Curse Breaker: Sundered

by Melinda Kucsera

  “Do you want to be normal?”

  Yes. Fates damn him, Sarn still did. But I want the means to protect myself. I want my magic back. Because that was normal for him, and he couldn’t deny it not while his head rang with pain, and he reeled from the dizziness assaulting him with every step as they wound their way through the shadow-laden obstacle course.

  Piles of wet linens appeared in the glow of his pendant then disappeared as that black fog enveloped them again. Nothing moved inside it. Those nulls were still gone. Either his pendant had destroyed them, or they were bothering someone else with their creepy chanting and grabby hands. I hope they're gone for good.

  Sarn stumbled over a discarded washboard as Ran cowered at his side. Quite a few people had been laundering their clothes when the monster had shown up. I hope they made it out. So far there were no bodies amid the clothes, but they could be buried under the growing piles of broken masonry.

  Somehow, Sarn managed to keep putting one foot in front of the other despite the dizziness and exhaustion dragging him down. Ran was counting on him to get them out of there alive, and Sarn clung to that goal. It propelled him forward, and they slogged into darkness. Above, a light flared intermittently, and the sound of steel-on-steel filtered down. Is that you, Nolo? Are you fighting the monster without me?

  Promise Me

  Ghostly fingers covered his mouth, and an invisible force gagged Miren. He smelled pine needles and felt the warm touch of his brother’s magic. From far off, Sarn’s voice echoed.

  “Promise me …”

  [Nine years ago]

  “Promise me you’ll never give your name to any creatures of the dark.”

  “What are creatures of the dark?” Miren asked as he retreated from the edge, but Sarn just stared into the starry night as if the wind weren’t trying to fling him off the roof. Sarn had always loved heights.

  “Just promise me. Please, Miren.”

  Sarn wrapped his bony arms around his equally bony knees and rocked as he waited for dawn. He wasn’t in a sharing mood—no surprise there. Even though Miren had longed to curl up on his lap, he stayed put. Sarn sat right on the edge as always, but his magic kept his rump rooted to the slate tiles even though his feet touched only air. It was one of his more disturbing habits.

  “Just promise me.”

  “Let’s go inside. It’s cold out here.”

  Miren rubbed his arms through the two sweaters he wore, and the wind cut through them both. Sarn only had one on, but he was too locked inside himself to notice or care about the cold even when his teeth started chattering.

  “P-promise m-me.”

  “I promise. Can we go inside now?” Miren pointed even though Sarn had his back to him and couldn’t see the gesture. “I’m cold, Sarn. I want to go inside.”

  Because he couldn’t make the climb by himself down the drainpipe. Just the thought of trying made his blood run cold.

  “You promise?”

  “Yes, silly, I promise I won’t tell any bad things that go bump in the night my name. Are you happy now?”

  Sarn nodded like someone waking from a dream and scooped Miren up, hugging him hard against his bony chest. Magic had swept over him, wrapping him up in an invisible blanket.

  “Thank you,” Sarn whispered into the top of his head.

  Miren had been all of five at the time— and six years Sarn’s junior — but magic had always made Sarn stronger and faster than his ranginess could account for.

  As Sarn approached the edge, Miren closed his eyes and held tight knowing exactly what would come next—that sickening feeling of weightlessness as gravity decided whether it wanted to spar with his brother’s magic or not. After that heart-stopping moment, it latched on. Then came the drop and the sudden stop as Sarn landed in a crouch on the street below.

  [Now]

  As that memory slipped back into the past where it belonged, Miren felt forces beyond his ken try to latch on to him. But this time Sarn wasn’t there to save him. There was only the voice, and the shadow falling over him.

  White light from his pendant sparred with it, but that shadow was also inside his mind where the light couldn’t go. So was the voice and its instructions.

  “Into shadow, you go, brother of Sarn. Fly to darkest dreamland, son. Wait for thy brother. He’ll be there by and by.”

  All his strength ran out of him, and Miren collapsed at the Adversary’s feet.

  The Adversary growled in frustration as his spectral fingers bounced off the teenager he’d just knocked out with his voice. What a strange paradox that youth was. He could call Sarn’s brother through his sins, minor as they were given his age, and his anger, but not touch him because of that damned pendant.

  There was something familiar about it. Something the Adversary had known a long, long time ago when he was the Morning Star and a prince among angels, but he’d forgotten it in the Fall.

  Now there were only whispers of what he'd once had at his beck and call. No matter, he was playing the long game with Sarn anyway. So, there was plenty of time to turn him and uncover his secrets and his brother’s too.

  A silhouette struggled at the edge of the white nimbus surrounding the brat. What have we here? What moth is caught in this boy’s flame? Ah, it's my missing minion, Gore. Who looked none too happy to see him.

  “Where have you been, and what have you been doing? I gave you one simple task: find a demon. How hard can that be? There's a young one masquerading as a human and not doing a very convincing job of it. He leaves corpses scattered around for the humans to find. All you had to do was bag him and drag him back to me. So, where is he?”

  The Adversary circled the teenage boy, name still unknown, on the ground. His pendant glowed on in uninterrupted splendor. Apparently, consciousness wasn't required to keep it going. Neither did the black lumir crystal have any effect on it when its fog blanketed the cave.

  Interesting but not unexpected for the brother of Sarn. Though the Foundlings turned out to be a disappointment. He surveyed their scattered bodies. None had any useful skills or knowledge, and most weren't even close friends with Sarn. A quick mind-scan had made that quite clear. A pity they were mostly passing acquaintances who served as babysitters for Sarn’s mysterious son.

  Not one of their minds yielded a single image of that child or his name. Sarn had shrouded that boy in so many layers of protection, he was a complete blank. Worse still, none of those Foundlings would make a useful lever to use against Sarn. But all wasn’t completely lost. He had found Gore and Sarn's brother.

  "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”

  Gore was a tattered wreck of his former dark glory. The Adversary shook his head as he floated over the bodies strewn in his path never allowing his spectral feet to touch the ground. There was no telling what enchantments Sarn had worked into the place, or if any were still active.

  True Curse breakers could bend magic in ways other mages could not. Even a novice could accidentally weave a spell capable of impeding a ghost. While the Adversary was no ordinary ghost, he was still bound by the rules of his incarceration. Better not to take the chance and act as if there was a trap the black lumir crystal’s magic-stealing touch hadn’t destroyed.

  Gore’s black-on-black eyes tracked his progress. A muscle worked in his jaw as his dark-adjusted eyes fell on the dozen or so children and teenagers lying where they’d fallen when the Adversary had knocked on the back doors of their minds, and they’d granted him access.

  “What have you done to them? Are they dead?”

  “No, they’re not dead. Not everyone needs to die to serve me. I, too, need living servants. No, they’re more useful to me alive as spies.”

  The Adversary extended his hand and blew across it sending black motes caroming through the cavern. They fell on the Foundlings, and a piece of his shadow burrowed into their minds.

  “Leave them alone.”

  Some piece of his former humanity quickened in Gore’s eyes, and a tiny l
ight flickered in their depths. The Adversary recognized the Queen of All Trees’ handiwork. So, she had found a way to get to his henchman. He cast his mind out but could not sense her. So, she wasn’t yet inside the mountain. Good, perhaps she was still unaware of his true plans.

  “They’re quite all right just augmented a bit by my presence.” The Adversary crouched by a child and stroked his troubled brow with a spectral finger. “They’ll come to no harm. In fact, they’ll be better off than before—more cunning and perhaps a bit quicker to sin.” He shrugged.

  “Where’s Ragnes? I sent him to find you ages ago.”

  “He’s gone.”

  “Gone, where? Explain.”

  “Free me and I will.”

  “Very well.”

  Since there was nothing to be gained by leaving Gore trussed up like a prized hog, the Adversary recalled him. Gore’s eyes bulged as his body burst into a hail of black molecules. They slipped through the light waves and coalesced into an angry puddle on the palm of the Adversary's hand.

  “You’re free. Now answer my question.”

  The pool divided into limbs, a torso, and a head, and a miniature Gore glared up at the Adversary from the cage his skeletal fingers made.

  “Speak or I’ll rip the answer from your mind.”

  “You swear you won’t harm them anymore than you already have?” Gore gestured to the Foundlings.

  His newfound concern for them was worrisome. But the Adversary had nothing to lose. The truth was the truth, and it cost him nothing to say it aloud.

  “Yes, yes, they’re too young and inexperienced. Their souls might be bright, but there’s not enough power there for what I need. Quit your worrying and tell me what happened to Ragnes.”

  “I don’t know what happened to him. There was light and fire and when I came to, he was gone.”

  “Hmm, that sounds like the Queen of All Trees. Light has ever been her calling card, but I didn’t think she could affect my wraiths. Now, that’s interesting.”

  And worrying. With Ragnes gone, he had only four wraiths left, and the one presently in his grip was as unreliable as a cat. The Adversary stretched out his thoughts again but couldn’t touch Dirk’s mind. Damn, he was gone too, and the Adversary had no way of keeping track of that rogue black lumir crystal’s progress without Dirk’s eyes on it.

  Double damn. He shifted his focus underground and sought out his remaining two wraiths. Cris and Villar were right where he’d left them—two mindless drones still guarding the soul trap. If the Adversary had been a flesh and blood man, he would have breathed a sigh of relief. I need more wraiths. But fashioning the perfect minion took time, and that was the one commodity he didn’t have enough of.

  Those blasted bells rang again, but softer than before. Their chiming set the Adversary’s teeth on edge. Maybe distance had blunted them, but this time, their song didn’t drive him to his knees. Probably because he wasn’t tempting anyone away from the God those bells lauded. They rang twenty-four times to end one day and start another, singing a twelve-minute lullaby to the children of God before shutting up.

  In the quiet that fell, an angel whispered, “Agnus Dei, quitollis peccata mundi: miserere nobis. Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, have mercy on us. Agnus Dei, quitollis peccata mundi: dona nobis pacem. Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world: grant us peace.”

  “Finally! She shows herself at last.” The Adversary laughed as he locked onto the Angel of Death and rocketed through the stronghold to take the souls in her keeping. He left the Foundlings souls enmeshed in their flesh as promised.

  Beside them, a crystal pendant quickened as the angel repeated her prayer. It prodded Miren, and he stirred.

  Lost and Found

  “Sounds like a battle up there,” Jersten said as they lumbered on at a snail’s pace, zigzagging around fallen statues, shattered stalactites and other detritus.

  A loud crack resounded because Fates forbid the monster take a breather, so they could scamper out of the way. Another shadow fell over them, growing darker is it expanded. Sarn didn’t need his magic to tell him what was happening.

  “Run, something’s falling, and we might be under it.”

  Jersten glanced over his shoulder and blanched. “Oh, my heavenly stars,” he said as fear paralyzed him, and he slammed Sarn to a halt.

  Sarn couldn’t turn his head to look behind him. When he tried, pain ran in lines of agony from the crown of his head all the way down his spine, and every muscle in between complained about the abuse. At least all his limbs worked just not his balance, and all that dizziness required frequent course corrections to stay vertical.

  But Sarn was going nowhere until Jersten did. That damned promise he’d just sworn ensured it. It wrapped around his legs, binding them to this spot. Why the hell did I promise to go with him? That was the dumbest thing I’ve done all night. Sarn leaned on his walking stick as he swayed.

  Nor could he push his son out of the way because he needed the stick to prop him up, and Jersten had his other arm draped over his shoulder. But he couldn’t let them be crushed to death either. I wish my heroes were here. I could use some help right now.

  “Papa, do something,” Ran said in a small, scared voice as he huddled against his leg. Trust his son to find the one place that didn’t hurt to take shelter.

  “I wish I could.”

  But the Guardians of Shayari were gone along with the heroic ages that had birthed them. I wouldn’t even be in this mess if they were still alive and kicking. But they weren’t, and he was, so Sarn gritted his teeth and tried to pry his feet free from the promise and went nowhere fast.

  “Listen to me, Jersten. You have to move, or we’re all dead.”

  “It’s coming for us,” Jersten said in a frightened whisper.

  “Then move damn it. Don’t just stand there.”

  But Jersten just kept staring over his shoulder until a wave crashed into him. Sarn pitched forward but between the staff and Jersten’s hold on him, he stayed upright.

  Ran coughed and spat and stomped his little feet when the water receded.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, just wet and cold and scared.”

  “I wish I could fix that.”

  “Me too.” Ran pressed in close to his leg again and shivered.

  The shadow was still growing though, and that was worrisome. It must be a tentacle. Was it searching for them? Please, anything but that. Let it be that wretched fog closing in on us again. That would be better than those deadly tentacles.

  “Come on.”

  Leaning heavily on his makeshift staff, Sarn hopped in a direction he hoped would take them away from the source of that increasing shadow. When Jersten followed, the promise loosened its hold, so Sarn could walk. But the damned thing constrained his speed to Jersten’s terrified shuffle, which wasn’t helpful.

  I can’t ask Ran to look behind us, but I need to know what’s going on back there. His son was pressed so close to his leg, Ran was throwing off his already compromised balance. Once more, Sarn tried to turn his head, but that move just blurred his vision, and he wobbled and almost fell. To their right, a statue smashed head-first into the ground, and marble shards shot away from it in all directions.

  Ran hid his face in Sarn’s trouser leg as fragments pelted them. They struck Sarn more than his son since Ran was huddled against his stronger left side, and his leg shielded his son for the most part. Though, a few shards struck the stuffed Bear Ran held at an angle in front of him. Smart boy.

  “Don’t stop. Keep going,” Sarn urged Jersten before fear could lock up the older man.

  When the barrage stopped, that shadow was back. It was swallowing everything around them. It must be thrown by one of those tentacles, but what was backlighting it? Had it torn apart another level where a lumir crystal mosaic still glowed?

  There’s magic in those crystals. As Sarn staggered onward, he remembered lighting piles of lumir crystals for the Ra
ngers’ kit bags while trying to figure out how exactly his magic could set them aglow. And that reminded him of the hikers who’d died last month.

  I wanted Nolo to check the logs for mentions of them at the major campsites. I wonder if the scouts hiked out to check them today. That would explain why Nolo was so on edge. Everyone got a little tense when most of the Rangers were out in the forest on extended missions, even if those missions were humanitarian rather than martial.

  “What are you thinking Papa?”

  “About lumir crystals. There’s a filament inside them. That’s what makes them glow.”

  After lighting countless rocks last month for the Rangers, Sarn had finally slowed the process down far enough to see his magic kindle those filaments before spilling over into the tiny cavity under it. That reservoir stored magic to fuel their glow down through the ages.

  “What else are you thinking? You have an idea. I can always tell,” Ran said, and he was right, of course.

  “I was just thinking about the magic in the lumir crystals. If I could just get my hands on it before the black lumir crystal does, I might be able to do something with it.”

  “Don’t you need magic for that?”

  “If I could get the magic out of it somehow, I’d have magic, not a lot, but enough to do something.”

  “But don’t you need magic to get magic?” Ran asked, sounding more and more perplexed, but the conversation had a calming effect on Jersten. So Sarn kept it going even though it was starting to make his head hurt. He would do anything to keep that man shambling in the general direction of safety.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe I could crack it open and get at it that way. Magic does flow. Maybe it’ll flow into me if I get in its way.”

  “Don’t you need magic to break it?”

  Do I? Is Ran right about that? Sarn thought back to the ignition process. It had required magic. To withdraw magic from a lumir crystal, would he need magic? If so, the black lumir crystal itself had a kind of magic and perhaps, it, too, had something inside it that could be extinguished, and a well of black power that could be drained. Could it really be that simple?