Curse Breaker_Enchanted [The More Epic Version]

by Melinda Kucsera

  Nolo raised both hands making it clear he’d come in peace. His dark eyes performed a head to toe scan.

  What did the man see—a deer in lumir light? Why now did he look? Why not then when he’d needed to be seen and rescued? Sarn shook off his surprise. Death’s Marksman had a unique aura—one Nolo donned at will. Which explained why Sarn’s sixth sense had issued no warning.

  “Are you alright?” Nolo asked. His glance must not have reassured him. Damn.

  Sarn held up a hand palm out. “I won’t go to the infirmary.”

  “I figured. You never want to go there.” Nolo crossed his arms over his chest and concern painted his black face.

  Sarn gave his laces one last jerk. “Thank your wife for the muffins.” He handed the basket to Nolo on his way past the man.

  Ignoring the basket, Nolo stepped into his path and blocked the way.

  Sarn looked down at Nolo from his superior height. “Let me pass. Jerlo let me go for the night.”

  “Not until we talk.”

  Sarn spun on his heel and walked away. It was the wrong direction. A fact his head map pointed out, but he ignored the arrow pointing toward his master. The map would reroute him in a moment.

  Nolo followed. The Ranger had a point to make, and the man would remain until he’d said his piece. “What Gregori did was wrong. Ranispara and I had no part in it. Neither did Jerlo.”

  “I know.” Sarn punched the wall. Magic sheathed his fist causing it to bounce off unharmed, so he kicked the wall instead. Magic raced over his toes encasing them in a bubble of protection. But the wall stayed solid this time, and his boot struck it hard enough to produce the desired bang.

  Nolo leaned a shoulder against the wall mere inches from where Sarn had struck it. “Better?”

  Sarn shook his head. “Why did he do it? Did he say what fucked up logic drove him to it?”

  “Language.”

  “I’m not on duty. I can curse if I want to.” Sarn folded his arms under his cloak. But he let them drop when he realized he’d adopted the same pose as Nolo. “Did you come here to apologize for him?”

  Nolo shook his head. “I wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

  Sarn spread his arms wide. “You’ve seen what you needed to see. Now let me go.”

  Nolo nodded and gestured back the way they’d come.

  Sarn left still holding the basket.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  The question stopped Sarn in his tracks. “No, he drugged me and left me.”

  “And the fighting trees? What about them?”

  “They chased me, but I got away. Can I go now?”

  Silence dropped between them pregnant with the m-word. Sarn waited, but Nolo didn’t ask if he’d used magic. Maybe the answer was obvious. What would Nolo do if he admitted it?

  “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow. Say hello to your brother for me.”

  “I will.”

  Knowing a dismissal when he heard one, Sarn fled with his eyes lighting the way, but not the mysteries of the past twenty-four hours. Those were his to resolve when he figured out how.

  Each step sent pain jolting through tired muscles. Running through tunnels abandoned by decent folk, Sarn sneezed as his steps raised clouds of dust. Covering his nose and mouth with a fold of his cloak helped. But his eyes burned until another twist sent him shooting down a staircase, leaving the dust cloud behind. Maybe it would settle out in the right places to obscure some of his prints.

  Sarn let his senses stretch out as his map rushed to the fore, and he almost tripped. Slamming his shoulder into the wall enclosing the stairwell helped him stay upright, so did the map fading to an overlay. Symbols popped up, but they remained clustered in several galleries far from his position. Good, Nolo had stayed behind.

  Taking the stairs three at a time, Sarn sped down the two hundred plus steps to the third level below ground. He exited through a rough hole to a tunnel dog-legging into the Lower Quarters. Slowing, Sarn searched for anyone on an intercept course.

  People symbols occupied the nearby tunnels, but no one appeared to be on a parallel path. Ditto for perpendicular tunnels but the situation would change. Down here dwelt an awful lot of people.

  Thoughts of this place's population switched on the part of his magic obsessed with numbers. An ache blossomed behind his left eye as a counter appeared in the bottom right corner of the map. Before Sarn cut it off, its tally had jumped to a thousand.

  Ahead, a gauntlet of broken stone waited. His cave waited near the other end. Relief energized Sarn as he cleared the last obstacle between him and his son.

  Chapter 12

  Sarn scanned the door for signs of forced entry. Finding no new dents, he crossed one worry off his list. No one had bothered his family during his absence, but something still felt off. He pushed the door, and it opened, catching him off guard. It should be locked.

  Ran popped through the gap. Lit by joy, he smiled and bounced up and down chanting, “You’re back!”

  Sarn throttled back his paranoia. Miren must have unlocked the door at some point and forgotten to relock it. Worry slid off his shoulders staggering him. Sarn leaned against the lintel to collect himself.

  Ran stopped bouncing around, his face darkening with worry.

  “Yes, I’m back.” Sarn ruffled his son’s hair before the boy could say a word returning the smile to his lips.

  A storm cloud rolled in wearing Miren’s face. Sarn bit back a curse at the hurricane brewing in his brother’s eyes, but it was too late. The words were already out of his mouth. “Why was the door unlocked?”

  Miren ignored his question. “Where have you been?”

  “Running,” Sarn said, and his magic allowed it because it was the truth. “Lots of running and I’m tired. Can we talk about this later?” Never would be preferable but Miren would only give him so much leeway.

  “Ad-ven-ture—you promised.” Ran crossed his arms over his chest and regarded Sarn with expectant eyes.

  “Tomorrow before I go back to work.”

  “You promise?”

  Sarn nodded, wondering how he would find the answers he needed and take his son on an outing. Tomorrow he could figure that out. Ran glared until he received a verbal acknowledgment. “I promise.”

  “You’ve been running for twenty-four hours?” Miren clenched his fists.

  “For a good part of it, yes.”

  “And the rest?”

  The rest he refused to discuss. Sarn’s stomach growled. Ran tipped the basket searching it for crumbs.

  “No food?” Ran’s face fell when Sarn shook his head.

  Sarn’s gaze swung to his brother. “Have you eaten?” He needed the answer to be yes. Climbing all those stairs was unappealing right now.

  Ran shook his head. “I’m hungry.”

  “No, we haven’t eaten. We were waiting for you.” Miren brushed past Sarn and slumped onto a three-legged stool. The disgruntled teen slammed around the books littering the table.

  Why had his brother returned from class without grabbing something to eat? Even juggling his crutch and schoolbooks, he could have grabbed something for Ran. Every day, the brat passed the middle kitchen on his way to and from school.

  Aren’t you overreacting a tad, asked his conscience. Maybe he was. It was so hard not to since he’d raised Miren.

  Sarn set the basket inside their cave before his son could climb into it. “Then I’d better get us something to eat.” And calm down. Sarn stalked away, Ran at his heels.

  “Wait—shouldn’t he stay here?” Miren asked from inside the cave.

  Ran’s chin firmed, and he shook his head. Standing on tiptoe, he grasped Sarn’s hand. No more separation, the boy’s eyes begged. But aloud Ran said, “I go with you.”

  Sarn nodded.

  Ran’s shoulders sagged in relief, and a tentative smile played at the corners of his lips.

  “Sarn?”

  �
��It’s okay. He can come with me.” Sarn squeezed his son’s hand. Thank Fate he had planned for such eventualities. Paranoia had its benefits.

  The instant they turned a bend, Ran launched into a full report of all his doings. Sarn half-listened until a comment caught him flatfooted.

  “You spent the whole day with my brother?”

  Ran nodded. “He wouldn’t play with me.”

  Hearing the tap-scrape-tap of his brother’s crutch-assisted gait, Sarn turned. His glare fell full force on Miren. “Why didn’t you go to school?”

  He’d traded his freedom for his brother’s education, and Miren had blown it off as if it meant nothing. Sarn's blood boiled. Everything he’d been through in the last twenty-four bells had been to pay for Miren’s schooling. This wasn’t even the first time this month Miren had skipped school.

  Maybe I should have sent myself to school.

  No, Sarn told the regret pricking his heart. Miren is the smart one, the normal one, the one with a shot at future. Miren deserves the finest education I can provide.

  “And who’d have watched him if I had?” Anger sparked in Miren’s eyes as the teen gestured to Ran.

  Ran pointed to his chest, his little face clouding with confusion.

  “The Foundlings—I have a deal with them. Did they refuse?” Oh, if they had, they could kiss regular meals goodbye.

  “Ow,” Ran said reminding Sarn to loosen his grip. None of this was his son’s fault.

  “Sorry,” he said, but he held onto his son’s hand.

  “No, I didn’t ask them.” Miren sagged and leaned on his one crutch. “You were gone, and I thought you’d be back soon. So, I put off going. When you didn’t return, I was so worried.” Miren’s mud-colored eyes begged Sarn to understand.

  “You should have gone. School is important. It’ll lift you out of here.” Sarn gestured to the dank tunnel around them. So you don’t end up broken and Indentured like me.

  Miren fixed his gaze on his boots and his opinion broadcast itself through his defeated posture. The teenager had screwed up, and he knew it.

  Sarn looked away. If only Miren would take this whole school thing seriously. Maybe he was too hard on his brother. The line between parent and sibling was blurred by time and care. Sarn scrubbed a hand over his face to wipe away the frustration eating him. When had their relationship become so emotionally charged? Was that my doing?

  “I appreciate you watching my son, but next time, please go to school instead.”

  Miren nodded.

  “I’m hungry,” Ran announced.

  Right, he'd been in the middle of fetching food before the revelation and the soul searching. “I’m working on it,” Sarn said as he continued, his pensive son at his side.

  Miren limped along bringing up the rear. “Where are we going?”

  Ran looked up at Sarn with curious green eyes, not impatience. Good, neither the walk nor the delay had done his son any harm.

  “Does this walk have a destination?”

  “Yes, food,” Ran replied. The imp cast a glance over his shoulder at his uncle to catch his reaction then faced forward again, smiling.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Sarn nodded. “Yeah, me too. I’m sorry I’m not here much and that I’m a terrible brother, but I need you to trust me. I only want what’s best for you.”

  Miren fell silent.

  Around the next bend, Sarn halted at a rock pile and started hauling stones out of the way. The instant he’d cleared a child-sized cleft, Ran shot through it.

  “Make light Papa, so I can see.”

  “Ran, come out. There are heavy things in there that could hurt you if they fall.” Sarn reached through the gap, and his fingertips brushed his son’s shoulder.

  Ran dodged and kept poking about the dark cave. After making one more grab for his son, Sarn gave up and resumed hauling pumpkin-sized rocks out of the way.

  “What is this place?” Miren asked.

  “Storage,” Sarn grunted as he lifted a boulder half his size.

  “Papa make light. I can’t see.”

  “Come out, and you’ll have plenty of light.”

  “No, I want to help.”

  Sarn reached for another boulder but stopped when Ran poked his head out.

  “What’s in here?”

  This time, Sarn grabbed his son before the boy could dodge and removed him from the cave.

  “Give me a minute, and I’ll show you.”

  Judging the hole was wide enough, Sarn reached in and withdrew a jar. He kept his body between the hole and his son as he handed the jar to his brother.

  “What does it say?”

  A flabbergasted Miren read the label. “It just says peaches.”

  “I like peaches.” Smiling, Ran jumped up and down reaching for the jar.

  “Then we’ll have peaches. You like peaches, right?” Sarn shot his brother a look and froze when he saw a new storm brewing in Miren’s eyes. This one looked to be even more severe than the last one he’d weathered. Even Ran stepped away from his uncle.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this place?”

  “It’s not a secret. I thought you knew.”

  Where did this anger originate? So what if he stockpiled a few necessities. Sarn was a paranoid bastard, and everyone knew it. Everyone also depended on him for every damned thing, making this cache a necessity.

  “How long?” Miren glared so hard fire should have shot out of his eyes.

  Not something Sarn wanted to discuss in front of his son. He blinked at the spot a too-quiet Ran had occupied a moment before. Turning, he poked his head into the cave and spotted the boy rounding a ceiling-high stack of jars.

  Sarn followed his son but stopped when Miren caught hold of his sleeve.

  “Damn it, how long has this existed? Answer me.”

  “Since that time I screwed up.”

  The night he’d ended up in the dungeon. Sarn pried his brother’s hand off him. Catching a flash of recognition in Miren’s eyes, he turned his back on his brother. At least the experience had taught him a valuable lesson. He had to look out for his son and his brother because nobody else would.

  “It was after the—incident. Maybe a month before Ran’s first birthday, I don’t know. I did it for him because I couldn’t stand the idea of him starving.”

  So Sarn had made sure his son would always have enough. Growing up as an orphan had turned his life into a constant struggle for survival—a battle his son would never face.

  “I’m not an idiot,” Sarn added. “I’m not irresponsible. I’m not reckless damn it! I’m not—”

  Her accusations looped through his head on a constant spin cycle. Ran’s mother had called him all those things and more. Worse still, the Rangers believed he was all those things because of one night’s stupidity over three years ago. Well, he’d prove them all wrong.

  Sarn took a swing at the stonewall but froze when emerald lightning streaked across his knuckles. Staring at evidence of his freakishness did nothing to soothe his anger or silence her voice in his head. Sarn spotted his son exiting the cave and lowered his fist.

  “I know. Okay?” Miren jabbed his thumb into his chest as he pontificated. “This is me, your brother. I’m alive right now because of you.”

  Sarn nodded. “You’re the sum of all the good decisions I’ve made over the last eleven years.”

  Miren’s mouth opened and closed a few times as he accepted that stunner.

  “I’m sorry if I haven’t said so more often. I am so proud of you and what you’ve accomplished.”

  “You are?”

  “Me too!” Ran raised his hand.

  Miren blinked away tears and patted Ran on the head. “Thanks, but getting back to my point because it needs to be said—irresponsible people don’t indenture themselves on another’s behalf. Hell, no one except you would even think of doing that. And while we’re on this subject, Beku said those
horrible things. I didn’t. And where is she now? She’s gone, and I’m not.”

  “Mama’s gone,” Ran repeated in a forlorn voice.

  “You’ve still got my brother and me.” Sarn ruffled his son’s hair and earned a nod and a twitch of his son's lips but no smile. He’d get one when they ate those peaches.

  “Don’t you trust me?”

  Miren’s question walloped Sarn, and he reeled for a second uncertain he’d heard right.

  “Of course, I trust you. You’re my brother. I raised you.”

  “Then why do all this?” Miren gestured to the black slash of the cave behind Sarn. “Why not hide the food in our cave? We’ve lived there on and off for three years. You had plenty of time to move it. Why didn’t you?”

  Sarn opened his mouth to reply, but no answer came other than the absolute truth. Their cave was vulnerable. But he closed his mouth instead of admitting it and scaring them. “Because it’s my responsibility and I’d be shirking it if I didn’t have a backup plan.”

  Sarn met Miren’s gaze, but his brother looked away. After a tense moment, Miren nodded. Maybe the troubled teen understood. Sarn seized another jar and handed it to Miren for identification.

  “Stew,” Miren shrugged. “It doesn’t say what kind.”

  Snagging a bag of hard biscuits known as waybread, Sarn surveyed the stacked jars. In the end, he settled on the mysterious stew, the promised peaches, and five jars with smeared labels. They looked old, and he needed to check their edibility. Ran insisted on lugging the peaches back to their cave, and he let the boy carry it, snug in his little arms.

  Guilt sent Sarn back to pick up more jars. Over Miren’s objections, he left those extra jars outside the Foundlings’ door. After knocking, he bolted a hundred feet and one bend to his door. He’d suffered through enough drama for one night. He refused to deal with anymore, but life wasn’t through screwing with him yet. A pair of beady eyes watched him from a shadowed alcove.

  “Oh, it’s red. I like red.”

  “Don’t touch it. It’s hot.”

  “Why’s it hot?” Ran asked.

  Sarn picked his son up and set him down away from the makeshift fire pit. “Red lumir makes more heat than light.”