“What is this black stuff?” J.C. asked.
“It’s something black lumir crystals generate, and it eats magic.”
J.C. stared at him as if he’d solved the riddle of the ages. “That’s how he did it. With the magic gone, people would feel its lack. Nature abhors a vacuum. So, the Adversary filled their emptiness with his purpose. That’s why it didn’t affect everyone. The believers were already full, so there was nowhere for the Adversary’s purpose to go.”
Screams echoed through the tunnel followed by the thunder of many, many running feet. Stones crashed down somewhere ahead in a recognizable pattern.
“It can’t be free.”
“What’s happening?”
Ran huddled against Sarn’s chest, making it hard to rise. Half his body refused to respond—the half covered in dense black writing.
“What can’t be free?” J.C. asked.
“The Ægeldar,” Sarn breathed and in his arms, Ran shivered. “There’s a monster in the Ægeldar with the black lumir crystals. If one is free, then both are.” Sarn tried again to stand. “We need to get away before it comes here.”
“Here, give me your hand and I’ll pull you up.”
Sarn freed his unmarked hand but stopped short of touching J.C. He was unclean. He had no right to touch such a spotless soul.
While he hesitated, something punched through the wall across from him, sending rocks flying. Sarn extended his hand to cast a shield around them, but nothing happened. The green magic, the power of stones and protection, the one he used to make shields, was gone—drained by the black lumir crystal or forfeited when the Question was interrupted.
All he had left was a flickering flame buried deep inside him. When he reached for it, his hand passed right through that white fire—there was no power to grasp or shape. For the first time in his entire life, he had no magic at his beck and call, just his wits. That emptiness was a fierce ache begging to be filled. Sarn hugged his son, and Ran returned the embrace.
“It’s happening again—the m-monster is free,” Ran clung to him as another tentacle broke through.
“I won't let them get you.”
Sarn dodged the falling debris, jinking to evade two more tentacles. Can they sense me or something? Why are they all breaking through right here? There are other tunnels in the Lower Quarters. Thank Fate, none of the tentacles had eyes. They were stuck feeling about for prey. Hopefully, they didn’t have ears either.
Sarn halted just beyond the grasping tentacle’s reach. “J.C.! Where are you?”
When the air cleared, a mountain of rubble blocked the tunnel but there was no sign of J.C. just six tentacles feeling along the broken stones.
“J.C.?” Sarn set his son down and started climbing, but Ran wrapped his arms around his leg. When he glanced back, Ran just shook his head. Tears tracked down his dusty little face. They leaked out of a pair of wide, scared eyes. Sarn rubbed his son’s back.
“I’ll just see if he’s ok. You stay here out of the monster’s reach, okay?”
Ran shook his head and squeezed his captured leg harder. His little shoulders shook with silent sobs. Torn between staying and going, Sarn shouted for J.C. one last time.
“I’m here. We’ve been cut off. Perhaps that’s for the best.” Find your brother and help your Queen. Leave the Adversary to me.”
“I can make a hole. We can still accompany you.”
“No, I couldn’t in good conscience expose you or your son to the Adversary.”
“Because it took my magic?”
J.C. didn't answer.
“I can still help.”
I can still be a hero. Sarn shifted one of the rocks aside but stopped when the ones above it rocked. I never guess wrong. I always know which rock to move. Because his magic had always shown him which stones would bring the whole thing crumbling down, but that power was gone. Eyes burning with unshed tears, Sarn punched the wall but remembered in time to pull the blow. Without magic, those rocks could break his hand.
And in his mind’s eye, a sun-drenched field of valor stretched to the horizon. The shining warrior he’d wanted to be since childhood turned his steed and rode away, taking his dream with him. The image crumpled and faded into the white glow of his pendant.
J.C. sighed instead of answering.
Yes, Sarn was being excluded because he had no magic. Without it, he was useless in this fight. The realization hit Sarn harder than anything he’d seen during that trip through his memories.
“It is because my magic is gone. You need the kind of help I can no longer give.”
“It can’t be gone.” Ran stared at him. “It’ll come back. Last time you just needed to—what did Bear say? —recuperate.”
Sarn shook his head. This time was different. He felt empty and dark as if all his light was extinguished. This time his magic was gone for good. “I didn’t choose in time. The black lumir hit me when I was still wavering. It took everything but a small ember, and I can’t touch that.”
“Don’t touch it. That ember’s keeping you alive. You were made to store and shape magic. Without it, your body doesn’t know how to function.”
“So, there’s a chance I can get it back?” Sarn wished he could see J.C.’s face.
Do I want it back? Right now, yes, he did. Magic was useful in a crisis, and he felt naked without it. But once the crisis passed, what then? Did he want to be tied to that power and a life of constant danger?
“Papa, I want to go, now. I don’t want to stay here. I don’t want to fight m-monsters. I want to go home.” Tears washed the dust from Ran’s cheeks.
“Whether you want it back or not, finish the trial. It’s called the ‘Question’ for a reason. You must answer it. It’ll hang over your head until you do, putting pressure on the world’s balance.”
“You mean the cross you bear.”
“Yes, for my sake, please finish the trial.”
“How do I answer it?”
“Do you want it back?”
That gave Sarn pause. All the arguments for and against clamored for his attention until he silenced them. “Jerlo, my master, can he bind me to something I don’t want?” His gut said no because then he would be bound to a lie. And I can’t lie.
“You already know the answer to that.”
“That’s what I thought.” Sarn ground his teeth.
Then at some point in my screwed-up teen years, I wanted normalcy. I wanted a life without magic. Do I still? Sarn leaned against the rubble pile as an unexpected answer welled up from the bottom of his soul.
“Until you know what you want, you’ll stay as you are. I’d like to help you, but this is a decision only you can make. Thank you for all your help. Be safe my friends. Whatever you decide, you have my support.”
“Thank you.” Sarn pushed off the mountain of rubble and knew what he had to do.
“What about the many-armed m-monster?” Ran’s grip loosened just a hair, but it was enough to free Sarn’s leg. He scooped up his son and hugged him.
J.C. didn’t answer. Maybe he’d already left on his mission.
“I think we’re taking it on again.”
“But we can’t, not without Bear or the Queen Tree. Or we’ll lose.”
Because you have no magic, rasped Sarn’s conscience.
Then it’s time I find out how resourceful I can be. I’m not endangering my son. Sarn tightened his grip and turned his back on the rock pile to assess his options by crystal light. Not having glowing eyes would take some getting used to—if this state is permanent. I’m not convinced it is. Nothing in my life has been set in stone, so why should this be?
Another tear rolled down Ran’s cheek. “I want Bear. Why isn’t he here?”
“I know. I wish that sarcastic ghost was here too, but he’s not—” Sarn stopped as a familiar fuzzy head reared up. A tentacle had wrapped around Ran’s favorite toy, and it receded, taking Bear with it.
“Rat Woman brought it to me,” Ran said with a shrug
while Sarn stared at the surreal tableau.
“Rocks and ripples,” Nolo murmured in the back of his mind presaging a familiar lecture about the ‘little things' in life, and why Sarn shouldn't neglect them.
I'll bet he never envisioned this scenario. Sarn shook his head and refocused on the equally bizarre conversation.
“Rat Woman was here? When did you see her?”
How long was I trapped in that 'Question?' Evidently, long enough for allies to come and go and someone to release not one but two deadly threats. And I no longer have the power to even try to stop them. But Bear was another story.
“Insect Man was here too. They tried to save us from the shadow-creature and the staring people, but the black mist made them fall apart. I hope they're okay.”
“I hope so too.” But Sarn couldn't worry about them right now.
He set Ran down out of the tentacles’ reach. “Stay here while I rescue Bear.”
“Be careful.”
Sarn nodded.
Without magic, ‘careful’ was his new watchword, and it lasted all of five seconds. Five tentacles, each about as wide as a tree trunk slithered over rocks and twisted banners. The third one from the left dragged Bear closer to the hole it had entered through. Sarn patted his pockets, searching for anything that might hold an edge then remembered his pendant. When he tried to lift the leather thong it hung on over his head, it choked him until he let go. Damn, there went plan A.
Plan B was more dangerous, but he was out of options. So Sarn went into a slide and stabbed the tentacle with his pendant when he passed by. It dropped Bear and felt the ichor-spewing hole he’d drilled in it, bumping two other tentacles while he scooped up Bear. Three tentacles whipped around as Sarn rushed back to his son. He dodged the first two and leaped over the third.
“You did it! You saved Bear.” Ran’s eyes shone with joy as he hugged his only toy.
The stuffed thing looked less ratty, and its fur seemed fuller and softer than before. In fact, Bear wasn’t even dirty from rolling in the dust, and he’d acquired a silver ribbon that shimmered in the crystal light. Did that spirit guide's body receive an upgrade when I wasn't looking? Sarn shelved that question for later when five tentacles weren't searching for him and his son.
“Yes, Bear’s safe now.”
“Sometimes the smallest actions make the biggest difference,” Nolo said and in Sarn’s mind’s eye, his other master tossed a rock into a calm pool, rippling its surface to make his point.
It was time to test that theory because, without magic, small things were all he could manage. But according to Nolo, if he did enough ‘small things,' they'd pile up into something big. Perhaps their cumulative effect would be enough to shift the course of the future.
“Come on. Let's go see what else we can do.”
“But the m-monster—"
That was a concern, but a grim determination fired Sarn, leaving no room for doubt. My heroes wouldn't give up just because they didn’t have the right tools, and neither will I.
“I’ll think of something.”
‘Rocks and ripples’—those two words echoed in Sarn’s mind as he scooped up his son and ducked under tentacle number four, which had decided to probe the ceiling. Through a square-cut hole, it explored the duct. Tentacle number five snaked over the ground investigating rocks, so he stepped over it then turned sideways as tentacle number three shot past him. It struck the wall showering them with pebbles as Sarn hurried around the next bend.
To be continued in Curse Breaker: Sundered. Get it now.
Keep reading for a bonus story. Let Ran take you behind the scenes so you can see just how Curse Breaker: Falls went so spectacularly off the rails. He can’t wait to show you.
Characters Speak
Hi Readers!
I’m back! It’s your favorite little boy from the story—Ran! I hope you enjoyed our adventure in spiritual warfare. We were supposed to go on a radically different adventure, but the Adversary chose to go after Papa instead of egging Aralore and her mobile disaster on like a good villain should.
Our scribe is unhappy about that. Melinda doesn’t like cliffhangers and Empire Strikes Back kinds of endings, but we left her no choice. (We, the cast, aren’t sorry about that. Don’t tell our scribe, okay?)
Melinda likes happy endings, sky beams and lots of magic. But most of all, she likes me (Ran) to end up somewhere safe by the book’s end, but this time, the story couldn’t end that way. Papa deserves a little time to explore how the other half lives—without magic.
Granted, Papa’s not getting a lot of time, but I’m excited to see how he handles the challenge. (I also have front row seats.) This way, when Papa makes his final decision, he can make it with no regrets. And I get extended father-and-son time, so I have nothing to complain about.
We’ll do the story our scribe wanted to tell in Curse Breaker: Sundered. Promise. Curse Breaker: Sundered will come out before summer 2018. We’re shooting for an early May release. Of course, we must confirm that with our scribe.
Join our digital army to read all our out-of-book adventures by going to www.mkucsera.com/welcomecharacters
So, how did our book go so spectacularly off the rails? I’m glad you asked. It went a little something like this:
THEN
Our Scribe hunched over her *magical* laptop recording our every deed (and sometimes modifying them). Her fingers danced across the keys until a voice, like the rasping of a chain smoker, startled her.
“No, look again. I’m not doing that. I’m doing this.”
A bony finger tapped the screen, and the characters swirled into a vortex.
“Wait, I don’t want to do that either.” A little boy (me) climbed onto the ladder-backed chair next to the table.
“Who’s writing this story?” Our scribe shoved her hip-length brown hair behind her shoulder and glared at us.
“You are,” I said, “but I like his idea.”
“What idea?”
“This.”
An image took shape on the screen revealing a hooded man, pied-piper style, leading a crowd of listless, staring zombies.
“Wait, that’s not right.” I shook the laptop and scattered the pixels. They accreted into another image, but it still wasn’t right. “Papa can’t fly and what is that?”
Our scribe closed the laptop shutting off the image. “I can’t work like this.”
“Well, you must.” Jerlo leaned against the refrigerator. “I’m not being left out of this one.”
[Our scribe has a tiny studio apartment. The whole cast can’t fit inside it at the same time, but we try when we have important things to discuss—like the plot of our books.]
“You already had your own book,” I said, frowning at the commander’s impertinence.
“And who are you?”
“Someone you haven’t met yet, the Master of Newsletters,” I said in as serious a tone as I could muster.
A glass door slid open letting in a gust of chilly wind. “Hey, we want in on this one too,” Ranispara said as she and Inari entered.
A silver branch snaked inside before Inari could close the door and a woman in white squeezed past, knocking her diamond-studded crown askew. “Us too, or we’ll hide from the sequel. We don’t need to play with black lumir, you know. There are less lethal things we could be doing.” She folded her arms over her bejeweled chest.
Our scribe was backed into a corner by all the bodies packing into her apartment, but she’s a tough one. Standing to her full five-foot-nothing height, she stared us down.
“Let me get this straight. If I let you have your way for this one book, you’ll go on the adventure I wanted to send you on?”
“It must include all of us—the whole cast such as it is, but that’s what we’re offering.” Jerlo stepped forward.
“You do realize that black lumir crystal is out there destroying your world, right?”
“The Queen of All Trees and I have a plan to stop her,” said Shayari
as she pushed past Jerlo. “We don’t need help, but we do need them to stay out of our way.” She gestured to the rest of the cast and a few shot her murderous looks.
“And I want to fight him.” The Adversary pointed at Papa. “I’ll take your soul boy.”
Papa doesn’t like crowds, so he sat on a dirty lawn chair on the six-foot square of cracking concrete pretending to be a patio. Across from him sat Uncle Miren drumming his fingers on the glass-topped table between them. I rushed over to join them and put my soul out of the Adversary’s reach. I liked it right where it was.
“It’s called spiritual warfare.” The Adversary smiled at my retreat. I climbed onto Papa’s lap, and he hugged me.
“I don’t like this idea anymore.”
“Why not? I’m offering you another father-son adventure with a dark twist of course.” The Adversary’s smile turned feral as he approached, and I shivered.
While Papa considered the proposition, his eyes glowed brighter indicating his magic was considering it too—not a good sign. What the magic wanted, it got, and it wanted this fight.
“No, Papa, let’s do what our wonderful scribe, Melinda, wants us to do.”
But Papa was already nodding. Though he did spare a glance at my uncle. Uncle Miren was no help.
“I like the idea. You should do it—really test yourself.” Then Uncle Miren looked at our scribe. “Do I get to be in this one? You left me out of the last one.”
Our scribe shrugged. “I have no idea what they’re planning. But the story I want to tell will give you far more page time and lots of drama and action. I like action and big, blockbuster endings, but you’re not going to let me do that, are you?” Our scribe glowered at the Adversary.
Uncle Miren wavered.
The Adversary waved to get his attention. “You’ll get a powerful cameo. I’ll make certain.”
Uncle Miren frowned at the Adversary. “You promise?”
Falls Page 26