by Davis Ashura
Serena quietly cursed the god who had apparently given Karla supernatural insight into the thoughts of others. “No, it’s only—”
Thankfully, Lien rescued her, interrupting and cutting cut her off from having to comment on Karla’s astute observation. “Rukh starts training his fighters tomorrow,” Lien said. “He says the mahavans will eventually attack us. Are you going to be there?” she asked the Logans.
Karla’s humor fled. “They’re training somewhere north of the enrune fields, right? On the other side of Lakshman’s Bow?”
“Middle of the morning,” Serena said.
Daniella frowned and shifted about, clearly troubled. “Maybe we should be there, too,” she said to her sister.
“I don’t know,” Karla hedged. “It seems a lot to accept.”
“I hope Rukh isn’t too hard on us,” Lien said.
Somehow, Serena doubted it. They’d all have to work hard and focus if they wanted to defeat the mahavans. Another reason to pursue nothing more than friendship with William, said the cowardly part of herself.
William waited alongside twenty other people on a wide, grassy field bereft of any shade or the promise of relief from the sun’s mid-morning heat. No clouds rode the sky and no breeze blew. Instead, bugs flitted about, droning and buzzing while a few lizards slithered from bush to bush. A swampy oppressiveness trapped the air.
The alluring rush of River Namaste flowed from several hundred yards away, and William eyed the cool water wistfully as he sweated.
“I see what you’re eyeing there,” Jake said, standing to William’s left. “I’d rather go swimming, too.”
Serena, who stood to his right, nodded agreement. “I’ll even take Sinskrill’s rain to this muggy heat.”
William didn’t bother replying. His mind was filled with visions of sipping icy lemonade beneath the shade of a tree next to a cool mountain lake.
“I think we’re about to start,” said Ward from nearby as well.
William drew his attention back to the present and glanced down the line at Jason, Daniel, Lien, and the others. Everyone here was young—the older folk either didn’t believe in the approaching danger or had other work to do—and today would be their first day of training. They all wore shorts, t-shirts, and comfortable boots in which to run and eyed Rukh and Jessira, who stood in front of them.
Rukh gave Jessira a brief nod before clasping his hands behind his back. He paced the line of those present and viewed them with quiet scrutiny.
William instinctually drew back his shoulders and straightened his spine until he stood at attention, stiff as a fence post. Rukh continued to study them, and the pregnant quiet became charged, as if a storm or something powerful were about to occur. It continued to build and William found himself holding his breath. He didn’t want to ruin the moment. He wanted to freeze it, capture it forever in his memory. His eyes went to the white-capped waters of the river, to Lakshman’s Bow, all the way to the enrune fields where games were being played. William closed his eyes. This was the instant when Arylyn’s defense began.
Rukh’s voice broke the spell. “I have no grand words to inspire you.”
William opened his eyes, and only then noticed that everyone stood as ramrod straight as he did. Rukh had that kind of effect on a person.
“I only have what’s in my heart,” Rukh said, “and what I believe you already know. The people of Arylyn lead cosseted lives of peace and tranquility, and a true warrior would want that to continue. Though others doubt our mission, better for this island’s beautiful life to continue uninterrupted than for us to be proven right.”
William silently agreed.
Rukh continued. “However, I fear such will not be the case. While others may laugh at what we do, scoff at our fears and mock our preparations, they will nevertheless bless all of you when the storm breaks.” His gaze swept over them. “And the storm will break. It is why you are here: to shelter your brothers and sisters.” He held up a fist. “Faith, dharma, and duty.” He ticked off each word with a separate finger. “Though you may not realize it, these three hallowed words ordain the purpose of your lives. They define what impels you, why you are here, and what you seek to become.”
William wanted to shout agreement. Rukh’s speech touched a core of desire inside him. The words resounded rightly, and he buzzed with the adrenaline rush of wanting to do something mighty—anything, really—so long as it was meaningful.
Jessira moved to stand beside Rukh. “We’ll begin with an explanation of what we expect from each of you,” she said. “The council has granted those volunteering for the Ashokan Irregulars absence from most of the work details you would usually do.” She shared a private smile with Rukh.
Jake leaned in toward William. “What are Ashokan Irregulars?”
William shook his head. “No idea,” he answered. He shushed Jake when Rukh started talking again.
Rukh took up the explanation. “The Ashokan Irregulars is the name for our unit. It is who you now are.”
“Therefore,” Jessira said, “starting this morning and from now on, we’ll meet here and train. We’ll start with a run, which will grow progressively longer and more difficult. None of you can train if you aren’t fit.” She stared at them in challenge. “After that, we’ll take a short break and then drill. We’ll teach you how to fight as a unit.”
“Like you and Rukh do?” William asked.
Jessira quirked a questioning eyebrow.
“When you fought the Servitor, you moved . . .” William struggled to find the right words. “You moved like you had one mind.”
Rukh dipped his head in acknowledgement. “We did move as one. It’s a type of weave, which on our world is called a Duo. We can add up to two more, which is then a Quad, and it’s essentially a hive mind.”
A hundred questions raced through William’s mind, but he didn’t have a chance to ask them.
Jessira had already moved on. “After drilling, we’ll break for lunch, and follow that with another training session in the afternoon.” She held up a hand as a few other people tried to ask questions, and she shouted over them. “Before we begin our run, I want to emphasize one point. Some of you are already somewhat skilled with the sword.” Her gaze briefly rested on William and Serena. “But a great swordsman isn’t as useful to the Irregulars as unit cohesion.” She made a fist of her hand. “We need you to learn to fight as a fist formed from five fingers.”
“What about you and Rukh?” Serena asked. “You’re both great at fighting individually.”
“We fight as one,” Jessira said. “It only seems like we fight individually.”
“Right,” Rukh said. “Remember, when we spar, it is not meant to be to the death. You’ll all wear governors.” He pointed to a stack of leather helmets piled several feet behind him. “I’ll remind you of this from time to time.”
William went still. He remembered how close he’d come to hurting Ward a few weeks back and how he’d vowed again to never lose control of his anger . . . especially since he feared where it came from.
William settled himself with a groan into a wicker chair on Afa Simon’s lanai. He imagined himself melting underneath the noonday sun. Thankfully, a thatched roof provided shade from the unbearable heat. William sighed in appreciation as he closed his eyes and basked in the cool air stirred by the overhead fans, the steady breeze, and the mist from one of River Namaste’s innumerable cascades.
“You look how I feel,” Jake said as he flopped down in a chair next to him.
William didn’t bother replying but merely opened his eyes a crack. Large, red tiles floored the lanai, which overlooked the tropical gardens that made up Afa’s front yard. Several more pieces of wicker furniture, one of which Jake currently occupied, provided additional seating. Afa sat nearby as well.
William’s gaze went to aqua-blue Lilith Bay, a hundred feet below and a half mile away. At such a distance the surf couldn’t be heard above the sound of the whispering waterfall
in Afa’s backyard.
William waved away an annoying bee that drifted into the lanai from the tropical gardens and momentarily wondered how Afa maintained his flowerbeds. As old as he was—older than both Mr. Zeus and Ms. Sioned—and with his perpetually stooped posture, how did he manage to get it done?
“I’m beat,” William said.
“Same here,” Jake agreed with a wheeze. “It was that final drill. I think Rukh was trying to kill us.”
“It’s the sun,” William disagreed. “The drill wouldn’t have been so bad if there had been a breeze or a few clouds to cool us off. We’ve had this muggy weather for weeks now.”
“Training with the Ashokan Irregulars again?” Afa asked. Polynesian warrior tattoos decorated his thin arms and chest, and an omnipresent wide-brimmed hat rested on his otherwise bald head. He took a sip of his lemonade, and William caught him smiling. He likely found their exertions amusing.
The notion of someone laughing at his difficulties caused the red-eyed beast within him to shift and growl as if in question, and William quickly thought of something else. For some reason his mind latched onto Serena. Thinking of her, though, agitated him in other ways, especially thinking of her hair, face, and lips. He cut off that line of thinking and shifted them to Blue Sky Dreamers. It had been weeks since he’d been able to sail the dhow.
Afa cleared his throat. “Was it truly that painful?”
“You have no idea,” Jake said. “Thrust, parry, shield. Thrust, parry, shield. Now sprint!” He mimicked Rukh’s drillmaster cadence.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Afa murmured in sympathy.
William sat up, wanting to get the meeting over with. “What did you want to talk about today?” he asked. “Is it to go over the work schedule? Do you need me and Jake to pitch in more?”
While training with the Ashokan Irregulars allowed him and Jake relief from most of their work duties, it didn’t let them get out of all of it. As raha’asras, no one else could do what they could. They created lorasra, the magic of a saha’asra, something an asrasin could then use to create their braids and weaves. While there were three other raha’asras on Arylyn—Fiona, Ms. Sioned, and Afa Simon—the others were older and it wasn’t fair to leave all the work to them.
Afa didn’t have a chance to answer because Ms. Sioned hobbled into the yard. She leaned on a cane, which William hated seeing her have to use. When he and Jake had first come to Arylyn she hadn’t needed it. Nevertheless, her blue eyes remained bright and curious behind her thick glasses, and her seamed face broke into a smile when she noticed William and Jake.
Trailing close behind her was Arylyn’s third elderly raha’asra, Fiona Applefield. She had her gray hair pulled back in a braid, and her friendly face held a smile of greeting. She looked like someone’s kindly grandmother, although she’d once been an unholy terror to William and Jake. It had occurred in a different life, during their imprisonment on Sinskrill with Fiona as their not-so-kind jailor.
Ms. Sioned eased into a wicker loveseat, and Fiona sat beside her. The two women had become good friends.
Ms. Sioned addressed William and Jake. “Thank you for coming so soon after your training, dears,” she said in her Irish lilt.
“What’s this meeting about?” Jake asked.
“William,” Afa answered.
“What about me?” William asked.
Ms. Sioned eyed him with frank disappointment. “Your anger. Everyone has felt your barbed tongue.”
The monster inside William’s mind murmured in its slumber, and he shifted in his chair, willing it to remain asleep.
Fiona stared at him for a moment. Her eyes widened in astonishment. “It isn’t of you, is it?”
William’s mouth gaped. “How did you know?”
Fiona offered a secret smile, one eerily similar to Serena’s. “A lucky guess.”
Afa held a frown. “What is this?” he asked William. “What does she mean, ‘it isn’t of you?’”
William glanced around the lanai, feeling trapped. The red-eyed beast growled, and he forced it back into the recesses of his mind. The sensation of being caged passed, and he was able to tell the others about when the anger had first occurred. He spoke of the albino creature he’d seen right before the fury entered him. He described its appearance, a snarling, red-eyed monster, and how it resembled the way he’d felt after Kohl Obsidian first touched him when the necrosed killed his parents.
As he spoke, relief and guilt washed over him in equal measure. It felt good to finally let someone else know what he’d been going through, and he also realized he should have spoken up much sooner.
Ms. Sioned scowled at him in obvious anger. “And you never thought to tell anyone of this until now?” she shouted.
William wanted to shrink into his chair and vanish.
Jake shook his head. “You dumbass.”
Fiona, however, stared at him pensively. “Sapient Dormant is said to be an albino. As Overward of the necrosed, he could have been the one you saw, calling you through Kohl’s blood.”
Afa hissed, appalled. “It must be purged from him.”
Fiona nodded. “But we must first learn the truth of what has happened.”
Ms. Sioned shook her head in disappointment at William. “You will set aside your work, up to and including your training with Rukh and his Irregulars if we deem it necessary.”
William opened his mouth to protest.
Afa, usually even-tempered, glared and rapped his cane on the lanai’s floor. “This is not a matter for negotiation. You will attend us.”
“Yes, sir.” William bent his head in defeat and acceptance as well as relief. At least he’d have some help dealing with the anger if it truly did come from the Overward of the necrosed.
“We do have one piece of good news for you,” Ms. Sioned said.
The anger had left her voice, and William lifted his head, hoping she was no longer upset with him. Ms. Sioned smiled at him, and the worried fist clenching his heart eased a little.
She continued to smile. “Your search for information about the anchor lines reminded me of a book I once read in the library. It was decades ago, and I no longer recall the title. However, when I described it to Julius, he sounded certain he could find it.”
William’s curiosity piqued. “What’s it about?”
“Anchor lines,” Ms. Sioned replied. “Did I not tell you that a moment ago?”
William grinned. “Of course.”
Jake also smiled, more of a leer, really, and a gleam sparkled in his eyes. William mentally prepared himself. “Maybe you can ask Serena to help you out,” Jake said. “I’m sure she’d love to spend time alone with you in the dark corners of a library.”
Afa’s eyes lit with interest. “What’s this?” He sat forward.
William rolled his eyes and pretended long-suffering forbearance. “It’s nothing. Just Jake thinking he’s funny.”
“William won’t ask Serena out on a date,” Jake helpfully filled in.
Afa harrumphed and faced William, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Am I to understand that you have yet to court the young lady in question?”
“Yes, sir,” William replied.
Afa sighed in disappointment. “My boy, you’re being a biblical donkey.”
William’s brow creased in confusion. “What?”
“A jackass,” Afa said.
Ms. Sioned cleared her throat, appearing unsure for some reason. “Perhaps it’s for the best that you aren’t courting Serena.”
William shot her a surprised look but was distracted a moment later.
“He hasn’t courted her because he only lives for tomorrow,” Jake said.
William tensed. With no warning, the angry beast broke its shackles, and he spoke without thinking. “And you live for yesterday.” His voice became cruel. “Or did you ever get the stones to ask out Daniella Logan?”
William stared at Jake, aghast and horrified. The anger snuffed out like a light bulb and self
-loathing filled him. His heart pounded. How could I have said that? “I’m sorry,” he said, the words inadequate to express his remorse.
Jake’s face had gone pale. His fists clenched and unclenched. He jerked upright. “You’re lucky we’re friends,” he finally said. He addressed Afa. “Find out what’s wrong with him before I kill him.” He stomped off the lanai.
The other raha’asras stared at William with mingled expressions of pity and horror.
KNOWLEDGE AND STRIFE
March 1990
* * *
Adam held back a scowl of frustration as he waited for his brother’s arrival. They were supposed to meet in Shet’s Hall, which was otherwise empty since Axel was late. Again. It was a common occurrence, one likely meant to emphasize his brother’s importance, and there was nothing Adam could do about it. Axel was the Servitor, and until Shet’s arrival, his brother was the unchallenged ruler of the mahavans.
Adam paced about in impatience, and his breath frosted in the chill air of the unheated Hall. However, he didn’t allow the cold to touch him. He crossed his arms and ignored his discomfort. Cold means nothing.
Rattling sounds from the ceiling drew Adam’s attention. He stared upward where gusts of wind shook the stained-glass windows depicting scenes from Shet’s Counsel. His eyes narrowed as he took in details he hadn’t noticed earlier.
With Sinskrill’s omnipresent clouds, sunshine rarely beamed through the windows, but today a late winter sun made itself known. Beams of light poured through the stained glass and lit the Hall in a rainbow of colors. They also brightened the images and made them more easily visible. In some of them, Shet wore a patient visage, calm and loving, while in others, resoluteness filled his features. But in every single stained-glass picture, blood lay splattered and the right side of Shet’s face was unmarked.
Which meant the images were a lie, something Adam had long suspected. He smirked at the stained-glass images but quickly wiped away all emotions from his face when the tall, gray double-doors to the Hall opened.