by Davis Ashura
“How’d they learn something modern like that?” William asked, more to distract his mind than from any real interest in knowing the answer.
“There’s a saha’asra at the London Library,” Serena explained. “They copy all sorts of books and music from there.”
The song ended, and Serena thankfully stepped back. “This is for you,” she said, drawing forth a small box from a pocket.
William opened it, and discovered a chain and a locket.
“Mr. Zeus made a copy of the one you gave Selene,” she said.
William cracked open the locket, and a picture of his smiling family greeted him. He smiled in appreciation. “Thank you,” he said. “But I don’t have anything for you.”
“You forgave me,” Serena said. “That’s enough.”
January 1988
serena grunted with effort as she strained to hold a board in place so William could hammer it home.
Over the past few months, they’d been building Blue Sky Dreamer in a sheltered cove near Lilith Beach. A sandbar etched the border between green land and aqua water, and a long pier stretched into the bay. A handful of boats remained tied at the dock while many more could be seen sailing the waters around Arylyn. Fluffy, white clouds drifted like stately castles in the sky.
This afternoon they’d started out with William doing the lifting and Serena doing the hammering, but she’d smashed her thumb one too many times and didn’t want to risk hitting it again.
“Only a few more pieces to go and we’ll have the exterior shaped up,” Serena said. “Then we attach the masts and complete the finish-work inside.” She leaned against the hull, wiped the sweat off her brow, and rolled the soreness out of her neck. She ached all over and needed a breather.
William smiled at her, an expression he now wore more frequently in her presence. The tension in his shoulders whenever she was around, and the veiled distrust in his eyes had faded away. Nowadays, their relationship was almost like it used to be during the simplicity of life as seniors in high school.
“Too hot for your Sinskrill blood?” William teased.
“Like Sinskrill was too cold for yours,” Serena said.
She chided herself the instant the words left her mouth. Why couldn’t she remember to keep her tongue still and not remind William about Sinskrill? It brought back nothing but bad memories for both of them.
William surprised her, though. Rather than respond with anger, he disregarded her reminder and stretched his bare back—he worked shirtless—and groaned. “I hate the thought of going back there.”
“I know. I wish you didn’t have to, either,” Serena said. She paused and shifted in uncertainty, not sure how he’d take the thought she had.
He noticed her hesitation. “What?”
“You don’t have to go back if you don’t want to.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“I figured you’d say that,” Serena said with a wan smile. “Have you heard if I’ll be allowed to go?”
“I doubt it,” William said. “Maybe someday, but not now.”
Serena’s interest sparked. “Did you hear something?”
He grinned. “Only some rumors. Mostly about how everyone’s life will be easier if you’re gone for a few weeks.”
“Very funny.” Serena punched him lightly on his shoulder.
He smiled again before resuming his hammering. “How much longer will it take to finish?” he asked.
“A month, give or take,” she said. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the work has gone faster once you learned to use some of your skills.”
“I want to be done in three weeks.”
“That’s pushing it,” Serena said. “You won’t have time for training with a schedule like that.”
“I’ll figure it out.” William stared at her with the disconcerting intensity she normally associated with Isha. The resemblance between their gazes was startling.
He must have recognized her surprise. “What?”
“For a moment you looked like Isha.”
“How do you mean?”
“The way you were looking at me. The intensity.”
He laughed. “Really? You look at me like that all the time.”
“I do?” Serena hadn’t realized. “I guess Sinskrill has touched us both.”
William grimaced. “Another reason to hate the place.”
Serena smiled faintly. “Then let’s get Blue Sky Dreamer done. I’ll teach you to sail. You’ll go to Sinskrill, steal Fiona and Travail, and come home. Maybe we can forget about Sinskrill then.”
William eyed her in speculation. “Home? Is that how you think of Arylyn?”
Serena tilted her head and considered his question. “It’s the first real home I’ve ever known.”
William fingered the large, open-faced, leather helmet that Ward passed to him and stared at it in confusion. “What do I do with this?”
“Put it on,” Ward said. “It’s called a governor. It restricts how much lorethasra you can source.”
William continued to examine the helmet. The two of them stood in an empty field north of Linchpin Knoll. The sun had burned off most of the morning dew, but some of it still glistened on the grass. Birds and other animals called out from the surrounding forest, and a squirrel darted along the undergrowth. The air carried a moldy scent from fallen leaves decaying on the ground.
“What’s it for?” William asked, gesturing to the governor.
“I told you,” Ward replied. “It’s supposed to restrict your lorethasra. Your control has improved, but it’s not nearly good enough to train without a governor. You still source too heavily, and as powerful as you are, I’m not sure I can block everything you throw at me.” Ward broke into a sardonic grin. “You wouldn’t want to burn your teacher to a crisp, right?”
“We’re really going all out in a fight?” William asked. His heart skipped a beat at the thought.
“That’s the plan.”
Ward slipped a governor onto his head, and William followed suit. He nearly pulled the helmet off when it tightened on its own and created a snug fit.
“Buckle the straps under your chin and snap the large flaps together in front of your neck,” Ward explained.
William did so, and a sense of wrongness pervaded his being. “Something’s wrong,” he said, moving to unbuckle the straps.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Ward replied. “The helmet is doing its job. It’s governing your use of lorethasra by blocking access to some of it. I know it doesn’t feel right, but don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.”
William let go of the governor’s straps and tried to ignore the sense of discomfort. He focused on his breathing.
Meanwhile, Ward paced to a dozen yards away. “Don’t drain the lorasra around us,” he said. “Pretend you can’t, or that the other person has a nomasra. I want this to be a test of your skill against mine. Ready?”
“Ready.” William’s jaw clenched. His focus tightened until he only saw his teacher.
Ward shouted, “Go!”
William sourced his lorethasra and linked all the Elements to lorasra.
Ward hurled a line of fire at him. It sizzled like hamburger on a hot skillet.
William crossed his arms and brought up a prow-shaped shield of Air and Earth. The Fire split to both sides of him. He thrust his hands forward and arrowed a whistling bolt of Air at Ward.
Ward shifted sideways. The arrow missed. Ward wrapped his hands in rustling, green ivy. His fist clenched, and lines of Earth poured from it into the ground.
The ground shifted beneath William’s feet. He stumbled. Grasping fingers of wet earth reached out for him, seeking to lock him in place.
William shoved the dirt away. It took him no more than a second to gain control of the ground, but during that time freezing water rose to his ankles. William gasped at the cold. A line of Fire, barely warm enough to cause a sunburn, touched him.
“You’re dead,” Ward said.
Will
iam warmed the water around his legs and scowled as he stepped out of the now muddy portion of the field. “Well, that sucked.”
“Too much reaction and not enough action,” Ward commented. “There are many things we can do with the Elements, but in battle most of it revolves around simple maneuvers and trickery.”
William gritted his teeth. Losing here was better than losing on Sinskrill. “Again?”
“Sure,” Ward said. “I’ve got all morning. Ready?”
“Ready.”
“Go!”
The ground trembled. William leapt upward, powered by a weave of Air. He wouldn’t be trapped twice by water and dirt. A lasso of water snapped out from Ward. William met it with a line of fire. Steam burst when the cords impacted. William landed. He controlled the ground and shoved down rising water.
A wall of fire blazed at him. William brought up a dirt shield and huddled as he waited for the blazing fire to stop. His plan ended when something punched him in the head.
“You’re dead,” Ward announced.
“What happened?” William asked in frustration. He rubbed the sore spot on his head. Even through the helmet, he’d felt that blow.
“While you stayed immobile behind your wall of dirt, I curled a bolt of Air mixed with Water and ‘killed’ you.”
William frowned. “How do I defend against that when I’m busy blocking the fire?”
“You could have used a burst of Water or Air to split the fire apart. That way, you could see what was coming next. You can’t do that behind a wall of dirt.”
“Jake did that when we were escaping from Sinskrill,” William said. “It worked then.”
“That’s because the mahavans you were fighting were probably toying with you,” Ward said. “I’ve gone against Serena. She’s good, and if the rest of her kind are anything like her …”
“She’s not a mahavan anymore,” William interjected.
“She’s also not a magi,” Ward countered with a scowl.
William blinked, put off by Ward’s obvious antipathy toward Serena. Pity for her rose as William thought back to the times he’d seen people eye Serena askance with curiosity, concern, and outright mistrust in their eyes. She had to have seen it, too. How did she tolerate it?
“Anyway, Serena’s good,” Ward continued, “and if she’s the measure of a mahavan, the ones you fought were toying with you on that pier. They could have defeated you a thousand ways, and they chose not to.”
William sighed, deflated by how much he still had to learn.
Master magic, master the sword, learn to sail, plan an assault … William wondered if he could do it all. And do it well enough to actually save Travail and Fiona. He had his doubts, but he also knew the doubts wouldn’t stop him from trying.
“Again?” Ward asked, piercing his thoughts.
William nodded.
“Ready?” Ward asked.
“Ready.”
“Go!”
The next time William lasted a bit longer, but once more, Ward easily ‘killed’ him.
“You’re dead,” Ward said.
They kept on for the next few hours, but the results remained the same. Toward the end, though, William started lasting longer in the fights than he had at the beginning.
“That’s enough,” Ward said after their last sparring session. He breathed heavily, and sweat beaded on his head. “I need a break.”
William did, too. He lifted his sticky shirt off his chest and fanned himself with it. “How’d I do?” he asked.
“Not bad for your first time,” Ward said. “You need to keep practicing, though. Every day, if you really want to go to Sinskrill.”
Serena leaned against her spade and took a swig of water. The afternoon sun beat down, and she found herself longing for the cold wind that often blew off the northern mountains of Sinskrill. Not the island itself, just some cooler weather.
Ms. Sioned grinned at her. “Don’t tell me an old mare like me can outwork a young filly like you.”
Serena shook her head ruefully. “I’d hate to think what you were like when you were young.”
“I was a ball of fire,” Ms. Sioned said with a chuckle. “Now less talking. Put more backside into your shovel.”
Serena nodded, and bit into the ground with her spade.
She and Ms. Sioned tilled Sile’s vegetable garden, cleaning and readying it for the next planting. From the farmhouse at their backs came the sound of Suzanne, Sile’s wife, singing. Sile himself was out in the fields.
Serena paused again, listening to the lovely sound.
Ms. Sioned noticed. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can have some of Suzanne’s ice cream.”
Serena grinned. “A better reason than any to finish early.” She dug in with her shovel and broke up old roots, softening the soil for the coming planting. “May I ask a question?” she asked Ms. Sioned a few minutes later.
“What’s that, dear?”
“Why are you doing this?” She gestured to the garden around them. “Sile and I can do this on our own, or ask someone to help if we really need it.”
“Because I was the one who taught Sile and his father how to farm,” Ms. Sioned replied.
“Did they have to sweet-talk you into it?” Serena teased.
“No,” Ms. Sioned said, head bent over her spade. “They were born into the teaching. Sile’s father is my son, and Sile is my grandson.”
Serena hadn’t known, and she scrutinized the old raha’asra’s features, searching for the resemblance to Sile. It was hard to see. “He never mentioned the relationship.”
Ms. Sioned chuckled. “He tends to forget simple niceties like that, doesn’t he?”
Serena smiled in fondness. She liked Sile. “Yes, he does. Half the time he can’t even remember my name.”
“How like that boy,” Ms. Sioned said with a rueful shake of her head. “I understand you’re thinking of becoming a farmer yourself.”
Serena nodded.
“It’s a good life, but are you sure it’s for you? You’ve built a boat. Maybe fishing would better suit you.”
“Sailing is in my blood,” Serena said. “Not fishing.”
“And farming?” Ms. Sioned asked.
“My mother taught me to garden,” Serena said. “Farming feels like an extension of that, a way to honor her legacy. I think it’d make her happy.”
“I heard what happened to her.” Ms. Sioned hesitated, and for the first time since Serena had known her, the older woman appeared unsure of herself. “Is it true what they say about her?”
Serena knew what Ms. Sioned was really asking. Were you really forced to watch your mother whipped to death? “It’s true,” Serena said. She focused on the tilling and hoped Ms. Sioned wouldn’t ask any more questions.
“You had a hard childhood,” Ms. Sioned said, her voice soft and sympathetic.
Serena shrugged. “Maybe compared to some.” She didn’t want to talk about that awful day, and for some reason, Ms. Sioned’s sympathy annoyed her.
Their conversation faded for a few minutes before Ms. Sioned resumed it. “I don’t mean to pry, but what are your intentions toward young William Wilde?”
Serena raised her eyebrows, surprised by the question. “I don’t have any intentions,” she said. “He forgave me. That’s all I ever needed.” Which was the truth, but not the entire truth. The entire truth was something she had yet to figure out. Either that or she lacked the courage to face it.
“He once thought of you as more than a friend, did he not?”
Annoyance flickered within Serena’s heart at Ms. Sioned’s probing questions. They sounded accusatory. “He did,” she answered.
Ms. Sioned leaned against her spade. “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, my dear, but I’ve come to care quite deeply for William. I’d not see him hurt again.”
“I won’t hurt him,” Serena promised.
“See that you don’t,” Ms. Sioned said.
The unexpected hardness
in the old woman’s voice was reflected by the iron in her eyes. Both were at distinct odds with her grandmotherly manner. In that moment Serena remembered one of Isha’s teachings. Never earn the wrath of a kind woman.
“Why do you think I would hurt him?” Serena asked.
“Since your arrival, I can’t say that I’ve gotten to know you much,” Ms. Sioned said. “While I don’t think you’d intentionally hurt William again, you do have a history of doing so.”
Serena wanted to roll her eyes. Others acted as if William were some kind of fragile flower and she a person with the oil and flames meant to burn him to ashes. He was much stronger than they gave him credit for, and—every bit as important—she had changed. She only wished someone other than William actually believed it.
“Why do you think you can pass judgment on me?” Serena asked. “I said I wouldn’t hurt William, and I won’t.”
“I ask you these questions because I want William to be happy,” Ms. Sioned said. “I want the same for you, and you’ll only be happy if you’re true to yourself and seek what you really want in life. Flirting with William, dancing with him, isn’t what you need. Neither does he, if he really plans on going back to Sinskrill. Until you know what you want, leave him be. Let him focus on his task, or he will surely fail. You know this.” Ms. Sioned resumed her tilling. “You would also be wise to reflect upon my advice for yourself: learn what you want in life.”
Serena tilled the garden while she considered Ms. Sioned’s words. Some might have thought them intrusive, but despite the earlier iron in her voice and features, the advice had been offered in an unexpectedly warm and generous tone. In addition, it was similar to what Lien had told her a few months back.
What did Serena want for herself?
Ever since Lien had first posed the question, Serena had wondered about it. Thus far, the answers she’d arrived at didn’t entirely satisfy her, but she said them aloud anyway. “I want to save my grandmother and Travail from their enslavement in Sinskrill. I want to see my sister grow up happy and safe. That’s all.”
