Curse Breaker Omnibus

by Melinda Kucsera

  Every jab, kick, and thrust of his captive went right through him. The faceless man was a shadow. Only his skeletal hand remained corporeal, and it kept squeezing until she passed out.

  “Checkmate,” said the faceless man, offering the irate Queen of All Trees a sickle smile.

  An inhuman bellow shook the cavern. Villar dove for cover as chunks of the ceiling fell, and the Queen of All Trees rammed her thousand-foot tall body into a space one-tenth her size. She bent her gleaming trunk double but doing so cut down her effective range leaving her open to attack.

  “Having mass problems? Too bad there are no Litherians left to invite you in.” The faceless man shook his head. “This is pathetic. You can't even put up a proper fight while I've got your human avatar.” He waved his captive about and the gleaming strings still clenched in her fist made the corpses dance.

  Villar shuddered at the sight then flattened himself as more tentacles shot out of the pit. There were too many to count, and they stabbed the Queen of All Trees while she tried in vain to reach the faceless man and his captive. He floated to the pit’s center, dragging the corpses attached to his captive closer to the edge.

  “Ah, ah, ah, you know what’s down there. You know what it’ll do to those bound to her.”

  The hooded man plucked one of the luminous threads radiating off the woman dangling from his hand. A nearby body jerked. It flopped around as the faceless man tugged its thread then a slender arm shot out of the black mist. The faceless man let go of the tie binding it to his captive, and the severed arm dropped back into the gloom.

  He smiled and held the Queen of Shayari over the pit. One false move and she would fall.

  “I’ll drop her. Then we can all go down into the pit.” He threw his head back and laughed as if he’d made a joke.

  Villar shuddered and looked to the Queen of All Trees, willing her to do something. But she was wedged tight. If she could only make herself smaller, she’d have room to fight. But how could such an awesome being reduce herself enough to be effective?

  Maybe she didn't have to. A single root poked out of the ground and slithered up a severed torso to the fine white cord rising out of a hole in its chest. The root was hair-thin and almost invisible against the flickering thread it climbed. What could so small a thing hope to do against such a foe?

  Villar shoved such defeatist thoughts aside. The two Queens must triumph. His life and the lives of everyone else under the mountain depended on it, and the Queen of All Trees was gambling everything on that root. It must reach the limp hand of the Queen of Shayari.

  “Hey you, catch.”

  Villar lobbed a rock at the faceless man's shoulder. It missed, of course, but it drew the faceless man's attention away from the Queen of All Trees and called his bluff.

  “Who said that?”

  The faceless man firmed his grip when a tentacle shot past him. He had no intention of dropping his captive.

  His cold eyes sought Villar, but he'd already dropped behind a stalagmite.

  So, the faceless man wasn't omniscient. That was comforting. Villar dodged a tentacle that got past the Queen of All Trees' guard. Her ravaged crown blocked most of the cavern. Every blow showered more of her shriveling leaves on the ground, and they crunched underfoot. But that root kept climbing, unseen by the author of their misery.

  Maybe they had a chance. After all, both Queens were magical. And there was nothing they couldn't do.

  The kid asked a good question. Where the hell is that thing taking us? Bear materialized beside Sarn and hauled him back from an unexpected edge.

  But the crystal pendant pulled at its leather leash refusing to be deterred by a collapsed tunnel. Its terminus pointed at a wall of glowing silver whorls on the other side of that two-hundred-foot long hole.

  It only took Sarn a moment to figure out what he was staring at, but the reality of it refused to sink in.

  “That can't be who I think it is.” Because the last time he'd seen her, she’d fit. Sarn shook his head in disbelief.

  “What is that?” Ran looked to Bear for an answer.

  Bear cocked his head to one side, but that didn't improve the view. Her roots were hundreds of feet below thanks to the collapse, but her crown was wedged into the other side of this tunnel. The Queen of All Trees, I think. Though, I've never seen her like this.

  “Why doesn't she shrink down to fit? She did before.”

  Though she'd had mass problems then too. How had she managed it?

  She shouldn't even be able to manifest inside the mountain at all. The Litherians weren't her biggest fans. They warded this place to keep her out.

  “But she came when I called her.”

  I'm still shocked she could. You must have done something to get her around their wards.

  Sarn waved away their discussion. “It doesn't matter. She helped us. Now we have to help her.”

  “Are you sure that's the Queen Tree? She looks different.” Ran tilted his head, but the new angle only deepened his scowl.

  “What makes you say that?”

  Ran shrugged. Once again, his uncanny insight exceeded his understanding.

  “So how do we help her?”

  You do whatever you did before. It worked once, it should work a second time. But—Bear held up a cautionary paw. If you do that, then whatever she's dealing with will be able to get to us. So be ready to run. You aren't indestructible.

  “Neither is she. Can you jump us to safety?”

  No, we're close to where that black mist originated, and it's draining me fast. Bear's shoulders drooped.

  Danger, warned Sarn’s magic, and for a moment, his map tried to form. Before it disintegrated, a red symbol burned itself into his retinas. It was a dragon mantling over a ball with an uncountable number of squiggles radiating out of it. No, oh, Fates no—it was the sigil of the Ægeldar.

  Why would the Queen of All Trees go there? Just thinking of that benighted place made Sarn’s skin crawl.

  Eam’eritol neem’eye, whispered his magic, and a gray arrow pointed at what lay beyond his struggling Queen.

  I must help her—even if that means entering the Ægeldar itself. Sarn shuddered at the thought, but he was out of options. So, he squared his shoulders and faced Bear.

  “That's the Ægeldar, isn't it? That's where the black lumir is.” Sarn gestured to the darkness seeping around their Queen.

  Bear nodded. That would be my guess.

  “What's an ‘Ægeldar?”’ Ran asked. His furrowed brow signaled he was still working out what was different about the Queen of All Trees.

  Sarn considered giving his arms a break and putting his son down. But Ran's head shake and the mist eddying around his ankles dissuaded him.

  An old world monster. Bear winked at Ran. Ask me later when we're somewhere safe, and I'll tell you about Dryskellions, dragons and the Ægeldar.

  Ran gave Bear a skeptical look. “You promise?”

  Of course, we spirit bears always keep our promises.

  “We?” Sarn glanced at the ghost. Was he about to get some answers about the secretive spirit? Now wasn't the time or place to find out how his son had befriended the ghost, but—I need to know.

  Before Sarn could ask a follow-up question, Bear pointed. If you're going to do something, you'd better do it now. She's not invincible.

  The Queen of All Trees’ bark dimmed. That foul black mist was flowing down her trunk and pooling around her roots far, far below. But it didn't stay down there. As the level of the mist rose, it spawned shadowy tentacles and scaled the chasm, heading straight for them.

  Sarn took an involuntary step backward, but the pendant jerked him toward the edge and his Queen. The ground shook as the Queen of All Trees rammed her trunk into an aperture one-tenth of her size, shaking the cavern.

  Rocks fell. Sarn dodged them as best he could despite the pendant pulling him toward the crumbling edge. If only the black mist hadn't stolen so much of his green magic, he could have jumped that gulf.<
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  Maybe he still could. There was still magic hunkered down inside him, and it was as silver as the Queen of All Trees' bark.

  “Hold tight to me,” Sarn said to his son as he shifted the boy so Ran clung to his back. “Really tight, okay?”

  “Why? Oh, you're doing magic now.” Ran firmed his grip. He was ready for whatever Sarn had in mind.

  When the hail of stones ceased, Sarn backed up and took a running leap off the precipice. Come on white magic—help me, help her.

  Since Ran had inherited his love of heights, he smiled when they went airborne. But the white magic didn’t take this opportunity to manifest. It remained barricaded.

  When their momentum petered out less than halfway across the chasm, they plummeted toward a riot of sparkling roots far, far below and a roiling darkness. His cloak flared around him, but it didn't have enough surface area to slow his fall.

  No, no, no, this can't be happening. I never fall. But he was falling now, and there was no magic softening the ground rising to meet him. Neither did he have any control over his descent, and that was just wrong.

  “Papa!” Ran's terrified shout slapped Sarn hard. Bear was right. Without his magic, he was slow and stupid.

  “I never fall.”

  The reality of their situation refused to dawn. It just wasn't possible. He always had control. As a child, he’d leaped from roof to roof with his brother clinging to his back—just as his son was doing now.

  Why wasn't his other magic fueling his jump? Helping the Queen of All Trees before hadn't depleted it.

  I never fall. The thought repeated as their descent picked up speed. And the white magic finally poked its head out of its den, but it still didn't manifest.

  We never fall, it affirmed. We always land precisely where we mean to.

  Sarn gaped. His magic didn't speak in full sentences, and it was never this direct. It was also correct. Since he was younger than his son, he'd jumped off everything in his path and landed where he chose.

  Its piece said, the white magic retreated to its den and sealed itself in again.

  His pendant jerked upward. The leather thong should have slipped over his head and rose free of him, but it didn't. Its white nimbus increased until it enclosed them.

  A graying root rushed up to meet them, and Sarn struck it at just the right angle. He and his son flew out of the chasm, but they overshot the precipice. Sarn caught hold of an overhang and dropped down next to the Queen of All Trees.

  Darkness pounced on Sarn the instant he landed. It rushed into his nose and mouth, seeking the magic hidden in his core. But that amorphous thief couldn't reach it. The white magic was secure in its den with the remnants of his green magic but—

  Oh, no, Ran! Sarn coughed and choked on foul air as he struggled to get clear of that suffocating mist. He clutched his son and scrambled awkwardly up a pile of rubble, hoping his son was okay. His damned cloak caught on every protrusion, slowing his progress.

  When Sarn surfaced, he checked his coughing son.

  “Are you okay?”

  Ran nodded then leaned his head against the two flames burning inside Sarn—a surly white one and behind it, a shrunken green one. Neither looked pleased with him right now. They leaned toward Ran and the tiny flame bobbing inside his son.

  Sarn stared, flabbergasted by the sight. His son's nascent gift was a pale green—a perfect blending of the two magics Sarn possessed. And he just wanted it to go away.

  I'm not ready to deal with this. I can barely handle my own magic. Sarn held his son while his thoughts spun in a scared circle. Maybe Ran's magic would take a long while to develop. Years would be great. Decades would be even better.

  “I don't like the black stuff. It's so cold.” Ran shivered and curled into him in search of warmth. His statement knocked Sarn out of his spiraling worries in time to dodge a rising wave of that damned black mist.

  It washed over the Queen of All Trees momentarily hiding her glow. She thrashed and widened the hole, tumbling more rocks upon them. Sarn tried to evade them but one struck his shoulder, missing his son by a hair.

  “I can't help you if you knock this section of tunnel down.”

  The Queen of All Trees stilled. She'd heard him, and now she was waiting for that promised help. But—

  How did I get around wards I didn't know existed? “What did I do before?” Sarn searched his memory for an answer.

  The Queen of All Trees’ silver bark bristled with dimming filaments. One by one, they winked out while Sarn stood there. Even doused, they angled toward him, inviting his touch. And he was freeing a hand to touch them.

  Ran removed his thumb from his mouth so he could talk. “You believed in her.”

  “Yes, I did.” Sarn smiled his thanks for the reminder. “And I believe in her now. She can do anything, go anywhere there's trouble or people in danger.”

  ‘Go anywhere.’ As those two words floated in the air between them, Sarn’s hand made contact, and white light poured out of him into his Queen. There was an audible pop as the Queen of All Trees shrank, raining silver motes on his bemused son. Ran stuck out his hand to catch them, but like snowflakes, they melted on his palm.

  Bear shouted something—a warning likely. But the pendant yanked Sarn into the choking mist pouring out of the tunnel. He staggered, feeling strangely disconnected from his body. His feet moved him through the mist, but Sarn couldn’t feel them, or the coughing fit doubling him up. As he dropped to his knees, Sarn let go of his son. The mist spawned shadowy tentacles, and they probed for his magic. But he couldn’t feel that either.

  “Papa? Papa, what’s wrong?” Ran shook his shoulder.

  “I don’t feel so well.”

  Sarn threw out a hand to catch himself as the world spun around him. Blood dripped out of his nose and tickled his lips, but he couldn’t scrounge up the energy to wipe it away.

  His stomach growled like a caged beast, and his throat was sandpaper—so dry and thirsting for something—anything—to drink. When was the last time he'd eaten or drank anything? When had he fed his son last?

  “I want to go home. This is a bad place.” Ran pushed against his shoulder, and Sarn swayed. “I want to go home! Papa, get up.”

  “I don’t think I can.”

  “Bear?” Ran turned his head to look for their ghostly companion and his eyes widened. “Papa—” Ran raised a shaking finger and pointed. “Who’s she?”

  “What?” Sarn looked where his son pointed and forced his eyes and mind to focus.

  They occupied a wide precipice beyond which, a huge pit yawned. It must be a half a mile across if not more. Man-sized rock formations ringed the chasm in a rude parody of the twin circles of menhirs surrounding Mount Eredren. In the center of that chasm, a hooded man floated holding a limp, shining woman by the scruff of her neck.

  Sarn’s vision had always been sharp. When his crystal pendant passed in front of his eyes, the woman’s face snapped into perfect clarity. His mouth dropped open in shock.

  “Mother?” Sarn extended the hand not holding him up toward her. But it was impossible. That woman couldn’t be his mother. She died when he was nine.

  “You!” shouted a familiar voice, but Sarn couldn’t tear his fading sight away from the woman. Was distance—or magic—playing tricks on his eyes?

  “This is all your fault!”

  Before Sarn could place the speaker, a body slammed into him and he went down, crushed under a man who outweighed him by more than a hundred pounds.

  Ran yelped but managed to get clear of the fight. Of course, his darling boy didn’t stay in the clear.

  “Bear help us! Save Papa!” Ran shouted before he dove into the fray heedless of the danger to his small, fragile body.

  Sarn fought to stay conscious, but two meaty hands were choking him in an eerie repeat of last month's storeroom tussle. And he couldn't feel anything—not the body crushing the breath from his lungs, nor the large man's attempts to buck off the child pummeling him. No
t the foul mist rolling over and through him dragging behind it unrelieved darkness—he was numb to everything except his son's anguished shouts.

  Go, Ran, flee. Get away from here—Sarn wanted to say, but the words couldn’t pass his constricted throat. Everything was fading to black.

  Hope Hangs by a Root

  Keep going, you're almost there. Villar urged the root creeping toward the Queen of Shayari. It had only three-feet to go. He rolled behind a boulder, but a tentacle rammed it, and it crumbled. Villar dove behind a massive silver branch rising to pinion the oncoming tentacle.

  He poked his head out of cover just as the root reached its goal. It twined around the brilliant threads and the Queen of Shayari’s wrist. She vanished into a white flare and reappeared, cradled by the Queen of All Trees’ branches. She was safe, and slowly regaining consciousness.

  “Shayari.”

  As the name of his country and its first Queen echoed through the Ægeldar, the Queen of Shayari flickered. One moment, she was a human-sized copy of the Queen of All Trees right down to her coiled roots, and the next, she was a woman clothed in lace and light, wearing a crown of stars. She bled from scores of wounds, and tears fell from her diamond-chip eyes. She was determined to destroy the Ægeldar or die trying.

  But the Queen of All Trees held her against her scarred bark and a white flash blinded Villar. When he could see again, there was only one gleaming tree, the Queen of All Trees.

  Why did I think there were two? Villar scratched his head at such a bizarre notion. Everyone knew there was only one Queen of Shayari, the Queen of All Trees, and she was just a myth. Though not anymore since he kept catching glimpses of her.

  How had she gotten in here? Shouldn’t I remember a giant tree stuffing itself into a cavern one-tenth its size? Villar rubbed his tearing eyes, but a black afterimage remained. I must have hit my head when Dirk struck that rock earlier.

  Oh, God, Dirk! Villar blinked desperate to clear his sight. Was his friend lying hurt, or worse, dead somewhere in the mysterious knee-high gloom blanketing the ground?