by Davis Ashura
“I understand that,” Mr. Zeus snapped, “but until you learn to braid, you’re not going anywhere near Sinskrill. I don’t care if Seminal and Shet are real. You’re not going back until you can fight.”
William wanted to argue, but he realized Mr. Zeus was right. If he wanted to save Travail and Fiona, he had to do more than learn to sail or master the sword. He had to master his magic. He bit down on his frustration. He’d do whatever it took.
The morning after William’s return from Australia, Serena picked Selene up from the friend’s house where she’d spent the night. Before heading home, they stopped by the farmer’s market at the Village Green and picked up some vegetables. Serena chatted with a number of villagers, and felt surprised at how easily such interactions came to her these days. None of her emotions were feigned.
Selene, though, responded to Serena’s attempts at conversation with nothing more than single-word answers. At first Serena didn’t think much of it. She figured Selene was simply tired, but later on, as they descended the Main Stairs of Cliff Spirit, Serena noticed it wasn’t fatigue dulling Selene’s normally expressive features. It was the flat affect of a drone.
Something had happened, and Serena’s heart sank. “What’s wrong,” she asked. “And don’t say ‘nothing.’”
Selene didn’t answer at first, but her fists slowly clenched. “Emma Lake made fun of my accent,” she finally said.
Serena frowned. “I thought Emma was one of your best friends.”
Selene stared at the ground, and her countenance became despondent. “I thought so too, but she still made fun of me.”
“What did she say?”
“She asked me why I speak with such a funny accent.”
Serena’s frown eased. Whatever had happened last night didn’t sound so bad after all. She tilted Selene’s face upward and offered her little sister a smile of understanding. “You don’t want to be different from the other girls?”
Selene nodded, her face once again empty of emotion.
“Are you certain Emma was making fun of you?”
“She asked why I sounded funny when I talked.”
“When she asked, was it an inquiry or mockery?”
A flash of irritation passed across Selene’s face. “Does it matter?”
“It matters,” Serena said. “One is curiosity, the other is cruel. What did she say? Tell me exactly.”
Selene’s head tilted to the side. “She asked if I would ever lose my accent. Akka said I shouldn’t because she wouldn’t recognize me anymore, but Emma said it made me sound different.”
“Think,” Serena said. “Are you sure that’s the word she used? Different?”
Selene’s brow furrowed. “Unique,” she answered after a moment of thought. “She said my accent made me sound unique.”
“Then I ask you again, was she making an inquiry or mocking you?”
Selene scowled. “It’s easy for you to say. You don’t care if anyone likes you or if you’re different.”
Serena bit back an angry retort. Of course she didn’t want to be disliked or live a life alone. Who would? It would only lead to sorrow and bitterness.
“No one wants to be different,” Serena said after a moment of silence, “and yet we all are. The key is accepting your differences and finding those who appreciate them. For instance, when I was a bishan I had to master English as it’s spoken in America, and yet all along I knew I was of Sinskrill.”
“I’m not a bishan.”
“No, but in some ways you have to be ambitious like one.”
Selene gazed at her with curiosity.
“Arylyn is a far gentler place than Sinskrill, but like all places, you have to work to fit in. Adapt to the culture. Their culture doesn’t adapt to you, and you shouldn’t expect it to.” Her advice could have been directly from Isha’s mouth.
“Why not?”
“Because we came here, which means the onus is on us to understand the people of Arylyn, not the other way around. Imagine if there were fifty of us from all parts of the world.”
“There are fifty like us from all parts of the world,” Selene interjected. “Lien is from China. Jean-Paul is French. Thu is Vietnamese.”
“And if the native-born transformed their culture to adapt to each and every one of us, what would be the result?”
“Chaos,” Selene declared after a moment of thought.
“So adapt and accept your differences, and find those who appreciate them,” Serena advised. “But don’t search for the insult when none is intended.”
Selene’s face grew pensive. “Emma wasn’t being mean?”
Serena shook her head. “It’s as you said. Emma was simply noting your unique accent.”
“The other day she did say she liked the way I speak,” Selene mused.
Serena smiled at her sister. “Then you have your answer.”
Selene’s face brightened.
“Feel better?”
Selene nodded, and an instant later her face brightened further. “There’s William and Jake.”
Serena saw them crossing Chimera Seed, a blocky bridge serving as part of the web of connections linking Lilith’s Cliffs.
“I’m glad they’re not mad at you anymore,” Selene added.
“They still are,” Serena said.
“They are?”
“William has forgiven me, but that isn’t the same as friendship.”
“What did he have to forgive you for?”
Serena mentally sighed. She never wanted to tell Selene the truth about what she’d done to William and Jake, but perhaps it was time to face her fear. “For forcing them to go with me to Sinskrill.”
Selene’s eyes bulged. “You forced them to go? How? Why?”
“Because I love you,” Serena said with a sad smile. “It’s a long story, but I think it’s time you heard it.”
A few mornings after the near-catastrophe in Australia, William sat with Ms. Sioned in the enclosed garden behind her house.
Azaleas in bloom and low-lying shrubs edged a series of koi ponds, fed by a dribble of water down the cliff that formed the rear of her yard. The smell of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies wafted out of the kitchen and masked the scent of an old person’s home.
Of course, Ms. Sioned didn’t act like an old person. She retained a youthful energy that belied her wrinkles, and her smile dropped decades from her face. In the few weeks since they’d met, she had already become one of William’s favorite people, reminding him of what a grandmother should be like: openhearted, warm, and with a fresh batch of cookies available at all times.
He wondered if he should leave any cookies for Jake, who would come by in the afternoon.
“Pay attention,” Ms. Sioned chided, drawing William’s wandering notice back. She sat before him with her legs crossed. “It’s like this,” she said. “I’ll go slower.” She sourced her lorethasra, and split it into the five Elements. She formed them into a glowing, white ball before wrapping it all in a blanket of Spirit.
“The forging,” William said.
“The easy part,” Ms. Sioned said. “Now comes the tempering.” She heated the braid with Fire, and a sulfur stink wafted. Fiery lines crackled and wrapped around her chest and down her forearms. Fingers of flame extended into the bundle, setting it alight.
So far, her creation of new lorasra was no different from Fiona’s back on Sinskrill.
“Next, the quenching,” Ms. Sioned said.
Threads of rustling, ivy Earth and susurrating Water wrapped around her arms. A hissing sound and the dry smell of ice arose when they contacted the now-golden globe she held in her hands.
She let the ball of fresh lorasra disperse into the ground and smiled at William. “Your turn.”
William shook his head. “I can’t do any of that. I can’t braid the individual Elements, much less forge, temper, or quench them.”
“Then focus on less than what I did. Try to hold one Element at a time rather than all of
them.”
“How does that help?”
Ms. Sioned tapped her chin, her sign of thinking. “The practice of our art is like juggling,” she said. “Some of us can immediately start by juggling two or three or even four balls, but others need to begin more slowly. They need to start with one.”
William shrugged, unsure how holding a single Element—something he’d long ago mastered—would help. If anything, it felt like going backward. Nevertheless, he did as Ms. Sioned asked. He sourced his Spirit, and from it, he unspooled a line of Fire.
“Now braid it to lorasra,” Ms. Sioned instructed.
William reached out. His thread of Fire trembled, but he quickly steadied it. He reached out again and wove a pale, yellow braid of Fire. It curled down his arms, and the smell of sulfur momentarily flared.
“Good,” Ms. Sioned said with a nod. “Now tighten the braid, make the link stronger.”
William concentrated. He bound the threads more tightly together, until the braid glowed with the brilliance of a hot forge. The smell of sulfur grew stronger.
“Now loosen it.”
William sweated. He’d never practiced very much at this before, but he slowly relaxed the braid until it reverted to its prior paler color.
“It’s harder than you thought it would be, isn’t it?” Ms. Sioned said, cracking a grin.
“A lot harder,” William said, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He felt like he’d run up the Main Stairs.
“It’s time to add a second Element,” Ms. Sioned said. “Bring up Earth.”
William did as she ordered. A rustling, ivy-colored thread of Earth glowed and unspooled in his hands. He reached again to lorasra and tried to form a second braid. His weave of Fire trembled, and he worked to stabilize it.
“Let go of Earth,” Ms. Sioned said, her voice calm and soothing.
William did so. He focused on his thread of Fire and brought it under control. More sweat beaded on his brow. He’d taken a few more trips up and down the Main Stairs.
“Try again,” Ms. Sioned said. “This time, don’t bother if your braid of Fire is maintained. Form the one of Earth.”
“Yes, ma’am.” William took a deep breath. He hardened the braid of Fire before trying again to form one of Earth. Slowly it took shape, shuddering for a moment before coming together in his hands. The green braid of Earth, pale like a new shoot of grass, rustled and smelled of ivy.
William laughed. He’d never consciously been able to hold two threads at the same time.
Ms. Sioned clapped her hands in apparent delight. “Excellent!” she said with a grin. “Tighten the braid of Earth.”
William kept his eye on Fire, and did as instructed. While the braid of Earth quivered, he managed to strengthen it until it darkened to the color of old pine needles.
“Again,” Ms. Sioned said. “Loosen the braid of Earth.”
“Yes, ma’am,” William repeated. He strained to carry out her instructions. Sweat dripped down his forehead and the back of his neck. Slowly, though, he managed what Ms. Sioned asked. He exhaled heavily when he finished.
By now his head throbbed with the beginnings of a headache, and a frown had left his brow feeling as deeply furrowed as a farmer’s windrows. Sweat stained his underarms, and he panted with fatigue.
“Enough,” Ms. Sioned said with a gentle smile. “Let the braids go.”
“Thank you,” William said, groaning with relief as he released the threads.
He instantly realized his mistake, and his eyes widened.
Too late.
His groan of relief became a moan of pain. A stinging pain stabbed at his forearms. They were as bright as a boiled lobster. A vice seemed to grip his head. William’s eyes ached, burning like they might explode. His ears rang. Blood trickled from his nose, and William fell forward, clutching his head.
Fear filled him.
A hand—Ms. Sioned’s—settled on the back of his head, and a cooling mist seemed to expand from that area of contact. It soothed his throbbing eyes. His vision slowly cleared. His ears ceased ringing. The pressure on his head eased. The burn on his forearms grew less angry.
William slowly sat up. “Thank you,” he said, shuddering with relief.
“You let the braids go in an uncontrolled fashion,” Ms. Sioned said, her voice stern in admonishment. “Doing so is dangerous. You know this.”
“Yes, ma’am,” William said. He took in her words and shuddered in delayed reaction. If Ms. Sioned hadn’t been here, he could have seriously injured himself, maybe even died. Just last week, Silas Green, a glassmaker, had burned his shop to the ground when he’d been careless with his braids. Silas had died three days later from his burns.
“Are you well?” Ms. Sioned asked, her earlier reprimand replaced by concern.
“I’ll be fine,” William said, the pain easing further as the healing braid continued its work. He sighed as he levered himself onto his knees.
“I think that’s enough for today,” Ms. Sioned said. “Take the next few days off as well.”
William merely nodded.
“Also, I think you should meet with Ward Silver,” Ms. Sioned said. “He’s skilled in the use of Air, Fire, and Earth and can perhaps teach you how to use them more effectively than I can.” She smiled again. “And if you still have an appetite, you can still have some cookies.”
October 1987
william stood outside a cottage that belonged in the Shire. Part of him wondered if any orcs were nearby. Mist billowed from where one of River Namaste’s innumerable falls impacted the ground behind the house, and the water left a film on William’s skin, soothing the burns on his forearms that had yet to fully heal. Stacked stones, wreathed in ivy and moss, formed the walls of the home, and smoke lifted from its solitary chimney.
The house belonged to Ward Silver, the magus Ms. Sioned thought might be able to help William master Air, Fire, and Earth. Unfortunately, rumor also held that the man could be a pain in the ass, at least according to Jason. Of course, Jason also admitted that Ward was one of the best instructors on the island.
William knocked on the russet front door, and seconds later a man in his early twenties answered. He was obviously a native of Arylyn, given his dark features and coloring, and his mouth split into a ready grin. “Glad to meet you, William. I’m Ward.”
William shook hands with Ward, surprised by his friendliness. “Thank you, Mr. Silver,” he replied.
“Mr. Silver is my father. Call me Ward.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ward gave a wry quirk. “And I’m no one’s ‘sir.’ I’m too young and you’re too old to call me that. But if you insist on giving me a title, I prefer the Great Lord of the Darkest Darkness.”
Ward chuckled at his own joke, and William laughed with him. He found himself warming to his new instructor. Ward was nothing like how Jason had described him. Nor was he like what Ms. Sioned had said, formal and stuffy.
“Come on in,” Ward said, “and let’s figure out what your glitch is. Isn’t that a term in the Far Beyond? Glitch? Doesn’t it mean ‘What’s your problem?’”
“As long as that’s all I’ve got,” William said. “Glitches can be fixed.”
Ward led him inside, and they passed through a room that served as both a living room and study, and into a small kitchen with a long, oak table. French doors led outside to the back yard where the waterfall tumbled down in the near distance.
“You don’t mind getting a little wet, do you?” Ward asked.
“I don’t mind,” William said, taking a moment to peer at the area out back.
The cascade fell down a series of stony stairs before crashing onto a field of boulders. From there, the waters formed a stream that gurgled its way to the front yard and tumbled over the far side of the cliff. A wafting mist filled the air, but an awning kept off most of the water. Hedgerows ran down both sides of the yard, while a riot of flowers in bloom filled scattered planters. A small, wooden workshop with window-paneled d
oors filled out the space, and inside it William spied a forge, an anvil, and a variety of hammers and tongs.
“I like to forge,” Ward said, apparently seeing William’s notice.
“So does Mr. Zeus,” William replied.
“He’s the one who taught me,” Ward said. “I’m better than him at making flowers and pottery, but he’s still the best damn bladesmith on the island.”
“I’d like to learn that,” William said wistfully.
“What? Bladesmithing?”
“Yeah,” William said, “but only after I figure out what my glitch is.”
“Ha.” Ward slapped him on the shoulder. “Have a seat, and let’s figure it out.” He gestured to a table and chairs beneath the awning.
William took a seat. “Ms. Sioned always has me sit cross-legged on a mat.”
“Is that more comfortable?”
“Definitely not.”
“Then don’t do it,” Ward said. “Ms. Sioned is a right proper old lady, but ‘old’ is the key. She’s set in her ways. Go with what works. That’s my motto.”
William smiled. “I like it.”
“Now, source your Spirit, my friend, and let’s see what you can do.”
William sourced his lorethasra.
Ward whistled. “You’ve got yourself one powerful, strong lorethasra.”
William wanted to scowl. “A powerful lorethasra doesn’t do me much good if I can’t braid it the way I need to.”
“Show me,” Ward requested. “Let’s see what you can do with Air and Earth.”
William split his lorethasra and drew out the required Elements.
Ward clucked. “Rather clumsy there.”
William frowned. He’d always thought he could separate his Elements well.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Ward said in a placating tone. “You’re fast, but what you need is both speed and control. It’s why you’re here. Now, bring up Fire.”
William strengthened his threads of Air and Earth before attempting Fire.
“Link them to their attendant Elements.”
William took a deep breath and readied himself. He worked with Air first. It poured in pulses around his chest and smelled of winter. Next he created a slender, green braid of Earth that curled around one forearm. Fire came last.
