William Wilde and the Sons of Deceit

by Davis Ashura

  As if to punctuate the thought, another gust blew, and icy spray splashed across Brandon’s face, raising a scowl.

  His vague, seductive thoughts about Arylyn ended when Justin Cardinal approached. The man had once been a drone foreman, but he’d raised his hands against William and Jake, men who possessed a higher station as raha’asras. The man’s offense had cost him, and Justin had been cast down. The punishment could have been much more severe, including death, but Shet’s mercy—Brandon snorted at the ridiculous thought—as elucidated by the Servitor had instead seen the former foreman removed from his position of power.

  However, after Arylyn’s raid against Sinskrill last year, many of those who previously failed their Temperings were cleansed of their strippings and provided with something unprecedented in all of Sinskrill’s long history, a second chance. Justin had passed his second Tempering and survived and thrived in his training as a shill and later as a bishan. Soon after, the Servitor had granted him the rank of mahavan.

  Brandon bristled over this. To become a mahavan was no easy task. It was a hard-won title, a proud honorific, but with the once-drones now accorded the same name, it somehow felt sullied and less worthy.

  “We’re almost ready to set off,” said Justin.

  Brandon glanced at the deck, where a few last pieces of equipment and supplies were being loaded into the hold. He grunted acknowledgment to Justin. “Understood. As soon as the Servitor boards we’ll get underway. Make sure the men on the oars are ready. We’ll want to row hard and catch the natural wind as soon as possible.” As a true sailing vessel, Demolition needed some muscle to get underway, but afterward only the wind or the Servitor’s power.

  “Yes, sir.” Justin snapped off a sharp salute, pivoted and began shouting orders.

  Brandon leaned on the railing and gazed at the other ships of the fleet. The rest were sleek, modern vessels with powerful engines to carry them forth—no oars needed for them—and all had hulls recently painted the same dark blue, even Demolition. While the Servitor’s ship was typically black-hulled, this one time they’d changed it. They needed it to better blend with the water surrounding Arylyn.

  Brandon’s head rose when he sighted the Servitor marching through the streets of Village White Sun. He wore a gray shirt, white leather pants, and a black-sheathed longsword strapped to his hip.

  Adam Paradiso, the Secondus, paced alongside the Servitor and wore his typical brown, leather garb of practical design. The two men had their heads bent close to one another.

  Brandon didn’t bother trying to listen in. As a Walker, he could have eavesdropped on anyone, but the Servitor and Adam always shielded their conversations with bubbles of Air.

  Adam gave a sharp nod before breaking away from the Servitor and headed toward Deathbringer, his own ship.

  Brandon straightened to his full height when the Servitor approached Demolition. Sinskrill’s ruler marched across the gangplank, and Brandon moved to greet him.

  “Welcome aboard, my liege,” he said once the Servitor came aboard Demolition. “A good day to sail, is it not?”

  He kept from stiffening by the barest of margins. What foolishness! Speaking to Servitor in such an overly familiar tone.

  The Servitor eyed him in confusion. “How so?” he asked, gesturing to the miserable weather.

  Brandon’s heart pounded, but he managed a smile despite having to continue with what he hoped wasn’t a terrible mistake. “The rain is a constant, but I like to think of it as Sinskrill’s way of blessing us on our endeavor.” He held his breath, hoping, praying—he wasn’t sure to whom—that the Servitor would take the words as the light-hearted joke they were intended to be.

  The moment stretched until suddenly the Servitor barked laughter. “So it is. At your command we will leave and meet our destiny!”

  Brandon breathed relief and snapped off a salute. “Yes, my liege!” He faced the crew and bellowed orders. “Unship oars! Stroke count of twenty. I want us out of the harbor in five minutes. Pass the orders to the other ships. Have them start their engines and follow.”

  Oars were unshipped, a stroke count was picked up and kept by a drone with a drum, and they got underway.

  Brandon stared one last time at Village White Sun, at the fog, the drizzle, and the green, mist-shrouded hills. He wondered if he’d ever see his home again.

  A PEACEFUL INTERLUDE

  October 1990

  * * *

  Serena winced when Rukh barked instructions mere inches from her ear.

  “Rack your swords,” he shouted, pointing to a large, wooden tub at his feet, “and be back at three. We’ll take it up again then.”

  Rukh and Jessira had changed things up with today’s morning training session. Instead of having Red Team defend ‘Lilith’ against the Greens, they’d had the Irregulars sparring with wooden swords. Serena had done well—she expected no less since she’d trained with a blade since childhood—but others had not.

  Ward Silver, for one. He’d taken a blow to the ribs, one that still left him in obvious discomfort despite Jessira’s Healing, and he trundled alongside the rest of the Irregulars as they biked back to Lilith. He groaned. “I hate swords.”

  Many of the Irregulars shared his antipathy and rode quietly while others, such as Jake, Daniella, Jason, Lien, and Daniel, shared a boisterous conversation. They spoke loudly in order to be heard over the sound of the bicycle tires churning across the gray-white flagstones of Sita’s Song, and Serena listened with half an ear. Most of her thoughts, though, revolved upon one notion: cool shade.

  The hot, late-morning sun beamed upon all of them, and the air resembled a wet blanket. Another hot-spell lay upon Arylyn, and Serena longed for some blessed coolness. Thankfully, a downpour seemed to be in the offing. Gray clouds, heavy and pregnant, hung above the Triplets, and the wind already stirred. Occasional gusts swirled and some of them threatened to push Serena off her bicycle.

  She cursed when one particularly hard blow nearly sent her careening into William. “Sorry,” she muttered once she got her bicycle under control.

  “It’s all right,” William said, sounding distracted. He had a furrowed brow and his head tilted to the side as if listening to something.

  Serena grew curious. “What is it?”

  “Jake’s humming some song,” William answered. “I know what it is but I can’t place it. It’s right there, and . . .” An instant later his faced cleared, and he laughed. “You nerd,” he shouted at Jake.

  “What?” Jake asked. He tried to maintain an innocent, inquisitive cast to his face, but Serena wasn’t fooled. He knew what William was talking about.

  William apparently saw through Jake’s ruse as well. “I know what you’re humming over there, you dork. The Dukes of Hazzard.”

  Jake’s face fell while Jason guffawed. “You hick.”

  Lien took William’s words as a reason to start a game. “If we’re doing Guess the Theme Song, try this one.” She started singing in her warbling, off-key manner.

  Serena grinned. She’d never get tired of hearing Lien’s terrible singing.

  Jake’s face clouded with disbelief. “No way,” he said. “How’d you know The Misadventures of Sheriff Lobo?”

  Lien grinned. “It was on re-runs in Cincinnati.” She dropped her voice an octave. “The jungle cat is on the prowl.”

  “Who’s the jungle cat?” Daniel asked.

  “The sheriff’s fat deputy,” Lien answered.

  “How about this one?” William began quoting something about someone named Michael Knight.

  “Knight Rider,” Jason shouted an instant before Jake.

  Serena fell back, watching and listening to the others. She didn’t know many of these shows or references since her time in the Far Beyond had been relatively brief.

  Lien started another song.

  “BJ and the Bear,” Jason said. He shook his head at Lien. “How do you know the theme songs to all these old, goofy shows.”

  “Supr
eme talent,” Lien answered.

  “You mean supreme nerdiness,” Jason countered. “I think Daniel’s rubbed off on you.”

  “My turn,” Jake said. He sang in his passable tenor.

  William’s face clouded. “Why in the hell would you know the theme to Facts of Life? It’s about an all-girls boarding school.”

  Jake flushed, and his blush darkened when Daniella laughed and pinched him in the side. He eventually broke into an embarrassed chuckle.

  Serena smiled. She was glad to see Jake happy, that they all could still laugh the way they used to. The theme-song guessing game continued, and she glanced to the side when William drifted to ride alongside her.

  “He looks good laughing,” William said, indicating Jake.

  Serena agreed. “I’m glad he and Daniella are finally seeing each other. She’s good for him.” She pursed her lips. “Now we only need to find someone for Jason.”

  William’s face grew guarded. “I don’t think that will be nearly as easy.”

  Serena faced him. “Oh? Is this a secret, or am I allowed to know?”

  William wore an uncertain expression, and for a moment Serena didn’t think he’d answer her. “He never said to keep it private,” he began, “but I think he’d rather not have us gossiping about him.” He briefly eyed Jason. “Let’s just say he has trust issues because of his family.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. It was before your time, but early on he wasn’t entirely comfortable with me living with him and Mr. Zeus.”

  “Why is that?” Serena asked. Isha had often taught that the easiest way to learn information was by asking an open-ended question. Part of Serena felt guilty for using Isha’s training on William, but she was curious.

  “I’m not sure,” William said, “but he once said it felt like I was intruding on his space and stealing his grandfather’s time.” His mouth shut with a snap. “I’ve said enough.”

  “You hardly said anything,” Serena said.

  William changed the subject. “You know, I don’t get to see Selene as much I used to. How’s she doing? Other than being too busy to spend any time with me. I think the last time we talked was last week.”

  Serena smiled. “She’s fine. She’s grown much in the past year. She’s almost as tall as me now, and every inch of her is know-it-all attitude and drama on a pair of giraffe legs.” Serena shook her head ruefully. Dealing with a teenage girl and her moods. How did Isha tolerate me?

  “That bad?”

  Serena mock shuddered. “Be glad you aren’t the one raising her.”

  William chuckled, but a second later his head snapped toward Jason. The others were still playing the Guess the Theme Song game. “I know that one,” William shouted. “The Greatest American Hero! The best superhero show of all time.”

  “Only if you like dorky comedies,” Jake replied.

  “Says the guy who watched a show about an all-girls boarding school,” William retorted.

  “Try this one,” Daniel said.

  Serena pitied herself since she instantly knew the song and the show to which it belonged. “Star Blazers,” she said on hearing the first three words.

  Silence fell across the entire group, and Serena found herself the focus of everyone’s attention.

  Jason stared at her as if she’d grown an extra head. “How’d you know that?”

  “I wish I didn’t,” Serena replied, “but Daniel forced us to watch that inane show for movie night once.”

  “And you call me a nerd,” William said to Lien.

  Serena didn’t catch Lien’s reply since Daniella had drifted over to join her.

  “Tired of listening to them sing stuff no one else knows about?” Serena asked the other girl.

  Daniella grinned. “It is fun watching them have fun, though.”

  Serena smiled in agreement, and she couldn’t help but wonder how many more afternoons they’d have like this, silly times before Sinskrill came for them. Her eyes went to William and once more, she vowed that no harm would befall those she loved.

  “We should arrive soon, sir,” Brandon reported. “One day, maybe two at the most.”

  The Servitor nodded. A deep well of satisfaction rose within him as he viewed his fleet, the ships of his armada as they kept pace alongside Demolition. They would soon reach Arylyn and pay the magi back for their brazen attacks upon his home and his people. Did the people of Arylyn truly expect their assaults to go unpunished? That he would allow them to steal away his daughters as well as his new raha’asras, and follow that desecration by absconding with Fiona and Travail?

  Axel smirked. If the magi believed themselves immune to his retribution, then they were wrong, and he would instruct them in this lesson. He’d teach them in the most painful manner possible. He would demonstrate to them that their supposed immunity from his vengeance was merely a temporary aberration. They would have their insults repaid fully and in kind. Axel’s knuckles cracked as he unconsciously clenched his fists.

  His rising anger threatened to overcome his mahavan training, his control of his passions, and he took a settling breath, exhaling slowly. He wiped aside all signs of emotion from his features and his posture. Now was not the time for unleashed passion. Now was the time for clear thinking and planning.

  “Contact Adam’s ship,” he told Brandon in a tone he knew was drone-flat. “Let them know our status. We’ll co-ordinate the assault on Arylyn once I know all my warriors are in position.”

  The young mahavan saluted sharply. “Yes, my liege,” he said and moved off to do as he’d been ordered.

  Axel watched as Brandon departed. The mahavan had all the attributes of a good leader: cunning, forward thinking, willing to learn, and hard-working. It was a large part of the reason why Axel had insisted he serve aboard Demolition. The Servitor wished to view Brandon’s work from a more personal perspective. Yes, Adam could have used the man, but Axel needed to measure his true merit. Brandon could make a good Servitor if luck and fate allowed it.

  Axel eventually returned his gaze to the wide-open ocean all around him. Here in the south Pacific the waters contained a strange shade of blue, one that was quite different from the indigo around Sinskrill, or the more typical murky gray of the Norwegian Sea farther past the saha’asra’s borders. Even the spray had a different hue and texture. It splashed more lightly and didn’t cut like a set of icy blades as it did around Sinskrill. In fact, everything was different in these climes, and Axel reckoned it might as well exist on another world. The wind blew steady and warm rather than fitfully and frozen. The clouds gathered in thick, puffy patches of white rather than constant, gray sheets. The very air had an unusual odor. It remained briny, but rather than the harsh, mineral aroma of the Norwegian Sea, Axel noticed something else. He caught a fragrance on the warm wind, an undercurrent of living, green vegetation, perhaps from the abundant kelp.

  Of course the sun beat harder here. The Servitor hated that last part. He detested the heat, especially because he’d been forced to strip off his elegant cloak and heavy leathers in favor of lighter clothing.

  As they sailed on, Axel spied a small island rising from the surrounding sea. It contained a single broken peak that thrust like a crumbled pyramid from the wreath of a low-lying jungle. Jagged, stony shards spilled all around the mountain’s base, and a cloud possibly hung perpetually over the summit. In the waters near the island, the ocean transitioned from sky-blue to aqua-green.

  Axel watched the peak from Demolition’s deck and reflexively flexed his leg and hip muscles, maintaining his balance without consciously thinking about it. He continued to stare at the island as it passed to their stern and wondered at it. A broken mountain with jagged ruins at its base and a cloud hanging about the peak . . .

  He wondered if it might be an omen. The broken mountain representing himself, the jagged ruins, his mahavans, and the cloud as Shet. A troubling harbinger. He rubbed his chin in consideration.

  Brandon presented himself again,
interrupting his thoughts. “My liege, we’ve contacted the Secondus,” Brandon said. “He and his ships will break off in a few hours and make for the incursion zone. He’ll contact us prior to disembarking for Arylyn and again once he’s made his landing site secure.”

  “Wish him well,” Axel said. “Let him know Shet’s glory will carry him to victory.”

  “As it will all of us,” Brandon said, offering the proper response to Axel’s words.

  “Dismissed.”

  Brandon saluted once more and departed. After he did, Axel again viewed the island with its shattered peak. Could it truly be an omen?

  He decided to move away from his place at the railing. He no longer wished to see the troublesome isle. As he paced toward the bow of his ship, he recalled his brother’s persistent question, the one Adam had asked prior to their departure from Sinskrill. Would we not be better off allying with the magi and finding a way to deny Shet entrance to our world?

  As on preceding occasions, the question left Axel unsettled. Ally with their enemy? Madness.

  Yet a large part of him wished it could be otherwise. He didn’t enjoy death and punishment, but Arylyn’s attacks against Sinskrill left him with no choice in the situation. Their assaults had to be answered.

  The island with its broken mountain grew small, and Axel decided to set aside his worries.

  In the end, it didn’t matter. He was the Servitor, and no ill omen or worrisome questions would deny him his destiny.

  Serena had the afternoon off from training with the Irregulars and also from helping out at Sile’s farm. It didn’t happen very often, and she used her unexpected free time to go surfing. Jean-Paul met her at Lilith Bay. While the waves were softer here and less adventurous, especially in the summer, the beach was closer to her seaside cottage, which was always a plus. If they’d gone surfing elsewhere, she wouldn’t have been able to invite William to her home for dinner tonight.