Assassin of Curses: (The Coren Hart Chronicles Book 3)

by Jessie D. Eaker

  I smiled. “I think I’d like that.”

  She turned and led me deeper into the woods.

  Just as she said, the feeling came on slowly—a sense of wrongness. I frequently caught myself at least a pace to the right or the left of where Docila led. I would correct it, only to once again find myself off course.

  “Aren’t you affected?” I finally asked in frustration. “I’m not doubting your direction, but it feels so wrong!”

  She shrugged. “I’ve been here a couple of times, and I’ve just learned how to ignore it. I focus on the landmarks instead. It helped that during the first trip, the goats didn’t seem bothered by it.”

  I focused on following her and tried to shut everything else out. It was difficult, but thankfully, we didn’t have much further to go. The feeling suddenly vanished as soon as we crossed some invisible line. We emerged a few paces later into a clearing utterly devoid of trees and brush. Instead, it was filled with clusters of huge broken stones, with some having pieces of ornate figures carved on them and others appearing to be chunks of broken statues. There were even a few that could have been columns toppled on their sides and covered in vines. It looked like a giant hand had swept across them and knocked everything down.

  I wandered among the fallen giants, amazed that everything had been broken. All the other works of the ancients had been in near perfect condition.

  “What could have happened?” I asked aloud.

  Docila came to stand beside me. “When I was a girl, I heard an elder tell of a strong earthquake when his grandfather was just a boy. I thought that might have done it.”

  I nodded. That sounded reasonable. I guess even the ancients couldn’t stand against the forces of the earth. I just hope it hadn’t also destroyed the Griffin’s Key.

  Docila watched me patiently while I stood in place and turned in a circle, trying to get a feel for how everything had been arranged. I tried to imagine what it looked like before the earthquake.

  There had been a life-size statue in the center, which now lay broken on the ground. It reminded me of the Myst Siphon that had protected Ruin’s Shield and nearly killed Zofie. And indeed, when I looked closer, I could see that there had been a short circular wall around it. Also within the circle rested a jumble of stones, which must have been some type of building.

  I picked my way to the remains of the building and circled its perimeter, searching for a way to see what might be hidden under it. But nothing was evident. I was about to go back to the house and see about getting a shovel when I noticed a dip in the ground. It was slight, but definitely there. I knelt down over it and used a loose rock to try to dig a little.

  Suddenly the ground underneath me gave way, and I plunged through. I dropped about five feet and landed painfully face down in the dirt. I lay there, momentarily stunned. Thankfully, a sizable pile of loose soil had broken my fall.

  “Coren!” Docila called from above. I rolled over and looked up to see her staring down at me. “Are you all right? I thought you were dead there for a moment.”

  I sat up, groaning as my battered body protested. I brushed dirt from my coat, creating clouds of dust. “I’m a bit bruised and a few scratches, but nothing broken.”

  I examined my surroundings. The afternoon sun was peeking through the hole above and provided ample illumination to see what lay immediately around me. The familiar shape of stairs emerged from underneath the pile of soil I sat on, one side going up and blocked by several large stones, and the other leading down into the darker depths.

  “I seem to be in some kind of stairwell,” I called up. “It must have been covered over in the earthquake.” I scooted toward the darker portion of the stairs. “I’m going to see what’s down here.”

  “Be careful,” Docila called back. “You don’t know what horrors could be lurking in the dark.”

  I thought back to the stone men and the giant crab that had protected the Mirror of Bygone Tears. Yes, there definitely could be bad things down here. I pulled out my sword and held it ready.

  I carefully picked my way through the debris on the steps and down the stairwell. Once I was beyond the initial cave-in, the wreckage quickly cleared, leaving only a thick layer of undisturbed dust.

  The darkness grew as I moved away from the collapsed ceiling and farther down the stairs. I reached inside my jacket and pulled out my trusty amulet. It had originally protected me from the worse of my bad luck. But since Abe had broken it, all it was good for was producing a dim light. But even that had proven quite useful.

  I didn’t have to go too far before the stairs ended at an arched doorway. The moment I passed through, a bright light from above sprang to life, making me shield my eyes. When I could finally see again, I realized I was in a large circular chamber, completely empty and with no other doors.

  An elegant mural, painted directly on the curved wall, adorned the chamber. It was exceptionally well done and in the same style as the ones I had seen before in the crypt of the Mirror of Bygone Tears. And even after the passing of a thousand years, the picture’s colors were crisp and bright. It looked like it had been finished just yesterday.

  I studied it, thinking it might provide a clue to the key’s whereabouts. The mural’s subjects were eight life-size pictures of men and women wearing stately robes and evenly spaced around the room. The background behind each varied but seemed to be some sort of court scene. The renderings were so lifelike it looked like they could start talking at any moment. A master artist had indeed painted them. I could easily imagine myself appearing before them in a great hall.

  All but two of the figures were standing. The seated man and woman wore crowns and perched on what looked like finely crafted thrones. There was no doubt the seated pair were rulers, maybe even king and queen. To my surprise, I thought I recognized at least a couple of the faces from a vision I had received on Mount Eternal. But it was the seated woman that drew my attention. I stepped forward and examined her closely. I had seen an older version of her in a dream I’d had only a few weeks ago. I knew with absolute certainty who it was.

  Evelend. The genius behind all the ancient artifacts and weapons.

  And Abe’s creator.

  At the time of the portrait, she was in the prime of her adulthood with brilliant red hair, gentle eyes, and a confident smile. I couldn’t help but wonder what she was like. While I hadn’t noticed it in the vision, I could faintly see a resemblance to Zofie in this younger version. She could very well be one of Zofie’s ancestors, a thousand years removed. No wonder Zofie was so damned smart.

  It also begged a larger question. Evelend must have been a queen, yet why was there no record of her? It didn’t make sense. There was definitely something amiss. I sighed. But that would have to wait for another day.

  As I counted through the portraits, I noted an irregularity. I had initially thought the figures evenly spaced along the wall, but that wasn’t entirely correct. One section of the mural on my right had a gap, as if the artist had allowed enough space for one last person, but never included them. It reminded me of the missing symbol on the entrance to the crypt of the Mirror of Bygone Tears. There, the empty spot had been reserved for the Thief of Curses. Could this also be the case?

  I moved to the spot and cautiously touched it, but nothing happened. I ran my hand across the wall but found it perfectly smooth, without a hidden seam or crack that might conceal another door.

  I sighed in frustration and turned once more to scan each of the pictures. I had expected there to be at least some clue as to the key’s location. But no such luck. Other than the portraits, the room was empty.

  Was this chamber just to honor those long dead? While the explanation didn’t seem exactly right, I couldn’t think of another purpose. I guess I needed to look elsewhere. This room was a dead end. As I was leaving, I paused at the doorway and gave the room one last look. My eyes flicked to each of the portraits before turning away.

  I froze and looked again. Evelend’s fig
ure frowned back at me. I blinked. Hadn’t she been smiling a moment ago? I shook my head. I must not have been paying attention.

  I glanced into the darkness outside the entrance. This had been a waste. I hoped there were other clues in the ruins above. “Well,” I said aloud. “At least there’s no monsters.”

  “Oh, there might not be a monster, but there is a murderer here,” came a female voice from behind me.

  My eyes went wide. I drew my sword and whirled about. To my amazement, the picture of the queen had changed. She now stood beside her throne and glared at me.

  And then she moved, pointing an accusing finger at me. “And that murderer is you.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Unpleasant

  Visions

  That was enough for me. I tried to run, but for some reason, my legs were frozen to the spot. I couldn’t move. I looked up at Queen Evelend. She now stood with hands clasped before her.

  “Why have you trapped me?” I asked.

  “Because you are a truly heartless murderer. And not only that, but a thief of other’s good fortune. You steal their luck to save yourself, even if it means their death.” She spread her arms, indicating the others in the room. “And now it’s time for you to be judged by my council.” She raised her voice. “I declare my court in session.”

  Suddenly all of the mural figures surrounding her started to move.

  Some of the figures slipped to their neighbor and whispered in their ear, others turned an admiring gaze on the queen, while the king leaned forward and slit his eyes, examining me closely.

  This was some kind of myst trick. I struggled to pull my feet free.

  Queen Evelend moved toward her throne, and with a flick of her skirts, sat down on it. She turned to the king, “Your majesty, I charge this man with murder. Murder of the worst kind—premeditated and cruel. Even his family was not spared.”

  The king lifted his chin. “Coren Hart, Thief of Curses, what say you to this charge?”

  How did he know my name?

  “I’m not a murderer,” I said. “I merely seek the Griffin’s Key. I need it to restore my princess.”

  The queen smiled cruelly. “Such a noble cause,” she said sarcastically. “But all villains say such.”

  I spread my arms. “Then who have I killed? I have not harmed anyone.”

  She sighed dramatically. “Lies already? Did you not kill your father? Cause him to be drowned, so you could live?”

  My head shook in denial. “No, it was Abhulengulus. He...”

  The queen waved her hand.

  I found myself a child lying on the wet ground beside the swollen river coughing up water. A strange man knelt over me, and he was saying something, but I couldn’t make out the words. I turned my head to the side and saw my father lying next to me. Only, he was white and still—and he wasn’t breathing.

  I looked to the man leaning over me in shock.

  “You’re lucky to be alive, boy....”

  I jerked as I came back to the present, my mind and heart reeling from the memory.

  The queen did not pause in her accusations. “And did you not kill your mother’s unborn child. Your very own brother.”

  I again shook my head, not understanding. “I don’t have a brother.”

  She leaned forward. “But you would have, had you not killed him in the womb.” She smiled cruelly. “Your mother quickened with child right after taking her new husband. But she miscarried.”

  “I didn’t...”

  The whispers from the others on the wall grew around me. I could barely make out what they were saying, “Guilty...”

  The queen waved her hand again.

  I was my child self again, a year after my father’s passing. I was kneeling beside my mother. She sat on the edge of her bed with tears slipping down her face. “What’s wrong Mother?” I asked.

  She merely shook her head.

  I reached out to hug her, but she pushed me away. “Don’t touch me!” she yelled, obviously angry. “Just leave me alone!”

  I found myself back in the queen’s chamber. I remembered the event, but at the time had no idea what had happened. My heart filled with guilt.

  The queen continued her onslaught. “You stole your brother’s luck before he could take his first breath!”

  “No, it...”

  The whispers from the other figures grew in volume. “Guilty... murderer....”

  “And what about the others. While you may not have killed them, you have certainly made it so they wished they were dead... like your step-sister.”

  A man wearing the king’s livery had Docila pinned to a large oak tree, a big hand around her throat. Two others held her arms, bending her back painfully against it. I somehow knew it was Docila only a few months ago.

  “Where are the goats!” he demanded.

  His grip wouldn’t let her breathe, little alone answer. She shook her head.

  The soldier frowned. “So be it.” He grinned evilly and leaned forward until his face nearly touched hers. “Then I’ll have to take something almost as valuable.” He then grabbed the collar of her dress and ripped it open to her waist...

  I fell to my knees. “I didn’t...”

  “Guilty... murderer... thief....”

  But the queen didn’t stop. The scene changed.

  Risten sat on the floor of the dungeon, chained to the walls, her face bruised and her lip bleeding.

  Wynn was smiling at her. “I think I have just the one for her,” he said. “One that doesn’t require as much myst as some of the others.” He cocked his head to one side. “Send for Lilith.”

  Wynn turned back to her. “I think this will be educational for both of you. Lilith tends to drive her hosts insane....”

  I gasped for breath.

  The murmurs from the figures on the wall continued to rise. “Guilty... murderer... die...!”

  I shook my head.

  It was laundry day, and Cabrina’s mother had insisted that everything be washed, including the bed linens.

  The young girl stood outside, smoothing the white sheet across the drying line. She slid the clothespin into place and then reached for another, only to notice the world had gotten strangely quiet. Curious, she looked up to see a man and a woman standing next to her. The man smiled and unexpectedly grabbed her, wrapping his arms tightly around her and lifting her bodily off the ground. The woman then stepped forward and touched a dark red crystal to Cabrina’s forehead.

  Cabrina suddenly felt another presence inside her mind. And that presence shoved her aside and took over her body—

  “Please stop,” I begged.

  “Guilty... he must die...!”

  The visions came faster, rolling from one to another.

  “Spraggel! Get back!” I yelled.

  The horse stumbled and the girth holding the elder’s saddle broke, throwing him to the ground—

  Mikney turned from the keg of ale he was moving to answer a question. He suddenly lost control of the barrel and it rolled back across his leg—

  Fumiko stood in her master’s cottage and tried to free herself from the woman holding her. The woman grinned. “I curse you,” the woman whispered. “To become me.”

  Fumiko screamed as the entity entered her mind—

  I knelt on the ground, tears in my eyes. Had I caused that much pain? That much suffering?

  The queen frowned. “There’s not a single one of your family or friends that you haven’t affected. Even the one you said was your true love, Princess Zophia—”

  Wynn touched a finger to her chest. “Zophia Olwenna Xernow, Princess of Brethnach, I curse you. I give you the curse of Eternal Transformation!”

  A blue glow surrounded her, and she began to change. She screamed in agony as bones crunched and warped, organs came undone and moved inside her, and her skin seemed to melt and reform.

  And she felt the excruciating pain of each and every change—

  Hot tears slid down my face to land in t
he dust before me. I couldn’t believe the pain I had caused.

  “Die... you must be punished....”

  The queen gave a sad shake of her head. “Your crimes are obvious. You should be put to death.”

  I nodded. I picked up my sword and turned the blade so the point rested just under my rib cage.

  “Die... you must die....”

  I took a sobbing breath.

  And then an angel spoke. “Don’t listen to her, Coren.”

  It was Zofie’s voice, a flash of brilliance within my darkened heart. I shook my head. I must be imagining it.

  “Hurry, Princess. I can’t hold it.” That was Abe.

  “Hang on, my dearest knight.” Zofie spoke again. “Help is coming. Just remember who you are. And know that I will always love you.”

  I shook my head again. There is no way Zofie could love someone like me. Someone so evil. I had to be punished for my crimes. I tensed to press the blade into my chest.

  I suddenly felt arms around me. Hugging me close. Real arms. Real fingers pushed the sword away, and I turned my head to face her. “Stupid brother,” said Docila. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  And suddenly, the spell broke. The bracelet on my wrist was searing hot, but immediately began to cool.

  I looked up into Docila’s concerned face and then to the chamber walls around me. The mural was as it had been, with all the figures returned to their original places. “How...?” I croaked.

  “I got worried about you when you didn’t come back. Then I just got this feeling I needed to find you.”

  Realization struck me. I had nearly killed myself. I wrapped my arms around Docila and gave her a fierce hug. “Thank you. You saved my life.”

  Embarrassed, she pulled away. “Yeah, yeah. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

  We stood, and I faced the image of the queen. “You failed. I have committed no crimes. Yes, my curse can change luck, but certainly not with the intent of hurting others.”

  The queen leaped from her chair. “And now, we will have to take her too. Yet another innocent killed in an attempt to save yourself.”