“No. Papa stays here, and we have ad-ven-tures.” Ran glared at his uncle making it clear by ‘we’ he’d meant himself and his father. No uncles allowed.
“I'll take you on an outing later when I come back,” Sarn assured him.
“No. Now.”
Sarn sighed. Having grown up orphaned, he understood better than anyone how much a child needed a father. Hell, he still was a son who needed a father. When he was younger, a few men had made half-assed attempts at the whole role model thing. But none of them had stuck around long enough to do the job.
Sarn looked at his son who met his glowing eyes with nothing but determination. What the hell was he doing raising a child when he had no idea what he was doing? Ran deserved better than him, better than this grubby cave.
He scooped Ran up before his son could forbid him again. His heart ached at the thought of disappointing the boy, but he had responsibilities. Setting a good example had to be his top priority, so he had to go face the consequences.
Surprise registered on the boy’s face. Ran opened his mouth to ask if they could go on an adventure now. Understanding dawned when he set the boy down next to the chest storing their clothes. His son nodded his approval of the clothing swap and squirmed out of his wet things.
Ran shivered in the damp, chill air of the cave until he bundled his son into dry clothes. But the boy still looked cold, so he wrapped his son in a blanket. Ran popped his thumb into his mouth and blinked sleepy eyes. Sarn took a seat on the ground.
Miren opened his mouth, but his dislike of the Rangers gave the teen pause. Sarn shook his head. He’d woken his son up, and it was his responsibility to put the boy back down for the night. Then he could slip away without feeling too guilty. Assuming he found some way to protect his son in his absence.
“You want to hear a story?”
Ran nodded, surprised at the offer. Usually, Miren read his son stories since the teen could read. Sarn watched the diversion take hold and bear fruit. Good because he needed more time to think. There had to be something he could use to protect his son.
Ran accepted his stuffed bear from his father and snuggled in close, believing he’d gotten his way. Sarn fought a smile as he kneaded his tingling fingers. There was something off about his son’s favorite toy. Before he could brood about it, the thought slipped his mind and another one replaced it supplying the perfect story.
“You tell the story now?” Ran hugged his bear and a twinkle faded from its button eyes.
“Yes, it’s about Shayari’s Queen.”
Even in memory, her alien splendor took his breath away. The January night had slid an icy knife through every seam numbing the healing welts on his back. He’d been seventeen for a little over two months then. Only a week had passed since he’d ended up in the dungeon, sick and bleeding from thirty lashes across his back. Worst of all, he still had no memory of what had led up to the whipping. So he'd stood there, teeth chattering as he berated himself for losing the respect of the Rangers.
“Papa?” Ran asked.
Sarn blinked, and memories sharp enough to draw blood three years later receded allowing speech.
“Yes—it was freezing. The forest had melted into the night. It was indistinguishable, I mean.” Sarn rubbed the back of his neck. Heat rushed to his face distracting him from the story but not the memories. The oppressive darkness of that night struck him. Something about it reminded him of tonight, but Beku’s voice cut off any further speculation.
You’re reckless, Ran’s mother accused. She'd subtracted herself from their lives two weeks before Ran’s fourth birthday, leaving their son half-orphaned. You’re irresponsible, irrational and plain selfish. It’s your fault I’m gone. Everything’s your fault.
“Papa?” Ran’s green eyes narrowed with worry as he cut across the accusations. The boy unearthed a hand from his blanket cocoon and laid it on Sarn’s arm. The touch broke the spell the past had woven.
Beku’s poisonous presence was still gone from their lives. Relieved, Sarn held his son a little tighter. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”
Miren leveled a look packed with worry. The weight of his concern slapped Sarn upside the head.
“You promised a story.” Ran hugged his stuffed bear, and its button eyes gave Sarn a reproachful look.
“Yes, I did.” Sarn paused to gather his thoughts. “I saw a silver glow, but the moon had already set. Her star-strewn crown cut through the rippling dark of the enchanted forest, and I asked Gregori what made the silver light—”
She’d come, carrying hope’s brand as she processed through a sea of trees. Great age had wafted off her bark and power had limned her in its pure light.
“Who is Gregori?” Ran asked.
“He’s one of the Rangers I sometimes work with while you’re asleep.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me she was Shayari—The Queen of All Trees. Said she was how our country got its name.”
“What happened next?”
“She stopped at the edge of the forest a stone’s throw from the twin circles of standing stones. They’re taller than I am—” and nothing magical could pass their cordon except him. Though tonight, even he’d had trouble. Would a day come when they’d bar him? Sarn shook such thoughts away.
“What did she look like?”
“She towered over all the trees around her, and they bent their crowns in deference. White light cascaded off her in intricate patterns. I wanted to trace them. Bubbles of brilliance ran up and down her trunk and along her luminous branches firing the clusters of stars twinkling in place of leaves. I wanted to go to her.”
‘Want’ wasn’t the right word. He’d had to go to her.
“Did you?” Ran squeezed Sarn’s arm.
Sarn shook his head, wishing he had. “No, he—Gregori—stopped me.”
The Queen of All Trees’ eyeless gaze had caressed him despite the distance. Maybe she’d known he wouldn’t be allowed to go to her. Sarn looked at his son, who waited for the story to continue.
“What happened next?”
“Twinkling lights launched from the tips of her branches. They whirled on the wind forming rival constellations—” And Sarn knew how to protect his son. He fumbled through the pockets lining his tunic and trousers searching for her gift.
“Can I see it?” Ran extended a hand palm up toward him.
“Yeah, it’s here—” Sarn dug out a waterproof pouch and removed an object radiating a silver glow. It was the size of a peach pit and soft due to the filaments covering it. She was all that was good and noble in the world, and her power lingered in the object he held out to his son. The smallest part of her would protect the boy.
Ran turned the Queen of All Trees’ gift over in his hands delighting in it. Too late Sarn noted his brother’s sour expression. When Miren moved in to check out the thing, Sarn fished out another one and handed it over.
“You have two?” Miren looked at his brother in surprise.
“Half a dozen actually, the air was thick with them.” Sarn shrugged and pulled out four more. He tended to pocket anything odd he came across since it made great fodder for conversations.
Ran accepted another one with a grateful smile. Sarn returned the remaining three to its waterproof pouch and laid it by his son in case two weren’t enough.
“Sarn—”
“I know—”
“Yeah, but will you—?”
Sarn nodded. His plan of telling his son a story to put the child to sleep had failed. Ran was more awake now than before and curious to boot. But he’d found a way to safeguard his son, so his mission had been a success.
“What do you think it is?” Miren handed the item back to Sarn.
“A seed maybe, I'm not sure.” Sarn shrugged. He’d never given them much thought until now. She must have known he’d need the gift someday. What a wonder she was.
“You don’t want to hang on to one?” Sar
n held out a seed to his brother. On his hand, it pulsed with the Queen of All Trees’ power.
Miren shook his head. “No, we’ll be fine here. You hang on to them for luck.”
“Thank you.” Sarn slid the seed into a waterproof pouch.
Miren held his hand out to his nephew, but Ran hugged his treasure to his chest and shook his head.
“It’s okay,” Sarn said to his brother, then to his son, “You keep those. It’s a gift twice given, once to me and now to you.” Their light would shield his son from whatever he’d sensed and his brother too.
Miren glanced at the door. Sarn got off his ass to take his punishment like the man he kept claiming he was.
“No,” Ran said without taking his eyes off the seeds. They looked enormous compared to his little fingers.
“I’ll be back. Keep those with you until I return.” Damn the Rangers and their need to control his every waking moment. At least it gave him an excuse to march back outside and separate fact from fancy. If there was some dark force at work, he wanted to know even if there was nothing he could do about it.
Ran nodded and readied another argument, but Miren cut him off.
“You don’t need his permission to go.”
Miren was right, but Ran owned part of his free time. If his son gave permission, it would make the leaving less painful since he already had Miren’s blessing.
“I’ll take you somewhere nice I promise—as soon as I return. And you too, Miren, when you get a break from school. I know it’s hard having me gone so much.” Sarn regarded his hands wishing he could do more, but there wasn’t time enough to be both father and brother. He was always letting one of them down. I have to try harder.
Ran considered his offer and ignored the pointed glares his uncle sent. “You promise?”
Sarn glanced at Miren to include him. “I promise.”
Some of Miren’s anger drained away revealing the child he’d raised, and the sight hurt so much, tears pricked Sarn’s eyes. He hadn’t done enough for Miren when his brother was young.
“Hey, you did the best you could. Stop feeling sorry for things you can’t change.” Miren squeezed Sarn’s shoulder, and he nodded. Sending Miren to school might make amends for all he’d gotten wrong.
Ran echoed his nod, though the child was unhappy about this arrangement. “You finish the story first.”
Sarn searched about for inspiration. “Legend says one day the Queen of All Trees will crown a woman with a crown of many lights. Or something—” He trailed off.
Ran looked from the seeds to his father until it dawned on him the story had ended. “No more?” he asked his disappointment plain.
“Sorry, I haven’t seen the Queen of All Trees since then.” He wished he’d seen her tonight. Sarn ignored his brother’s glare. If Miren stared any harder, he risked straining something important.
Ran put the seeds on his stuffed bear’s belly and held his arms out for a hug. Sarn embraced his son taking care not to wet the boy’s clothes then tucked Ran back under the covers. While Ran resumed his study of the seeds, Sarn caught the button eyes of his son’s stuffed bear—and they read his worry. He reached out and patted Bear’s fuzzy head, receiving a smile from Ran in return. With one last regret-filled glance at his son, Sarn heaved himself to his feet.
“We’ll be fine. Go on before you’re missed.” Miren made shooing gestures.
“Thank you. I’ll see you both later.” Sarn opened the door and stepped out.
A shadow flitted across the threshold, and he turned, feeling eyes upon him. It was just a scrawny rat peeking out from a narrow cleft in the wall opposite him. No one waited to ambush him. Miren and his son both called out goodbyes as Sarn pulled the door shut behind him. Hearing the telltale click of the lock, Sarn tensed. They were on their own until he returned. No one down here would help if trouble knocked.
Trepidation rode him as he walked away. He’d been gone for an hour already, and it would take another hour to reach the Rangers. What would he find when he rejoined them?
Chapter 5
Jagged stone comprised the tunnel Sarn followed. A strip of piss colored lumir attempted to light it. His eyes made up for the lack as he considered his options. Go back the way he’d come, or find a new route. It took his internal map only a moment to return with an answer. If he cut through the heart of gangland, he could shave off twenty minutes. But he needed the Rangers to stay clustered by those rocks.
For the next forty-five minutes, Sarn worked his way north-eastwards. When people icons flared up on his head map, he darted into one of the many staircases. Anyone out this late had nothing good on his mind.
Ahead, the tunnel belled out into a mile-long cavern, and its width was half its length. Best of all, no people icons littered the enclosed space. Lumir dotted the ceiling in constellations of stars leaving the ground in shadow.
Sarn viewed the long slope leading up to the underground castle from behind a boulder. The fortification squatted more than two miles from the main areas of habitation. His goal lay in the north tower where the Litherians had hidden a staircase leading up to a rock pile on the surface. Why they had needed a giant castle down here in the bowels of the earth, no one knew, but the Litherians had built it for a purpose.
Sarn checked his head map again. Yes, a cluster of symbols he recognized as belonging to the Rangers hung out about a hundred feet from the exit on the surface. He waited a few more minutes, but neither saw nor sensed anyone in or near the castle. Stonework broke up the expanse providing plenty of cover for him to slink between.
A light bloomed behind Sarn at the same time a translucent hand landed on his shoulder, scything through it in a burst of intense cold and pain immobilizing his arm. Breaking from cover, he tripped as magic exploded out of him in a wave of green radiance. And it passed right through the ghost whose hands tried to catch the magic streaming past. Its dead eyes fixed on Sarn.
"What do you want?"
But the apparition stared at him and turned its hand, so the light it had gathered poured out. Magic crashed down on Sarn, driving him to his knees. Something inside him reached out and gathered it up, sliding a warm membrane over his skin to thaw out his shoulder. Still tingling, his now unfrozen arm reported in for duty.
Sarn pushed to his feet. Maybe he'd exhausted it, or maybe it had no more tricks to pull. The ghost child just floated between him and the castle.
"Why are you following me? I don’t know how to help you, but I intend to try." Sarn scrubbed a hand over his face, but when he lowered it, the ghost had gone. A rat scampered atop a nearby rock pile, its whiskered nose twitching as it tested the air. It was scrawny, like the one he’d seen outside his cave but Sarn dismissed it as one more strange coincidence in a night full of them.
Closing his traitorous eyes, Sarn stuck out a hand and laid it on a section of crumbling wall. He faced the castle and yanked his head map into view. Had his spectacular loss of control had an audience? No people icons popped up in the tunnel leading to this cavern, so maybe no one had seen him.
The Rangers' symbols remained scattered across the meadow, and their number included the commander. Damn, he had to get moving. Walking blind, Sarn followed the vague markings on his head map. If he'd come here more often, there would have been more detail.
Finding the remains of a footbridge spanning the dry moat gave Sarn a reference. And his magic had no interest in the rotting wood, so the flow of useless information cut off. Sarn crossed expecting at any moment to feel a tingle between his shoulder blades. But no warning materialized. He entered through the raised portcullis and risked a glance at his surroundings. Thank Fate only dust stirred in his passage. Nothing else moved, and no ghosts showed up.
Still seeing and sensing no one, he sprinted. Cutting across a courtyard, he dodged broken masonry and things discarded by previous tenants. He headed for a wood door on the side of the tower. Its hinges had swelled up from the damp, but a good
tug wrenched it open. His eyes blazed, and their brilliance devoured the darkness, revealing steps.
Sarn hurried up the stairs as the temperature plummeted. Cold gripped him, slowing his progress. Against the sliver of unrelieved black at the stair's top, a pale shape materialized. It was the ghost child again in all its transparent creepiness, and it pointed at something behind Sarn.
"What do you want?" And why was a mindless ghost stalking him? He got no answer, as usual.
Twice Sarn checked over his shoulder and saw nothing except shadows. The third time, he started as Hadrovel reared out of the shadows, hand extended. Sarn scrambled out of reach, and the Orphan Master collapsed into the bad memories that had spawned him. Resting his cowled head against the stonework, Sarn closed his eyes. Hadrovel was dead; Jerlo had told him so, and he had no reason to doubt the man. Was he going mad?
Sarn opened his eyes. The ghost boy was still there, its pallid face anxious. "Why did they kill you? Was it because your eyes are like mine only paler?” Silence grated on Sarn’s nerves. “Fine don’t answer. Let me pass. I'm in enough trouble as it is."
The ghost cocked its head to one side, thinking. Without warning, it slammed into Sarn's chest. He struggled to draw in a breath. Darkness wavered at the edges of his vision, winnowing away the staircase. Slumping onto a step, Sarn shivered as the ghost tore out of his back. Transparent feet touched down on a step level with his eyes, and a child's hand seized his hood throwing it back.
The ghost's icy fingers had lost their transparency. Finding the scar on his cheek, the ghost traced it. As it faded away, the specter’s mouth shaped frantic words silenced by the grave. It made one last effort at speech then disappeared, releasing Sarn. The arctic cold gripping the stairwell dissipated as he rose and hauled ass out of there.
After ascending four stories, Sarn entered a low ceiling room in the turret. He depressed a gray stone at the edge of a decorative mural. A section of wall slid aside revealing another unlit staircase twisting into unrelieved darkness. The glow of his eyes increased until every step lay highlighted before him. Still, Sarn hesitated, his gaze combing the space for any hint of the supernatural. He'd had enough ghosts for one night.
Curse Breaker_Enchanted [The More Epic Version] Page 5