The Chronicles of William Wilde Boxset 1

by Davis Ashura

  “Julius promised to teach me Water,” William said. “Maybe I’ll actually master all the Elements before I’m done.”

  “You’re a raha’asra,” Jason said. “You’ll never master all the Elements.”

  “Not according to Fiona,” William said. “She says we’re more than jacks-of-all-trades.”

  “Guess we’ll find out,” Jason said. “Is Ward still teaching you the other Elements?”

  “Yeah, but Serena’s helping with the Fire part.” He flicked a glance at the water, where Serena rode into a curl, her athletic form flashing in and out of view.

  “You want her teaching you how to sail and how to source Fire?”

  William reddened. He’d stepped into that one. “I need to learn to fight with the Elements,” he said, “and no one’s better at it than her.”

  “There’s no other reason?” Jason pressed. “Nothing about how easy she is on the eyes?”

  William’s gaze automatically went to Serena again. She flashed out of the curl, narrow-waisted, and with her long, dark hair framing her face.

  “It’s actually because of what Rukh and Jessira said I should do,” William said. “They said I need to forgive her, and I’m trying. I don’t want to be a person who hates.”

  As he spoke the words, he realized that maybe Serena was following the same journey. Maybe she was trying to find a way to become a better person, too.

  TESTS

  November 1987

  * * *

  “Rukh says you have to infuse the wood with a touch of water to make it pliable,” William explained.

  Serena stood over him, and she leaned in closer as he braided a thick cord of Water supported by a thin thread of Earth. The weave susurrated like an ocean wave, washing over his shoulders and into his hands before he sent it rushing into the wooden slat.

  Serena whistled in appreciation at his skill. In the month since he'd started training with Ward and Julius, William had come very far, very fast. “Who taught you that?” she asked.

  “Julius,” William answered.

  Serena stepped away from him and leaned against the railing of her front porch. She couldn’t do what he’d done. She had some skill with Water, but not like William’s. Her gifts were Fire and Earth. Besides which, she hadn’t asked William down here to teach her to use Water.

  She’d asked him down here so they could start on the bicycles they’d talked about building. At least that was one reason. The other was she liked William, and she hoped one day he’d like her, too. As a friend only.

  She smiled as the thought passed through her mind. While mostly true, it was incomplete. A lie by omission, and she knew it. Isha had long ago forced her to acknowledge those moments when she sought to deceive herself.

  William rose, and she was struck by how tall he seemed these days. Since coming to Arylyn he hadn’t grown in height, but he had put on weight, and all of it muscle.

  Thankfully, William didn’t notice her silent assessment. Instead, he stared at the lagoon. “It’s always so beautiful down here.”

  Serena moved to his side.

  The waters of the lagoon glowed blue and gold beneath the afternoon sun, with green palm trees edging the white beach. The honeysuckle cultivar from Sile’s greenhouse had taken root, and the small plant already wore a few fragrant, white blossoms. It reminded her of the neighborhood she and William had lived in back in Cincinnati. Rows of honeysuckle grew there.

  “You’ve done a good job with this place,” William said with a smile. “It smells nice, too.”

  Serena tucked a loose lock of hair behind an ear. “Flattery will get you anywhere.”

  William grunted, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge her reply. He resumed staring at the lagoon. “Why didn’t you ask Lien to help you with the bike? Aren’t the two of you best friends now? I always see you playing enrune with her.”

  Serena blushed. “I don’t spend all my time playing.” Guilt rose at all the hours she did spend either surfing or at the enrune fields. On Sinskrill, such leisure activity would have been unthinkable, but not on Arylyn. Here, it was how life was lived. Work hard and play harder was the island’s unofficial motto.

  “I’m learning to farm from Sile Troy,” she added.

  “I heard,” William said. “But you didn’t answer my question. Why didn’t you ask Lien?”

  “I’m not really her friend,” Serena said, choosing her words carefully. “I’d like to be, but . . .” She shrugged.

  “What about Jake? He’d like a bike, too. So would Jason.”

  Serena snorted in derision. “I’m sure they’d both jump at the chance to work with me.”

  “Then why me? Do you think I’m your friend?”

  Serena stepped away from William, wanting distance from him and his uncomfortable question. Friendship. Such a simple concept that could lead to so many complications.

  She organized the slats of wood they’d spread out on the porch, wondering how to answer him. Maybe the truth would suffice, or maybe her heart could tell her lips what to speak.

  “You’re my friend,” she said. “It’s how I think of you. I know I’m not yours, but I’d like to be. One day, if you let me.”

  William appeared at a loss for words. He stared at her a moment before bending down to the wood she’d organized. “Let’s get back to work.”

  Serena mentally sighed. She had expected his reaction, but it was still disappointing.

  “Your turn.” William passed her a slat.

  “I’ll try,” she said, doubtful as to her success.

  Nevertheless, she sourced her lorethasra and concentrated. She tried to form the same weave William had created, and a thick braid of water pulsed down her arms. She released it, and realized her mistake the moment she did.

  Too much!

  The wood swelled like a sponge. Her attempt to draw out some of the water resulted in a puddle dribbling onto her shoes.

  William laughed. “Nice.”

  “Not all of us can master all Elements like you can,” Serena said with a rueful chuckle.

  “I’m not a master of any Element,” William said. “Not yet, anyway.”

  “You will be.”

  “Flattery will get you anywhere,” William replied, echoing her earlier comment.

  Serena arched an eyebrow. “Really? In that case, would you build my bike for me?”

  William shook his head. “Not that I don’t want to, but I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t have the control I need, not with Fire and Earth.” He held up the wooden slats. “These are supposed to be the rims for the wheels. We’re supposed to bend them into the right shape, fuse them with Earth, harden them with Fire, and lighten them with Air. I need your help for all of that.”

  “Show me the rough shapes of the braids you need me to make.”

  “What about the braids of Air?” William asked.

  “We’ll figure it out when we get there,” Serena said. “And when we do, we’ll have these bikes built and ride them while everyone else is green with envy.”

  William grinned and held out a hand. “Partners, then?”

  “Partners,” Serena said, shaking William’s hand.

  Serena wiped sweaty palms on her thighs, increasingly irritated at her trepidation. How could she, someone who had fought a necrosed, battled charging unformed, and defied the Servitor of Sinskrill to his very face, find the prospect of lunch with a teenage girl so nerve-wracking?

  What did she have to be afraid of? Nothing. It was only lunch with Lien.

  Serena repeated the words in her mind, trying to talk herself out of her anxiety. She even shook out her arms and legs, hoping doing so would shake out the nervousness as well.

  It didn’t. Serena’s heart still pounded, and butterflies remained in her stomach.

  Fine. Get it over with then.

  Serena took a final deep breath and gave a strong rap on the front door of the Karllsons’ home. She waited a
minute, but the door remained closed. Serena silently cursed, wondering if Lien had played a joke on her. She rapped again.

  Seconds later, Lien opened the door. “Come in,” she said, stepping aside for Serena to enter. “The Karllsons are out. So is Daniel.”

  Serena’s anxiety spiked. She felt like a cat who’d entered the den of a dangerous dog. She had to lean on her training from Sinskrill—she could still master her facial expressions when needed—and forced her features into something resembling pleasant curiosity.

  Lien led Serena through a wood-paneled study and into the kitchen. An island with a butcher-block counter held something that smelled divine.

  Despite her nervousness, Serena’s mouth watered. “Did the Karllsons adopt you when you came to Arylyn?” Serena asked. She mentally winced at the inane question.

  “Pretty much,” Lien said in a breezy tone. “Mr. Karllson found me in China. He brought me here the next day.”

  “Didn’t they take months before deciding to tell William the truth about Arylyn?” Serena asked.

  “Yes, but my situation was more desperate.”

  “How so?” Serena asked.

  “I cursed a statue of Mao and someone from the Ministry of State Security heard about it. I ran away, and lucked into a saha’asra. Magnus was visiting Beijing and felt my desperation. He found me, and I convinced him to take me with him.”

  Serena smiled. “That’s all it took? Some desperation and a sob story? Meanwhile, poor William had to wait months to learn the truth.”

  Lien grinned. “They took forever with William because he’s . . . you know, William.”

  Serena frowned in confusion, unsure what the other girl meant.

  “I like William,” Lien said, “but don’t you think he’s kind of boring?”

  Serena chuckled in amusement. William was many things, but boring wasn’t one of them. “I think there’s a lot more to him than you might think.”

  “Or maybe you don’t know him as well as you think you do,” Lien challenged.

  Serena’s brows furrowed as she considered the other girl’s statement. “I’ve spent a lot of time around William,” Serena said. “I saw him face down two unformed with nothing more than a stick,” she said. “I saw him go head-to-head against mahavans with hardly any training and never back down. I saw him make his sword glow like a lightsaber when he killed a necrosed. I know him well enough, and he’s not boring.”

  “Whatever,” Lien said, waving aside Serena’s words. “He’s brave, but I was talking about his personality. He’s dull.”

  Serena found herself irritated by Lien’s smug superiority. Annoyance burned away the last of her nervousness. Lien deserved to be taken down a peg. “You know, you act like you’re jaded, as if you’ve seen and done it all,” Serena said. “Like there’s nothing of interest to you anymore. That’s boring.”

  Lien scowled. “I didn’t ask you here so you could insult me.”

  “Then don’t insult people I like.” Serena mentally cursed her lapse of control. Lien had been kinder to her than she deserved, and here she was insulting her. “Do you want me to leave?”

  “No. I asked you here for my own reasons.” Lien pulled out two bowls and filled them with spicy noodles and chicken swimming in a delicate sauce. She handed one to Serena. “Eat.”

  Serena stared at the other girl in surprise. After their argument, she hadn’t expected Lien to feed her lunch.

  “Eat. Please,” Lien urged.

  Serena eyed her in doubt for a moment longer before taking a careful bite. She noticed the coconut milk. “It’s Thai, isn’t it?”

  Lien nodded. “It’s a recipe Mrs. Karllson shared with me. The first meal she made for me on Arylyn.”

  “But you’re Chinese.”

  “It’s the closest thing to my part of the world she knew how to make,” Lien said. “She made it out of love, and I’ll always love her for making me welcome. Welcoming a stranger is a rare act of love.”

  Serena studied Lien, wondering at her meaning and pushed aside her bowl. “I appreciate lunch, but maybe you can tell me why I’m here.”

  “I know you’re trying to make friends,” Lien said, “but all I know about you is that you’re the bitch who lied to us. I think it’s time I find out who you really are.”

  Serena stared at Lien in disbelief, both offended and impressed by her boldness.

  “It gets the job done,” Lien said, somehow guessing Serena’s silent question. “So, who are you?”

  Serena hesitated, and realized she didn’t know. “I’m not sure. I know who I was, and I have an idea of who I want to be, but I’m not that person yet.”

  “Then you need to figure that out,” Lien said. “Really know who you want to be and make it so. The meal and advice are free, and you can take or leave either.”

  Serena studied Lien, and truths clicked in her mind. “You’re not the arrogant, ennui-filled ditz you pretend to be, are you?”

  Lien grinned in answer. “Life’s more fun my way.”

  Jake waited alone in Mr. Zeus’ study and tried to relax, but he couldn’t. He was too full of nervous energy. Pacing didn’t help, so he decided to try a trick from childhood, one that had always settled his edginess. He came to a halt, closed his eyes, and tried to inventory the room’s contents.

  Two entrances led into the study, one off the foyer and the other from the kitchen. A window overlooked the front porch. A scarcely used fireplace broke up the line of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. They bent beneath stacks of musty books and scrolls, but over their moldy smell lingered the rich aroma of pipe-smoke. A large couch and coffee table faced a pair of brown leather chairs, while an overhead chandelier and a floor lamp provided the only sources of illumination.

  Illumination. Light in darkness. Who would bring light to his suffering family?

  Jake sighed. His old trick hadn’t distracted him after all. Nothing would.

  Today was too important. Today he’d demonstrate the weave required to leave Arylyn, the one that could block a normal person from speaking of magi and magic. If he failed . . .

  With an angry snarl, he began pacing again. He’d likely fail, but he had to try. He couldn’t give up and do nothing.

  “Are you ready?” Mr. Zeus asked.

  Jake’s thoughts were so inwardly focused that he hadn’t noticed the old magus enter the room. He drew on his frustration. Anger flared. Adrenaline rushed up like a wave, washing away his nervousness.

  Jake gave a sharp nod. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “I hope not,” Mr. Zeus replied, surprising Jake, “because whether you pass or fail, I still have hope that you’ll deepen your skills.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jake agreed.

  “Sit down and let’s start,” Mr. Zeus said.

  Jake settled into the leather chair he’d recently abandoned, and Mr. Zeus took the other one.

  “Source your Spirit,” Mr. Zeus said, “and show me what you can do.”

  Jake began. By will and many hours of practice, he easily formed a thick, ivory ball of Spirit. It glowed in his hands, warm like a mug of hot coffee. He began working it. A snip here, a tug there, a twist of the entire structure, and after a few seconds the weave took form. He laced a thin webbing of whispering Earth into the shape he’d created.

  “It’s too thick,” Mr. Zeus critiqued. “Thin it out. The way it is now, it’ll wipe out a person’s entire sense of self.”

  Jake licked his lips. This was the hard part, making the weave as delicate and elegant as it had to be. So far, he only succeeded one time out of every five. Jake furrowed his brow in concentration as he attempted what Mr. Zeus required. He pushed, trying to weaken the braid. He continued to push, and lost control of his weave. It fell apart in a wash of light and a sound like ringing chimes.

  As soon as it did so, Jake realized his mistake. He hadn’t let the braid come apart in a controlled fashion. It had simply disintegrated.

  Jake opened his mouth to speak, but he
couldn’t remember how. No sound came from him. Jake gaped in alarm at Mr. Zeus. His fear heightened when the edges of his vision blurred and went black. The darkness crowded further. Sounds ceased. His head throbbed.

  Jake panicked.

  He felt a hand on his head then.

  Mr. Zeus.

  A healing braid wafted like a soothing mist down past the roots of his hair, the skin of his scalp, and through his skull. The pounding of his head eased. His vision cleared, and he could hear again. He cleared his throat. He could also speak again.

  Relief flooded through him, but so did anger at himself. How could he have been so careless? The rebound from his braid could have left him a drooling invalid or even killed him.

  “I know you’ve heard me say this before,” Mr. Zeus said, his face obviously irritated, “but please be careful. That braid could have left you a cretin.”

  Jake nodded mutely. “Yes, sir.” His voice worked but the words came out slurred.

  Mr. Zeus seemed to take in Jake’s worried features, and his expression softened. “It’ll pass. You’ll be fine. Plus, you did better than you did a few months ago,” he said. “Don’t be so disheartened. You’ll get there. You’ll master your skills.”

  “I guess,” Jake said, but after what had just happened, mastery never seemed so far away.

  “You’re still learning,” Mr. Zeus said, returning to his chair. “Finer control is all you lack, and that comes with practice. So does speed.”

  “How long do you think it’ll take?” Jake said, still struggling to form the words. Fear flowed through him, and he hoped Mr. Zeus was right, that his voice would go back to normal.

  “As long as it takes.”

  Meaning a few years, the same answer Mr. Zeus had offered several months ago when Jake had last attempted to form the braid.

  Damn.

  The room settled into silence, and Jake’s shock receded. He’d made a mistake, but it hadn’t been a fatal one. Or a permanent one. Hopefully.

  “I’ll ask Sioned for some extra lessons,” Jake said, focusing to make his words intelligible.