by Davis Ashura
Jake groaned.
“A troll,” Mr. Zeus said, returning to the topic of Travail’s role in their escape. “You gave me an image of him in a dream but I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Everyone’s always believed trolls were extinct.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I suppose your friend is the last one.”
“He’s not the last,” Serena said, speaking up for the first time. Until then she’d sat alone in the bow, staring ahead and saying nothing. Selene had fallen asleep in her arms. “There are more. At least, there are on Seminal.”
“Seminal is a myth,” Mr. Zeus scoffed.
“It’s real,” Serena replied. “I saw it.” She explained about Shet’s Spear, how the runes on it had glowed, and why their escape from Sinskrill had proven far more difficult than anticipated. “Isha—Adam Paradiso, the man you thought was my father—said the Servitor knew Selene and I had gone to Seminal, that we’d spoken to Shet.”
“Or maybe you’re lying again,” Jason said, eyeing her with antipathy. “Like you lied about who you were for all those months.”
Serena shrugged. “You’ll all know the truth in five years,” she said. “That’s when the anchor line between Seminal and Sinskrill opens again. That’s when Lord Shet returns, with no Shokan the Befouler, the Lord of the Sword, to stop him.”
Rukh stepped forward, and once again William was struck by the way he moved. Deadly and graceful. He flowed across the moving deck like water. Jessira, too.
Who were they, really? They couldn’t just be freshmen. They were something more. Something dangerous. William hadn’t decided whether to trust them.
“This Lord Shet, describe him,” Rukh told Serena.
She flicked an assessing gaze at him, and William could imagine her thoughts. She, too, had noticed the changes in Rukh and Jessira. “Shet is a titan,” she said. “He’s a god. He’s taller than a troll and has hair so dark it seems blue. He only has one eye, though, black and pitiless. The right side of his face is burned and ruined.”
“Like Two-Face,” Daniel said.
“Two-Face is burned on the left side,” Jason corrected.
“Stop being pedantic,” Daniel said. “You know what I meant.”
William smiled. How typical.
“Burned on the right side,” Rukh repeated. His brow creased as he flicked a questioning glance to Jessira, who shrugged in response.
“Why? Do you know something about him?” Serena asked. Her question mirrored William’s thoughts.
“No.” Rukh shook his head before returning to Jessira’s side.
“You think the mythical Lord Shet will return to our world in five years?” Mr. Zeus asked.
“Don’t tell me you actually believe her.” Jason sounded betrayed. “She’s a liar. She’s the entire reason for William and Jake’s suffering.”
“We were tortured,” William said to Jason. “Don’t bother sugarcoating it. We lived through it, and we won’t ever call it anything else.”
“Then why aren’t we tossing her off the boat?” Jason demanded.
“By ‘her’ you really mean ‘that bitch’,” Serena said.
“If the name fits,” Jason countered.
“Let it go,” Jake said. “She wanted to save her sister, and we never would have escaped without her help. All she wants is for Selene to be happy.”
“And that makes what she did okay?” Jason demanded.
“It doesn’t make it okay, but we’ve taken a shine to Selene,” William said, pointing to the sleeping child.
Daniel snorted. “You thinking of adopting her?”
“She already has a mother,” Serena said, drawing the child closer to her. “Me.”
“You?” Jason sneered. “Liars who get their friends tortured won’t make mothers.”
“I’ve been all she’s had since our mother died,” Serena said. “I raised her. I’m the one who tried to mold her into someone good, like our mother.”
“Enough,” Mr. Zeus said. “It’s done.” He glowered at Serena. “But you’ll never leave Arylyn.” He made the vow sound like a threat.
“What if she dreams the location of Arylyn to her father?” Jason demanded.
“We won’t let her,” Mr. Zeus said.
Serena paled. “You’re going to strip me?”
Mr. Zeus’ face creased in confusion. “Make you take your clothes off? What kind of perverts do you take us for?”
“Stripping is when they burn out someone’s capacity to source their lorethasra,” William explained. “It’s why they have so many drones on Sinskrill to do all the menial labor.”
“You think that’s what we’re going to do to you?” Mr. Zeus asked Serena.
She nodded.
“Disgusting,” Mr. Zeus said with a shake of his head.
“Then what do you intend?” Serena asked.
Mr. Zeus’ lorethasra flared, and the smell of vanilla drifted on the breeze. “It’s already done,” he told Serena. “I’ve bound your use of Spirit. You won’t be able to dream to anyone, and you’ll lack the ability to use an anchor line.”
Serena sourced her lorethasra and her eyes widened in consternation. “But—”
“The other choice is leave you in a life raft,” Mr. Zeus said.
“What about Selene?” Serena demanded. “Will she be bound as well?”
“Selene will be tested,” Mr. Zeus said. “She’ll be watched. We’ll see who she truly is before deciding what to do with her.”
“Selene is an innocent, little girl,” William said.
“We’ll see,” Mr. Zeus repeated, his tone unyielding.
By the set of his mouth, William knew he wasn’t interested in hearing more about Selene. Nor was he willing to make a commitment about her future.
“I’m beat,” Jake announced.
“There’s a bunk down below,” Julius offered. “Couple of cots.”
Jake moved to take Selene from Serena. “I’ll put her in one of the beds,” he told her before glancing at the others. “Someone wake me up when we get to the Faroes?”
July 1987
* * *
Serena watched as Selene played in the surf, calling out to her favorite friend, Jake. In the weeks since they’d arrived on Arylyn, her sister had sprouted, filled out, and darkened, with a rich nut-brown hue to her skin. More importantly, Selene had learned to laugh without reservation. She laughed even now at something Jake had said or done.
Serena smiled, delighted to see her little sister thriving and happy, but some of her pleasure was wistful. She wished she could feel the joy Selene seemed to experience every day here on Arylyn.
Serena’s own time hadn’t been nearly as wonderful. Distrust followed her wherever she went, a cloud of whispered comments and dark looks. In the past none of it would have bothered her. But in the past Serena would have been back home on Sinskrill.
Back home.
Serena mused over the notion. Did she truly have a home? She didn’t think she did, but on Sinskrill she wouldn’t have cared what others thought of her, especially her lessers. On Sinskrill she would have shrugged off anyone’s poor opinion of her with a dismissive indifference.
But here on Arylyn, life marched to a different beat. Here, people genuinely cared about one another. They loved one another and shared friendship and family ties.
And here, other than Selene, Serena had no friends or family. The loneliness stung, especially when she witnessed the gladness of others, a joy in which she couldn’t take part. It left Serena wondering if she should have sent Selene alone to Arylyn and remained behind on Sinskrill. At least then she wouldn’t miss what she didn’t know.
Of course, events couldn’t have occurred like that. William and Jake knew nothing of sailing. They and Selene couldn’t have escaped Sinskrill without Serena to pilot Blue Sky Dreams.
Her dhow.
Serena had only had one chance to really sail her boat, and she wished she could have sailed her much more. If she still had the dhow, she could
have at least sailed her out into Arylyn’s turquoise waters and lazed the days away.
Anything would have been better than her current existence, sitting around like an unwanted guest, ghosting about the island, unloved and unliked in a world of friendship and happiness.
Serena grimaced, embarrassed by her self-pity.
Enough.
She stood up and dusted the golden sand off her loose-fitting clothes. The sun shone bright and warm, and while every day saw a number of brief showers, for the most part Arylyn was an island of light and rainbows.
Literally.
A double rainbow arched from the sea to the red-veined set of cliffs upon which Lilith, the only village on Arylyn, perched. The magi had built their homes there, a mystical place where a river broached the escarpment in dozens of locations. The cascades laddered hundreds of feet downward in a series of wispy waterfalls and tumultuous cataracts. A permanent mist fell in places while scant feet away, sunshine beamed. Dappled shadows of many colors, shaded homes and majestic bridges carved with mythical animals crossed canyons of spray and beauty.
Arylyn glowed golden and glorious, loveliness given life. Even the island’s lorasra tasted of fruit, something far better than Sinskrill’s wretched stink. Nevertheless, a part of Serena still ached for white-capped, rugged peaks, fields of heather, and indigo waters.
“You ever going to build another dhow?” William asked, stepping to her side.
His month on Arylyn had treated him well. He’d filled out a bit, regaining some of the weight he’d lost on Sinskrill, and browned up. He’d also shaved off the awful scruff on his face and gotten a proper haircut. He looked far better for all the changes.
“I’ve thought about it,” Serena said.
“Would you try to sail her back to Sinskrill?” William asked.
Serena looked his way, but he was staring at Jake and Selene where they practiced bodysurfing under Jason’s amused eye.
She went back to watching her sister as well. “You know I can’t,” she replied. “Lilith’s Council would never allow it.”
“But what if you could leave?”
“That part of my life is over,” Serena said. “I don’t want to go back.”
“But you miss it.”
“I miss the island,” Serena admitted, “but not the people. I miss the weather, too. Arylyn is too warm for me. I miss Sinskrill’s mist and cold. I even miss the clouds.”
William’s mouth curled upward in sardonic humor. “I miss nothing about Sinskrill, except Travail and Fiona. We need to go back for them.”
“You’ve been talking to Rukh,” Serena said.
“Rukh and Jessira.” William frowned. “They won’t explain themselves. Mr. Zeus knows something, but no one else believes they’re fifteen-year-olds who happen to be supremely gifted with any kind of weapon. And they sure act a lot older than high school freshmen.”
“There is something about them that draws you in, though, isn’t there?” Serena said. She’d felt that same attraction.
William nodded. “Even Jason has started trusting them.” He hesitated. “I like them, too.”
“Rukh thinks we need to go back to Sinskrill?”
“Rukh and Jessira believe you about Lord Shet.”
“They’re the only ones,” Serena said, not letting her bitterness show. How ironic. For once in her life she was telling the unvarnished truth, and no one believed her.
“I believe you.”
Serena eyed him in surprise.
William shrugged. “I don’t like you and I don’t trust you, but in this one thing, I do believe you. If nothing else, Selene says the same thing.”
“How generous,” Serena said. This time she did let the bitterness show.
“You brought this on yourself,” William reminded her.
“I own the responsibility for my current situation,” Serena admitted. “But I won’t apologize for what I did to you and Jake.” She gestured to Selene. “I had to save my sister, and I did.”
“I know,” William said. “I might have done the same thing if it was Landon’s life at stake.”
“Really?” Serena said in disbelief.
“I love Landon, and I’d do almost anything for him,” William said, “but I’d have told the truth about who I was and what I needed if our roles had been reversed. I would have been upfront about my motives. Maybe honesty doesn’t make everything right, but it helps.”
“Thank you for the advice,” Serena said, letting him hear the sarcasm, “but it really doesn’t matter now, does it?”
“Nope. But if you really are willing to listen to some advice, then take this. Stop with the drone expression.”
“The drone expression?”
William flattened his features, making them unreadable and tight yet somehow also arrogant.
Serena rocked back. “Is that what I’m doing?”
“No one knows how to react to you,” William said. “You lock yourself away. Try being friendly, smile because you mean it—I know you can at least fake that much—and maybe then you’ll actually make some friends. I know you can fake friendship, too. Your way, though, makes you look like a moron.”
Serena pursed her lips. In every conversation between them now, William insulted her and she had no answer. She couldn’t respond. She didn’t know how. Too much guilt at the harm she’d done him sealed her lips. Despite her unwillingness to apologize to him or Jake, it didn’t mean she wasn’t sorry.
“Anyway, if you ever decide to build another dhow, let me know,” William said. “I’ll help you out. So will Jake and a few others.”
“Why would you help me?” Serena asked.
“Because we’d expect you to help us,” William said. “I meant what I said before. Even if your story about Lord Shet is a bunch of bat guano, we still have to go back to Sinskrill and rescue Travail and Fiona.”
“Fiona can’t come with us,” Serena said. “She wears a necklace she can’t remove. Only the Servitor can. If she tries to do so or if she steps foot off Sinskrill while wearing it, the necklace will cut off her head.”
William’s features hardened. “One problem at a time.”
His intensity surprised her, and she eyed him in consideration. “You really expect to build another dhow, sail her to Sinskrill, and escape with Travail and Fiona.”
William shook his head. “I expect to sail a ship to Sinskrill, but I expect to take the anchor line off the island. Travail is afraid of the sea, remember?”
Serena laughed. “No one can open the anchor line except the Servitor. Only he knows the key.”
“The key can be learned,” William said.
“How?”
“Are you willing to risk yourself to save Travail and Fiona?” William asked instead of answering.
Serena nodded.
“Then we’ll need to build the boat. And this time you’re going to teach me to sail her.”
* * *
THE END
WILLIAM WILDE AND THE UNUSUAL SUSPECTS
NIGHTMARES
July 1987
* * *
William’s shout of fear echoed in the darkened room as he bolted upright from a dead sleep.
Where am I?
His thoughts swirled. His heart thudded in his ears. The dream . . .
Dangling from the Servitor’s Palace. An abyss beneath his feet. Fingers clutching, reaching for safety.
No. That terrifying event had happened weeks ago.
Memory returned haltingly as the nightmare dimmed, but the fear continued to linger.
Sinskrill.
William had survived the mahavans’ horrifying island, but sometimes he felt as if he’d never left. The terror Sinskrill kindled remained with him like a festering wound.
Would it ever leave?
“You all right?” Jake asked. The aroma of cut grass from his lorethasra—his inner magic—wafted across the room, a smell only an asrasin could sense. Next came the scent of sulfur, and a wave of cold as J
ake braided Fire and Air. The small lamp on the nightstand next to Jake’s bed lit, and the room brightened under its golden glow. Jake rubbed his eyes, his tousled, sandy-brown hair falling over his face.
A pair of twin beds flanked the only window in the bedroom, and on the wall opposite stood a chest of drawers. A ceiling fan stirred the air, while a half-moon beamed ivory light into their room. It shone on the cedar trunk crouched beneath the window. From outside, crickets chirped and a stray breeze rustled the curtains and brought in the fragrance of jasmine.
Initially, William and Jake had been given separate bedrooms when they had arrived on Arylyn, but their time on Sinskrill marked them too deeply. The horrors they’d experienced, the pain and trauma . . . They hadn’t been ready to be alone, and a month later they still shared a bedroom in Mr. Zeus’ home.
William rubbed his eyes and sat up with a sigh.
“Nightmare?”
William nodded.
“Maybe you should let Mr. Zeus . . . you know,” Jake wiggled his fingers.
“Take the memories away?” William asked.
“It helped me.”
“You needed it,” William replied. “You were lashed. No one should have to live with a memory like that.”
“You’ve got your own bad memories.”
“I know, but I don’t want to forget them. Then it might as well have not happened. But it did.”
“You want to remember Sinskrill?” Jake asked, his dark brown eyes reflecting his confusion.
“I don’t want to remember, but I also don’t want to forget,” William said. He frowned, struggling to more clearly express his thoughts. “We lived through something awful. It sucked, but we made it, and we shouldn’t forget what it was like.”
“I don’t think I can ever forget what it was like,” Jake said. He snapped his fingers. Again the cut-grass smell wafted from Jake, followed by sulfur. A tuft of flame lifted off his fingertips. It floated upward before dissipating into the air above his hand. “I couldn’t do that before, and I never wanted to. I only wanted to hang out with my friends and family and play safety for Notre Dame.”
