“I know how fast you can run. If you spent twenty-four hours running, you wouldn’t be able to move right now. And I don’t see you having any difficulty. I’ll ask you one more time. Where were you this morning? Why didn’t you come home?”
Magic forced Sarn to speak the truth, but not the whole truth. He could leave out the problematic parts if he was careful with his wording.
“I spent most of the day on my feet.”
A flash of orange drew Sarn to the orange lumir sticks lighting the cave.
“What religious order wears orange robes?”
“I don’t know. Give me a minute.”
Miren rifled through the books littering the table.
“Thanks, I appreciate you looking it up,” and taking one mystery off my hands.
Sarn pointed to the soap resting next to the pail catching water weeping off a stalactite.
“Wash your hands.”
Ran shrugged and set to cleaning himself with extra care.
“Where did you see them?” Miren asked.
“They were on a boat sailing east on the Nirthal on a fast tack. I didn’t like the looks of them.”
“And the Rangers didn’t know who they were?”
“I didn’t get a chance to ask them.”
The interview in Jerlo’s office flashed past with no mention of orange-robed sailors. Maybe hunger made me forget about them.
Ran held his hands up for inspection reminding Sarn to clean the bowls in his hands. He gave them one last rinse and detoured to check on the stew. It needed a few more minutes, but the peaches had warmed enough to satisfy him. After pouring them into bowls, he handed one to Miren then sat on the floor by the fire pit. Ran picked peaches out of their bowl and smiled between bites.
“Got it. They’re from—” Miren trailed off then continued in a shaky voice. “They’re Seekers of Truth. They’re—oh God—they’re—you saw—”
Seekers—damn—the one religious order with a hard on for destruction of all things magical. It figures.
“Did they see you?”
Sarn shook his head. The forest green of his clothes and the scrub dotting that cliff had camouflaged his descent.
“They didn’t see me.”
Sarn relaxed as his magic confirmed it.
Still, both the forest and the ghost had tried to stop him. Hell, even his magic had tried to warn him about the Seekers. Why did I ignore them?
Sarn fished out a peach section and ate it. Honey gagged him. He moved the bowl out of Ran’s reach, and the boy followed the peaches.
Thoughts of what could have happened pursued Sarn across the cave. Gregori—that jerk—he must have known. That mountain of muscle had set the whole thing up. Had that jerk hoped I’d blunder into the Seekers? They’d have killed me on sight and ended twenty years of hiding.
Every shadow took on a sinister air, but his eyes brightened, throwing radiant spears at their retreating backs. Sarn squeezed the peaches in his hands. The Seekers were an ugly rumor no one wanted to evoke, and he now had proof they existed. Should I tell Nolo? He had until tomorrow night to decide.
“Sarn?”
“What?”
Sarn realized he’d pulped the peaches. One taste proved they were still good though less sweet. He handed the bowl to Ran, who’d been hopping up and down trying to reach them while he’d indulged in a mental rant.
“I think the stew’s done.”
Miren gestured with his quill to the fire pit where indeed, the contents of the jars bubbled away.
They ate in silence. Miren hunched over his bowl at the table, while Sarn sat on the floor with his son, who picked out the carrots. Miren had more questions, and the longer they went unasked, the more tension mounted.
When he could eat no more, Sarn rose but cleaning up after dinner took only a few minutes. He put the red lumir stones in a lead-lined box out of Ran’s reach, got his son washed up for bed, then ran out of things to do. The watcher was still gone, but it would return because this wasn’t over. It was just beginning.
Disrobing in front of an audience made his skin crawl, so Sarn stayed in his now dry clothes. The twenty years he’d lived had been hard ones, and they’d left a lot of scars. No one had ever seen the extent of them because no one had ever seen him unclothed, not even Ran’s mother.
After pulling a clean shirt over the soiled one, Sarn cast himself onto the thing pretending to be a mattress. It pancaked under him. Ran crawled next to him, stuffed bear in hand, and he pulled the boy in close for a hug.
Peace eluded Sarn and so did sleep even though he had a firm grip on his dozing son. Ran was safe in his keeping, relieving him of one worry. But too many questions remained unanswered and too many strange events were unexplained. Either they're all connected or they're not. How do I even begin to untangle them?
Killer trees, mud creatures, Seekers, ghosts, murders, and that dark cold thing, watching and infecting what it touched. Had any of them found a way past the circle of menhirs into the mountain?
Sarn yawned. I should check. But Ran was a warm weight on his heart, and his magic was busy cocooning his son. It had no interest in doing anything else, and he didn't have the energy to fight with it. He needed the temporary reprieve sleep offered.
Ran shined to his other senses, and the reflected glow was making Sarn sleepy. At least I made one person happy. Miren's still upset at me, but I'll smooth things over tomorrow, when both our tempers have cooled.
And I must tell someone about the Seekers and the box they loaded onto their boat. He’d only caught a glimpse of it. What could interest an order of magic-haters? Will they come here to Mount Eredren?
Sarn closed his eyes and circles both whole and broken superimposed themselves over the ever-present green glow of his magic. He’d almost forgotten about them. They were one more mystery lumped in with the rest. How do they relate?
Whispers startled him, but he was so tired. Sleep grabbed his hand before Sarn could open his eyes. It was a faceless creature wearing the orange robes of the Seekers and it was dragging him down into a dark abyss.
“Papa, what’s that?” Ran whispered.
But his son was so far away and getting further by the moment. Before that slender thread of consciousness snapped, Sarn sent a burst of magic back as those dark voices drowned out his son's repeated calls. Protect him, please because I can't.
Ran smiled and pillowed his head on Papa’s chest. He was safe, warm and loved, despite the odd feeling in his gut.
Something was coming, something big. Its footsteps vibrated his bones. Ran curled into Papa.
If I stay close, I'll be safe. But only if Papa’s magic was a match for whatever was coming.
Ran squinted, bringing the edge of that magic into focus. It sparked an emerald dome around them gaining in intensity easing his fears. Even when asleep, Papa protects me.
The magic murmured in no language Ran could understand, and under it, Papa’s heart beat a steady rhythm of love. The two sounds merged into a soothing lullaby until a pulse lit up the dome Papa’s magic had cast over them.
As that shield expanded, its edges blurred, and Papa’s magic swallowed the back half of their cave. Green lightning snaked across that dome as it extended emerald tentacles to explore the table where Uncle Miren sat.
A roach skittered away from the magic ignoring his uncle, and a chittering shadow rode it. Is that the bad thing I felt coming this way?
Emboldened by the shield, Ran tried to squirm out from under the arm clamping him to a hard wall of muscle. Papa tended to get overprotective sometimes—as if his magic would ever let anything hurt me.
After a little prying and wriggling, Ran managed to gain some freedom. Another flash lit the room painting everything in green hues. It zapped the roach, disintegrating it into a pile of screaming ash. But it's absence didn’t banish that feeling of impending doom. Something was still coming this way. I should wake Papa.
The sparkly dome phased through the cave�
�s walls. Curiosity suppressed all other thoughts as Ran redoubled his efforts. What’s the magic doing? A little more and—there—he pried his legs free.
Ran snatched up the stuffed Bear reaching for him and scampered to the door. Jumping brought the handle within reach. He got a finger on it—then two—and pulled. The door opened revealing a curtain of emerald sparks woven together by green flashes. Ran flinched as a big hand seized his shoulder and turned him around. He faced an angry Uncle Miren, who shook Ran as he spoke.
“I asked you a question. What are you doing? You know you’re not allowed out alone.”
Ran opened his mouth to tell his uncle about the bad thing coming this way, but the magic receded, blanketing him in soothing light as it turned him away from the door. He gave ground, his sock covered feet sliding on the rough floor vibrating with every step the bad thing took, but he still couldn't see it. The magic lifted Ran, and removed him from his uncle’s grasp.
For a moment, Uncle Miren stood there, then he blinked, but his gaze passed through Ran as if he was invisible. Uncle Miren shut the door, shook his head and stormed back to his studies. He walked through the radiant tide carrying Ran without reacting to it and returned to his schoolwork muttering about little boys.
Well, two could play that game. “I'm not bad. I'm a good boy. That's what Papa always says.”
Uncle Miren ignored him, but that was okay because only Papa spoke the truth all the time. So only his opinion counted and he was sleeping. Magic welled up, cradling Ran as it tucked him back into his sleeping Papa’s arms. But the light show wasn’t over yet nor had the bad thing arrived. Maybe it’d gotten lost. The tunnels were awfully twisty around here. Ran struggled to lift the arm confining him so he could see more than a small slice of the cave.
The radiant bubble flared as it extruded luminous feelers in all directions. Excitement gripped Ran when fuzzy lines formed on the transparent green dome surrounding them. Maybe the magic will tell me what's coming. It must know.
Ran cast a covert glance at his uncle, but Miren never looked up from the page in front of him. No doubt he was working on the same assignment he'd been working on all day.
Ran smiled. He had Papa, and Papa’s magic, all to himself still—no sharing. He hugged Bear and tried to interpret the images the magic created.
Tall things with long ropy limbs shifted about and melted into a boy’s face. Blobby things fell into a hole the big things covered up. They flashed past in a dizzy dance—as if Papa was running now. Ran closed his eyes as the frenetic pace of the imagery made his tummy flip over. He willed the peaches to stay down. Sweet and spiced with cinnamon, they formed a warm, delicious weight in his belly.
Papa shifted. When he stilled again, Ran risked a glance. A new image projected itself on the emerald dome arching over them—a boat. The scenery careened by at a nauseating speed again as Papa resume running.
“Let me go—” Papa said, but Uncle Miren’s loud page flipping drowned out his words. Unlike Uncle Miren, Papa was soft-spoken and never raised his voice.
“No,” Ran gripped the arm holding him, “You’re my Papa.”
Papa rolled onto his side, still mumbling. But the rolled-up blanket serving as his pillow muffled his speech. Since Ran had been using Papa’s chest as a mattress, it took a few minutes’ squirming to get turned around.
A face coalesced in the shadowed corner on the opposite side of Papa’s magic barrier. Ran shivered at the sight of the boy-thing; there was something wrong with him. He was older than Ran by a couple of years, and the rocky floor passed right through the crouching boy’s feet. His eyes were two empty staring bowls.
“Are you a bad thing?”
It didn’t answer. Maybe it couldn't hear him. It was a real boy once, but not anymore. Whatever had happened to it had robbed it of more than substance. The not-boy-thing touched the sparkly barrier with a translucent finger and recoiled.
Ran smiled. His fear of the thing in the corner evaporated. Papa protected him even when asleep.
“What do you want?”
Ran checked to see if Uncle Miren had unearthed himself from his school work—nope. No doubt his uncle was trying to make up for staying home.
Glaring at the thing, Ran repeated his question, but he received only silence. A bell tolled distracting him, and he counted twenty-two peals. Ran frowned, and his brow puckered. I counted twenty before Papa came back. Where did twenty-one go? Did I miscount?
Ran looked away from his fingers, expecting to see the creature wasn’t a boy anymore. But only shadows remained where the boy-thing had crouched. The tolling bells had scared him off. Now I'll never find out what it was. The images had ceased their projection also. I'll ask a lot of questions tomorrow. Maybe Papa will be in a talkative mood. It happened sometimes.
“You saw it,” Ran whispered to Bear.
In the reflected glow of Papa’s magic, Bear’s button eyes offered understanding.
Good, I'll talk this whole strange affair over with Bear and Papa in the morning. Ran yawned and shifted. Papa was mostly bone and hard muscle, but he found a comfy niche for himself.
Something was still coming, but so was sleep. Or it was until Papa’s shield shattered into gleaming shards that vanished when they hit the floor. Shadows drew close since his magic no longer lit the cave. Before Ran could scream, green light scythed through the darkness. Papa had awoken.
Ran escaped the arm holding him and inched himself up until he was nose-to-nose. Papa had a faraway look in his eyes.
Do you see bad things coming this way? But all Ran said aloud was: “Papa?”
Because that one-word question said it all. And part of him didn't want to know. That not-boy thing disturbed him. It, too, had green eyes.
“Hmm?”
Papa rubbed his glowing eyes, and his hand cast shadows on the wall.
“Why’re you sad?”
“I’m not sad.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I can’t be sad because I have you, and you make me happy.”
Ran smiled as Papa pulled him into a hug. He ended up in his usual spot with his ear pressed against a heart whose tempo lulled him and chased away the worry worming through his heart. After all, that not-boy thing might have been just like him once, and that was a scary thought.
Yawning, Ran hugged Bear and put that worry out of mind. He smiled his thanks for the little adventure he’d had. Papa’s always so good to me.
Thoughts of tomorrow and a bigger adventure to come chased him down into sleep. I can’t wait to find out what Papa has planned. He had a feeling it would have something to do with the pictures Papa’s magic had showed him, and the thought thrilled him until he remembered the not-boy thing.
Chapter 13
Unable to get past the introduction to his essay about Shayari’s political system, Miren gave up. Where did you go, brother? You were gone for twenty-four hours.
True, Miren had slept for nine of those hours but the others—I was awake and worried. Whatever had happened out there, I can handle it even if it involved magic. I'll be fifteen in four months.
Miren glared at the crossed-out lines on the page before him. He’d rewritten the same sentence three times before tossing his quill down in disgust. Magic. It always circled back to that dreaded M-word. Sarn had it. He didn't. It shouldn’t matter but it did.
Sarn always clams up when magic's involved. And there was no getting around that no matter how hard Miren tried.
You do too much, Brother. And there was no way to make Sarn cut back either. The stupid fool thought no one would pick up the slack.
Miren’s conscience pricked him, but he ignored it. I went without supper when I was Ran’s age. Missing one meal would make the child appreciate his next one even more.
Yawning, Miren shoved the books he needed for the next day’s classes into a worn rucksack. Why did you refuse to tell me what happened? He glared at his sleeping brother’s back.
With Sarn, there was no kn
owing because his magic-addled brother functioned on a logic unique to him. The older Miren got, the wider the gap between him and his brother became.
Another yawn convinced him to retire. Rising unaided, he left his crutch leaning against the wall and hobbled over to the mattress. He didn't see the ghost staring at his sleeping nephew. But he felt the intense cold of its aura when he walked through the ghost and left a bit of himself behind.
Why is it so cold in here? Rubbing his arms, Miren searched for a blanket as a green flash streaked across his dull eyes and died out. The sight emboldened the shadows crouching in the cave’s corners. As they crept closer, Miren shivered harder.
He wrapped a blanket around himself and cursed his brother. Damn you, Sarn. How could someone so thin take up so much space?
Curled up on his side, Sarn lay with his back to Miren and his son in his arms. The little rascal looked comfy as he drooled on Sarn’s tunic.
Jealousy knifed through Miren’s heart. He shoved at a shield he could neither see nor sense until there was enough room to lie down. It was an invisible pressure on his skin, but he ignored it.
Just four hundred and ninety-nine more days until my sixteenth birthday and the end of my formal education. Then I'll be with my brother every waking moment. And that would annoy the hell out of his nephew. Miren smiled, picturing the imp’s reaction.
A knock at the door roused him. Go away; he thought hard at the door and their late-night visitor.
But no, the knocker bore down on the door with determined fists. Then a female voice cut through the knocking and Miren groaned. It was those gods-damned Foundlings.
Morraina called Sarn’s name again. But Sarn had fallen into a sleep so deep nothing external registered. Why did the Foundlings send her as their emissary?
Miren stumbled to the door and slipped out into the tunnel as the patter of little feet warned of his nephew’s approach. Damn it. Now I must bribe the gabby boy to silence him.
Curse Breaker: Books 1-4 Page 16