His Cure For Magic (Book 2)

by M. R. Forbes

  They both bent their knees and held their blades level with their chest. They circled one another slowly, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

  "Where is she, Talon?" Clau asked. "Where is Eryn?"

  He smiled. "Safe."

  Their blades met, their strikes coming at the same time and meeting in the center. Metal rang out against metal, and blue sparks ignited against the point of contact. They struck at one another a few more times and backed away.

  "I heard three horses," Silas said, glancing over Clau's shoulder.

  "I brought three Mediators to help me manage Eryn. I could have them strike you down where you stand, ircidium blade or no, but you deserve better than that."

  Silas took two quick steps in and struck again, first a high cut at Clau's head, and then a strike at his feet. He blocked both and returned the favor, making two heavy slashes at Silas' midsection.

  They backed away again.

  "You're tired, Talon, and I can see your wound. You can't defeat me."

  Silas didn't respond. Clau was right, and he knew it. His arm was throbbing, and his body was complaining with every motion. He didn't need to win, though. He only needed to keep them away from Eryn. He came in again, putting less power behind his strikes, using them only to distract and force Clau to block them. The ripostes came fast and furious, and he struggled to get his blade up to meet them in time, backing away as he did. The action drew Clau into the fight in earnest, bringing him to think the battle was already won, and giving Silas the opportunity to begin leading him away.

  Metal struck metal, sparks flaring in the space around them. The light over their heads bobbed and followed as they backed through the wood, dancing in a rough pattern that continued to move them to the north. Silas kept his offense weak, conserving his energy to deflect Clau's blows, working hard to keep him occupied for as long as possible. He was sure they would head south once he was dead, leaving Eryn safely under the boulder. He could only hope Saretta would manage to avoid them as well.

  The battle continued, sword ringing out against sword and echoing in the night, the two opponents sweating and breathing heavily, their original energy fading and being replaced with a dulled rhythm of thrust and parry, strike and block. Silas was tired and wounded, but he was the superior swordsman, and by conserving himself for the defense he was managing to wear Clau down.

  He didn't realize they had reached the river until he had taken a step into it, feeling the coldness of it shock his skin. He was almost defeated then, barely managing to knock aside Clau's blade and get his knife from his belt before he backhanded him with the secondary edge. The blow wrenched the knife from his hand, sending it splashing into the water.

  "There's nowhere else to go, Talon," Clau said. He faked a strike to Silas' left, then redirected. Silas was ready for the maneuver, and he blocked the incoming sword. It was the move Clau had been anticipating. His free hand threw a heavy fist into Silas' face.

  The blow almost knocked him into the water. He heard the crack of his jaw breaking, a sudden pain pulsing through his body. He got his blade up in time to block one more cut, but then Clau grabbed it away from him, leaving him bloody, unarmed and in his grasp.

  "I'll kill her quickly, Talon," he said. "I promise you that."

  Silas knew he should have been afraid, or angry. Standing there, defeated, he felt nothing but calm. Even as Clau's sword drove into him, piercing his chest, he was relaxed.

  "I'm sorry, brother," Clau said.

  Silas looked him in the eyes. "I'm sorry, too."

  With the last of his energy he put one hand on top of Clau's, holding it against the hilt of the sword. He put his other hand on the General's shoulder, and used the leverage to pull the two of them together. The smaller blade jabbed into the General's chest, piercing his armor, tearing into his skin and hooking between his ribs.

  Clau's eyes widened in surprise, and he used his free hand to punch Silas in the face again, and again, but it was no use.

  Silas smiled the smile of a man victorious. Then he threw himself backwards, taking both of them into the deeper water.

  Survive, Eryn. Survive and fight. Go to the Dark. Learn what he doesn't want you to know. I will always love you. Alyssa, I will find you, wherever you are.

  He felt the cold seep through his clothes to his skin. He felt the water make its way into every opening of his body, filling his nose and pouring into his mouth. He felt his lungs burn, his heart stop.

  Still, he was calm.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Eryn

  "Wilem, hurry."

  Eryn kept her eyes closed, her thoughts focused only on Silas. She could hear the sound of blade against blade, and her heart raced in rhythm to the combat. Wilem had said he was here with a General, likely another of Silas' contemporaries. If Silas were healthy she wouldn't have been so concerned, but she knew he was tired and wounded, and that put him at a huge disadvantage in the fight.

  Every second was a labor, her intense emotion the only thing keeping her conscious. Her position slumped over the back of the stallion behind Wilem was sparing her body some effort, but she didn't know if she would be able to lift herself up to fight, let alone somehow defeat Kelkin and take possession of the cure.

  She knew she was going to die without it. Die, or worse. The throbbing in her thigh had continued, but now it was spreading along the entire upper part of her leg, leaving it burning and itching. She also felt like her mind was suffering along with it, her thoughts beginning to form more slowly. She hoped that was only a symptom of her exhaustion.

  "Shhh. We're almost there. I hope you're right about this."

  She had been surprised to learn that Wilem was a Mediator. She had been surprised to have overcome him so easily. She was even more surprised to find out that he too had been tricked and lied to. They had brought him out here to die. She could understand why he felt angry and betrayed. Still, he had agreed to help her with hardly any hesitation. Was that because of his anger, or his heart?

  "Wilem?"

  She heard the older Mediator's voice as Strider slowed to a stop.

  "I have her," he said.

  She could see the glow of light through her eyelids.

  "Alive?" Someone asked. A woman. Wilem had said her name was Talia.

  "I thought Clau might want to question her."

  "Remarkable," Kelkin said. "I didn't think you had it in you, boy."

  Eryn could feel Wilem shaking, bristling at the remark. His hand shifted back to the saddle, his fingers finding the strap that held her wand. "I think the rumors may have blown her ability far out of proportion. It was barely a challenge," he replied. "Why aren't you helping General Clau?"

  "He ordered us to wait here. I suspect it will be over soon. Morningstar looked like a limp rat before the fight even started."

  "It's over then," Wilem said. "The Liar dead, his Whore on the back of my horse. I suppose you get to retire early, Master Kelkin."

  The older Mediator was silent. Wilem's fingers slowly manipulated the strap, loosening it so that Eryn could reach it without trouble. Once he was done, his hand moved to a second strap that held her sword.

  She heard the sound of hooves, and felt the breath of a horse on her face.

  "She's younger than I expected," Talia said. "Barely more than a child."

  "Let me see her," Kelkin said.

  Eryn heard rustling, the Mediator dismounting and approaching on foot.

  His fingers finished with the second strap at the same time Eryn felt a warm hand on her chin, lifting her face towards the sky. She heard Kelkin gasp.

  "Wilem..."

  "I know," Wilem said. He kicked Kelkin in the face.

  They'd needed to get close, because Eryn knew they'd only have seconds. She felt the tingle run down her spine. She thought of Silas somewhere out there, fighting a fight he couldn't win. She thought of Ames and Lance, and of how he forced brothers to become bitter enemies, and young girls to become kil
lers.

  She was sure that Kelkin could have created a distortion field, if he had been prepared. Instead, he was left off-balance, clutching at his face. Wilem couldn't make the field, but he was ready, and he joined in hers.

  Everything around them stopped for a few brief seconds. The field took so much energy to hold, and she had little enough to spare. She rolled off the horse, sword in hand, stumbling towards the older Mediator at the same time her knife sprouted from Talia's chest. She was thankful the ircidium was so light when she lifted it and jabbed it into Kelkin's back.

  She fell over. Time regained itself.

  Both Talia and Kelkin were screaming. She felt a wave of cold above her. Wilem had used her wand to attack them.

  The screaming stopped.

  Every ounce of her being wanted to drop. Every inch of skin burned and itched in horrible agony. She writhed on the ground, shaking and convulsing, refusing to fall unconscious. She had to reach Silas. She had to save him.

  She looked at her hand. It was curled and tight, the skin turning gray. Her fingers didn't look real to her. They looked like they belonged to something else, on something else. What was happening? What had she done?

  The sound of swords dancing in the night vanished.

  There was nothing but silence.

  There was nothing but darkness.

  II. Darkness

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Eryn

  Eryn opened her eyes. It was bright. So bright.

  She closed them again.

  She could hear the wind rustling through trees, and the sound of water running over stones. She could feel the crispness of the air, and smell the dampness of the morning.

  Silas.

  Her eyes opened again, and she forced herself into a sitting position. Her head pounded and every muscle ached. It was morning. She was next to a narrow river. It must have been the Wash.

  "You're awake," Wilem said. His voice boomed in her ears, and she winced. He knelt down in front of her.

  "Silas?" she asked. It was morning. Hours had passed. Where was he?

  The answer was in Wilem's eyes.

  "No," she said. She struggled against her tears.

  "I found this laying halfway in the river." He leaned back and picked something up.

  Silas' sword.

  The tears came.

  "I don't know what happened," Wilem said while she cried. She could tell he wanted to comfort her, but she didn't want that.

  She wanted Silas.

  "I left you back with Kelkin and Talia. You were unconscious. The fighting stopped, so I ducked out of sight and waited for Clau. I was ready to attack him. He never showed. I followed their trail here, but there was no sign of either of them. The water was red with blood. I think they killed each other."

  She stopped sobbing at looked at him. "You didn't find his body?"

  Wilem put his hands up. "Eryn, the water was red. No man can survive that much blood loss."

  "He could be alive. Washed downstream." She shifted onto her feet and tried to pull herself up. Her head began to spin, and she had to crouch back down.

  Wilem was shaking his head. "The falls are only a half-mile or so downstream. If he were unconscious when he was pulled over them, he would have died when he hit the bottom."

  She didn't want to believe it, but wishing for something to not be so didn't make it not so. He was gone. She was alone. Again.

  She reached out and took his sword by the hilt. "I promised my family I would survive. I will shed more tears for you, grandfather, but not today." She swallowed the pain, tucking it into her chest and holding it. She would add that pain to the fuel for her anger, and that anger would be the end of him.

  Amman, hold him gently in your arms, and bless him with the peace that he never knew in life.

  "Grandfather?" Wilem asked.

  She ignored his question. "Where is your horse?"

  "Eryn, you're in no condition to ride. You can-"

  "Where is your horse?" She needed to find Davin's hiding place. Silas would want her to continue to the Dark, and not waste time mourning him.

  Wilem held out his hand. "Here, I'll help you."

  She took it, and he pulled her up. His arms wrapped around her waist when she started to topple again. She let him hold her against his chest while everything stopped turning, and then she pulled away. "Soldiers?"

  "Not this far south," he said. "I could see their torches during the night, heading for the mines."

  "We need to cross the river and follow the bank." She walked over to Strider, still struggling to find her balance.

  "Where are we going?"

  "You'll see when we get there."

  "You don't trust me?"

  She put her hand on Strider's flank, steadying herself before she tried to mount. Wilem had killed his master and his mentor to save her life. He had protected her while she was unconscious. "I do trust you. Come on."

  Wilem followed behind her. When she hopped up to get her foot in the stirrup, he grabbed her waist and helped lift her. She got her legs over and the Mediator brought himself up behind.

  "Let's go, Strider," he said, patting the stallion's side. Eryn leaned over and took the reins, and the horse headed towards the water.

  Eryn stared down its length while they crossed it, searching for Silas, though she knew he wouldn't be there. He wasn't supposed to fall. He wasn't supposed to die.

  How am I going to do this without you?

  She felt Wilem's breath against the back of her head. Even in her grief, she found a measure of comfort. Wilem was a Mediator. Not only did he have the Curse, but he had been trained in it. He could teach her things that Silas would never have been able to.

  She hoped it would be enough.

  ###

  "How are you feeling?" Wilem asked.

  They had been riding for almost two hours, following along the Wash as it gently meandered its way south. Eryn was keeping a lookout to the trees they passed beneath, searching for the owl that Saretta had promised them.

  "Better every minute." She twisted so she could look back at him, putting their faces only inches away. Wilem's began to turn red. "How does it work?"

  "How does what work?"

  "The cure for magic."

  Wilem smiled. "You keep calling it 'magic'. Why?"

  "That's what my father, my birth father, called it. He said it was a disease that will first weaken you, and then kill you, unless you have the cure." She looked down at her hand, remembering how it had been gray and distorted before she had blacked out. "You must have given it to me, or I would have died."

  "I did, though I wasn't sure it was going to help you. I've never heard it called a disease before. They teach us that when we use the Curse, our life force drains with the blood that runs from our eyes. Over time we grow weak."

  "What do they tell you the Curse is?"

  "A fault in our design. That we were made wrong, but that we can turn the weakness into a strength for the Empire. We don't hunt the Cursed because we are monsters. We hunt the Cursed to protect them from themselves, and to protect others from them. My teachers told many stories of unreported Cursed destroying entire villages, and killing hundreds of people."

  "Are you sure they weren't talking about themselves?"

  He was silent for a moment. "Not any more. My family is from Edgewater. It is where the Cursed are brought to train as Mediators. My father... My real father is a carpenter. When I told him I was Cursed, he called them right away. I never considered running."

  "Then why did you help me? Why are you here? Why do you believe in me?"

  "The 'cure' as you call it, is no cure at all. When we are brought to the Academy at Edgewater, the first thing they do is stick us with a thin rod of ircidium that is hollow in the center. It is attached to a glass tube, similar to the vials in the box." He leaned over and patted the saddlebag where he had placed the remaining refined blood. "They pull our blood out. We are then sent to our quarters to re
st. We must remain there for a week or more until the Carriers return."

  "Carriers?"

  "They are soldiers in the Empire. Special soldiers. They wear ircidium armor that covers them from head to toe, including their faces. They ride horses plated in ircidium. Their job is to bring the blood that was taken to be refined."

  Eryn shook her head. So little of what Wilem was saying made any sense to her. "Refined?"

  "There is a place called the Refinery. I don't know where it is. No one knows except for the Carriers. They bring our blood there. Something is done to it, and then it is returned. The ranking officer or Mediator is in charge of holding our refined blood, for use when we become weak from the Curse. It is injected back into our bodies through the use of the ircidium rod, and our health is restored."

  Eryn looked at her hand again. "You mean to say you put someone else's blood into me?"

  "Yes. Talia's blood. I wasn't sure it would help you, since it was hers and not yours, but you are both female, so I was hopeful."

  Eryn licked her lips and closed her eyes. She was stronger and healthier, and the scaliness on her skin was gone, but otherwise she didn't feel any different. Had Aren known anything about this?

  "What I was trying to tell you is that I asked Kelkin why we don't collect the blood of the Cursed and bring it to the Refinery."

  "What did he say?"

  "He said it wasn't that easy. I don't know what that means, but considering he was poisoning me, he was probably trying to keep me from the truth. That is why I believe in you, Eryn. From the moment we met you haven't hidden anything from me."

  She couldn't help but laugh. "I lied to you about everything."

  "Not your name," he said. "Where you were from, what you were doing in Varrow, yes. Maybe some of the stories you told of your childhood."

  "Those were as true as I could make them."

  "You never hid your feelings. Your excitement about being in the forest with your brother. The love you felt for Silas." He paused, giving her time to absorb the statement. "The fact that you aren't attracted to me."