When Ran reached the column, he eased around its backside and stayed there watching his father with anxious eyes. Under his breath, he begged Bear to come. Bear was magical too. Bear would save Papa and keep him from doing that martyr thing Mama used to complain about.
“Hold on Papa. Bear will save us. He beat the shadow monster.”
Such an incredible claim could only be made by a four-year-old. This had gone beyond Sarn’s meager skill. What had Dirk done? How can I undo it?
“Hold on Papa!”
“I’ll try.” Sarn held on hoping all this stretching wouldn’t increase his stature. He was already freakishly tall. Pain shot through his spine, but he couldn’t let go. Ran’s terrified eyes held him hostage. He would not orphan his son. I won’t leave you alone.
Bear Will Save Us
In a cave, on a ratty mattress, a stuffed bear reclined. His button eyes stared through the stalactites dripping on his cloth anchor. Out of that stuffed effigy, a black bear rose. Gray light limned his pudgy body as he flew past a table crowded with books, the remains of breakfast and a lumir stick giving off a cheery orange glow. Nothing in this sparsely furnished hovel indicated a powerful mage and his family lived here except the mark fluorescing on the floor.
It was her mark. Sarn had put it there to protect his son never realizing her calling card functioned as a doorway to her presence. It was the best protection his son could have. Of course, the adorable rascal also had Bear to watch over him and he was no supernatural slouch.
Bear tapped the greater circle enclosing one hundred and forty-three smaller, interlocking circles and the world went white. When Bear could see again, he floated on a ridge long ago eroded by time and war. The Queen of All Trees perched there, standing as always at the brink. Before her, a storm gathered. Its brown clouds boiled up from God knew where and lightning lashed at its interior.
The Queen of All Trees regarded the oncoming nightmare with her usual equanimity. Her silver branches remained at full extension despite the nearness of the foul thing on the horizon. It would reach her first, but she would stand fast against its corruption as she had done since time immemorial. She was the last bastion of hope because she had never fallen, not in any age.
“So, who let that creep back in?” Bear asked though he already knew the answer—descendants of the people who had sealed him out. “Was it mankind or the magic-kind who sent the invitation this time?”
“Does it matter? His hand is on the board and his touch affects all the pieces.”
“Even a budding curse breaker?” And his enigma of a son? But Bear kept all mention of the sweet child out of their discussion.
Ran was a pleasant surprise and one hell of a twist. His father was a huge magical loophole, but a known quantity nonetheless. There had been curse breakers of his caliber in the past. If the dark art of cursing remains the easiest magic to master, there would be plenty of curse breakers in the future too.
Unfortunately, none of the past ones had embraced parenthood and produced any viable offspring. So, what was the child of a gigantic loophole? No one knew but all the powers that be watched and wondered.
Bear glanced at her gleaming trunk. The Queen of All Trees dwarfed him, which was only proper since she was a thousand-feet tall.
“I don’t know.”
Bear’s spirit form flickered. Ran called him with the desperate fear only a small child could muster. But the boy was with his father. How could Ran be in danger? What had Sarn done now?
“Go,” she said, “save them.”
“What about you?”
“I have business elsewhere.”
“What kind of business?”
She didn’t answer, nor did she have to.
“The Adversary, right?”
The Queen of All Trees faded out, taking her light with her, but he had his answer. Bear floated back into his cloth shell and blinked his button eyes until he could see out of them. The view was a little blurry, but a quick swipe of his paw fixed that. Sarn’s messy cave came into focus and with it, the interlocking circles that made up her symbol. Their glow guttered, dying in an ill-wind that stank of the Adversary.
Oh, you stupid, stupid boy, what have you done now? Bear shook his head and trotted toward the door. He tweaked his spirit home en route until he was no longer toy-sized.
“Bear! Help us!”
Hang on lad, Bear’s coming.
Darkness broke over Dirk. It clawed at his skin, peeled it back and pawed at his insides. What was it seeking? Something buried in the marrow of his bones?
Something large and scaly brushed his bare arm and raised his hackles.
Oh, God, were those screams echoing in the dark? A boot applied itself to his ribs before its owner passed on.
Ink poured down his throat, choking Dirk and drowning out all thought. Then a tickle made him gag. Something was coming out, drawn by the darkness. Past his parting lips, a shining cord emerged. As that thread unwound from his core, he unraveled. Laughter met the frantic screams tearing out of his throat.
A sharp crack sent pain lancing through his cheek. Dirk opened his eyes, surprised those orbs were still in their sockets and capable of sight. But something was missing. He felt the void inside him where something had once dwelled. Now only an ache remained. The darkness lightened revealing a blurry, man-shaped hump.
Again, that cold hand slapped Dirk. This time the sting jolted some sense back into him. Dirk shoved that hand away before it could deliver another slap and sat up. For a scintilla of a moment, Black tubular things reached out of the pit. Bodies dangled from some of them. Dirk blinked, and they vanished. Did I imagine them?
“Take it easy you've had a bit of a fright,” said the man squatting beside Dirk.
He was made of ink and shadow. Dirk blinked, but the hooded figure remained. An errant breeze ruffled his black robes revealing shadows, but no legs. The man has no legs. No hint of his face showed, just a pool of shadow where recognizable features should dwell. The faceless man has no legs!
Dirk shivered. Fear shot through him and a voice gibbered in his head. Beyond the pale, the faceless man waits. He recoiled from the voice and the sight until memory punted a rational thought into his head.
The faceless man held out a bony hand and morphed into a solid, miner type complete with coal dusting his face. Ah, it was just what’s his name, the sixth member of their little band. The one with the banal, forgettable name—something with an ‘A.’
“Is something wrong?” asked the miner.
Dirk shook his head. That strange feeling of incompleteness faded as he took what’s his name’s hand. “No, it’s just this queer place making me hallucinate.”
The miner echoed his nod. “Yes, this place does tend to addle the mind. We shouldn’t linger.”
“Agreed.” Dirk dusted himself off and glanced around for the others. He didn’t see them, but it was quite dark in here. Gore, Rags, Vill, and Cris could be standing ten-feet away and he’d never see them. Not with the thin light shafting down from a crack in the ceiling. It was so feeble, it lightened the gloom only enough to see whatever his name was and only just barely. “Did you notice anything?”
“Did you get the rock?” the miner countered.
A good question, had he? Dirk patted his pockets and withdrew a lump. It bent the light, so it fell on that matte black stone, but not beyond it. The rock overflowed his hand, and it was quite heavy, at least ten pounds.
“Your buyer should be pleased with that.”
“Yes, she will be.”
Its rough facets entranced Dirk. They drank in that feeble light letting none fall past it onto the ground. All the weirdness of the last half hour drained into that stone.
“What just happened?” Dirk asked.
“Nothing you need to be concerned about. We’re all right.”
Behind their sixth man, four man-shapes picked themselves up and dusted themselves off while they grumbled and ribbed each other. It was just like old
times except for the darkness. Poking around the forgotten corners of Mount Eredren was bound to become a surreal experience at some point. At least they were all together and in one piece. They were in one piece, weren’t they?
Dirk tried to confirm that, but his friends remained hazy outlines against the blackness choking this cave—tunnel—whatever. Between one blink and the next, the pervasive gloom rippled and parted to reveal those tubular things and their grisly human meat puppets again.
Dirk fell back a pace horrified at the sight. Those things can't be real. But oh, how their dead eyes glitter in the light. A chill sliced through Dirk and he shivered. It felt like someone had walked over his grave.
“Put that thing away before it attacks us again.” Crisso staggered over brandishing a silver cloth.
It reflected the light from somewhere, directing its beam onto those tentacles and the bodies they had impaled.
A middle-aged woman turned her head and mouthed the words, “Help Me,” before she passed out.
The dead woman’s arm fell to her side and her hand opened like the petals of a flower. Something light-colored clattered to the ground and rolled.
Gore stomped on the object but didn't grumble about it or pick it up. He just stood there as mute as a three-dimensional shadow.
“Well? What did she drop? Aren't you even curious about it?”
Gore shook his head. “It’s just a trinket. Nothing to worry about.”
Behind his obstinate friend, those macabre tentacles retreated into the gloom with their grisly prizes. Gore's body seemed to waver, like a silk streamer in the wind generated by their withdrawal. In fact, all of Dirk’s friends were billowing in that foul breeze. Even Cris, though he was still the most detailed and life-like of the four. The others seemed flat as if they inhabited only two-dimensions instead of the three of normal folk.
Or something’s missing from them, but what could be missing? Dirk shoved the thought away. He had a buyer impatiently waiting.
He rubbed his eyes with his free hand. I must get out of here. This place is messing with my head.
The silvered glass squares tessellating the cloth caught the weak light, but their panes only reflected Dirk as he wrapped it around the pretend light-stealer. It didn’t reflect Cris even though his shadowed friend stood at his elbow. Very strange, but then, this was an afternoon fraught with such oddities.
Just to be safe, Dirk dropped the parcel into a box and shut it. Only then did he lean against the rim of this foul place and take a deep breath.
“We’ve got what we came for, let’s go get paid.” Dirk waved to the Ægeldar’s sole exit. “We’ve got a buyer waiting for her purchase.”
None of his friends argued. Dirk waited, but Villar didn’t question his decision. He glanced at Vill, but the large man was indistinct, not much more than a shadow just like his four mates. Weren’t there just five of them?
Dirk recounted but no, there were only four shadows standing with him. Where had what’s his name gone?
“To acquire more black lumir, of course. You’re going to need more—lots more,” whispered a voice in Dirk’s ear.
And the voice was right. He did need more, lots more. But something wasn’t right about any of this. I’ll sort it out later, outside on the green. Preferably in the sunlight where he could see what was what.
“It was just some shadows and displaced air,” Dirk said aloud more to reassure himself than his friends, who were all acting weird. They didn’t do mute. Yet they were now. “It’s nothing to worry about. We’ll just go get paid.” Dirk hefted the crate onto a cart he’d left in the tunnel. When he turned his back on his friends, the flesh between his shoulders crawled as if weapons were trained on him.
“Maybe you had better wait here and—you know—secure the scene. We’re going to want more. This little beauty isn’t going to satisfy Sister Psycho for long.” Dirk glanced over his shoulder at his too silent compatriots and relaxed when he saw their nods. For a moment there, he’d thought he was alone in this queer place, but that was nonsense. Wasn’t it?
Dirk rushed back to that rickety bridge over the canyon of bones and beyond it, to the Lower Quarters—a place full of life and people.
“And money,” whispered that insidious voice. “There’s money to be made, a con to continue. Let the game begin!” The voice faded into laughter.
Yes, let it. A smile curved Dirk’s cruel mouth then he too laughed along with the voice reverberating in his head.
A black mist licked his feet, and the ground rushed forward. For a split second, he saw those tentacles again. They were slithering with deadly intent through the Lower Quarters in search of prey. Before he could shout a warning to the people he passed, the black mist curled into an advancing wave and Dirk surfed it toward a glimmer far ahead.
Yes, take me outside. Hurry, hurry to the green, to my buyer and the gold in her pockets. Dirk’s laughter took on a hysterical edge as something dropped onto his shoulders.
Smooth scales brushed his cheek. Dirk screamed until a forked tongue explored his ear followed by the low, growling hiss of a pissed off snake.
Dirk gripped the box so hard, his knuckles ached. “The box is mine. You can’t have it!”
The giant snake coiled around his torso, ignoring his outburst in favor of securing its perch. It kept as far as possible from the black wave carrying them forward, fearing its touch. The cobra's yellow eyes dared Dirk to throw it off. Before such thoughts could crystallize, the tunnel blurred, and they shot through a gap into daylight.
Dirk stumbled for a few feet until he caught himself. Thank God, the snake chose that moment to disembark. It slid down his chest and dropped onto the grass. Relieved to be free of its poisonous presence, Dirk ducked back into the tunnel and its dubious safety. He waited for the snake to slither off on its own business before he dared set foot outside again. No con was worth his life, nor any crystal no matter what the lore said about it.
Who knew there were cobras in Shayari. Dirk shuddered, but the venomous creature was gone. So, he stepped into the light his soul thirsted for and the sun blinded him.
As he crossed that brilliant threshold, a shadow peeled away from Dirk and slunk back into the dark confines of the Lower Quarters. It wore a sickle smile of triumph.
Dirk knuckled his eyes to clear them then gave up and started walking. Those gold coins were calling, leading him to the shoreline and the ship where the Seekers waited for their prize.
“Because everybody dies. Yes, everybody dies, and the flies are waiting for their prize.” Dirk whistled the refrain of that strange tune while he strode across the green.
The Ægeldar Unleashed
“Bear!” Ran’s shout was full of relief.
Sarn turned eyes weighted down by an inhuman exhaustion on an approaching gray blob. Whatever it was, soft light suffused its edges giving it a fuzzy appearance.
“Stay back or it’ll get you too.”
The newcomer grunted something then roared at the tentacle stabbing through its ample stomach.
“Bear!” Ran shouted, packing all his hopes into that one syllable.
Were those rounded ears? No, it was impossible and yet, claws slashed through the tentacle impaling it. The tentacle fell into the black mist rolling toward them and vanished. A bear-shaped ghost slashed the black things knotted around Sarn severing them. Sarn rolled onto his stomach and pushed to his knees. A paw caught his arm and yanked Sarn to his feet. He leaned against a ghostly sketch of his son’s stuffed companion. Ran rushed to them. Sarn scooped him up with shaking arms a moment before another tentacle shot out of the darkness. It struck a wall and rebounded, but Bear jumped them ten-feet from where they were, and it missed.
Sarn clutched his son against his racing heart. The tentacle swung around to come at them again. Its coils blocked the exit. There was no escape from this place.
“What is that thing?”
Ghost Bear’s button eyes locked with his, and a voice pushed into
Sarn’s skull. One he recognized. We must go now. It will drain you if you stay.
It was too late for that, but Sarn nodded, even though he had no choice in the matter. “How? The way's blocked.”
In answer, Ghost Bear—or the thing masquerading as his son’s bear—gripped Sarn tighter. A tingling sensation started at the base of his skull and spread through Sarn as Bear charged.
“What's happening?” Ran held up a translucent hand. His eyes were wide with fear.
Before Sarn could answer, the tentacle struck. Bear leaped, and that tingling sensation intensified. They hit a wall and passed through it to land in deep shadow. No light penetrated the gloom except the vague glow of their savior. Not even Sarn’s eyes glowed and that worried him as Bear gathered itself for another ground-devouring leap.
Every step Bear took jumped them a hundred-feet or more away from whatever Dirk had disturbed. But those tentacles were gaining on them.
“How can we escape?” Sarn glanced over his shoulder and his sight peeled back the stone walls separating him from the Ægeldar. Tentacles extended from its maw and shot between its man-sized teeth. They swept across the tunnel floor seeking them, but Ghost Bear bounded onward, keeping them one jump ahead of those feelers.
Sarn blinked to shut off the images, but they refused to go. A white ball of light was churning in his breast, and it had sunk its own tentacles deep into his mind. But it offered no advice. It was content to sit there and look out of his eyes, making them water, but not glow. Somehow, it had veiled its radiance.
Bear turned a bend and a black proboscis broke off its attack in favor of darting to its left. Shadows fell, thick, menacing and somehow alive, but no more tentacles followed. Sarn squinted at where they had gone. Was that an entrance to a cavern?
“It’s letting us go?”
Why would it when it was winning? Unless its attention had turned elsewhere, like on the screams and crashes echoing from behind and to their right. Sarn stumbled as weakness bowled him over. He triggered his map, but it fell in sparkling pieces swept up by the black mist nipping at his heels. It was siphoning what magic he had left.
Curse Breaker: Books 1-4 Page 72