by Davis Ashura
Lien didn’t have an answer for him, and Jake glanced at her, Jason, and Daniel through the rearview mirror. “I don’t care if anyone in here doesn’t believe in jinxes,” he said. “I do. For all we know, they might be every bit as real as the magic we use. That’s why I don’t want to hear any doubts about the plan. It will work. That’s what all of us should be saying and thinking.”
Rukh rotated in a slow circle and examined the building in which he and the others found themselves. It looked no different from the last time he’d been here, during the Trial to rescue William and Jake from Sinskrill. Windowpanes remained broken into jagged shards like canines, and cobwebs congregated upon the ceiling. They likely did more to hold up the building than the rotting wood of the rafters, he thought.
A pungent wind blustered through the shattered windows and carried the stink of brine and rotting fish from the nearby Gulf of Danzig. The breeze did nothing to relieve the underlying stench of ruin, rust, and scat permeating the building.
Rats scampered along the edges of the room in which Rukh and the others waited, hiding in the shadows as they darted about in the fashion of the terrified. For good reason. A colony of feral cats now shared the building with them.
Rukh grimaced in disgust. As places of magic went, this saha’asra in Gdansk, Poland—their last stop before the Faroe Islands—was singularly unimpressive. No lovely meadows, golden beaches, or mystical waterfalls to rouse a sense of majesty and magic. This saha’asra contained no more than a single abandoned warehouse overlooking the Gulf of Danzig whose waters shimmered gold—the only visible beauty here—while gulls lined the piers and called out incessantly in a madness of noisy stupidity.
Rukh spun about when he noticed motion at the edge of his vision. A calico cat darted after a rat. The feline reminded him of Aia, and he wondered how she was doing. He hadn’t heard from her in more than a year.
“She’s fine,” Jessira said, knowing what he was thinking through the connection they shared.
It had birthed to life shortly after their first meeting, when he’d almost murdered her on the Hunters Flats.
“Good thing you didn’t kill me,” Jessira added. “I wouldn’t have enjoyed that.”
“Aia’s in Sand,” Rukh said, “but I can’t hear her thoughts. According to what I’ve learned, no magi has visited that village of witches for time immemorial. I’m not sure it’s entirely of this world.”
Jessira quirked a smile. “Earth is such an odd world. Ours was simpler, kinder, and more understandable.”
“Would that our home had remained as we wished,” Rukh mused. “Before the disciples of Shet ravaged the peace.”
“Change comes to all life and to all places.”
“The change wasn’t of our desire, or the desire of our people.”
“No, but the consequences are ours to bear.”
“Yes, they are,” Rukh agreed with a sigh. “And waiting here accomplishes nothing. We have a Trial to complete.” He faced the others. “Are you ready?”
They stood up in a medley of groans. Traveling this many anchor lines in a row hadn’t been easy on them. Serena still had a green tinge to her face.
“Give me a sec,” William said, tightening the straps to his backpack and securing his sword. He checked how easily he could draw it.
Rukh hid a smile. The young man reminded him of Jaresh, his brother. Both had a foolhardy bravery that could put any member of Caste Kumma, the warrior Caste, to shame.
“One more anchor line and we’re there,” Mr. Zeus said with a grimace, as if the thought itself made him ill. “Tórshavn. The Faroe Islands.” The old man took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. “I’m ready.”
Serena’s green tinge had faded, and she flashed a thumbs-up signal.
Rukh nodded. “You have the anchor line?” he asked Jessira.
“I do now,” she replied.
“You could at least act like traveling an anchor line is uncomfortable,” Mr. Zeus complained.
“I could,” Rukh said, “but I doubt it would make any of you feel better.”
Mr. Zeus tilted his head in thought before shrugging. “I guess it wouldn’t.”
Rukh sensed Jessira reach out with her Jivatma, her lorethasra, as they labelled things here. A sword-cut in the air spun about and formed a rainbow-hued doorway to the infinite. It brought a taste of light and glory to the dismal saha’asra.
Rukh unpacked his sword and belted it at his waist. He checked to make sure it slid easily in the scabbard.
“You really think you’ll need that on Tórshavn?” Serena asked.
“Preparation is always prudent,” Rukh said. He strung his bow and slung a sheaf of arrows on his back. “I’ll be back.”
“I should go first,” Mr. Zeus said. “What if there are Faroese about? You don’t yet know how to make a braid to prevent someone from speaking about magic.”
“I don’t have to,” Rukh said. “They’ll never see me.” He reached for his lorethasra and Blended. From the gasps of everyone but Jessira, he knew they couldn’t see him. He let go of the Blend. “I’ll step through and make sure no mahavans are about, then I’ll come back and let you know. After that, Mr. Zeus and Julius will follow. William and Serena will come next and Jessira at the last.”
“When did he become the boss of us?” Julius muttered.
Rukh stopped listening. He focused on the rainbow bridge and conducted more Jivatma. Sounds grew clearer, his sight sharper, smells more easily decipherable. He was ready to move in the eye-blurring motion that was the hallmark of his long-dead Caste.
Rukh Blended again, and stepped onto the rainbow bridge. The sense of falling, of being torn asunder, meant little to him. Rukh had faced far worse pain. The stretching stopped, and with a sudden halt he stepped into an alley on Tórshavn.
He reached out with all his senses for a count of twenty, but no sounds of discovery came to him. He breathed easier and returned to the dank building in Gdansk, Poland, to let the others know the way forward was clear.
Serena threw her head back and cast her arms wide as if to embrace the world. A cloudy ceiling filled the sky from horizon to horizon and hid the noonday sun while a bracing, brisk wind streamed through her hair. She shivered, and imagined the tang of glacier bracing the chill air.
She loved it.
Arylyn was lovely, but something in her heart sometimes longed for cold mists and the indigo waters of the Norwegian Sea around Sinskrill. They had long since passed west of Mykines, Vágar, Streymoy, Eysturoy—islands in the Faroes—and soon they would approach the mahavan island itself. With the knowledge came trepidation, and some of her excitement faded. Imagining what it would be like to step foot again on Sinskrill caused her fear to momentarily spike.
She tried to set aside her worries and made her way to William’s side. The yacht dipped into the trough of a wave, and she automatically flexed her knees, maintaining her balance as the boat rocked and swayed.
William stood with his hands on the ship’s wheel, guiding the yacht they’d rented in Tórshavn. The pride of a teacher shone within Serena as she watched William handle the boat. His eyes drifted to the tell-tales and the sails, and he called out small adjustments for Julius, Rukh, and Jessira to make. However, even if the wind had died off completely, they would have been fine. The yacht had a fully powered engine to keep it going.
“You’re doing a good job of sailing, Captain,” Serena teased.
“Are you saying that because you mean it or because you’re trying to keep yourself distracted?”
“Both.”
William chuckled. “Then I guess I’ll take the compliment.”
“You know, I’m fairly certain this is the same yacht we used the last time we were here and rescuing the two of you and Jake,” Mr. Zeus said, glancing around from where he stood at the gunwale.
“Then let’s hope it’s as lucky for Fiona and Travail as it was for us,” Serena said.
“And let’s hope we’re not unlucky enough to have i
t nearly burn down around our ears like the last time,” Julius said.
“Luck is a fine thing,” Jessira said, as she came up from downbelow, “but faith and love are even finer.”
Serena considered the words. “For what we’re attempting, if I had to choose between faith and love versus luck, I think I’d rather have luck.”
“Are you sure?” Jessira asked, and Serena sensed the other woman’s amusement.
“Love is why we’re here,” Rukh said, “and faith in our friends is the only reason any of us have chosen to make this attempt at saving those you love.”
“Faith and love,” Jessira said. “Place your trust in what you already have, and luck will come to you.”
Serena flicked her gaze from Rukh to Jessira, trying to find a flaw in their reasoning. There had to be one.
“All that’s true, but I’m sticking with luck,” William announced, “as long as it isn’t bad.”
“How much longer to Sinskrill?” Julius asked.
“Three hours,” Serena said. “We’ll head east soon, and skirt the island so we can come upon it from the north. We want to be on the opposite side of Village White Sun. That’s where we’ll find Barrier Bay.”
“You’ll drop us off there,” Rukh said to Julius and Mr. Zeus, “and make your way to White Sun to kidnap Fiona.”
“I remember our part in the plan,” Mr. Zeus said, sounding annoyed. Then again, he was usually the one doing all the reminding. Serena figured he didn’t like being on the receiving end of all these simple prompts.
Rukh nodded acceptance. “Good. Then we’ll proceed with the plan and disembark at night.”
“Still think the unformed can see through a Blend?” William asked.
“We have to assume they can,” Rukh answered.
“The Blend is not a perfect camouflage,” Jessira answered. “Emotions leak out of it, as do loud noises and smells. I don’t know how keen the senses of these unformed are, but they might see through it.”
“Their senses are keen,” Mr. Zeus said. “Unformed are hunters. They can feel, or maybe even smell, fear.”
“Then the Blend will hide us from the sight of most, but we’ll have to assume it can be penetrated,” Rukh said.
“Imperfect is better than nothing,” Serena said. She refused to be daunted by the steep odds they faced. If they let their worries overwhelm them, why had they come at all? Better to maintain hope than surrender to doubt and fear.
They dropped anchor a mile off the north shore of Barrier Bay. The yacht halted in full dark beneath a dreary drizzle. The thinnest sliver of a crescent moon made a brief appearance before the ever-present clouds of Sinskrill swallowed it. Waves lapped against the side of the yacht, and everyone worked in silence. They used weak, red flashlights as they prepared the boat meant to carry William, Serena, Rukh, and Jessira to Sinskrill.
William shivered in his parka. He’d grown used to Arylyn’s warmth, and unlike Serena and Jessira, he didn’t miss the cold at all. In fact, he despised it, especially the frigid wind whipping the rain sideways and soaking him. It made it impossible to stay dry.
He grimaced in disgust. He hated this island, not only because of everything that had happened to him here, but also because of the very nature of the place. The endless, dull clouds. The perpetually damp weather. The unremitting, frigid rain. Utterly depressing, with tonight a perfect example of the island’s lack of charm.
“Don’t let your satellite phone get wet,” Mr. Zeus warned William. “Once we’ve accomplished our part of the plan, we’ll let you and the others in Australia know. Then it’ll be up to you and luck.” He quirked a smile at Rukh and Jessira. “Or faith and love.”
“You’re learning,” Jessira said in approval.
“Wait for us over the horizon in case we’re unable to extricate the troll and Fiona via the anchor line,” Rukh told Mr. Zeus.
“I remember,” Mr. Zeus said. “Now get going. Hopefully in a few days, we’ll all be able to share a few laughs and a strong drink on Arylyn.”
Rukh and Jessira boarded the rowboat, and William and Serena followed. A winch lowered them to the dark waters. As they descended, William patted his sword for what felt like the millionth time, wondering if he could actually bring himself to kill someone. He’d have to, or all of this might be for naught.
The rowboat touched the water, and Jessira cast off the ropes attaching them to the yacht. She and Rukh took the oars.
“We’ll do that,” Serena said. “We need you two rested and ready in case there’s fighting to be done.”
Jessira silently moved aside for Serena to take a seat next to a set of oars. Rukh did the same for William.
“Don’t tax yourself,” Jessira said. “We need you rested as well.”
William nodded before sourcing his lorethasra and took a moment to brace himself. For the first time in months, he would link to the awful miasma of Sinskrill’s lorasra. One last deep breath, and he took the plunge.
His gorge rose. “It’s like drinking from a sewer,” he said, trying to control his stomach’s desire to heave.
Serena swallowed heavily, and her face became pale. “You get used to it.”
“I’d rather not get used to it,” Rukh said. He appeared sickly as well.
William’s nausea eventually settled, and he nodded his readiness to Serena. They drifted away from the yacht, and William gazed back at it. In the dark, the boat’s deep-blue hull proved difficult to see. One last glimpse and it was lost to sight. William shivered again, an action unrelated to the wind or the cold.
They were really, truly going back to Sinskrill.
He and Serena rowed steadily toward the island. They both wove simple braids of Water and Air to shorten the journey, and they swiftly cut past massive boulders littering the waters of Barrier Bay.
Minutes later, the unforgiving cliffs of Sinskrill’s northern reaches loomed closer. They towered in dark, ominous relief against the gloom of the night. Lightning flashed, and William caught a glimpse of their destination, a shingle beach. Detritus littered the shore, and shadows oozed inky menace. Thunder rolled across the sky.
William shook his head and reined in his wild imaginings. He made himself think about what they had to accomplish. First, they had to reach the island unnoticed. Next, they had to hide and wait for word from Mr. Zeus and Julius. Then they’d meet with Travail and Fiona and make final plans to contact the group in Australia. And finally, if faith, love, and luck saw them through, they’d all escape through Sinskrill’s anchor line.
The first part, though—arriving undetected—was the most important.
“Have you done the thing?” William asked Rukh, releasing an oar and making a vague gesture with his hand.
“I’ve formed a Blend,” Jessira answered, “but with the clouds and rain, I doubt any unformed can see us even without one.”
“Is your Blend—” Serena grunted on the stroke of an oar, “–as good as Rukh’s?”
“Better,” Jessira answered. “I’m the one who taught him.”
“Brand Wall taught me,” Rukh corrected.
“I improved on his teaching.”
Minutes later, the rowboat scraped against stone when it reached the shallows before the beach. William winced at the sound. The rowboat drifted backward, but Rukh clambered out and, one-handed, dragged them the rest of the way ashore.
William gawked. Even with his necrosed-enhanced strength, he couldn’t have done something like that.
Rukh sourced his lorethasra, and the smell of iron rose on the air. He deftly twisted a braid of Spirit, Air, Fire, and Water.
The complexity of the weave took William’s breath away. He had no idea what Rukh’s weave did, but he figured it had to be something awesome. William sent up a prayer, thankful that Rukh and Jessira were on their side.
fiona’s eyes snapped wide when she heard the door to her cottage creak open. She immediately sourced her lorethasra, ready to light into whoever sought to sneak into her
home.
Decades of life on Sinskrill had taught her to be wary. While overt murder was unheard of on the island—the Servitor would never allow such wastage—it didn’t mean that violence of some other kind didn’t occur. It did, and most times the bruises were never seen. In addition, while Fiona’s age and stature allowed her to fear little from other mahavans, anyone stealing into her home at this late hour couldn’t have good intentions.
“Fiona,” a man whispered, someone she didn’t recognize. “My name is Odysseus, known as Zeus by some. Serena should have told you about me.”
Fiona’s thoughts and fears stilled. She could barely speak.
Those dreams, meant to be shared only by family or those who were close to one another … She remembered every image received, every impression, but fear forced her to suffocate her hope for freedom. Hope was dangerous on Sinskrill. It led to folly and death. In this one instance, however, could it lead to freedom?
Flashes of memory raced through her mind. Years of life on Sinskrill. Stolen decades. Children loved, killed, and buried. Love never expressed, and love destroyed. Remorse and sorrow twisted within her with burgeoning hope for the future providing potential meaning to her immeasurable loss.
However, before she could accept hope’s offer, Fiona required a final proof. “Show yourself.”
A hooded lantern glowed with a dim, red light and made visible an old man, white-haired, white-bearded, and with a face full of wrinkles. Behind him stood a young man, dark-skinned and with dark, braided hair. He was obviously terrified, a demonstration of his good sense.
“This is Julius,” Zeus said. He flicked off the lantern.
Wise. Less chance of anyone seeing his light.
Zeus stepped closer. “Thank you for placing the blue flowers outside your front door.”
“What happens now?” Fiona asked in a whisper.
She saw a flash of teeth as the old man smiled. “Now we rescue you,” he said. “We have to tie you up and put a rag over your mouth, but they’ll be loose so you can easily escape.”
