Gregori waited for the trees to do something. But they continued to stand sentinel unconcerned with him and his insignificant doings. After dragging in a deep breath, he fought to get a grip. Six hours on a boat after witnessing the forest’s behavior last night had unhinged him. The sooner he got out of here, the better.
Movement startled Gregori until he zeroed in on its cause. Sarn had stirred. Gregori let out a relieved breath. The Kid would be okay. He'd picked the right dosage. It was time to watch his handiwork. Besides, it would spoil the test if the Kid spotted him.
Spinning on his heel, Gregori searched for a good hiding place. A cave would be great, but he saw none. No good-sized boulders met his searching gaze either. There was nothing to hide behind or inside unless he wanted to climb a tree.
Gregori gazed up at one of those bark-covered monsters. Shaking his head, he seized a branch before he could regret his decision. He’d made it into the lowest story before Sarn sat up and vomited. Guilt stabbed Gregori the longer the Kid remained doubled over. Maybe he'd overdone it a tad.
After a long while, the fit subsided into dry heaves, and the Kid collapsed on his side. Sarn lay there unmoving. Fear feasted on Gregori until the Kid sat up and made some effort to hide the signs of his recent sickness. Rising, Sarn staggered toward the river without doing any reckoning at all.
Gregori marveled. How had the Kid known? No sign of the River Nirthal lingered here. If his perfect hearing failed to pick up the river’s chatter, then Sarn could hear nothing but the wind as well. No opportunistic moss covered the boles of the enchanted trees as it did within a half mile of the river. What had clued him in?
Gregori watched until the Kid had melted into the tree line, then contemplated his next move. Part of him wanted to follow and discover firsthand what the Kid would do next. But if he did, he risked discovery. With a shrug, he left Sarn to his own devices and the test to run its course. Besides, it was time he returned to Mount Eredren to await the results.
Good luck Kid, he thought in the direction Sarn had headed. You’ll need it.
Sarn rinsed his mouth out for the fifth time, but the damned acidic taste refused to wash away. He scooped up more water, splashing it over his face. At his knee, a brook babbled as it flowed over roots drinking their fill.
He’d kill Gregori for this. This was all the jerk’s doing. He pictured his long fingers wrapped around the asshole’s throat, but the image disintegrated. Gregori had taught him so much. The teacher and the kidnapper, how could the man fit both under the same skin and not go mad from the duality?
Gregori—the asshole—where was he? The jerk had to be around here somewhere to gloat.
Let him watch. Let him think he’d won this round. Sarn pictured his fist introducing itself to Gregori’s face. In his fantasy, it made a satisfying thunk as the man fell unconscious at his feet. Given what had happened today, he might even get away with it.
Damn Gregori and his meddling, Sarn punched a patch of moss then met the eyes of a startled rat. Part of its brown ear was missing, he noted as those beady eyes glared at him and the rat bared its teeth.
“Scat,” he shook his fist at the creature, and it darted into the underbrush. What was with the rats today? He’d seen more than the usual compliment. Hunger cramped his stomach, and he scanned the trees around him for anything edible. Even in spring, there would be something.
Before he’d spent a year with the Rangers, he knew every plant and its use, and every animal and its sign. All those lessons had led up to the first of Gregori’s little tests. The last one had left him with a concussion and a promise from Jerlo there would be no more. What the hell had changed Gregori’s mind—temporary insanity, an edict from Jerlo—what? At least, this time, he had no injuries to deal with. Sarn rubbed his brow. His head felt light from either hunger or the lingering effects of the drug. He could still taste its bitter promise of unconsciousness, so he spat out another mouthful of water.
Done grumbling, for now, he worked on figuring out where in Shayari he was. Enchanted trees surrounded him, but they stood there mimicking their non-magical brethren. How long would their good behavior last? And what of the strange things he’d encountered last night? The glow of his eyes played across their trunks, merging with the magic rushing inside them, lending them a sinister air.
Bubbles of brilliance passed up and down their bark in a never-ending stream. From branches to leaves, the lights moved in a constant dance of color at the limit of sight. If Sarn squinted, patterns came into focus, but they made his head throb.
The trees regarded him, and he felt the weight of their stares. They knew he was there. Maybe their awareness stretched to what had happened.
“Why did you kill those people? Why did you let that boy die?”
The forest maintained its silence and its stillness made his skin crawl.
Sarn closed his eyes. Would the forest kill him too? Probably not since he respected its rules. The map in his head unspooled and included a lot more of Shayari’s landmass than the last time he’d checked it. While he’d been unconscious, the map had updated itself.
A white star pulsed. “Ran,” Sarn whispered, reaching toward his son, then checked the impulse. He needed a direction. Ran would be okay until he returned. Levering himself up in stages, Sarn made it to a sit without blacking out. The map icon flashed in his peripheral vision, but he ignored it. It had selected the fastest route back, but it could wait.
Sarn tipped forward onto hands and knees and crawled to the nearest tree. Digging his fingers into those rough, vertical grooves, he inched himself skyward. A projectile hurtled toward him, but he dove sideways. Magic got between him and the ground and turned the earth elastic. After bouncing twice, Sarn landed on his side with the breath knocked out of him. A rat bared its teeth not more than a foot away, and the cold breath of something unnatural raised the hairs on the back of his neck.
Before he could react, an insect leaped off of the rat’s back and burrowed into the leaves. Roots tore a hole in the earth, and the lifeless rat toppled into it and disappeared under a pile of dirt. Like last night, a viscous black substance spurted out of the earth. Sarn backed away and so did the trees surrounding him, but not enough to reveal the sky. Neither did the foul geyser reach that high before it petered out leaving a black puddle.
His gut had been right. Whatever had happened last night was just the tip of something far worse. And now he was stuck out here with whatever was happening with no provisions or clues. Damn you, Gregori! Sarn punched the ground.
Two more projectiles dropped, and Sarn rolled aside ready to curse the forest too, but a root smacked the object, rolling it into his waiting palm. Turning his head, he regarded an apple the size of a melon.
Its swollen outward appearance aside, the All-fruit tasted of honey, cinnamon, and crisp apple. Why was the forest being so generous? While he snacked, he looked for the All-fruit vine and found it draped over a tree’s lower branches. Plenty of super-sized apple lookalikes hung from the vine absorbing magic to infuse into its fruit.
One All-fruit filled the void in his belly leeching some of the pain drilling his skull. By the time he hit the core, he could pass for human again. A hole opened in the ground by his boot for the refuse. Too full to consume the edible core, Sarn dropped it into the hole, and it sealed up. What lay under the forest? Why enchant the forest in the first place?
“What are you guarding?” Sarn pivoted, playing the green glow of his eyes over each tree in turn. They stood straighter in answer like the sentinels he’d always assumed they were.
Sarn gathered up the two remaining All-fruits. When the forest gave something to a traveler, it expected some form of gratitude in return. Sarn fumbled in one of his pockets for a burlap sack. After dropping the All-fruits inside, he tied it closed.
Out of time, he sought the words the forest waited to hear. Looming over him, those giants grew larger every minute he remained mute. Branches ended in
knife-edged tips, and their leaves were flesh-tearing stars.
When Sarn opened his mouth, the words changed on his tongue as the geas binding him to the truth pulled tight. “I can’t.” Sarn dropped the sack, and the All-fruits rolled in the dirt. “I can’t thank you. Why did you let them kill the boy? Why kill the killers afterward? Why didn’t you save him? Your rules don’t permit anyone to harm a child in here, so why didn’t you stop them?”
The wind kicked up, blowing with a fury matching his. It tugged on his cloak, but not a single leaf stirred. All was still except a solitary cockroach scuttling past Sarn’s boot. Had he gone too far? Would they destroy him for speaking up when no one else would? They had allowed a child to die, so why should they care if he survived? Sarn waited with every muscle tense and prepared for flight.
A root swatted the All-fruit, sending it rolling. The fruit stopped at his boot. After knocking the second one in his direction, two forest giants slid aside, and behind them, other enchanted monoliths broke ranks. They created a zigzagging path where none had existed before. What was this a peace offering?
When he made no move to pick up the fruit, several roots breached the surface. They coiled around the All-fruits and the sack and handed the results to him. A branch touched his back and pushed him toward the trail the forest had created.
A chill invaded his body and soul as the dead boy coalesced next to him. Flat, emerald eyes fixed on Sarn, urging him to run. Cold seeped into his skin raising goosebumps as the specter raised a finger and pointed.
Eam’meye erator, said a voice on the wind.
A cockroach swarmed up one of those enchanted monoliths leaving a trail of black slime in its wake from the foul puddle it had bathed in. Ice slid down the darkening tree’s bark, cracking it so a putrid black liquid could ooze inside. A frost-rimmed branch swung toward Sarn, dripping ichor, but he dodged it as the infected roach leaped onto another tree to kick off its transformation. A glowing root wrapped around his arm jerking Sarn to the side. He slipped on a puddle of ichor and crashed into another tree as it rushed forward to grapple with the overshadowed ones.
The ghost’s hand solidified around Sarn’s wrist, dragging him between clashing trees as the specter darted between them.
“What’s happening?” This was something out of an old tale from the time of wild magic.
The ghost shook its head and kept flying, charting a course through the monoliths. But no matter how fast they fled, the corruption outpaced them.
Unnatural, shrieked his magic right before it slammed into his stomach, knocking Sarn backward and breaking the ghost’s grip. Let us out!
Sarn landed on his rump wrestling for control of the fire racing under his skin. Around him, enchanted trees winked out releasing clouds of shining motes. They rained down on Sarn, coating his cloak, cowl, and trousers in the clean magic of life until every part of him glowed a pale green verging on white.
The ghost stared part in wonder and part in fear, and so did Sarn.
“I have only one type of magic, and it’s green, not white.” Sarn stared at the silver flames dancing on his palms. Something was wrong with his magic or his eyes.
The ghost boy extended hesitant fingers, twined them in the strange magic and tore free a fistful of shimmering white filaments. They winked out a moment later.
Rubbing his numb hands, Sarn checked for signs of injury, but only a tingling sensation remained where his magic had torn.
The specter drifted closer but halted when Sarn held up a hand.
"Don't touch me. I said I’d help you and I will."
The ghost's shoulders slumped, and its gray face fell into distressed lines.
"Look, I didn't mean—" but Sarn got no further before a branch dripping black ichor pinned him to a boulder.
Everything stopped. Affected and unaffected trees alike stood, rooted to the spot. The infected tree strained. The tip of its branch rested against the hollow of Sarn’s throat, but it could not pierce his skin. The rules governing its existence allowed harm only to those who broke its three rules, and he hadn’t.
Relieved, Sarn brushed the branch away. On contact, white light leaped from his hand cleansing the infection and chased out the darkness.
“What’s happening to them, has something to do with what happened to you, doesn’t it?”
The ghost nodded and tugged Sarn to his feet.
At least the basic rules were still in play, but it was a small comfort. There was no rule protecting travelers from accidents. Those infected trees could still hurt him just not directly.
A glowing branch pulled Sarn behind several Shayarin oaks intent on battling the dark trees.
“I can drive out the darkness.”
More enchanted trees formed up ignoring his offer. Their branches pointed, urging Sarn to run. When his magic stayed quiet, he understood.
“Curing them won’t solve the problem.”
The ghost boy shook its head and tugged, determined to tow Sarn away from there.
Spinning on his heel, Sarn ran with the frightened ghost clinging to his arm. He required no more prodding. He had to reach his son before the corruption did.
Chapter 8
“I’ll kill him.” Ranispara punched her fist into her open palm.
“You’re sure?” Inari shaded her eyes and scanned the horizon. “Or is it all talk?”
“I’ll kill him. I swear it. The son of a bitch deserves it for what he did to Sarn.” Ranispara shifted her weight causing the water-smoothed stones to slide around under her boots.
No moon rose as evening fell, leaving the tide to ebb and flow in a peaceful rhythm veiled by shadows. Refusing to be soothed, Ranispara kicked the wave curling ashore, interrupting it. She hugged her anger to her, coiling it around herself so she could sic it on Gregori the instant the big lug set foot ashore.
“I can’t believe he’d do something like this. I thought the last time was it, and there wouldn’t be any more of this insanity.” Ranispara kicked a stone sending it clattering down the gentle slope into the river. Bending, she seized several more intent on throwing them too.
“We all thought so.”
Inari’s comment dragged Ranispara around to face her friend. She dropped her ammunition, and they thudded onto the rocky beach.
Before marrying Nolo, Inari had hunted the enchanted forest to feed her family. She'd traveled most of Shayari with tinkers and tradesmen. Meanwhile, Ranispara had never left Mount Eredren’s environs. Hell, she'd never even visited Racine twenty miles downriver. So Inari might be only a year older than her, but the woman had far more life experience.
“How could he do such a thing? Doesn’t it bother him? It must bother him even if it’s only a little. I mean, after all, Sarn’s been through—” Ranispara pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. But the image had burned itself into her retinas.
A man with a bloody knife and the saddest eyes she had ever seen had crouched over an unconscious boy. Blood had wept from a gash running the length of Sarn's face. And his dark hair had haloed his head pillowed on the pitted stone. One arm and one leg had lain twisted at unusual angles to his body.
Ranispara rubbed her eyes and let her hands drop. Darkness spread its hands in the east readying itself to grab the river valley and plunge it into night. Not a single bird took wing. No one loitered about either save her, Inari and a few others who had business with the harbormaster. The flat ribbon of the River Nirthal reflected the empty sky oppressing her, and she shivered despite the May afternoon's warmth.
Inari squeezed her friend’s shoulder. Her dark eyes gave no hint of whether the image tormented her too. It must; the saint had nursed Sarn back to health. Seeing him day in and day out struggling with the most menial tasks must have broken her heart. Thinking about the incident rung tears from Ranispara’s eyes.
“He’ll be alright. He can fend for himself.”
“Did you tell Nolo that?”
“Of course.”
“How did he take it?”
“Not well as you can imagine.”
Silence fell, and not even the river dared to break it. Ranispara kept her thoughts to herself and her eyes on the river.
“Something’s coming—something big,” shouted Nerule, Inari and Nolo’s eight-year-old son. He lay on his belly on the roof of the harbormaster’s abode with a spyglass pressed to one eye.
“Let me see!”
“No, me! I want to see too.”
Before the squabbling intensified and someone fell off the roof, Ranispara whistled. Her nephews let go of the spyglass and covered their ears.
“Enough, everyone will get a turn.”
Inari glanced at her son. But before she could utter a word, Nerule handed the spyglass to Jorey, who sat to his right. Inari nodded, a half-smile quirking her lips in approval.
“It’s a ship,” Jorey announced then handed the spyglass to his brother.
Ranispara regarded her nephews. Both boys knew better than to indulge in any more roughhousing. She turned on her heel and stalked toward the dock to confront the inbound vessel. Gregori would be aboard. It was time the culprit returned.
“You think he’s on that ship?” Inari stirred but checked the impulse. Someone had to stay put and keep an eye on the boys.
“Oh, I know he is. He’ll get back here quick as he can to see our reaction. You can bet on it.”
“Where are you going?”
Ranispara didn’t answer.
Gregori stepped off the gangplank, and Ranispara slammed her shoulder into his side, knocking him off balance. Locking her arms around his waist, she threw all her weight against him, and he toppled into the river.
Ranispara sent the absent Sarn a thank you for teaching her stealth. The Kid's sixth sense compensated for partial deafness in one ear, making it tough to sneak up on him. But it was still possible with a little practice, and the 'practice' had turned into a game. One the Kid had enjoyed because it gave him something to do and a challenge to overcome. Having his mobility impaired by casts and crutches had added an extra layer of fun to the game.
Curse Breaker_Enchanted [The More Epic Version] Page 9