William Wilde and the Unusual Suspects

by Davis Ashura

  Serena and Selene. It had to be the ones to whom Shet referred.

  Adam and his brother had already rehearsed what to say if Shet asked such a question. But to lying to a god? Could it be done? And was it wise?

  Adam shook off his thoughts. “They have been dealt with, my Lord,” he said, his tone firm and with no hint of a quaver.

  “Dealt with?” Shet seemed to draw out the words. “Exactly how were they dealt with?”

  “Drowned at sea when they sought to flee justice,” Adam answered.

  “So your brother answered as well,” Shet said. The god smiled again, and Adam found himself wishing he wouldn’t. His smile was terrifying. “It is good to know I have such loyal servants awaiting my return.”

  “Yes, my Lord,” Adam said, not allowing the relief to show on his face. Shet had believed his lie.

  “It is good to have met you.” Shet pronounced. “I’ll have much more to say to you in the coming months and years.”

  Adam couldn’t help it. He swallowed heavily. The lord’s words hung like an unsheathed dagger.

  “You may leave,” Shet said, with a noble dip of his head.

  Adam bowed before departing. He moved at a sedate pace, not wanting to give any hint of his fear or guilt. However, as soon as he could no longer see Shet’s mountain, Adam raced for the anchor line. He wanted to to get away from Seminal as swiftly as possible.

  Shet was coming. The True God save them all.

  Seminal

  Shet watched as the mahavan slowly left and smiled when the man sprinted for the anchor line.

  Proof of the mahavan’s perfidy, which meant Adam Paradiso and the Servitor had been lying.

  It was as Shet had always suspected. Those two girls who had spoken to him several months ago. The ones who had dared to claim ignorance of who he was—the gravest insult—they lived. Of this, Shet was certain, but it didn’t matter.

  He would end their shameful lives soon enough. He would end all their shameful lives, every asrasin on Earth. All would fall. None would be spared. After all, it had been on their behalfs—magi and mahavan alike—that the ancient Elementals, the Lord of the Sword and the Lady of Fury, had fought.

  As a result, all would pay.

  Shet only wished that his oldest of enemies still lived so he could kill them anew. He would burn them, destroy them utterly this time, in the same way his daughter and her legions had laid waste to the Lord and Lady’s home of Arisa.

  Mr. Zeus droned on and on about Arylyn’s founding, a topic William had already been told about. As a result, his mind wandered.

  Another perfect day awaited, one in which he should be exploring Arylyn, playing in the ocean, or doing anything more interesting than sitting in the small courtyard behind Mr. Zeus’ house, alongside Serena and listening to a lesson he already knew. Jason had told him and Jake all about it a couple of days ago.

  Speaking of Jake, where was he? He should be here, too.

  Somehow he’d gotten out of today’s lecture. William wished he’d been able to manage that slick trick.

  Serena, on the other hand, had apparently never learned about Arylyn’s founding. She sat next to William on a couch beneath the jasmine-wreathed pergola in the rear courtyard, listening intently to Mr. Zeus’ droning. She wore the air of disconcerting intensity William had often noticed back when she’d pretended to be his friend at St. Francis High.

  William’s mind drifted again, and his gaze flickered to the courtyard. Thirty feet back, the ruddy-veined, dark granite of Arylyn’s cliffs rose up like the sheer walls of a fortress. It formed the back border of Mr. Zeus’ property, and the remnant of one of River Namaste’s cascades seeped down its stony face. From there, the water became a meandering stream that cut through the front yard. A narrow strip of grass and a flagstone patio containing a firepit and several chairs filled out the rest of the space.

  Serena shifted next to him, and William eyed her askance. He wondered what she might be thinking, other than her obvious interest in Arylyn’s history.

  Since their argument a few days ago at Clifftop, she hadn’t said much to him. In fact, other than their classes he hardly saw her at all. As upset as she’d been, he figured she was probably avoiding him.

  A few months ago the idea of upsetting her, of causing her emotional pain, would have left him unmoved, but since she’d helped him and Jake escape Sinskrill, and especially since their arrival in Arylyn, those feelings had slowly withered.

  “Next week you’ll meet the Memories,” Mr. Zeus said loudly. “Right, William?”

  William’s attention riveted back to the here and now. “Yes, sir,” he snapped.

  Mr. Zeus rolled his eyes. “You can pretend you were actually listening, but we both know you weren’t.”

  William deflated. He hadn’t been as subtle about his inattentiveness as he should have been.

  “Next time, don’t disrespect my teachings with your obvious boredom.” Mr. Zeus’ voice crackled with irritation.

  “Yes, sir.”

  William caught Serena glance at him. Her face might have held empathy, and William stared at her, wondering if he’d actually seen it.

  “Any questions?” Mr. Zeus asked.

  “These Memories and this tour I keep hearing about,” Serena said. “Do I really have to go through with it?”

  “All citizens of Arylyn have to, including you.”

  Serena brightened. “If I’m a citizen, can I have a stronger voice in my future?”

  William mentally rolled his eyes at her audacity. Idiot.

  Mr. Zeus glowered. “Don’t push it,” he warned. “You live amongst us, but it doesn’t mean we trust you.”

  Serena shrugged. “Returning to the notion of these Memories, I still don’t understand what they are.”

  Neither did William, no matter how many times it had been explained to him.

  “What don’t you understand?” Mr. Zeus asked.

  “Everything. I understood what you said about how several races inhabiting Arylyn left a part of themselves behind. What I don’t get is how they did it, or why.”

  “Think of them like this. Memories aren’t ghosts or souls,” Mr. Zeus said. “They’re more like the afterimages of those who once lived, but because of their magic they left a portion of what they had once been upon the soil of the land.”

  “Like a fossil?” William asked, interested in the direction the lecture had taken.

  “More like the hollowed shape a fossil leaves behind in the rocks surrounding it,” Mr. Zeus said.

  “Why did you only save the elves and the dwarves?” Serena asked. “Were there no other races worthy of being made into Memories?”

  “We saved no one,” Mr. Zeus said. “The Memories of the elves and dwarves were created through the magic of those two races alone. The other races didn’t have such abilities, and they faded into extinction.”

  “They aren’t extinct,” Serena said.

  Mr. Zeus sighed. “Ah, yes. Seminal.”

  “It’s real,” William said. “Travail believed it, and from what I’ve learned, some other saha’asras have lorasra that stinks like Sinskrill’s. Maybe they have a common source.”

  “Which proves what?” Mr. Zeus asked. “I need more than smelly lorasra to believe in Seminal.”

  Jake, William, and Jason sat on the front porch of Mr. Zeus’ house as night fell.

  Below and in the distance, Lilith Beach glowed ivory beneath the liquid-white light of the crescent moon, and the Milky Way’s majesty filled the night sky. A cool breeze rattled the fronds of the palm trees.

  Jake had always liked the night, the sense of peace, as if tranquility had taken the place of hectic daytime.

  He sensed when Mr. Zeus stepped outside and sourced his lorethasra—a vanilla aroma filtered outside—and formed a braid of Fire that dimmed the lanterns hanging next to the front door. The lights transformed to a rich red, and the night’s darkness more fully invaded the front porch.

  Mr. Z
eus maintained his lorethasra and drew out a thread of rustling Earth and a line of cool, icy Air. He twisted them with a strand of Fire, and the overhead fans ceased their movements.

  “Don’t really need them with the trade wind coming in,” Mr. Zeus said, joining them.

  “Are you two still thinking of going back to Sinskrill?” Jason asked.

  “I promised I would,” William answered.

  “I can’t say I’m thrilled at the notion of either of you going back there,” Mr. Zeus said. “I don’t know if I should allow it.”

  “It’s going to happen,” William said. “One day, Jake and I will be fully trained raha’asras. No one can stop us from leaving then.”

  Jake nodded agreement, although inside he felt far less sure. Sinskrill terrified him, and the notion of returning there left him cold.

  Mr. Zeus grunted. “We could do the same thing to you as we did to Serena and block you from leaving.”

  “No, you can’t,” William said. “You’d have to limit our access to our Spirit. We wouldn’t be able to do our work as raha’asras then, as creators of lorasra.”

  “You wouldn’t get to do your work as raha’asras if you’re dead,” Jason noted in a wry tone.

  “Or if the mahavans recapture you,” said Mr. Zeus.

  William shrugged, his expression one of acceptance, a sentiment Jake didn’t share.

  “You’re bound and determined to carry out this notion?” Mr. Zeus asked.

  William nodded, and Jake followed a beat later. He’d promised to save Travail and Fiona, but he wished he didn’t have to.

  Mr. Zeus sighed. “Fools,” he muttered, “but I suppose I should be proud of your courage and commitment, no matter how poorly reasoned.”

  “Thank you,” William said.

  Mr. Zeus snorted. “It’s not exactly a compliment,” he said. “By the way, what’s Serena’s role in all this?”

  Jake’s eyes widened in surprise. How had the old man known?

  “She’s inquiring about building materials for a boat,” Mr. Zeus explained. “I have to wonder why.”

  “She’s going to teach us to sail,” Jake answered. “We need to know how in order to approach Sinskrill.”

  Mr. Zeus frowned. “I have no objection with Serena teaching you to sail, but she can’t help you in any other way. She stays on Arylyn.”

  “Agreed,” William said. “The last thing we want is her leaving Arylyn.”

  Jason wore a frown. “If you need someone to teach you to sail,” he said, “there are a hundred other people who could do that. And why do you need to build your own boat?”

  Jake had made the same point on many occasions, but for some reason William continued to insist on Serena.

  “I want my own boat,” William explained. “I don’t want to have to borrow someone else’s.”

  “And Serena as your teacher?” Mr. Zeus asked.

  “Serena knows Sinskrill better than anyone,” William said. “She can teach us the best places to arrive unseen, and how to safely approach them.”

  “Can’t she simply tell you what you need to know?” Mr. Zeus asked. “I still don’t understand why you also need her to teach you to sail.”

  William shifted in his seat. Squirmed, really.

  Jake narrowed his eyes in suspicion. William couldn’t be that dumb, could he?

  “Yes?” Mr. Zeus persisted.

  “I feel sorry for her,” William said.

  Jake threw his hands up in disgust. William was that dumb. “I don’t believe this.”

  “Why would you feel sorry for her?” Jason asked on top of Jake’s words.

  “She needs a purpose,” William said. “She’s got no one but Selene, and nothing to do. I’ve seen her walk around the island all alone. Even on Sinskrill, Jake and I had each other to lean on.”

  “Why does she need anyone to lean on?” Jake demanded. “Unlike Sinskrill, this isn’t an island full of psychopaths.”

  “I think she’s hurting, and I’d like to help her,” William said.

  “Didn’t you have a large disagreement with her a few nights back?” Mr. Zeus asked.

  “It wasn’t much of an argument. Just about how she could fit in better,” William answered. “Same as what Jason said to her.”

  “Yeah, but he wasn’t being a dumbass when he talked to her,” Jake said. “You are.”

  Anger reddened William’s face. “Listen—”

  “Enough,” Mr. Zeus interrupted. “If William wants to learn to sail from Serena, he can. If Jake would rather learn from someone else, he can do that, too. I’ll let the two of you work it out.”

  “He’s still a dumbass,” Jake muttered.

  “There’s something else I’d like you to explain,” Mr. Zeus said. “You told me the troll is afraid of large bodies of water. How do you plan on getting him off Sinskrill?”

  Jake shared a brief glance with William. They didn’t have that part figured out yet.

  “Right,” Mr. Zeus said in a wry but unyielding tone. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

  August 1987

  william, Serena, and Mrs. Karllson strode along the quiet streets of Clifftop as the sun peeked above the horizon. This early, Lilith’s terraced streets remained empty with most folk still asleep and the only sound to be heard was River Namaste cascading over the escarpment. As the sunlight strengthened, the lingering shadows faded and the ever-present rainbows grew bolder.

  The world dawned beautiful—William wondered if Arylyn had any ugly mornings—a lovely morning on which to begin their pilgrimages. In a few days, William and Serena would meet the Memories, those mystical remnants of dwarves and elves, races of magical beings who weren’t evil like the necrosed or bound on conquest like the unformed.

  Initially, Serena was to stay with the dwarven Memory while William would spend time with the elven one. Two weeks later they would switch places, and later on Jake would make his own pilgrimage.

  “Is it true that you run every day and carry a log up and down a hill?” Mrs. Karllson asked William. She was to be their guide, and her high-cheeked features—part of her Ethiopian heritage—were lifted in a challenge. “Or do you think yourself unable to keep up with an old woman?” Mrs. Karllson was in her forties, but magi aged slowly, and she could have passed for someone in her twenties.

  William tried not to smirk. Ever since Kohl’s blood had effected him, no one could keep up with him. Young or old, it didn’t matter. He could dust them all. “I can go as fast you want.”

  “Serena?” Mrs. Karllson asked.

  “I can keep up,” Serena answered.

  “Let’s run,” Mrs. Karllson said. She took off, gradually picking up the pace until they jogged along at a good clip.

  William breathed easily, and so did Serena. She ran with slow, steady breaths. He’d heard she did her own share of running.

  They cut through the dew-covered grass of the enrune fields. On the far side, they crossed Lakshman’s Bow, a sturdy bridge made of flagstones forming the yin and yang. It was one of seven spans that arched over River Namaste.

  From there, they reached Sita’s Song, a long road constructed of broad, gray stones, and built wide enough to allow for the passage of large wagons traversing the length of Janaki Valley. Not a blade of grass or a blemish of moss marred the road’s mortar. It was as well-maintained as the sidewalks and streets of the village itself.

  Mrs. Karllson led them up a low rise and relaxed her pace before eventually coming to a halt. Her skin—so dark it seemed to hold blue undertones—held a light sheen of perspiration.

  William stopped beside her.

  From here, the emerald soul of Arylyn—Janaki Valley—extended before them, green and glorious. A fine film of fog pressed low to the ground and shrouded rustling stalks of corn, sheaves of golden wheat, and rows of trellised beans. On the rolling slopes of the surrounding hills grew orchards of oranges, grapefruit, and pomegranates along with rows of banana and coconut trees and small vineyards.<
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  Past the valley, a series of humped hills pressed east into the interior of the island, transitioning toward a set of sheer crags that ended at Mount Madhava. The peak soared twelve thousand feet into the air, rising in a series of rocky ridges. Beneath its base, the dwarves had hewn their homes inside of caves riddling the mountain.

  Mrs. Karllson took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and lifted her face to the sky. “Every time I see this, I am reminded to thank the Lord for offering me salvation.”

  William arched his eyebrows in question at Serena, wondering what Mrs. Karllson was talking about.

  Serena wasn’t looking at him. The valley held her rapt attention. “It’s lovely,” Serena whispered, and her face filled with what might have been longing. “I hope I always see it so.”

  Mrs. Karllson studied Serena for a moment. “If your heart is true, then with prayer and love, you will.”

  The trek through Janaki Valley proved to be the shortest part of their journey, and they pressed ever deeper into the steamy jungle covering much of the island north of Lilith. Trees soared, and their canopy blotted out the sun. The stench of rotting vegetation and the raucous cries of birds and other animals filled the air.

  A couple of times William even heard the bestial roar of a tiger, but it caused him no fear. Animals didn’t bother magi. A simple braid of Spirit and Earth warned them off. It was one even he could create—he had little skill—and he mentally scowled at how much he still had to master in order to free Travail and Fiona.

  Two days and two nights later, they reached their destination, a bare, flat-topped ridge of rugged granite rising like a plinth from the depths of the jungle. Stairs had been cut into the hill.

  “The Elven Tor,” Mrs. Karllson said after they reached the top. “The Memory should arrive shortly.”

  “What’ll it be like?” William asked, staring around the place.

  “You’ll see,” Mrs. Karllson replied.

  A ghostly murmur whispered on the wind, and William started.