Curse Breaker: Sundered

by Melinda Kucsera

  “Hey, watch where you’re going,” said a familiar voice as Miren bounced off a Ranger and landed on his rear. He wasn’t Sarn, Miren noted with disappointment.

  “Sorry, I didn’t see you.”

  Miren accepted the hand Nolo offered him, and the Ranger pulled him to his feet.

  “Where are you off to in such a hurry, anyway?”

  “Home. I’m tired. It was a long day at school.” Miren resettled his pack and cast a quick glance around.

  Any moment Sarn would round that bend. I’ll warn him when he does. Any minute now, but his brother didn’t appear. Neither did those slithering shadows. Maybe I lost them. This place was a maze. Even if you knew where you were going, you could still get lost quite easily. Unless you were Sarn, who had a built-in map to keep track of his location and progress. So not fair.

  “Who are you looking for? Let me guess—your brother?” Nolo crossed his arms.

  “Yeah, where is he? I need to ask him something.”

  “That’s what I’d like to know. And also, why were you running in the halls? You know it’s against the rules, right? But it’s also just plain good sense to walk not run since there are many obstacles and people sharing these corridors.”

  “What?”

  Was Nolo actually lecturing him? Yes, the Ranger was. Angry words boiled up, but Miren swallowed them. Sarn was responsible for him until he hit the legal age of adulthood. I refuse to get my brother in trouble over this. It’s not worth it.

  Nolo gave him a pointed look. “Why were you running?”

  Miren opened his mouth to reply, but no words escaped. He pointed at the wall of darkness falling on them.

  Nolo turned too late. Shadows flowed over them, all whispering the same thing— ‘descend, descend, descend into the pit.’

  Light shoved them back. Miren glanced down at the white glow shining through his tunic. He gripped the cord around his neck and yanked out the white crystal his brother had given him so long ago, and it cast a pale nimbus around him, silencing that soft chant. Its light drove back the shadows.

  Thank you, brother. Miren ran his thumb over the groove cut into the crystal pulsing in his hand. And all this time, I thought you were just an exotic jewel. I should have known better. Miren shook his head and faced Nolo.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, but the Ranger was frozen with a puzzled look on his face.

  A white cross blazed on Nolo’s forehead, casting soft rays on his chiseled features. He looked like an ancient hero carved from black marble. Beside him stood a figure in a deep hood. It had one clawed hand resting on his shoulder atop the strap for a black quiver.

  Miren backpedaled in alarm unable to tear his gaze from Death’s Marksman. He held a hand up in entreaty, but when he opened his mouth, only nonsense emerged instead of an intelligent plea for his life.

  “I didn’t come for you, young one. Thank you for caring about my Chosen. He’s safe from the Dark One’s influence. He’s twice protected, but you’re not. I’d advise you to find somewhere safe to hunker down until this is all over, but you’re not going to do that, so I won’t bother. Have a care though. A great game is afoot. Don’t become a pawn in it. Stay clear of it for the sake of those you love.”

  Death held up a scythe that gleamed in the reflected crystal light. Its rays lengthened until it resembled a cross. Great feathered wings sprouted from Death’s shoulders like those of the angels in the Holy Book Master Caelion liked to quote during her classes.

  “Go with God, young one, now while you can.”

  Miren didn’t ask any of the questions assailing him. He turned and fled back to the staircase he’d just left. His crystal pendant lit his way.

  Sarn, you’d better be okay, and Ran too. There was only one reason his brother would miss work. And that reason scared Miren. He hobbled faster through the flowing darkness, trusting his pendant to keep him safe.

  Dueling Promises

  Sarn tried to breathe through the pain as the promise he’d sworn to Lord Joranth almost five years ago battled the one he’d made to J.C. They each tugged in different directions, and he was the pawn caught between them.

  No, not a pawn, never that. I made both promises in good faith, and I’ll keep them both. Because his word was all Sarn had.

  Ran shouted something as the shadows crawled up the wall enclosing this endless spiral. Of course, the stairs didn’t go on to infinity. Mount Eredren was tall, but not that tall. It wasn’t even close to the tallest mountain in Shayari. Whispers echoed in the semi-darkness all urging the same thing—'descend, descend, descend to where the monsters dwell.’

  And one particular monster waited—the Adversary. Light flared around Sarn, but it was white, not the familiar green of his magic as Ran yanked on his pendant, nearly strangling him in the process.

  “Hey, be careful with that. Like Bear, I also need to breathe,” Sarn said, echoing his son’s earlier comment. He earned a smile in return, but it faded as swiftly as it had appeared.

  “Sorry,” Ran said, holding the crystal higher. “I’ll be careful, but will they?” Ran inclined his head.

  The shadows waved like river weeds caught in an invisible current. They extruded transparent fronds, and each one reached out, searching for something. Only the shadows from below acted like this. The ones above just lay there obscuring the stairs. Nor could Sarn banish them since his eyes no longer glowed.

  “They’re bad things,” Ran whispered into his shoulder.

  “I know. I think the Adversary sent them.”

  “What do they want?”

  Me, but Sarn wisely kept that comment to himself. Instead, he said aloud, “nothing good,” and hoped the real reason didn't occur to his son.

  Sarn winced as the promise bit down hard on his mind. More than habit compelled him to take those steps three at a time like he did every night, but those shadows followed, growing bolder with each passing moment. Not even the lumir stone set in the wall to light this portion of the stairs could dispel them. They swiped at his ankle just missing it as he charged up the remaining steps. The landing was in sight and so was a welcoming glow spilling through that portal twenty steps above.

  “Go to the light, Papa. They don’t like the light. It hurts them.”

  Sarn nodded. Each step relaxed the promise’s claws, so the pain ebbed a little more as he ascended. After all, the promise wanted to be fulfilled, and it couldn’t be if he was incapacitated.

  “What about J.C.? The bad things came from downstairs. What if he's in big trouble.”

  “We’ll help him later. I can’t right now.”

  Because the promise was a physical force pushing against his back, urging Sarn to move faster into the unknown. He pulled up his map on reflex, but its sharp lines told Sarn nothing he didn’t already know. No magic meant no icons to tell him whether his master was even on this level.

  “Why? Things have changed. Doesn't the other promise know that?”

  “It only cares if I fulfill it, and it won't let me deviate from that unless my master releases me.”

  Even speaking was an effort now because the promise kept trying to take control of his body. It took all his will to clutch his son tightly to his chest and fight back.

  “I think he would understand.”

  Ran rested his head on his shoulder. “Take me to work.”

  “Yes, I should,” the promise said or maybe he had.

  They were bound up in a complex way making it hard for Sarn to tell where he ended, and it began. After all, he’d only been fifteen when he’d sworn that promise, and its daily demands had shaped the man he’d become.

  Sarn tripped when something cold wrapped around his ankle, and he freed a hand from his death grip on his son to catch himself. Ran hung on without magical assistance, and his grimace made it clear he wasn’t enjoying that.

  Excellent balance along with a painful collision between his knee and a step saved Sarn from a nasty spill. Those shadows lashed out and this time, they c
aught his ankle before he could push one-handed to a stand. Ran escaped his hold and landed on a step just wide enough to accommodate his little feet and grabbed for the pendant again.

  “Leave us alone!”

  Ran somehow got the pendant high enough to shower them in its light but left enough slack so its leather thong didn’t choke Sarn this time. The cold thing wrapped around his ankle let go as the shadows retreated to the previous landing, which wasn’t far enough away.

  “Let’s go, Papa.” Ran tugged his arm to get him moving.

  “Yes, I must go to my master,” said the promise.

  Sarn shook his head as he tried to push words past its compulsion. But it was no good. The promise owned him. Every minute past the hour he failed to appear before his master, the more it tightened its grip.

  “Then we’d better do that.” Ran clasped his hand.

  Sarn nodded. Maybe my masters will know what to do. But that could be the promise talking as it twisted his mind toward its own ends. Or maybe that was just plain good sense spinning out that fantasy as Sarn stepped onto the landing and into the light. But I can't imagine confessing everything I've done, seen and speculated over the last month to Nolo because there’s no way to do that without mentioning my son, who’d been through so much of it with me.

  Not without lying. I can't lie to Nolo. At least not in words because once a lie was spoken, it couldn't be retracted. But silence could be broken. So it was better for all if he just kept quiet about all of this. They can't take Ran away from me if they don't know he exists.

  Still, the question gnawed at Sarn. If he could ask, what would Nolo advise? Feeling eyes upon him, Sarn glanced over his shoulder at the shadows on the landing.

  A bell chimed, ringing in another hour. It hit Sarn like a hammer blow, dropping him to his knees. Each peal pummeled him as he belly-crawled through a portal into the well-lit corridor three floors above the Lower Quarters. Those insidious bells rang twenty-one times then fell silent.

  “Why does it hurt you?”

  There were tears in his son’s eyes as Sarn gained his knees.

  “Because I’m disobeying it.”

  “But you’re trying. Doesn’t trying count?”

  Sarn shook his head. He felt battered and bruised as he used a nearby statue to help him rise. But all those wounds were internal.

  “I won’t ask you to promise things anymore. I don’t want to hurt you. Ever.” Ran traced a cross over his heart.

  Sarn cupped his son’s face in his hands and wiped away his tears. “You wouldn’t ask me to promise something that’s hard to fulfill every day. You’re not like that.”

  One corner of Ran’s mouth quirked up, and he held two fingers aloft. “Can I have two sausages then? Since I’m such a good boy? Good boys should get two.”

  “What?”

  The abrupt change in topics caught Sarn flatfooted, which had been his clever son’s intent.

  “I’m hungry.” Ran shrugged, his good cheer returning as he regarded the statues guarding the entranceway. Obviously, his son recognized those militant statues from previous trips.

  So far, those rogue shadows couldn’t pass between them, not with all the light concentrated on this spot. From the lumir mosaic high overhead to the lumir crystals studding the friezes that ran the length of both walls to the glaring, crystal eyes of six statues, light fell on them from all angles. It was as bright as midday, and there was nowhere for the shadows to go.

  He heard a grinding sound as if those shadows were gnashing their teeth. Ran heard it too and leaned into his leg.

  “Can we get food on the way to your master? Will the promise let you?”

  Sarn bit his lip as the promise pushed him, and he stumbled through those statues. They were posed as if the sculptor had caught them mid-fight. Instead of answering, Sarn ducked under two crossed swords as fear turned his insides to ice water. I can’t take my son to work. They’ll take him away, but I don't have a safe place to leave him for even one hour.

  Sarn tried to stop, but the promise wouldn’t let him. A loud crash echoed from somewhere ahead followed by the creaking of a hinge.

  “What was that?”

  “Probably a door opening. I hear footsteps.”

  Without his magic, Sarn couldn’t tell which way that person was going. Nor could he turn aside because the promise wouldn’t let him.

  “Papa? It’s hurting you again, isn’t it?”

  Sarn nodded, and Ran squeezed his hand.

  “Once I find my master, I’ll be okay.”

  But I don’t know where he is, and neither does the promise. I can’t take all night to find Nolo. I’m not sure how much more pain I can take. It was already almost blinding. Sarn staggered from statue to statue, holding whatever sculpted appendage was in reach to keep from falling.

  Ran darted in front of him right before they exited the statue installation. The Litherians had some strange notions about the proper locations for décor. Apparently, they’d seen nothing wrong with placing a group of statues in the way.

  “I don’t think we should go this way,” Ran said.

  “Why?” Sarn ducked under a rusting spear thrust through the belly of one of the statues. Attempts had been made to saw through it, judging by the groove cut near the statue’s hand, but none had succeeded.

  “’Cause black squiggles are dancing on their heads. And I don’t like them.”

  Ran backed into Sarn as he cleared the last obstacle.

  Six people stared at them, and their fore-shortened shadows nipped at their heels, urging those blank-eyed people onward. As one, they raised their hands palm out and shuffled forward, chanting:

  “Descend, descend, descend into the pit.”

  Behind those enslaved people, a hooded man raised his head and smiled. Shadows veiled him all except for his crooked smile. His teeth gleamed like a scythe's curved blade as Ran screamed.

  Making Monsters

  On the rim, a curious creature cautiously approached the head. All through the day, she’d watched the lumir crystals lighting the fungal farms that fed her colony wink out. A stygian gloom had settled over her den, and its touch had sickened many kits—including hers.

  She must find a Light-Bringer—a mage who could put the fire back in the stones and shut away the Deep Darkness That Kills again. But she'd gone to the Light-Bringer's den, and he wasn't there. Neither was his kit.

  At about three feet long, she was a third of the size of the giant head that had rolled into her path, and it made her fur stand on end. Her prehensile tail crooked into a question mark as she probed the obstacle with furry hands.

  Since her race was native to Shayari, she was sensitive to the currents of magic and its absence. Even though she'd grown up wild instead of as the familiar of a mage, she felt a deep-seated urge to find and destroy the thing disturbing the magic she thrived on. So she poked, prodded and pried at the wizened thing slowly draining her life force, certain the problem was inside it.

  Below, the Ægeldar sensed movement above and the hated feel of magic. Guessing what had happened, it grinned betraying a mouth of black needle-sharp teeth. Yes, liberate my little gift. Let's find out if wraiths are immune to black lumir’s influence. That head was full of it. Soon that creature would release it—if it survived long enough to do the honors. If not, there were plenty more magical misfits who would take their turn. Shayari had always been a magical menagerie.

  Apparently, time hadn’t changed that. Which meant, there might be dragons in the deep places of the world. The Ægeldar shifted uneasily at that unwanted thought.

  Dragons were visitors from another plane, just like the Ægeldar itself. Even if the Final Solution had eradicated them in centuries' past, another one could have crossed over and survived. No, they're gone. This is my world now, and I'll remake it to suit my kind.

  If the Ægeldar could launch enough black lumir crystals out of the pit, they would destroy everything that made Shayari the special place it was and t
urn it into a paradise for a new generation of monsters. Ah, my children, I do all this for you. The Ægeldar patted one of its hopefully still-viable eggs. It wasn’t time to quicken them yet.

  The Ægeldar scooped up another shell fragment and contemplated its perfect blackness before flinging it out of its prison. The dinner-plate-sized teardrop landed on the rim, but it was barely perceptible in the dark. The Adversary was still combing the thought-streams for something. No doubt, he was bent on some overcomplicated scheme. The devil was in the details, after all.

  Neither of the two wraiths keeping their flying vigil around the revolving gray ball of soul energy gave the settling shell more than a glance. It was one more detail lost in the deep shadows blanketing the cave. Perhaps, they hadn’t seen it. They were hovering close to the ceiling roughly thirty feet overhead. Those fools would regret that soon enough. But not yet, not until Gore showed up.

  What’s keeping him? The Ægeldar fought down a rising tide of impatience before such feelings could convince it to act prematurely. Its plan was simple, because complex plans seldom survived contact with the Adversary. So the Ægeldar lifted another piece of shell that had once housed one of its stillborn offspring.

  It peered at the scratch marks on the ground where it'd hastily sketched out a way to defeat the dampening effects of the pit. Soon, it would unleash the full magic-nullifying power of those black lumir crystals. All it needed was a catalyst, and the Ægeldar had two wraiths in mind for that—the two fools circling the soul-ball.

  This piece would do. The Ægeldar aimed at another spot roughly three feet from the last one and threw. The fragment shot out of the pit. It was another matte black tear spinning through the darkness, another failed attempt to continue its race. I won't be the last; the Ægeldar thought as it settled itself over its remaining eggs.