Curse Breaker Omnibus

by Melinda Kucsera

  Aralore kicked a downed tree in frustration. It moaned and that just made her angrier. What right did a giant plant have to complain? Where were your vaunted rules when my sister needed help? Why didn’t you save her?

  Horns called in the distance—hunting horns. Aralore clawed her way up a boulder. Where are you?

  A wizened branch pawed the earth as the downed tree tried to crawl away. Aralore nudged the box with her foot until a black ray sheared off the offending branch.

  Beyond the devastation encircling her, more enchanted trees stood, refusing to be intimidated. A lone horn sounded again in the eerie quiet gripping the area.

  Anger roared deep in her soul staining everything she looked at red—like the blood of her slain sister. Tears pricked Aralore’s eyes. As she spun seeking the horn player, the world faded into a silent night full of winter’s bite.

  Years fell away. Aralore knocked over the box, but she didn’t notice because she was back there, staggering up a hill through deep snow searching for her sister while a horn taunted her.

  Fat snowflakes swirled around Ayoma’s twisted body and her frozen eyes stared skyward from the mirror image of Aralore’s face. Her twin lay dead with a fist-sized hole punched through her chest, and those goddamned trees just stood by and allowed it to happen. I’ll destroy all of you then there’ll be nowhere for the Wild Hunt to hide. I’ll wipe them off the face of Shayari.

  “Preceptor?” Somnya touched Aralore’s shoulder, but she pulled away, not yet ready to let go of her dead sister, her twin.

  But that wintry night was fading back into the recesses of her mind. Aralore seized the box, but it was too heavy to lift. They must pay. I’ll make them all pay for letting my sweet sister die.

  “Preceptor?” Velor stepped in front of her, and she blinked at him.

  “Three rules they have.” Aralore gestured to the enchanted trees standing beyond the mile-wide cleared area as she ticked them off on her fingers. “Start no fires. Do no harm. Carry no weapons. But those rules don’t apply to the Wild Hunt.”

  Another horn joined the first, but it was far off in the distance and getting further away with every passing moment—too far to chase for now.

  “I’ve heard stories of the Wild Hunt.” Somnya perched on a boulder across from Aralore.

  “But you didn’t believe them.” Velor remained standing, but he didn't meet Aralore’s eyes.

  Oh, but he knew the Wild Hunt was more than just a story. Aralore tucked a stray lock behind her ear. Somehow it had escaped the clips confining her hair to a tight braid.

  “In spring, they court both boys and girls. In summer, they seduce. In fall, they lure their lovers into the forest, and in winter, they hunt.” Aralore paused as the image of her dead sister, pale as the snow she lay in, hung between them. “And they do nothing.” She pointed at the distant trees waiting for her to fell them. “Because their rules don’t apply to the Wild Hunt, but not for much longer.”

  Pausing her quiet diatribe, Aralore caught the eyes of each of her acolytes in turn and held their gazes. She must make them understand. “That’s why we’re out here. Our holy mission is to rid our country of a pack of supernatural murdering thugs and the enchanted weeds that give them sanctuary. So no one else will lose a loved one to their machinations.”

  Aralore counted to twenty as the import of her words sunk in. She had them now. The flame of justice kindled in their eyes and fired their souls with determination—at last.

  “The stakes are high. But with this stone,” Aralore stroked the box. “We’ll kill the Wild Hunt and save countless lives. That is our holy commission. God himself demands justice, and we’re the instruments of His Divine Will.”

  Three fading notes drifted on the wind—the perfect accompaniment to her proclamation. Did the Wild Hunt know she was coming? Revel while you can. I will destroy you and scatter your ashes to the four winds.

  Saveen squared his shoulders and his chest puffed out as the gravity of their situation registered. Sarn—his idol—needed his help, and he wasn’t letting a little darkness stop him. Strong, powerful, quiet and kind, Sarn was the best role model anyone could have, and his son made a wonderful playmate.

  Taking a cautious step forward, Saveen blinked until his eyes changed. His human guise peeled away just enough to let the far superior eyes of a dragon peer out. Of course, he was just a baby dragon, one that just happened to be the same size as a human teenager. With a little glamor going, no one noticed except Sarn and his son. Every so often they gave him speculative looks as if they knew something about him was abnormal, but they never commented on it.

  What are you doing, son? Her voice was sleepy with overtones of pain before she hid it. She said she was healing but was she really?

  Helping a friend, Mama.

  The darkness lightened as his eyes pulled in the magic radiating off Sarn in concentric waves and used them to boost his sight. There wasn’t much to see, just miles of rock formations and people.

  Which friend?

  Sarn—the mage—I told you about him. I like his son. We play together often.

  Mama was quiet for a bit, no doubt mulling over his report. She was buried deep under Mount Eredren in an abandoned series of tunnels accessible only if you had stubby wings and could glide across a wide chasm, which Saveen could.

  Getting Sarn there would be hard without telling him things Mama had made him promise not to tell. Doubly so since this tunnel looked familiar. Were they walking in circles? Yes, the Lower Quarters was a maze, but they should have reached a landmark or something by now.

  A magical gag enforced Mama’s wishes when he opened his mouth to confess his nonhuman nature. The words “I’m a baby dragon,” changed en route to his mouth to “are you, all right?” Though ‘are we going in circles’ would have been a better question.

  Sarn staggered like a drunk man into Saveen again and his preternatural eyes picked up the thin line of blood snaking down the long column of his throat. He was pale and sweating and Ran’s worried eyes were fixed on him.

  “I just need to get outside. I think my magic will behave if I can just get away from all the spent lumir crystals.”

  “I can carry Ran for a while.”

  Ran shook his head and continued patting the magic as if he could calm it with a touch. Maybe he could. Ran was an unusual child. “No, I stay with Papa.”

  Don’t come here, Mama said, and her voice echoed in Saveen’s head. He’s not a healer. He can’t help me. It’s better he doesn’t know about us. I know you trust him, but he’s a mage and mages have their own agenda.

  Saveen scowled. Not Sarn, he’s the nicest person I know. He’s always helping people.

  Sarn fell to his knees, breathing hard. He seemed on the verge of a fit. The mage was prone to seizures. Please don’t have one now.

  “Sarn?”

  But Sarn was already passing out. His limbs jerked involuntarily, and his eyes opened and closed, alternatively blinding Saveen with their strobing glow. Ran held tight, screaming for his Papa to get up. But Sarn didn’t respond.

  Oh no, no, no, please don’t have a seizure now. I don’t know what to do. Saveen backed away. Sarn was an amazing person but he had one flaw—he was afflicted by a strange condition.

  People noticed the green light flashing on and off. It was a green beacon in the oppressive darkness and they turned toward it, hands outstretched to take the light they craved.

  “There’s light!” someone shouted, followed by, “get it!” The crowd surged toward them. Saveen almost tripped over Sarn’s long legs as he moved between his friends and the mob. I must protect them.

  “Papa!” Ran clamped both his hands over Sarn’s eyes covering them, but his hands were too small, so enough light leaked out to spur the crowd on. “Help me!”

  Sarn was too big to carry. Even if he was strong enough to try, the young mage was convulsing. Through his fluttering eyes, images projected on the tunnel’s ceiling—curved lines and converging
symbols.

  “What do we do?” Saveen worried his four-digit hands.

  “I don’t know.” Ran bit his lip and a tear rolled down his pale cheek.

  “What is that?” Saveen gestured forgetting his Mama couldn’t see what he was seeing. Before Saveen could elaborate, a bearded man shoved him hard, but Saveen pushed back.

  I don’t know—

  Her mind voice cut off mid-sentence as a dark voice rode the crowd, rallying it. It spoke in a guttural language of grunts that rose from a whisper to a shout, but it was unintelligible.

  “You there! Give us your light!” A hand grasped Saveen’s shoulder and shoved him hard, but he stood his ground.

  “Leave us alone!” Saveen shouted and his bellow shook the tunnel and sifted dust onto their heads.

  But the crowd ignored it. They’d been wandering in darkness since the lumir crystals winked out hours ago and it was wearing on them.

  “Give us your light. We just want to see.”

  “Go away. Leave my Papa alone.”

  A ball whizzed past Saveen’s ear as he tried to stay between the grasping crowd and the downed Sarn. He turned his head and saw Ran draw back his slingshot for another volley then an elbow mashed his nose. Saveen rocked backward from the blow but his tail lashed out, counterbalancing him. He turned and whipped his tail across the front rank of the advancing mob, knocking them down.

  Hopefully, between the flickering light, the general mayhem and the illusion rendering his tail and stubby wings invisible, no one saw anything amiss. Saveen glanced at Ran. The clever boy shoved a metal ball into the green light pouring out of his seizing father then fitted the ball to his slingshot and fired at a cracking stalactite. Some of Sarn’s power must have passed into that ball because it emitted a green flash on contact reducing the stalactite to falling rubble. People screamed as they threw their arms over their heads and backed away, but the determined kept coming.

  That dark voice was chanting now and growing louder with each recitation until its strange words pounded in sync with Saveen’s heart. Something bad was happening. The crowd’s advance slowed and the hands reaching toward Sarn moved like weeds caught in a current.

  “We need to get out of here. Can you wake your father?”

  “I can try.” Still aiming his slingshot, Ran backed toward the unconscious Sarn.

  Saveen shoved one man back and swatted a second but a third, holding a shard of glass, wormed past him. A wall of green light jumped in between the teen and a surprised Ran, and the glass shard bounced off the shield. The teen staggered as a metal ball struck him between the eyes.

  “Saveen, back up. The magic wants you to come here.”

  “The magic wants me to do what?”

  But the voice drowned out Ran’s reply with its harsh grating.

  “Come, sinner, thy time is nigh.”

  Sinners’ Last Call

  “This I, your only ally, say to the sky: come, sinner, thy time is nigh,” intoned the Adversary as he spread his arms wide. Echoes of his chant sustained it, and he built on them, layer by layer until it was a polyphonic braid. The underpinning was ready, now it was time to add to the melody and give this spell teeth.

  “Come, sinners, with prideful eyes. At my side, thy time is nigh. Sinners tell father your lies. At my side, thy time is nigh. Gluttonous dears, swallow the despised. Come, sinner, thy time is nigh. Envious ones, decry the sly. Come, sinner, thy time is nigh. The slothful beside me sigh: come, sinner, thy time is nigh. I dwell in greedy hearts on high. Come, sinner, thy time is nigh. The sorrowful testify: come, sinners, thy time is nigh. When lusting loins rise—come, sinner, thy time is nigh. Come, sinners, let bloody hands lie. Sing my battle cry: come, sinner, thy time is nigh. This I, your only ally, say to the sky: come, sinner, thy time is nigh.”

  As the Adversary sent out his call, he pulled a dark thread from his spirit form and wove it like a cat’s cradle between his skeletal fingers, changing the pattern and the pitch of his voice for each group of sinners he summoned.

  “To you, I call, sinners all, afflicted by the seven deadliest sins of all. Come one, come all, we’re all sinners enthralled, so pile your sins of the flesh ‘til they fall. Yes, pile your sins of the flesh ‘til they fall. Into my spirit, come one, come crawl all.”

  The tunnel rang with his summons, bouncing the echoes of his dark melody through the Lower Quarters. “Come, sinner, thy time is nigh.” Part of his essence peeled away, and his shadow raced after the echoes of his summons. “This I, your only ally, say to the sky: come, sinner, thy time is nigh.”

  As the Adversary sent out his spirit to collect those who belonged to him, he listened for the double-stop harmony of a doubly-gifted mage but heard only the drone of thousands of mortals whose small lives were interrupted by his call. No matter, that mage would come, thanks to the thorn he’d implanted.

  The Adversary tossed a pawn into the air. It spun three times widdershins as the worst sinners shuffled into the cavern. Your move, Queenie.

  Ran took aim at the toothless woman bearing down on Saveen and repeated his request. “Just step backward so Papa’s magic can protect you.” He fired off a shot then tugged Saveen’s pant leg to get his friend moving. But he pulled too hard, and Saveen toppled.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to trip you.” Ran crawled over his friend to get a better view and came nose to whiskered nose with a silver-eyed rat. “Rat Woman? Can you help us?”

  She turned and darted into the crowd, biting and clawing her way through it, panicking people. But she was one rat, and there were many more people. They recovered from their shock and pushed to the front again. Arms were everywhere, reaching, clawing, grasping and pulling on the people in front of them, making the crowd look like the seething monster they’d faced earlier.

  Ran swallowed the fear choking him and raised his slingshot. Rat Woman did what she could. Now it's up to me. I wish Bear was here.

  The bright bubble of green light surrounding him pushed forward until it encompassed his downed friend then it bowed inward. Why was it doing that? Make the bad people go away. Ran poked the shield, and it rippled.

  “I’m okay.” Saveen sat up and squeezed Ran’s shoulder.

  He nodded and fished another metal ball from his pocket but held on to it instead of fitting it to his slingshot.

  A rhythmic metallic scraping startled Ran. “What was that?”

  Saveen shrugged, but he’d heard it, and it had rattled him too. He adjusted his headscarf, which had slipped during the unfolding drama.

  The crowd froze as that sawing noise grew louder. It almost sounded like words, but none Ran had ever heard.

  “What’s a ‘sinner?’” Ran spat out the sour tang filling his mouth. Those words tasted like spoiled meat.

  “I don’t know.”

  “They’re bad words. Don’t try to say them. Don’t listen either.” Ran covered his ear with his free hand.

  A man in the front ranks froze. He had broken, blackened teeth and a sooty face contorted by a rictus of pain. The man’s eyes rolled back until the whites showed as he turned and shouldered his way through the people bunched up behind him.

  A kerchiefed woman replaced him. She reached out for the light pouring out of Papa’s eyes then she spasmed and her eyes rolled back. Her desperate hands dropped to her sides as she too turned and shuffled away. Another woman tried to stop her, but she slammed the heel of her hand into the woman’s throat and she crumpled.

  “Why are their eyes all blank?” Ran pocketed his slingshot and hurried to Papa’s side. He couldn’t see the woman who fell. The crowd hid her. Something bad was happening and it made the hair on the back of his neck rise.

  One by one, the rest of the crowd swayed to the beat of that discordant chant. Some peeled off from the group and followed the man with the broken teeth, but others remained, staring at nothing Ran could see. At least some were going away. That was a good thing, right? Ran pushed the question aside.

  “What jus
t happened?” Saveen covered his ears as he rose.

  “This I, your only ally, say to the sky: come, sinner, thy time is nigh.”

  The evil chant was inside Ran’s head now, and he winced. It was too loud.

  Pain etched Saveen’s face. He bit his lip as a tear tracked down his cheek. It glistened in the glow of Papa’s eyes. That sawing sound changed to many chains clanging. Ran covered his ears too as it echoed then he turned as he caught movement in his peripheral vision.

  The green light pouring out of Papa gathered into a blinding man-shape.

  “What are you doing?” Ran asked the magic, but the green man just shook his head. “Why doesn’t Papa wake up?”

  The Magic Man extended a hand and pulled Papa to his feet. He hung there, unconscious and pale. There was something in the shadows. Was it a person crouched by that fold of rock? Ran squinted at it as the thing moved then he stumbled backward.

  A black man-shape rushed toward them, but the magic’s light didn’t reveal any features. “I’ve got you now!”

  His head was a flat black ovoid when he collided with a winged woman. Auntie Sovvan appeared next to Papa. She shoved the shadow-man in the chest driving him backward, but he split in half and each half spawned another shadow-man. They both rushed toward Papa and his magic. Auntie Sovvan pulled a sword from her hip sheath and swung it. She caught one shadow-man, but the other got past her. It slammed into Papa and his magic. They merged—the green man and Papa—in a blinding flash. When Ran could see again, Auntie Sovvan was gone, and the shadow-man had Papa in a headlock.

  “You’ll meet my master,” said the shadow.

  “No!” Ran shot the shadow with his slingshot, but the ball sailed right through his head instead of bouncing off it.

  The shadow man laughed until Papa’s hand connected with his face. Black lines covered Papa’s left hand, and they dispersed the shadow-man on contact.