“That depends. Are you Will?”
“Yes, what can I help you with?”
Will set the bowl down on a desk beside a leather-bound book. A hint of a very familiar magic clung to him.
“Oh, I think you can help me with a great many things.” The Adversary smiled as he peeled back Will’s surface thoughts for a peek inside. And just as he’d hoped, Sarn was all over Will’s mind. In fact, Will had talked about him a few hours ago with another friend of Sarn’s.
“Tell me everything you know about Sarn.”
“I don't know who you're talking about. I've never met anyone by that name.” Will backed away keeping the desk between them as if that could protect him, silly mortal.
“Oh, you know all about him. I see him in your mind. I know you want to talk about him. You're upset. I can feel it. Tell me all about it.”
“No, and I think it's time you left.”
“Make me.”
The Adversary folded his arms and planted his incorporeal feet on the humming stone floor. His smile slipped as he identified the spell woven into those stones.
Will drew himself up to his full height and barked two words. The only ones that could banish him.
“Get out.”
The ancient spell woke with a vengeance and jettisoned the Adversary. Old wards snapped up encasing that building and the angry young man inside it in a green, sparkling sphere. The Litherians did good work. When they built a ward, it lasted as long as someone fed it magic, and someone had. Sarn bled magic from every pore. All he had to do was walk by that ward, and it would refuel itself.
If Will stayed in there, he was untouchable. Well, there went that plan, but he'd gleaned a few useful tidbits before that fool had fought back. Apparently, mages held jobs in this day and age. Who knew?
So Sarn worked every night for the Rangers while his brother and some orphans took turns babysitting his son. Now I know why you were last seen en route to the upper level. You were headed to work. How pedestrian of you. But I also know where your son is and where your brother will go if I give him a little push.
His plan was coming together quite nicely, and that put a little bounce in his step. It's time I met these orphans you’re so fond of. I think we could be great friends. The Adversary sent his shadows new instructions. It was time to drive Sarn into his trap.
On his way back to the mountain, the Adversary skimmed all the minds within reach. One of them had to know the river’s speed, and one did. On a ship passing the harbor, an ensign lay on his bunk reckoning the days until he could see his sweetheart again. The Adversary touched his mind, and the lad clutched his lady-love’s letter to his chest.
“How fast is the Nirthal running?”
“About two knots per hour.”
“Thanks, forget we spoke.”
The Adversary withdrew from his mind. That rogue stone could reach Mount Eredren in less than an hour once it hit the Nirthal. How long would it take to reach that mighty river? The tributary carrying it now didn't move anywhere near as fast as the Nirthal.
Damn it. I need more time and more wraiths or one particular mage. The Adversary sent out his thoughts again, calling all sinners.
“To your dark father, fly. Come, Sinners, thy time is nigh,” he said as his spirit dissolved into a squirming, man-shaped pile of black worms just the right size to crawl into the waiting ear of the sinner who volunteered to be his hands. Those worms shot through the darkness cloaking the Lower Quarters like a hail of arrows in flight, and his voice trailed behind them, attenuating his call.
But the song of those damned bells still echoed in the minds he passed. The worms of his will ricocheted off them. Religion had deafened those mortals to everything except the One True King's voice. And I’m not Him. No matter, those bells can’t protect them all.
There would always be someone on the make or the take. It was human nature to covet. Everyone wanted something even the mageling he sought.
What do you covet, Sarn? Perhaps those Foundlings will know. But first, he needed to find them.
Ran to the Rescue
“Papa?” Ran shook his shoulder, but there was no response.
Papa was doing that silent intense thing again. Maybe his magic’s coming back. Ran peered into his father’s eyes, but they remained a dull green with only a tiny flame burning in their depths. So deep, he almost couldn't see it.
Sometimes Papa had these staring spells, but they usually didn’t last long. The door handle turned jolting him out of his thoughts. Someone wanted to enter this room. Ran squeezed his eyes tight-shut. Go away. Leave me and Papa alone.
No response. The door rattled again. Ran opened his eyes and touched Papa's shoulder, but he didn't rouse. The door thumped against his back. It couldn’t open with Papa sitting in front of it. That should have relieved Ran, but it didn’t because no one knocked or called out. There was only the muffled thump of the door hitting an immovable object.
“Papa? Did the bad magic get you again?”
If it did I’d feel it, but I don’t. Ran bit his lip then glanced at Bear, but his fuzzy friend was a limp weight in his arms. Bear was still absent from his cloth shell.
“Auntie Sovvan?”
Ran pivoted as he called her because sometimes she appeared in unexpected places. But not this time. Why’s no one coming when I call them? Did the Adversary or his bad magic get them too? What do I do if it did? Ran turned back to face Papa.
The door rattled as whoever was outside tried to enter again. It was those staring people the Adversary had touched. Ran knew it even though he couldn’t see them. Somehow, they’d tracked him and Papa here.
“Papa? Please, come back. I need you.”
Papa blinked as he tried to comply, but a deep bong echoed through the six-foot square that was this closet. It was those bells again. Papa convulsed as they rang again and again and again. Then, his eyes rolled up in his head, and he slumped onto his side.
Since he’d been sitting, Papa didn’t have far to fall, but this storage room was so crowded, Papa landed on a pile of towels and narrowly missed slamming his head on the shelf less than an inch behind them. His long legs still blocked the door so when it swung in for the third time, it struck his rump. A hand shot through that gap, reaching for Papa.
“Go away.” Ran swung Bear at that hand as the bells chimed a fourth time.
“Bong.”
“Five.”
The hand shook like Papa did for several bells then it retracted and muffled voices filled the pause between the twelfth and thirteenth peals. Footsteps faded, and all was silent again.
“Twenty. Papa’s having some kind of fit,” Ran said into Bear’s head as he squeezed his favorite toy.
Those bells had rung twenty-two times, and Papa had seized in time with them. When they stopped, so did Papa. He lay still and quiet now, but that gray place inside his head was larger than before.
Why are you growing? Are you the bad thing hurting Papa? Ran extended a hand and laid it on Papa’s head determined to find out what that gray stuff was, and why it was in there. He’d asked Bear and the Queen Tree, but they’d just confirmed that Papa was fixable. Why won’t they tell me what’s wrong? Don't they know how to fix Papa?
Ran blinked away tears. I don’t see that gray place in other people’s heads. And he’d looked too. Granted, he didn’t see that many people since Papa liked abandoned staircases and tunnels. If Papa could avoid people, he did. And when he couldn’t, he’d pick Ran up and sprint past them. So Ran had mainly looked at the heads of the Foundlings, and none of them had gray places.
I must figure this out. But his fingers told him nothing he didn't already know. His little gift had gone back to sleep after he'd used it to drive the bad magic out of Papa earlier. Ran poked and prodded that little flame in his heart. Wake up. Papa needs you.
But it didn't react, and that was totally unfair of Fate, the universe or whatever else was out there. Maybe it needs to recuperate. Bear said that
's important for magic or magic-users or both. Ran was a little fuzzy on the details. Who else can I ask about this?
Not his uncle because Uncle Miren had no special powers unless complaining counted. The same went for Will and the Foundlings, and there was no one else he saw regularly because Papa was shy. But he was starting to come around.
“Papa, are you back?”
“What are you talking about? I didn't go anywhere.”
Papa rubbed his eyes. He still sounded groggy, but that was okay because he was back. Relief made Ran giddy, and he laughed at Papa’s response, then his stomach gurgled reminding him it had been many hours since the Queen Tree had given him an All-Fruit. I should have asked for two. Next time, I will.
Sarn opened his eyes and winced as the promise stabbed him twenty-two times.
“You’re bleeding.” Ran pointed to his nose as Sarn sat up.
Sarn wiped the blood away on his sleeve. “What happened?”
“You passed out.”
“I did?”
Ran nodded.
Though he shouldn’t be surprised. It would only get worse until he found Nolo. But how can I find him without magic? The more time passes, the more places I must check. It was a hopeless quest but not one Sarn could deviate from. The promise wouldn’t let him. Even now, it was pushing him psychically to ‘go, go, go to his master, now, now, now' or else.
“Are the bad people gone now?”
“You mean the people the Adversary overshadowed.” Sarn rubbed his eyes. “You know they’re not bad, right? They’re just under his control somehow. I wish I knew a way to counter it—a non-magical way.” Sarn rubbed the bridge of his nose where the pain was worst.
“I know. Can we go now? I don’t like this place.”
“Yeah, let me just make sure those people are gone.”
Because he didn’t want to get into a fight with innocent people forced to do another’s bidding.
“He’s a coward.”
“Who, the Adversary?”
“Yes. That’s what cowards do, isn’t it? They make people do bad things for them, so they don’t have to do them.”
“Yeah, that’s one way of looking at it.”
Sarn rose surprised by his son’s insight. He put a finger to his lips signaling for silence and waited for Ran’s nod before opening the door. Sarn peered through the gap uncertain what to expect.
This corridor was half as wide as the main thoroughfare. Its ceiling mosaic wasn’t as detailed either, nor as bright. Unlike most, it didn't seem to have a pattern. Was it dimmer than usual? Had the black lumir crystal’s influence permeated this level too? Or were his tired eyes playing tricks on him?
Please, let that magic-nullifying mist stay in the Lower Quarters. I don't want to relight that many miles of lumir.
If those crystals ever went out, they’d order him to rekindle them. But only if he got his magic back because no one else could do it. That was one more reason against taking it up again.
There were miles upon miles of mosaics made of lumir, not just on the ceilings of most levels, but along the walls too in some corridors. Thank Fate, this one was still glowing softly and painting his pensive son’s face in soothing blue light as Ran crept past him. His son had locked onto his target—an unattended cart laden with covered dishes.
A fountain burbled in between this storeroom and that cart. Perfect. Food and water were within sight and for the moment, no one was about. That was one half of his plan already satisfied. Fate’s with me. Maybe my heroes are too.
Sarn swayed, dizzy from exhaustion and hunger as he stepped out into the square. He’d spent the day running around fighting monsters instead of sleeping, nor had his unintended cat nap done much to improve that situation. All that toil was catching up to him, but the promise prodded him with red hot pokers.
“Go to Nolo,” it whispered as he slumped onto the wide basin of a fountain. Shadows circled it, or maybe he was hallucinating that. Sarn rubbed his eyes. When he looked at the floor again, there was only his shadow and Ran’s.
His throat burned from thirst, and his wavy reflection looked as haggard as he felt. The air was so dry, it was beginning to hurt his nose. Ran must be parched too. Sarn patted his pockets in search of a cup, but found none, nor were there any in the storeroom they’d just left, so he scooped up handfuls of water.
No meddlesome magic pushed the water away from his skin when he plunged his head under that cold, sparkling surface. Nor did the water have any affect on him other than to momentarily refresh him.
Water streamed down his face soaking his tunic, but the drenching had shocked some of the exhaustion out of him. It would return but for now at least, Sarn was wide awake and ready to take on his master—if he could just find the man. The promise pounded on his skull in the worst headache he’d ever had. Thinking was so hard with the pain stabbing in time with his pulse.
Ran didn't ask if he was all right because he wasn't, and they both knew it. Admitting it would do no one any good. Sarn scooped up some water in his extra-large hands and offered it to his son.
“Have some. It's cold but good.”
But Ran was looking at the cart. A white sheet covered it. Even from here, the scent of sausages was unmistakable, and it made Sarn’s mouth water. Ran pointed at the cart. No words were required.
Sarn glanced about, but there still wasn’t anyone around. Nor could he tell how long that situation would last. Lots of people lived or worked in this area. The Adversary was likely pulling more of them from their homes or jobs and sending them this way. That fiend had done it before. I don't want to hurt them.
“Where is everybody?”
Sarn shrugged. “They’re probably on their way here.”
Sarn pulled up what remained of his map, but without magic to fix his exact location, he had to guess at where they were. Where is Nolo usually two hours after I meet him?
As second in command of the Rangers, Nolo’s nightly duties varied. Since Sarn served him directly, his did too. There was no telling where Nolo was now. He could be sitting in Jerlo’s office, or waiting outside by Common Rock, or deep inside the Enchanted Forest, or a dozen other places.
“Sausages, Papa. I want sausages before they come back. You said I could have two since I'm such a good boy. Good boys deserve two.” Ran held up two fingers to drive home his point.
“I don't remember saying that.”
Sarn shook his head then regretted that move when pain split his skull open. Sitting felt good, but he rose hoping the pain would lessen if he moved. Sometimes the illusion of progress mollified the promise. This wasn’t one of those times since he was more than two hours late already.
Ran caught his hand and pulled. The pain receded as his son towed Sarn to the cart. So did the world as the edges of his vision grayed. Sarn swayed. No, not again, I won't pass out.
“You should have two, too.”
Ran smiled at his unintended alliteration, but it was shadowed by worry when the ground shook, not hard enough to make them stumble, but enough to signal all was not well below. I should be down there doing something about that. At that thought, the unfulfilled promise he'd made to J.C. stirred.
Footsteps startled Sarn. As he pivoted to face the source, a shadowed corridor feeding into this one, Sarn stepped in front of his son. Two promises seized him, and their internal battle locked him in place.
“Papa?”
“Stay behind me,” Sarn said. He had to fight to get each word out. Someone was coming, and both promises wanted him to meet that someone here.
“Are the bad people coming back?”
“Maybe, stay behind me.”
At the limits of sight, a man-shaped shadow rounded the bend and slouched toward them.
Ran gave the cart a longing look. Caught between imminent danger and the promise of a full belly, Ran wriggled free of his grasp and rushed to the cart.
No! Sarn screamed as he fought to escape his invisible bonds. That one word repeated in
side his mind, but he couldn't break free. And that shadow was headed straight for his son.
Stunning Tentacles
A loud crack reverberated through the tunnel. Iraine skidded to a halt, and Nulthir almost crashed into her. The wall shuddered and groaned to their left as they backed away from it.
“Please, tell me that’s an earthquake, not another monster. We’ve already got one on our tail. We don’t need another.” Iraine threw a hopeful look Nulthir’s way. An earthquake would at least be a welcome dash of normalcy in this very strange day.
“I can’t believe I’m agreeing with that.” Agalthar rested his hand on the sword sheathed at his hip.
The short sword was the weapon of choice for a Guard. It was basically a long knife meant to be wielded single-handedly. Its twenty-four-inch length was made for close-in fighting, which was an every day occurrence in the often-tight confines of the Lower Quarters. Once sheathed, it didn't get in the way like the monstrously long bastard blades the Knights favored. They had squires to carry those enormous swords, but a Guard had only himself to carry his kit into danger and with luck, out of it.
“I know how you feel, but to answer your question, I doubt it. It’s probably more weirdness. We’d better bring up the rest of the squad, so we’re not cut off.” Nulthir turned to do just that because the so-called Lower Quarters was a friggin’ maze, and it screwed with his sense of direction. But Agalthar stopped him.
“Let me. I need to make up for disobeying you earlier.” Agalthar loped around the previous bend before Nulthir could countermand that.
“I should have gone instead. Al’s sense of direction sucks down here.” Iraine folded her arms.
“So does mine right now. I have no idea if we’re even under the mountain anymore.”
“True, these tunnels are rumored to crisscross the valley and possibly even the whole country. Do you think they do?”
“Right now, nothing seems impossible.”
Curse Breaker: Sundered Page 12