There was something strange about the Guard digging his hands into the magic. Familiarity sparked a disjointed memory of a shadow falling across iron bars, a bucket of vomit and lines of agony crisscrossing his back. Then it was gone, leaving Sarn even more bewildered than before.
Do I know him? Indeed, there was something familiar about that Guard. What is that Guard feeling around for? Did he drop something? Or could he feel the magic surrounding Sarn.
Magic is a sliding scale, Bear had said. Where did this Guard fall on that scale?
A flick of the Guard’s wrist answered that question. He twisted the magic into a lariat and tossed it before Sarn could dodge. A fiery loop dropped over his head and dragged Sarn down toward the sharp shadows rising around the man in Guardsman blue. But they were just inanimate shadows. The black mist was gone and so were the things that had swum in it, hopefully for good.
“How did you do that?” Sarn asked.
“Who are you?” The Guard tightened the noose.
Sarn shook his head. “I thought I knew, but now I don’t know.”
It hurt to admit that, but the truth refused to be denied, watered down or sugar-coated. Bear’s revelation hours’ earlier that everything had an opposite repeated, and so did the question it raised.
What am I the opposite of?
Not the Guard who’d caught him. A quick scan proved that beyond the shadow of a doubt. The constricting lariat didn’t balance this magical equation. On the contrary, Sarn’s magic massed around him, encasing him in light. Sarn gripped the lariat, but before he could wrench it out of the Guard’s hands, that damned question repeated.
What am I the opposite of?
He’d never had a chance to ask Bear during their harrowing escape and afterward, the stuffed annoyance had gone mute again. The question hung over Sarn’s head like an ax ready to fall. And on its heels, an even more disturbing question waited—what will happen when I meet my opposite?
Because that confrontation was coming. Sarn felt it as keenly as the tie binding him to his son. This Guard wasn’t his opposite, but he wasn’t a mage either. He lived in that gray area between normal and magical—a class of people I didn’t know existed before today.
“What are you?” Sarn started to ask, but Ran yanked on the tie between them with all his might.
“Papa!” Ran packed all the desperation a four-year-old could muster into the shout echoing in Sarn’s soul.
Something must be wrong. But he’d left his son in their cave under the Queen of All Trees’ protection. Ran should be safe there. Then why is he calling me?
Ran tugged harder on the tie between them and a shimmering chain appeared. Promises to his son had forged each link. They were unbreakable, like his will. I must go.
As Sarn thought that, a green flash severed the lariat, freeing him. His magic changed to a pale green cloud, riding the dispersing crowd until something lashed out and grabbed hold of him. This current was stronger than the one before. It sucked him down a black funnel away from everything including his son.
“Papa, come back! I don’t want to lose you.”
I don’t want to be lost, son. His magic screamed, and Ran’s shouts became more frantic as the blackness closed in on Sarn.
I See You, Boy
“Go back to your homes,” Nulthir shouted. He held his hands palm out to stop the crowd building in front of him. A sea of heads filled the tunnel and stretched on for a half mile to a bend and likely beyond that point as well.
Every man, woman, and child in the Lower Quarters was on the move for no goddamned reason. The Litherians had built their mountain-fortress-turned city tough enough to withstand a frigging earthquake. Yet each time one shook the bowels of the mountain, its denizens fled in fear.
You’d think they’d be used to this by now. Nulthir glared at the crowd, letting them know he meant business.
Why the hell were there so many quakes? There’d been a whole slew of them a month ago, then a couple more two weeks ago and now more today. What in the name of the magic were those miners doing—tunneling to hell and back?
Probably. The rich bastards who ran Mount Eredren had little regard for anything except profit and the purity of their bloodlines. Most of the foremen in the mines were good people, but a few would go to any lengths to make their quota. If they didn’t break the law, Nulthir couldn’t do anything about it. Sweat trickled down his back.
The sunlight shafting through the hole behind Nulthir threatened to cook him in his uniform. It was a golden laser burning through his clothes, and it was only June. Shayari was in for a scorcher this summer, or so claimed the Augurs.
Something brushed his senses. It sparkled at the edges of his sight, and Nulthir squinted at it until a wave of emerald light broke over him. There was someone surfing it and instinct made him reach for that scintillating energy.
Power crackled around Nulthir and he inhaled, sucking that glorious magic down into his core. God, it had been so long since he’d found a power source. On his skin, runes warmed as magic ignited them. Nulthir twisted the power connecting him to the unknown mage. On his knees before him materialized a young man with burning emerald eyes. Something dark—a cloak maybe—swirled around him obscuring his face. But those eyes, they stared at him in shock.
“Who are you?”
“I thought I knew, but—” the boy shook his head then vanished into a flash of emerald light.
Hadn’t the Seekers killed all mages centuries ago? That was the lore, but they’d obviously missed one. Staggered by the implication, Nulthir leaned against the nearest rock formation until his balance steadied.
How could there be a mage alive today? That one question beat in his brain as six pairs of eyes turned in his direction, and something pulled on the magic he'd taken.
Oh no, you don't. That power is mine. Nulthir traced a quick rune on his mail shirt—the first one he'd learned, sealing in that boy’s power. To the men watching him, it looked like he'd sketched the sign of that new triune God those market square preachers were all afire for.
Sunlight glinted off the crosses a few of his fellow Guards wore reminding Nulthir he needed to check out this new God’s teachings sooner rather than later. If that new God respected the balance and had a place for magic users in his ranks, then He might be alright.
Guards held spears at the ready and more of his people waited beyond the sunlight baking Nulthir’s back. He shook himself and stared at the emptying tunnel. Only a few Indentured men and women remained, but they too were drifting away as if called.
Had the crowd felt that boy’s magic? Or the tug of whatever had just tried to leech his newly acquired power? Was that mage Indentured too?
He must be. Where else could such a gifted young man hide? No one ever gave the Indentured a second glance. They were nonentities scurrying beneath their betters’ notice like the rats infesting this place.
“Well that was weird,” Agalthar commented as he doffed his barbute and held it in the crook of his arm.
“What was?” Nulthir asked. What had his Guards seen? Did they suspect he was magic-touched? A shiver shot through Nulthir.
“They just turned and fled like rats to their burrows. You didn’t even have to threaten them. I feel cheated.” Agalthar scratched his scalp through his sweat-dampened hair.
“That was odd. Tell the rest of the men to stand down. Set up a watch, and barricade that hole.” Nulthir gestured to the three-foot-wide aperture pouring sunlight on their helmed heads.
“Won’t do any good. They’ll just tear it down.”
“Not this time.”
Nulthir cracked his knuckles feeling the power coiled there, waiting for release. The rock wall beside him called to the magic he’d siphoned from that kid. The boy had earth magic—fan-fricking-tastic. Earth magic was the most useful kind, especially in a mountain stronghold. Nulthir shook his head at his good fortune.
I must find that boy.
‘That boy’—the thought tri
ggered a vague memory of a youth with a bloody ruin for a back sprawled in a dank cell reeking of piss and vomit. Then the image drained into a black pool which contracted into a mote in Jerlo’s impenetrable black eyes.
Whoa, why did I just imagine the commander of the Rangers?
“Captain? Are you, all right?” Agalthar shook Nulthir’s shoulder then lowered his voice so the guards hauling rocks to block the hole wouldn’t hear. “Maybe you’d better take a rest. You’ve been driving yourself into the ground since that jailbreak two weeks ago. I can manage things here. I doubt they’ll give us any further trouble.”
“I’m all right but thank you for the offer.” Nulthir clapped his friend on the shoulder. “I want to be here in case there’s more trouble afoot.” Or a certain green-eyed youth passes this way. I’ll find you, boy. Though just what he’d do with a mage, Nulthir had no idea.
Ran bit his lip and hugged Bear—the stuffed version. Its spiritual counterpart had remained silent since they’d returned from the Queen of All Trees’ magical glade.
Papa had gone so still he scarce breathed. Was he okay?
Sometimes Papa had strange fits. Papa wasn’t shaking—yet, but the ground was. Every vibration made Ran look up to make sure the ceiling wasn’t caving in. So far there were no cracks. Please don't form any. I'm too little to carry Papa.
Mount Eredren listened to Papa. Maybe it would listen to him too. Ran hugged Bear as the ground shook again. Come back Papa, I'm scared.
And Papa’s eyes weren’t right. In each iris, twin wheels of flame turned—one inside the other. But the left iris was spinning widdershins and the right, sunward. They both usually spun in the same direction, sunward.
Standing on tiptoe, Ran peered into those eyes he knew so well, but Papa wasn’t in there. He’d gone off with the magic and left his body and Ran behind.
“Papa?” Ran pushed against his shoulder, but Papa was a wall of lean muscle, so he didn’t budge. His back was rail straight, but his face was an expressionless mask.
Fear crawled into Ran’s belly and clenched his guts. He wriggled until he could touch Papa’s face. It was warm and sweat beaded his father’s brow.
“Ow!” Ran retracted his smarting fingers after they strayed too close to the green light pumping out of Papa’s eyes. He sucked on his injured digits. Why was the light so hot? Was it hurting Papa?
“Bear? Should I wake Papa? Bear?”
No response. Bear had just been with them. The ghost had made a grand entrance full of twinkling lights just a few minutes ago. Why now was the ghost so quiet?
Ran shook his stuffed companion. “Bear? Why won’t you talk to me?”
Bear’s button eyes stayed dark and devoid of intelligence. Where was Bear? Why wasn’t the ghost here? Ran poked Bear’s fuzzy belly. Still no reaction.
A fat tear rolled down his cheek. Why did everyone leave him?
“Papa, come back,” Ran begged, but his words ended on a sob.
A rat poked its whiskered nose out of a pile of clothes and as it sniffed the air, silver rolled across its eyes. Rat Woman had mirrored eyes. This rat must be one of hers. He listened for the drone of insects heralding Insect Man’s arrival but didn't hear any.
Maybe Rat Woman's here alone. That’s ok. She's a grown-up. She'll know how to help Papa. Ran relaxed and waited. He wasn't alone anymore.
“I'm glad you're here. Can you tell if Papa’s okay?”
When Rat Woman didn't manifest, Ran beckoned the rat to come closer. It couldn’t examine Papa from the other side of the cave. But the rat didn't move. It remained mostly hidden under a pile of dirty tunics, watching his every move.
“Oh, I get it. You aren’t all here ‘cause the magic’s messed up.”
The rat bobbed its head. Its mouth opened and closed, aping human speech, but only squeaks issued.
A knock sounded. Ran cringed as a voice accompanied it.
“Sarn? Sarn, are you in there? Sarn?” Moirraina asked.
She was one of the Foundlings. If they opened that door and saw him kneeling beside his unresponsive Papa, they’d take him away. They were always doing that, and it was annoying. They said it was for his own good, but they were wrong. I should always be with Papa. Always.
“Sarn?”
The knocking grew louder and more insistent. The planks Papa had cobbled together into a crude door shook from the force of her knocking. Moirraina jiggled the handle. It was unlocked, of course, since Uncle Miren was due back from school soon. Too bad he wasn’t here now.
Ran looked to Rat Woman’s emissary for help, but it’d darted into a hole in the wall. He was left alone to deal with the knockers.
If that door opens, I’ll pretend I'm sleeping. Maybe then they’ll leave me alone. Ran laid down next to Papa and chewed on Bear’s ear.
“Papa? Papa, please wake up,” Ran whispered. “I want to stay with you.”
The door creaked. Ran squeezed his eyes tight shut and curled in close. Papa sat cross-legged, so he laid his head on Papa’s knee, and a hand cupped the back of his head. Likely it was a reflex action, but Ran opened his eyes and searched the intense light gathering around him for signs of his returning Papa. His shoulders slumped. Papa wasn’t back, and the knocking was growing more insistent.
I want to stay with you, Papa. Don’t let them take me away. Because if they did, no one would make sure Papa woke up.
I don’t want to lose you. Tears stood out in Ran’s eyes.
One day he would lose Papa because something was wrong with him. Not even Ghost Bear, whose vessel he crushed against his chest, would help Papa. Maybe the Queen Tree would, but she’d gone away like everyone else. It was up to him now.
“Papa, come back to me. I need you!” And he didn’t believe that black stuff wasn’t still out there, waiting to gobble up Papa if he strayed too far from home. “Papa, come back!”
The Adversary brushed past the Guards in their smart blue uniforms, squinting in the sun glaring off their pointy helms. They stood in a ragged line blocking one of the few exits from the subterranean Lower Quarters. He scanned the restive crowd, but they were ordinary folk—dirty, disheveled and more than a bit frightened by the Ægeldar’s tentacular appearance earlier.
“Let us out!” the crowd shouted.
As one Guard stepped forward to deliver a speech, some of his mates started stacking rocks to block up the hole. The next earthquake would just knock it down again, but mankind thrived on fruitless toil.
There it was again that double stop arpeggio in the tenor range, but it faded as a quiet descant soared over it. The Adversary cocked his head and listened. That soprano voice sang a concealment spell—as if such a paltry weaving could blind his eyes. There wasn’t a mage alive who could cheat his sight.
Light blinded the Adversary, and the head Guard made a tossing gesture. He held fast to something, but the Adversary could see neither the rope nor what it had caught. But it had caught something, or someone judging by how hard the Guard pulled.
The Adversary snapped his bony fingers in a contrapuntal rebuttal, but the concealment spell held. Who had enough power to cast a spell that powerful? Only one entity sprang to mind—the Queen of All Trees. Who or what are you hiding, Queenie?
Whatever she’d shielded was right there but invisible until the priestess uncovered her chunk of black lumir crystal. Come on girl, I gave you a magic-stealing rock, use it!
Finally, she did. Ripples spread out from Aralore as the black hole in her keeping warped the fabric of magic into a funnel sucking all magic and light into itself. Good girl. The Adversary could picture her maniacal grin and hear her laughter. He shared it as the stone in her keeping created riptides in the magic even here miles away from the epicenter of her mobile magic-nullifying disaster. They passed through the Adversary like so much bad air because he was just a spirit walking through this plane until a hapless mortal invited him in.
But it ensnared the thing the Queen of All Trees was hiding. For a moment, a man
-shaped glow appeared, and with him, a faint double-stop melody signifying a mage with two gifts. Then he or she vanished as the riptide dragged him, her or it toward the black lumir crystal.
Well, well, well, the double-souled walks again. I should have known. Nothing else on this plane merited such safeguards. Since the tide was carrying this prize to where he’d originally headed, the Adversary floated out of the mountain. What luck. He should arrive just in time to snatch two prizes for the price of one from the Queen of All Trees. Which would she give up—Dirk or this new mage?
Checkmate, my dear.
Sarn clawed at the black current dragging him, but his fingers plunged right through it. Symbols appeared on his hands. Row upon row of them crammed themselves in until they covered his skin in luminous chains. They glowed a soft white, but bits of their light spiraled into the current dragging him through the Lower Quarters. How do I get out of this?
Neem’eye eriskeen, shouted the green magic racing around inside him—not the answer he’d expected.
What does that even mean? Sarn pulled his hand out of the flow and those symbols winked out. He flexed his long fingers. They looked the same as always despite what he’d seen. This substance must not have leached anything he was using.
I must be caught in a magical riptide. I didn’t know there were such things. Struggling only increased its hold. How do you fight a force of nature?
“Bear! Help me!”
Sarn kept calling that spirit animal, but the ghost didn’t reply. Maybe Bear couldn’t hear him. After all, he wasn’t corporeal in this state, so he passed through walls as if they were naught but smoke. Nothing he did stopped or slowed his slide toward another well of darkness. At least this one wasn't in the Ægeldar.
Another wall turned into a puff of smoke as the tide yanked Sarn through it. Every part of him tingled from the prolonged bout of incorporeality. Hopefully, it wouldn’t do any lasting damage.
Curse Breaker: Books 1-4 Page 82