The Cursed Crown

by Matthew S. Cox

  “There is a bit of truth in every exaggerated story.” Raesa grinned at them. “The stoneshapers draw power from the earth. Spiritcallers take energy from the wind upon their bodies.”

  That’s why… Kitlyn thought back to King Volduin and his wives all bare from the waist up. Could he be a spiritcaller as well as a bladeborn? Like I draw power from the earth.

  “Do the firecallers douse themselves in lamp oil?” Lem chuckled.

  Kitlyn smiled, as did Oona.

  “Not usually, but some do carry lamps.” Raesa loaded an arrow but didn’t draw it.

  Hand on her longsword, Kitlyn crept ahead, stepping between roots and around low-lying shrubs. A few paces later, a pile of disturbed ground became apparent to her eyes where her magical sight revealed the twisting passage plunging into the earth and continuing too far down for her to perceive the end.

  She approached, circling around a hole roughly two feet wide, ringed by a dirt mound like an enormous version of an anthill. The soldiers followed, splitting up to search the area. Raesa examined nearby trees and crouched to hunt for tracks. Oona hung back, wary.

  Kitlyn felt the weight of someone walking up behind her, along with the soft rattle of chain mail. She cast a brief glance back at Darrow, and relaxed. The tall man leaned forward to peer into the hole. Something down in the tunnel moved. Several somethings, racing toward the opening as fast as a person could run.

  “Look out!” shouted Kitlyn while hurling herself into a tackle.

  Alas, she hit him like a kid jumping onto a tree, barely moving him a half a step. Rather than knocking him flat, she wound up hanging on him. A Nimse burst out from the hole, its spherical head split nearly in half by an enormous gaping mouth filled with triangular razor teeth, which it sank into Darrow’s shoulder. All four of its clawed hands raked at his armor while it grunted and growled in a disturbing high-pitched voice.

  A second one came flying at Kitlyn’s face, but an arrow flew in from the left, spearing it in the head. The dead Nimse crashed like a limp rubber doll into her, its round black tongue lolling from between its teeth.

  Darrow screamed in pain, backpedaling as more Nimse spilled up out of the hole. The one attached to him flailed for a better grip, raking its claws over Kitlyn’s chest but failing to slice her armor. The swoosh-thump of a second arrow from Raesa somewhere behind her announced another dead Nimse. Kitlyn briefly considered trying to pry the thing off the man’s shoulder, but didn’t want to put her fingers anywhere near its mouth.

  She let go and dropped to her feet. Her hands glowed with green light as she called a pair of thick roots to shoot up from the earth and wrap around the Nimse’s head. Somewhere off to the right, a brilliant blue flash accompanied the pained wails of tiny inhuman voices. Soldiers roared battle cries.

  Darrow seized the creature on him by the wrists of its upper two arms, though it kept raking at him with its second pair as well as its legs, the same length as its arms. A gurgling noise came from it in response to the magical roots prying its mouth open. Lem, about fourteen yards away to the left, emitted a freakishly loud howl that muted to gurgling.

  Kitlyn spun, gasping at the sight of a Nimse tearing his throat out. She made a shoving gesture with one hand; a pointed spire of rock slammed up from the ground, launching the creature higher than the treetops. It landed some thirty feet away with a sickening crunch. Lem grabbed his throat and fell over.

  Snarling, Darrow pried the Nimse from his shoulder and hurled it to the ground. The magical roots pinned its ball-shaped head to the earth, holding it down while he recovered his sword from the mulch nearby and ran the creature through.

  Aleah, Burin, and Fortin stood back to back, holding off a group of ten or so Nimse. Kitlyn started to turn her attention to the crowd, but caught sight of another five surrounding Oona—and two more rushing out of the hole toward her.

  What’s going on? They’re not supposed to come out in the day!

  She leapt back, heading around Darrow toward Oona. He obligingly attempted to block the Nimse going for Kitlyn. One leapt for his face—but he punched it dead-on in the front of its spherical head and sent it flying. The other one ran over, snarling, and chomped him on the thigh.

  Oona called a brilliant column of white-blue light around herself. All five Nimse going for her screamed and cowered away, covering their eyes, tiny raisin-sized spots in the middle of their round faces where nostrils should be. They looked more like they’d gotten a whiff of something foul.

  The Nimse Darrow punched landed on its back a few feet away, bounced over onto its front, snarled, and scrambled right back at the man. Kitlyn reached a hand toward the ground. A potato-sized rock shrouded in glowing emerald light burst up from the soil, hung in midair for a second, then zoomed at the one biting Darrow’s leg. It smashed into the creature’s chest with a dull thump, flipping it onto its back, bloody teeth bared to the sky. The Nimse clawed at its side where the rock had undoubtedly broken several ribs. Darrow stepped into a swing that beheaded the one rushing at him.

  Raesa fired arrows rapidly into the group surrounding the three soldiers, who appeared so busy defending from attacks they couldn’t find a chance to strike back. The blazing column of blue light Oona summoned drove the Nimse back from her. Kitlyn took a step closer, thinking only of protecting her love, but her tactical mind got in the way of her heart. Oona didn’t appear to be in immediate danger, unlike the soldiers. She clenched her jaw and focused on the ground by the frenetic blur of blades and teeth. Serpents of emerald light emerged from the dirt by her feet, coiling up her legs, crisscrossed over her chest, and shot down her arms, gathering in her hands.

  Jagged stone spires erupted from the earth near the soldiers, throwing the small Nimse into the air, knocking them away two and three at a time. The ones menacing Oona shrieked in response to a brighter flash and scrambled back into the tunnel. Relieved that her love appeared safe, Kitlyn drew her longsword and headed for the remaining group, leaping over the hole to save a few seconds.

  Oona sent her little light ball zooming into the fray, its glow a brilliant white instead of the usual soft blue. The Nimse shrieked in agony and ran for the hole. Kitlyn raised her blade to cut one down, but somewhere between its terrified demeanor and childlike size, she couldn’t bring herself to slay it. It ran past her and dove headfirst into the tunnel. Aleah cut down one of the fleeing Nimse.

  In seconds, only one remained—the one with half its ribs smashed that still lay on the ground where it had fallen. Kitlyn approached it, pointing the tip of her blade at its tiny throat. The diminutive creature would’ve stood about three and a half feet tall if upright, its head a near-perfect sphere with two tiny eye dots where a human’s nostrils should be. Skin of dark charcoal grey let it blend into the stony surroundings of Underholm, though out here, it could only hide at night. Wicked little claws on its hands and feet possessed magical sharpness, as they’d cut a few chain links on her chest and easily scratched stone.

  However, this one appeared to lack any strength to fight on.

  “Why are you attacking us?” asked Kitlyn. “Can you understand me?”

  It kept looking at her, breathing in heavy rasps that made its chest swell and collapse over prominent ribs. Unfortunately, the mostly featureless surface of its ‘face’ couldn’t convey any sense of mood. Deep wrinkles crisscrossed its thick, grey skin, but it lacked eyebrows or true lips, its mouth opening little more than a wide slit.

  “Lem!” shouted one of the soldiers, running over to the man who’d had his neck ripped out.

  Kitlyn clenched her grip on the longsword, furious at herself that a man had died. I should’ve brought twenty, not five.

  A delicate hand grasped her wrist.

  She looked to her right at Oona, who shook her head.

  “It’s defenseless.”

  “A man is dead.” Kitlyn gestured at Darrow. “Another has deep wounds.”

  Oona kept pushing her sword arm down. “This one is already d
efeated.”

  Kitlyn glanced at the helpless Nimse on the ground at her feet. She thought back to the first one of those creatures she’d seen—and killed. It had hurled itself at her with manic ferocity and didn’t stop trying to bite her until she’d rammed a dagger into its chest. Still, she had felt guilty for doing it, more guilt in fact than she’d experienced at killing the soldiers who had held Oona prisoner.

  Bears do what bears do because they are bears. People can choose to kill or not. These creatures perhaps cannot help their nature. “All right.” Kitlyn lowered her blade and pointed at the hole. “Go.”

  The Nimse emitted a pitiful noise.

  Oona started to crouch over it, but Kitlyn pulled her back.

  “Don’t… It could hurt you.”

  “It’s all right. I think it knows I mean it no harm.” Oona waited for Kitlyn to let go of her shoulder, then crouched.

  “You’re not going to kill it?” asked Aleah. “One of those fiends killed Lem.”

  “During the war, did you make a habit of murdering Evermoor’s wounded after they surrendered?” Oona slid her hands under the creature.

  It gurgled in response.

  “Of course not.” Aleah eyed Raesa. “But they are people. These creatures are… umm… not people.”

  “It is still wrong to kill the defenseless.” Oona eased the wounded Nimse into the tunnel.

  Once headfirst in the opening, it clawed at the earth with its left arm and leg, dragging itself down out of sight with the help of gravity.

  Darrow helped Oona up and nodded at her. His acceptance of her act of mercy appeared to placate the others who gathered Lem up to carry him.

  “I will be a few minutes,” said Kitlyn. “I’m going to seal this tunnel.”

  “Highness.” Fortin shook his head, making his bushy beard wobble. “We cannot leave you alone out here.”

  “The Nimse are gone for now,” said Oona. “And I do not think they will be a threat anymore.”

  Kitlyn glanced at her. “While I adore your optimism, I think it will take more than one skirmish to make them stop their attacks.”

  “I mean we are safe from them.” Oona indicated her hovering orb, which bounced in midair as if pleased with itself. “They flee from Lucen’s light.”

  “Demons?” asked Darrow.

  Oona looked up at him. “No. Demons would have caught fire or disintegrated. These creatures live in complete darkness. The light blinds them, and I think they find it painful. While I do not enjoy causing them pain, better that than killing these creatures.”

  “I shall stay with them,” said Raesa.

  “Highness…” Darrow stepped closer. “You shouldn’t be without guards.”

  “Go. You need the attention of an Orien priest. Return to Crows’ Corner. Have your wounds tended as best they can here, then make your way to the temple at Eastmarch.” Kitlyn looked over at the dead man. “We shall bring Lem with us back to Cimril.”

  The soldiers appeared to accept Oona’s confidence that her light would provide an acceptable shield against more Nimse. They lifted Lem and carried him off into the woods. Raesa wandered around, recovering her arrows from fallen Nimse, and a few from the ground.

  Kitlyn stood at the edge of the tunnel, holding her arms out, palms down. She projected her magic into the earth, drawing stones of various size from the surrounding area and sending them tumbling into the dark. All the while she filled in the tunnel, she contemplated whether digging it had been difficult for the Nimse or if they could merely tunnel up again nearby. Covering the hole may well be pointless, but at least she would stop a child or villager from falling in.

  A while later, the pour of rocks built up into view. She doubted she had filled the entire depth of the tunnel, most likely, a curving bend somewhere had clogged. Still, she’d created a plug more than thirty feet deep. After liquefying the top stones and re-solidifying them into a single, solid mass, she stopped concentrating on her magic and the glowing green aura around her arms went out.

  Exhausted, Kitlyn swooned to her knees and sat back on her heels. “They won’t be coming back up this way.”

  “Are you all right?” Oona hurried over.

  “Yes. Just need a moment to catch my breath.” She looked up into her love’s beautiful blue eyes, her head framed in sunlit branches of green, brown, and gold. “It’s my fault.”

  “What?” Oona crouched.

  “Lem. I didn’t think the Nimse could be a threat in the day. Only asked for five soldiers. I should’ve brought twenty.”

  “None of us thought the Nimse would be a threat in the day.” Oona brushed a hand over Kitlyn’s hair.

  “I’ve never seen these creatures before.” Raesa poked a dead one with her boot. “They have such tiny eyes. But if they live in the dark, they probably rely more on hearing or even feeling vibrations. Forgive me for saying so, as it is not my place to counsel a queen, but I would not place the blame for that man’s death at your feet. These creatures are too much of an unknown. Until today, I had believed them a myth.”

  “You have my thanks, Raesa. And no, I do not mind hearing the counsel of those with wisdom to share. While I may be queen, I have not forgotten I am also young.”

  Raesa raised both eyebrows.

  “I’m not calling you old.” Kitlyn smiled. “Only myself lacking in experience. You have probably spent more time out of Evermoor than I have out of our castle.”

  “I find that difficult to believe. It’s only been about five days,” said Raesa.

  Oona smiled. “Well, we have been out of the castle more than she’s been away from Evermoor… but only by about another week or so.”

  Raesa opened her mouth to say something, but took on a somber expression and kept quiet.

  “The assassins aren’t your fault.” Kitlyn pushed herself up to stand. “I blame only my father.”

  “But, sending people to murder you as a child is a bit extreme, even for a kingdom facing total destruction.” Raesa wiped a bit of Nimse blood from her armor. “As much as I may have felt hatred toward Lucernians in the past, I would never have taken the life of a child.”

  “Even the one foretold to bring about your doom?” asked Kitlyn.

  “Only fools put total faith in prophecies.” Raesa glanced off in the direction of Crows’ Corner.

  Oona rolled her eyes. “I wish more people thought as you do. I hate foretellings.”

  “Let us return to town and think on what next to do.” Kitlyn glanced at the boots hanging off her belt, shrugged, and headed toward town.

  19

  Lifeblood

  Oona

  The oddest sense that the Nimse had intelligence beyond what their appearance suggested prickled at Oona’s thoughts. Being surrounded by them had reminded her of the highwaymen who’d attempted to rob her, so she had shrouded herself in a wall of searing light. The instant its glow fell on them, they went from menacing, devouring fiends to frightened little creatures.

  Perhaps Kitlyn is right and I am too nice. The Nimse would not have hesitated in tearing me to pieces.

  More so than those five, the injured one she had helped dwelled on her mind. Somehow, despite having no real way to make facial expressions, it had given off a sense of gratitude when she eased it into the tunnel. Kitlyn’s enchanted stone had hurt it to the point she questioned if it would survive. Certainly, those creatures didn’t visit temples of Orien, nor would bandages offer much help to a crushing injury.

  I am thinking in terms of people. Those Nimse may be quite a bit tougher than us. Oh, I wish I could understand why they are attacking us. For how long have they existed beneath the earth without anyone even knowing about them? Could someone have done something? Perhaps they think we attacked them?

  These thoughts plagued Oona as she walked beside Kitlyn across the forest, sometimes glancing down at her wife’s bare feet, alternatively cringing at the idea of being outside without shoes and grinning at the innocence of it. Of course, Oona adore
d walking barefoot in the grass, but a curated garden in the castle was quite a bit different from being outside. Much the same way as she had gotten over her fear of being naked around Kitlyn in private but wouldn’t dare show even bare shoulders in public.

  Raesa stopped short, raising her bow. “Someone’s—”

  Kitlyn spun toward Oona and shoved her hard with both hands, tossing her off her feet. She careened over sideways, brushing a man who grabbed at empty air, and landed on her back, staring at another man seizing Kitlyn from behind.

  “No!” shouted Oona, not bothering to sit up. She thrust her arm out, a bolt of blue light flying from her fingertips.

  The beam clipped the man in the side of the head simultaneously burning and hitting with the force of a punch. He stumbled to the left away from Kitlyn, who whirled after him, screaming in pain and anger.

  With a growl, the man who’d been creeping up behind Oona rushed at her, a dagger in his right hand. She summoned a blast of magic light in his face, which blinded him for a few seconds, enough time for her to scramble upright and pull her longsword out of its scabbard.

  Raesa loosed an arrow into the trees up ahead. A man fell from the branches, but before she could fire again, another man charged out of the weeds mere feet away from her. She dropped the bow and spun under his sword stroke, gracefully drawing her blade into a slash across his chest that scored his leather armor. He backpedaled, attacking again, but she parried, their blades crossing with a loud clang.

  Oona raised her sword and stared at the man for three seconds until Kitlyn’s roaring distracted her to peer past him. She weaved between two men also in leather armor, ducking and swinging, blocking as many strikes with her weapon as she dodged.

  Before Oona could toss another bolt of light, the man shook off the blindness and sprang at her, thrusting his dagger at her stomach. She shoved her butt backward while two-handing her longsword into a crossing high slash. The dagger tip scraped the armor over her stomach, clicking on the chain mail reinforcement, but he abandoned his attack to dive away from her sword.