by Davis Ashura
EVIL AWAKENS
November 1989
* * *
SOMEWHERE UNKNOWN
* * *
Sapient Dormant, the Overward of the necrosed, heard a strange, commanding call. The signal reached across the firmaments like a plucked, stretched, threadbare tendon, a chord that penetrated the large cave that Sapient had made his own. The ancient necrosed shifted, dimly recognizing the great mind who had sent the call.
Can it be?
Again the chord was plucked, but the sound didn’t ring in Sapient’s low-set ears. Rather, it echoed in his corrupted heart, tolling low and dull like the shutting of a coffin. It set the ruined organ to beating more quickly, and Sapient’s pus-like blood oozed sluggishly through his body. The call sounded again, and this time the Overward’s lungs inhaled the cave’s dank air. His blood further thinned, and the sound of dripping water penetrated his hearing.
Sapient opened his eyes. He lay upon a bed of broken bones—the remains of the many victims of his malice—and his joints creaked and cracked, sounding like distant rockslides as he sat up and stared about.
To any but a holder or a dwarf, the cave would have seemed pitch-black. Not so to Sapient. His onyx eyes, reflective despite the gloom, could see all. The cave he’d made his own stretched twenty yards from a boulder-strewn, choked off entrance to his bed of bones and the crumbled back wall. Spiny stalactites aimed like daggers from the ceiling toward a clear stream that held scuttling, blind crabs. The water flowed near the foot of his bed. A thin seam of gold spread root-like through the black rock that formed the walls, glistening in the occasional flash of light that breached the cave’s entrance.
Again came the call, pulsing like a beacon, and once more Sapient’s heart answered, skipping a step as it beat harder and faster.
An old memory stirred within the necrosed’s mind, but it didn’t surface as he tried to fathom who might have dared intrude on his sleep. He inhaled deeply, and his nose flared like filters as he slipped out his dark tongue, which was made black against his albino-white skin and pale lips. He tasted the air.
Nothing.
He waited minutes.
Still nothing.
Fatigue pressed upon him, and he lay down again, resting on his bed of bones and closing his eyes.
The call sounded once more.
This time Sapient’s gaze snapped to the ceiling. He recognized the one who had signaled him. Lord Shet.
The call, both order and vow, told Sapient that the anchor line would soon open and the god of the necrosed, the one who’d created them and saved them from destruction, would stride across the land. Shet, who had given them a purpose, a plan, and a promise.
Sapient shivered in anticipation, and his lean form quivered. He ran a four-fingered, rotting hand over his bald pâte and considered how best to answer the Lord’s summons.
Sapient lay unmoving for hours as he pondered his next step. He’d only recently arisen, and his thoughts, thick as gelatin, took time to clear and grow lucid. Eventually, he had a notion of what to do and he sat upright.
His joints creaked again, shoulders, wrists, back, knees, and hands. He stretched his long limbs, yawning as he clawed his way upright to his spindly eight-foot height. While most of his necrosed brethren chose bulk to aid their strength, Sapient had always chosen speed. He wasn’t as strong as the others—Kohl Obsidian, for instance—but his speed was unmatched. When it came to battle, speed evaded power and quickness destroyed slow strength.
Sapient’s mind further clarified and he wondered how much time had passed since he’d last roused. It was likely a century or more, given his hunger. And feeding would prove difficult with all the asrasins—including the mahavans—hidden away on their cursed islands.
The Overward’s mouth curled. Traitors. Their weakness had led to Shet’s defeat. The same weakness that somehow failed to humble them. Far from it, in fact. The Servitors of Sinskrill actually believed they could compel Sapient’s service, that he’d willingly bent his knees to their reign.
Prideful idiots.
Sapient had lied when he’d made obeisance to the Servitor’s Chair. He’d only done what was needed to earn their trust, all to further his Lord’s ultimate aim.
“Vengeance shall be mine,” Shet had said the last time Sapient had spoken to the Master. “Against all asrasins.”
And so it will be, Sapient thought.
But first, he required sustenance. A witch or warlock would do. Even an unformed. Whatever being he came across. Then he would gather his brethren and storm Sinskrill.
Sapient nodded to himself. The other necrosed would argue. They fought against one another as much as they did the rest of the world. It was in their nature since none of them remembered Shet and his glory. None of them remembered their god’s promise to lift the curse laid upon them by Shokan, to restore them to life, to free them from the bondage of undying death.
ARYLYN
* * *
William Wilde stared off in the distance and imagined how to make his Fire burn hotter. If he added a thread of Air to coil around . . .
He started when Serena gave him a gentle shove, and he glanced her way in confusion. “What?”
She shook her head. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes,” she said. “What do you plan on doing for New Year’s Eve?”
William blinked in uncertainty. His mind had been elsewhere, and he hadn’t heard her question at first.
Serena rolled her eyes, her demeanor clearly one of annoyance.
William shifted beneath her gaze. “Sorry. I was thinking about—”
“Training for Shet and Seminal?”
William eyes narrowed. “You were the one who said we needed to focus on him,” he said to her. “We aren’t done with him yet, remember?”
Serena had spoken to him about it a few months ago, about how they had to stop Shet from entering their world before anything else could happen, including between them. And with every passing day, William’s worries about the god of the mahavans increased. How will we stop Shet?
“I know, and I agree,” Serena said, interrupting his worries, “but don’t you think you should live some? Enjoy the beautiful day and the people you’re with.” She gestured about them.
The late-day sun shot bars of golden light through bands of cumulus clouds, lighting parts of the Village Green, the heart of Lilith and the only village upon Arylyn. Nearby, a jazz band played a languid tune from within the centrally-placed gazebo, and the perfumed scent of gardenias drifted on the breeze as a small crowd gathered to listen to the music. Beyond the gazebo, William caught sight of Selene and her friends, no doubt heading for an after-school treat at Maxine’s Ice Creamery, the finest and only ice cream parlor in Lilith. Like most of the island’s restaurants and stores, it stood upon Clifftop, the village’s industrial core.
William took in their surroundings and tried to set aside his irritation with Serena. She’d been the one who’d gone on and on about needing to put aside personal desires and train for Shet. Now she expects me to enjoy the day with her? He suppressed a grimace.
“Why don’t we get something to drink?” Serena suggested, apparently not picking up on his annoyance.
On again, off again with her. He mentally sighed. So be it. William managed a smile and indicated for Serena to lead on.
William wanted to take Serena’s hand as they walked toward Maxine’s but he held back. Work and worry kept them apart. He guessed that’s how Serena wanted it so he never spoke of how he sometimes thought about her. He feared her response. As a result, he remained quiet as they ambled past long, narrow buildings made of brick, stone, or a combination of the two. Other people were out and about, shopping or taking a stroll. William called out loud ‘hellos’ to most of them, while Serena was more reserved in her greetings.
A few minutes later, they reached their destination: Maxine’s Ice Creamery.
Selene and a few of her friends—Emma Lake an
d Janine Dale—were already on their way out the door. All of them clutched waffle cones heaped to overflowing with ice cream.
“We’re going for a hike through Janaki Valley,” Selene said. The young girl was a mirror image of her older sister, almost the same height and with a promise of beauty once she grew into her gangly frame.
Serena laughed. “Have fun.”
“See you later.” Selene and her friends clomped off in a wild show of girlish giggles and squealing laughter.
William and Serena entered the ice cream parlor. It was cool inside, brightly lit and smelling of chocolate, vanilla, and melted sugar. Maxine waited behind the counter. She was an elderly, bespectacled woman with sparkling, lively eyes and a generous manner. Everyone loved her.
“Can we have two lemonades?” William asked.
“Of course, dears,” Maxine said. She drew the drinks from a wooden keg, filling two mugs and passing them over. “If you add a touch of Air, it changes the flavor from lemonade to cider.” She didn’t need to remind them, but she always did. “Add Fire for orange juice and Earth if you want soda.”
William chose Earth since he loved a good soda. He sensed Serena source her lorethasra when a touch of mint floated on the air. The rustling of Earth indicated that she’d also gone for soda.
“Thanks, Ms. Maxine,” they called as they left the ice creamery.
William took a long drink of his soda before they set out. They wandered Lilith’s streets, bridges, and alleys, not really paying much attention to where they were going.
A half-hour later, Serena squeezed his arm and pulled him to a halt. “I want to stop in here.” She pointed to Robert Weeks’ smithy and led William inside. The ringing of a hammer from out back could be heard, but there was no one to mind the front of the store.
It didn’t matter. No one would steal anything. Crime hardly ever happened on Arylyn. Anyone could take most anything they wanted and tell the storeowner about it later. The island used no currency and people were expected to pay for what they needed with reciprocal labor of some kind.
“Why are we here?” William asked.
“No reason,” Serena answered. “Just browsing.”
William caught the scent of roses, and he frowned, glancing about as he tried to figure out where it was coming from.
Serena’s face brightened, and she drew his attention. “Look.” She pointed to a small figurine, a red dragon that flapped its wings, clomped forward a short distance, and breathed fire. Next to it rested a vase full of silver-stemmed, copper roses. They were the source of the floral scent filling the room. “Robert has such a delicate touch,” Serena said, sounding admiring.
“Yes, he does,” William agreed in a wistful tone. He wished he had the time to learn smithing, but like everything else, he had to shove those dreams to the back burner. He had to train and become a better warrior. Maybe after Shet was dealt with, he could . . .
He sighed as he realized the direction of his thoughts. Will I always have to defer my gratification?
Serena studied him a moment. “Let’s go.” She gave his hand a squeeze, tugged him outside, and they headed back to the Village Green.
“You never did answer me,” Serena said while they entered a shadowed alley. “What do you plan on doing for Western New Year’s? And don’t say ‘training.’ No one else will be.”
William wasn’t so focused on Shet that he couldn’t set aside a single evening to give over to having fun. He also wasn’t stupid enough to discount Serena’s question. She’d asked him about this twice today, which meant it was important to her. “I’m not going to train,” he said. “I thought I might ask a former mahavan if she wanted to go with me.”
“And maybe I’ll accept that offer from a certain drone,” Serena said, “but only if he ever figures out that a life perpetually deferred isn’t one worth living.”
William scowled. Her advice seemed deeply unfair. “Weren’t you the one who said we had to study? It’s why we deferred—”
“I know,” she interrupted, “and I still believe it, but sometimes you have to live for today. I realized that when we saw that movie last week during our visit to the Far Beyond, Dead Poet’s Society.”
William recalled the movie. He’d loved it, especially its underlying message of carpe diem. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder how he could manage that with Shet looming over them.
They continued their stroll in silence, passing from the coolness of the alley to the sunshine beaming down on the Village Green.
This was William’s favorite setting in Arylyn. The Pacific Ocean surged far below while River Namaste split Lilith’s five cliffs and cascaded downward as a series of waterfalls. Rainbows bathed the village’s various terraces, bridges, and homes in a riot of colors. William knew without looking that the view directly northeast was dominated by Mount Madhava. To the northwest he’d find Sita’s Song, a broad road made of gray flagstones that cut a slender ribbon from Lilith, through the farms of Janaki Valley, and ended at the base of the mountain.
“What do you think? Try to live for today?” Serena asked with a challenging lift to her eyebrows.
William eyed her askance. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“I will when you see reason, and if you do, I’ll even save you a dance.”
In that moment, William couldn’t speak. A summons blared in his heart. Something beckoned. Fury consumed him. It took the form of a snapping, snarling beast and burned his thoughts until nothing remained but unreasoning, red rage. His fists clenched, and a vision arose in his mind, a pale, hairless creature, as tall as Kohl Obsidian and with a mouth like a gangrenous wound.
William stumbled, scared and off-balance as the vision faded. The rage receded into the depths of his mind, but he could still sense it, growling every now and then, low, throaty, and ready to leap forward.
He also remembered an anger like this from another time. It had come from Kohl Obsidian when the necrosed had killed his parents and touched him. This felt similar but far more potent, like a roaring bonfire in place of a lit lantern. And that face . . .
Serena frowned in concern. “William? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.”
PREPARATIONS AND DESIRES
December 1989
* * *
Rukh flared his nostrils in irritation as the councilors continued their endless deliberations. He’d offered his case to them hours ago, and since then, they’d done nothing but argue endlessly about the merits of his presentation. Thus far, none of Lilith’s councilors had said anything of actual meaning. Instead, all they’d put forth was a useless recitation of points made earlier.
He ground his teeth in impatience. By now, the sun lingered late in the sky. He knew it to be true despite the lack of windows in the Council Chamber. A Kumma could always tell the time, and politicians the worlds over did nothing but waste it. They loved speaking and hearing the glory of their useless voices.
Rukh mentally grimaced. He hated politics.
The others in the room—Jessira, Mr. Zeus, William, and Serena—must have sensed his agitation. They eyed him askance, stirring and shifting in their seats—the pews facing the rectangular table behind which sat the councilors. Serena even flicked a worried glance toward the single entrance leading into the drab, boring room.
“I don’t think this is that hard a decision,” said Bar Duba, a large man with the dark skin and hair that proclaimed his lineage as being a native born to Arylyn. “Rukh only offers to instruct those who wish to be trained as part of a militia. Nothing more.” He faced Rukh. “Isn’t that correct?”
Rukh nodded. “After the attack on Sinskrill, we need a military force to defend this island. The mahavans will respond, and Shet will follow on their heels. I think we all know that.”
“I agree,” Mr. Zeus said.
“You weren’t so sanguine about any of this a year ago,” Mayor Lilian Care said to Mr. Zeus in her aristocratic English accent.
&n
bsp; “As you said, that was a year ago,” Mr. Zeus replied as he stroked his long, white beard. “I’ve modified my opinion since then.”
“This is old news,” blurted Zane Blood, an officious man with all the pomp and arrogance of a born bureaucrat. “All of these individuals . . .” he gestured at Rukh and the others, “. . . were intimately involved in that prior undertaking. Of course they urge further action now, but I have yet to see why we should allow it. These rumors about Shet are hearsay and nonsense, as are these unwarranted fears that Sinskrill will attack us.” His eyes widened in feigned amazement. “Exactly how will they achieve this miracle? They don’t even know the location of our island!”
“They’ll know it if Shet tells them,” Serena said.
Zane snorted in derision. “Shet.”
“Yes, Shet,” William said, his voice edged in obvious anger.
Rukh studied the youth with a worried frown. A few days ago William had started to become angry for the smallest of reasons.
Zane chuckled in derision. “Shet is a myth.”
“Think what you wish,” William replied. “We only want a chance to defend ourselves. That’s all we’re asking.”
Zane harrumphed. “Young man, matters are not so simple.”
“Why not?” William challenged.
Rukh sighed as the conversation took a turn down a previously argued dead-end alley. He tuned it out.
Even if the mahavans didn’t attack Arylyn, the magi had to return to Sinskrill. They had to go back and close the anchor line from Seminal. How else could they prevent Shet’s arrival on Earth? As Rukh reckoned matters, it was far better to defeat Sinskrill’s supposed god by avoiding him altogether than hoping to defeat him in face-to-face combat. Their chances at the latter would be vanishingly small given how difficult it had been to overcome Shet’s servant, the Servitor.
When Rukh returned his attention to the discussion, he discovered that Break Foliage, a counselor and a rat-faced, rat-hearted man, was blathering on and on about prudence and cost.