The Iron Cursed

by J. M. Briggs

  The world was blurry, but they could see the hillside and the dark black opening. Everything was getting cold. Fingers dug into the ground. It was moist. Blood they released darkly, pouring out of their own wound. The ache of magic filled their chest: it burned and yet they weren’t done. A few feet away Medraut was gloating, watching them struggle with a small smile. So this was how it ended. Betrayed on three sides: wife, friend, and kin. The first two seemed insignificant now. Had they been able to see Gwenyvar they would have wished her well, begged Luegáed to take care of her.

  The pain was getting worse, but they struggled to their knees. They could sense the pulse of the magic in the ground beneath them, they could smell it in the air. It rippled across their flesh, providing a small comfort. Yet it had also been a burden. Merlin had taken them from their family long ago and while it had always been their destiny, their purpose to serve the realm, they allowed themselves a flicker of anger. Still, it changed nothing, and they pushed on the magic, urging it towards the iron on the ground.

  The iron bent and twisted in the air, taking the shape they wanted; the shape they needed. All the weapons were transformed by the white sparks of their magic. They pushed it. The metal was flung into the opening in the hill, into the tunnel the Sídhe had carved into their world. In a flurry of magic, the iron stretched into bars, covering the entrance and locking the remaining Sídhe inside the tunnels. Out of their world. Satisfaction was short lived: their thirst was worse and the cold was consuming them.

  Everything changed, and yet nothing did. They were in a bed with a beautiful blonde woman beside them holding their hand. Her green eyes were full of tears, her features resigned and sad. Nevertheless, she forced a small smile for them and reached out. Her skin was smooth against their own face, brushing tenderly over wrinkles. There were faces beyond hers that all looked sad and worried. Above them the rough rafters of the long house were hazy and the distant sounds of the community were muffled. The pain was already past. The woman said something soothing, but the words no longer meant anything. Their heart was slowing and their eyelids were heavy. It was time to sleep.

  The voices were louder, washing over them as the darkness took over. Restless and worried as a thousand images flashed before their eyes. They didn’t know what to focus on. Understanding eluded them. Confusion took over and the darkness churned. A strange high-pitched voice taunted them from beyond their reach. Around them the darkness shifted.

  Fighting to stay above the water, their limbs were already heavy. The current kept pushing them faster and faster. Water splashed over their head. They’d been trying to breathe only to fill their mouth with the foul water. Coughing, they flailed, but it was becoming harder and harder. Another wave crashed over them, knocking what little air they had out of their lungs. They scrambled, grasping at the surface, trying to hold themselves above the river’s surface. Then they were pulled down. Everything blurred; the last air was gone. Blackness crept in; they couldn’t move their arms, and then the black won.

  It swirled around them, thicker than before, taking on a life of its own. They were drowning again, but not in water. The laughing was louder. The voices were shouting to fight. Some swore, some shouted advice and it all turned into a deafening dim. Yet the darkness was winning, closing in as that strange voice urged it on. In the darkness, shapes were forming, but monstrous ones. They were familiar, strange and frightening.

  Rocks were falling. The cliff was collapsing right above them. The ground shook, sending them falling to their knees. Grasping at the ground, their heart raced, but they couldn’t move. They looked up. Rocks were falling. They were too close. The first pebbles hit and they managed to stand. A few steps were all they managed before the quivering ground sent them falling once more. The rocks hit the ground with thunderous crashes. Everything was falling. A rock hit, they screamed. Another rock hit and another and another. In the distance, the screams of the village echoed. They couldn’t run away. The rocks were falling. Another hit and the world went dark.

  They didn’t stay long in the dark this time. It changed too quickly, but something was closer now. That strange voice, the one that didn’t belong at all was closer. So close they could feel it behind them. It was creeping up, giggling even as they tried to understand. What was happening? Where were they? What had happened to them? Only the darkness won and pulled them under again, deeper and deeper into terrible memories.

  Coughing, they tried to gasp, but it was no use. The ache filled their body. Their muscles were all but gone. They couldn’t stand from the bed even if they tried. They coughed again and tried to call for help, but there was no one there anymore. Everyone was hiding, running. They didn’t blame them. Moving their head, they examined the sores on their chest. Sweat and dirt were caked around the black bubbles of skin and pus. All hope was lost; there was no way back. With quivering limbs, they tried to move again. Hunger was gnawing at their stomach and they were desperate for a drink: anything would have done, but it was all gone. There was nothing left but to die. Muscles quivered and they coughed again. Black spots danced across their vision and they collapsed back on the bed.

  The prairie stretched out before them. Rolling hills golden with the native grasses and sun cooked dirt. A bison herd was moving slowly and grazing peacefully in the distance. It should have been serene, but their heart was pounding and they kept moving. Behind them, they could hear war cries and shouting. They ran faster, urging their aching legs to keep moving. Their lungs burned, but they kept running. A sharp pain in the back made them slow. It radiated outward, sending ripples of pain down their body. They slowed, stumbling over the rocks. An arrow. They fell to the ground, meeting it with a hard thump. The darkness claimed them once again.

  They’d almost become used to the dark. It was comforting in its own way down here below the streets of Paris. There was a perfect stillness around them. Even knowing that the city was busy above did nothing to diminish it. They could hear nothing of the city now, but every so often they thought there was a vibration that made it down through the rocks. Flexing their fingers they hissed in pain as the dozens of tiny scraps pulled too far and dirt dug deeper into their flesh. The ache through their body was beginning to ease.

  It was too hot through. Reaching up they loosened the collar of their uniform; it was meaningless to them after all now. Across their fingertips, they thought they could still hear an echo of the Hammer’s power, but it was gone now. Buried beneath ancient bones in another tunnel far from where they’d come to die. Even if they’d wanted to they could never find the Hammer again, or a way out of the catacombs. There was a hint of temptation to try. A desire to get out and somehow convince the Gestapo and the rest of the SS that they’d been innocent in the theft of the Hammer. Dietrich was most certainly dead already, but the reasons hadn’t changed. Sighing, they leaned back against the wall.

  Time had lost meaning. Their fingers went up and found the small carving they’d made. A last little message, one of loyalty to Germany: the real Germany of families, and not the twisted form it now held. Their arm fell and they exhaled slowly. There was no point in delaying it. Starvation would take time. While peaceful, they didn’t wish to sit in the darkness alone for so long. Too much time to think and miss their family. Dear Ilse and their children. Their hand found the service firearm and brought it up to their temple. Placing their finger on the trigger, they inhaled one more time and then squeezed.

  The cold was unbearable. They were shivering and stumbling through the snow. There was just too much of it. They weren’t going to make it back. Slipping in the snow, they tried to adjust their leg, but it was too stiff. The muscles were exhausted. Another step. They almost fell again but staggered forward. Around them, the wind howled and the white veil thickened. Another step.

  The shivering stopped. They stopped moving. A thought tried to form, but they couldn’t grasp it. They knew something but couldn’t remember what. The cold was too much. Their eyes were heavy. Their muscles
ached, but the cold kept coming. Another step. The cold was digging in, deeper and deeper now. They inhaled, but even with the knitted hood it was too cold. Another step: their legs wouldn’t bend. They fell into the snow. Cold all around them. There was no heat left in the ground. They couldn’t feel their legs anymore. They tried to move, but it didn’t work. Thoughts wouldn’t form properly, but one tiny fear pushed forward. They were dying.

  Falling back into the darkness, they sensed someone right behind them. They tried to turn, but the form gripped their neck. Icy fingers dug into their skin. Every hair on their arms rose and goosebumps erupted all the way down their body. A faint blue glow coming from behind them lit the darkness. They didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Around them the darkness was full of their voices, whispering advice, but none of it helped.

  “Iron Soul.” The cold form leaned closer. “Iron Soul, so many bad dreams.”

  They tried to speak, but no words would form. Too many voices, too many languages and questions all fighting. They couldn’t choose the one to say. No unity, no agreement. Only confusion and the cold.

  “I am Brekszta,” the form said. “And this is only the beginning.”

  It struck them. Cold blasted through their body, making their legs collapse. They tried to fight, but the darkness was thick. The shapes in the dark were reaching for them. More dreams, more deaths were waiting. They could sense them, almost remember them. Almost touch each of the times they’d been pulled under.

  The sheets tangled about their legs: they were trapped and even a fast kick did not dislodge them. There was knocking nearby, almost frantic. Someone called a name, but it was unfamiliar. There was darkness around them, but they were on a soft surface. It smelled safe and familiar, but they couldn’t remember. Another kick sent a heavy blanket and the sheets to the floor.

  They sat up and looked around. In the corner of their eyes, there was a flare of magic. Blue sparks appeared and the knocking stopped. The sparks spun around a strange latch on the door and it swung open. A young woman with long red hair dashed into the room with wide blue eyes. Lights suddenly came on, blinding them for a moment.

  The redhead stopped as suddenly as she’d come in, studying them with fear being replaced by confusion on her face. The woman was waiting for something, but what they weren’t sure. Opening their mouth, they tried to find some words, but the mess of voices was too much. There were too many words and so there was only silence.

  “Alex?” the woman called. She took a step closer, bending slightly to better look at them. “Are you okay?”

  They understood the words, and yet something about the question was alien. Something throbbed in their chest at the gentle and worried tone. Opening their mouth, they started to say something, but the words died. They didn’t know what to say. The woman sat on the edge of the bed next to them. Surprisingly there was no rush of irritation or worry at the very familiar action. Yet they couldn’t summon up a name.

  “Alex?”

  “Who are you?” The question spilled forth and the woman drew back as if she’d been slapped.

  “Alex? That- that isn’t funny.” A pained sort of laugh escaped the woman and her eyes darted over to the desk where a laptop and a phone sat. “Uh, should I call Morgana?”

  That name was familiar. Their chest twisted as fondness, aggravation, and sadness hit all at once. The woman reached over and caught their face, turning them so their eyes met hers. The woman’s eyes were bright blue and intense as they searched for something. It was familiar. Another voice, a softer one in the background, was growing louder.

  “Alex, I need you to focus on my face,” the woman said. “My name is Nicki. Nicole Russell. I’m a mage like you and a student in Ravenslake, Oregon.” The words were familiar to them. Something must have reflected that in their eyes because Nicki straightened up and smiled a little. “That’s it, focus on me. Your name is Alexandra Adams. You’re a student of English Literature, remember?”

  Closing their eyes, they shook their head. The voices were clamoring and arguing now. That softer voice was louder than ever and pushing forward. The knot in their chest was twisting. Nicki grabbed their arms and held them steady.

  The softer voice was winning. Alex. That name echoed. Groaning, they shook their head and things cleared. Bringing up their hands, they rubbed at the side of their head. Nicki lowered her hands and smiled at them. She nodded encouragingly and the fog began to clear.

  “Alex?”

  “I’m fine Nicki,” Alex said. Releasing a slow breath, she dropped her hands and shuddered. “Sorry… got lost in a nightmare, I guess.”

  “You guess?” Nicki raised a doubtful eyebrow. “Alex, that isn’t normal.”

  “I’m fine.” Alex forced a smile and scooted back on the bed. “It was weird though.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “It was just memories of my other lives,” Alex replied. She looked towards her desk, frowning a little at the faint blue glow from her computer. It was familiar. “Except at the end.”

  “What happened at the end, Alex?” Nicki asked. She jumped up and grabbed the small notebook from Alex’s desk, holding a pencil over the page. “It may be important.”

  “I doubt it.” Alex shook her head, but couldn’t help but remember the cold. “Like I said it was just a nightmare.”

  “You couldn’t remember me or your own name!”

  “Yes, I could! It just got... shuffled to the side for a moment,” Alex protested. She could see the worry in Nicki’s eyes and knew an argument was coming. “Brekszta,” she said quickly. “There was this being in the darkness between the nightmare segments, I guess. It called itself Brekszta.”

  “Brekszta,” Nicki repeated. She sounded out the name again and wrote it down. “That sounds familiar. What else?”

  “Nothing else,” Alex grumbled. “Look, Nicki, it was a nightmare.”

  “You were tossing and turning and shouting in your sleep.” Nicki fixed her with a look. “We should call Merlin and Morgana.”

  “No,” Alex said. She shook her head. Her hand brushed across the soft plush fur of her stuffed dog. Picking up Galahad, Alex brought him to her chest and hugged him tightly. Nicki’s gaze softened. “Look, Nicki, we’ll see them tomorrow. It was just a nightmare and maybe some kind of warning.”

  “What did you dream about?” Nicki asked. Her voice was gentler this time.

  Laying back on her bed, Alex looked up at the ceiling of her dorm room. For a moment she didn’t say anything and hoped that Nicki would leave it alone. Of course, it was Nicki, so she just pulled out the desk chair and sat down. A sigh escaped Alex and she turned her head to look at her friend and fellow mage.

  “Dying.” Nicki’s eyes widened and Alex rolled over to face the wall, pulling Galahad to her chest. “There’s a lot of old bad memories in my head now, Nicki; sometimes they’re going to come out. I need some sleep so don’t forget to turn the light off.”

  Nothing happened for a few minutes. Nicki didn’t move, but thankfully she didn’t try to talk either. Then there was a sigh of defeat and the tear of a page being removed from a notebook. Alex listened to the paper flutter as Nicki folded it up and eased her death grip on Galahad. A moment later the lights were turned off leaving her in the dark room alone. However, Nicki didn’t shut the door when she left.

  11

  The Old Wife and Ally

  Morgana’s living room was bright with natural sunlight pouring through the windows. A pitcher of iced tea, a plate of cookies, and a bowl of mixed nuts were waiting on the coffee table amongst the sofas and armchairs. Alex gave Morgana a smile but was aware of the older woman checking her over with her eyes. Somehow Alex doubted there was enough under-eye concealer in the world to fool Morgana.

  Nevertheless, Alex gave Morgana a warm smile and on impulse leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek. Morgana raised an eyebrow, but Alex caught her lips twitching into a smile. Alex nodded to Merlin, who was watching her with sharp br
own eyes. Nervousness twisted in her gut. He hadn’t tried to talk to her about her reaction in his office yet, but Alex was sure it was coming.

  She sat down in the armchair and poured a glass of iced tea. Nicki sat on the end of the sofa closest to her and Alex offered her the glass. Her roommate took it, giving her a small nod in return. There was another knock on the door and Morgana moved to open it. A few moments later Bran and Aiden strolled in with Lance and Jenny only a few steps behind them. Alex gave them all a wide smile, noting that Bran and Jenny both looked at her a bit funny and started pouring iced teas for everyone. She considered standing up to hug Jenny, but her legs quivered uneasily at the mere thought of getting up. Holding back a yawn, she focused on her task and keeping her hand steady.

  Alex knew Nicki was watching her. That had been the case all day and Alex was left to wonder if Nicki had gotten any sleep this morning after the incident. She hadn’t managed to fall asleep but had stayed curled up in the bed for a few more hours. The weight of the other mage’s eyes was beginning to itch a bit. Everyone settled down and the plate of cookies was eagerly attacked. They might have had breakfast only an hour ago, but that really didn’t matter.