Curse Breaker: Books 1-4

by Melinda Kucsera

  “Done and done, and if you’ve nothing to add, we’ll take our leave.”

  Nulthir said nothing as he collapsed into the padded chair behind his desk. He looked worn around the edges. For a long moment, the captain of the Guards blinked at his interrupted correspondence before searching for his quill.

  Jerlo swung the door open and ushered Gregori out before either said what they were thinking. How could this fiend know about Sarn?

  The file in Gregori’s sweating hand was a millstone, crushing him with worry. Five years ago, the Kid had healed up enough to need occupation, so Ranispara had taken him on patrol. Could the kidnapper have seen the Kid then?

  As they entered Jerlo’s office, Reptilian eyes glared at Gregori demanding an answer. He sat surrounded by Jerlo’s newest acquisition—a quartet of man-sized dragons. The commander’s obsession had gone way beyond good taste. But it was his office, and Jerlo could surround himself with depictions of giant, bat-winged serpents if he chose. It would be nice if he left a dragon-free zone for visitors though.

  But the answer was yes. Someone could have seen Sarn then. Gregori cursed, and for once, Jerlo let him.

  The commander’s steady gaze confirmed his thoughts ran on a parallel track.

  “You agree these disappearances are too regular to be a coincidence?”

  Gregori bounced the file on his knee. “No argument here. Boys go missing every January, March, May, July, September, and November as regular as Mount Eredren’s bells. Worse still, the six boys who disappear each year are always the same age as Sarn. That’s not a coincidence. That's a message.”

  “Agreed. Reports of the boys who vanished in November all arrived within three days of the Kid’s birthday. Once is a coincidence, five is a warning.”

  Jerlo squared a stack of papers, so it lay even with the two piles flanking him.

  “What’s this person or persons doing with them? Is he kidnapping young men for kicks?”

  “We need to find out.”

  “Do you have a theory?”

  Silence rolled a tense blanket over them. There were only two ways kidnapping could end—death or slavery. Shayari had a profitable skin trade flourishing despite the illegality of it.

  “Will we find a pile of bodies somewhere? I’m not sure I can handle such a gruesome sight.”

  Gregori shifted the file, but it still weighed him down.

  “I don’t know.”

  “We have to do something. If there’s someone out there making these boys disappear, we must stop him. We can’t let him get his hands on Sarn.”

  Gregori squeezed the file until his knuckles ached. We must prevent the Kid from falling into the hands of another psychopath. Bad enough it had happened once.

  Gregori rubbed his eyes to wipe away the images, and his fingers came away wet. One glance could have saved everyone a lot of grief. And he’d regret that for the rest of his life.

  “How long have you known about this?”

  Jerlo collapsed into a chair behind his desk. He picked up a dragon-shaped inkwell then set it down again.

  “Not long, Nulthir only took over as captain in late January. And those meetings I mentioned were his idea. Oh, I had meetings with his predecessor, but they were more of a quarterly thing, and we didn't say much at them. He brought this to my attention maybe a month ago when it became apparent there was a pattern. I asked him to do some digging to see if there were others, and you’re looking at the results.”

  Gregori drummed his fingers on the file. Another three victims would vanish before the year ended unless someone stopped this.

  “You want me to find this creep before he finds Sarn.”

  Jerlo wagged a finger.

  “I want us, the Rangers, to end this. Period.”

  “Can we put the Kid under armed guard day and night in the meantime?”

  Jerlo covered his face with his hands. “We could, but I don’t want the Kid to know about this. He has enough problems.”

  “But how can we keep him safe when we don’t know where he goes by day?”

  Jerlo turned his dragon-shaped inkwell, and its eyes bored into Gregori.

  “We don’t have to. The Kid’s difficult to find because of where he goes.”

  “And where's that?”

  “Reread the file, and you’ll understand.”

  Leafing through the case summaries a second time, Gregori looked up startled by a sudden realization. Lord Joranth had indentured Sarn six years ago. His Indentured status restricted the Kid’s movements in and around the mountain stronghold. But none of the twenty-seven missing boys were indentured.

  “The Kid lives with the rest of the Indentured in the ‘Lower Quarters.’ Either the kidnapper doesn’t know that or can’t go down there himself.”

  Jerlo nodded. “You hit on my working theory. If he were operating in the Lower Quarters, we might not have found out about the disappearances at all.”

  “How do you know Sarn goes down there?”

  Jerlo showed his teeth in a predator’s imitation of a smile then let the strange expression go before it thoroughly creeped Gregori out.

  “I’ve had people tail him often enough to be sure. There are reports of the Kid using the most trafficked entrances to the place over the years. And no, I don’t know exactly where in that rat’s nest he lives.”

  Gregori drummed his fingers on that file. Catching this creep would be tough. They had no proof of anything. All they had were a whole lot of suppositions.

  Jerlo looked Gregori square in the eye. “No more tests, do you hear me?

  Gregori looked away and nodded. “I’ll keep both eyes on the Kid as often as I can, and I’ll get on this right now unless you have something else?”

  “There’s one more thing.”

  Silence followed Jerlo’s ominous announcement. Shadows stretched long fingers from the edges of the cluttered office drawing Gregori’s eyes to the floor-to-ceiling dragon statues. He shuddered as their glowing crystal eyes fixed on him.

  Jerlo leaned back in his bureaucratic throne, and his hands caressed its dragon-head arm rests. “Do you know what an ‘irreplaceable asset’ is?”

  Gregori could have taken a stab at defining the term, but this was Jerlo’s show, and the commander was building up to something big. So he shook his head.

  “The Kid—Sarn—is an irreplaceable asset. You’d better pray he returns in good health. If he doesn’t, you'll inherit his debt, and you can bet your ass Lord Joranth Nalshira will prosecute you.”

  Jerlo’s hooded eyes tracked every twitch of his quarry. “Under title 42, chapter 21, section 1982, you’re facing at least sixty years of hard labor to work off the useful lifespan of the irreplaceable asset you lost.”

  Gregori goggled at his boss—sixty years of hard labor because of one stupid test?

  Jerlo swiveled his chair to the left, lifted a dusty tome off a nearby stack and shoved it at Gregori. Its leather cover strained to hold onto the three-inch stack of papers it housed.

  “You're looking at the entire Shayarin legal code. The loose pages are recent amendments. You’ll find the relevant laws highlighted on pages 1299-1303. Read the marked passages subtitled ‘Indentured’ and ‘Irreplaceable Assets’ if you don't believe me. Or I could quote them to you, your choice.”

  Gregori pawed at the cracking cover with nerveless fingers. No way, they won’t send me to prison.

  “This is a grave matter. One you obviously aren’t taking seriously enough. I thought our chat three years ago had ended this issue, but I was wrong.”

  “The Kid’s not irreplaceable. They must have a dozen boys like him at the Flesh Market.”

  As soon as the words left Gregori’s mouth, he wanted to retract them. They were the exact wrong thing to say. And the Flesh Market itself was a horrible thing.

  “No, there’s no one else like the Kid, not at the Flesh Market, maybe not even in this country. If you don’t believe me, swing by their stalls. All you’ll find are pale
imitations.”

  “How do you know?”

  Gregori shoved the legal code away from him.

  Jerlo raised a mocking brow.

  “How do you think?”

  No, it was too horrible to contemplate. How could Jerlo visit those slave pens?

  “When did you go there?”

  “After what I thought was the last test. Three years ago, the Kid crawled back, so dizzy from a concussion he couldn’t stand up. I needed to know how much trouble you were in if he didn’t recover.”

  “But he did recover. There’s not a mark on him from that test.”

  “Yes, and I thought I’d put the fear of God in you then. But you spirited him off again, and this time, the stakes are higher.”

  Jerlo stabbed the title stamped on the book’s cover with his index finger.

  “Mark my words, the Kid is irreplaceable for more reasons than you realize. I can’t protect you from Lord Joranth’s wrath. I warned you three years ago. You should have heeded my warning.”

  Well, Gregori was heeding it now. That stupid Kid had better return in one piece. Gregori picked up the file and rose from his chair feeling flayed by their conversation.

  “Is there anything else?” he asked, managing to keep his voice firm even though inside he was quaking.

  Jerlo waved at his office door, in a clear dismissal.

  “Keep this all quiet for now but see what you can find out. I want to break the disappearances to the others in stages. I don’t want anyone jumping to any conclusions until we know more about what’s going on.”

  Gregori nodded; he could picture Ranispara and Nolo’s reactions to the kidnappings. They’d both stroke over it. But there was no need to worry them yet.

  “What about the Kid? He should know to watch his back.”

  Jerlo shook his head. “Don't tell Sarn about any of this.”

  “Why? The Kid has a right to know.”

  “The Kid has enough problems. I’m ordering you to say nothing to him about any of what we discussed.”

  Gregori met his boss’ steely stare but dropped his gaze when the commander’s eyes bored too deep for comfort.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good.”

  Gregori left, closing the inner door to Jerlo’s office with more force than necessary. A sick feeling erupted in the pit of his stomach pushing him into a lumbering run. What if the kidnapper had been on the boat earlier today?

  It was more than possible given the two-month span between reported disappearances.

  Gregori poured on more speed, taking the twists and turns shouting for folks to make a hole. What if instead of a test, I handed the Kid a one-way ticket to death or slavery?

  Chapter 11

  “What the hell does he want?” Ranispara pointed eastwards.

  Nolo looked where she’d indicated but stopped when he caught sight of Gregori heading their way.

  “What are you doing here?” Nolo asked the man who’d just strode within earshot.

  “What do you think? I came to see if my little experiment worked. By the looks of things, it did.”

  Gregori turned smug eyes eastwards and crossed his arms over his chest.

  The man looked unrepentant and unpunished. What penalty had the commander imposed?

  “What experiment? What did you do to him?”

  Nolo grasped his friend by his tunic and shook him. But Gregori was tired from all his scheming, so he swayed.

  “You look awful.”

  Nolo steadied his friend. Later he could square things between them. Right now, nothing else mattered except getting Sarn back safe and sound.

  “Good, he deserves it,” Ranispara muttered.

  “It’s been a busy day.”

  Gregori shrugged and put some distance between himself and everyone else.

  Maybe he thought his fellow Rangers intended to engage in more fisticuffs. The thought had crossed Nolo’s mind, but he put it away. Another fracas would do no one any good, least of all Sarn.

  They all turned their attention back to the line of trees beyond the twin stone circles. A tense silence enfolded them as the forest divided. Trees stood like two armies facing each other across a narrow battlefield.

  Nolo jogged toward it, followed by Ranispara and Gregori. Enchanted monoliths framed an honest to God pathway, creating a straight shot through the forest for an uncountable number of miles.

  Gregori laughed so hard, he leaned against a menhir to stay on his feet.

  “Oh, you brilliant boy—I knew you had it in you.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? Speak sense man,” Nolo demanded, rounding on his friend.

  Gregori shook his head unable or unwilling to get a grip on his mirth.

  A rhythmic pounding interrupted further attempts to get the man talking. All eyes returned to the forest as it erupted into a sea of grappling branches.

  “What’s happening?”

  Gregori retreated, his eyes wide and horrified.

  “Stay back!”

  Nolo threw out an arm and shoved Ranispara behind him.

  Two refulgent green ribbons shot through that sylvan chaos, clearing a path through the violence. But as Nolo watched, those ribbons sparked and frayed as they broke apart. The pathway narrowed as the fighting trees gave ground. Before it disappeared completely, Sarn slid through the gap.

  Nolo caught the Kid as he collapsed and dragged him across the circle of menhirs. A black branch coated in tar slammed into the cordon the stones maintained. For a moment, the air between the menhirs fluoresced a soft white then faded as the branch shattered in a shower of black sparks. Not a single one passed within the circle. They were saved by the Queen of All Trees’ blessing.

  Remembering his charge, Nolo shook the Kid.

  “Sarn? Talk to me.”

  While Sarn stared off, his emerald eyes bled the fire filling them, sending radiant rivers coursing down his pale face.

  “Let go of me.” Sarn struggled against the arms holding him up.

  “Can you stand on your own?”

  Sarn nodded, and the arms holding him fell away, freeing him. The magic cast everything into shades of green, but a few slow blinks banked the fire in his eyes allowing other colors to filter back in.

  Gregori opened his mouth to say something asinine, but Sarn coldcocked the Ranger before he had a chance. Gregori dropped to the ground, but the thud of his body hitting the earth left Sarn empty, spent and now sporting sore knuckles. For some reason, his magic had elected not to soften the blow. He shook his smarting left fist as he stepped over Gregori’s prone form. Nolo stepped in front of Sarn forcing him to halt.

  “Let me go. You owe me.”

  Nolo looked him over, but before Death’s Marksman could speak, Sarn shook his head. He chopped both hands through the air in negation.

  “I won’t go to the fu—” Sarn broke off.

  Cursing will piss off my masters, and I still need an official dismissal. Damn my indenture and its stipulations. Sarn took a breath and tried again.

  “I don’t need to go to the infirmary. I just need to rest.” He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands to stop their burning. “Let me go. Please?”

  Sarn let his hands fall back to his sides and checked to see if his plea had any effect. He started when he noticed the struggle beyond the menhirs. Did the corruption reach Mount Eredren? Is it in my cave?

  He poked his sixth sense, but it ignored his question. Maybe his magic was tired.

  “It can’t pass. We’re safe from whatever is happening out there. And here, I brought you something to eat.”

  Inari gestured to a basket slung over one arm. She stood inside the second ring of standing stones, on the meadow side.

  Sarn wanted Inari to be right, but his gut disagreed. He’d seen too much.

  “You’d better eat something. You don’t look so good,” Ranispara said as she stepped over her husband’s prone form.

  She gave Sarn a dip of the chin acknowledg
ing something. Maybe she respects the way I handled Gregori.

  Hunger assailed Sarn forcing him to table that for later. His boots slid off his shoulder and thudded on the ground. Sarn ignored them and staggered toward Inari and her basket of goodies. What culinary masterpiece lay under that checked fabric?

  Lead filled his legs, but when he crossed that last threshold, he met no resistance. Nothing hindered him except his exhausted muscles and this curious lightness.

  Am I floating? Can I fly back to my son?

  A quick downward glance confirmed both his numb feet touched the ground. Sarn swayed. Did Inari retreat or did the world recede?

  The ground rose to meet Sarn cushioning his fall. He lay there unable to move as three voices blurred together. They tossed around the dreaded I-word—infirmary.

  “I’m not hurt,” he tried to say as everything faded to black. I’m sorry son. I tried.

  Nolo rushed forward too late to catch the toppling youth. Sarn lay flat on his belly and mumbled something about ‘killer trees' and ‘mud men.’ His body tensed and shook as a seizure claimed him.

  Everything stopped, and the sudden silence drew all their gazes to the forest. Not a single branch moved. All the trees’ attention focused on the Kid thrashing at Nolo’s feet.

  “Stay back.”

  He threw out both his arms to hold back Ranispara and his wife.

  “Give him room. It won’t last long.”

  “How long?” Inari asked. “How long has he suffered like this?”

  Nolo met her concerned eyes but said nothing. He must concentrate to gauge the length and severity of the seizure. Come on Kid, snap out of it. You’ve survived worse.

  “How long has this been going on?”

  Inari’s question cut across the pep talk looping in Nolo’s head.

  “Since Hadrovel,” Ranispara answered, taking the burden of explanation on her slender shoulders. “We don’t know if it happened before that monster got ahold of him.”

  “I thought there wasn’t any brain damage?”

  Inari’s dark eyes shot back and forth between her husband and her friend seeking confirmation.