Cursed: Legend of the Grimoire, Book One

by Leah Ross

  Always yours, Laria

  He let the letter fall to the desktop as his head dropped into his hands. I’m such a coward. I should have fought for her. Naught else mattered but our love for each other, yet we let so many things get in the way. I gave up the only woman I’ll e’er love, for what? My career? My honor? It’s all for naught! Och, Laria… I ne’er deserved ye. Perhaps the gods have punished me justly after all…

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The crew of the Grimoire bid farewell to Laria and their other fallen comrades at dawn. After the somber ceremony, Guinn addressed the men.

  “You all fought well last night. I blame no one but those filthy Rhitons for the loss of so many—” His voice broke with emotion. He cleared his throat. “—so many valuable members of our family. My wife would want us to continue on. She courageously gave her life protecting our future, and now we must keep her memory alive by telling Teagan all about her. My daughter will grow up right here, and remind us what we’re fighting for. I expect every one of you to keep her safe and teach her all the skills she needs for life aboard this ship. Now, let’s chase down those bastards!”

  The men cheered and scurried to their posts. Guinn located Morgan in the crowd and beckoned to him. “Mr. Morgan!”

  “Sir!”

  “Please join Mr. Maclairish and me in the chart room.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Morgan followed Guinn and Declan into the chart room. Teagan was asleep and Declan placed her gently into a basket in the corner. Morgan sat at the table and waited patiently. Declan dropped heavily into a chair and stared at the table with a vacant expression. The man’s spirit was completely shattered. His usually sparkling eyes were dull and clouded, and his bright red hair only accentuated the extreme pallor of his skin.

  Morgan reached out and squeezed Declan’s arm. “Sir? Are you all right?”

  Declan looked at Morgan, his eyes wet with tears. “I’ll be fine, lad.”

  Guinn sat down. “Mr. Maclairish tells me that he sent you to my cabin last night during the fight. Is this true?”

  “It is, sir,” Morgan replied.

  “And did you go?”

  “Aye, sir. I arrived at the door just as you were leaving. You didn’t see me.”

  Declan turned an anguished gaze on Morgan. “Why, lad?”

  Morgan frowned. “Why what, sir?”

  “Why did ye no’ stop it?”

  “Sir, I—” Morgan was speechless. He couldn’t believe that Declan was accusing him of shirking his duty.

  Declan was out of his chair in an instant, his fist twisted in the collar of Morgan’s shirt, glaring violently at the boy as he held the lad up against the wall. “Ye were there! Ye could have done somethin’! I sent ye in there tae protect them! How do I ken ye’re no’ conspirin’ wi’ those bastards against us?!”

  Morgan’s mouth dropped open in shock. His mind reeled in confusion. How could anyone, especially Declan, question his integrity?

  Guinn twisted the tip of his dagger into Declan’s ribs hard enough to emphasize his seriousness. “Let him go, Maclairish. Now.”

  Declan dropped Morgan to the floor, running shaky hands through his already disheveled hair. Guinn pointed his blade at the chair that Declan had vacated, glaring at the man as he resumed his seat, and then helped Morgan up. “One more exhibition of such disloyalty and disrespect from you, Maclairish, and you’ll find yourself locked in the brig again until I can dump your ass off my ship, is that understood?”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Guinn continued, the gravity in his tone utterly frightening. “I know that you’re upset. We all are. But just listen to yourself! Mr. Morgan has never once given us any reason to doubt his loyalty, and I sure as hell don’t doubt it now! He’s a boy, Declan! What exactly would you have had him do? Take on the Rhiton himself? He would have been killed! Teagan likely would have been as well! How can you—especially you—question Jonathan’s allegiance after everything he’s done for you?”

  “I would have done everythin’ in me power—!”

  Morgan stepped forward, and the earnestness in his young eyes shined brightly. “Upon my life, sir, I swear I did absolutely everything I could!”

  Declan jumped up. “It wasna enough!”

  “You can question my motives, or my ability, but never question my loyalty!” Morgan pointed at the basket in the corner. “I saved her life! She would not be here if not for me!”

  “Enough!” Guinn shouted. He pointed at Morgan. “You! Sit!” He pointed at Declan. “You! Shut the fuck up and sit down! I want to hear what really happened, not conjecture and accusation!” He took a deep breath, steeling his nerves, and sat down. “Now, Mr. Morgan, what happened?”

  Morgan bit his lip nervously. “Doctor Baskin was tending to Miss Laria when I arrived. I went to her and she introduced me to Teagan, let me hold her. I gave Teagan back and—” His breath caught in his throat as tears slid down his cheeks.

  Guinn squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “It’s all right, son. Go on.”

  “She was happy, sir. I’ve never seen such a blissful look on anyone’s face as the one Miss Laria had when she looked at Teagan. I wish she could have stayed that way forever.”

  “I do too,” Guinn agreed sadly.

  “It only lasted a moment. A Rhiton broke into the room. Miss Laria gave Teagan to me and told me to protect her. I hid with her in the closet. The doctor was killed. Miss Laria attacked the Rhiton with spells, but she was too weak. Then he came to the closet and tore off the door. I cast an invisibility spell, not knowing for sure if it would work. I was sitting right there, holding Teagan, but the Rhiton didn’t see us, so my spell must have worked. I was prepared to give my life for her, though. Had he seen us and wanted her, he would have had to go through me first, sir.” He cast a quick glare at Declan, who looked at the floor with a pained expression. “The Rhiton walked away, and that’s when you came back and killed him. I laid Teagan down in some clothes on the floor and left the room. I didn’t want to intrude on your grief, sir.” Morgan looked down at his hands.

  Guinn sat back and absorbed the story. He hadn’t been able to save his family, but this eight year old boy had saved his daughter’s life. If not for Morgan, Guinn would have lost everything. Laria had been right; Morgan was born for greatness.

  “Sir?” Morgan said. “Miss Laria was my family too. I’d give anything to have been able to save her.”

  “I know, lad.” Guinn glanced over at Declan. “Mr. Maclairish knows it too. He’s just misplacing his anger over something none of us had the power to stop.”

  “Aye, lad. I’m sorry.” Declan met Morgan’s eyes with sincere regret. “O’ course I dinna blame ye. Thank ye.”

  Morgan nodded once at Declan and turned to Guinn. “It was the invisibility spell that kept me and Teagan alive last night. Miss Laria taught me a little magic, but I’d like to learn more, sir.”

  Guinn nodded. “Yes indeed. I have every intention of commissioning you someday, and all officers need magic licenses. Besides, in your new position you will need as much training as you can get.”

  “Sir?” Morgan was puzzled.

  “I’m hiring a new cabin boy and a nanny for Teagan as soon as we get into port. You, Mr. Morgan, will have new responsibilities. You will assist Teagan’s nanny with caring for my daughter, but your primary duty will be to serve as Teagan’s tutor.”

  “Captain, I—” Morgan’s face flushed. “I barely have a basic education, sir.”

  “We will start immediately remedying that. Teagan will not be old enough to start formal education for several years. In that time, lad, you will fill you head with knowledge, in preparation for imparting that knowledge to Teagan,” Guinn replied.

  “Knowledge of what, sir?”

  “Everything. Learn from the men, from Mr. Maclairish, from me. You will even continue to learn from Laria.” At Morgan’s shocked expression, Guinn gestured to the stack of books piled at the other end of the tabl
e. “Laria was the most talented mage in generations. These are her personal journals and texts. I am giving them to you. Keep them in your cabin and learn from the best source I can provide you.”

  Morgan was certain the captain was mistaken. “Sir, I don’t have a cabin.”

  “You do now,” Guinn said. “It’s not large, but it’s yours. You need a private place in which to study.”

  “Captain... You... I— I don’t know what to say, sir.” Morgan was completely flabbergasted.

  Guinn leaned forward and looked directly into Morgan’s eyes. “Jonathan, I will never be able to repay you for what you did for me last night. You saved my daughter’s life. Out of all the grief and tragedy of what was lost, you’ve given me something to live for. I only wish I could do more.”

  “Thank you, sir. It’s an honor to serve you.”

  “No, Mr. Morgan. The honor is mine.”

  ~*~

  Guinn watched as Morgan walked off to resume his duties in the galley. Then he turned back to Declan, assessing his quartermaster critically. “Declan, as your friend, I’m worried about you. I know the wounds are still fresh, and that it will take time to heal, but your behavior toward the boy was out of line.”

  “I apologize, sir.”

  “As your captain, I have to wonder at your current state of mind. I can’t have my quartermaster flying off the handle for no reason. Can you assure me that you’re able to continue your duties with the same level-headed diplomacy that I’ve come to expect from you?

  “Aye, sir. I can.”

  “Good. Then I want you to take some leave when we get into port.”

  “Captain, what ‘bout all the tasks needin’ to get done?”

  “I’ll handle them,” Guinn said. “It will take some time to resupply, repair, and hire new crew members. I don’t want to see you anywhere near this ship until we’re ready to leave port. Is that clear?”

  “What the devil am I supposed to do wi’ myself?” Declan asked, slightly intimidated by the prospect.

  “Whatever you enjoy doing, Declan. Whatever you used to do for fun.”

  Flashes of his troubled youth flitted through Declan’s brain. “I dinna think that would be a good idea, Guinn.”

  “Do whatever you want, as long as it does not involve being near the ship or doing anything resembling work, got it?”

  “Aye.”

  “Splendid,” Guinn said with finality, the matter closed. “I need you at your best for our next quest.”

  Declan raised an eyebrow. “Trust me, Captain. I am wholly engaged in huntin’ down those blasted Rhitons.”

  Guinn shook his head. “I swear to you that we’ll have our vengeance in time, but that’s not what I meant. We’re going after Mezriel’s Hoard.”

  “Be serious, Guinn. I’m no’ in the mood for humor.”

  “I am serious.”

  Declan regarded his friend warily. Though he’d heard it directly from Ashur, who claimed to be a manifestation of Mezriel himself, Declan didn’t want to let on just how much he knew and tried to play it off as a joke. “We’re goin’ after a fictitious treasure?”

  Guinn smiled. “It’s real, and I have proof.”

  “Now I ken ye’re daft.”

  “Not in the slightest. Mr. Morgan helped me locate Ahnrah’s circlet already, and I have a lead on one of the orbs. I’ll never manage it on my own, though. I need you.”

  “I reckon we’re keepin’ this information confidential?”

  Guinn grinned. “Does that mean you’re on board?”

  “I suppose someone needs to keep ye from gettin’ us all killed in some ill-fated treasure hunt.”

  Guinn patted Declan’s arm comfortingly. “We won’t start until you’re ready.”

  Seems to me, ye’ve already started, Guinn.

  ~*~

  William groaned inwardly as a knock sounded on his office door. He was atrociously behind in reviewing his ever-growing pile of new project blueprints, and he’d finally carved some time from his schedule to concentrate on them. He’d told his assistant Hayley that he did not want to be interrupted, and he seriously considered just pretending he’d gone deaf and ignoring the intrusion. When the knock came again, he sighed in exasperation, loudly enough that he hoped Hayley heard it, and went to the door.

  “Hayley, I told you—”

  “I know,” she apologized, “But—”

  “It’s not her fault, William.” Ambrose joined them at the door.

  William frowned at him but held the door open and welcomed him inside. Hayley shot William a look of concern and returned to her desk. He shut the door, offered Ambrose a seat, and strode to the bar. “Can I get you something?”

  “No, son,” Ambrose said firmly.

  William poured himself a drink and took his seat behind his desk. Setting the glass down, he eyed his friend critically. “You rarely leave your shop. What’s so important that you had to come to me?”

  “William, I just received some news. I needed to come tell you straight away.”

  Stomach plummeting, heart thudding, William struggled to remain calm. “What’s happened, Ambrose?”

  The old man reached across William’s desk, gazing intently from beneath his bushy white brows, and squeezed his friend’s hand hard. “It’s Laria, son.”

  William shook his head in stubborn refusal. “No.” He knew that Laria would be giving birth soon; had there been complications? “No,” he repeated, more forcefully. He already knew that she and Morgan had managed to help Declan successfully, but had that taken too much out of her? Was the baby all right? What about Guinn? What about Declan? What about—? William pressed his fists into his temples as a pitiful cry of frustrated grief tore from his throat. “Stop!” He sucked in a shuddering sob. “Gods, no!” He collapsed to the desktop in tears.

  Ambrose fought back his own sorrow as he stroked William’s blond head in comfort. “I’m sorry.” He waited a minute, then provided the details. “It happened two days ago, on the night of the baby’s birth.” William’s head snapped up, fear consuming his red-rimmed eyes. Ambrose smiled. “The baby’s safe, William. They were attacked, seemingly solely by virtue of their identity and fame. They lost many, the doctor, Laria… Guinn and Declan are unharmed, though completely gutted, I’m certain, over their loss.”

  “Jonathan?” William managed around the painful lump in his throat.

  Ambrose shook his head. “I’m sorry, son. I only got the top-level details. Regretfully, the fate of a mere cabin boy was not among them.”

  William’s heart constricted once more at the thought of having lost another friend. He’d felt connected to Morgan somehow, and though he couldn’t rationalize it, the fact that Morgan may have been lost to senseless violence before they’d even had a chance to explore their friendship tore William’s heart apart. It was cruel. It was unfair. And once again, William was left to fend for himself, hopelessly wishing he could do something to change things. He slammed his fist against the desk as an agonized cry left his pain raw and very much at the surface.

  “William,” Ambrose said softly, his gentle hand once more smoothing the young man’s hair. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Ambrose, why?!”

  “I told you why. Unfortunately, these things just happen sometimes.”

  “Not to my friends, they don’t!” William snarled angrily. “Gods! I wish… I just wish…”

  “What, son?”

  William expelled his held breath in a rush. “I just wish they weren’t there while I’m stuck here. I wish we weren’t so… separate. I could have done… something…”

  “Do you want me to get the list of names?” Ambrose asked helpfully.

  “I don’t…” William shook his head. “No.” He scowled. “Yes.” Then he threw his hands up. “Oh, fuck it all! Yes. I want to know.”

  “I’ll get it to you as soon as I can.” Ambrose stood, hovering over William for a few more seconds, his face drawn in concern. “Will you be all right?�
�

  “Eventually.”

  Ambrose squeezed his friend’s shoulder. “You know where to find me if you need to talk.” He went to the door.

  “Ambrose.” William gave him a sad smile when Ambrose turned. “Thank you for thinking of me.” Ambrose smiled back and let himself out quietly.

  William sat staring down at his desk, the paper strewn across it nothing but a blur of meaningless insignificance. His drink still sat untouched off to the side. He wanted to do something. Hell, he wanted to feel something. But he only felt hollow and empty. He couldn’t even muster the energy to hurl his glass of whiskey at the wall to try to alleviate some of his pain. He’d never see Laria again. His brain just couldn’t grasp the magnitude of that. Moreover, he might not ever see Morgan again. He hadn’t even really gotten to know the kid, but he’d wanted to. What did he do now?

  Without even thinking about it, he grabbed a stack of clean paper and a pencil. He needed to reach out to Guinn, to Declan. He started writing, but his thoughts were too jumbled. Crumpling his first attempt, he tossed it aside and tried again. After six failed letters, he groaned and dropped his head into his hands. What did he say? What could he say? What could he possibly say to his friends to make this messed-up situation any less tragic? He sighed. No wonder they’d left him behind.

  He thought back to something happier. To a time not scarred by grief. The Aeon Grimoire was ready to sail, Hannigan Architecture had just broken ground, and absolutely everything seemed possible. They’d all been together and ready to take on the world. He recalled that last blissful afternoon in the Terracova central garden with Laria. The weather had been perfect, warm sun filtering through the trees as they laid together on the grass. Then there had been no agendas, no worries, no impossible schemes. Just peace and true enjoyment of idle time spent with a friend.

  William closed his eyes and relived those perfect moments. Warm sun on his face, gentle fingers through his hair—he could almost feel them. Taking a deep breath, he could almost smell the silky grass beneath him, the flowers on the breeze, and Laria’s sweet skin. Sounds of life all around—children playing, people talking, the nearby stream, strands of music, Laria’s melodic laughter. The light blue linen of her dress caressed his cheek when she moved and he sighed in contentment. He wanted to live in this captured moment for eternity.