Until All Bonds Are Broken

by Tim Frankovich

  Dravid shifted and nearly slipped. So much blood. This would never work. He was a failure. Again. Always. Every time he tried something, every time he truly desired something, he failed.

  Restore his purpose? “What purpose?” he groaned.

  Marshal’s head moved. His eyelids flickered, but he didn’t look up. “You… have a… purpose.” The words came out of his mouth through great effort, but Dravid couldn’t be sure Marshal even knew he was there. With the last word, a rush of breath escaped Marshal’s mouth.

  The ground stopped trembling.

  No. He couldn’t fail without at least trying again. “Don’t go yet,” he snapped.

  Dravid focused. Life. Where was it? He stared at his own glowing hand. At first, he sensed nothing. It couldn’t be. No vibration. No life. No. No… There. He felt something. Deep down inside Marshal somewhere. Life! It had to be.

  Dravid’s mouth went dry. Heat began to build behind his eyes. His chest grew tight. He focused, increasing the power that flowed out of his hand. He formed no shapes, did not take hold of it. Instead, he let it flow down into Marshal’s still body. The glow increased, growing brighter and brighter the more power he released. He had no idea what was happening, but that had to be a good sign.

  The light grew too bright to watch. Dravid closed his eyes, gritting his teeth against the heat that grew behind them. His hand shook.

  “Ahhhhh!” He let his emotions erupt in an inarticulate cry behind his gritted teeth.

  Finally, he could take no more. He released the power and slumped forward over Marshal, gasping for breath as the heat and tightness subsided.

  And then Marshal’s chest lifted in a deep breath.

  Kishin released the staff and spun back to his left. As he turned, both hands grasped the hilt of his warpsteel sword.

  “Will you kill again?”

  “Yes,” Kishin breathed.

  The sword pierced through Tezan’s chest.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY

  SERI RELEASED THE portal just as multiple things happened all at once. As she turned, she saw all of them.

  Something moved on the opposite platform.

  The pilgrim turned and stabbed Tezan.

  Calu disappeared through the portal.

  The pilgrim’s staff clattered off the walkway into the portal as well.

  Ixchel and Victor emerged from the stairway.

  The leper assassin, no longer fighting the pilgrim, turned and launched himself at Seri. Exhausted from holding the portal shut, she could only stare at the sword’s point coming toward her face.

  And that’s when Forerunner stepped in the way. And took the sword meant for her.

  Kishin felt the curse take hold the moment his sword slid out of Tezan’s chest. Tezan’s eyes froze, and he toppled back next to Volraag. “I was… almost king…”

  As it had many years before, the sensation started in Kishin’s hands. A numbness began in his fingers and spread rapidly throughout his body. His brown skin faded into a pasty white. Small white objects, the remains of his hair, began to rain to the ground.

  The numbness seemed to steal into his soul. Where was the staff? It fell, but where? He turned and saw Forerunner stabbed. Another curse. But no. Like himself, that killer already possessed the worst curse a man could have.

  Like himself.

  And he chose it.

  Volraag stared at his hands. Such power! How was it possible? Who had that strange man been? The power felt similar to what he obtained from the Eldani, but so much… more. It even transformed him physically! His body had grown, ripping his clothes in multiple spots.

  Inwardly, he felt better than he had his entire life. A warmth suffused his body, which, in light of the unbearable heat in this atrocious country, would seem to be a bad thing. Except he felt the warmth and nothing else. The heat no longer bothered him.

  Tezan’s body fell beside him. For a moment, he didn’t even react. It seemed so inconsequential compared to his new power.

  But Tezan had been his. Killing him demanded consequences. He turned to see who had done it and found another surprise.

  “Kishin? You?” There could be no mistaking that corrupted face, so similar to Rathri’s. “You work for my brother now?”

  Kishin lifted his sword. “I serve—”

  Volraag didn’t wait for the answer. He unleashed his power. Kishin flew backward over the edge of the hill and tumbled down out of sight.

  A growl came from behind him. Volraag turned, ignoring Rathri and the others, and saw two curse-stalkers emerging from the stairs on the western platform. Curious. He had been told they avoided the portal. His new power must have drawn them.

  A smile broadened his face. Whatever drew them, it made no difference. Even these creatures were far beneath him now.

  Marshal came fully awake with a start. He blinked and sat up. Dravid rolled off him and lifted himself up on his hands.

  “Marshal?”

  Before answering, Marshal felt for the wound in his side. Blood still covered it, as well as everything else. But he could find no sign of the wound itself. It was gone.

  He looked to Dravid. “Did you do this? Did you heal me?”

  Dravid gave a half-smile. “I guess I did.”

  “Amazing.” Marshal got to his feet. A few moments ago, he had slipped away, convinced he would soon be with his mother. He even heard her words about purpose.

  Yet now… he felt completely normal. No. He felt invigorated. As if he had just awoken from a nap and taken a quick swim in a cool pond.

  “Are you all right?” Dravid sounded weary. Of course he would, if he used magic on this kind of scale.

  “I feel great,” Marshal said. He picked up Dravid’s crutch, then reached down and pulled Dravid up as well.

  Dravid took the crutch, keeping his eyes on Marshal. “I can’t believe it.”

  “You doubt your own work?”

  “I’ve never done anything like that before. I, I don’t know what to think.”

  “I think we should go find the others,” Marshal said. He turned, but Dravid caught his arm.

  “Careful. I saw two curse-stalkers out there.”

  “Oh. It worked, then.”

  “What worked?”

  Marshal chuckled. “If I couldn’t go after Volraag myself, I figured I could summon something else to bother him. So I’ve been letting my power flow all over the place. I figured any curse-stalkers left in the area would come this way.”

  “You’re lucky they didn’t come eat us!”

  Marshal looked around. “I think they’re scared of this cave for some reason. Volraag seemed to think I would be safe here, anyway.”

  Dravid awkwardly adjusted his stance and looked out. “I don’t see them now.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  Forerunner fell back onto Seri. She caught his body, trying to keep him from rolling away.

  As Volraag blasted the pilgrim off the high place entirely, Ixchel screamed and launched herself at the assassin. She engaged him with a flurry of quick thrusts and slices, forcing him back from Forerunner and Seri.

  Victor came after Ixchel, followed by Talinir. Both of them started toward the fight.

  “Victor!” Seri screamed. He stopped abruptly as if something had grabbed him and yanked him back. Seri felt an odd vibration in her throat. Maybe something had.

  Talinir pushed past Victor and joined Ixchel.

  Seri spared a glance for Volraag. To her surprise, curse-stalkers appeared on the walkway and ran toward him. Good enough for now.

  Victor knelt beside her and looked at Forerunner. “That looks bad. Can’t he heal himself?”

  Forerunner shook his head slowly. “Calu took most of my power with him,” he wheezed. Blood trickled from his mouth. “He deemed me unworthy of it, because I grew too fond of you humans.”

  “Then he only has one chance,” Seri said firmly. She wrapped her arms around Forerunner, ignoring the blood. “Help me, Victor.”

&
nbsp; “Help you what?”

  “Help me take him into the portal.”

  Victor glanced back at the fight happening just behind them. “But I should—”

  “Victor! This man saved my life! I have to help him. You know what that’s like, don’t you?”

  Victor nodded and sheathed his sword. “Whatever you say.”

  Volraag spread his arms and laughed at the curse-stalkers. He was dimly aware of a fierce battle happening on the eastern platform. Rathri versus some of Marshal’s companions. But it didn’t concern him. Nothing really did, any more. He moved beyond it all.

  The nearest curse-stalker opened its mouth and two tongues shot out. Volraag caught them as they wrapped around his arm. He yanked on the tongues and pulled the creature to him. Its eyes bulged as Volraag caught it by the jaw. He twisted the huge head around until he heard the satisfying sound of the neck snapping.

  He dropped it and the second curse-stalker scrambled over its body and leaped at him. Volraag flicked his fingers and power blasted the creature off the platform and down the hill.

  So easy.

  Seri shifted and took hold of Forerunner’s feet as Victor lifted his upper body. Together, they moved to the edge of the walkway.

  “Should we throw him in?” Victor asked hesitantly.

  “No! You don’t throw a dying man!” She glared at him.

  “Sorry. I’ve never crossed into another world before!”

  Seri took a step off the walkway. She found just enough of a gap to stand before stepping into the portal itself. She nodded and Victor joined her.

  “This… won’t work,” Forerunner whispered.

  “Be quiet and let me save you!” Seri snapped.

  She took a deep breath and stepped into the portal.

  Talinir tried to take it all in. Too much was happening all at once. Where was Marshal in all this chaos, anyway?

  Fighting the assassin took most of his focus, but he kept checking on Janaab. After Calu fell through the portal, he remained lying on the ground in the Otherworld. Janaab checked on him, appeared to recognize him, and moved away. What could that mean?

  Talinir appreciated the help from the girl, Ixchel. He instantly recognized the traditional Holcan garb, of course, as well as the fighting style. Against any normal human opponent, she would be formidable.

  But the assassin was not normal. His moves, his fighting style, seemed an amalgam of so many others. Talinir recognized elements of the Holcan, traces of Mandi sentinels, the Remavian Guard… and something else beneath it all. Ixchel’s involvement made it difficult to discern. It might be easier to fight this opponent one-on-one. Having another involved made everything slightly more unpredictable.

  The close quarters made it more difficult. The assassin stepped back to the corner of the platform, allowing Ixchel to swing out to his left, onto the walkway leading to the southern platform and Volraag. Talinir stayed to the assassin’s right. Because of the angle, he couldn’t move entirely opposite Ixchel.

  The assassin wielded two swords of medium length which Talinir immediately recognized as Eldani-make. Though rare, he could have obtained them from his targets over the years. He couldn’t have visited the Starlit Realm, could he?

  Ixchel slammed one sword away with her shield, then used her momentum to spin in the opposite direction to attack. The assassin struck Talinir’s sword downward with his own so that he could use the same weapon to parry Ixchel. It left him open for only a fraction of a moment. Talinir brought his sword back up and managed to score a short slash on the assassin’s right side.

  In response, the assassin feinted at Talinir, then delivered a devastating double-sword strike at Ixchel. She caught both blades on her shield, but it staggered her back several steps. Talinir knew that move.

  In that moment, he realized the truth. But his mind fought against it. It could not be true.

  “Who are you?” he demanded.

  “I am Rathri. It is all you need know.”

  Kishin lay almost senseless. The warpsteel sword had somehow absorbed much of Volraag’s blast, though it still sent him flying. If not for the sword, every bone in his body would be broken. Even so, he felt battered and bruised all over his now curse-ravaged body.

  For the second time in his life, he had taken on a living death. What remained for one such as him, save real death?

  He staggered to his feet and picked the sword back up. At first, he thought his hand shook. But the sword itself was shaking. Perhaps it still held the magic from Volraag within it?

  Kishin looked up the hill. Maybe he could still do something here, after all.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE

  VICTOR STARED. THIS was the Otherworld that so consumed Marshal? It looked… like the aftermath of a forest fire. And an earthquake. And maybe a war.

  But then his eyes looked up, as he knew he must, and saw the stars. He had to admit, they were majestic. So many colors and sizes! The light of this place, though dim, came only from the stars. Did that make it always night here? None of the others ever mentioned daylight.

  “Where’s Calu?” Seri asked. Victor blinked and looked down. Forerunner lay there, barely breathing. Seri knelt by him. The portal lay a few feet away. He didn’t remember moving away from it, yet here he stood.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Victor spun to see an older man staring at them. He wore tattered clothing and had dark splotches on his skin… wait… hadn’t Seri described meeting a man like this?

  “You!” Seri cried. “How…?”

  The older man glanced over his shoulder, then hurried toward them. “You should not be here at this time,” he said. “This is all wrong.” He barely glanced at Victor, then looked down at Forerunner. “And what are you doing with him, of all people?”

  “You have power!” Seri pointed at him. “I know it. I don’t know whether you’re really the King or not, but I can see your power. Can you heal him?”

  The supposed King shook his head. “I don’t possess that kind of power, my dear. You should know that.”

  “It’s… all right,” Forerunner said. “I… did what I thought was right.”

  “You saved me!” Seri said. “I can’t let you die!”

  “There is no Bond… I am not human and bound by your Law.”

  “I don’t care! How can I save you? Where’s Calu?”

  “You mean that one?” The older man pointed with his spear. “He’s not in any condition to help you right now.”

  Victor looked and found Calu lying on his back not far away. His eyes were closed, but his chest rose and fell.

  “…said I would die like a man.” Forerunner’s voice had grown faint.

  “You don’t have to,” Seri said. “Hang on. We’ll find someone and…”

  “They mean you harm, Seri. Do not trust them.” Victor and Seri both had to lean in to hear Forerunner.

  “Who does he mean?” Victor asked.

  The old man sighed and leaned on his spear. “He means the gods.”

  Marshal raced up the steps, feeling better than he had in days. Behind him, he heard Dravid cursing the stairs. He would catch up when he could. For now, Marshal had a purpose, and a job to do.

  He burst out on the platform and looked around. Talinir! Here! Alive! And he fought against Volraag’s assassin with the help of Ixchel. But where was Seri? And Victor? Volraag stood alone on the southern platform, but he looked different. Larger. Wilder.

  “Volraag!” he cried. “Face me!”

  His half-brother turned, a smile of ecstasy on his face. Marshal hesitated. Volraag’s eyes glowed, like Wolf’s. What had happened to him?

  “Marshal! Not quite dead after all, eh?” Volraag spread his arms, and his hands curled into fists. “Come, brother! Let us end this face to face!”

  Marshal felt his power building up inside him. He locked eyes with his brother’s glowing ones. “Let us,” he responded. And the power erupted.

  Talinir dodged another strike fr
om Rathri. He could not ignore the evidence any longer.

  “Ixchel! Go help Marshal!”

  The warrior woman nodded and disengaged, leaving Talinir alone versus the assassin. Time to learn the truth. The fundamental basis of all Rathri’s fighting came from the Eldanim. More specifically, it came from the same warden training Talinir himself had experienced.

  “How can you be a warden?” he cried. “You’re human!”

  “I have never been human.”

  Talinir’s mind raced. He could see Seri and Victor in the Otherworld, speaking with Janaab. But Rathri was not there. He had no presence, no essence at all in the Otherworld. That meant…

  “You unfolded yourself into this world,” he realized. “And then did something horrific enough that a curse came for you.” Which meant Rathri’s true curse went far beyond his leprous appearance. He had been trapped in a human body, cut off from the Starlit Realm.

  Talinir deflected Rathri’s swords with his own and leaned in. “How long?” he asked. How long had he been like this?

  Rathri leaned back. “Lifetimes!” he snarled. In a moment, he reversed the attack, slashing at Talinir. “Humans did this to me. And I will see them all suffer for it!”

  “The gods?” Seri looked up. “What do you mean?”

  The old man pointed toward Calu again. He stirred and began to lift himself off the ground. “Like that one,” he said. “The other race that lives here. They came to humanity long ago and proclaimed themselves to be gods.”

  “You mean… the ones our people worshipped before learning of Theon and his Law,” Seri said. “They’re here? Oh, the golden people!”

  The man nodded. “You’ve seen them then. I should have expected that.”