by Davis Ashura
Jake noticed the fire burning low, and he tossed another log onto it. They’d brought the wood with them, since the red, stony hills, shadowed canyons, and broad, empty plains surrounding the saha’asra connected to Sinskrill had no trees of any note. A moaning wind caused Jake to shiver, and he eyed the nearby vehicles with envy.
Daniel and the others had wisely decided to huddle within the old, white bus they’d purchased. They’d correctly reckoned that the interior would be warmer than the world outside. Jake would have joined them, but he didn’t want to talk to anyone. He wanted silence, even if it meant staying out in the cold.
He stood up to stretch and stomped his feet to work sensation back into his toes. As he paced around the fire, he wondered how William’s group was doing. A few days ago they’d received a call that they’d arrived in Sinskrill, and several hours ago that Mr. Zeus and Julius were about to make the attempt on Fiona.
Since then—silence.
Jake wandered around the fire and stared at the rugged countryside, lost in thought. He couldn’t wait to see his family again. Maybe he’d visit some of his old friends. He hadn’t done so the last time he’d visited Cincinnati. Too many memories and explanations.
Jake startled out of his reverie when the satellite phone rang. He scrambled to retrieve it and quickly punched the answer button. “Hello?”
“Jake?” William spoke on the other end of the line.
“Yeah. How’d it go?”
“Not good,” William said. “Something went wrong when Mr. Zeus and Julius tried to get Fiona. Mr. Zeus got captured.”
“What!”
“We’re going through with the rest of the plan. We’ll still link up with Travail, but we’re moving the timeline forward. We need you ready three hours early.”
Questions swirled in Jake’s mind. He settled on what he thought was the most important. “What happened?”
“Bad luck,” William said, “but Rukh says he and Jessira can free Mr. Zeus. He wants us ready to go as soon as it’s done, just like we discussed. When you enter the saha’asra, the mahavans should still come for you. They’ll probably think it’s some kind of attack, and the Servitor will open the anchor line.”
“Why not go with the original timeline?” Jake asked.
“Because once Mr. Zeus is freed, the whole island will be looking for us,” William said. “There’s no way we’ll be able to stay hidden that long, especially if we stay near Travail and the anchor line.”
“Three hours early then,” Jake said. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, like it always did before a big game. Except this time the game was for life and death. “We’ll be ready.”
Jessira and Rukh peered into the heart of the Servitor’s Palace as they huddled at the edge of the bailey.
“Keep your Blend tight,” Jessira whispered. “We still don’t know the full extent of what these unformed can do.”
She knew he didn’t need the warning, but habit forced her to remind him anyway. Jessira always worried for Rukh, worried about his recklessness and his need to save others, no matter the cost to himself. Her husband had a madness in him, something that made him rash, made him disregard his own safety.
Rukh nodded, but his eyes remained focused on the area before them.
Jessira pushed aside a strand of hair that had fallen over her eyes. The wind blew the drizzly rain sideways, and the water streamed down her face, soaking her from the crown of her head to the nape of her neck.
Jessira smiled inside. Despite the gravity of the situation, the damp, chilly weather reminded her of her lost home of Stronghold. So many wonderful memories there.
Her fond thoughts faded. Stronghold was long dead.
“Where is everyone?” Rukh asked. He gestured to the empty bailey.
Jessira shrugged. She had no idea.
Thus far, they’d penetrated the Servitor’s Palace without any real opposition. Only a handful of warriors guarded the main gate. Strange. After Mr. Zeus’ capture, Jessira would have expected the Palace to be a hive of activity, locked up tight enough to keep out a mouse. Instead, she and Rukh had easily evaded the four guards at the main gate, and the bailey itself stood quiet and empty.
But appearances could be deceiving.
Jessira sensed guards upon the alabaster ramparts above, and she reckoned some of their brethren likely patrolled the grounds below. Unfortunately, she couldn’t see or hear them. With the darkness, rain, and fog, visibility had diminished to no more than twenty or thirty feet in all directions. Even sounds were muffled.
Rukh signaled, and Jessira crouched lower. He’d heard something. His senses had always been more acute than hers. Jessira conducted more Jivatma—lorethasra as they called it here—and tightened her Blend. She strained her senses as she listened for whatever Rukh heard.
Moments later, the echo of hobnailed boots striking stone reached her, followed by a murmur of voices. Jessira held her breath. Two warriors strode past at a distance of no more than five feet.
Jessira breathed easier when they failed to slow. The guards pressed on, and their conversation faded.
Rukh signaled when he could no longer hear the guards, but they remained crouched in case more lingered nearby.
While they waited, Jessira peered into the gloom and studied the entrance to the prison. It lay on the far side of the bailey, past the barracks and stables. All appeared quiet and slumbering, but Jessira sensed a watchful wariness, a sense of danger that emanated as surely as madness had once curled off the Sorrow Bringer, the defeated false deity of their world.
Jessira focused harder on the barracks, searching out the truth of what bothered her. A moment later she tsked in frustration. She couldn’t tell if her sense of danger was inspired by her instincts or her nerves.
“Ready?” Rukh asked.
Jessira nodded, and followed in Rukh’s shadow, keeping her Blend Linked to his. They crept along the perimeter of the bailey, careful to make no noise.
Rukh slowed when they reached the barracks. He ducked lower, and they shuffled beneath several open windows. Jessira heard a crackling fire within, but fewer than a handful of snores.
Odd. With the damp weather, the barracks should have been closed up tight. Unless …
Jessira signaled, and Rukh nodded understanding.
Some of the warriors within were awake. If they’d truly been asleep, there would have been more snoring.
Jessira controlled her breathing and her heart rate. Despite the Blends hiding her and Rukh from prying eyes and ears, those inside the barracks might still sense the two of them hunched outside. As a result, she and Rukh made sure to slide past the barracks with a sound softer than a leaf drifting across the ground.
Finally they reached the entrance to the prison, and Rukh halted.
Jessira understood why.
The door stood slightly ajar, and from behind it came the sounds of a hushed conversation.
Rukh glanced at Jessira. She knew what he intended without him having to say it. The bond between them had taken time to restrengthen after their soul-wrenching journey to this world, but eventually it had. As always, they required few words to understand one another’s thoughts.
She and Rukh slowly rose, and as one they quietly drew their swords. The blades made the faintest hiss as they left their scabbards. Jessira touched Rukh’s shoulder, indicating her readiness.
He slammed the door open. A muffled sound echoed from within. Quick as a cobra, Rukh entered. Jessira came in behind him and swiftly shut the door.
They stood in a narrow, dimly lit hallway. The dank odor of mold permeated the place. At the far end, a door stood ajar and several men lay slumped across a table.
Rukh had already sheathed his sword. Two people huddled before him. One was an old woman, the other, Mr. Zeus. His hands clutched his nose. Blood flowed between his fingers and stained his beard red. He glared at the two of them.
“You broke my nose,” Mr. Zeus accused, his voice muffled by his fingers
. “This is Fiona, by the way.”
“I’m sorry,” Rukh said, sounding contrite. “I didn’t know you were behind the door. I can Heal you if you like.”
“Let me,” Jessira said. “You were never good at it.” She scabbarded her sword and took Mr. Zeus’ head in her hands.
“Wait.” Mr. Zeus’ eyes widened in panic.
Jessira didn’t allow him to draw away. She concentrated, and conducted more Jivatma. A surge of energy built within her and she let it out in a pencil-thin stream. It streaked like golden lightning, crackling as it left her hands and washed over and into Mr. Zeus.
He arched onto his tiptoes, and his mouth opened in a silent scream.
Fiona edged away from them. “What are you doing to him?” she asked in a tone filled with fear.
“She healed me,” Mr. Zeus said, sounding amazed. He nudged his nose and broke into a broad grin. “There’s not even a touch of pain. How’d you do that?”
“Another trick from our original home,” Rukh said. “How are you free? Serena told us you would be tortured to death.”
“Serena? How is she?” Fiona broke in.
Jessira smiled at the old woman. “You’ll see her soon enough.”
Fiona seemed to stiffen her spine. “I’ll only believe that when I hold her in my arms.”
Rukh eyed Mr. Zeus, his gaze intense and expectant. “What did they do to you after your capture?”
The old man gave a brief account of what had occurred.
“What about those jailers?” Jessira gestured to the men snoring down the hall. “How long will they sleep?”
“Hours,” Mr. Zeus said. “I used a thick braid when Fiona and I broke out of our cells. They’ll be out until sometime in the afternoon.”
Rukh smiled. “Then it’s a good thing we plan on leaving Sinskrill well before then.”
“We should go,” Jessira suggested.
“Yes,” Rukh agreed. “Follow close,” he instructed Mr. Zeus, “but leave me room to draw my sword.”
“Wait,” Jessira said before Rukh opened the door.
She doused the lanterns in the hall. Only then did Rukh ease open the door. He gestured, indicating the way was clear. Mr. Zeus followed him, next came Fiona, and then Jessira. She quietly shut the door upon exiting the prison.
Jessira hunched low and stayed close behind Fiona. She kept her Blend tight as they skulked along the barracks. A few snores still emanated from within, no different from what she’d heard a few minutes earlier. Otherwise, the bailey remained empty. No hobnailed guards. Nothing but fog and drizzle.
They inched their way toward the main gate. The same four guards stood watch. As they approached, an itch settled in Jessira’s mind. She felt someone’s gaze upon her.
Rukh tilted his head in question, sensing her rising concern.
She shrugged. She couldn’t see whoever it was.
From somewhere overhead, an owl screeched. A flash of flickering, white wings, and the bird could briefly be seen, soaring amidst several clouds. Jessira frowned as she studied the creature. Something about its behavior bothered her.
Her eyes widened.
The owl flew in a circle, directly over their position. Even while it banked, its head remained locked upon where they stood. It could see them. The owl screeched again, louder this time and seemingly in alarm.
An unformed. It had to be. Apparently they had some ability to see through a Blend.
The barracks stirred.
A voice shouted. “Beware! Attackers in the bailey! Close the gate.”
Rukh cursed. “Run!”
They sprinted toward the gate. Horns blared. Lights lit the bailey, banishing all shadows. The owl remained overhead, still screeching. Fiona drifted out of Jessira’s Blend, and one of the gate guards saw her. He shouted, drawing the attention of the others.
Rukh punched the man as he passed, flooring him. Jessira gut-kicked another guard and followed up with a knee to his face. The guard crashed to the ground, unconscious. A third guard desperately blew a horn, eyes darting about, trying to locate the unseen attackers. Rukh struck him a blow to the chin, and he went down in a heap.
Jessira went after the final guard, a woman. She was desperately trying to close the portcullis, but in her panic the chain kept slipping through her fingers. Jessira slammed the guard’s head into the alabaster wall. The woman’s eyes rolled, and she slumped.
“That owl is going to be the death of us,” Jessira murmured to Rukh.
It still screeched overhead.
“Not tonight.” Rukh unlimbered his bow.
A single shot, and the owl cried once before plummeting to the ground and landing like a wet sack.
Jessira pulled Fiona into the protection of her Blend. “Stay closer next time,” she ordered.
Horns continued to blow. Men and women poured out of the barracks. They couldn’t see Jessira and the others, but they knew their general location based upon the commotion.
Arrows whistled past them. Jessira Shielded. She drew Fiona even closer. Several bolts slammed into her Shield. Green webbing sparked and crackled at the point of impact.
“Who are you people?” Fiona demanded.
“People who need to run,” Rukh answered.
Guards from the walls raced down toward their position. Others from the barracks, armed and armored, sprinted toward the gate.
Rukh flung Mr. Zeus over his shoulder. The old man squawked in outrage.
Fiona backed a step from Jessira. “I can keep up.”
Jessira shrugged, and took off after Rukh. Fiona pumped her thin arms as she struggled to keep her promise.
Serena and William trekked a narrow trail north of the Great Way. Right now they had the path to themselves, but that would change when the sky to the east lightened. Wet leaves slapped at them, and puddles soaked their boots. Fog filled the hollows and limited visibility despite their lanterns. It clutched the world in a hush, except for the infrequent tree groaning in the wind, the clatter of branches clacking into one another, or the patter of rain striking the ground.
William grimaced. “I hate this place.”
“What’s wrong?” Serena asked.
“Water down my neck.”
Serena waited for further explanation but William said nothing more. “That’s it?” she asked. She expected him to have long since gotten used to the island’s clammy climate.
“I’ve always hated the weather here,” William replied.
“I like it,” Serena said. She felt an unaccountable need to defend Sinskrill, the island where she’d grown up.
“Why?”
Serena shrugged. Sinskrill wasn’t home, and while she had few fond memories from growing up here, she’d always miss the island’s mist and fog. She didn’t know why, and right now she didn’t care to explore the reasons. “I don’t know. I just do. Now be quiet. We need to push the pace if we want to get to Travail in time.”
“You think Rukh and Jessira have reached the Servitor’s Palace already?” William asked.
“Did you see how fast they moved?”
“I saw,” William said. “How much farther do we have?”
“Maybe another mile on this trail, and then we turn south. Three more and we should reach Travail’s field.”
“About two hours?” William asked.
Serena nodded. “Sounds about right.”
They pressed on, and all the while they remained alert. For all they knew, mahavans might be scouting this area—several miles north of Village White Sun—and unfortunately, Serena and William didn’t have Rukh and Jessira’s trick of disappearing into thin air.
Time slipped by in silence, but when they neared Travail’s home, a faint sound came to Serena. She frowned, unsure what she’d heard.
“Did you hear that?” William asked.
Serena nodded, and sourced her lorethasra. She ignored the sewer stench of Sinskrill’s lorasra and created a braid of Air. Sounds sharpened, and she focused on the location where s
he’d heard the worrisome sound.
Her eyes widened. Oh, no.
Padded paws. A number of them. And the panting of wolves.
“Unformed wolves,” she whispered to William.
“Where?” William spun in a circle, apparently searching for the creatures. Neither his voice nor his features held fear, only ready determination.
“A hundred yards behind us,” Serena said.
William scowled. “We have to run.” He pointed. “Travail’s field is right over that ridge. Maybe he’s there.”
Something crashed through the forest toward them.
“Run!” William shouted.
They flicked their lanterns to greater brightness and raced for safety. William could have outstripped Serena, but he stayed by her side.
Serena sourced her lorethasra more deeply and extracted threads of Fire, Air, Earth, and even Water. They hissed, rippled, and pulsed across her chest, torso, and arms. She sensed William sourcing as well, more powerfully than she could, all his Elements at the ready. He even held a thick cord of Spirit, something she couldn’t create. It twined about his forehead.
Howls filled the woods.
“Four.” Serena answered William’s unspoken question when he glanced her way.
The forest ended, and an open field allowed them to sprint faster. They reached the rise, and their pace slowed as they climbed.
Serena glanced back and wished she hadn’t. A brief break in the clouds allowed moonbeams to pour down. The light showed four unformed wolves, vague, dark shapes charging toward them. They would arrive in seconds.
Serena created a braid of Fire and Air, and lofted it skyward. The world brightened under the light of her weave as the mist burned away for a distance of ten yards.
William drew his bow and sent an arrow into the midst of the unformed. One of them yipped in pain and went down. It quickly rose, though and kept up the pursuit.
Serena readied her sword. She hurled a line of fire into the center of the unformed, and watched dumbfounded as one of the creatures consumed it. She threw a wide fan of air that briefly battered the creatures back. Seconds later they came on again.
