by Davis Ashura
Evelyn’s jaw clenched in a mulish scowl. “Well, now it’s too late to find out if they’re as powerful as you fear,” she muttered. “They’re leaving.”
“Which is fine as far as I’m concerned,” Brandon said. “We’re only here to observe and learn, remember?”
“We’ve been here for two weeks,” Evelyn said. “We’ve learned all we can of this valley. What more is there to know?”
“Their capital, the village of Lilith. We haven’t yet scouted it,” Brandon said. “We need another two or three weeks to fully learn what he came for.”
“Then what?”
Now it was Brandon who frowned in confusion. “Then our pilgrimage will be complete,” he answered. “What else?”
Samuel slithered near and whispered to Brandon. “For a moment I was afraid you’d order us to attack them.”
Brandon shook his head. “I won’t risk our pilgrimage on behalf of a vendetta,” he replied. “When we’re done here, we’ll dream a call to Deathbringer, sail home, and report to the Servitor.”
Preeti shifted closer. “All of this would have been a lot easier if we’d thought to bring satellite phones. We could have been in constant communication with Sinskrill if we had.”
Brandon nodded. A mistake they would rectify the next time they came to Arylyn.
Evelyn still wore an unhappy scowl but apparently for a different reason. “We should let the magi know we were here.”
Brandon’s mouth curled in anger. “We will do no such thing,” he hissed. “We came to scout and learn. That is all.” He wondered anew why the Secondus had ordered Evelyn’s inclusion on this pilgrimage. “The less the magi know about our presence, the better.”
Evelyn nodded, but Brandon didn’t miss the way her hair floated about her face. He silently cursed. He’d have to watch her and make sure the idiot didn’t do something foolish.
William’s brow creased as he tried to focus on the text he held in his hand, The Intervention. The book, dry as three-day-old baked chicken and written in a convoluted fashion, supposedly described the founding of Arylyn. So far, William had made it to page three—on five separate occasions. After that, his eyes began to swim, his thoughts wandered, usually to kissing Serena again, and whatever he’d read only minutes earlier melted from his mind.
One blessing was that his frustration with the impossible-to-decipher book hadn’t triggered his anger. The beast remained quiescent. No glowing, red eyes or growls ready to erupt at a moment’s notice from the depths of his thoughts.
Mr. Zeus cleared his throat, his head bent as he puffed steadily on his pipe while reading a book of poetry. The westering sun beamed through the tall, mullioned windows bracketing the desk where he sat. The cozy smell of old paper and pipe smoke permeated the study. They had the house to themselves since Jason was at the library studying up on anchor lines, and Jake was with Afa, trying to master the anger-easing weave the old raha’asra had placed on William.
Just then one of Mr. Zeus’ infernal roosters chose to crow. William leaned forward in his chair, trying to spot the stupid bird. He considered weaving a braid of Fire and roasting the rooster. He hated them, always waking him up at dawn. I wonder what one of them would taste like fried.
After a few seconds, William gave up his search for the rooster and returned with a sigh to the open book on his lap. Time to give The Intervention another go.
“Why don’t you try something else?” Mr. Zeus asked without bothering to lift his gaze.
“I don’t like to lose.”
Mr. Zeus glanced up at that. “You think it’s a contest between you and the book?” He snorted in eloquent dismissal before returning to his poetry.
William stared out the window and wished he could chuck The Intervention into the ocean and go have some fun. After a few seconds, he shook his head. Duty required obedience. It was something Rukh talked about. He bent his head and went back to reading the dry history text.
This time he managed to make it to page four, but his concentration broke when Jason stomped inside and called a loud “Hello.” He pushed into the study and flopped into a chair, visibly exhausted and annoyed.
“What’s your problem?” William asked.
Jason rubbed his temples. “I was doing what you asked,” he said. “Reading up on anchor lines. You have any idea how boring that is?”
William glanced at The Intervention. “I think I have an idea.”
“Ugh.” Jason continued to rub his temples. “I’ve been studying my ass off, and now I’ve got a headache.”
William burst out laughing. Even Mr. Zeus’s mouth curled into a smile and he made suspicious coughing sounds into his fist.
Jason flicked his eyes from one of them to the other. “What did I say?”
William never had a chance to answer because Serena barged into the house. Fear pinched her features. “We need to get to Clifftop,” she said, sounding breathless. “All of us. Rukh says he needs our help.”
William’s hackles rose, and he rose to his feet. What could be so bad that Rukh needs our help or would make Serena afraid? A terrifying notion occurred to him and his eyes widened in alarm. “Have the mahavans come?”
Serena shook her head. “No. Someone’s been murdered.”
INCURSION CONFIRMED
June 1990
* * *
William gaped.
“Murdered?” Mr. Zeus breathed out the word as if it made no sense.
Serena cleared her throat. “We have to go.”
William was the first one out the door, and the others scrambled after him. They trotted up the stairs, and Mr. Zeus huffed as he struggled to keep up. William brought them to a halt and stared down at the older man. He stood several stairs below with hands on his knees and his face red.
William took a step toward him. “We can—”
Mr. Zeus waved him away. “I only need to take it slower,” he said. “I’m fine. Go on. I’ll get there.”
William flicked worried eyes at Jason.
“I’ll stay with him,” Jason assured them. “You go.”
Mr. Zeus protested, but Jason shushed him.
William took a moment more to make sure Mr. Zeus was fine before once again ascending the stairs. His heart pounded with adrenaline and fear as he approached Clifftop.
This evening remained no different than any other. The sky held a splash of reds and oranges, and a cool breeze blew off the aqua-blue ocean. The perfumed aromas of a hundred different flowers mingled with the mineral-fresh scent of River Namaste’s cataracts pounding down the falls, but the world had changed. Someone had been murdered. Who, though? He should have learned beforehand.
“Who was it?” he asked Serena.
“Jeff Coats.”
“The farmer?” William blurted. “How?”
“Someone cut his throat.”
They reached Clifftop, where a crowd had gathered on the Village Green, nearly as many as had been present for the Chinese New Year’s celebration. Only this time, they weren’t celebrating. People shuffled about, speaking in hushed tones of fear and shock.
William followed Serena to the bicycle rack, and they hopped aboard their bikes once they were free of the crowd.
“Where are we going?” William asked.
“The enrune fields,” Serena answered. “Jeff’s body washed ashore there.”
William’s gaze went to hers. “What do you mean?”
“That’s where he was pulled out of River Namaste.”
William grunted. “Meaning he was murdered somewhere else,” he said. “Did Rukh say why he wanted us?”
Serena shook her head, and they pedaled in silence.
William had a million more questions, but they’d have to wait until they reached Rukh.
They swiftly reached the enrune fields but no one was around. No one was playing.
William stared about. “Where are Rukh and Jessira?”
“I don’t know,” Serena said. “Jeff’s body was right her
e.”
“Maybe they moved it?” William guessed.
Serena pointed to people crossing Lakshman’s Bow. “Or maybe the real murder took place wherever those people are going.”
It made sense. William led them across the bridge, and they pedaled hard. Their bicycles wide wheels smoothed out some of the rough pavement of Sita’s Song, but an occasional rut still made the swift ride teeth-jarring.
They quickly passed the pedestrians, rose and descended a shallow hill, and swept by the field where they trained with the Irregulars. They reached Janaki Valley. For once, its beauty didn’t capture William’s attention. Someone had been murdered. He still couldn’t come to grips with it.
At a long turn where Sita’s Song bent toward the river, they reached their destination. Tall reeds grew along the bank here, and the land sloped down to the water. William readily identified Rukh and Jessira and the entire village council standing near the river. A number of farmers had set up a perimeter, a rough barricade of wood and wagons to keep the curious from approaching too closely.
William dismounted his bicycle.
“Let them in,” Rukh shouted to the farmers blocking the passage.
Sile Troy ushered them through.
Rukh and Jessira stood near a puddled patch of red with more scattering swatches surrounding it. Only a few feet away, River Namaste flowed sedately, uncaring of the violence done so close to its waters.
William’s gorge rose as he approached and realized what the redness meant. He swallowed heavily and tried to breathe past the overwhelming stench of blood that filled the air.
“Is this where Jeff was murdered?” Serena asked. Her voice was steady and clear, and no sense of horror marred her features. William shot her a questioning glance. Serena had a drone-flat affect. Maybe the murder did bother her.
“This is where Jeff Coats met his demise,” Rukh confirmed, pointing to a clump of torn-up reeds. “He wasn’t taken unawares, though. He fought. He might have even injured his enemy.”
Bar Duba startled. “Enemy? How do we know this wasn’t a crime of passion?”
Jessira answered. “Are throats often slit in crimes of passion?” she asked. “Or the victim's eyes removed?”
Bar Duba appeared shaken. “No. I suppose not.”
Jessira nodded. “Then, no, it wasn’t a crime of passion. Jeff’s murder was a message. Someone wanted us to know that it was done deliberately.”
“Do you know how many people attacked Jeff?” Mayor Care asked.
“One,” Rukh answered. “He fought a single enemy, likely a woman. I found boot marks. Based on the size and shape, I suspect they belong to a woman.”
“You’re sure?” Mayor Care pressed.
“I’m sure.”
William still had trouble ordering his thoughts. The smell of blood overwhelmed his senses, and a strange hunger growled in the recesses of his mind. In some ways, it resembled his recently rid anger. Fear flashed through him at the notion, and he took slow, steady breaths, trying to settle his emotions.
His attention returned to the here and now when Rukh addressed him. “I need you to examine the area and tell me what you find.”
“Me?” William asked in surprise. “Why?”
Jessira answered. “Because you’ve got the blood of a necrosed in you. They’re supposed to have an incredible sense of smell. We need that.” Any softness William might have imagined she possessed was gone. Instead, Jessira wore a coldly furious visage.
William nodded, although doubt filled his mind. He’d never noticed that his sense of smell was more acute than anyone else’s. Nevertheless, he did as Rukh and Jessira asked and breathed deeply.
The first sensation that came to him was that of blood. The smell of it suffused all his senses. He could almost imagine seeing it, hearing it, tasting it. The animal-like hunger he’d noticed earlier rumbled to life. It growled, and the sound and sensation of it was like the red-eyed anger but also different. The hunger wanted blood, and William figured it must be another part of the heritage of a necrosed. His fear of it faded somewhat when he recognized he could use it.
The hunger lifted William’s head, made him inhale more deeply. He tasted the air, searched for something beyond the blood. He paused at where the blood pooled thickest, but the hunger carried his footsteps past it. He tracked back and forth, not sure where he was going but listening closely to the growling desire.
“What are you doing?” Serena asked.
“I don’t know,” William said, “but there’s this sensation in me. It wants something.”
“Something from the necrosed?” Jessira asked.
“I think so,” William said. “Now be quiet, I’m trying to listen or smell or whatever.”
He circled around a boggy stretch of reeds and detritus. The hunger wanted something here. William squatted, and his sandals squished in the mud and muck. Within the tall grass, the hunger seemed to whisper in a harsh tone. A flash of light in the dimming day caught his attention.
William reached for whatever had shone and discovered a long knife, a dagger with a horsehead pommel, partially sunk in the mud. He pulled it free. Despite the muck covering it, he could smell the blood upon it—Jeff’s blood. His mouth went dry. He knew where this knife had come from.
Rukh and Jessira stepped closer. Serena did, too. They all studied the blade.
“Do you recognize it?” Rukh asked.
“It’s from Sinskrill,” William said. His heart raced. The mahavans are here.
“You’re sure?” Jessira asked.
“It’s from Sinskrill,” Serena confirmed.
Mayor Care, who had also followed, gasped in fear. “Heaven save us.”
Serena leaned in toward the knife and peered closely. “I think there’s a . . .” She trailed off and plucked something off the handle, a strand of auburn hair.
“What’s that?” Mayor Care asked.
Serena straightened, wearing a furious scowl. “It belongs to the mahavan who killed Jeff Coats. I know her.”
Evelyn Mason.
The name echoed in Serena’s mind, and a rushing sound filled her ears. Vertigo stole her balance. Sinskrill has found me. She swayed like one of the reeds along the riverbank, caught in the tug of an unseen force that threatened to spill her onto the ground.
Evelyn Mason.
The mahavans knew Arylyn’s location, and who knew how long they’d been spying on the people here. What information had they learned? What plans had they developed? Were they still on the island? And if they had left, when would they return?
Serena started when William gripped her shoulders. He stooped and brought himself to eye level with her. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Dusk had fallen. Serena couldn’t easily see his features, but she could hear the concern in his voice. She stared into his eyes, but her thoughts remained elsewhere as she tried to answer his question. She realized she didn’t know how to respond. Sinskrill had found them. The mahavans had watched them. They threatened the wonderful life Serena had built for herself and Selene.
The moment she recalled her sister, Serena snarled. No one will harm Selene.
“Serena?” William said.
Serena’s resolve firmed and so did her spine. She leaned on her mahavan training and hardened her heart, allowing nothing to touch her, no fear, no anger, no uncertainty. She would do whatever was needed to keep her family safe. She pushed back the fear.
“I’m fine,” she said to William.
Rukh stepped closer to them. Even in the rapidly encroaching darkness Serena could sense the sorrow on his face. “There’s nothing more for you two here,” he said. “The council can handle the rest.”
“Yes, sir,” William said. He reached for the crook of Serena’s arm and gently urged her away from the riverbank.
She let him lead her away and glanced to where Mayor Care and the council clustered near Jessira like worried hens. They spoke in hushed tones. With the fall of night only minutes away,
Serena couldn’t make out their features, but she imagined they all wore expressions of fear and worry. She also saw that Jessira still held the dagger William had found.
For a few moments Serena had forgotten the smell of fresh-spilled blood, but with the reminder of the blade, she noticed it once more. It filled the air, and she stared at the pool of red, gone black now under the falling light, where poor Jeff Coats had died.
Serena’s jaw clenched again, and anger took the place of worry. Evelyn will pay for what she’s done. “Let’s go.” She jerked her arm free of William’s hand and pushed out of the reeds.
William trailed her. She heard him say something to Rukh before jogging to catch up with her.
By the time he reached her, Serena had reached their bicycles. They mounted up, and with darkness full upon them, they each braided a weave of Fire and Air, creating cool, silvery flames that bobbed in the air ahead of them to light the road back to Lilith.
Serena fumed the entire way in grim determination. No one and nothing will hurt me or my family.
They passed a few last stragglers heading toward the murder scene, and Serena scoffed at them. With night falling they’d see nothing.
“What do you think will happen now?” William asked.
Serena didn’t want to discuss it. “Let’s talk about it later.” She immediately winced at the harshness of her tone.
William thankfully disregarded her rudeness and merely muttered acknowledgment.
They traveled in silence. The only sounds came from the chirping of crickets and other insects and the droning of their bicycle tires. They were soon rattling over the knobby surface of Lakshman’s Bow and across the enrune fields. They reached Clifftop, and Serena let the silvery light dissipate. She no longer needed it with the streetlights turned on.
Small groups of people still clustered along Lilith’s streets. Everyone wore somber, distraught, and even fearful casts to their features. As they approached the Village Green the streets grew more crowded, and they had to dismount their bikes and walk them to the bicycle rack.
