William Wilde and the Sons of Deceit

by Davis Ashura

  Jessira offered a crooked smile. “Something tells me it won’t be as easy as that. This Servitor wouldn’t have come here without a means to hurt us. Or defend himself.”

  Serena hoped Jessira was wrong. “Then maybe the Irregulars who went north will quickly finish off the mahavans and help us deal with the Servitor.”

  Jessira scowled. “Rukh leads the Irregulars.” She sounded upset for some reason.

  Serena frowned. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  Jessira nodded, but she still scowled. “It is, but I don’t like being here without him. I’m afraid.”

  Serena found the words stunning. Jessira had always struck her as fearless.

  Jessira’s face cleared. “You misunderstand,” she said, obviously noticing Serena’s shock. “I don’t fear for myself. I fear for Rukh. He battles with reckless abandon. He’ll get himself killed without me.” She muttered. “I only hope Aia and Shon find him soon. They’ll protect him from himself.”

  As an inspiring speech prior to a battle’s eve, Serena found Jessira’s words lacking.

  Jake checked his sword one final time, making sure it slid smoothly from its scabbard. While he’d trained with the weapon daily during the past four or five months, it didn’t mean he felt comfortable having it on his hip. The sword had a single purpose—to kill—and while Jake had killed before—Dalton the Hunter—it didn’t mean he wanted to do it again. Truthfully, he wished he didn’t have to, especially with a sword. To feel the blade penetrate someone else’s flesh, to have it cut and slice. To stand close enough to smell their fear, their breath, and see the light leave their eyes.

  Jake scowled at the thought. No, he wasn’t looking forward to this, but it was happening anyway, and he’d do whatever it took to keep his friends safe.

  He finished packing away his sleeping bag and the rest of his gear and racked the equipment on his bicycle. Once done, he took time to study the rest of the camp.

  The sky held a rosy hue, barely visible through the thick fog that the Irregulars had raised last night. The misty air hugged the ground, eddying all around them and much of the surrounding jungle. Hopefully it hid them from the unformed, although it did nothing to silence the birds waking up with sunrise and calling out from the nearby trees. Nor did it mask the stink of nervousness coming off the Irregulars or the moldy scent like stale grass clippings wafting off the jungle.

  At least the fog hushed many of the noises the warriors made as they moved around in quiet efficiency and professionalism. No pots clanged, no loud conversations emanated, and no sudden shouts of laughter rang out, only the shuffling of boots across the flagstone pavers of the Riven Road.

  Jake watched the Irregulars. Some were busy stowing their gear while others had already finished their packing and gathered in small groups to share a cold, quiet breakfast of jerky and boiled potatoes. As Jake observed them, he tried not to think about how many of them might die today.

  His thoughts were interrupted when Ward called for a meeting with him and Julius, the two lieutenants. Ward waited in front of his tent with crossed arms and a furious frown.

  Jake arrived first and waited on Julius. The one-time Rastafarian had long since shaved his dreadlocks, and seriousness had replaced his usual happy-go-lucky demeanor.

  “Word came in from Rukh,” Ward said after Julius arrived. “The mahavans are on the move.”

  Jake’s heart-rate picked up. A pulse of adrenaline pounded through him, and he bounced on his feet.

  Ward scowled, though, like he’d eaten something sour. “The bad news is that they’ve abandoned the Riven Road.”

  Jake’s nervous energy faded, and he and Julius shared a frown of confusion. Questions tumbled through his mind. “Where’d they go?”

  “And how’d they sneak away?” Julius asked. “We had everything clamped down.”

  “How should I know?” Ward said. “We thought they were settled in for the night. The scouts on the rises never saw anything. But sometime in the middle of the night, the mahavans broke camp and vanished down the side of a rocky hill and into the wilderness. Rukh has scouts on their trail, but the mahavans are moving fast.”

  Julius swore. “I still don’t understand how they knew to leave right then and there.”

  “Their damned unformed must have figured it out,” Ward said, still scowling. “Anyway, Rukh isn’t sure where they went, but he doesn’t like whatever they’re doing. He thinks they’ve split their forces.”

  Jake cursed. Stupid mahavans. Why couldn’t they just do what they were expected to? He had been worried about today’s battle for weeks now. He’d spent the entire night thinking about it. This morning the worry had changed to acceptance. At this point, he only wanted to get it over with. To learn it would be delayed pissed him off.

  “Damn mahavans,” Julius said, sounding every bit as bitter as Jake felt.

  Ward nodded agreement.

  Jake spoke. “If they’re off the road, can Rukh follow the mahavans by bicycle?”

  “No,” Ward said with a sigh. “The mahavans took a rugged path. Depending on which way they go, it can add days to their travel to Lilith, but regardless, Rukh and the others will have to follow them on foot.”

  Julius no longer scowled. Instead, he wore a pensive expression, and he began pacing. “What if they never intended to go to Lilith?”

  “What do you mean?” Ward asked.

  Julius hesitated, apparently unsure. A moment later, his energy deflated. “I don’t know. Nothing, I guess. But why would they abandon the road?”

  “Maybe the unformed saw the rockslide and fog, and they put two and two together,” Jake suggested.

  “It’s possible,” Ward agreed, “but at this point it also doesn’t matter.”

  “What do we do then?” Jake asked. “Hold our position?”

  “No,” Ward said. “Rukh wants us to fall back. He wants us closer to Lilith in case the mahavans have separated their forces. We have to be in place to defend the village.”

  Jake thought about it. “Makes sense,” he said after a moment. “He wants us to create a line of defense instead of chasing the mahavans all over the island.”

  “Is that what Rukh’s going to do?” Julius asked. “Chase the mahavans down?”

  Jake answered. “He’ll have to. We can’t have a large group of armed hostiles roaming the countryside. We need to end this. Now.”

  “Amen,” Ward breathed, “but that’s Rukh’s job. He’ll call and let us know if the plans change, but for now, we break camp and head south.”

  “How far south?” Jake asked.

  “North of Janaki,” Ward said. “Here. Look.” He dragged a portable desk out from his tent and unrolled a map of Arylyn. He set small stones on the corners to hold it in place and pointed to where the Riven Road branched off Sita’s Song. “Rukh wants us here, directly north of the entrance to Janaki Valley.”

  Julius nodded. “We’d still be in position to either block them from entering the valley or bring support to wherever Rukh needs us.”

  Jake studied the terrain leading off from where the mahavans had made camp. “It’ll take the mahavans a long time to reach us from there.”

  Julius frowned as well. “For some reason, I’m doubting they’ll spend days or weeks wandering around Arylyn’s interior. They’ve never struck me as stupid.”

  Ward nodded grim agreement. “This would be a lot easier if they were.”

  Jake frowned more deeply as he stared at the map. A worrying idea slowly developed in his mind. “Do we have numbers on how many mahavans left the camp?”

  Ward must have picked upon his agitation. “What are you thinking about?”

  Jake chewed his lower lip in thought. “If the mahavans knew enough to get off the Riven Road at the exact moment they did, then like I said, they probably knew they were about to run into an ambush.”

  Julius grunted. “Right, but it still doesn’t explain how they figured it out.”

  “We can worry abo
ut that some other time,” Jake said. He continued to study the map, quickly measuring distances and making rough calculations. “Rukh is worried that the Sinskrill forces might have separated, and I’m thinking about what that might mean.” He finished his calculations and met the eyes of the other two men. “What if the unformed formed one group and the mahavans formed the other?”

  “Why’s that important?” Julius asked. “From what we know the unformed are commanded by a Prime, and while they’re deadly, they don’t know how to fight as a unit.”

  “But the Servitor and Adam Paradiso do know how to command a military unit,” Jake said, “and Serena said both of them are unformed. She told us back on Sinskrill, right before me and William escaped with her and Selene.”

  Ward’s blood drained from his face. “The unformed can fly.”

  Julius retrieved his satellite phone. “We need to let Lilith know what might be coming their way.”

  Adam smiled as he listened to the magi commanders discuss their plans. So. They intend to block the passage to Sita’s Song. Then we’ll have to enter Janaki south of them. He never paused from the fast march that he’d set for his forces—they needed distance from the World Killer. He unfurled his map as he strode along and quickly found what he was looking for.

  Firedeep Gorge. A narrow trail. It entered Janaki in the middle portion of the valley, well south of Ward and his magi. Perfect.

  BATTLE JOINED

  October 1990

  * * *

  “Ships!” Fiona shouted.

  Serena startled awake. The sun had barely risen, and the sky held the faintest pink that transitioned to a deep blue hue that slowly pushed back the black. The floral scent of gardenias puffed with every breeze, and an obnoxious rooster cawed, but Serena paid the bird no mind. Around her slumbered the fifty Irregulars meant to man the cannons mounted along Clifftop. They stirred, some wakening more quickly than others.

  Serena surged out of her sleeping bag, kicking her way to her feet. She joined Fiona and Mr. Zeus at the edge of the Village Green and stared down at Lilith Bay. For once the village’s beauty held none of her attention.

  Jessira quickly arrived as well. She scanned the bay with a pair of binoculars.

  Serena spied the ships in Lilith Bay, small from the distance. She wanted to see them more clearly and sourced her lorethasra. She layered a mix of Air and Water upon a foundation of Spirit before reaching for a dendritic root of lorasra and creating a weave. The air in front of her eyes hardened and took the shape of a pair of lenses. The ships in the bay came into immediate focus.

  Fiona and Mr. Zeus had also created braids similar to Serena’s and examined the vessels, too.

  Jessira noticed the weaves. “I really need to learn to do that,” she murmured. She gazed through her binoculars once more, returning her regard to the ships entering the harbor.

  Serena scanned the Sinskrill fleet. “Demolition,” she noted. “The Servitor’s flagship.”

  “It flies his standard,” Fiona confirmed. “It’s the one with the black chair and white spear on a field of dark gray.”

  “Those other four vessels are more modern, though,” Jessira said, frowning in concentration as she peered at the fleet. She cursed. “They have cannons, four per vessel, two each on starboard and port, except for Demolition. That one has five. One on the prow.”

  Serena narrowed the focus of her ‘binoculars’ and saw what Jessira meant. The Sinskrill cannons mounted on each ship were longer than the ones William had developed, but there was no mistaking that shape.

  Mr. Zeus seemed to be counting. “I make fifteen crew per ship,” he said. “Including the flagship.”

  Jessira nodded. “Agreed, and if their cannons are like ours, they’ll require five mahavans to fire each one.” She tilted her head in thought. “Except for the Servitor. As powerful as he is, he can probably fire a cannon by himself.”

  Daniella Logan, who stood nearby, had also been staring at the ships, and she swore. “How did they learn to make a cannon?” She glared at Serena and Fiona.

  Serena shook her head. “I have no idea. They didn’t have any when I was there.”

  Fiona replied as well. “Likely the Servitor knew the secret of their manufacture all along. His bloodline holds secrets we can only guess upon.”

  Serena figured the same, although there was another possibility. “Or maybe Lord Shet told him.”

  “What makes you think that?” Mr. Zeus asked.

  Serena shook her head helplessly. “I don’t know. It’s just a thought.”

  Jessira’s features took on a serene but firm countenance. “It doesn’t matter how or when they learned. They have cannons, and we have work to do.” She barked orders. “Back away from the cliff’s edge. Get to the cannons. Ranging shots first, but if possible, I want those ships sunk before breakfast.”

  Mr. Zeus chuckled. “Now that’s a plan I can get behind.”

  They rolled the cannons forward and set them up ten feet from the cliff’s edge. Each one had a barrel made of black marble lined with gray steel and squatted between heavy wagon wheels. The weapon’s bore was wide but short, and it reminded Serena of an armless fire hydrant tipped onto its side. A wheel crank allowed for adjustment of the barrel’s elevation.

  “Ranging fire only,” Jessira reminded them. “Save your strength and your energy. Once we have their distance, we’ll make them wish they never came here.”

  Serena took heart from her words. She moved to her position next to Fiona, Mr. Zeus, and the Logan sisters. Karla loaded a shell into the cannon they’d been assigned. After she stepped aside, everyone sourced their lorethasra. The various scents of their asra wafted on the breeze as Daniella wove a hissing braid of Air that twined from her neck to her hips. From Mr. Zeus came a rumbling strand of Earth that curled around his abdomen and legs. He gathered it in his hands. Karla created a thick braid of Water, gurgling and washing over her shoulders and down her arms.

  Serena took a deep breath. My turn. She formed a thick thread of Fire, not paying attention to its sulfur stink. She attached it to the corresponding Element from lorasra.

  Finally came Fiona with her silver Spirit. She nodded her readiness and shouted, “Go!”

  Serena and the other three magi united their weaves upon the nomasra in the cannon’s bore. The black shell slowly brightened, radiating like an old-style light-bulb slowly coming to life. Fiona attached her braid of Spirit to it, and the nomasra plate grew thicker, transforming into a globe. The shell’s glow grew incandescent.

  After a few more seconds Fiona let the nomasra explode out of the cannon.

  Serena tracked the munition’s movement as it left a streak of light across the sky. Fiona remained attached to it through her line of Spirit, and she sent it hurtling at Demolition. The nomasra juked right and left, and Serena figured the mahavans sought to tear control of it from her grandmother’s grasp. They failed. The shell continued to shift its flight. It eventually steadied, ripping downward. It was aimed dead-on for Demolition. Serena leaned forward in anticipation.

  Yards above Demolition’s mainmast, a gray webbing, something that resembled Rukh’s and Jessira’s Shields, crackled around the ship. The shell detonated impotently against the protective barrier, the sound reaching them seconds later.

  Serena gaped in dismay. She shared an expression of shock with Fiona and Mr. Zeus. What the hell was that?

  The other cannon crews ran into the same problem.

  Jessira remained unperturbed. “Keep up the fire. Let’s see if their protection weakens.”

  Ten more shells from each crew and ten similar fruitless results followed her command.

  “Switch crews,” Jessira ordered.

  Serena stepped aside, tired from her sourcing and frustrated by their lack of success.

  Mr. Zeus pulled her aside. “Go check on your sister. Make sure she’s all right. We may have a long day ahead of us and you never know how it might end.”

  Serena nodded.
Until the advent of that gray webbing, she hadn’t believed the battle for Arylyn could end in anything other than victory. Now, she wasn’t so certain.

  William crowded next to Jason, Daniel, and Rukh as the four of them pored over a set of maps spread out on a fold-up table. The late morning sun shimmered in the sky, and the air contained a thick, damp quality. It promised to be a hot day, and it didn’t help that his camouflaged hemp clothing trapped his sweat. He fanned himself with his shirt, lifting it off his chest. Gnats buzzed about in the motionless air and pestered him as they flew around his head. He blew them away with a small blast of Air.

  Rukh leaned close to the map. With a grimace of concern he traced the line of a narrow valley a few miles away. After discovering that the mahavans had departed from their campsite in the middle of the night, they’d been forced to ditch their bikes and chase them on foot, sending groups of scouts up ahead. After a full day of pursuing the Sinskrill warriors, they had finally brought them to bay.

  Rukh had been wary of ambushes. A few minutes ago, they’d received word from a unit that believed the mahavans were readying to make a stand in a canyon with a tapering entrance and an even narrower exit. Rocky, low-lying hills surrounded it. It was the same valley that Rukh traced on the map with his finger.

  William flicked his eyes across the terrain surrounding them, and he shifted nervously. He didn’t like stopping here in this canyon hemmed by tall hills. There were too many places for an ambush. He gazed about, imagining who might be crouched behind the large mounds of grass covering portions of the hard ground, which was a mix of shale and clay. He worried about who might be hidden on the other side of the cluster of stunted trees growing next to a pencil-thin stream.

  Rukh didn’t so much as flick his gaze away from the map. “No enemy is near us.”

  Jason glanced up from where he’d been working a stone out of one of his boots. He’d picked it up during their pursuit of the mahavans across the rocky rises near Mount Madhava. “How can you be so sure?”