The Chronicles of William Wilde Boxset 1

by Davis Ashura

  The Servitor raised a shield of air and a pulsing film of water.

  The fireball impacted. Steam hissed. Thunder rumbled. The world seemed to stop. The fireball appeared frozen in time.

  The pause ended. Rukh’s fireball concussed into the Servitor and sent him crashing into the ground.

  “Get through the anchor line,” Rukh ordered Serena, his voice flat and emotionless.

  Serena startled. The way to freedom stood clear. “Go!” She shouted to Mr. Zeus and Fiona.

  “But—” the old man began.

  “Do it!”

  The Servitor’s face twisted into consternation.

  Fiona and Mr. Zeus hustled through the anchor line. The Servitor hurled a bolt of lightning at them, but Rukh stood in its path. His invisible shield crackled with green webbing and defended against the Servitor’s blow.

  Mr. Zeus and Fiona fled through the rainbow bridge, and Serena breathed out a sigh of relief.

  “They might have escaped, but you won’t!” the Servitor promised. The window to the rainbow bridge constricted.

  “No!” Serena cried out. She gritted her teeth and dug at the lock again. There! The lock blistered and broke. Serena sourced her lorethasra and healed the wound on her side.

  The Servitor twirled his Spear and slammed the butt into the ground. “You will not live to see another day.”

  A lance of lightning sent by Jessira knocked the Servitor’s Spear from his hands. It tumbled midway between Serena and her father.

  The Servitor dove for the Spear. Serena did as well. He reached it a split second before her. She rose to her feet while her father’s hands curled around his weapon.

  She stabbed at him with her jian.

  The Servitor blocked. A swing of his Spear forced her to withdraw. The Servitor rose to his feet, and she gave way further.

  The anchor line began shrinking again, but not before Travail leapt through.

  Rukh reached the Servitor in a blur.

  While the Servitor blocked cuts and thrusts, the anchor line stabilized. Serena wondered why her father didn’t close it. Maybe it was because every time he tried, he had to focus on his protection.

  She continued to watch the battle, unsure how she could help. The combatants moved too swiftly for her to be of use.

  Jessira trailed on Rukh’s heels, and the two of them blazed forth like arrows.

  The Servitor blocked their blows, calmly giving ground, blocking the attacks with his spinning Spear. He parried and deflected thrusts, slashes, and cuts. One blow nearly penetrated his defenses, and he leapt back, his jump covering twenty feet.

  Fire surged down the length of Shet’s Spear. It erupted from the tip, straight at charging Rukh.

  Rukh bent backward at the waist. He slid forward on his knees, the back of his head dragging an inch off the ground. He snapped upright. A cobra-fast strike sliced into the outside of the Servitor’s thigh.

  The Servitor snarled wordlessly. Blood dripped from his wound.

  Jessira slashed and cut deeply into the Servitor’s side.

  The Servitor hunched in pain, and leapt away once more. After landing, he attempted to heal himself with his ocean-deep lorethasra.

  Serena attacked before he could fully do so. From her hands roared a wall of fire.

  The Servitor glanced her way. Serena shouted in fury when another lock settled upon her. Damn it!

  William reentered the battle. His sword glowed once more. From it erupted a blistering spear of fire.

  Serena cast about, desperate to find a way to help. Her gaze fell upon a bow and sheaf of arrows next to the body of a fallen mahavan. She seized the weapons, quickly strung the bow, nocked an arrow, and waited for her moment.

  The Servitor leapt away from Rukh, Jessira, and William. Her father’s back was to her.

  Serena let the arrow fly.

  The Servitor must have sensed its whistling flight because he spun about. He blocked the arrow with Shet’s Spear. Before he could recover, Rukh launched inside his guard. A flying knee to the ribs sent the Servitor stumbling back.

  “Get through the anchor line,” Jessira ordered.

  Serena didn’t need to be told twice. She dashed for it, but William made it there first. He jumped through, and Serena followed. Her body stretched to snapping, but she embraced the pain. Freedom lay on the other side of the suffering.

  “Good Lord,” Daniel said. He’d been standing no more than ten feet away when Dalton immolated, and some of the fire must have caught him. Soot covered his face. His hair stood out in singed, uneven lengths. He stared at Jake through blood-shot eyes filled with horror.

  “He’s the one who enslaved me and William,” Jake said, trying to explain his actions. “I had to kill him.”

  Daniel shook his head.

  Anger at his friend’s refusal to understand burned within Jake. “Forget it,” he said. “We still have a fight to win.”

  Daniel appeared on the verge of saying something.

  Jake’s eyes widened. Someone large loomed behind Daniel, an indistinct figure rising out of the smoke and clouds of dirt.

  A mahavan.

  Jake shouted a warning.

  The features of the mahavan became clear. Adam Paradiso. His sword rose. Daniel spun around. He lifted his arms to ward off the blow.

  “I’m sorry,” Jake heard Adam say.

  Jake pushed Daniel out of the way. Adam’s sword thrust forward. Jake’s eyes widened. The blade quivered as it thrust forward. Raindrops glanced off its tip, dripping off its edge, and guard.

  Pain speared through Jake’s chest.

  William exited the anchor line and entered chaos.

  He’d escaped one battle and found himself in another.

  Braids of fire roared across the sky. Superheated air punched through embankments of earth. Lines of water exploded into steam, and the world shook, rumbling with staccato blasts of thunder. The smell of ash and blood smoked the air.

  William held his sword at the ready. It no longer glowed, and he couldn’t rightly figure out how he’d set it alight to begin with.

  Serena exited the anchor line and cursed on arriving. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Look out!” William pulled Serena down on top of him. A line of fire roared overhead, inches from where her head had been.

  Serena rolled off. “Where are our people?”

  William had no idea. He could barely hear her over the tumult. He quickly looked around. There! “Fiona and Mr. Zeus.” He pointed.

  The two older asrasins fought back-to-back against three opponents, moving spryly despite their age, and holding their own.

  “There’s Travail.” Serena said.

  He still had his large branch and swung it about, barely keeping the mahavans at a distance. William saw four mahavans face off against Daniel and Jason. His friends fell back. A mask of blood covered Jason’s face.

  William’s jaw clenched. “Attack on my mark. You’ll know when.”

  He wove Air and vaulted upward. At the apex of his leap, he yanked his arms to the side. A four-foot wide trench ripped open. It extended dozens of yards. One of the mahavans attacking Jason and Daniel tumbled into it.

  The other three spun about. They saw William and gestured. Serena unleashed a fist of air and a line of fire. Her attack caught another mahavan. He screamed. The other two fled before regrouping behind an old, white bus.

  Three more mahavans charged at William and Serena from only a dozen yards away. William drained the lorasra around him—he should have done it sooner—and waited in anticipation.

  The mahavans showed no sign of being affected.

  Nomasras.

  William readied braids of Earth and Fire. He lifted a boulder and accelerated it like a rifle shot. A mahavan crossed her arms. A cross of fire shot out and split the stone in half. Another mahavan caught the two pieces of rock and redirected them at Travail.

  The troll saw them at the last second and ducked the one aimed at his head. He
couldn’t evade the other. He grunted in pain when it struck him in the shoulder. The tree limb tumbled from his grasp.

  Serena did a front roll and came up with a handful of dirt and mud. She hurled it at the mahavans. William ripped up more dirt. He and Serena formed a muddy funnel cloud. It wouldn’t hurt the mahavans, but it would splatter across their faces and obscure their vision.

  While the mahavans wiped at their eyes, William and Serena used the momentary respite to retreat toward where they’d last seen Jason and Daniel.

  William startled when he heard a crack like snapping wood, followed by a high-pitched scream and an enraged “Goddammit!”

  Lien.

  He searched across the battlefield and found her huddled fifteen feet away. She clutched an obviously broken arm, appearing more furious than in pain.

  “Where’s Mr. and Mrs. Karllson?” Serena asked.

  “There.” Lien pointed at a set of earthenworks with her good arm. “Mrs. Karllson’s knocked out. It’s only him. He won’t leave her side.”

  William thought quickly. “Get to Mr. Zeus and the old woman he’s with. Join up with Travail, the troll. The four of you need to link up with Mr. Karllson.”

  “There’s too many mahavans,” Lien said. “We can’t hold much longer.”

  “We don’t have to,” William told her. “All of us made it through the anchor line.”

  “Except for Rukh and Jessira,” Serena reminded him.

  “They’ll make it,” William said, praying his confident sounding words would become the truth. “We’ve got our own battle to deal with until they do.” He gestured to Lien. “Go!”

  She nodded before sprinting to Mr. Zeus and Fiona, who fought nearby. She moved awkwardly with her broken arm clutched to her side.

  “We need to join with Daniel, Jason, and Jake,” William told Serena.

  “Too late,” Serena said. She pointed.

  Daniel was down. Adam Paradiso had his sword ready. Four mahavans flanked him. Jason stood alone against them.

  “Shit!”

  The anchor line whined, a screeching sound like grinding metal. William had never heard one make a noise like that. Apparently, no one had. Both sets of combatants paused.

  The keening increased, and the anchor line distorted. The rainbow bridge flickered momentarily before regaining coherence. It flickered again. The colors brightened. Faded and brightened before stabilizing. The doorway bulged, stretching like a balloon before snapping open with a thundercrack and disgorging Rukh and Jessira.

  William broke into a relieved grin. The odds had shifted in their favor.

  Rukh and Jessira surveyed the scene with faces devoid of emotion. Shockingly, they sheathed their swords before blazing into motion.

  Three mahavans fell to Rukh’s fists or kicks before the others could even ready themselves. Then he and Jessira paused their attack.

  The other mahavans retreated from William and his friends, withdrawing into a single, condensed cluster. Eight of them.

  Serena’s Isha stood at their head. He glared defiantly at Rukh and Jessira.

  “You are Adam Paradiso,” Rukh stated, his voice inflectionless and mechanical. “You are deemed the finest warrior on Sinskrill, yet we both know you cannot survive us. We already defeated you once. Retreat to Sinskrill.”

  Adam sneered. “We have our lorethasra this time. And when the Servitor comes—”

  “The Servitor is defeated,” Jessira said, her voice every bit as emotionless as Rukh’s.

  “No,” Adam whispered. His face drained into a rictus of disbelief.

  Rukh exploded forward. This time four mahavans fell. William blinked. What the hell had happened?

  Jessira launched. Two more mahavans fell. This time William could follow her movements. Jessira had struck with a straight left to the temple and a spinning kick to the liver.

  “Peace!” Adam shouted. He dropped his sword and held up his hands in surrender.

  Rukh nodded, and life returned to his features. Anger suffused his face. “I won’t kill you, and peace you shall have. Go back to Sinskrill and never return.”

  “Our wounded?”

  “Take them,” Rukh snapped. “Gather them up. Heal them after you transfer to your home. Go!”

  Adam gave a stiff bow. He and the still-standing mahavans helped their fallen brethren to their feet. They didn’t bother with their dead. They gathered near the anchor line, and a groaning, limping line of Sinskrill’s warriors shuffled through the rainbow doorway.

  Adam paused to face them at the anchor line’s threshold. “You were victorious today,” he said, “but in the next battle my mahavans will fight on grounds of our choosing, and under our conditions.”

  Rukh offered the man a faint smile. “For your sake, you better rethink your strategy. There is no ground and no conditions under which I won’t destroy you or your mahavans. Next time, I’ll kill you all.”

  Adam scowled before stepping onto the anchor line.

  The saha’asra fell quiet, and the enormity of what they’d done crashed down onto William. He shared a disbelieving look with Serena. They’d done it! Against all odds, they'd freed Travail and Fiona. He hugged Serena and whooped for joy.

  He spun about, ready to share his joy with the others. That’s when he saw Jake lying in the mud. A bloody wound marred his chest.

  AFTERMATH

  Serena’s gaze snapped to William. He’d shouted as if stricken. She couldn’t understand why. They’d won. What fresh disaster had occured?

  She quickly saw the reason.

  Jake lay on his back—still, unmoving, and with his eyes closed. Even from a distance, she could tell his face held an ashen cast.

  Despite the fact that William stood closer, Rukh and Jessira reached Jake first. Serena followed on their heels. The others quickly arrived as well.

  “Hold his arms,” Jessira ordered.

  Rukh did as she commanded.

  “His legs, too.”

  William seized Jake’s ankles.

  Serena stood to the side, unsure what was happening.

  Jake was dead. His chest didn’t move. His mouth gaped. Blood soaked his torso and thighs. The rest of him was covered in dirt and mud. A two-inch, scalpel-smooth wound ruined his chest. No one survived that kind of injury. Even the physicians of the Far Beyond couldn’t have healed him.

  “Hold his head,” Jessira said to Jason.

  “What are you doing?” Jason said. “He’s already gone.”

  “Hold his head!” Rukh snapped at him.

  Serena reached a decision. If Rukh and Jessira thought something more could be done for Jake, she would help. She knelt and clenched Jake’s head between her knees.

  “Do you need my Jivatma?” Rukh asked Jessira.

  “Later,” she said.

  “He’s dead,” Jason repeated. Serena noticed his fists clench. “Leave him alone.”

  Mr. Karllson limped toward them, cradling an unconscious Daniel in his arms. Guilt crawled across his ashen face. “He took the blow meant for Daniel.”

  Serena stared at Daniel. “Is he—?”

  “Only unconscious,” Mrs. Karllson answered. Blood caked on her face from a long cut on her forehead.

  Travail hovered in the background. The troll knelt on the ground and moaned, a rumbling sound deep enough to vibrate Serena’s stomach.

  “Whoever’s making that noise needs to stop,” Rukh growled.

  “What are you doing?” Mr. Zeus asked.

  “Trying to save Jake,” Rukh replied.

  “Can he truly be saved?” Fiona asked. She stood alongside Mr. Zeus, her face full of grief.

  She received no answer.

  Jessira placed her hands on Jake’s chest. She met the gaze of everyone holding Jake. “He’s going to jerk. Don’t let him.” A golden glow filled Jessira’s hands.

  Serena squinted against the brightness.

  “Get ready,” Jessira warned them.

  Thin streams of lightning coursed out
of her hands. They flickered across Jake’s torso, seemingly sucked into him.

  A second later, Jake spasmed. His entire body contracted, as if every muscle strained at once. He thrashed about as if caught in a seizure. Serena struggled to keep Jake’s head from flailing around. His jaw clenched and unclenched spasmodically.

  An instant later, Jake flopped bonelessly and went still. His mouth fell open.

  Serena was certain he was dead, but Jake took a shallow breath.

  “The major vessels aren’t bleeding any more,” Jessira said, her tone clinical. Her gaze grew distant, as if she could peer into Jake and see through his skin.

  “You missed one,” Rukh noted, his eyes bearing a similar, strange cast.

  Could they actually see into Jake’s body?

  “It’s a small one,” Jessira said. “I’ll get it later. We need to clear his lungs.”

  “They’re full of blood,” Rukh said.

  Jessira shook her head. “No. They’re compressed by blood.”

  Jake’s face had transitioned from ashen to blue.

  Rukh produced a needle-thin knife and slid it into Jake’s chest.

  Serena’s eyes widened in horror.

  “What the hell are you doing?” William shouted.

  Rukh didn’t reply. He withdrew the knife and pressed his hands over the new wound he’d created. It barely bled. Rukh’s hands glowed golden.

  Serena quickly unstrapped her belt and slipped it between Jake’s teeth. It would prevent him from biting off his tongue from what she suspected was coming.

  A moment later, lightning spilled from Rukh's hands.

  Once again, Jake jerked and shook like a puppet caught in a storm. Serena maintained her belt between his teeth and gripped his head in the vice of her legs. Blood poured from the wound Rukh had inflicted in Jake’s chest.

  “You’re torturing him!” Jason shouted.

  “His heart couldn’t pump,” Rukh said. “Too much blood in the pericardial sac.”

  Jessira nodded. “Good thinking.”

  Serena watched them work, increasingly confused. What the hell were they doing, cutting into Jake with knives? How would this save him? Or was it like Jason said, torture?