When the light finally died back to a less blinding level, Villar backpedaled in alarm. The Queen of All Trees was shrinking and shedding luminous silver motes like a snake molting its skin. Each section that sloughed off reduced her awesome size, giving her room to grapple with the tentacles speeding toward her.
The Queen of All Trees charged and slashed them to ribbons. The stumps split hydra-style, multiplying each time she cut them down. But the Queen of All Trees just kept hacking, slashing and tearing.
“Yes!”
It was evisceration time. Villar punched the sky in triumph. He cheered her on until his gaze snagged on the author of all his recent miseries.
“You!”
Villar charged the freaky young man with burning eyes, and they went down into the choking mist.
“Leave Papa alone!” shouted the brat pounding away with his little fists.
It felt like rain pattering on his back and the insanity of it made Villar laugh. Who’s the bully now, a sarcastic voice asked inside his head as the laughter took on a hysterical edge.
“This is all your fault.” Villar tightened his grip around the freak’s throat. How had a chance meeting led to a devil's bargain and all this death? Only Dirk knew, but it had.
“Leave Papa alone!”
Ran pounded his little fists into the Bad Man. It was up to him now to save Papa. Or was it? Where was Bear? Why wasn't he helping?
“Bear! Bear help us!”
The Bad Man was winning. Papa’s eyes had gone all silvery like the Queen Tree, and they were rolling up in his head. Papa must be hurt bad. Fear clenched Ran’s heart and he switched to hair pulling since his punches weren’t doing any good. Papa’s attacker was well padded against little fists, and he needed his legs to hold tight to the Bad Man’s bucking back.
“Bear!”
No answer still. Ran bit his lip to keep from crying. But the tears were pooling like liquid fire behind his eyes. He blinked them away and swallowed the sob ripping up his windpipe.
Silver roots snaked past him as the Queen Tree darted in to deliver another precision strike to the tentacles reaching out of the pit. Ran shuddered at the sight of them. If she was handling the monster, then she couldn’t help him or Papa. Ran was on his own, and the thought scared him. He was too little for such an important mission.
“Bear! Bear, where are you?”
Hold on lad, Bear’s coming. I just need to negotiate a spot of trouble.
“What trouble?” Ran looked around, but a black wave rolled over him.
When it receded, he coughed until he’d cleared its coldness from his lungs. Panic squeezed Ran, shortening his breaths. He couldn’t see Papa anymore. Papa was still under that awful mist, and it was pawing at Ran. But he couldn't free a hand to slap it away.
“Hurry, Bear!”
What do you think I’m doing—knitting a sweater? Just hang on. I’ll be right there. This mist is giving me trouble.
“Oh,” was all Ran had time to say before a paw lifted him by the scruff of his neck and set him down.
I need room to work. Stay there for a moment and dodge anything that tries to stab you, okay?
“What about Papa?”
Bear ignored his question in favor of seizing the Bad Man’s wrist.
“Wh-what are you?” asked the Bad Man.
A really angry ghost of a bear and you’re hurting my human. He deserves better than this. Bear tossed the bad man aside, and the mist swallowed him—good riddance.
“Papa!” Tears coursed down Ran’s face as he patted the mist seeking his father. Finding him, Ran sought those telltale signs of life that always reassured him. But before he could press his ear against Papa’s chest, Papa started shaking.
You’d better stand back. Bear lifted Ran and set him down a few feet away.
Turning, Ran sought the man who’d hurt Papa. The mist parted, revealing his face. Ran fell back a step in shock. It was the man he’d shot with his slingshot last month to save Papa.
Ran fingered his pockets and relaxed as two metal balls clicked against his trusty slingshot. “Why’d you hurt Papa? Papa never hurts anyone.”
The Bad Man looked away, but he didn’t answer. Ran opened his mouth to add another ‘why’ to his demand, but Bear cut him off.
Because he’s a bad man, and that’s what bad men do, they hurt people.
The Bad Man flinched. He’d heard Bear too. Good.
Come on, lad, it’s time to go.
“But the Queen Tree—” Ran pointed to the deadly dance she was engaged in with fourteen tentacles.
She can take care of herself. We need to get your Papa somewhere he can recuperate. This place is not good for him or for you. Hell, it’s not good for anyone.
As Bear spoke in Ran’s mind, he gathered up Papa’s still body, cradling him like he was a huge baby. The sight almost made Ran crack a smile. But before he could, Bear crouched in front of him, inviting him to go for a ride.
After wiping his eyes on his sleeve, Ran climbed on the ghost’s back and buried his tear-streaked face in Bear’s spectral fur.
“Is Papa going to die?”
Of course, everyone dies, and the flies are waiting for their prize.
Villar drew his fist back to punch Beku’s pet freak, but his fist stopped mid-air. What the hell?
A translucent paw limned in white light caged his wrist. Villar stared at its owner and his mouth dropped open.
“Wh-what are you?”
A really angry ghost of a bear and you’re hurting my human. He deserves better than this.
The ghost bear tossed him over its shoulder. Villar landed in a shocked heap and rolled onto his side, cursing his ill-luck. The freak was thrashing around in some kind of fit. What in God’s name did Beku see in him?
But he knew. She’d seen someone young, malleable and unique enough to have some kind of monetary value. Beku had liked to take them young, so she could mold them. It was a sick habit made all the sicker because they were all responsible—him, Dirk, Ragnes, Cris, and Gore. They’d all failed her.
“Papa!” shouted the freak’s get. Tears coursed down the kid’s face and the sight melted Villar’s heart a little, softening his regard for the tyke turning to face him. “Why’d you hurt Papa? Papa never hurts anyone.”
The question and the anguish on the child’s innocent face slammed into Villar. Shame made his face flame and he dropped the kid’s intense eyes.
Because he’s a bad man, and that’s what bad men do, they hurt people, the Ghost Bear said. His growly voice echoed inside Villar’s head, and he flinched.
Is that who I am now, a ‘Bad Man?’ Villar glanced away from the tyke and his questioning eyes toward the magnificent sight of his sylvan Queen, and his heart sank because that ghost was right. Somewhere in the past, he’d sold out and become a villain.
As he opened his mouth to apologize, the ghost gathered up the freak and the kid.
“Is Papa going to die?”
If Bear answered, Villar didn’t hear it. One moment, the ghost was glaring him down and the next, it was gone. So too were the freak and his son. They left just in time to avoid being skewered by a tentacle as wide as Villar's waist. It buried its point in the ground then dragged back toward the pit forcing Villar to dodge. He dove out of its path through the mist past floating man-shapes swimming through its gloom. They reached for him with skeletal fingers, and he screamed.
“Ghosts and ghouls and sallow fools—oh, how they cool. Oh, how they cool, ‘neath the land where nulls rule!” said the things groping after Villar.
He choked down a lungful of cold, darkness as he chinned himself up a stalagmite. They held fast to him, climbing his wide body as if it were a stairway to hell. And maybe he was given his actions of late.
What the hell were they? Not ghosts, no, they were solid enough to punch, but neither did his fist impact anything like flesh. These things had waxy skin and sharp teeth.
Oh, God, those ghouls were attacking his
Queen. They were gnawing on her roots. The bark Around each bite cracked and flaked away. But she was too busy grappling with tentacles as wide as her branches to swat them away. The Queen of All Trees screamed in pain and her rage echoed through the cavern.
Oh, no, no, no, they were destroying her! I must do something. What could he do to help?
A ghoul grasped his ankle and jerked Villar down into the mist where a bad man like him belonged. Too bad the tyke wasn’t here to see justice served.
I’m sorry, my Queen, I can’t help you. But he couldn’t help grasping after her graying roots and her perfect light as the ghouls carried him toward the pit and the monster waiting below.
Ran shivered at Bear’s words. He didn’t like the sound of them. “What flies? Why’re they waiting for their prize? What’s the prize?”
Calm down. It’s just a saying. Your Papa’s not dying anytime soon. Bear said as he traversed a creaky wooden bridge. It swayed as he padded across it with his double burden. Do me a favor and don’t look down—
But Ran did look, and his eyes bulged. He stared at gleaming bones. They were piled here and there as if a giant had tired of playing with them.
“Are those—” Ran swallowed the vomit crawling up his throat.
Bones, yes, stop looking at them. Ah, I think your Papa’s coming around. Good, because I'm getting tired of carrying him. Bear alighted from the bridge and found a flat-topped boulder to unsling his burden onto.
Ran climbed up and knelt by his stricken father. He wanted to crawl into Papa’s arms, but Papa looked so pale and drawn. “Is Papa okay?”
He will be if he gets some rest, some food and a recharge. Mages don’t do well when their power drops below a certain level.
“Why?” Ran couldn’t fight the temptation any longer. He laid his head over Papa’s heart and relaxed when he heard its comforting beat. But the magic wasn’t rushing around inside him anymore. Or if it was, it was being very quiet.
Everything must balance. That’s just the way of things. Call it the natural order if you like. And nothing likes a vacuum.
“A vacuum? What’s that?”
It’s what spawned the black mist if your father’s right. I hope for all our sakes he’s wrong.
Bear leaned on a nearby rock as if he were really a giant teddy bear with glowing edges instead of a ghost.
“But you don’t think I’m wrong,” Papa said as he opened his eyes.
Ran sucked in a shocked breath, and his fist closed around a handful of Papa’s stained tunic. Papa’s eyes were all wrong. They were silver like the Queen Tree, but unlike her luminous bark, his eyes didn’t glow. Nor did they focus all that well. Papa squeezed Ran then tried to sit up and ended up knocking them both off the boulder into darkness.
Ran screamed as the mist choked him. It poured down his throat into his belly and tried to spread all through him, but Papa held him tight and a silver glow knifed through the black. Ran reached for that light and his fingers touched a warm crystal—Papa’s pendant. Its light pushed back the darkness, and Papa’s silver eyes reflected its glow, magnifying its effect.
Sarn coughed as darkness pummeled him. It spawned hundreds of greedy hands and they all grasped after his son. But they would not take his boy, his reason for living. Sarn held tight to his son as a light cleaved the darkness and it receded to a spiky black ring around them.
Ran gripped Sarn’s pendant and held it up between them so it could bathe them in its cleansing light. They exchanged an awed glance and Sarn sighed as he saw questions already forming in his son’s eyes. Maybe Ran would wait a few hours before asking them.
Time to go. Rest break’s over. Bear pulled Sarn to his feet, and Ran held tight, so he was swept up too. The smart boy never walked when alternative transportation was available.
“Where can we go?”
Away from here. Let’s go and keep that crystal handy. Yonder black stuff doesn’t like it. Bear bounded down the tunnel dragging Sarn behind him.
“Will it dissipate?”
If it’s what you claim it is, no. Black lumir keeps eating magic until there’s no more. Unfortunately, like all things, when it eats, it grows, or rather expands.
“It expands—?” Sarn repeated in shock. He couldn’t wrap his mind around that. “What about the Queen of All Trees? Will it eat her?”
Bear slowed. His question caught Bear so off guard, the ghost pivoted to face the mouth of the cavern they’d left. A silver flash lit it, and fell laughter echoed.
“We have to go back. She might need us.” Sarn tried to extricate himself from Bear’s grip and failed. He had just enough strength left to clutch his son and stagger forward when Bear took off in the opposite direction.
No, she’ll have to fend for herself. You’re in no shape to do anything except fall on your face. Who knew you were such a brittle mage.
Bear shook his head as the ghost wove around obstacles and the black mist parted before their light. It crept back in once they passed, so the crystal was only a temporary stay of execution, not a true antithesis.
“What’s a ‘brittle mage?’”
Scared of the answer, Ran burrowed into Sarn. He hugged his son tight, needing the reassurance he offered his son.
Relax. It's just a term. It's nothing to fret over. It just means your father is more sensitive to the fluctuations in his power level than other mages. Bear caught Sarn’s eye and spoke directly to him now. The ghost ticked its points off on its claws.
Like right now, you’ve got all the symptoms of low magic—blurry vision—that was my paw you just stepped on—rapid heartbeat, sudden mood changes, pale skin, headache, shaking, dizziness, trouble thinking clearly, loss of consciousness and so on. Bear shot him the look his master often used when he was certain Sarn wasn’t paying attention.
But Sarn was, so he didn't see the rock pile until he tripped over it. Bear was right. He was falling apart. “How do I fix that?”
Rest, recharge and eat something. Oh, and pick a destination. Your dominant magic is earth-based, so we should have plenty of options there. Where's the best place for you to recharge?
“Home—I want to go home.” Ran glared at them until he got his way then he nodded.
Home it is. We’ll just hope this stuff hasn’t reached your door yet.
Why Have You Abandoned Me?
Shadows plucked at Sarn as Bear loped along, dragging him in the ghost’s wake through the clinging mist. They had to keep detouring around deep patches to avoid being consumed by it. But the longer their hurried flight lasted, the weaker Sarn felt. It was still drawing something out of him by slow increments, but it wasn’t the white magic. That picky power was still shut up inside him out of the mist’s reach.
Why wasn't it affected? The mist had stripped his green magic away in the blink of an eye. Why was his less-than-helpful magic immune? Before Sarn could ask Bear that, he tripped over a pile of rubbish and went to his knees in the mist.
There were shapes moving in it. A misshapen face surfaced followed by a shrunken head. A few wisps of gray hair clung to its wizened forehead. Its lipless mouth opened, and a base voice issued. Its rhyme clawed at his sanity.
Ghosts and ghouls and sallow fools—oh, how they cool. Oh, how they cool 'neath the land where the nulls rule!
The evil chant disintegrated into raucous laughter.
Sarn shuddered. “What is that?”
A wraith, damn it. Your hypothesis might be correct. Bear slashed at the wraith, but it sank into the mist before his claws made contact.
“What is a ‘null?’”
The opposite of a mage. Think of magic as a sliding scale with regular people in the middle. Mages and nulls anchor the two ends.
Sarn stared at the wraith. It had just upended his entire worldview. “How do you become a null?”
Save that question for later. Bear righted Sarn then took off, dragging Sarn in its wake again.
“Wait. I need a minute.”
Can't do that or w
e'll never get out of here. Hang on. Bear charged onward determined to tow them to safety.
The tunnel seemed to flex, like the muscles of a living thing, and something was fluttering in the half-light of his pendant. No, not something—a banner. The sound of cloth tearing echoed in the gloom.
What the hell is that? Bear skidded to a halt.
Ran screamed. A dirty lariat wrapped around his arm. And it yanked him toward a billowing mold colony, which had sprouted a sickle smile, of course. Because an animated banner wasn't scary enough on its own. No, it had to develop burning red eyes and a mouth full of serrated teeth.
“Papa!” Ran held tight to him. His little face was pinched with fear and pain.
“I've got you. I won't let it take you.” And Fates damn his magic if it didn't help.
Help me, he beseeched his remaining magical gift, but the white magic just turned its fiery back on him.
All around them, banners were disintegrating into whipping threads. And they were tugging on his son. Sarn tugged back.
“Why won't it help me?” Sarn asked Bear as the ghost sliced through the incoming lariats.
Because it's busy keeping you alive. Unless you want your son to be an orphan, I suggest you let it.
Bear slashed a banner and it went limp as a shadow left it. A wraith surfaced and jerked the cord trapping his son. Sarn hauled back on it, careful not to put pressure on his son's arm. But he was weakening a little more with every tug.
“What do you mean?”
You know what I mean. You've known for a long time but didn't want to admit it. You can't live without magic. Your body doesn't know how to function without it.
Bear punctuated his pronouncement by gouging out the red eyes of another banner. Meanwhile, Ran wriggled. Using the slack Sarn maintained in the lariat, his son extricated his arm, but not before a gang of wraiths jerked the line, sending Sarn and his questions flying.
“I'm free!” Ran shouted a second before they tumbled into the mist.
Curse Breaker: Books 1-4 Page 78