The Zero Curse

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  The yawn crept up and took me by surprise. I leaned against the wall for a long moment, then slowly walked back to the bedroom. I’d prepared most of the potions I’d need, but the remaining elements would have to be put together on the spot. And if I was wrong ... I’d be in deep trouble. But there was no reason to hope for ransom. Fairuza and her unknown superior had more to gain from using me than selling me back to my family.

  And they won’t return Rose and Akin either, I thought, numbly. I sneaked back into the bedroom and checked Rose. She was still sleeping, snoring loudly. I felt a flicker of envy, combined with fear. I was too valuable to kill and Akin was too dangerous to kill - his family might notice his death - but Rose was useless. Her only value lay in supervising me ...

  And if they catch us trying to escape, they might decide to be a little stricter, I thought, grimly. Rose would become expendable.

  I shuddered as I crawled into bed, silently promising myself that I’d do everything in my power to get Rose out. She’d tried to stop me from allowing my emotions to guide me ... and she’d been right. And she was the one most at risk. Fairuza could order her to hurt – or kill – herself, and she would obey. I just couldn't save her unless I got her out before it was too late.

  And it is worth the risk, I told myself, firmly. Whatever the risk, I have to take it.

  Rose was shaking me, a second later. I started, utterly confused. Rose ...? I must have dozed off. What time was it? It felt like I hadn't slept at all. How long had I been asleep? I wasn't sure.

  “It’s morning,” Rose said. She reached out and touched my forehead. “You feel hot.”

  I groaned. My head felt thick as well as hot, a grim reminder that I really hadn't had enough sleep. I’d never been any more likely to get sick than my sisters - my mother had dosed us all with potion whenever something started going around - but now ...? I shuddered, fighting down the urge to retch. Maybe I’d accidentally swallowed something I shouldn't have, or breathed in the wrong fumes. Or ... I remembered the sleeping potion and scowled. I might have accidentally poisoned myself.

  “Bad dreams,” I said, sitting upright. “Can you pass me a glass of water?”

  Rose shot me a grateful look - I’d worded it as a request - and headed for the bathroom. I kept my eyes firmly fixed on the bed, breathing hard. I couldn't get ill, not now. If Fairuza called for a qualified healer, he might find traces of the sleeping potion in my blood and then ... Fairuza would ask questions. Neither Rose or Akin would have the answers, but it wouldn't matter. She’d keep digging until she found out the truth and then ...

  ... I didn't want to know.

  Rose came back, carrying a glass in one hand. I took it and sipped gratefully. Water would help, I thought. It would certainly be better than asking Fairuza for a painkilling potion or something else. I could brew one for myself, or get Akin to brew it for me, but even that would be risky. Fairuza would probably be informed.

  “That’s better,” I said, slowly. “Thank you.”

  I touched my forehead. There was a sheen of cold sweat on my forehead. I rubbed it gently, then climbed out of bed. My legs felt unsteady, but I made it to the washroom without incident. Rose watched, silently, as I splashed water on my face. I wanted a shower - or a hot bath - but I doubted I had the time. Akin was probably waiting for us already.

  Breakfast was already waiting when we stumbled into the workroom. Bacon, eggs, freshly-baked bread ... it confirmed Rose’s suspicion, I supposed, that we were near a farm. I took heart from that, even though there was no way to know if the farmers were friendly. My family could offer enough money to raise a farming family into the nobility. If nothing else, they’d be able to alert the Kingsmen.

  Akin smiled at me as we ate our eggs. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Bad dreams,” I said, tartly. I didn't dare say anything that might be misinterpreted - or interpreted all too well. “How about you?”

  He looked down at his food. I didn't blame him. We were prisoners. We couldn't afford to forget it. Playing chess and chatting about nothing was meaningless, when our lives could be ended at any moment. I would sooner have been in jail. There was something honest about a jail cell.

  But you’ve never been in a jail cell, I reminded myself. Alana had locked me in a room once, but it hadn't been quite the same. A jail might be worse.

  I sighed. I really could have enjoyed spending all my time in a workroom, if I hadn't been a prisoner. But I was a prisoner.

  The door opened. Fairuza stepped into the room. She looked disgustingly fresh and alert, as if she’d just had a good night’s sleep, a shower and a hearty breakfast. I felt a flash of pure hatred, mingled with bitter rage. I could break the spells on my friends - now - but Fairuza wouldn't have any trouble stopping them in their tracks. I’d seen enough to know she was a powerful magician. The only way to stop her would be to take her by surprise.

  “I have a special task for you today,” she said. She held out a scroll. “I want you to make this potion.”

  I scanned the recipe, then blanched. I’d seen it before, in one of Mum’s old books. The Thousand-Year Empire had devised it to knock down city walls - heavily-warded city walls - but the secret of its production had been lost long ago. And yet ... I knew, now, that the potion needed someone without magic to make it. I could do it. Akin - and Mum - couldn't get through a third of the recipe without causing an explosion.

  “I could bring down the building,” I said, carefully. “This could go wrong ...”

  “Not if you brew the potion,” Fairuza said. “And you will, won’t you?”

  I looked at her, nervously. There was no use for the potion, but widespread devastation. I wouldn't want to be anywhere near the potion when someone lit a match and tossed it into the liquid. It would burn down Aguirre Hall, or Rubén Hall, or even Tintagel Castle itself. And then ... it would keep burning until it had consumed all the magic in the vicinity. I couldn't do it.

  “You will,” Fairuza said. She pointed a finger at Rose, who cringed back. The geas wouldn't even let her defend herself. “Or do I have to take steps to make you?”

  “I will,” I said. “But they have to keep their distance.”

  Fairuza nodded, slowly. “Very well,” she said. She placed a small bell on the table. “Summon me when you are done. And have fun.”

  I kept my face impassive. It would take a day - perhaps two days - to brew the potion. It was a very complex piece of work. And then ...

  I shook my head. We couldn't let her take something so dangerous to her superiors. We had to move. There was no longer any time to plan. I’d have to put the escape plan into action and hope for the best.

  And if we fail to get out before the potion is ready, I told myself, she’ll unleash a nightmare.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The potion looked deceptively simple.

  I felt sweat running down my face as I watched the multicoloured liquid bubbling over the stove. It might have looked simple, but it was anything but. I had to prepare multiple cauldrons of various potions, all within a very short space of time. And I couldn't even brew each of the liquids separately, then use freeze charms to keep them in stasis until I was ready for them. They couldn't touch active magic without either going bad or exploding.

  “I’m going to need more room,” I said. The third cauldron was changing colour now, shifting from green to brown. I could see sparks within the mucky liquid ... I hoped that was normal. No one had brewed this potion successfully for hundreds of years. “Can you push the table into place, then get into the back room?”

  Akin looked doubtful. I didn't really blame him. The geas demanded that he let me work, but it also insisted that he had to keep an eye on me. Moving the table would force him and Rose into the back room, where they couldn't watch me. But there was no choice. A magician who stood too close to the cauldrons would trigger an explosion.

  My calculations suggested that the resulting blast, combined with the potion’s magic, would
be more than enough to destroy the Royal Palace of Tintagel. Fairuza wasn't being careless, leaving me alone. I had a potion that could take out the entire building - wherever we were - at the cost of killing everyone, including myself. She knew I’d never kill my friends.

  And she was smart enough to leave as soon as I started, I thought. My body ached with the memory of just how long I’d been working on the potion. She just left us a bell to call her when we were done.

  “Hurry,” I said, as the liquid bubbled furiously. “I need this away from the other cauldrons.”

  Akin hurried to do as he was told. I breathed a sigh of relief - Fairuza really should have left me completely alone, although she wasn't that foolish - as he put the table into place, then slipped into the backroom. He left the door open so he could watch me, but it didn't matter any longer. He couldn't come into the room without risking an explosion.

  If nothing else, the geas will have problems deciding how to react, I thought. I didn't think the spell was that clever, particularly if it had been forced on an unwilling victim. It wouldn’t know what to do if it was faced with an unanticipated problem or a conflict between two different sets of orders. He might be unable to move until it was too late.

  I hoped that was true as I moved from cauldron to cauldron, inspecting the liquid. The timer ticked, counting down the last few minutes. I wiped my brow, cursing the original alchemists under my breath. What sort of mind would see potential in such a brew, let alone work their way through the thousands of variants? Mum had been known to mutter that some of the ancients must have been insane. I was starting to think she was right. Who could possibly have imagined that such a complex potion was workable?

  They knew more than we did about alchemy, I reminded myself. The stories talked of potions and magics well beyond anything we knew. Flying machines were the least of them. They must have understood alchemy at a far greater level.

  I wiped my forehead and took a breath. The air smelled funny, a sickly-sweet smell that made me feel unwell. I forced myself to breathe through my mouth, wishing I’d had the foresight to don a mask. I could have asked for one too, I was sure. Fairuza had been quite accommodating with everything I said I needed, save for freedom. She hadn't let me out of the suite since I’d arrived.

  Which would have told me more about where I was, I thought. I’d tried hard to keep track of the days, but I honestly wasn't sure just how long I’d been a prisoner. Maybe three to four weeks, perhaps. Akin had found my makeshift calendar and hexed me. We just don’t know what is on the other side of the door.

  I eyed the door grimly, knowing I didn't have time to wait any longer. I had to get out - and take the others with me. And I couldn't rely on them, not as long as they were enchanted ... I cursed Fairuza, once again. Perhaps using my friends as jailers was a sign of weakness, a sign that she really didn’t have many people working for her. Or perhaps it was just a ruthlessly practical solution to a problem. Even Magister Tallyman would have problems telling the difference between the work I’d been forced to do for my captors and my escape plan.

  Putting two more cauldrons on the table, I rapidly filled them with ingredients and lit the stoves. It didn't need magic, not yet. If I’d done my work properly, the two potions wouldn't need magic at all. And if I hadn't ... I eyed the potions in the cauldrons, nervously. A misjudgement now would get us all killed.

  The timer rang, loudly. I jumped, then scrambled to the first cauldron and tipped its contents into the second. The liquid blazed with white light, then faded back into a simmering blue. It looked beautiful, I thought, as I reached for the third cauldron and started to pour it into the second. Steam exploded upwards, making me swear as I took a step backwards. Mum would have exploded - with rage, I hoped - if she’d heard my language. If I’d made a mistake ...

  There was a final flare of light, then the liquid subsidised into a viscous oily fluid. I let out a sigh of relief as I checked it carefully, before pouring it all into a fourth cauldron and putting it on a table of its own. I’d fudged the figures a little - just to keep Akin and Rose out of the workroom - but I couldn’t help eying it nervously. I wasn't sure what would happen if I took the spellcasters too close to the cauldron and I didn't want to find out the hard way.

  I sat on the chair, fighting to gather my breath. It had worked, barely. The first stage was completed, the second stage was on the way. Whoever had come up with the recipe must have had more than one Zero under his command, I decided. I’d worked myself ragged trying to brew all the different components on my own. I hoped - prayed - that Dad would find another Zero soon enough, if only so I had assistance. But it would take years to train my new partner up ...

  And what, a little voice asked at the back of my head, if you’re truly unique?

  I shivered. What if I was a throwback to some long-gone past, when magic wasn't universal? What if ... what if I was just a freak? What if I was truly alone?

  The second timer rang. I sprang to my feet and hurried over to the next set of cauldrons, pushing my thoughts to the back of my mind. The three liquids had to be mixed together, but in a precise order ... I checked my notes, just to be sure that I knew what I was doing, then started to empty the first cauldron into the second. This time, there was no flash of light, just a faint shimmer as the two liquids blended together. I reached for the stirrer and stirred carefully, unsure what was going to happen. Nothing did, as far as I could tell. It was inert ...

  It’s meant to be inert, I reminded myself. I’d done my best to work out how all the different ingredients interacted, but ... I wasn't sure I’d done my calculations correctly. Mum would have done a better job, I felt. She’d have checked and rechecked everything obsessively before letting me get to work, if she’d let me brew the potion in the first place. She certainly wouldn't have wanted to brew it anywhere near the family hall.

  I kept stirring, carefully counting the stirs. Fifty-one stirs; no more, no less. It was a precise infusion of magic, so precise that no one short of a Potions Master could have hoped to muster it. I wondered, idly, if I was cheating. The stirrers I’d designed made it so much easier to measure the infusion, assuming - of course - that I had magic.

  Or a source of magic ... the wretched question nagged at my mind, again. Where did the power come from?

  The third cauldron bubbled, loudly. I poured the contents into the second, stirring rapidly to mix the liquids together. It shimmered for a long moment, then turned an eerie green colour that made my head hurt. The smell changed too, turning into something foul and thoroughly unpleasant. I gritted my teeth, resisting the urge to stagger backwards and retch loudly. If I moved away from the cauldron before the liquid was ready, everything I’d done would be wasted. I didn't want to start from scratch ...

  We really need to find help, I thought. Akin’s idea of humanoid automations might have potential, if they didn’t need magic to run. But it’s just a matter of chance.

  I raised my voice. “I’m going to do the final step now,” I called. “Stay as far from the door as you can.”

  Akin’s voice was strangled. “Will do!”

  I winced in sympathy. The geas was pulling him in two directions at once. Rose had it easier, I supposed. She simply didn't know enough to fear what I might do, if left unobserved for long enough to forge something dangerous. But Akin didn't know I’d already prepared most of my tools. He clearly assumed - and the geas would read it in his mind - that I wouldn't have had enough time to prepare something he couldn't handle.

  And he would be right too, I admitted sourly. All someone has to do to keep me prisoner is tie me up or throw me into a locked and empty cell.

  I sighed. Being kidnapped had proved a learning experience - and a grim reminder of my own vulnerability. All young magicians learnt basic cantrips for untying knots and opening locks, but I couldn't make them work.

  “Be careful,” Rose said. She’d watched as I’d done the calculations. She knew how dangerous the potion was, even though I
’d done my best to exaggerate the dangers ... insofar as that was possible. Thankfully, Akin hadn’t taken a close look at the figures. “Don’t get us all blown up.”

  “I won’t,” I promised. Rose had good reason to remember the last time I’d made a potion explode. “Just stay well away from the danger zone.”

  “We will,” Akin said. “And you tell us what you’re doing.”

  “I don’t think I can do two things at once,” I said. Mum had told me never to multitask when I was brewing. “The potion needs all my concentration.”

  I contemplated the possibilities of disaster for a long moment, then lifted up the full cauldron and carried it over to the one I’d made earlier. The steam grew stronger, but nothing else happened. I braced myself, then picked up a ladle and lowered a precise amount of the first fluid into the second. There was a bright shimmer, then nothing but steam. We hadn't reached critical mass, not yet. I nodded - my calculations had said as much - then ladled two more spoonfuls into the second cauldron. Things started to happen as soon as the third ladleful was lowered into the liquid.