“I don’t need your help. What I want most is within my grasp.”
In fact, it was getting away, but that was a minor detail. A child could follow the path of destruction those Seekers left in their wake. But getting that crystal from them would be harder than she’d thought. It liked to eat magic, and she was made of magic.
But I just need it for less than a minute if I can steer those psychos to the right cave. Surely her mirror-inlaid poncho would protect her for the minute it would take to dash out of range. What if I'm wrong?
Snake Woman shook her head. I'll take that chance rather than encumber myself with another obligation.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes, find another ear to whisper in. I need to do this myself.”
She needed to prove she was an independent entity, and no longer the creature the demon Vail had created. Her claws dug into her palms leaving dents but no wounds because she was not flesh and blood. She shook out her fists and flexed her fingers.
Maybe he understood. Maybe he too was a contrivance pretending to a humanity he’d never owned. Or maybe the black lumir crystal’s presence was addling her mind.
The Adversary gave her a one-shouldered shrug. “Have it your way. If you change your mind, call me.”
He vanished, and an object dropped to the ground. The white game piece compelled her to pick it up. She ran her thumb over the groove delineating the horse’s head from its neck. It was the knight piece, but she felt more like a pawn now. Damn him for that.
“What game are you playing?” she asked the space the Adversary had occupied, but he didn’t answer.
The chess piece warmed as the black lumir crystal’s influence rolled over her, muting its draining effect. Strength flowed into her, energizing her tired muscles. For the first time since she'd met up with these fanatics, Snake Woman felt like herself. But at what cost? Did I just accept his bargain by accepting his gift?
The Devil’s in the Details
As Snake Woman crept toward that crazy cleric and her acolytes, the Adversary disengaged from the wraith formerly known as Dirk. If that snaky construct did even half of what she intended, she’d further his plans.
But there was still a chance she’d screw up even though she’d accepted his gift, so he left a shadow of himself crouched in the back of Dirk’s mind. After all, Dirk had proven he was expendable, and no creation was truly trustworthy away from its master. Through his shadow-self, he could take control of his servant when the time was right.
Snake Woman would accept his offer in the end. No one could refuse him for long not when accepting would prolong her life. Her sense of self-preservation will win her to my side. It's inevitable. And I'll be on hand to strike that bargain the moment she realizes that.
The Adversary turned his thoughts back to Mount Eredren where he'd left his latest simulacrum, but he didn't return to it. He couldn't execute the next stage of his plans until Aralore turned away from Mount Eredren and took her black lumir crystal elsewhere. I need more wraiths on this plane of existence. Why couldn't you have five friends instead of four, Dirk? The Adversary shook his head as his vulture-winged creation circled a crude litter.
Aside from the extra-long wings, Dirk was still man-shaped. Shadows veiled his old face giving him the anonymous appearance all wraiths bore. But even he looked better made than that litter. It was hastily lashed together from dead branches stripped of their enchantments as if that could offer its bearers any protection.
Stupid mortals, you're so quick to trust in material things.
Like that white box bursting at its seems—it perched on the Seekers' swaying platform. Inside it, a black lumir crystal sucked in all magic within its reach, but that reach kept expanding both on the Mortal Plane and no doubt beyond it. That was a concern. How long before it could reach into the immaterial realms and steal their power?
Only God knew what that vile crystal did with the magic it ate. Not even the Adversary could peer into its black heart. It was another damned blind spot courtesy of his long-ago Fall. Perhaps that's why that black gem bothered him so much—it reminded him of what he’d lost. I was the Morning Star, first-among-angels, a warrior-prince in the ranks of the Almighty.
Before the war in heaven, he'd kept the secrets of the universe. But the One King had stripped him of those secrets before tossing him into a lake of fire and abandoning him there to complete his transformation into the Adversary.
But only fools acted in ignorance when all signs, or in this case crystals, pointed to caution. I was a fool for God once, but no longer. Better to be the spider spinning the web than the fly caught in it. Because that's what he was now, a weaver of lies and seducer of mortals. Traps within traps, that's what that crystal was, but who would it trap?
The black lumir crystal in the cleric’s keeping wasn’t behaving like its brethren in the pit under Mount Eredren. What was different about it? This one was swollen with power and still pulling in more through the cracks in the containment field worked into the box partially enclosing it.
The next expansion wave would free the stone and the hungry void within it—if that's what it even was. He felt the forces of chaos gathering around that crystal. All eleven orange-robed fanatics had to carry it because each time that stone expanded, its mass increased. Their flimsy litter couldn't shield them from that crystal’s magic-nullifying effects. They must be feeling it, but they showed no outward sign of it to his servant watching them from far above.
Black beams swept out of that growing gap between box and lid and slammed into the enchanted trees standing boldly in the Seekers’ path. They shriveled up and fell, adding more gray lifeless husks to the ones already littering the magic-less area for at least a mile around them.
“Dust to dust, all that rises, rots,” the Adversary said, wondering where the Queen of All Trees was. Why aren’t you saving your precious forest, Queenie?
“Are those your orders?” asked his wraith.
“No, just an observation. Widen your circuit. I don't want you caught up in that.”
The Adversary waved to the darkening cone of the twister vacuuming up the magic in this area. None of the Seekers could see it, nor would they care if they could. Is that what you’re doing, Queenie? Watching the destruction of your forest from a safe distance? Perhaps she wasn't as indestructible as she'd claimed.
“Where are you really, Queenie? Why aren't you stopping this?”
Because she was supposed to. That had been the whole point of handing that black gem to Aralore. The cleric’s narrow-mind combined with her hatred for all things magical had made that clash inevitable. All I did was even the odds for that girl.
But the Queen of All Trees hadn’t taken the bait. That powerful psychopomp was still out there, and she had the power to liberate the souls he’d captured.
“What are you planning, Queenie? What could be more important than saving your precious trees?”
Not her mageling or she’d be here protecting him from my influence. Perhaps she still thinks he’s hidden from my eyes. I can't wait to see her reaction when she finds out I have my claws in him and soon, his son, too. What else was worth protecting in this country?
“I’ll find her, Master.”
“Don't bother. I need your eyes on that priestess and that snake creature. Report to me if they do anything interesting.”
It was time to withdraw and put another plan into motion before the Queen of All Trees bestirred herself. She had a nasty habit of appearing at the turn of the tide. And when she does, I'll have a surprise waiting for her.
“You have your orders.”
“Yes, sir,” Dirk replied.
The Adversary grimaced. Blind obedience had its drawbacks, but there hadn’t been time to fashion a proper soldier, nor had that changed. The celestial clock was ticking down, and the window for cracking open his prison was dwindling as well.
Good thing, he was naught but a spirit. Traversing the intervening miles, which were few
er than the Adversary would have liked, took only a moment since he knew exactly where he needed to be.
When the Adversary opened his eyes, he regarded a ball of energy about thirteen feet in diameter. It slowly revolved at the upper limits of a mile-wide cavern. The soulcatcher anchored that glowing ball to the bottom of a pit that was roughly half the cavern’s width. Working with a physical focus had its drawbacks, but there hadn’t been any other choice except that mottled black-and-white chunk of lumir crystal. The soul trap was anchored to a closed system that didn't emit any magic at all. The imprisoned souls powered the trap leaving nothing for the black lumir crystal to latch onto. But that damned fool Dirk didn’t need to throw the soulcatcher into the pit for it to do its job.
And there it’ll stay until I convince a mortal to retrieve it. Which isn’t bloody likely while an unholy cross between a giant squid and a dragon is throwing a temper tantrum down there. I should have kept one of Dirk’s cronies alive long enough to fetch that soulcatcher.
In fact, two of Dirk’s friends were unaccounted for—Ragnes, whom he'd sent to find Gore, and Gore himself. Neither had checked in for quite some time. Cris and what’s-his-name. It was something with a ‘V’—Villain? Village? Villar? Yes, that was it. Villar and Cris guarded the soul-ball, and that was it for Dirk’s cronies. It really was too bad the man didn't have any more friends.
The ravine shuddered, showering rocks into the pit.
“What the hell are you doing down there? You can’t escape. A sacrifice holds you here. Only a willing sacrifice can release you, and you’re not getting one.”
The Ægeldar didn’t respond nor could the Adversary see that damned creature when he hovered over the pit. That yawning opening was perhaps a half mile across, maybe more, and twice as deep. Each time that thing pounded against the steep walls of its deep prison, it triggered a rock slide and widened the ravine.
A black mist crawled out of the pit seeking magic to nullify, but there was none left except that luminous gray sphere hugging the ceiling—his soul trap. And it wouldn’t be here for long, just until the Angel of Death collected the remaining souls he needed. Then, he could break the First Seal.
The Adversary gave the pit another glance. A cyclone twisted in its heart, funneling particles of magic down toward the exposed black lumir crystal, or crystals, below. Since that maelstrom ripped magic into its microscopic components, it was only visible in the magical spectrum and only just. Something down there was negating some of its influence, but that something couldn't block that rock forever.
Maybe it was the Ægeldar or something about this place. After all, the Queen of All Trees had locked both that beast and those magic-stealing rocks inside the pit, and she'd used magic to do it. Though more likely, it was a combination of things that had lined up just so to create the right conditions. Otherwise, she'd have contained Aralore's chunk by now instead of letting that cleric drag a second magic-eating cyclone behind her as she marched south toward Mount Eredren.
The Adversary fumed. He was closer to freedom than ever before. All his pieces were on the board and moving. Some toward their intended goals and some, like the one called Sarn, were fighting against him.
That made the Adversary smile. Well, he’ll come to heel in the end. They always do. No one can holdout against my influence forever. Especially not while your skin bears my mark. It's only a question of time before you break, mageling.
But it never hurt to stack the deck in his favor or apply a little pressure where it was needed. So the Adversary stretched out his thoughts again, and his spectral body dissolved into a cloud of black motes. His mind was a dark anemone extending its shadowy tentacles, and his essence spread with them. They touched off ripples in the minds they passed igniting dark passions and forbidden thoughts, breaking taboos, and urging a knife to slash here, a fist to punch there, and a hand to take—property or life.
It didn’t matter so long as that momentary flash of satisfaction lit up the mind he brushed. His feelers sucked away that tiny triumph because all pleasures were fleeting. Some more than others. What is life but a constant striving to fill the empty places in your soul—and mine?
That’s what the Adversary was—an empty void always hungry for more, always on the make or the take. Where are you mageling?
Down in the pit, another creature also laughed, but not loud enough for its mirth to carry beyond the walls of its prison. Its back was armored in black, bony plates, which the Ægeldar slammed against the walls of its prison widening the cracks.
It rose on its stubby forelegs and tilted its enormous body as much as it was able to with its hindquarters crushed under a rock wall. But it was enough to expose more of the tentacles extruding from its scaly belly. Several dozens of them shoved through the cracks in the walls to search for a sacrifice to free it. But that move also exposed seven matte-black ovoids. Each stood as tall as a person. Six others lay in pieces, and a black mist billowed up from them.
The desiccated bones of the Ægeldar’s mate partially covered their last clutch. Time had decomposed those remains. You always did underestimate the lesser races and their deviousness. At least, you’re still useful.
The Ægeldar gripped the head of its partially fossilized mate with its tentacles and ripped its head off. The rest of its mate's carcass had been buried under tons of rock long ago, and so were the remains of others of their kind. All that remained of their race on this plane were fossilized bones.
Far above, the Adversary’s hooded simulacrum destabilized as that entity’s attention drifted away from it and finally dissolved. The Ægeldar waited another ten minutes until it was certain the Adversary would not return, then it launched the head rim-ward.
It sailed out of view and passed through the invisible chains holding the Ægeldar's body here. After all, the sacrifice that penned the Ægeldar only confined the living, not the remains of the dead since the Queen of All Trees’ mirrored shield was gone.
So good of the Adversary to remove that for me. Just ignore the monster in the pit whose brain is eight times larger than yours while I escape. The Ægeldar’s many sucker-covered arms thrust through another crevasse and felt along the tunnels for the bones of its captors. Their remains anchored the spell holding it hostage, but they were still out of reach.
Meanwhile, the head had landed on the rim and rolled to a stop in a shadowed corner. Neither wraith hovering thirty-feet above paid it any mind as they circled the sphere of soul energy they guarded. One of them carried the seeds of his destruction buried deep in the tattered remains of his twisted soul, and neither he nor his incorporeal master knew.
I might be caged, but my long-extinct jailors left me all the tools I need to create a dystopian paradise with magic’s antithesis. But the Ægeldar had to get that antithesis out of the pit and away from its dampening effect.
This Little Light
Sarn rounded a bend on a tunnel paralleling the collapsed one he’d just left and flattened himself against a wall. Ran was a silent, scared weight in his arms, but he held the boy tight shielding him with his body as wild-eyed, screaming people pushed past. Thank Fate, none were children, or they’d have been trampled in the mob’s mad dash for safety.
“Papa!” Ran cried in alarm. His small hands clutched Sarn’s pendant, letting no light leak out.
“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you. We must wait for them to pass. It’s too dangerous to do anything else.”
“I know, but Papa, they’re still not right.”
“Not right, how?”
Granted, Sarn could only catch occasional glimpses in the crush when a lucky soul passed by sheltering a guttering lantern or a candle burned down to the nub. The Adversary’s summons had caught people of all walks of life and professions mid-activity and moved them to his will. So, some had come with light sources to hand.
The enchanted forest parked on three sides of this mountain fortress enforced its injunction against fire with extreme prejudice but only within its con
fines. Mount Eredren had never expressed a preference nor was it enchanted. So an open flame wasn’t a death sentence under the mountain as it would be out there in the enchanted forest. But the lesser grades of lumir crystals were cheaper and required zero tending, so only the folks who needed a flame to do their work tended to have one. Apparently, there were a lot of people who worked such trades.
“Ran, hold my pendant up.”
“But you said to hide it.”
“I know, but I see lights in the crowd and no one’s fighting over them. Everyone just wants to get away from the Ægeldar. I think it’s safe to reveal it, and I need to see their faces.”
Still not swayed by his reasoning, Ran hesitated. Shadows veiled his pensive face.
“It’ll be okay. Trust me.”
“And if it’s not?”
“I don’t need magic to run far and fast.” Sarn smiled.
No, his Ranger training had seen to that, and he’d enjoyed every minute of it even when they’d blindfolded him and made him run the whole obstacle course again. Of course, he’d never tell either of his masters that.
Ran nodded and relaxed his grip. White light streamed through his fingers lighting the throng, but Sarn shook his head. He couldn’t see what his son saw, and that thought shot a bolt of fear through his heart. Relax, Ran is just a kid, and kids are perceptive. He doesn’t have magical gifts that differ from yours.
Though at the moment, Sarn had no magic at all. And if I don’t get it back, how can I help my son if he inherits my magic? The question froze Sarn as that new and frightening reality sank in.
The golem hadn’t said Ran wouldn’t inherit his power just that the Litherians had broken the link between eye color and magic. Certain conditions must now be met for the power to breed true. And I know nothing about my father. I could have inherited magic from him too.
Curse Breaker: Sundered Page 4