Cursed: Legend of the Grimoire, Book One

by Leah Ross

  Ambrose perched his glasses atop his long nose and cleared his throat. “Mezriel was an ancient prince of a race of ethereal beings called the Or’Acantha, possessed of such divine beauty that no one outside their race could even behold them without succumbing to obsessive madness so complete that they suffered a lifelong compulsion to seek them out again. They were worshipped as gods, and to see one was to have a religious experience.

  “Because of their effect on other races, the Or’Acantha exiled themselves to a remote mountain with powerful enchantments concealing them. However, after several hundred years of exile, they faced extinction at the hands of their much-diluted gene pool. In desperation of survival, the strongest, healthiest Or’Acantha were sent out to find other suitable races with which to diversify and blend.

  “Cloaked by a powerful magical glamour that dampened his effect on other races, Prince Mezriel of the Or’Acantha royal house was one of the many sent out to ensure the survival of his race. He spent years traveling across the planet, with little to show for his efforts and the situation growing increasingly dire at home. Finally, there was nowhere else for him to go, so he made his way back home to spend his people’s dwindling time with them in peace.

  “As he approached the enchanted gate guarding the path to the mountain home of the Or’Acantha, Mezriel saw a young woman sitting in the road, staring at the gate. Mezriel greeted her, and began trying to steer her away, thinking she was one of the many pilgrims devoted to worshipping his race.

  “She introduced herself as Ahnrah, from one of the nearby villages, of a race nearly as magically gifted as his, the Annali. She had always been attracted to this place, she said, and spent much time just sitting and admiring the beauty of the mountain, trying to see past its many magical barriers. She’d never seen him before, though.

  “Mezriel was fascinated by this Annali girl. She was beautiful, and he was enchanted by her curiosity. They sat and talked for hours, learning much about each other, until night began to fall. They parted reluctantly with the promise to see each other again soon.

  “Mezriel and Ahnrah spent every day together after that. Before long, love took hold. Mezriel promised himself to Ahnrah, and she to him. He wanted her to be an Or’Acantha princess, but that meant leaving her previous life behind forever, for once she passed through the gate into his land, she would never be able to leave. Her love for him was endless, and she agreed. Mezriel gave her a coronet created especially for her, forged of flawless uletrium, inlaid with eight orbs of lazacite. It would allow her to see him and all of the Or’Acantha for what they really were without the threat of madness, since once they passed the gate, Mezriel could not cloak himself in glamour for her protection. She accepted his gift gladly, and they walked together through the gate into his land.

  “Mezriel and Ahnrah were happy together, and they had seven gorgeous children, but the Or’Acantha could not escape their fate. Ahnrah passed away in old age, after her children had long since made a place for themselves out in the world, leaving Mezriel as the only surviving full-blood Or’Acantha. He gathered the unimaginable wealth of his race deep in the mountain, and, with the magic of a man wasting away from a broken heart, he sealed it.

  “Ahnrah was buried with her coronet on her head. Many years later, the tomb was raided in a land skirmish and the circlet stolen. Over the centuries, pieces of Ahnrah’s Circlet were bought and sold, scattered across the globe, lost to time and memory. History devolved to legend, legend to myth, until few believed there was any truth to the tale of Mezriel and Ahnrah and the Or’Acantha treasure.

  “There were still those that did believe, though. Every generation saw at least one quest launched in pursuit of what had come to be called Mezriel’s Hoard. Those hardy enough to go after it typically only found one or two pieces of the trail, which were quickly lost again, and sacrificed everything they had in their search. It was widely believed that all of the keys leading to the treasure were cursed, destined to lead one to nothing but ruin and death. Still others believed that the treasure did not actually comprise tangibles like gold and gems, but rather the fulfillment of one’s deepest desires, and they sought it for that purpose.

  “No matter the reason, no matter the belief, one thing about Mezriel’s Hoard was definitely true. It was the ultimate prize of the world. Though few actually pursued it, everyone wanted it, and the fame gained from the knowledge that a particular captain was after it was both instantaneous and supremely dangerous. Ships were attacked on the mere suspicion of possessing a key to the Hoard, and any piece of news regarding any aspect of the treasure was automatically the hottest gossip. Reputations were built and destroyed based solely on a person’s track record in dealing with matters related to such an important legend.

  “Anyone intrepid enough to find the mythical plunder would become legend himself. It was this fact, along with the promise of untold wealth, which drove so many to seek it. Explorers came and went, names were written in history and forgotten, but the myth stubbornly persisted, protecting its tiny grain of truth, and immortality was assured for the pirate who would at last lay claim to the eternal trophy of Mezriel’s Hoard.”

  William sighed. “It’s a lovely story, Ambrose, but even that account says it—generations upon generations have gone in search of this treasure. Guinn’s quest is not unique.”

  “No, but other pieces of this puzzle are.” Ambrose leaned forward, excitement lighting his keen eyes. “Guinn’s artifact? The one for which you sent him to me? It’s genuine.”

  “So what? Others have had keys to the treasure before.”

  “Laria told me of a prophecy she received several years ago…”

  “The gypsy fortune?” William said incredulously. “Ambrose, it may be time for you to retire if you’re putting any stock in that kind of thing.”

  Ambrose’s eyes bored into his with a steely glare. “Do not scoff at things that you don’t understand, boy. The real meat of that prophecy is what is coming to pass. Right now!” He jabbed a finger against the table.

  “What?” William wracked his brain, trying to remember all of the pieces of the prophecy that Laria had told him years ago.

  “She will encounter a great evil and play an integral part in defeating it,” Ambrose supplied.

  Eyes flying wide, William’s breath stuttered sharply as he recalled Laria’s visit to his office asking for Ambrose’s information. She’d wanted his help with something very important that she couldn’t tell Guinn about, something that impacted… “Declan…” he breathed, pieces beginning to come together.

  Ambrose nodded gravely. “I have read some accounts that associate the supposed curse on the keys to Mezriel’s Hoard with an evil entity that is bound to it. What if those accounts are true?”

  “No!” William began to get lightheaded as he hyperventilated. “These are stories! Nothing but legend!”

  “What if that evil currently resides within Declan?”

  “It’s not true!”

  “If Laria knew about it, she would do anything to help him, wouldn’t she?”

  “Ambrose!”

  “If she found the one to aide her who has conviction as strong as her own?”

  William gasped, a young boy’s prescient words ringing in his ears. I take very good care of what belongs to me. He groaned miserably. “Jonathan.”

  “Think about it, William. What do all of these events seem to have in common?”

  “Guinn’s search for the Hoard.”

  Ambrose tapped a finger against his nose. “What if all of this was preordained long ago? What if now is the time for all of the pieces to come together?”

  “Ambrose… Stop…” William held his head between his hands. Then he looked up at his friend. “Why are you telling me all of this? I’m not a piece in this twisted puzzle.”

  Ambrose smiled. “Aren’t you? Perhaps we just don’t have the foresight to see your role yet. I have the distinct feeling that your friends will need you very much.” />
  “Gods, Ambrose. What do I do?”

  “I don’t know, son.” Ambrose squeezed William’s shoulder. “But I’m certain that time will reveal all.”

  ~*~

  “Miss Laria?”

  Laria looked up from her book at Morgan’s voice and frowned, not seeing him. “Jonathan?” She jumped as she felt a soft touch on her arm.

  “I’m here.” His voice was right next to her. “I could really use your help.”

  She laid her book aside, stifling a giggle. “I’ll say! How the devil did you manage to make yourself invisible?”

  “I was practicing the spell, and now I can’t undo it. I’ve tried everything.”

  “Oh, Jonathan! Why didn’t you just come to me first?”

  He was silent for a moment. “I didn’t want to look stupid. Kind of late for that, isn’t it?”

  She smiled and waved her hand through the air. Morgan faded into view, his face red all the way to his hairline. “It’s all right,” she said. “Why don’t we practice a bit together?”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  They spent the next couple of hours exploring the nuance of effective spell casting and practicing the few spells that Laria needed Morgan to use when the time came. Having never used magic before, he was clumsy and not very confident, but after a while, it felt more natural to him. Finally, he was able to render himself invisible and then dispel the magic again without assistance.

  “Very good, Jonathan. You’ll be casting spells like a licensed mage before too long.”

  “Thank you, Miss Laria.”

  “Thank you. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

  Morgan bit his lip nervously. “When do you think it will happen?”

  Laria averted her gaze, worry filling her mind as she thought of Declan and how withdrawn he’d become. She sighed. “I don’t know exactly. But my intuition tells me it will be soon.”

  ~*~

  Mezriel brooded in the claustrophobic silence of his living tomb. He never imagined that the powerful enchantments protecting his ancestral home would prevent him from leaving the corporeal world, and so he was stuck in the eternal prison into which he’d sealed himself, an immortal vestige of his extinct race. Unable to die, unable to live, wishing for the peace he was so cruelly denied, he felt madness festering in his soul, a growing mass of oozing blackness that filled him with hate and violence. He didn’t know when the sorrow and hopelessness within him had become an entity he couldn’t control, but it swelled and writhed restlessly, feeding on his despair.

  At some point, it gained consciousness and Mezriel was certain he’d finally succumbed to his insanity when he began conversing with it. The entity cajoled relentlessly, whispering dark thoughts through his muddled brain, and making Mezriel wish that plunging a dagger though his long-dead heart would end his purgatory, or even make him feel anything.

  It called itself Ashur, and it was Mezriel’s constant, unwelcome companion. Mezriel caught himself muttering obscenities and irrational threats at Ashur, as the entity fueled the prince’s hatred. Broken by the constant onslaught of torment, Mezriel attempted to carve the beast from his being, slicing and hacking deep into his flesh with his blade. But his wounds always healed and Ashur only strengthened, laughing cruelly at the prince’s desperation.

  Finally, in a fit of tremendous rage, a roar erupted from the very depths of Mezriel’s soul, dragging a clinging, diaphanous mass of black tendrils scraping and clawing its way from his throat. A pair of fathomless red eyes glared triumphantly at the prince, then the chamber echoed with evil laughter. Clear-headed for the first time he could remember, Mezriel shouted a spell at the physical manifestation of Ashur, intending to banish the entity to Eirlyndd, the spirit realm, leaving him alone once more in the crushing silence.

  But he hadn’t sent Ashur to the spirit realm. Instead, he’d just unleashed the untold evil upon his world, casting it out from his mountain tomb, yet binding it to the treasure he guarded. Without a path back to Mezriel, Ashur roamed aimlessly, searching for a piece of Or’Acanthan wealth to which to anchor. Finally, the entity discovered a coin long forgotten in a deserted hilltop outcropping. It settled there, unseen, unknown, and bided its time, waiting for when the time was right. Waiting to be found and for the spark of greed that would unlock its devastating control.

  ~*~

  Declan opened his eyes, dread weighing him down. Ashur was quiet for the moment, but Declan could feel the presence sitting expectantly just beneath the surface of his mind. He’d never had that dream before, and he was glad. Now he knew that his situation was much more precarious than he’d thought.

  “So ‘twas pure, stupid luck, then?” Declan spat with disgust. “All these years, I thought ye’d chosen me to torment.”

  A snort of derision sounded in his head. I never would have chosen you.

  “It could have been anyone.”

  Anyone with the stain of greed on their heart. So, yes, anyone.

  Now it was Declan’s turn for smugness. “No wonder ye canna stand me. I’m ‘bout the least greedy soul on the planet.”

  I know. But you have other delightful flaws upon which I can feast. It was Mezriel’s hopelessness and despair that spawned me, after all, and you give that to me in spades.

  “So it’s true?” Declan asked skeptically. “Ye’re no’ jus’ feedin’ me a load o’ bullshit?”

  It’s true. Mezriel created me. I am bound to the Or’Acanthan treasure.

  “Why tell me this? Why give me that dream?”

  I need you to know what you’re up against. You need to take me seriously.

  “Why?! What do ye want?”

  Ashur chuckled. What any soul-sucking evil fiend wants. Power.

  “For what?”

  Oh, I have grand plans, the likes of which your limited mind couldn’t hope to understand. Suffice it to say that I will rule Eirlyndd and rain such beautiful destruction down on your world.

  Declan fought to remain calm, but his panic rose. “I willna allow it!”

  Ashur laughed. You can’t stop me, mortal.

  “I’ll tell others exactly what ye’ve told me!”

  Try it. I dare you. I won’t let you tell anyone my secrets. Ashur hummed with satisfaction as Declan shook with rage and fear. Yes… Delicious… I will use you until you break, and then I’ll find the one who will set me free…

  ~*~

  William knew he was asleep. He didn’t know exactly how he knew, but he did. So it surprised him when Laria entered his dream and wiped it away with her hand, leaving the two of them alone in a hazy white void. He frowned at her. “What are you doing in my dream, and what did you do to it? I was enjoying it.”

  “I’m sorry, Will,” she said. “I needed to speak with you, and this is the only way I could think to reach you right away.”

  He shook his head. “You know, your magic is reaching a very frightening level of complexity, girl.” He took her hand. “What’s wrong?”

  “I need your help.”

  “You have a whole ship full of men at your disposal.”

  “I need your help, Will.”

  “It’s Declan, isn’t it?”

  She bit her lip and nodded.

  He wrapped her in a hug. “What can I do?”

  “He’s fighting this… whatever… that has invaded him, but he’s losing the battle. I need to know what it is so I can help him.”

  William held her out in front of him, frowning at her with deep concern. “Laria, what you’re attempting is very dangerous. Have you thought this through?”

  “It’s the only way! I have to do something! I can’t just stand by and watch him slip away!”

  He sighed. “What do you want me to do?”

  She sniffled and dragged her hand across her nose. “Can you take a look and see if you can get any information about this thing?”

  “I usually need physical contact with someone to probe their mind, sweet.”

  “Use me,” she s
aid without hesitation. “I’m at Declan’s bedside right now.”

  William scowled at her, not liking the situation at all. If something went wrong… “No,” he said with absolute finality. “I won’t put you in the middle. We have no idea how powerful this thing is.”

  “Please, Will! I can shield the pathway.”

  “We don’t know what we’re dealing with here!”

  “Damn it, Will! There are too many variables! The only way I can rid Declan of this thing is to know what kind of being I’m trying to eradicate! I can’t ask anyone else! If you won’t do it, then…” Her lip trembled as a tortured sob escaped her throat. “Please, Will.”

  “Bloody hell, Laria. You know I’d do anything for you.” He snarled in frustration. “Fine! But I’m breaking it off at even the hint of trouble!”

  She smiled and hugged him hard. “Thank you!”

  Twining her fingers with William’s, she reached her other hand out, mirroring her corporeal body back with Declan. William felt warmth spread up his arm, and it made him shiver. As she made the connection to Declan, a blue glow pulsed around the hand with which she touched him. William’s body jerked as the path was completed, and he felt the distinct flow of Declan’s energy as it funneled through Laria. He reached out tentatively, ready to sever the connection at any moment.

  Even though Declan was sleeping, his energy was chaotic. Thoughts, fears, and worries swirled around him in a constant blur. And at the core of that vortex laid a knot of black malevolence, intimidating in its intensity, even at rest. William crept carefully around it to reach Declan’s memories beyond, taking the opportunity to siphon off some of Declan’s turmoil and offer him some peace. William recognized several memories as he scanned through, and he ignored many others, but it was when he reached Declan’s childhood that he slowed and looked more thoroughly for information.

  Declan’s early childhood looked carefree and happy. William bypassed much of that time, noticing when Declan’s behavior changed drastically. Suddenly, William was seeing violent fights between a young Declan and his family members, numerous disciplinary actions at school, and alienation of Declan from his friends. He stopped and went back, trying to pinpoint where a blissful childhood had turned so completely into near criminality.