Curse Breaker Omnibus

by Melinda Kucsera

  Ran waited a moment more before cutting left, but Sarn stuck out a hand and his son walked into his waiting palm.

  “Let me see, Papa.” Ran pried his fingers apart, so he could peer through them. “Oh, look at the pretty colors. Why’re they so dim?”

  “I don’t know. The stones seem different.”

  A fat green band of magic rotated from top to bottom in an endless circle teasing Sarn. As he stared, it flared and faded, and his magic matched its rhythm, making him dizzy.

  “Different how?” Ran moved to stand beside him. Sarn put his son behind him again, but Ran didn’t stay there.

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Both of you stay back.”

  Sarn waited for a nod from both his charges, but he only received one from Saveen. Ran frowned up at him.

  “What will you do?”

  “See if they’ll let us cross.”

  “Where’s the Queen Tree?”

  “Out there.” Sarn gestured to the enchanted forest which stood sentinel about ten-feet from the second circle of menhirs. Maybe it was the spell weaving between the stones towering over him that made the forest seem darker and less magical than usual.

  I must go to her, but what about my son? Is it safe for Ran to accompany me? His gut said no but staying behind wasn’t any safer for the boy. Hell, the stones might not even let him pass with the Adversary's mark on his palm. They’d rejected him last month. They could do so again.

  Sarn extended his hand to check but stopped when a brown-skinned man stepped out from behind one of the stones in the outer ring. Something about his bearing reminded Sarn of Nolo, his other master and he dropped his hand back to his side.

  “Where did you come from?” Ran poked his head around Sarn’s leg and made eye contact with the stranger.

  Fear choked Sarn, but it was too late. The man had already seen his glowing eyes and his son. He braced for the usual reaction. Which would it be this time—hatred or fear? But the fellow just smiled at Ran and pointed to the sky.

  “Heaven, but I think you came from that mountain.” He pointed to Mount Eredren about a mile behind them.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To that mountain, but they won’t let me cross.” Still smiling, the man gestured to the two rings of menhirs.

  “Why not?”

  The man shrugged, and a boxy shadow appeared then disappeared over his right shoulder.

  I’m seeing things again. Sarn rubbed his eyes with the hand not corralling his curious son.

  “I was hoping you could help me cross.” The fellow regarded Sarn now, and he took a step back.

  Why wasn’t this man freaking out about his glowing eyes? This deviation from the norm jarred Sarn. There was something otherworldly about this man. And it made his magic sit up and take notice.

  “Who are you?” Sarn asked.

  “I have many names, but you can call me J.C.”

  “I’m Ran. This is Saveen and that’s Papa, but you can call him Sarn. Only I get to call him Papa.” Ran gestured as he made introductions before Sarn could stop him.

  J.C. crouched so he was on Ran’s level and waved. “Hello, Ran. It’s nice to meet you and your friend and father. Will you help me cross?”

  Ran was nodding, of course, before the question was out of J.C.’s mouth. “Yes.”

  “Thank you, but I need your father’s okay on that.” J.C. smiled and extended his hand to Sarn, but he struck an invisible barrier instead. Behind him, a wooden spar appeared, and J.C. staggered under its weight. Blood seeped into the fabric of his white tunic as he went down on one knee.

  Unable to watch another man suffer, Sarn stepped forward and that voice crashed into him, staggering him.

  “Come, sinner, to your dark Father fly. At my side, thy time is nigh.”

  Shadows boiled out of the ground. They reached for Sarn as he thrust a wide-eyed Ran at Saveen. “Run!”

  “Papa, behind you!” Ran screamed. He pointed at the standing stones.

  And a man-shaped negative space appeared between them. It seized his upper arms and pulled. Sarn hit the wall of magic and it broke over him like a wave, lighting him up from the inside.

  Unclean. You are tainted, shouted a voice inside Sarn’s head.

  “I’m trying to fix that,” Sovvan said then lightning struck him.

  “Papa!”

  The Cards Don’t Lie

  “Where are you off to?” Ranispara asked as she fell into step with Inari.

  In answer, Inari held up the blood smeared tarot card. After her ordeal in the maze, she didn’t feel like speaking, not even to her best friend. In the hot afternoon, what had just happened seemed more a dream than reality. There are no Wild Things here at Mount Eredren. This place is too civilized for their tastes.

  Ranispara took the card and smoothed it out then she dropped it on the ground. Her hand flew to her lips. “She—Aralore’s here?”

  Inari bent to retrieve that benighted card and noted she’d failed to tie her left boot. But as she set her basket down to rectify that, she heard that voice again. This is crazy. Thinking about my sister has addled my mind.

  “She must be. The cards don’t lie. Though I wish they did.” Inari fought the urge to reach into her basket and draw a card—any card—to change her fortune. Instead, she tied her shoe then picked up her basket.

  “Aralore—she’s the sister who joined—” Ranispara swallowed then continued in a lowered voice, “the Seekers?”

  “That’s her, my dear little sister.” Inari shoved the card into her basket. Just seeing it rammed a hot poker into her chest. She rubbed the spot, but the pain refused to diminish. “I hate that card.”

  “You don’t hate anyone.” Ranispara bumped her hip into Inari’s. “Now, me, I’m the hater.”

  “Heh, don’t be silly. You haven’t got a hateful bone in your body. That’s what makes us such good friends.” Inari returned the hip bump.

  “And all this time I thought we’d bonded over archery, wine, and cookies.” Ranispara hooked a lock that had escaped her braid behind her ear.

  Her bracer was showing. It was the twin of Inari’s and a Christmas gift from years past. Seeing it made something inside Inari unclench. If she had run into a remnant of something old and dangerous, rather than a hallucination, then at least her friend was prepared to meet it.

  “Come, sinner, sing my battle cry: come, sinner, thy time is nigh.”

  Inari flinched and the religious runes on Ranispara’s bracer glowed a soft white. But her friend’s gaze was fixed on the distant forest and scanning it for problems. I’m imagining things.

  “So where is your infamous sister? I’ve heard so much about her. I’d like to meet her.”

  Inari pointed. Both women regarded the standing stones ringing the meadow. Beyond them, the River Nirthal flowed and on its banks, silhouetted men moved about.

  “You think she’s on there?” Ranispara pointed to the longboat.

  Inari nodded. “I know she is.” Certainty had crystallized on the long walk here.

  “Right, magic-haters don’t hike through enchanted forests. Point taken.” Ranispara settled her hands on her utility belt. It was the same tawny as her boots and both contrasted with her forest green Ranger’s uniform. “So, you’ll walk on there and do what? You haven’t seen her in years.”

  “True but she’s my sister and I failed her.” Inari kneaded a handful of her multicolored skirt.

  Ranispara caught her arm and turned Inari to face her. “It’s not your fault. You weren’t even there when it happened.”

  “I should have been.” Inari yanked her arm free. Her friend meant well, but this was something she must do alone.

  “Bullshit. You were caring for a young child at the time. What could you have done? Strapped Nerule to your back and hared off after your crazy sister? Be reasonable.”

  Inari nodded conceding the point. Maybe her friend was right, but her heart still clamored for her to do something. W
ell, she was here now, so was Aralore according to the cards. No time like the present to fix things between them. Assuming, of course, things were fixable.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  Before Inari could argue, raised voices drew both their attention to the enchanted forest crouched on the far side of the standing stones. Shapes writhed. They rose and fell as they entwined.

  “What the hell is that?” Ranispara pointed as she jogged toward it, Inari on her heels.

  “I don’t know, but it looks person-sized. Maybe someone’s in trouble.” Inari shook her head as she drew even with her best friend. The air seemed to thicken, slowing their progress to a crawl.

  “Come, sinner, thy time is nigh.”

  Ranispara winced and covered her ears. Their steps slowed even more. The very ground seemed to flow toward the mountain. “Did you hear that?”

  Inari nodded. “I heard it. I’m so glad you hear it too. I thought I was going crazy.”

  “Well, you are but not because you hear voices.”

  Inari elbowed her friend in the ribs.

  “I was just kidding. Since you have the religious husband, would you mind telling me what a ‘sinner’ is?”

  “Someone who turns away from God by not upholding his commandments.”

  “Oh, I know about those. Jerlo has them posted in his office. I think he made a few amendments to the original ten. I wonder what he’d make of all this.”

  Ranispara grabbed her arm and yanked Inari to the left as something darted past.

  “Oh, dear God, was that a snake?” Inari halted and fought down the urge to run away. “I hate snakes.”

  “You and me both. And yes, I think that was a snake.”

  “There’s another one!” Inari pointed then spun in a tight circle staring at dozens of snakes all slithering lightning-quick toward the writhing shape near the menhirs.

  “What the hell’s happening? Snakes don’t travel in packs.” Ranispara bumped into Inari as she jumped out of the way of an oncoming snake. The vile creatures headed toward their goal with frightening concentration neither seeing nor reacting to anything else. Nor did they shift their track to avoid obstacles.

  “Get out of the way,” Ranispara shouted at a group on a collision course. But those snakes just kept coming in waves.

  The mixed group of women and men were so focused on their conversation and picnic plans, they didn’t hear her warning. Screams shredded the idyllic afternoon as the group saw the danger bearing down on them too late.

  Inari crouched by one woman but shook her head at the blood running down her companion’s leg. “No bite marks, it’s just a scratch. You’ll be okay, just watch where you’re going next time,” she said to the white-faced teen. As she tied a bandage around his wound, the summons faded.

  “You’re very lucky. Shayari has its share of poisonous snakes. I wonder why they didn’t bite. Snakes aren’t known for their restraint. No animal is when it has a numerical advantage.” Ranispara rose from her crouch and dusted herself off.

  “I’m glad they didn’t bite,” said a beautiful girl with bluish undertones to her black skin. It gave her an ethereal look enhanced by her filmy powder blue sundress.

  “Well, this is Shayari.” Inari accepted her proffered hand and let the girl—young woman—pull her up. She didn’t bat an eye at Inari’s gypsy togs, which was as much as a surprise as her strength. Too bad she was twice Nerule’s age. He’d need a woman with a good head on her shoulders. Though maybe she had a younger sister. Inari resolved to find out.

  “Oh, please don’t start that now.” Ranispara shot her an annoyed glare.

  “Start what? There’s an enchanted forest beyond those standing stones. Weird is the norm and you know it.”

  “It’s the norm out there in the forest not in here.” Ranispara gestured to the meadow where nothing magical except a certain Indentured mage ever trod.

  Inari let it go. It was an old argument anyway, and she was tired of rehashing it.

  A man darted out of the forest and screamed bloody murder. Inari covered her ears, gave the girl who’d helped her up a smile of thanks then raced off after her friend.

  Ranispara outpaced her easily, but then her lean friend spent every day running around the enchanted forest. So the less than a mile run meant nothing to her and her easy stride ate up the distance. And she’s not wearing a dress. Inari hiked her full skirts up higher but managing all that extra fabric slowed her progress.

  She still felt something tugging her back to the mountain, but without the summons, it had no teeth. So she ignored it and ran on, hoping it was just a shared delusion, not a real threat bearing down on the mountain where she lived.

  A gray-eyed rat leaped onto his desk and pinned Jerlo with its mesmeric stare.

  “Rat Woman? Is that you?”

  From its—her? —clenched teeth, a silver chain dangled. It dipped its muzzle releasing the chain then stepped back revealing a crucifix. The rat fixed its peculiar eyes on Jerlo again, and they silvered, becoming twin mirrors reflecting a haggard man of middle forties.

  With shaking hands, Jerlo picked up the cross and watched the play of lumir light on his Lord. “I thought I’d lost you. I should have known better.” Jerlo shook his head and regarded the rat. “I guess our jaunt below ground wasn’t the nightmare I’d hoped it was.”

  As the rat shook its head, a horde scaled his desk to join with it and generate a woman in a pale shift and a rat-skin cloak. She crouched on the edge of his desk with a feline grace. Her face was more defined, more human than it had been two weeks ago when he’d last seen her.

  “Why have you come?”

  “To return your property. It took some time to find else I’d have brought it sooner.” Rat Woman shifted so she sat on the edge of his desk.

  “You have my thanks for that.” Jerlo clasped the chain around his neck and put his Savior back where he belonged, at the heart of things.

  “I haven’t seen the one you lost.”

  She meant Hadrovel, of course. Two weeks ago, a strange series of events had transpired culminating in the liberation of that fiend and the vanquishing of another demon. Not a day went by when Jerlo didn’t reflect on those events and wonder how much had taken place inside his head versus outside it.

  Parts of that adventure through the lowest tunnels Mount Eredren possessed were lost to the ever-present darkness in his mind. It was born from a two decades’ old amnesia so entrenched in his psyche, it had become an impenetrable wall. One that had not shifted its bounds since he’d woken up in the Sisters of Charity’s care until two weeks ago. Something about his trip through the Lower Quarters had caused that black cancer of his mind to spread.

  “Insect Man and I have been looking for him. I wanted you to know that.” Rat Woman twisted a fold of her cloak in her hands. Her quiet speech silenced the questions caroming around Jerlo’s mind.

  “There’s no other reason for your sudden visit? Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the return of my cross, but you didn’t need to manifest for that. What are you not telling me?” Jerlo studied the construct of a vanquished demon. Was she as independent as she claimed? Or had that too been a ruse to gain his trust?

  “Nothing,” she said a trifle too hastily as she hopped off his desk. Something flashed in her silver eyes. Was it loneliness? Who else knew of her existence besides him?

  The blackness in his mind belted out the most unlikely person imaginable—Sarn. And he had a hazy recollection of following Rat Woman to the Kid’s cave then everything faded into a light so bright, it made his head hurt until he banished the memory. A cross lay emblazoned on his mind. Jerlo rubbed his aching forehead and momentarily lost sight of her.

  “What happened after we reached Sarn’s cave? I know we defeated the demon, but I can only remember bits and pieces.”

  The pieta, crawling toward water—he must reach it and baptize himself in its cold, clear water. Red lumir shattered like glass. Its shards scorched his fee
t. Heavy gloves covered his hands as Jerlo parried with a molten blade glowing white-hot from the forge. Lord Joranth's cloak flapped in the wind as he raised a hammer over Hadrovel’s bloody body. Sarn lay unconscious, his back a bloody ruin in the dungeon. Nulthir’s pallid face as the captain of the Guards uttered that damning truth, ‘the unkillable man.’

  “Yes, he’s loose in Mount Eredren,” Jerlo came back to himself with that fell pronouncement on his lips.

  Rat Woman was gone as if she’d never been. Not a trace of her visit remained. Had he imagined her? Something warmed around his neck. Jerlo fingered the hot spot and closed his hand around a crucifix—the one he’d lost in the oubliette. She’d been there. And the things he was forgetting had something to do with Sarn. No big surprise there. That kid dragged trouble around in his wake.

  When I get my hands on you, Kid, you’ll reveal everything you’ve been hiding from me.

  Jerlo picked up his pen then glared at the closed door to his office when he heard a voice in the antechamber. The door muffled the man’s words all except for one— 'sinner.’

  Just pass by, friend, you won't find any sinners here.

  Jerlo shook his head and reread the letter he’d drafted right before Rat Woman’s unconventional arrival. That voice dropped to an ignorable murmur as he composed a postscript.

  Sinner, heh, as if I’d ever sin against you, Lord, not bloody likely. You hold my heart and my highest esteem. And for you, my Lord and my Savior, I won't throttle the Kid the next time I see him. But I will ask some probing questions, and Sarn had better have the answers.

  Many Crossings

  When Sarn stepped between those stones, Ran followed before Saveen could stop him. Shrugging, Saveen stepped through as well, but he didn’t make it past that sparkling threshold. Invisible hands grabbed him and peeled his glamour like skin from an apple. He screamed, but no sound emerged. The link between him and Mama darkened and began to fray.