The Chronicles of William Wilde Boxset 1

by Davis Ashura

  “You feel it, too?” Serena asked, the lie regarding her disquiet slipping readily from her lips.

  “I’m going to be a magus. I’ll have to leave everything I know. My family. Landon. You.” He shifted in his chair, wearing a sad demeanor. “It’s not as easy as it sounds.”

  “It doesn’t sound easy at all,” Serena said. “But after seeing what you’ll be able to do, your destiny, it makes me feel even more like a nobody.” The lie, though it came as easily as always, filled Serena with guilt.

  “In this world or any other, I don’t think you’ll ever be a nobody,” William said.

  “You’re sweet to say that.” Serena answered his kind words with a sincere smile.

  “You want to go get some ice cream? The cafeteria might not have Graeter’s, but it still tastes good.”

  “No,” Serena replied. “I want to study. For real this time.”

  William shrugged and bent his head again to his text.

  Serena stared at her book as well, and this time she made a show of turning the pages. However, concentration continued to elude her as William’s nomasra pulsed, the translucent flashes coming faster and faster.

  Hurry up, she urged. Jason, Lien, or Daniel might show up, which would be an absolute disaster. They’d sense the nomasra’s failure, and wonder why, a question she’d rather not have them ask. Not when she was so close.

  The end came unexpectedly. The blackness of the nomasra faded away with a sharp snap like a cracked stone. It was a sound only Serena heard, and William’s lorethasra became clearly visible. It glowed like white fire, pulsing throughout his body, a more potent version of Jake’s own pale, unprimed one. William’s lorethasra held a rustling green tendril of Earth that smelled like ivy; a line of blue—his Water—that swayed and susurrated like waves. An angry yellow flare of Fire carried a mild sulfurous stink, while Air whispered, a clear thread holding a fresh, glacial scent. All were evenly distributed amongst a thick band of bone-white Spirit with a scent that reminded Serena of a pine forest in spring.

  There was no doubt. He had the lorethasra of a raha’asra.

  William sensed nothing and kept his eyes upon his book. He had no idea his life as he knew it, his hopes and dreams, had all been gutted.

  He glanced at Serena with a questioning smile, one she forced herself to respond in kind even while she wanted to cry.

  “He’s a raha’asra,” Serena confirmed as soon she got home.

  Isha looked up with a pleased smile from the book he was reading. He carefully marked his page and set the volume aside. “Tell me everything,” he commanded, his visage characteristically intense.

  Serena explained what she had done, and what she had observed.

  “And the nomasra?” Isha asked.

  “It resumed its normal state a few minutes later. None of the magi will notice any change to it.”

  Isha smiled wider and steepled his fingers. “Excellent news,” he said. “Sinskrill will be pleased.”

  “You mean my father will be pleased.”

  Isha waved aside her words. “Is there a difference?”

  “No one is greater than Sinskrill itself, but he who gave it life. Those who forget earn my ire,” she said, quoting from Shet’s Counsel, the accumulated wisdom of Sinskrill’s true Lord and Master.

  “Your father forgets nothing. He knows Shet rules our home, and he serves him with all sincerity,” Isha replied. “But understand this. As long as your father has the Lord’s approval, he is Sinskrill.”

  “And for my father’s approval, we have to sell William into slavery?” Serena asked, letting her bitterness show.

  Isha threw his head back and laughed. “Child, we’re all slaves, even your father. Did you not hear what you quoted?”

  “I don’t like being a slave,” Serena said.

  “Who does? But it is the way of life on Sinskrill. You might as well dislike gravity.” Isha snorted. “Was there anything else of note you wish to report?”

  “There was one other oddity.” Serena hesitated, not sure she should even bother mentioning her discovery.

  “Am I to guess or will you tell me?” Isha asked with an expectant arch of his eyebrows.

  “Jake Ridley is a potential. He hasn’t been exposed to a saha’asra yet, but it’s there.”

  “Jake Ridley? The boy who saw Kohl Obsidian?”

  “The very one,” Serena confirmed. “The greater oddity, though, is I never sensed his potential before today.”

  “Never?”

  “Never.”

  “How powerful might he become?”

  “Not very. Average at best.”

  Isha tsked. “A pity. Average we have aplenty on Sinskrill. The extraordinary would have been a useful find, the final piece to bring us glory when we return home.”

  “Glory in someone else’s misery,” Serena said, twisting the knife.

  Isha never noticed. Instead, he stroked his chin in thought. “What’s changed about this Jake Ridley?” he seemed to muse more than ask. “You should have sensed his potential long ago.”

  “So should Jason and the other magi.”

  “Yet none of you did. Or at least they never mentioned it if they did.” Isha’s frown deepened.

  “Why’s this bothering you so much?” Serena asked.

  “Because it doesn’t make any sense. You’re telling me Jake Ridley was a normal person, and now he’s suddenly a potential. An oddity such as this deserves thought.” Isha’s eyes grew distant, and the room fell silent while Serena waited for him to finish his considerations.

  “Has anything unusual happened to Mr. Ridley?” Isha asked, breaking the quiet.

  “Other than his encounter with Kohl Obsidian? No.”

  “Did Kohl touch Jake?”

  “No.”

  “And you’re absolutely certain he’s always been a normal person until now?”

  “Yes,” Serena said, allowing some of her exasperation to show.

  Isha lowered his lids in a gaze of warning.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but you’re questioning my intelligence, and I still don’t know why you find this particular oddity so fascinating.”

  “This oddity is so fascinating because, if what you say is true, a normal person became a potential in a matter of weeks. That doesn’t happen. In fact, it shouldn’t be possible.”

  “And yet it occurred.”

  Isha stiffened, and he inhaled sharply. “Blood.”

  “Blood?” Serena had no idea what Isha meant.

  “Blood can be transformative,” Isha said. “It can turn an asrasin into a necrosed, a witch into an unformed, and a raha’asra’s blood is said to be the most potent of all. History tells it can cure almost any magical malady. And in rare instances, it can change a normal person into a potential.”

  “You think William’s blood somehow got into Jake?” Serena said, not hiding her doubt.

  “Perhaps,” Isha said, “but that’s a mystery for another time.” He focused his raptor-gaze upon Serena. “Do you know what abilities Jake might possess?”

  Serena shook her head. “No. As I said before, he’s average at best, and I didn’t have a chance to study him closely enough.”

  “No matter. Leave him to me. I’ll find out.”

  “And if he’s nothing more than an average potential?”

  “Then we have no use for him. Arylyn can have him.”

  Serena nodded silent agreement, hoping for Jake’s sake that he proved uninteresting. He deserved a life free of mahavans and magi, a chance to live as he wanted to, somewhere outside this eternal war. Her eyes narrowed as she reconsidered Jake’s lorethasra. It reminded her . . . She couldn’t help it. She gasped.

  “What is it?” Isha asked.

  Serena couldn’t quickly enough conceive a lie to hide her observation, and she also knew Isha would immediately see through the fabrication.

  “I didn’t make the connection before,” Serena said, while she silently prayed to whatever deity might b
e listening on Jake’s behalf. “His lorethasra is a pale imitation of William’s.”

  Isha stilled. “You’re certain?”

  “Yes sir,” Serena said, still silently cursing herself. Because of her, two young men would now become slaves to Sinskrill.

  Isha noticed none of her self-loathing. “Two raha’asras?” he breathed, pleased and awed at the same time. “We shall stride to the highest ramparts of Sinskrill when we return. The Servitor’s Chair isn’t too high a reach for what we’ve discovered.”

  “Yes, sir,” Serena agreed. She kept her visage and tone agreeable, but fresh guilt roiled her stomach like a bag of worms.

  “We take them both,” Isha said.

  “Even though Jake’s only average?”

  “No raha’asra is merely average,” Isha said as he rose to his feet. “I will test him myself before I inform Sinskrill. But if Jake Ridley is truly a raha’asra, then we’ll take him, no matter how average he may be.”

  Nausea filled Serena’s stomach. She’d ruined Jake’s life, too.

  “As soon as I verify the truth, I’ll send for a war band. We’ll take William and Jake as soon as they arrive.”

  “I don’t want to see William hurt.”

  “He won’t be,” Isha said. “However, obedience and a desire to fight for his future is a requirement no one can overlook. Remember, nothing in this life is given. It’s taken.”

  WHO TO MISTRUST

  February 1987

  * * *

  Jake metaphorically girded his loins as he prepared to confront William, who sat alone at a cafeteria table. He held a small cup of ice cream and was reading some book, probably a fantasy. Typical.

  All of William’s friends had left for the day—the weekend, actually—even Serena, which was perfect as far as Jake was concerned. He needed privacy for when he confronted William, and he certainly didn’t want any of Wilde’s friends around, especially Jason.

  Jake grimaced in annoyance, and if he was honest with himself, fear inspired most of his irritation. The image of fire blistering off Jason’s hands like a wide-open flamethrower still shook him as much as the memory of that monstrous creature engulfed in those flames.

  Right now, secure in the safety of the cafeteria, the power of those terrifying images receded, and Jake judged Wilde to be cautiously approachable. At least no deadly monsters or fire-throwers lurked nearby.

  To get to this point, Jake had picked a fight with William, something that had landed them both in jug, in detention.

  A persistent niggle of doubt remained in Jake’s mind, though.

  What if William could also throw fire from his hands? Or what if he could mess with a person’s head, make them forget things the way Jake’s friends had forgotten about Winton Woods? He wasn’t sure what he would do then. Jake chewed his lip in worry. Maybe he should forget about confronting William. Tell him it was all a big mistake.

  Jake’s jaw firmed.

  No.

  He wanted answers. He needed them, was desperate for them. He had to understand what he’d seen that dreadful night.

  Three other students shared jug with them, but the others weren’t paying attention to him. Neither was Mr. Callahan, who had watch over them.

  Jake approached William’s table. “Can we talk?” he asked without preamble.

  “You picked a fight with me,” William said, his face tight with anger and suspicion. “Why would I want to talk to you?”

  “It wasn’t a fight. It was an argument,” Jake said, taking a seat opposite William.

  “Whatever. I’m still stuck here after school because of you.” Anger filled William’s voice.

  Jake puffed up, wormy fear fueling feigned anger. He used his most intimidating voice and posture. “If we’d really thrown down, you’d have ended up bleeding, like you did when I decked you during the Oklahoma drill after football season. You remember that, right?”

  William nodded. “I remember. You caught me when I wasn’t ready. But try me now. You’ve got all my attention.”

  Jake mentally cursed. William sounded serious and pissed off, the last thing he wanted. He’d gone to great lengths to get some answers from Wilde, not provoke an actual fight with him.

  “What do you want?” William growled.

  Jake started.

  “It’s written all over your face. You want something. What is it?”

  “Answers,” Jake blurted. He immediately winced. There went his plan of asking probing questions meant to get William talking.

  “About what?”

  “About a night in Winton Woods.”

  William stiffened.

  Rising excitement billowed through Jake. He was on the right track. “About a creature trying to kill us all, and about you, Serena, and Jason fighting it.”

  William pretended to laugh, but he was a terrible liar. His wide-open eyes gave him away.

  “I knew it,” Jake said, and laughed with unexpected relief.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” William huffed.

  “Yes, you do. You know exactly what I’m talking about. I remember that night, everything about it.”

  “Really,” William insisted, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” This time his attempted lie was more believable.

  “Steve Aldo remembers, too,” Jake lied.

  William flushed, and surprise and worry flicked across his features.

  “See? You do know what I’m talking about,” Jake said, smiling in satisfaction.

  William shook his head in negation. “No, I don’t. I was only—”

  “You know. Stop lying,” Jake demanded. He slapped the table in frustration. “Sorry Mr. Callahan,” he said when the teacher looked their way. “We’re trying to talk out our differences.”

  “Then do it more quietly,” Mr. Callahan ordered before turning back to grading papers.

  “Okay. You think you know something,” William said. “Now what?”

  “Steve saw that thing,” Jake began. “Everyone did, and they remembered for a while. But then one day none of them did. The strange thing is, a couple days after that monster attacked us, I met Jason’s kooky grandfather.”

  “He’s not kooky,” William said, a warning note in his voice.

  “Whatever.” Jake shrugged. “But it was the day after I talked to him that no one could remember a damn thing anymore. After I saw what Jason can do, I figure his grandfather can do even more, like make people forget about a battle with some nightmare creature in the middle of Winton Woods.”

  “All right. You remember something. I get it,” William said.

  A fresh surge of relief washed over Jake. “Thank God. I was afraid it had all been a terrible dream.”

  “You were hoping this wasn’t a dream?” William shook his head in disbelief. “Dumbass.”

  “If it was a dream, then it meant I was going crazy.” Jake leaned forward. “What was that thing? Before he forgot, Steve called him the Devilman.”

  “His name was Kohl Obsidian.”

  “Was?”

  “I killed him.” William shifted. “Well, me, Jason, and Landon.”

  Jake frowned in confusion. “Your dead brother?”

  “I thought he was dead, too, but he isn’t. He came back and helped me, and we killed Kohl.”

  Jake stared aghast at William. He said it so matter-of-factly. Killing someone. Like it was nothing. A shiver passed through him. This was the person he’d mocked and jeered for all these years? This was the person he’d bullied? All the while, he’d never known that William Wilde had the heart of killer.

  “What are you?” Jake whispered.

  “Just a regular guy,” William replied.

  “No, you’re not,” Jake said. “You’re something else.”

  William rolled his eyes. “What do you want?”

  “I told you, I want to know the truth. I want to know what’s happening to me. Why do I remember but no one else does?”

  “I’ll tell yo
u what I’m allowed to,” William said. He held up a cautionary hand at Jake’s incipient protest. “And before you start threatening to tell anyone about this, think about whether you want to piss of someone who can throw fire, cause earthquakes, and erase memories.”

  Isha wore a tight-lipped frown when Serena arrived home. “Where is William?” he demanded as soon as she entered the house.

  “Jug. In detention,” Serena answered.

  “How did he end up in jug?” Isha asked.

  “He got into an argument with Jake Ridley.”

  Isha rolled his eyes. “I thought those two had reached a truce.”

  “We all thought so,” Serena said, “but apparently not.”

  “Did they come to blows?”

  “No. Just a heated argument.”

  “A heated argument, no punches, and our two raha’asras end up in jug together,” Isha summarized.

  “Yes to the first two points, but we don’t know what Jake is, at least not yet. What’s wrong?”

  “We do know. I’ve observed Jake. He’s a raha’asra,” Isha said.

  “Oh.” A simple, stupid word to ineffectually express Serena’s regret. Poor Jake. His life as he knew it had ended, and he had no notion of its passing.

  “Whatever has you bothered, you need to control it,” Isha advised. “We return home soon, and the Walkers hear all.”

  Serena blinked at the warning. While she and Isha had a unique bond, one of friendship and family, on Sinskrill such ties and concerns would be considered a weakness. Isha nodded as if he could read her mind.

  Serena dipped her head in acknowledgement. She understood what her mentor needed from her. For some reason, at this moment, she had to suppress her emotions or risk having others take advantage of her. Or worse, hurt her through those she cared about.

  “I think you misunderstand,” Serena said. “I like William and his friends, and I’ve even grown to tolerate Jake, but I’m troubled because I don’t know if William or Jake can survive on Sinskrill. Then what would happen to our reputations?”

  “Better,” Isha said softly. “Is there anything else about Jake troubling you?”

  Serena frowned, trying to understand what was really going on. Danger lurked, and she had an odd sense of foreboding. She needed to be very careful with her next words.