The Chronicles of William Wilde Boxset 1

by Davis Ashura

  A flicker of William’s ever-present anger flared to life, extinguishing any remaining fear. He smiled at Kohl, readying his sword. He gestured. “Come on, ugly. You’re boring me.”

  “Your anger won’t save you,” Kohl taunted. “I know it well. I gave it to you last winter.”

  *He’s here.*

  William didn’t know who Aia meant, but a rainbow bridge opened on the far side of the Scout. His heart lifted. Mr. Zeus!

  But the person who stepped across the bridge wasn’t Mr. Zeus. He wasn’t anyone William had ever expected to see again.

  “Landon?”

  William’s brother stood before him, leaner, bearded, and with unkempt clothes and hair, but otherwise, the same except for the vacant expression on his face.

  Time ground to a halt. Even the raindrops hung suspended in the air.

  “Landon?” William asked again.

  His brother continued to stare at him, unseeing, focused on something else. Expressions flitted across his face like a silent argument. The timeless moment passed, and Landon shook his head. “Didn’t expect to see me again, did you?”

  It took William a second to realize Landon wasn’t talking to him. His brother spoke to Kohl.

  “I was sloppy when I tried to kill you before,” Kohl said. “I won’t make that mistake twice.”

  “Pilot Vent,” Landon said. “You remember him, don’t you? He remembers you.”

  Kohl edged back, unexpected fear flashing across his face. “Pilot Vent is dead.”

  “Yes, he is,” Landon agreed, “but not before he helped create me. You helped create me. You were kind enough to bring Pilot back to life, and I wish to thank you for your gift.”

  Landon leaped into the air. He cleared the Scout with ease and landed in front of the necrosed. A whip-swift punch hurled the creature toward shore.

  “We must fight,” Pilot Vent commanded from within the vaults of Landon’s mind. “It is why we are here, why that strange cat called us to this place. It is what is meant to be a holder: to fight evil and defeat it wherever it is found.”

  Landon tried to ignore Pilot, but it would have been easier to disregard a scream directed into his ears.

  “My name is Landon Wilde.”

  “And I am Pilot Vent,” the voice stated.

  “Landon?”

  Landon’s attention shifted to the boy, the one who seemed so familiar. Who was he?

  Landon’s memories, his sense of self was fragmented and unreliable. He remembered little of his past life. Family, friends, happy occurrences—all were gone. He only knew for certain that a year ago Kohl Obsidian, a necrosed, had smeared his blood upon Landon’s forehead, blessing him with an unholy baptism.

  That marking, even now visible as a black streak that lingered like a tattoo, had done something else, something unexpected. Rather than simply set the necrosed’s ruinous lorethasra into Landon’s bones and essence, the blood had brought with it the remnants of Pilot Vent, the holder who had been transformed into Kohl Obsidian.

  He, too, had a mind riddled with lacunae of memories and knowledge, but Pilot remembered enough. He had been the one who had thrown off Kohl’s poisoned lorethasra, allowing both of them to survive.

  “You know what we must do,” Pilot said. “Apart we are but a shadow of a man, but together, perhaps we can make something of this tragedy.”

  They’d spent the past year as two lost souls housed in one body, each one fighting for control. Two souls for whom the past year had been an unending nightmare of muttered arguments, homelessness, and confusion as they both prayed for salvation.

  “Only together, as one being, can we hope to destroy a creature as foul as Kohl Obsidian. Only then can we revenge ourselves upon the author of our shared misery.”

  “Landon,” the boy called again. The boy who appeared so familiar, whose features sparked memories of home and family. The boy who had to be saved no matter the cost.

  “Yes,” Landon agreed to Pilot’s request. The two of them had battled for domination in this one body for long enough.

  “Our name?” Pilot asked.

  “Landon Vent.”

  “A good name.”

  They dropped their defenses against one another and merged into a single being.

  Landon Vent took his first breath before striding into battle—his birthplace, a powerful omen. Though his memories were worthless scraps, his purpose was certain. Clarity filled his mind.

  He smiled as he stared at Kohl Obsidian, mocking him before surging to attack. The shallow water didn’t slow him down, nor did the mist and fog cloud his vision. His footing was firm, and he could see as clearly as if the sun shone brightly.

  He cried out vengeance as he dealt the necrosed a blow that sent the creature staggering.

  William watched spellbound, stunned by what he was seeing.

  Landon was alive! But how? He had died in the car accident, his body burned to ashes. William had never thought to question that fact. There had never been a reason to think otherwise.

  But here he was, battling Kohl Obsidian.

  Landon.

  And yet he wasn’t Landon. Not entirely.

  Amazement lay like a stone in his mouth as William watched Landon launch himself against Kohl Obsidian. A punch, a kick. Each blow connected. The necrosed rocked on his heels, stumbling backward. Blood, foul as bile, trickled from the corner of the creature’s mouth, and Kohl glared rage. The necrosed returned fire, and Landon took a blow that knocked him on his butt.

  William threw off his shock and yelled to Jason. “Get the anchor line open!”

  Jason, who had also been watching the battle, startled a moment before nodding. He seemed to focus inward, but a moment later he wore an anguished expression. “I can’t,” he said. “He’s still blocking me.”

  “Then we kill him,” Serena said. She stepped toward Kohl and Landon, who fought in the shallows, a few yards from shore. Her sword gleamed in the murky light of the Scout’s headlights.

  William closed his eyes. “Lord, keep me safe.” He marched toward the battle.

  Jason had recovered his sword and stood ready as well.

  William charged from the right, while Serena advanced from the left. Jason attacked from the center.

  Kohl shot a glance at the three of them and snarled. He front-flipped over Jason and landed on solid ground. “Come on,” he snarled. “I’ll tear you apart.”

  Landon took up Kohl’s challenge. William only saw it now, but Landon’s fingers ended in weird, glowing, silver claws. They were as long as a grizzly’s, and his toes bore similar claws. From his mouth, large, sabertooth canines protruded past his chin.

  Kohl retreated before Landon’s slashes and kicks, blocking some and evading others. Shallow, furrowed cuts like windrows leaked blood from the necrosed’s abdomen. Landon’s claws were sharp if they could penetrate Kohl’s steel-like hide.

  “What do we do?” Jason asked.

  “Can you distract Kohl?” Serena asked. “It only has to be for an instant. Just long enough for whoever that thing is that’s fighting him—”

  “Landon,” William interrupted. “My brother’s fighting him.”

  Serena did a double-take. “That’s your dead brother?”

  Landon grunted. He’d taken a gut punch, but it didn’t slow him. He stayed in the pocket.

  “Don’t ask me how,” William replied with a shake of his head. “But Serena's right. We need to distract Kohl.” He turned to Jason. “Can you do it?”

  Jason didn’t answer. Instead, his face furrowed in concentration before white-hot lightning arced from his fingers. It blazed toward Kohl Obsidian . . . and was consumed when it struck the creature’s body.

  “Thank you,” Kohl sneered. The cuts on his abdomen healed. “Foolish asrasin. Lorethasra lightning is food for my kind. Now, I will—agh!”

  Landon had sliced open a new series of wounds across Kohl’s chest.

  “We need more like that,” Serena said.

/>   From Jason’s hands came a gout of fire. Again, it struck the necrosed and was extinguished. This time the cuts on the creature’s chest healed.

  “Why isn’t it hurting him this time?” William growled in frustration.

  “He wasn’t sourcing his lorethasra the other times. Now he is,” Jason explained. “I can’t do anything against him.”

  “You don’t have to,” Serena said. “We just have to distract him. Use wind or something.”

  Jason nodded and directed a gust of wind toward Kohl and Landon. Both combatants stumbled, but Kohl recovered first.

  William took the diversion to enter the fray. All fear had ended. Only anger and an immovable certainty that he wouldn’t let his brother fight this monster by himself.

  Jason followed on his heels. Serena, too. They swept toward Kohl. Jason swung high with a sword strike. Serena angled low. The necrosed blocked and evaded both. William went low. His thrust struck the necrosed’s thigh but bounced off. William twisted around for a snap front-kick. Kohl stepped away giving William room for another thrust, this one aimed at the necrosed’s head. He missed.

  But Jason didn’t. For a wonder, his blade penetrated Kohl’s armored skin, a score along the creature’s bicep. The necrosed snarled. His backhand sent Jason tumbling to the ground, unconscious.

  The return swing would have taken William’s head off, but Landon sprang in. He blocked the blow. Kohl shot off a sidekick. It clipped Serena, and sent her reeling. She hit the ground with a groan and didn’t get up. A shove from Landon saved William again, and he stumbled away from the fight.

  *Don’t hold back,* Aia urged William. Wet and bedraggled, she’d swum to shore and leaped purposefully toward the fight.

  “Aia, no!” William shouted. His heart plummeted in fear for the brave but foolish kitten.

  Aia never slowed. She leapt on Kohl’s ankle.

  “Now it is only me and the two of—” Again Kohl yelled in pain.

  Aia’s small teeth shouldn’t have been able to penetrate wet paper, much less Kohl’s tough hide, and yet they had.

  Lightning flashed. In the afterimage stood a massive version of Aia, a giant, deadly predator who could stare Kohl in the eyes. Death made flesh, William thought. When she snarled, even the trees quavered.

  Kohl did as well. He fell back, fear lighting his face.

  The afterimage faded, leaving Aia as a kitten once more. The necrosed kicked at her, but she sprang to William’s side.

  Kohl stepped toward them. Landon put himself in the way. He checked Kohl’s kick, and his own rocked the necrosed’s head back.

  Kohl grinned and wiped a spittle of blood. “Is that all you can do? I’d hoped for a real fight.”

  The necrosed blurred, shifting like a desert mirage until two versions of the creature were revealed. One seemed as solid as the mountains, the other a wispy phantasm. William could see through the ghostly version, and he didn’t know what it meant.

  “Now we’ll see what you’re made of, holder,” Kohl snarled.

  The solid version of the necrosed surged toward Landon. It kicked and punched, each blow faster than the one before. Meanwhile, the spirit held back, but from its fingers came sheets of black lightning.

  Landon cried out as the energy coursed over him.

  William stood frozen with indecision, wanting to help but not knowing how.

  *You have more strength than you know,* Aia said. *Reach for it. Don’t think. React. Trust yourself, and the answer will come to you.*

  Trust yourself? What kind of stupid advice was that? William thought. It sounded like something Master Yoda would say . . . or a fortune cookie.

  Landon cried out again. This time jagged crystals had scored his face, chest, and arms.

  Both Kohls grinned.

  William charged into the fray and took on the spirit version.

  The ghost smiled mockingly and gestured William on.

  Marble-sized stones lifted off the rocky terrain and rocketed toward William. He couldn’t dodge, so he attacked. He lunged and stabbed the ghostly Kohl. Though wispy and insubstantial in appearance, it, too, had skin tough as armor.

  But William’s sword penetrated, opening a shallow gash that bled black light. The ghostly Kohl grimaced, and the volley of stones lost flight and fell to the ground.

  William realized with a start that his sword glowed a dim silver-blue. It whined as it cut the air. He twirled it, and the sword left streaks of blue light in its wake. William took a stance against the ghostly Kohl, confidence flickering to life.

  “You think you can stop me?” the ghostly Kohl asked. “Better men and asrasins than you have sought to do so.”

  “Shut up and fight.”

  The ghostly Kohl snarled. From his arms extruded a pair of swords, one long and the other short. Gangrenous and bile-colored like the necrosed’s blood, they oozed corruption. The ghostly Kohl came at him.

  William evaded a thrust from the short blade and blocked the long sword. William sensed more stones coming. He rolled beneath them, and kept rolling. The ghostly Kohl chased him, stabbing down over and over.

  William swept his sword at the ghostly Kohl’s ankles and regained his feet.

  Black lightning arced at him. It buzzed the air, and instinctively, he blocked it with his sword. With a snapping crash, the lightning dissipated. William’s blade blazed brighter, lit like burning magnesium, painful to look at.

  He briefly gazed at it sidelong in amazement before returning his attention to the battle.

  Icy spears hurtled toward him. William dodged some, but most he melted with a circular sweep of his sword. “Is that the best you got?” he mocked.

  “I’ve got much more, boy,” Kohl answered. “You’ll learn all about it.” The ghostly necrosed held his swords at the ready and advanced. “I’ll make you eat those words while I eat your heart.”

  “Bring it.”

  Ghostly Kohl swept forward. He hammered with an overhand swing and thrust.

  William sidestepped the swing, parried the thrust, and stepped back. En garde, Kohl came on. His longsword snaked forward. William swept it aside. Kohl followed up with the short sword, a disemboweling thrust. William blocked and jumped into the ghostly necrosed’s guard, too close for swords.

  A hard knee to Kohl’s gut elicited a grunt. The necrosed disengaged.

  It gave William the time and distance to reset himself. He offered Kohl a smirk.

  Kohl glared. No words spoken, the necrosed attacked with fury.

  William parried and slipped aside other blows, but Kohl always pushed him back. William circled to keep the longsword at a distance, disengaging when possible, and always searching for an opening. He found none. Kohl kept on him, constantly pressing forward, each sword swing coming harder and faster.

  William’s counters became sloppy. He struggled to maintain his guard.

  The drizzly rain, clouds, and fog hid the sun, but the Scout’s headlights gave the area near the shore an ethereal quality. They could have been fighting in the mists of fairie. The world held quiet except for feet shifting across wet sand, grunts of exertion, and the ringing of steel.

  William moved his head off the center line and Kohl’s short sword swept inches past his head. One-handed, he parried a swing at his chest. He flicked a punch at Kohl’s hand holding the short sword, deflecting it.

  William panted. He couldn’t keep on like this. He could barely keep up with the necrosed’s blistering pace.

  Another sword slashed into view, defending William. Serena. He swung high, she thrust low. Kohl’s longsword blocked William’s angled overhand. His short sword blocked Serena’s thrust as well. She slid along the parry, and her sword sliced the ghostly creature across his thigh.

  Kohl grimaced in pain and shuffled back, out of position. The necrosed glanced from one of them to the other, trying to keep both in view. The cut on his thigh bled bilious light and slowed him. He limped, and an expression of panic passed across his face.

 
; Again, William went high while Serena lunged low. Kohl parried Serena’s sword. He would have parried William’s, but small, calico Aia bit into ghostly Kohl’s left ankle. The necrosed hissed, distracted. William shifted the angle of his attack. Kohl desperately moved to defend and partially deflected William’s blow.

  But not far enough.

  William’s sword gouged a line from eye to jaw. Kohl roared. Serena slipped behind him, and struck him across the backs of his calves. The necrosed fell to one knee. William’s next thrust stabbed through the monster’s thick skull. It punctured through hardened skin and thick bone. Kohl screamed.

  Serena spun on one foot, her sword extended. It arced around, cutting off the necrosed’s scream along with his head. The ghostly Kohl blinked out, and a cry of anguish rose from the flesh one.

  Landon. William spun about, searching for his brother.

  Landon’s glowing claws dripped ichor. Jason stood with him, his sword nicked and dented, but bearing a line of Kohl’s blood along its edge.

  The necrosed gaped at the four of them. Multiple injuries leaked blood, none of them life threatening, but there were so many. Kohl had been savaged.

  How was he still standing?

  William and Serena advanced to Landon’s side.

  Black lightning stabbed forth from Kohl’s fingers, but William’s blade blocked it, protecting his brother.

  “You die tonight,” William said.

  “Your pet holder cannot kill me,” Kohl wheezed around his obvious pain. “His claws can cut but they can’t kill. He is no true holder. He cannot do what is needed. He is pathetic. You’re all pathetic. You’ll break your swords on my flesh, and when you tire I’ll rise up and slay you.” Defiance shone in Kohl’s eyes.

  “Then we’ll take your head and burn it and your body,” Jason vowed.

  Kohl laughed. “That tale was seeded by Sapient himself. Only a holder can kill my kind, and your supposed holder is too weak.”

  “I am weak,” Landon agreed. “I know that. But William isn’t. You touched him with your lorethasra, changing him to make him stronger of body. And we both have your blood. Except for a holder, the only way to kill a necrosed is with its own blood and lorethasra.” Landon smiled grimly. “We have both.”