The Shadow Curse

by Kala Merseal

  “Aeskrius?”

  She nodded numbly as her gaze turned out from him. Distance swelled in her expression.

  “You had nightmares of him,” Raethin said, beckoning for her to say more, to rely on him more. “Did those stop?”

  “Yes.” Her hands twisted in her lap. “And I thought because they stopped that he’d lost interest. But that was naive, wasn’t it?”

  More tears swelled in her eyes as she sniffled. “I thought that I was protected in here. That being out of sight and out of reach, he would move on and find something else to kill and maim. Turns out that he is been biding his time. And…and he saw us through her eyes. I bet he let her get taken just so that he could see us. And set us up for a trap.” Her words caught in her throat as she wiped her eyes.

  “I just…I just want to be at peace. I am constantly in danger. Constantly afraid that the ward will fall, that everyone around me will die. I am afraid—terrified that my parents’ efforts to protect me were in vain. That they will die in vain. I am terrified that I cannot live up to their expectations. I will not be able to reunite anything or anybody. I’ll die first and this kingdom will be dead along with me.”

  Raethin embraced her as she fell into another sob. Her tears stained his shirt as she wept.

  Her words rang in his ears, the confession welling deep emotion in the pit of his chest. His heart ached at her pain and Raethin clutched her tighter.

  What else was there to say? He could comfort her in saying that he would protect her and keep her safe, but she was right. Aeskrius did intend to set up a trap, it was clear as day. But Cirith was willing to fall into it for an upper advantage. How, Raethin couldn’t imagine.

  When Ara settled once more, her tears soon dried up and she stiffened in his arms. They both became painfully aware of how close they were; Ara clutched onto him like a child and Raethin embraced her like a lover.

  Ara detached herself from him, sliding off his lap and onto the ground. Her eyes were swollen but dry, exhausted of tears.

  “I need to get stronger,” she said. “I can’t continue to be so weak.”

  “You’re strong, Ara,” Raethin replied as he too stood.

  “But there’s only so much we can do, arcane-wise.”

  Ara hesitated to respond, her expression closing as they continued along the path. Halfway to the guests’ quarters, Raethin reached for her hand and gently held it.

  She halted in her steps, eying him with uncertainty.

  “I must go speak with Cirith,” Raethin said. “But no matter what happens, you must listen to the elders.”

  “So, you are going to go with him tonight.”

  He nodded. “We both know that he’s accepting the lure to catch Aeskrius off-guard somehow. I trust that he knows what he’s doing.”

  “I—” Ara started but then shook her head. Her lips pursed as heat ran up her neck. “Well, I can’t stop you. But please see me before you head off.”

  Slowly, Raethin nodded again, his brow furrowing as she quickly turned and rushed off.

  He sighed and left to meet the Guardian. Hopefully, he had some reasonable plan in mind.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  When Raethin entered the council chambers, he found Cirith and the elders waiting at the round table for him. He sat down across from the Guardian, frowning as the others waited in silence.

  “You’re not going to give Ara to him,” Raethin said after a moment. “So, what is it you’re planning?”

  “No, I’m not.” Cirith leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. His golden eyes shifted across the table as he studied the others. “We’ve lightly discussed it while we waited for you. We think it’s time.”

  “For?”

  “Aeskrius revealed his plan. He plans to isolate you and me so that his demons can break through the ward and siege the keep.” The Guardian sighed; his frown filled with disappointment. “Frankly, we knew it was a matter of time. We took the chance and now we know. I realize our move was premature and caused this effect, but I can’t imagine how much longer he would’ve waited before attempting to break the ward.”

  Raethin nodded slowly, taking in his words.

  “I’ve already sent the command out for the druids to prepare,” Cirith continued. “They are gathering all those who can’t fight and bringing them to this building. Those who can are preparing now. At dusk, you and I will go out to meet the demons. Groups of warriors will spread throughout the fortress, and a group will follow us across the bridge. There they will wait until we come back in. If the ward falls, they will strike the demons down as they come in.”

  “I’ll accompany Ara in the shrine.” Misandreas met Raethin’s eyes with a knowing look. “She’ll be under hundreds of alchemists and mages. None of the demons will get through.”

  Raethin felt a twinge in his stomach. A sense of dread settled over him. He leaned on the table, meeting Cirith’s inquiring gaze.

  “What is your goal?” He asked. “What if the ward does fall and you can’t resurrect it in time.”

  “The warriors will fend off the demons from getting into the keep. The mages will be the second wave of defense. As for us, we will be distracting and fatiguing Aeskrius,” Cirith said. “If we can manage to fend everything off until dawn, then I can spend daylight rectifying the ward. The goal is to break the demons down—so much so that they think twice about approaching us.”

  “And what about next time they break down the ward?”

  Cirith mulled over the question, his fingers drumming against wood.

  “We could trap him,” Cirith deliberated. “But it would require us to be quick.”

  “How the hells are we going to trap him?” Cold washed over Raethin. Just proclaiming that possibility seemed more insane than any of his other plans. “He nearly killed me in a matter of minutes. Now, I may be able to defend myself, but I can’t even wake up the deity sleeping inside of me.”

  “You’re much stronger than you were before, even without the deity awake.” Cirith’s fingers flicked the idea away. Raethin grimaced at the gesture.

  “Besides,” the Guardian continued. “It is both of us. I am fully awakened, and he is hesitant to fight me. If we both corner him then we could trap him.”

  “What are you going to trap him in?”

  Cirith paused again, his fingers resuming their drumming.

  “We hold him within a prison of magick until dawn, then he’ll be weak enough,” Cirith said slowly, working on his plan as he spoke. “Then we may be able to just stab him and be done with it.”

  “Splendid idea,” Raethin groused. “Then the gods will break the veil and congratulate us for saving the realm.”

  “Your sarcasm wasn’t asked for, Rae.”

  “We could just not meet him at all.”

  Cirith shrugged. “Then we will be cowards.”

  “So what?” Raethin snapped, exasperated. His fingers clenched into fists as he leaned forward against the table, “Are you telling me that your pride will allow us to be vulnerable. What if it is a bluff? What if he is luring us out to weaken us—Not because he knows how to break the ward?”

  The room fell silent. Solas looked at Raethin in what resembled faint respect. Misandreas shared a look of doubt with Vilithian. Cirith stared at Raethin, scrutinizing the elf.

  “Fine,” Cirith gritted. “We will still prepare for battle but at dusk, you and I and the others will wait at the edge of the bridge. There, we will watch and see what Aeskrius does.”

  “Fine,” Raethin retorted and stood. “Then I will see you at the bridge at dusk.”

  Raethin turned on his heels and left the chamber. He rushed out of the keep, his gut rolling with anxiety. There were still a few hours left of daylight. When he reached the main fortress grounds, he found it filled with druids rushing around. He saw more children than he had since he woke, all cloistered together with their adult sisters.

  The general mood was solemn, even as Raethin entered the guests’ quarters
. He hurried up the stairs and found his companions seated in the lounge, muttering among each other.

  Ara sat beside Nyphelia, both with their hands clenched in their lap.

  When Raethin approached them, Arlow shoved to his feet and gripped Raethin’s shoulder.

  “Ara told us what’s happening,” he said with a grimace. “And Bieva told us what they’re preparing. We’re supposed to go to the keep at dusk.”

  “That’s for the best,” Raethin muttered.

  Max stood beside Arlow, distressed. The older elf crossed his arms, his lips pulled tight in a frown.

  “Will you join Cirith then?” Max asked.

  “Yes.” Raethin’s gaze cut briefly to Ara and caught her stare. Sighing, he looked away and continued, “I will have to. At dusk, he and I and a group of druids will wait at the bridge’s edge for Aeskrius. We will see what he does first. Cirith wants to try to capture him and weaken up at dawn. Enough to kill him.”

  “That’s suicide,” Ara snapped. “Why must you continue to throw yourself in harm’s way? Do you want to be killed?”

  Her outburst silenced the room. She clenched her fists at her sides as tears welled in her eyes. She stared, her cheeks blushing deep red, and ignored the others as they blanched and eyed the two.

  “Ara—”

  “Seriously.” She furiously wiped at her face and sniffled. “You worry us all sick. What if we lost you? Again? We can’t function without you.”

  Raethin briefly met Max’s stare. Clearing his throat, he moved forward and gripped her shoulders.

  “Calm down,” he muttered, smoothing her hair as she continued to cry and sniffle. “I know you’re worried about me, but I’ll be fine. Cirith is not concerned. Druids are powerful creatures and he has every available one defending the keep. Cirith wouldn’t let me die again, not after doing all that work to save me.”

  She scowled up at him, her pout both amusing and alluring simultaneously. Sighing, Raethin glanced at the others then said, “I promise you that I will make it through the night. In the morning, I’ll come get you from the keep and we’ll have breakfast together.”

  “You swear to the gods?”

  “I swear to Theron.” He crossed his fingers, smiling when she rolled her eyes.

  Raethin spent the rest of daylight with them, keeping close to Ara. Together, they talked about old times and Arlow told his stories of his earlier years, when he went on misadventures with friends in his hometown. Raethin exchanged his own childhood memories. They ate dinner before the druids began corralling them to the keep.

  He followed them out of the guests’ quarters after changing into armor, his looking distinctly like Cirith’s.

  Ara eyed his attire, a strange look glazing over briefly before she turned away. When it was time to separate, the princess turned back toward him and flung her arms around him.

  Sniffling, she squeezed tightly and said, “I swear if this doesn’t go right then I’ll skin you.”

  A chuckle caught in his throat as he nodded and hugged her.

  “I swear, we’ll live to see the morning.”

  “We better.”

  ♦♦♦

  When dusk fell upon the fortress, Ara sat inside the shrine with Misandreas, Nyphelia, and a cloister of druid mages. Above her stood a hundred druids, alert and rigid as they waited for the next command. Druid children sat huddled together, the youngest unaware of the solemnity that fell upon their older siblings.

  Vilithian stood among those mages clustered at the entrance of the keep, surveying the flood of warriors that filled the surrounding ground and the cloisters of druids that walked behind Cirith and Raethin as they traveled across the bridge.

  Cirith motioned at the warriors and they fell back, settling onto the bridge as they watched the two Great Spirits approach the barrier at the bridge’s edge.

  The two halted feet before the barrier, eying the quiet forest on the other side. Cirith crossed his arms, quiet as a hush fell across the people of the keep.

  Raethin stood beside him, his stomach tightening as he thought of Ara. He begged the gods for this night to end peacefully.

  A heat stirred in his chest, anticipation filling his veins.

  Minutes drew out, slowly inching toward an hour. The druids stirred. Anxiety weighed down every soul hovering in wait.

  As the moon crept above the forest’s horizon, its light peeking over the trees, a being stirred in the darkness. Alone, bright crimson eyes pierced through the black of night, growing as the creature crept forward.

  Aeskrius cut through streaming moonlight, catching Raethin’s stare and smiling.

  Raethin shuttered, gripping Cirith’s shoulder as they realized simultaneously that Aeskrius could see through the ward.

  The demon halted yards away from the barrier. His lips pulled back, sanguine, and malicious.

  “Quite a reception you’ve made for me, Cirith,”

  Aeskrius said. His soft tone carried evenly through the air.

  Cirith stiffened.

  “Let me guess,” the demon continued. “You’ve housed the Heir below, with your secret?”

  Raethin scowled, his fingers clenching into fists.

  “I expected this.” Aeskrius sauntered forward a few more steps, peering through the ward. His crimson gaze trailed across the druids. “But you know my terms. You hand me the uncrowned queen and I will leave this place.

  You can keep your secret to yourself for a little longer.”

  “And if we don’t?” Cirith retorted finally. Everyone stiffened as the demon stilled, his liquid gaze turning to hardened ruby as he looked at the Guardian.

  Silence hung briefly.

  Aeskrius deliberated his words, void of emotion. “I know you’re protecting more than just a fallen princess and a stone statue, Cirith. I can feel every little heartbeat puttering away in your little haven. I can scent the fear wafting in the air.” Aeskrius drew in a deep breath. “It’s intoxicating, the stench of terror and trepidation. Their blood pumps quickly in their veins as their hearts thunder. The void children lie in wait for the moment your little wall crumbles. Crimson blood is the essence of the Void’s survival in this physical realm, but emerald blood is a delicacy and amplifies our magick.”

  When Cirith did not respond, Aeskrius grinned.

  “Your people would be spared if you sacrificed one person to us, Cirith.”

  Dread settled over Raethin as he glanced at Cirith. He caught the Guardian’s expression from the side and saw actual contemplation.

  Raethin stiffened, casting another look at Aeskrius.

  “It takes one betrayal, Cirith,” Aeskrius continued. “And you can keep your statue lover as consolation.”

  Cirith leaned against a pillar looming from the bridge’s fence.

  “Well,” the Guardian muttered, gold eyes glinting.

  “Go on then. Show us what you’ll do.”

  Disbelief crossed Aeskrius’s expression before it hardened once more. Slowly, the demon stepped toward the ward, until he was within a breath’s length from its shimmering surface. He remained silent as he eyed Cirith then twisted to Raethin, his sanguine smile inching back into his black lips.

  Behind him, crimson dots peppered the darkness as demons peeked through the trees and underbrush.

  “How is the princess?”

  Raethin said nothing and they all watched as the demon sighed. His shoulders rolled, wings stretching as he paced beside the ward.

  “So, you plan to wait me out?” Aeskrius sneered, his teeth bright in the moonlight.

  Still, they stood silently, hundreds of eyes within the ward watching as Aeskrius paced impatiently.

  “But you expect me to do something,” the demon mused aloud. “That’s why you have everyone prepared for an invasion. Do you expect me to break the ward?”

  “Obviously, we would rather you not,” Solas snapped from behind Cirith, his own patience wearing thin. Cirith shot him a look and the elder stilled, pouting in silenc
e.

  “Ah.” Aeskrius bobbed his head, rubbing his neck in thought. Then his finger whipped up, pointing at the two Spirits. “You think that because I am the Void’s Champion, I will be able to break the ward.”

  The two remained silent. Dread slithered into Raethin’s gut as Aeskrius barked a laugh and settled against a twisted stump, his wings cloaking his back like a cape.

  More crimson eyes peppered the darkness. The druids behind Cirith and Raethin shifted uncomfortably as the many dots filled the forest surrounding the ward.

  A collective chuckle slithered out from the quiet forest.

  “Let me prove it then.” Aeskrius hummed as he sliced a talon across his palm. Black blood welled and spilled to the forest floor. Cirith’s and Raethin’s scowled at the putrid scent, gripping their swords’ hilts as the demon pressed his bloodied palm against the ward.

  Its surface quivered, and the putrid scent quickly shifted into the smell of burning flesh. Vibrant energy sparked off the ward as Aeskrius pushed against it, and soon his palm’s flesh push through.

  Cirith blurred, his sword already drawn, and lunged.

  Aeskrius’ hand made it through as Cirith’s blade arched.

  The demon caught the blade in his palm and wrenched.

  Raethin ran for Cirith, grabbing his arm to pull him back into the safety of the ward. But as the Guardian fell through the barrier, he shifted and maneuvered away from the demon. His sword sliced out of Aeskrius’s hold, and Cirith turned to jump back through.

  Aeskrius stood between Cirith and the ward. Teeth clenched, Raethin withdrew his own sword and lunged, the blade narrowing to the demon’s back.

  Shadows shifted around the demon and the blade met air. A claw latched around Raethin’s arm and pulled, towing him outside the barrier. Another claw latched onto Raethin’s neck.

  “I see your Spirit isn’t awake,” Aeskrius muttered in his ear. “But you smell of deity blood.”

  Raethin wrenched his arm free and slammed his head back. Aeskrius shifted, avoiding a bashing to his face, and lifted the elf.

  A familiar scene played out: Raethin, his body hefted into the air only by the Kaevari’s claw. But this time, he was stronger. As the demon said, gold blood now flowed in his veins. He pulled at the claws, wrenching a talon free.