The Shadow Curse

by Kala Merseal

  the shadow curse

  Kala Merseal

  Seven Stars Press

  To my mother, who always believed in me and who lives on through the hope and determination I bleed on these pages.

  To my husband, who is my anchor and pushes me to be the best me.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Glossary

  About The Author

  Chapter One

  The calming strums of an elven lyre drifted throughout Queen Adaena’s room, its tune a lullaby to the sickly matriarch. Ara Zypherus’ fingers plucked the lyre strings and her soothing song soon lurched into a lazy, melancholy ambling of notes as she drifted away in her thoughts. Moments before, she sat closely with her queen mother, their whispers of light gossip merging into yawns and an inquiry of an innocent, light performance from her daughter.

  The queen spent most of her days now resting in her chambers. Her attendants were kind companions, but lately, Adaena sent for her daughter for every occasion. Today, like all other days, Ara’s visit went well into the evening.

  Ara watched her mother, now dozing and coddled in her lush bedding.

  The last rays of sunlight illuminated the queen’s pallid complexion and the black veins adorning her bare skin. The markings etched up her neck from her chest. For years now, the inky lines were like permanent decorations on Adaena, a constant reminder that soon, the Shadow Plague would take the queen’s life.

  The Plague appeared decades ago in the valleys of Kava Sil. It quickly took the Altana continent like wildfire, spreading to Viloth and to Therilea’s outer territories. In time, it reached Waetherea’s obscure mountains, soon even devouring their beloved Crown Prince.

  Ara didn’t know that Aescion Waethis had fallen ill until news traveled to Therilea and hadn’t gotten the chance to see him before he died.

  “We mustn’t let the body rot,” Kaesith, the Waetherean King, said upon Ara’s funerary visit.

  The Waetherean court allowed the princess to visit his tomb. But during her week-long stay within Sarcha’s golden palace, whispers of the Prince’s rumored disappearance and an empty tomb hinted that their people thought him still alive.

  Ara knew that most whispers of the public were rumors only, and though a part of her clung to a hope that the Crown Prince still lived, she locked it away when she returned home.

  And that hope soon died as the decades wore on as the Shadow Plague worsened.

  “Why did you stop, dear?”

  Ara looked at her mother, whose eyes glistened.

  Ara cleared her throat and set the lyre down, a gift from said Crown Prince. She had little talent in any way but with the lyre and she had discovered said gift because of Aescion Waethis. Playing the instrument reopened old wounds but Ara was soft for her mother and when the queen requested a song, she couldn’t deny her.

  Everyone knew that Adaena’s end drew near and Ara didn’t want to waste any second. Instead, she wanted to fill her mother’s moments with laughter, and joy.

  Ara swallowed her sorrow and smiled.

  “Just thinking, Mother. I’m sorry to wake you.”

  “It’s alright, love.” Adaena smiled though fatigue showed in her eyes.

  Ara stood with a stretch, withholding a yawn. The last of the sun disappeared from their view and the full moon replaced its yellow hue with a white glow.

  “Should I join you for breakfast tomorrow?”

  “Of course.”

  Ara collected her lyre. She froze as her sharp, pointed ears focused on a noise. A few seconds passed before Ara rushed to the window, her eyes wide as a keening grew, a mile away.

  Yards from the window, the iridescent surface of a ward shivered against vibrations.

  Black masses interrupted the moonlight. A few at first, then dozens, then hundreds.

  “Get away from the window,” the queen shouted.

  Ara ran for her mother and caught Adaena as she nearly tumbled out of her bed. Hurrying, Ara ushered her mother out of the room. Attendants and guards rushed to the two royals and ushered them from the queen’s chambers and down the stairs.

  Thunder rolled through the palace, followed by quakes. Vibrant lights erupted outside as the Kaevari, demons with membranous wings and silky tails slammed their bodies into its surface. Their crimson eyes glowed, thousands of dots against the night sky.

  The ward bought the keep’s inhabitants time to escape. But with the bright flashes and thunderous sounds, Ara knew it would not last long.

  “Where is the King?” the queen cried as the attendants led her and Ara toward the main palace floors.

  Arlow, a half-elven royal guard, joined them as they rushed into one of the main halls.

  “The King is with his royal commander, Your

  Majesty,” Arlow replied, calling over the panic. “We must meet the escape party within the council room.”

  Of course, King Raifeld and his royal guard would have an escape plan. Ara still couldn’t feel relieved—not until they were safe and far away from the demons.

  Another wave rumbled through the palace. Fear spiked Ara’s gut. Her fists clenched, gripping her skirts as everyone hastened their pace.

  They approached the council room’s entrance. Ara swallowed a lump in her throat, shucking shallows breaths through her clenched teeth.

  The queen sagged in the cluster of guards and attendants and begged for them to slow. Arlow moved around the others and lifted the queen into his arms, leading the group into the council room. Humans and elves filled the room, all dressed in enchanted armor and robes. The bustling halted for a moment upon the arrival of the queen and princess and the sea of people parted as they headed toward the group of leaders clustered around the king’s table.

  Another wave of quakes racked through the palace and shouts filled the air. People lost their balance, bumping into one another and clutching anything to stay upright.

  A hand grabbed Ara’s elbow, saving her knees from bruising against the fall.

  Commander Raethin Corvus let go once Ara gained her balance and moved around her to join the King at the oval table.

  He and Ara tolerated each other’s presence due to his position but despite her disdain for the commander, Ara often noted his deep emerald eyes and the mess of chestnut hair that he always kept short at finger’s length. He towered over most others, his royal armor matching the sea of golden and purple among the other warriors and sorcerers.

  Ara turned and headed toward her parents. King Raifeld stood with Adaena in his arms, whispering in her ear.

  Ara’s heart thundered as another quake raked through the palace.

  A hush fell over the crowded room as an abrupt keening broke through the thunderous shakes.

  “Take your stations.” The King’s order recaptured the room’s attention and the whole room shifted into action. Commanders led different sects of warriors and mages through various doors. Soon, Ara, her parents, Raethin, attendants to the queen, and the royal guards were all that remained.

  “
Ara.” Raifeld’s frown deepened as he took in Ara’s panic. He cleared his throat and beckoned his daughter closer.

  The King pulled his daughter into a rough hug, his breath heavy as he fought back tears. It struck Ara just as quickly as their embrace ended that this may be the last time her father held her. Tears stung her eyes.

  Before he released her, Raifeld whispered, “Harethi.”

  I love you.

  And as she pulled away, Ara replied, “Harethi’sh’di.”

  I love you too.

  Adaena tugged Ara and embraced her, stifling back sobs. Stunned, Ara froze, eyeing her father over her mother’s slight frame. The king nodded, his expression grim, as

  Adaena pulled back and caressed her daughter’s cheek.

  “Be safe.” Tears overflowed in the queen’s eyes as she gripped her daughter’s shoulders. “I am staying behind, to be with your father until the end.”

  “What—” Ara’s heart jumped as her words choked in her throat. She had expected her mother to come with her. Instead, resolve shown in the queen’s shimmering gaze as she swallowed and pulled her daughter back into an embrace. Adaena’s grip tightened around Ara with a surprising burst of strength.

  The princess stared wide-eyed at her father as the queen petted Ara’s hair and whispered in her ear.

  “Go with Raethin, dear,” Adaena said, her voice shaking. “Both your father and I trust him to take care of you. Please hurry and leave and don’t look back.”

  A large, calloused hand gripped Ara’s hand and Adaena let go.

  “Wait!” Ara struggled against the arms that tugged at her. She reached for her mother, her vision blurring with tears, and begged for just a few more minutes. King Raifeld held her mother as the queen sobbed, the screeches and cries of war resounding in the background. Thunder rolled through the castle in time with the rallying screams.

  “Come, princess,” Raethin’s voice rumbled in her ear. She glanced up, catching the pitying gaze in his deep-set emerald eyes as he towed her farther from her parents. “We must leave now.”

  Ara sagged against him but slowly she felt her legs move on their own, dragging her further away from the room. Raethin took her to a set of stairs, shrouded by royal flags.

  Ara overhead a yelp as someone pushed through the crowd. Nyphelia, the princess’s attendant, stumbled into Ara and clutched her arm.

  “They broke through—” Nyphelia choked. “It is hells incarnate.”

  Ara hesitated and looked to the center of the council room. Her mother, her slight frame compared to her father’s towering mass, shivered against the king as another thunder rolled through the castle. Adaena caught Ara’s last gaze before Raethin tugged on her again, pulling her underneath the flags and through the tunnel entrance.

  That last image of her parents burned in Ara’s mind as Raethin led her down steps. Nyphelia held onto the princess’s arm while Raethin’s warm palm held fast to Ara’s other hand. Arlow slammed the entrance behind them, sealing them in darkness.

  “There are provisions at the end of the stairwell,” Raethin said. “Move quickly. We don’t know how, when or if we will be chased.”

  Time prolonged as they traveled in darkness. Slowly, Ara pulled out of the haze of shock. She felt the cold of the humid underground air hitting her wet cheeks and the damp stench of moss and earth. Raethin still clutched her hand and quickly his touch became overwhelming. Ara slipped her hand from his and sniffed, swallowing down another wave of fresh tears as her thoughts fell back behind them to the castle and its inhabitants.

  Ara counted the heads before her. Raethin continued to walk ahead, his bulky form blocking most of her vision. She noticed through the dimness three others in front of him: Max, Arlow, and Veron, handpicked royal warriors by both Raethin and King Raifeld. She was familiar with Max and Arlow and had a sense of relief knowing they accompanied her.

  The party faltered each time the quakes of war shook the tunnel. Dust shook off the walls and ceiling, coating their heads and shoulders. Ara heard Raethin’s whispered swears at each quake.

  Minutes drew on and everyone was too terrified to speak, even as they reached the end of the stairwell. Once they exited into a wider hallway, the soldiers grouped around Ara and Nyphelia.

  Thank Theron, the commander was right. Shelves of armor and weapons covered one wall, while chests lined the other.

  Raethin motioned for the soldiers to grab extra daggers, swords, and arrows. Then he moved to the chests, opening the first one. Wrapped packs were inside, filled with dried foods and water canteens. He handed each to those who could carry, then moved to the next chest. Within the second there were mounds of leather clothing. He grabbed two bundles and the boots underneath and handed them to ladies.

  “Change into these quickly. We’ll turn our backs to you. Remain inside the circle.”

  Ara scowled at the rough clothing, a stark difference to her silky dresses. But the soldiers turned their backs and created a circle around Ara and Nyphelia.

  While the women changed, Raethin shed his heavy golden armor and dumped it in the open chest. He strapped on new leather and fastened his golden sword to his hip.

  A sound cut through the tunnel, sharp but distance.

  The group froze, tuning in their ears. A howl followed shortly after. Fear struck Ara’s gut like a cold iron stake, twisting as her companions responded. A creature had entered the tunnel from where they came, following the scent trail they left behind.

  Raethin gripped Ara’s wrist and towed her down the wide hallway. The soldiers followed closely behind. Nyphelia gripped Arlow’s hand, stifling her sobs. Ara’s heart thundered in her chest as she let Raethin tug her along, too terrified to complain about his rough handling.

  They traveled for hours in silence. The demon’s noises soon faded and whether the demon still pursued them, no one knew nor waited to find out.

  Ara sighed with relief when they approached the end of the tunnel. A solid stone wall awaited them with the royal tapestry covering its mold. Raethin approached the wall and waved his hand across the stone A sigil appeared as he spoke incantations from ancient tongue. The markings flashed as the stone shifted, revealing a threshold.

  The commander ushered the others through the narrow opening.

  Everyone relaxed at the sight of dawn breaking through the surrounding trees. The catacombs’ hidden entrance directed them into a valley within the Rakevan Forest. The labyrinthine woods stretched for miles, taking up more than a third of Therilea’s boundaries.

  Now they just needed to get as far away from Verisca as possible.

  Chapter Two

  The Kaevari rose from the shadows shortly after the Plague spread throughout Altana. Rumored creatures of ink and shadow sprouted along Kava Sil’s southern coast amid the nights within fishing villages and trading ports. Most believed their appearances to be stories passed on by travelers as Altana was a continent full of strange creatures and legends. But then the Kaevari swarmed Kava Sil’s mainland, a pestilence that soon devoured their people in masses.

  The other kingdoms took immediate action after Kava Sil’s fall. For decades thereafter, the elves strengthened their arcane defenses, training their sorcerers and warriors in magicks of light and fire. The human province retracted into itself, reinforcing their stone instead.

  They all first believed the Kaevari were primal, gluttonous creatures of devastation but as the kingdoms combated the Kaevari swarms, they discovered the shrewd intelligence that dwelt in the beasts.

  The only weakness ever discovered about the demonic pestilence was their aversion to sunlight. Never had the Kaevari attacked during the day.

  When Ara’s group exited the catacombs, they relaxed at the first rays of dawn. Their bodies ached as they slouched against trees and stumps for rest. Raethin remained alert and upright, his eyes and ears scrutinizing their surroundings. Despite the sunlight and lack of danger, the commander didn’t relax.

  “We must distance ourselves fro
m where we came,” Raethin said. “Then we can rest for the day.”

  Ara was not sure that her limbs could tow her much farther but when the others moved without protest, she dragged her feet along.

  Raethin and Arlow led the group, with Max and Veron flanking the two women. They moved in silence for a mile before Arlow quipped short questions to the commander about where they were going.

  “We’re looking for a creek,” Raethin snapped. “We’ll rest then.”

  They searched for signs of water as they traveled and soon after catching the trickling sound of water, they found a stream. Nyphelia leaned against a stump and Ara slumped on a boulder, both sagging with fatigue. Ara shuffled through her knapsack for the canteen and packages of dried bread.

  “Are there no bedrolls or tents?” Ara muttered as she reached the bottom of her knapsack.

  “There is one tent,” Max said. “And the other packs have the bedrolls.”

  Arlow and Veron unfurled the bed rolls and set them down while Max filled two canteens. Arlow unraveled the wrapped dried foods, revealing bread and fruit, and handed out portions to the others.

  “We have enough for about two weeks if we hunt for meat and ration,” Max said as he reviewed their stock.

  The commander stood away from the others, denying any portions that Max tried to hand to him.

  Ara eyed him. His astuteness and caution were admirable — to a point. But everyone knew that the demons could not pursue them in broad daylight, so his vigilance agitated Ara.

  Abruptly, Raethin turned toward them, catching Ara’s stare. She averted her gaze to the trickling stream reflecting the morning sun.

  “We will rest here for the day,” Raethin alerted the others as he grabbed a canteen and sipped the water.

  “Veron, unpack the tent for the princess and her friend.”

  Five minutes later, Veron finished the tent and placed bedrolls inside. The group drank and ate their fill of water and bread for a few moments in silence. Both Ara and

  Nyphelia rolled up their sleeves as the day’s temperature rose. Autumn painted the forest with tinges of orange and yellow, but the summer heat still hung in the air. Despite the temperature and sweat, men surrounded Ara and Nyphelia so all they removed were their boots and socks, airing out their sweating feet.