by Davis Ashura
Serena threw her head back and cast her arms wide as if to embrace the world. A cloudy ceiling filled the sky from horizon to horizon and hid the noonday sun while a bracing, brisk wind streamed through her hair. She shivered, and imagined the tang of glacier bracing the chill air.
She loved it.
Arylyn was lovely, but something in her heart sometimes longed for cold mists and the indigo waters of the Norwegian Sea around Sinskrill. They had long since passed west of Mykines, Vágar, Streymoy, Eysturoy—islands in the Faroes—and soon they would approach the mahavan island itself. With the knowledge came trepidation, and some of her excitement faded. Imagining what it would be like to step foot again on Sinskrill caused her fear to momentarily spike.
She tried to set aside her worries and made her way to William’s side. The yacht dipped into the trough of a wave, and she automatically flexed her knees, maintaining her balance as the boat rocked and swayed.
William stood with his hands on the ship’s wheel, guiding the yacht they’d rented in Tórshavn. The pride of a teacher shone within Serena as she watched William handle the boat. His eyes drifted to the tell-tales and the sails, and he called out small adjustments for Julius, Rukh, and Jessira to make. However, even if the wind had died off completely, they would have been fine. The yacht had a fully powered engine to keep it going.
“You’re doing a good job of sailing, Captain,” Serena teased.
“Are you saying that because you mean it or because you’re trying to keep yourself distracted?”
“Both.”
William chuckled. “Then I guess I’ll take the compliment.”
“You know, I’m fairly certain this is the same yacht we used the last time we were here and rescuing the two of you and Jake,” Mr. Zeus said, glancing around from where he stood at the gunwale.
“Then let’s hope it’s as lucky for Fiona and Travail as it was for us,” Serena said.
“And let’s hope we’re not unlucky enough to have it nearly burn down around our ears like the last time,” Julius said.
“Luck is a fine thing,” Jessira said, as she came up from downbelow, “but faith and love are even finer.”
Serena considered the words. “For what we’re attempting, if I had to choose between faith and love versus luck, I think I’d rather have luck.”
“Are you sure?” Jessira asked, and Serena sensed the other woman’s amusement.
“Love is why we’re here,” Rukh said, “and faith in our friends is the only reason any of us have chosen to make this attempt at saving those you love.”
“Faith and love,” Jessira said. “Place your trust in what you already have, and luck will come to you.”
Serena flicked her gaze from Rukh to Jessira, trying to find a flaw in their reasoning. There had to be one.
“All that’s true, but I’m sticking with luck,” William announced, “as long as it isn’t bad.”
“How much longer to Sinskrill?” Julius asked.
“Three hours,” Serena said. “We’ll head east soon, and skirt the island so we can come upon it from the north. We want to be on the opposite side of Village White Sun. That’s where we’ll find Barrier Bay.”
“You’ll drop us off there,” Rukh said to Julius and Mr. Zeus, “and make your way to White Sun to kidnap Fiona.”
“I remember our part in the plan,” Mr. Zeus said, sounding annoyed. Then again, he was usually the one doing all the reminding. Serena figured he didn’t like being on the receiving end of all these simple prompts.
Rukh nodded acceptance. “Good. Then we’ll proceed with the plan and disembark at night.”
“Still think the unformed can see through a Blend?” William asked.
“We have to assume they can,” Rukh answered.
“The Blend is not a perfect camouflage,” Jessira answered. “Emotions leak out of it, as do loud noises and smells. I don’t know how keen the senses of these unformed are, but they might see through it.”
“Their senses are keen,” Mr. Zeus said. “Unformed are hunters. They can feel, or maybe even smell, fear.”
“Then the Blend will hide us from the sight of most, but we’ll have to assume it can be penetrated,” Rukh said.
“Imperfect is better than nothing,” Serena said. She refused to be daunted by the steep odds they faced. If they let their worries overwhelm them, why had they come at all? Better to maintain hope than surrender to doubt and fear.
They dropped anchor a mile off the north shore of Barrier Bay. The yacht halted in full dark beneath a dreary drizzle. The thinnest sliver of a crescent moon made a brief appearance before the ever-present clouds of Sinskrill swallowed it. Waves lapped against the side of the yacht, and everyone worked in silence. They used weak, red flashlights as they prepared the boat meant to carry William, Serena, Rukh, and Jessira to Sinskrill.
William shivered in his parka. He’d grown used to Arylyn’s warmth, and unlike Serena and Jessira, he didn’t miss the cold at all. In fact, he despised it, especially the frigid wind whipping the rain sideways and soaking him. It made it impossible to stay dry.
He grimaced in disgust. He hated this island, not only because of everything that had happened to him here, but also because of the very nature of the place. The endless, dull clouds. The perpetually damp weather. The unremitting, frigid rain. Utterly depressing, with tonight a perfect example of the island’s lack of charm.
“Don’t let your satellite phone get wet,” Mr. Zeus warned William. “Once we’ve accomplished our part of the plan, we’ll let you and the others in Australia know. Then it’ll be up to you and luck.” He quirked a smile at Rukh and Jessira. “Or faith and love.”
“You’re learning,” Jessira said in approval.
“Wait for us over the horizon in case we’re unable to extricate the troll and Fiona via the anchor line,” Rukh told Mr. Zeus.
“I remember,” Mr. Zeus said. “Now get going. Hopefully in a few days, we’ll all be able to share a few laughs and a strong drink on Arylyn.”
Rukh and Jessira boarded the rowboat, and William and Serena followed. A winch lowered them to the dark waters. As they descended, William patted his sword for what felt like the millionth time, wondering if could actually bring himself to kill someone. He’d have to, or all of this might be for naught.
The rowboat touched the water, and Jessira cast off the ropes attaching them to the yacht. She and Rukh took the oars.
“We’ll do that,” Serena said. “We need you two rested and ready in case there’s fighting to be done.”
Jessira silently moved aside for Serena to take a seat next to a set of oars. Rukh did the same for William.
“Don’t tax yourself,” Jessira said. “We need you rested as well.”
William nodded before sourcing his lorethasra and took a moment to brace himself. For the first time in months, he would link to the awful miasma of Sinskrill’s lorasra. One last deep breath, and he took the plunge.
His gorge rose. “It’s like drinking from a sewer,” he said, trying to control his stomach’s desire to heave.
Serena swallowed heavily, and her face became pale. “You get used to it.”
“I’d rather not get used to it,” Rukh said. He appeared sickly as well.
William’s nausea eventually settled, and he nodded his readiness to Serena. They drifted away from the yacht, and William gazed back at it. In the dark, the boat’s deep-blue hull proved difficult to see. One last glimpse and it was lost to sight. William shivered again, an action unrelated to the wind or the cold.
They were really, truly going back to Sinskrill.
He and Serena rowed steadily toward the island. They both wove simple braids of Water and Air to shorten the journey, and they swiftly cut past massive boulders littering the waters of Barrier Bay.
Minutes later, the unforgiving cliffs of Sinskrill’s northern reaches loomed closer. They towered in dark, ominous relief against the gloom of the night. Lightning flashed, and William caught
a glimpse of their destination, a shingle beach. Detritus littered the shore, and shadows oozed inky menace. Thunder rolled across the sky.
William shook his head and reined in his wild imaginings. He made himself think about what they had to accomplish. First, they had to reach the island unnoticed. Next, they had to hide and wait for word from Mr. Zeus and Julius. Then they’d meet with Travail and Fiona and make final plans to contact the group in Australia. And finally, if faith, love, and luck saw them through, they’d all escape through Sinskrill’s anchor line.
The first part, though—arriving undetected—was the most important.
“Have you done the thing?” William asked Rukh, releasing an oar and making a vague gesture with his hand.
“I’ve formed a Blend,” Jessira answered, “but with the clouds and rain, I doubt any unformed can see us even without one.”
“Is your Blend—” Serena grunted on the stroke of an oar, “–as good as Rukh’s?”
“Better,” Jessira answered. “I’m the one who taught him.”
“Brand Wall taught me,” Rukh corrected.
“I improved on his teaching.”
Minutes later, the rowboat scraped against stone when it reached the shallows before the beach. William winced at the sound. The rowboat drifted backward, but Rukh clambered out and, one-handed, dragged them the rest of the way ashore.
William gawked. Even with his necrosed-enhanced strength, he couldn’t have done something like that.
Rukh sourced his lorethasra, and the smell of iron rose on the air. He deftly twisted a braid of Spirit, Air, Fire, and Water.
The complexity of the weave took William’s breath away. He had no idea what Rukh’s weave did, but he figured it had to be something awesome. William sent up a prayer, thankful that Rukh and Jessira were on their side.
HEARTBREAK MEETING
Fiona’s eyes snapped wide when she heard the door to her cottage creak open. She immediately sourced her lorethasra, ready to light into whoever sought to sneak into her home.
Decades of life on Sinskrill had taught her to be wary. While overt murder was unheard of on the island—the Servitor would never allow such wastage—it didn’t mean that violence of some other kind didn’t occur. It did, and most times the bruises were never seen. In addition, while Fiona’s age and stature allowed her to fear little from other mahavans, anyone stealing into her home at this late hour couldn’t have good intentions.
“Fiona,” a man whispered, someone she didn’t recognize. “My name is Odysseus, known as Zeus by some. Serena should have told you about me.”
Fiona’s thoughts and fears stilled. She could barely speak.
Those dreams, meant to be shared only by family or those who were close to one another . . . She remembered every image received, every impression, but fear forced her to suffocate her hope for freedom. Hope was dangerous on Sinskrill. It led to folly and death. In this one instance, however, could it lead to freedom?
Flashes of memory raced through her mind. Years of life on Sinskrill. Stolen decades. Children loved, killed, and buried. Love never expressed, and love destroyed. Remorse and sorrow twisted within her with burgeoning hope for the future providing potential meaning to her immeasurable loss.
However, before she could accept hope’s offer, Fiona required a final proof. “Show yourself.”
A hooded lantern glowed with a dim, red light and made visible an old man, white-haired, white-bearded, and with a face full of wrinkles. Behind him stood a young man, dark-skinned and with dark, braided hair. He was obviously terrified, a demonstration of his good sense.
“This is Julius,” Zeus said. He flicked off the lantern.
Wise. Less chance of anyone seeing his light.
Zeus stepped closer. “Thank you for placing the blue flowers outside your front door.”
“What happens now?” Fiona asked in a whisper.
She saw a flash of teeth as the old man smiled. “Now we rescue you,” he said. “We have to tie you up and put a rag over your mouth, but they’ll be loose so you can easily escape.”
Fiona shook her head. “No. Make the bindings tight. The Servitor won’t believe I was truly abducted otherwise.”
“How will you get free?” Zeus asked.
“I have a knife hidden in the small of my back. I’ll use it to cut the ties.”
The old man, a shadowed form in her cottage, nodded. “We’ll go with what you deem best. You’ll cut the ties, start howling for help, and leap off our rowboat. Do it with your legs still bound, though.”
“Why?”
“If this Servitor is as untrustworthy as you say, barely surviving your kidnapping might be the final act that convinces him to remove your necklace.”
“The necklace starts tightening twenty or thirty yards from shore,” Fiona said. “That’s when I need to make my escape. Maybe at forty yards. It’ll constrict, but it should leave me enough breath to swim back to shore.”
Julius approached. “We need to hurry. Someone might notice the yacht.” He held a rope. “Do you mind?”
“Do it,” Fiona ordered. She held still while Julius bound her hands behind her back, tied her feet together at the ankles, and stuffed a rag into her mouth. She gagged at the last, but at least the cloth was clean.
“I’m going to braid a block on your ability to source your lorethasra,” Zeus said. “That should also help our cause with the Servitor.”
“It’s time to go,” Julius said. He fairly bounced with anxiety.
Zeus nodded, and before Fiona could ready herself, the two men lifted her up. She tried not to struggle while they crept from her cottage. She hated being carried. It made her feel like a sack of onions, bouncing about and squished in inappropriate places.
They slipped out into the night. Village White Sun remained cloaked in darkness. The few lampposts scattered about did little to illuminate the gloom, especially with Sinskrill’s typical mist and fog to shroud the streets.
Nevertheless, Zeus and Julius avoided any light as they crept amongst the shadows. They shuffled forward, slowly edging toward the pier. All the while, Fiona’s heart pounded, sounding in her ears like a thudding drum.
“Someone’s coming,” Julius hissed.
The steady tromp of boots reached Fiona.
“Here,” Zeus ordered.
The two men ducked with her into a shadowed alley.
Yellow light approached, and Fiona’s heart hammered harder. The Night Watch.
Indistinct voices echoed along the silent streets of Village White Sun. Fiona silently cursed. Beams of light pressed into the alley, bare feet from where they hid. Fiona held her breath. The sound of conversation crested, but nothing more than indecipherable murmurs arose. No distinct words.
After what felt like hours, the voices, lights, and sound of boot steps eventually faded.
The two men remained hidden, though.
Good. No reason to leave too soon and blunder into the Night Watch.
After the passage of ten more seconds, Zeus whispered, “Now.”
They eased from the alley. Once more, they kept to the shadows and steadily made their way to the wharf. From her vantage point, Fiona could barely make out the pier but saw that it was perhaps fifty yards away.
“There’s the rowboat,” Julius whispered.
“And there’s the yacht,” Zeus said, sounding relieved.
Fiona’s heart continued to hammer, but this time in exultation. Almost there. She tried to keep the hope down, but it insisted on burbling and bursting forth. If her mouth hadn’t been gagged, she would have laughed with joy.
“Halt!” a voice cried out.
Fiona’s heart seized. They’d been discovered.
Rushing boot heels struck the pavement. The lampposts along the pier flared to life. The world was revealed in a sharp relief of light and shadow. Fiona knew that she and the two men stood out, exposed amongst the light.
Zeus sourced his lorethasra. A snap of Earth put out the lampp
osts.
He and Julius sprinted for the docks.
Zeus cried out when he stumbled and crashed to the ground. His fall took Fiona down as well.
The guards were mere yards away.
“Run!” Zeus said to Julius. “Save yourself. Tell the others what happened. I’ll hold them off.”
“But—”
“Go!”
Julius argued no more. His footsteps raced away, and with them went the last of Fiona's hope.
Three mahavans reached them, and Fiona cursed her inability to see. She’d landed face down. Nevertheless, she could sense.
Zeus was a powerful asrasin. He battled with Earth, Air, and Spirit. He snuffed out a ring of Fire and cracked apart a cage of Earth. He kept the mahavans at bay with a blast of Air set alight with Fire.
It wasn’t enough.
A rumbling blow of Earth slipped through his defenses, and Fiona heard him shout in pain. Sulfurous fire singed him, but this time he held silent.
He continued fighting, but by now more mahavans had poured in to support the members of the Night Watch who had discovered them.
An engine roared to life—Julius must have reached the yacht—while Zeus fought on. He shouted a final time before thudding to the ground.
Fiona struggled to move, hoping to catch the attention of the mahavans. If she could distract them further, Julius would more easily make it to safety.
“Fiona!” one of the mahavans shouted. “They wanted to steal her away.”
Someone rolled her over and ripped away the gag from her mouth.
A young mahavan, eyes wild and ready for blood, stood over her.
“Send for the Servitor and the Secondus,” Fiona ordered. “They must be made aware of what has happened.”
“What about the other one? We might still catch him.”
“What if there are more magi aboard with him?” Fiona asked. “You saw how hard the old man was to pull down. Do you really want to face them without the Servitor’s power to buttress your own?”
The mahavan quailed a moment before snapping out orders. “Send for the Servitor. Now! He must know of this.”
