decorated a small lawn. Several chimneys breached the home’s gray-slate roof, and wood smoke curled skyward from one of them.
Jake rapped on the front door, and they waited.
The sound of footsteps echoed from inside before the door opened. A small, elderly, white-haired woman wearing round glasses peered at them. From behind thick lenses, her bright, blue eyes shone with curiosity and liveliness. A webbing of smile-lines seamed her face.
“Sioned O’Sullivan?” Jake asked.
“Of course I am, dears,” she said in an Irish lilt, and her face broke into a warm smile. “We’ve met before, but you boys were a bit frazzled then. Did you have any trouble finding my home?’
“No, ma’am,” William answered.
The old woman chuckled. “Call me Ms. Sioned, dears,” she said. “Come inside, and we’ll get started.”
She led them into a living room containing a leather sofa and several upholstered chairs. An oval coffee table had been pushed to the side, leaving the center open. There, Ms. Sioned had placed several woven mats on the slate floor.
“Sit down,” she instructed, gesturing to the mats. “You already know the theory of asra?”
They both nodded.
“And you can separate the Elements from your lorethasra and link it to their corresponding strands of lorasra?”
“Jake can.” William shifted about in embarrassment. “I still struggle at it, unless my life is in danger.”
Ms. Sioned gazed at him in puzzlement. “How strange,” she said. “At any rate, Jake can go first. Show me what you can do.”
Jake concentrated, and William sensed him source his lorethasra as the fragrance of cut grass briefly filled the room. Jake quickly braided each Element to its corresponding strand from lorasra.
“Well done.” Ms. Sioned smiled at Jake. “Your turn,” she said to William.
William mentally grimaced. He was terrible at this. He sourced his lorethasra and frowned in concentration as he slowly unspooled Fire, Earth, Air, and Water from the shining, ivory band of his Spirit.
“Now braid them to lorasra,” Ms. Sioned ordered.
William bit down on his rising agitation and carefully reached for lorasra. He started with Air, but the moment he did, his other Elements shuddered. He chased after them, trying to maintain them. They trembled further. His heart raced. He chased them. An instant later, the threads flashed apart in a shiver of light.
His head throbbed, and his vision blurred. The pain built. Nausea roiled his stomach, and he retched.
A cool, dry hand rested on his head, and the pain eased. His vision slowly cleared, and the nausea retreated.
“Better?” Ms. Sioned asked with a face full of concern. She stood next to William. Somehow, he’d collapsed onto his side.
He could only manage a nod. His head still hurt.
Her face expression firmed. “When you lose control of your threads, they can rebound on you. It can prove deadly to yourself and others. You must learn to control your skills.”
William nodded again. The pain and nausea lifted further, and he sat up. Irritation and disgust replaced the discomfort. Why couldn’t he do this?
Ms. Sioned returned to sit upon her mat. She stared at him with a frown, appearing lost in thought. “I saw part of your problem,” she said to William. “Your lorethasra is quite powerful. It’s often the case that those with great potential often struggle with maintaining their threads.”
“Told you you’d be fine,” Jake said, punching him lightly on the shoulder.
Relief washed over William, but he could only manage a sickly smile. The headache and nausea hadn’t entirely disappeared. More importantly, he remained frustrated at his ongoing inability to create the most basic of braids.
The lessons went on, but William continued to struggle with the work. No matter the task Ms. Sioned set before them, he couldn’t do it. His problems all stemmed from his inability to cleanly separate his Elements and link them to lorasra. Without that, he was as helpless as a broken-winged bird plummeting from a tree.
By the time the morning’s lessons ended, William fe
lt like he’d run a marathon through a world of embarrassment. How would he ever free Travail and Fiona if he couldn’t weave a single braid?
Afterward, they headed back to Mr. Zeus’ for lunch. William’s head still hurt, and he didn’t want to talk. Instead, he trudged in silence alongside Jake. Their meal was similarly silent as William continued to worry at his lack of progress. Later on they’d meet with Arylyn’s other raha’asra, Afa Simon, but William had little hope that the afternoon’s instructions would go any better than the morning’s.
Afa lived three doors down from Mr. Zeus in a single-story home with a thatched roof and a lanai. He waited for them on the porch in front of his home. A wide-brimmed hat covered his bald head, and Polynesian warrior tattoos decorated his arms and chest. He appeared positively ancient—older even than Mr. Zeus or Ms. Sioned. Even seated, William could see that Afa had a stooped posture.
“William Wilde and Jake Ridley. Call me Afa,” the old man said. A coughing fit took him. “Excuse me.” He coughed again and peered at them through eyes gray with cataracts. “Too much smoke and alcohol is an unhealthy combination. I learned my lesson too late in life. Take heed and avoid my mistakes.” He emphasized each point with a thrust of the cane he apparently needed to get around. “Sit down.” He coughed again. “What did Sioned discuss with you?”
They told him, and he nodded appreciation. “Good. She’ll handle the practical aspects then, and I’ll teach you the finer points of what it means to be a raha’asra. Given your time in Sinskrill, what do you think of their lorasra?”
William’s mouth curled in disgust.
“It tastes and smells like rotten eggs,” Jake said.
“So I’m told by the others who rescued you,” Afa said. “Why do you suppose that is?”
“Because of who makes it?” Jake guessed.
Afa smiled in approval. “Exactly. Which means Sinskrill’s raha’asra must have an irredeemably foul soul.”
William frowned. That wasn’t right. “Fiona isn’t evil,” he said in disagreement.
“Is she not the one who creates Sinskrill’s lorasra?” Afa asked.