Don’t call her, Bear shouted.
But it was too late. She was coming. There was no foe she couldn't defeat.
The Adversary regarded the kneeling girl. Her eyes were as blank as unstruck coins. She resembled Shayari’s first Queen, but that broad was long dead and buried. Besides, if that woman was still kicking around, she would be doing more than kneeling in a pool of blood while her light-force bled out of her. No, she wasn’t the Queen of Shayari, just a construct that favored her. Who knew the Queen of All Trees was into that kind of thing.
A tentacle shoved her, but she didn’t budge. She just kept making that awful keening sound. Perhaps she wasn’t capable of much more without her creator around.
The Adversary shrugged. “She’s all yours,” he said to the Ægeldar.
Its tentacles were hovering nearby uncertain what to make of her. Prey moved, but she was still. Even in its half-awake state, the Ægeldar had its eye on the prize—the souls tethered to her. It abandoned her and attacked those threads. It just needed to break one, and her spell would unravel, freeing the slain for the Ægeldar to consume.
Of course, that would take a while—long enough to carry out a few errands and return in time to snatch those souls away from the Ægeldar.
The Adversary jumped down to a precipice and whisked aside the shadow hiding his prize. He slung the man known as ‘Gore’ over his shoulder and chuckled at the hapless mortal’s nickname. It was rather apt for the grisly scene topside.
Before he could jump, he sensed a disturbance in the magic. The Queen of All Trees was coming to claim her construct. Was that girl her human avatar? Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
The Adversary looked up at the rim with speculation. Perhaps his prize could wait a moment. After all, Gore was already bought and paid for. But the frequency of the disturbance intrigued him. He hadn’t heard that timbre in a long time. Perhaps someone other than the Queen of All Trees was out there mucking about in things. He ought to check it out, since he had time.
He laid Gore down and threw a shadow over him before shooting out of the pit.
I Believe in You
Her power washed over Sarn like sunshine after too many cloudy days, and his hungry soul drank in her perfect light. And his clothes, still covered in that strange dust, reflected her radiance back at her.
Inside Sarn, a white snake of power uncoiled and slithered down his arms. It pooled in his hands, limning them and increasing the light reflecting off his altered clothes. The Queen of All Trees grew stronger in the reflected glow, becoming more and more corporeal—and smaller. But she still didn't fit inside the cavern. Its forty-foot ceiling was nothing to a thousand-foot tall tree.
Tentacles swiped at her, but she was far from defenseless. Her roots lashed out and wrestled with her foe while she scaled down her awesome presence. There was nothing she couldn’t do.
You stupid, stupid boy, you played right into the enemy’s hands. He wanted you to call her.
“Why?” Sarn’s eyes flew open and he fixed them on Bear. “So, she can defeat him? She’s invincible.”
“It’s the Queen Tree!” Ran shouted in delight. He peered at the opposing shore from behind Sarn.
Sensing a change in the situation, more tentacles broke through the wall and struck at her increasing radiance. Her light flared then reduced to a less blinding level when her crown brushed the ceiling instead of extending through it. Her razor-tipped branches slashed through the tentacles reaching for her. But they divided as they thrashed about spilling ichor, doubling the number of tentacles stabbing her.
No, you fool, he wants to destroy her. There’s something older and fouler than that tentacular horror through yonder hole. Bear gestured to the half-collapsed wall behind them, in the direction of the Ægeldar. Yes, something that can harm even her. Or did you forget that something stole your magic? It wasn’t yonder beast. Bear glared at Sarn and the spell rendering them all incorporeal broke.
“I forgot about that.” Sarn let go of the woman’s hand and sat down, nearly missing his son.
Thank Fate, Ran scrambled aside then landed in his lap as soon as his rump hit the ground. He wrapped his arms around his son, needing tactile proof the boy was okay. Silver light shined on his son’s wavy hair. Sarn cupped it and traced its source back to his eyes. Because even drained of one of his two magical gifts, he still couldn’t pass for human. He sighed and kept his gaze fixed on the fight ashore.
“Then what stole part of my magic?”
I don’t know, Bear snapped. But she’s even more magical than you are. If it could knock you for a loop, imagine what it could do to her. Bear pointed at the Queen of All Trees.
She slashed the incoming tentacles into fluttering black ribbons and kept slicing as they divided until there was nothing left to spawn but puddles of ichor and dust. Then she obliterated even that with a blast of pure light.
Each slice cost her, and her lightning-fast strikes slowed as that black mist lapped at her roots, dulling her shine. As her bark tarnished, her light dimmed, and her reflexes slowed. More tentacles and razor-tipped things pushed through the gap. She cut them down, but each cut took more out of her and she began to shrink.
“No!” Sarn shouted. She must not lose. I must help my Queen. There must be a way—
Yes, said the white magic. Help her.
It was massing in his hands, lighting them up. And he saw it then. There were circles inlaid in the lake bed radiating out from where he sat, and the Queen of All Trees was standing on them, waiting for him to make that connection, to give her what power he had left. Shayari needed her. It didn't need a screwed-up freak who barely understood his magic.
Help her, urged his magic.
Sarn was already reaching for those circles. But Bear yanked him back.
Don't even think about it. You could burn yourself out. Bear hauled Sarn up until they were eye to eye.
Ran yelped at the sudden elevation change but clung on, determined not to be separated again, no matter what.
“But I must do something. She needs help.” Sarn worked his boot off while he dangled there, held aloft by a ghost.
Even Bear couldn't argue with him. She did need help. The Queen of All Trees was sagging, her defenses falling. The tentacles struck faster than she could dodge. Light bled from scores of wounds marring her once perfect bark, dimming her numinous beauty.
No, she can't fall. She never has, not in any age, Bear said as the Queen of All Trees stumbled. Bear lowered Sarn.
“I can help her. I know I can.”
What can you do against such reckless hate?
“Believe in all that's good. Believe in her.”
Sarn peeled his son off him and thrust the struggling boy into a surprised Bear's paws. Then he pivoted and slammed his bare foot onto one of those submerged circles. He had nothing left but belief, and maybe that's all he’d ever needed.
“Shayari needs her heroes. I need a hero to believe in too. And I believe in you,” he said to his Queen.
At his words, white magic exploded from his core and ignited those circles. They were made of unkindled lumir and they woke at his touch. His belief slammed into her, magnified by those circles. It returned the power she’d used to heal him last month and the belief she'd placed in him then.
The Queen of All Trees glowed sun-bright, and her light burned away the remaining tentacles. Their ashes piled up on shore. But that black mist eddied around them stripping any remaining magic as the glow of those circles died out. It would harm her too if she left the lake.
Rocks rose and slammed into place, walling up the hole, but that peculiar, light-stealing mist kept pouring in. Where did it originate?
Sarn collapsed still grappling with that question. He felt hollowed out like a carved pumpkin, but he had enough presence of mind to retrieve his boot. What little protection it offered was better than nothing, so he donned it.
Bear lifted him out of the water, and Ran flung himself into Sarn’s shaking
arms in search of reassurance.
That was brave and stupid. What part of ‘you can only take so much abuse’ was unclear? Bear shook his head, but there was respect lurking in his eyes. Everyone has a limit. Let’s not find yours, okay? I don’t want to scrape you off the ground again.
The word ‘abuse’ brought his former tormentor’s name to mind—Hadrovel—and Sarn flinched. Thank Fate, that psycho was five years’ dead. His son was safe from that madman. Sarn hugged Ran as the Queen of All Trees approached. But his darling boy only had eyes for her.
“It’s the Queen Tree!” Ran clapped, delighted by her presence. All thoughts of the scares he’d had today fled his mind as her radiance fell on his smiling face.
Sarn hid a grin at his son’s antics but he kept hold of the squirming boy. Their safety wasn’t certain yet. Whatever had stolen his magic was still out there, and it wasn’t finished with them yet.
Roused by Ran’s shouts of ‘the Queen Tree,’ children threaded through the staring adults and splashed into the lake to get a better look. But they drew back at the sheer size of her. Despite being compacted into a forty-foot tree, the Queen of All Trees was still massive. Her presence filled the cavern and likely the levels above as well.
She gestured with one of her smaller, less lethal branches and the crystal shards embedded in the back of Sarn’s neck wriggled free. They struck the pink lumir stone at the heart of the island, and its glow intensified as the cracks healed.
When its luminance backed down, the pink crystal was whole again and more brilliant than before. It was her gift to the people who dwelled here. Nothing could compensate them for the fear and loss they’d suffered, but the healed crystal was a start and so were the wholesome vibes it sent out. Everyone visibly relaxed, even the Queen of All Trees.
“The Queen hears, the cry of the poor. Blessed be our Queen,” sang a soprano and her voice echoed in the silence. “When monsters strike, she is there. Her light banishes the dark. To those imperiled, she is near. The Queen of All Trees saves the poor. Blessed be our Queen.”
When the haunting song ended, the Queen of All Trees tilted her crown first to the unknown singer then to Sarn. Startled by her acknowledgment, Sarn bowed his head and stared.
His whole body was glowing—fan-fricking-tastic. Before he could do more than blink at this troubling alteration from the norm, white light streamed out of him, catching the silver motes of the Dryskellions in its flow. But not all of them. A bit of their essence remained lodged in his heart, held fast by the white magic curled around that organ.
“A gift twice given is thrice treasured in times of need,” whispered one of the Dryskellions.
Their combined power streaked toward the Queen of All Trees and spun around her, closing her wounds, and returning her silver bark to its usual luster before the light show ended. But the scars remained as proof she wasn’t invincible. They marred her bark.
Sarn touched the scar marring his face until Ran pulled his hand away. She was like him now, marked by the trials she'd survived. And that was strangely comforting.
The Queen of All Trees tipped her crown to Sarn again, this time in thanksgiving and a bubble of warmth burst in his chest.
Somehow, he'd won her respect. It filled Sarn with a feeling of well-being that buoyed him up against the weakness sapping his strength. I did something right for a change. Too bad neither Nolo nor Jerlo is here to see it.
Bear nodded as if everything made sense now. Ah, well that explains why you're not passed out, Bear said finally.
“Because of the Dryskellions?”
Yes, they gave you their grace, so you could give it to her, and that grace protected you. I thought they were too easily defeated. Now I know why. What canny fools. Bear shook his head at their sacrifice.
“What’ll happen to them now?”
She'll take them to their eternal reward, of course. They've more than earned it. She is a psychopomp after all. It’s her job to ferry the dead. Bear gestured to the hazy outlines of the twelve Dryskellions.
They ringed the Queen of All Trees, drew their blades and laid them before her. As each one knelt, they faded into a constellation of stars. For a heartbeat during their transition, they were dragonish-shaped windows into a far green country.
“May you find rest and peace there,” Sarn said without realizing it, and the remaining Dryskellions accepted his well-wishes with very human grins.
I know they will. Bear rested a dinner-plate sized paw on Sarn’s shoulder and squeezed.
“Can we go there too?” Ran asked.
“Someday, we all will.” Sarn rested his chin on his son's head and vowed to corner Nolo later to ask about all this.
As the Black Ranger and the Chooser of the Dead, Nolo had a special relationship with the other side. He was also a man of deep faith. Perhaps his other master would talk about it. Though Sarn had no idea how to even broach that subject. But twentieth bell was still hours away from ringing. Maybe he'd come up with a plausible angle by then.
While the Dryskellions left this plane, that ominous black mist grew denser sending its black waves to lap at the lake. Like oil, it floated on the water and closed in on the Queen of All Trees. It would swamp her and suck her magic dry if she remained.
Magic-stealer said a weak voice in Sarn’s head, and the green magic’s cryptic comment made him giddy with relief. There was still a spark of the power he knew best.
Her light dimmed as the Queen of All Trees sent the last Dryskellion across. Oh, Fates no, she was surrounded, and the mist was raising an impenetrable wall of darkness to expunge her light.
Before Sarn could warn her, an agonized scream tore through the cavern. The Queen of All Trees jerked in surprise. She spread her branches, and the world went white.
Oh, How They Glitter
Gore woke from dreams of silver trees and shining women to darkness. The longer he lay there peering into the gloom the less real the leaping woman seemed. Something snaked out of the wall overhead, and coins spilled out of the hole. Oh, how they glittered as they tumbled toward Gore’s grasping hands.
But the coins slid through his fingers and vanished when they struck the ground. No, no, no! Gore scoured the barren rock ledge for them, ignoring the sting in his neck, wrists, and calves. Needles bit into his flesh, sucking at his—blood? What the hell was going on?
Shadows wrapped loving arms around him, cradling Gore as he slid to the ground. But unlike those coins, they didn’t vanish. Neither did he. Something dark and alive was feeding on him. And there, rolling toward the edge, was another coin. Gore scrabbled after it, pawing at the loose rocks. But the coin remained just out of reach. Give me my money!
Gore bucked against the arms holding him hostage. More seemed to sprout from the floor to restrain him.
“You’re just like Dirk. There’s always one more con, one more delay but never that payday!”
“Would you release me for one last ‘payday?’”
His captor stilled, waiting for a response and those needle-thin proboscises stop their hideous slurping.
Gore froze. His body throbbed from the abuse. Coins rose out of the dark. They rolled over the edge in a tantalizing cascade, coming ever closer to his grasping hands. But they slowed, stopping a scant inch out of reach.
No! Gore howled. The greedy part of him he’d always kept in check was in control now, and it wanted all the money Dirk and his cronies owed him.
“Give me those coins, and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
And what is it that I want to know, hissed a sibilant voice in Gore's head.
Was there a deal still to be made, one last con to pull? Gore’s palms itched signaling the game was on. It was all making sense now. This was all that creepy Sarn’s fault. That’s what this thing wanted. And why shouldn’t he hand that freak over?
Since they’d crossed paths with Sarn last month, his friends had fallen apart. Everything was about money now—how much could they borrow? But they never
repaid.
Ragnes had taken so ill, he’d nearly died. And the wretch still might. He'd looked like a shadow darkening Death’s door earlier.
If only Villar had killed that Freak. But he hadn’t because a pint-sized brat had popped him one right between the eyes. Now the big lug couldn’t close his eyes without seeing the slingshot toting mini-freak with iridescent green eyes. How in God’s name could that boy be sweet Beku’s get? It still beggared belief.
Cris had become more secretive since that incident and belligerent too. Every word out of his mouth was a challenge like they were boys testing their manhood again. Gone was the smiling, stalwart friend he’d lay down his life to save. In its place was a frenemy and that too was Sarn’s fault. How could one meeting destroy their camaraderie so completely?
And Dirk—Gore’s hands convulsed at the thought of the man whose scheme had brought him here to this dark canyon and those coins sparkling out of reach.
What do I want to know, asked that voice in his head again.
A coin rolled a little closer, teasing Gore.
“What they all want to know.”
But those beautiful coins were sliding, cold and metallic across his skin. Into his pockets they dropped, stretching the fabric until it tore and still more coins fell in a hail of gold.
Yes, all the money his friends owed him was pouring over Gore, burying him in heaven’s recompense for the shit and misery of life. But they vanished when they touched his greedy hands. Why was wealth always so fleeting?
Diamonds, so perfect and clear, sparkled in the bluff. Gore dug his fingers into that unyielding surface. They’re mine, my own, my sparklies. But no matter how hard he punched, kicked and cursed the rock imprisoning those gems, they refused to budge.
A new voice elbowed its way into Gore’s mind. Stop this foolishness. They’re a mirage. There are no diamonds down here. Stop listening to the Ægeldar's mutterings. Listen to me if you want to see your friends again.
Curse Breaker: Books 1-4 Page 75