William Wilde and the Unusual Suspects

by Davis Ashura

  William frowned, trying to fathom creatures who could transform the very geography of the world like that. Modern asrasins didn’t have such power.

  “Eventually, the Befouler and his Bride gained control of the saha’asra housing the anchor line to Seminal,” Serena continued, “and they attempted to cross over. Their actions forced Lord Shet to bring forth his full might. He cast the Befouler and his Bride down, but the battle proved costly.

  “In his final act, the Befouler shut off the anchor line to Seminal, reckoning if he couldn’t go to the heavenly abode of Lord Shet, no one could. Thus was a stalemate born between mahavans and magi that exists even to this day.”

  Silence filled the front porch after Serena’s story.

  “Now that’s how to teach history,” Jake said to Jason.

  Serena frowned as she ascended the Main Stairs that bisected Cliff Spirit.

  Lilith’s glory spread around her, and most moments, it still made her eyes widen in awe. Right now, however, her thoughts were elsewhere, on the history lesson Jason had given them. She couldn’t help but compare and contrast what he had told her with what she’d been taught on Sinskrill, and she found herself speculating on where the truth lay.

  Some details were the same. Ancient asrasins had formed opposing camps, becoming the mahavans and the magi. A great, continent-spanning war had broken out, one that had shattered the world, but key details differed.

  Serena wondered which history, which competing myth, more fully explained what had happened to cause such a horrific war. Probably Arylyn’s given Shet’s terrifying nature. Peaceful and patient he was not, at least not during her one accidental meeting on Seminal with Sinskrill’s god.

  Her inward thoughts broke when an opportunity to take William’s advice from several weeks ago presented itself. He had suggested that she make herself more accessible to the people of Lilith. It hadn’t been difficult to do, smiling and pretending interest in the lives of others. Of course, most of her curiosity had been feigned, playacting, something in which she had a great deal of experience and expertise.

  Somewhere along the way, though, she’d found herself bored by her deceptions. Lying without purpose held no appeal. Strangely enough, shortly after that recognition she’d actually come to enjoy her conversations with the magi of Arylyn.

  Another such interaction could be had now as Reed Stephens, the old-world tailor and owner of Saville Sew, a clothing store, descended the Main Stairs toward her. He dressed formally, or what counted for formal on the island, with a button-up shirt and tan trousers. Upon his gray-haired head perched a top hat, and he puffed on a pipe.

  “Good morning, Magus Stephens,” Serena said, greeting him with the formality and decorum she suspected he favored based on his prim and proper bearing.

  He appeared surprised by her acknowledgment, but he quickly recovered and smiled. “Good morning to you, Ms. Paradiso,” he said with a brisk nod of his head. “While I appreciate your formality, ours is an informal island. Please call me Reed, or Mr. Stephens if you can’t bring yourself to address an older man by his first name.”

  “Mr. Stephens it is,” Serena said with an answering smile.

  “Thank you,” he said. “Are you settling in well, Ms. Paradiso?”

  “Call me Serena. I’m settling in as well as can be expected, sir,” she said. “There is much to learn, and in more important ways, unlearn.”

  “Indeed,” he replied, his tone solemn. “Sinskrill likely taught you many things we would count as rubbish. Our islands have very different philosophies.” He doffed his hat. “I really wish I could spend more time speaking to you, but I have work to attend.”

  Serena smiled. “Then I won’t keep you. Have a good day.”

  “You as well, Ms. Serena.”

  He passed by, and she glanced at his receding back in consideration. Mr. Stephens reputedly made women’s attire as well as men’s, and she and Selene both needed some new clothes.

  Serena made a mental note to stop in his store later on.

  For now, she continued up the Main Stairs, and on Lilith’s topmost terrace she found more people out and about. She made a point of smiling at those who met her eye, calling them by name if she knew it, and learning them if she didn’t.

  Serena had another hour before she had to pick up Selene, and her wanderings took her to the enrune fields. Grassy swatches stretched before her as magi raced about, chasing a red ball the size of a grapefruit and the weight of a pineapple.

  Serena shook her head in bemusement. These people … Why would they waste their time playing a game—enrune—and racing around a field like headless chickens? And how did they have so much leisure time? No one on Sinskrill did. The mahavans and the drones struggled to survive their island’s less hospitable climate.

  Serena walked the sidelines and observed a few matches, but she came no closer to understanding the reason for this silly game or its rules. All she could tell was that shorts and t-shirts seemed to be a requirement, and no one wore shoes.

  On the far side of the enrune fields, near the shores of River Namaste before it tumbled over the cataracts, she found Lien sitting alone on a bench and watching a match.

  “Mind if I sit down?” Serena asked.

  Lien glanced her up and down before shrugging and scooting over.

  Serena sat down and watched the game unfold. She had no idea what was going on. “What are the rules?” she asked Lien.

  “It’s enrune,” Lien said. “There are fourteen players per side, and each team has to defend two goals apiece.” She pointed. “The smaller ones across from each other on the short side of the field are the halves, and the ones at opposite the long ends are the fulls. The object is to get the woda, the wooden ball wrapped in red leather, into a goal. If you score a full, it’s worth five points. Score a half, it’s worth two.”

  Serena grew interested despite her earlier antipathy. “They wear a glove on one hand to catch the woda,” she noted, “and they mainly move the ball about with the Elements.”

  “Yeah. You can run five steps with the woda in hand, but then you have to bounce it. If you hold it up with Air, you can go as far as you want, or until someone stops you.”

  Serena concentrated on the braids used by the players. Cords of Air hissed like a hundred serpents while flickers of red Fire rippled across the ground and threads of ivy-like Earth twined from just above the ankles to well above head-height. “They’re mostly using Earth and Air,” Serena noted. Her eyes widened. “That boy used Fire on the woda to make it too hot to handle.”

  “As long as you don’t burn the woda to a crisp, the rules are pretty open to interpretaiton. You can even use Earth to trip a person or Air to leap over obstacles.” Lien smirked. “You should try that if you ever decide to play,” she said. “The higher you go, the harder the fall when someone smacks you down.”

  Serena grimaced. “I think I’ll pass,” she said. “How do you win?”

  “The game goes on for thirty-five minutes, or until one team scores twenty-five points.” Lien fully faced her. “For the record, I’m only talking to you for courtesy’s sake. Don’t think I’m doing this out of friendship. You burned that bridge to ashes.”

  Serena suddenly noticed others standing nearby, listening in on her conversation with Lien. She felt the weight of their stares and flicked a glance at them. They eyed her with faces full of mistrust, revulsion, and in some cases, contempt.

  Anger flared through Serena. The hell with them. Who were they to judge her? They hadn’t grown up on Sinskrill or been forced to survive and thrive by any means necessary. Laughter and joy were easy when life was offered up on a platter.

  Disgust also coursed through Serena, disgust with herself. How could she have thought that a few conversations with strangers, some smiles and laughs, would change the opinions of these people? It was like Selene said. The people of Arylyn lied. They weren’t open-hearted enough to make friends out of strangers, at least not to a mahavan of
Sinskrill. They’d never offered her a second chance.

  Serena tried not to flush as she stood, and focused instead on hardening the armor around her heart. No weakness would touch her. “I understand,” she said to Lien. “I won’t bother you again.” She paused before leaving. “And for the record, I wasn’t looking for a friend.”

  Only then did she stalk away, ignoring the stares of those who dared judge her and find her wanting.

  “Play is every day,” Lien called to her. “Show up if you want to.”

  With Lien’s offer, Serena’s heart unclenched slightly. She nodded over her shoulder, but made no deeper acknowledgement.

  “Your face used to look weird when you smiled,” Selene told Serena later that same afternoon, as they walked home through Clifftop. “It looks normal now.”

  Serena’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean? What was weird about it?”

  “On Sinskrill, when you smiled it would be like this.” Selene mimicked the dull affect of a drone and added a grotesque smile, a lip-curling sneer that made her appear constipated.

  Serena broke out in laughter.

  “See? That looks normal. Now you don’t look weird.”

  Serena continued laughing as they crossed the Village Green. After Selene’s classes, they’d taken a long hike through Janaki Valley, the place where most of the island’s farms could be found. Now they headed home, with the sun hanging low over the Pacific, as orange and large as a pumpkin, and shadows collecting. Both of them were sweaty and in need of a shower, and Serena briefly flirted with the notion of standing beneath one of the numerous waterfalls splitting Lilith’s escarpment in order to wash off some of the dirt.

  They reached the gazebo centered in the Green and ran across Jason. He appeared to be in a hurry, but he slowed down to match their pace. Serena wished he hadn’t. In most cases, he treated her more poorly than William and Jake did.

  “I hear you’re finally starting to settle in here,” Jason said.

  “William suggested I try to make some friends,” Serena said as they crossed the Village Green.

  “You had friends,” Jason noted. “At least, we thought you were a friend. We would have stood with you against anyone, even Sinskrill.”

  Annoyance flared within Serena. Not this again. All the people she’d known in Cincinnati—William, Jason, Lien, Daniel, and Jake—insisted on throwing her failures back in her face. No more. She’d had enough, especially after today’s conversation with Lien.

  “Go home,” Serena said to Selene, keeping her voice calm and controlled. “I’ll catch up in a bit.” She waited until Selene was out of earshot. “I’m done apologizing to you,” she said to Jason, glaring at him. “If you don’t like me, I don’t care. It’s a big island and a large village. You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.”

  “Fine by me,” Jason replied with an arrogant sneer. “As far as I’m concerned, after I’m done teaching you, we never have to talk again. And just so we’re clear, you never apologized. Not to me and certainly not to William or Jake.”

  Serena snorted. “That’s what has you upset? That I hurt your little feelings by not saying sorry?”

  “Nothing about you upsets me.”

  Serena scoffed. “Sure it doesn’t.”

  “It’s the truth,” Jason said. “And if the truth bothers you, maybe you should figure out why.”

  “It doesn’t bother me,” Serena lied. “Faced with the same situation, I wouldn’t have done anything different. Selene’s life depended on it.”

  “And you wonder why I keep reminding you of what you did,” Jason said with a derisive snort. “You’d let Arylyn burn as long as you could justify it later by claiming victimhood.”

  “I’m not a victim,” Serena snapped, wondering how the conversation had gotten away from her.

  Jason shook his head in disgust. “Listen. If you ever figure out the world isn’t about you, let me know. You might be worth talking to again.”

  “I don’t need or want to talk you.”

  “And I don’t forgive assholes who’re too stupid and arrogant to apologize for what they did.” Jason pushed past her. “You have a nice life.”

  Serena stared after him, flushed and fuming with rage and shame. Who was he to talk to her like that? She drew on her lorethasra as her anger grew ever hotter. Her vision seemed to redden as she watched Jason walk away, and she silently snarled. Almost without thinking, she formed the braid known as Pain, a more severe form of the one Fiona had occasionally used on William and Jake.

  Jason deserved it. They all did.

  The notion grew ever more seductive, and Serena prepared to unleash her braid. But before she could do so, an unbidden image arose in her mind, one of her mother, Cinnamon, lying bleeding and dying. She remembered her mother’s pain at the hands of mahavan society, and a dawning sense of horror overcame Serena as she realized what she’d almost done. She let go of the braid and panted as if she’d climbed a thousand stairs.

  “That could have gone better,” William said.

  Serena started. William approached from the Main Stairs. “You heard everything?” she asked, leaning on her mahavan training to suppress the horror she still felt. She also prayed that William hadn’t seen the braid she’d held. She couldn’t imagine his reaction if he understood its purpose.

  “Most of it,” William said with a chuckle.

  Serena breathed out her relief. Apparently, William hadn’t seen her braid or he didn’t understand what it was meant to do.

  “Selene tried to eavesdrop,” William continued, “but I sent her home before Jason reached the good parts and told you off. You do deserve it, after all.”

  Serena’s relief ebbed. Here it comes. More insults. “I suppose you’re going to tell me I should beg for forgiveness, too.”

  William surprised her by shaking his head. “What would be the point? I might as well bang my head against a brick wall. You’re too stubborn to listen to anyone but yourself.”

  “Maybe if others had something worth listening to, I’d pay attention.”

  William scowled. “Forget it. Jason was right. A few smiles and nods don’t change anything. You’re still the same idiot you were on Sinskrill.”

  “You’re still the weak little baby, crying out because your pacifier fell out.”

  “And where has your strength led you?” William asked. “I’ve got friends here, family in a lot of ways. Who do you have, other than Selene?”

  His words stung, but Serena wouldn’t admit it. She wouldn’t back down, either. Weaknesses could never be accepted. “I don’t need your help.”

  “I wasn’t offering it.”

  Frustration mounted inside her, too quickly to contain. It burst like a lanced boil. “What do you want from me?” she shouted.

  “I hate you for what you did to me,” William said in a quiet tone, “but I love you for the friendship we had, and a part of me hurts to see you hurt. If you want to be strong and alone, you can be, but I don’t think that’s the truth.”

  She rocked back. His words caught her off guard. “You don’t know me,” she muttered a moment later as her anger deflated.

  “Maybe not, but whose fault is that? You lied about everything.”

  Not everything, she wanted to say. She had genuinely liked William, enjoyed being around him. Even now, seeing him with a lock of hair curled over an eye, she wanted to reach up and push it off his forehead. “I told you before, everyone lies. Get over it.”

  “They don’t lie in the way you mean,” William said. “Besides which, I may not know you very well, but I know you well enough. You don’t want to be alone. Otherwise, you wouldn’t care so much about Selene, or be willing to help save Travail and Fiona.”

  Serena stared at William, anguish warring with the need to suppress weakness. “What do you want from me?” she asked again.

  “I want you to be happy,” William replied, before marching away from her.

  Sinskrill
>
  Adam Paradiso often used his physicality, his intimidating build to impress his will upon others. It didn’t matter if they were mahavans or drones. All it generally took was his silent, imposing presence to convince others of their folly, especially if it consisted of opposing Adam’s will. It also helped that he was a powerful wielder of lorethasra, skilled in Fire, Earth, and Air. That, too, could be intimidating.

  Only his brother, Axel—the Servitor—had stood immune to Adam’s unique brand of diplomacy.

  Now there was another.

  He stood chained upon Seminal, the world of gods and legends. The place Adam’s spirit had traveled when he’d gripped the Spear and tapped his lorethasra. Axel had insisted upon this venture, and Adam hated him for it. He hated how fearful this place made him. Already he’d seen all manner of fearsome creatures: dragons, ghouls, necrosed, unformed, and even elegant vampires in their dark courts. Deadly monsters all, alive and ruling this world.

  But this place was the worst. Here, where high-peaked, snow-capped mountains carried a wind bitter with ice and ruin. Here, where the sun itself seemed loathe to touch the land. Here, where inky shadows crawled liquid and purposeful across menacing valleys. Here, one mountain loomed above all others and held a ledge that jutted forth like the blade of an axe. Upon that narrow slip of rock stood a single being: Lord Shet.

  Adam’s spirit floated high above Sinskrill’s true master, but nevertheless, he felt as if he was staring up. While thick, smoky chains—slack now, but powerful enough to keep a battleship in place—reached from deep in the heart of the mountain and bound Sinskrill’s god, they did nothing to diminish the lord’s sense of power, his terrifying presence.

  Adam wanted to flee and hide.

  But he couldn’t.

  “Come closer, child,” Shet said with a smile made grotesque by the burn ruining the right side of his face. “Tell me what news you know of Sinskrill. What of the two females who insulted me.”