by Davis Ashura
“And someone untie me and unbind my lorethasra,” Fiona growled. She forced herself to remember who she was, where she was, and ignored the death of hope, the desire to weep. Weakness was a death sentence on Sinskrill.
The sound of the boat’s engine grew faint, and she breathed out. At least Julius had escaped.
Julius’ heart pounded with terror and adrenaline as he stared back at Sinskrill. Lights had bloomed all along Village White Sun’s shoreline, and shouts rang out across the water.
Damn it! He pounded the ship’s wheel. They’d been so close! Only a few more yards, and the plan would have worked. Now it was all gone. A disaster.
He continued to stare back at Sinskrill, still shocked by Mr. Zeus’ capture. The shouts from Village White Sun slowly diminished and only intermittently sounded. The lights remained, though, focused on the area of the harbor where they’d been discovered.
Fear for Mr. Zeus roiled Julius’ stomach. What would the mahavans do to him? If even half of what William and Jake had said about Sinskrill was true, it didn’t bear considering.
Shit! He pounded the ship’s wheel again.
The yacht continued to pull away from Village White Sun’s harbor, and Julius’ thoughts knotted, whirling and swirling without pattern and purpose, like twigs caught in a rushing stream. For a moment, panic threatened to overwhelm him, but enough reason remained, and he forced himself to think. He turned away from Sinskrill and focused on the water in front of him.
Right now, given the gloom of mist and fog, he couldn’t see more than several dozen yards forward. That couldn’t go on. He needed to know what was ahead of him. It wouldn’t do to hit a rock.
He sourced his lorethasra and linked to the sewage of Sinskrill’s lorasra. He braided Water, and his weave rippled off his arms and into the bay. Julius used it to feel for upcoming obstructions and also stretched it back toward Sinskrill, feeling for anyone coming after him.
He sensed nothing. No pursuit, which was a miracle. Water Masters should have been riding his wake.
Julius’ thoughts slowly calmed. Everyone else needed to know what had happened. They’d have to abort the mission and return to Arylyn.
His jaw clenched. They’d have to abandon Mr. Zeus.
Guilt at the notion sat like a lead weight in Julius’ belly. How could he have left the old man behind? He should have done something.
Julius hit the ship’s wheel a third time. Damn it!
But what could he have done? If he’d stayed, he’d have been captured, too.
Julius sighed, and some of the anger and frustration drained away.
Time to make the call. He pulled out the satellite phone—thankfully, he’d been the one carrying it—and dialed William’s number.
“Mr. Zeus?” William whispered.
“Julius.”
“How’d it go?”
Julius swallowed another lump of guilt and regret. “A disaster,” he said. He explained what had happened. “We have to abort the mission. I’ll pick you up at Barrier Bay, and we’ll head back to the Faroes.”
A crackle came across the earpiece.
“No,” Rukh said. “The plan’s merely been altered. Jessira and I will free Mr. Zeus.”
“What!” Julius barked. “Are you insane?”
“We’ll get him out of wherever the mahavans have him secured,” Rukh said, his voice filled with certainty.
“How?” Julius demanded. “You don’t even know where they’re taking him.”
“They’ll take him to the prison under the Servitor’s Palace,” Serena whispered in the background.
“We can do this,” Rukh said.
“You’re crazy. You’re only going to get everyone else captured.”
“I know it sounds that way, but you’ve only seen some of what we can do,” Rukh said. “You haven’t seen all of it. Breaking into the Servitor’s Palace and freeing Mr. Zeus won’t be hard.”
The man sounded so sure of himself. Julius wanted to punch the smug certainty out of him. Nonetheless, he had no option but to go along with what Rukh ordered, since William and Serena had already agreed with the man’s plan.
Rukh spoke again. “As we discussed, William and Serena will make contact with Travail, and we’ll all get through the anchor line when it’s open to Australia. The plan’s only altered slightly.”
Only slightly? Asshole.
“What about Fiona?” Julius heard Serena whisper in the background.
“If the Servitor removes the necklace, or we figure a way to get it off her, she comes with us,” Jessira answered.
“We’ll let the group in Australia know what’s happened,” Rukh said.
“What are you going to tell them?” Julius asked.
“That Mr. Zeus has been captured. We’ll free him, and they need to enter the Australian saha’asra three hours sooner than we originally planned.”
Fiona watched as Zeus struggled to get to his feet, but they were kicked out from beneath him. A blow to the head made his eyes roll. He tried to stand again, and received a crack to the jaw. This time he collapsed.
“Enough,” the Servitor said, having just arrived.
Fiona stood tall. She couldn’t afford to show anything but outrage at her near abduction.
Zeus worked his way back to his knees. He blinked repeatedly, as if he couldn’t see clearly.
The Servitor loomed above him. “I told you one day you would kneel before me. Now I will teach you the true measure of pain.” He wore a chilling smile as he stroked Zeus’ white hair. Fiona sensed the Servitor forge a braid to block the old man’s use of lorethasra. “You were a fool to come back.”
Zeus flinched, and the Servitor smiled more widely. “Take both of them to the prison,” he ordered Adam, his Secondus. “I’ll question them in greater detail in the morning.”
Fiona gawked. “My Lord,” she protested, “why am I to be questioned? These brigands tried to steal me away from Sinskrill. The Night Watch will attest to that. I was bound.”
“So you were,” the Servitor replied, “but when the raha’asras you helped train initiated their escape, you sent the Palace’s mahavans north, rather than east after Serena. It was an understandable mistake, since my own words could have spurred your actions. But if they’d followed their impulse to chase my fleeing daughter, she would have been caught and the raha’asras would have never escaped.
“Now this occurs,” the Servitor continued. “Another example of your involvement in a magi assault on Sinskrill. Once is poor luck, twice is coincidence. We’ll learn if thrice makes a plot.” He strode to a saddled stallion and rode away in a clatter of hoof beats.
Fiona hid a shiver of fear. She knew the magi’s plan, and knew the Servitor would learn everything he needed from her. Her life was over. Her head dropped as a pair of mahavans grasped her under the arms.
They did the same to Zeus, but he fought against his captors, seeking to free himself.
His struggles ended when Adam Paradiso brandished a knife and held it an inch from the old man’s eyes. “You do not need to see in order to scream.”
Zeus settled down, and they were hustled away. The journey passed in silence as the grim-faced mahavans marched them swiftly through Village White Sun. They ascended the hill to the Servitor’s Palace, and all the while the mahavans’ gazes darted about. They were obviously on alert for another attack.
As they traveled, Fiona managed to murder her grief. Weakness wouldn’t help her. It never had. She called on the deep core of strength she’d developed during her long years on Sinskrill. She wasn’t dead yet. Perhaps her questioning would be perfunctory. She might yet survive this disastrous night.
Minutes later, they reached the Servitor’s Palace and were unceremoniously hurled into adjacent cells, like sacks of rotten vegetables.
The mahavans left, and Fiona and Zeus—What a ridiculous name—were left alone in the dark. She sat with her back to a wall and faced the door to her cell with eyes closed. She needed t
o husband her strength for what was to come.
After minutes of silence, with no one to check on them, Zeus spoke. “Can you source your lorethasra?” he whispered.
She shifted about and peered through the darkness. The old man was an indistinct form in the other cell. “I cannot and will not help you.” She spoke words intended for any eavesdropping Air Masters, several of whom were likely listening in on them right now.
“I need you to unbraid the lock they’ve put on me.”
“Be silent! I do not know you, and I will not help you,” Fiona repeated.
Even while she spoke, she sourced her lorethasra and formed a block of Air about them, barring any sounds from extending past their cells.
“But—”
“Now we can talk. I’ve formed a block of Air.”
“Why?”
“Because the Air Masters on this island hear all,” Fiona explained. “They listen for sedition. Now be quick. What do you want from me?”
“If you lift my braid, I can dream to someone. He might have a way of freeing us.”
“Free you, but not me,” Fiona said, knowing bitterness filled her voice. She shook her necklace.
“About that. From the description Serena gave me—”
“How is she doing?” Fiona interrupted. “What about Selene?” If this would be the last night of her life, she wanted to at least know that her granddaughters prospered.
“They’re both doing well,” Zeus said. “When she isn’t surfing, Serena has become a farmer, and Selene is on her way to transforming into a bright, beautiful young lady. They’re both happy.”
Fiona breathed out, grateful to know that her granddaughters—the only good things remaining in her life—had found joy.
“Anyway, your necklace is what I thought it would be, a locked nomasra. The key to unlocking it is a simple cipher made of the Elements.”
“I already know this,” Fiona replied.
“You do?” Zeus asked. He sounded surprised. “Then why haven’t you removed it?”
“Because even though I know it’s a cipher, I can’t create a braid fine enough to weave the key. No one but the Servitor can.”
“Not true,” Mr. Zeus said. “I can.” He sounded utterly sure of himself. Then again, his surety had landed them in the Servitor’s prison.
“So easy, is it?” Fiona snorted in derision. “No one is that skilled.”
“From what I’ve seen of Serena, she’s powerful at creating quick braids, but the tight weaves we use on Arylyn have been a challenge for her.”
Fiona paused. She hoped to survive tomorrow’s questioning, but in her soul she knew it unlikely. She would break. Or Zeus would. In either case, she would die. The only way to freedom lay in whatever crazy plan the old man had in mind. But first, she’d have to unseal his use of lorethasra.
A realization occurred then. “If this is true, you could have removed the necklace once we reached your rowboat.”
“It was my intention,” Zeus said. “I didn’t think to study the necklace until we had arrived at Village White Sun’s pier, and once I realized what it was, I was going to remove it. I saw no reason to let you flounder back to Sinskrill when I could have gotten you safely off the island on my own.”
Incandescent rage roared to life within Fiona. God damn it! She’d been seconds away from freedom!
“Will you unlock my braid?” Zeus asked.
Fiona suffocated her fury and concentrated. “It’s done.”
Zeus inhaled deeply and seemed to stretch himself. A moment later he sourced his lorethasra. “Let’s take care of your necklace.”
A sharp click echoed in the prison, and for the first time in sixty years the necklace unsnapped from Fiona’s neck. Free, or at least freer than she had been in decades. “Now what?” she asked the old man.
“Now we unlock the cells and get out of here.”
“They’re braided to prevent that.”
Zeus’ teeth flashed in the darkness. “The locks are simple ciphers.”
Fiona chuckled.
Jake sat alone on a log before the fire and cursed the cold weather and clouds hovering about the saha’asra in Australia. In the winter, the outback could be as cold and miserable as Sinskrill. The only difference was that the noonday sun here burned brightly rather than hid behind a bank of clouds.
Jake noticed the fire burning low, and he tossed another log onto it. They’d brought the wood with them, since the red, stony hills, shadowed canyons, and broad, empty plains surrounding the saha’asra connected to Sinskrill had no trees of any note. A moaning wind caused Jake to shiver, and he eyed the nearby vehicles with envy.
Daniel and the others had wisely decided to huddle within the old, white bus they’d purchased. They’d correctly reckoned that the interior would be warmer than the world outside. Jake would have joined them, but he didn’t want to talk to anyone. He wanted silence, even if it meant staying out in the cold.
He stood up to stretch and stomped his feet to work sensation back into his toes. As he paced around the fire, he wondered how William’s group was doing. A few days ago they’d received a call that they’d arrived in Sinskrill, and several hours ago that Mr. Zeus and Julius were about to make the attempt on Fiona.
Since then—silence.
Jake wandered around the fire and stared at the rugged countryside, lost in thought. He couldn’t wait to see his family again. Maybe he’d visit some of his old friends. He hadn’t done so the last time he’d visited Cincinnati. Too many memories and explanations.
Jake startled out of his reverie when the satellite phone rang. He scrambled to retrieve it and quickly punched the answer button. “Hello?”
“Jake?” William spoke on the other end of the line.
“Yeah. How’d it go?”
“Not good,” William said. “Something went wrong when Mr. Zeus and Julius tried to get Fiona. Mr. Zeus got captured.”
“What!”
“We’re going through with the rest of the plan. We’ll still link up with Travail, but we’re moving the timeline forward. We need you ready three hours early.”
Questions swirled in Jake’s mind. He settled on what he thought was the most important. “What happened?”
“Bad luck,” William said, “but Rukh says he and Jessira can free Mr. Zeus. He wants us ready to go as soon as it’s done, just like we discussed. When you enter the saha’asra, the mahavans should still come for you. They’ll probably think it’s some kind of attack, and the Servitor will open the anchor line.”
“Why not go with the original timeline?” Jake asked.
“Because once Mr. Zeus is freed, the whole island will be looking for us,” William said. “There’s no way we’ll be able to stay hidden that long, especially if we stay near Travail and the anchor line.”
“Three hours early then,” Jake said. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, like it always did before a big game. Except this time the game was for life and death. “We’ll be ready.”
BATTLE OF MYSTERIES
Jessira and Rukh peered into the heart of the Servitor’s Palace as they huddled at the edge of the bailey.
“Keep your Blend tight,” Jessira whispered. “We still don’t know the full extent of what these unformed can do.”
She knew he didn’t need the warning, but habit forced her to remind him anyway. Jessira always worried for Rukh, worried about his recklessness and his need to save others, no matter the cost to himself. Her husband had a madness in him, something that made him rash, made him disregard his own safety.
Rukh nodded, but his eyes remained focused on the area before them.
Jessira pushed aside a strand of hair that had fallen over her eyes. The wind blew the drizzly rain sideways, and the water streamed down her face, soaking her from the crown of her head to the nape of her neck.
Jessira smiled inside. Despite the gravity of the situation, the damp, chilly weather reminded her of her lost home of Stronghold. So many wonderful memor
ies there.
Her fond thoughts faded. Stronghold was long dead.
“Where is everyone?” Rukh asked. He gestured to the empty bailey.
Jessira shrugged. She had no idea.
Thus far, they’d penetrated the Servitor’s Palace without any real opposition. Only a handful of warriors guarded the main gate. Strange. After Mr. Zeus’ capture, Jessira would have expected the Palace to be a hive of activity, locked up tight enough to keep out a mouse. Instead, she and Rukh had easily evaded the four guards at the main gate, and the bailey itself stood quiet and empty.
But appearances could be deceiving.
Jessira sensed guards upon the alabaster ramparts above, and she reckoned some of their brethren likely patrolled the grounds below. Unfortunately, she couldn’t see or hear them. With the darkness, rain, and fog, visibility had diminished to no more than twenty or thirty feet in all directions. Even sounds were muffled.
Rukh signaled, and Jessira crouched lower. He’d heard something. His senses had always been more acute than hers. Jessira conducted more Jivatma—lorethasra as they called it here--and tightened her Blend. She strained her senses as she listened for whatever Rukh heard.
Moments later, the echo of hobnailed boots striking stone reached her, followed by a murmur of voices. Jessira held her breath. Two warriors strode past at a distance of no more than five feet.
Jessira breathed easier when they failed to slow. The guards pressed on, and their conversation faded.
Rukh signaled when he could no longer hear the guards, but they remained crouched in case more lingered nearby.
While they waited, Jessira peered into the gloom and studied the entrance to the prison. It lay on the far side of the bailey, past the barracks and stables. All appeared quiet and slumbering, but Jessira sensed a watchful wariness, a sense of danger that emanated as surely as madness had once curled off the Sorrow Bringer, the defeated false deity of their world.
Jessira focused harder on the barracks, searching out the truth of what bothered her. A moment later she tsked in frustration. She couldn’t tell if her sense of danger was inspired by her instincts or her nerves.
