Until All Curses Are Lifted

by Tim Frankovich

  “Yes, you’ve channeled a bit of magic into it throughout the day and our training time, but not very much. This is good. It should easily dissipate by the morning.” He handed the sword back. “But continue to resist the urge to deliberately channel magic into the blade. Too much and, well, we’d have to find you a new sword.”

  “Aren’t the swords designed to channel magic?” Aelia asked.

  “Yes, that’s the potential problem.”

  “Then can’t you train him how to use that?”

  Talinir looked flummoxed. “I– I suppose that’s possible. I’ve just never… I’ve never tried it before. I’m not sure how to communicate to– that is, I…”

  Aelia held up her hand. “Enough, warden. I understand. Teach him how to use the sword for now. Maybe later, you can work on the rest.”

  Marshal frowned. She kept making decisions about his life, and he had no control over it whatsoever. He got to his feet and moved off into the darkness. The others would assume he was going to relieve himself.

  He wandered far enough away until he could no longer hear their conversations. The cool night air felt good after the day’s workout. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. For a brief moment, he wondered what would happen if he began running, leaving the others behind, running and running…

  Stupid thought. Talinir would find him in no time. Besides, he was too tired to run away. He sat down in the tall grass and looked up at the stars still emerging for the night. The moon, almost full and glorious, outshone them all. Beauty filled the sky, but nothing like the stars he had seen in the Otherworld. He felt an ache in his heart at the thought. Someday, he had to see those stars again. The ache intensified.

  He closed his eyes and bowed his head. So many thoughts wrestled for his attention, thoughts he could never, ever share with anyone else. Eniri had confirmed that. No wonder he had so much trouble just remembering what nods and shakes of the head meant. The curse went deeper than even he had understood.

  The thought of Eniri changed the projection of his reflections. He had little hope of ever seeing her again. He felt sad about that. She had easily been the most beautiful girl he had ever known. His thoughts wandered down trails he had never seriously contemplated before.

  And yet… Aelia had not given up hope. She had another plan to remove his curse. If it worked, then maybe he could return to Intal Eldanir and visit Eniri again. Best of all, maybe he could get back to the Otherworld, the Starlit Realm.

  He felt a tiny sting on his arm. He opened his eyes and saw a glow. It was a thrummer. He waved his arm, and it took off into the air, its abdomen glowing with a faint green light. Its wings made a soft humming sound.

  Marshal had not seen one of the magic-seeking insects in over a year. They were rare up in the foothills. A memory filled his head of the first time he had seen one glow. He was around five years old, and Aelia had prevented him from swatting the tiny creature when it stung him. She held him in her lap and they watched the glowing insect circle around and around them until its glow faded.

  The thrummers would bite anyone, but were especially drawn to those with some kind of magic within. Aelia had blamed it on his curse. The thrummers couldn’t tell the difference between curse-magic and other kinds. They just liked magic. It made them glow. Most people never saw it happen and regarded the insects as only slightly less annoying than mosquitoes.

  Marshal felt another tiny sting on the back of his hand. It didn’t hurt much. He lifted his hand slowly and watched in fascination as the insect began to glow. Its color began as a shade of red, then shifted into other shades, the longer he left it alone. The brighter it glowed, the faster it beat its wings and the more it hummed.

  He stood and held his arms out from his sides. Another thrummer landed near his elbow, and he felt another sting on the back of his neck. He waited, feeling another sting and another. If they had been mosquitoes, this wouldn’t be worth it, but thrummer bites never left welts.

  He closed his eyes and waited. When he could feel over a dozen insects biting him at once, he shook himself and opened his eyes.

  A spectacular sight awaited. A cloud of colorful, humming insects swarmed all around him. Swirling, twirling, humming and glowing, the thrummers tried repeatedly to settle on his skin again, but he shook them off. He sank back down into the grass, watching the insects circle him. Red, green, blue, yellow, orange, violet - every color was represented and glowed with varying levels of brightness.

  Marshal sprang to his feet and ran, trailing swirls of glowing thrummers. Inwardly, he laughed in delight. He looked over his shoulder, watching the insects chase him. He lost his balance and tumbled through the tall grass. He rolled to a stop on his back and looked up. The thrummers circled his fallen form, swirling just outside his reach. Behind them, a vast array of stars had emerged in the night sky. It wasn’t the Otherworld, but the combination of the moon, stars and thrummers created beauty enough. It filled his aching heart with a feeling he had rarely experienced. It took a moment for him to find the right word to describe it.

  Joy.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  KISHIN CREPT ANOTHER inch closer. In order to defeat the Eldani warden’s watchfulness, he dared not move any faster. If he moved again for another quarter hour, it would be too soon. Patience was a skill requisite in an assassin. To kill the daughter of the Lord of Ch’olan, Kishin had once waited for three hours concealed in a snowbank, unable to move until his target had ventured exactly three feet away from her bodyguard. She had not confessed her curse before dying. Neither had the bodyguard.

  Here, he had only the tall grass to conceal himself, but he made it work. The moon had set, leaving the night illuminated only by the campfire he approached.

  Only two figures sat there now. His target and the young man bound to him both slept. The mother and the Eldani warden remained awake, talking and occasionally feeding the fire.

  Kishin had left his new sword behind, along with his other gear, for tonight. He did not intend to kill his target just yet, but to see what had changed in the city of the Eldanim. It would not do to rush in without full knowledge of the situation.

  He felt the ground immediately in front of him and found nothing that would proclaim his presence. He moved another inch. If he leaned forward, he could hear their conversation. Aelia and the Eldani spoke in low voices.

  “…the cost. Is it worth it?” The warden’s voice was strong in spite of his attempts to keep it quiet. His words were easy to make out.

  “How… say that?” Aelia said. “… my child. How can … … sacrifice for him?” Her softer voice was harder to hear, but the longer he listened, the more words he could distinguish.

  “All parents sacrifice for their children. That doesn’t mean you must go this far.”

  “But it’s … only way left! If there’s any hope…” She trailed off.

  Kishin scowled and broke his rule. He moved another inch forward earlier than planned. This conversation sounded significant.

  “If there’s any hope of lifting Marshal’s curse,” the Eldani said. “I know, I know.”

  Only Kishin’s years of controlled responses kept him from losing his balance in shock. Lifting a curse? Impossible. Ridiculous.

  “Then why do you question me?”

  “Because you are still young. You have many years ahead of you. Regardless of this hope, that is true. There is a limit to the sacrifice a parent is called to make.”

  “And … do we draw that line?” Aelia pleaded. “If my child were sick with the plague, would I not risk myself every day to care for him? Would I not stay by his side to save his life, at the risk of my own?”

  “Of course, but–”

  “There is no difference! Marshal’s very life is threatened. The only way for him to survive is for his curse to be removed. We went to the Eldanim, and they turned us down. All that remains is the temple.”

  The temple. In Reman? Did the priests have a way to remove curses? How had he nev
er heard this before? How was it possible?

  “I can guide you back across the plains,” the Eldani insisted. “We can go to the other side. Beyond it–”

  “There is nothing beyond it! Outside of Antises, the world is barren and ruled by barbarians, and…”

  “You do not know that. If we go far enough, we may find something. And if we go far enough, we can leave these problems behind.”

  Aelia did not speak for a long moment. Kishin resisted the urge to move closer again.

  “Do you truly believe that Volraag will give up? That his assassin will give up?”

  Not likely.

  “No,” the Eldani admitted.

  “Then our path is clear. Please do not speak of this any more on our road to Reman. Let me enjoy what time I have with my son.” She stood. “Goodnight, Talinir.”

  “Goodnight, my lady. I will honor your request.”

  As Aelia readied her bedroll, Kishin moved an inch back. He had heard enough, and it had shaken him.

  Curses could not be lifted. The laws of the universe would not permit it. This was the way of things. Nothing could change that. But the conversation had implied not just one, but two ways to lift a curse.

  Kishin supposed it made sense that the Eldanim might be able to do the impossible. They were creatures of magic, after all. Simply because he had never heard of them lifting a curse didn’t mean it wasn’t possible. But they had rejected Marshal, despite taking him in and healing him. That meant either they couldn’t actually do it, or they didn’t want to try because of the difficulty, or they simply did not want to interfere in the human world. Any possibility might be true.

  But the temple? In Reman? Preposterous. Priests did not have that kind of power. Maybe the mages of Zes Sivas, but priests? Ridiculous.

  He had never been to Reman’s temple, but Kishin had once killed a priest in the temple of Tenjkidi in Mandiata. He couldn’t recall taking on an easier job. The priest was fat and ignorant of anything outside his own tiny sphere of influence. Strangely, when Kishin had pressed him, he had admitted a true curse - impotency. Theon sometimes displayed a strange sense of humor.

  Walking among the priests had given Kishin some insight into their world. They worked to remind people of Theon’s justice and encourage them to keep the laws. Nothing more. They had no magic, no true k’uh. How could they possibly lift a curse?

  Yet Aelia seemed convinced it could happen, and that it would cost her dearly. The Eldani wanted to talk her out of it. He seemed to believe it, too.

  No. It was a fool’s errand. The impossible was still impossible, no matter what someone might believe.

  Kishin knew one thing. The closer Marshal came to the city of Reman, the easier Kishin’s job would become. For now, he would follow and wait for opportunity.

  Time was on his side.

  He gathered himself to move further away when a movement by Talinir caught his attention. The Eldani had spread his own bedroll and lay on it, looking up at the stars. But he looked uncomfortable, shifting around. Curious.

  Talinir glanced in the direction of Aelia’s bedroll. Then he dug in his pack and removed a leather pouch. He squeezed one drop of liquid into his palm and laid back down. He held his hand above his face and the light from the starshine washed over it.

  Interesting. Kishin looked to the sky. Thousands of stars shone down tonight, but apparently not enough for the warden. Kishin knew a weakness when he saw one, a weakness he could exploit.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  “THE EASIEST THING in the world is to destroy something,” Master Hain said. “That which can be built can be destroyed. But to restore something already destroyed? That takes true power.”

  He placed several fist-sized chunks of hardened clay on the table in front of Seri. She opened her mouth to ask a question, but he warned her with a raised finger.

  “This is why the priests teach that one day Theon will restore the world itself. For while we believe he created it all, it is now broken, damaged. And if he can restore it one day, then that is true power. For what greater power can there be than to restore a broken world?”

  Seri nodded and looked at the clay. She wanted to ask the color question, but so far this morning, Master Hain had not allowed her to speak.

  “Unfortunately, for our purposes, the easiest way for me to teach you to channel the magic of Zes Sivas involves destruction.” Master Hain sighed and pointed at the clay. “We will start with clay, as it is one of the easiest substances to work with, and it won’t cause a lot of damage should you lose control.”

  Lose control? Seri had not considered that side of things. A mage with no control over her powers would be insanely dangerous. What would the Conclave do if an acolyte couldn’t gain control? Would she be banished from the island? Or worse?

  “You’ve seen me destroy a stone, so there’s no need for me to demonstrate. Instead, we must work on your channeling. Pick up one of these.” He gestured.

  Seri picked up a chunk of clay and waited expectantly.

  “Now, this clay is solid enough to hold its shape, but if you squeezed hard enough, you might be able to break it,” Hain went on. “Do not squeeze it. Instead, hold it loosely in your palm, like so.” He demonstrated, and Seri imitated him.

  “Close your eyes. There is no magic bound within the clay, so do not focus there yet. Instead, focus on the call of Zes Sivas. You have felt it for two days now. It should be very familiar.”

  Seri nodded, her eyes closed. The call was always there, vibrating, straining, begging her to use it.

  “This is where you accept that call.”

  “How?” The question popped out of Seri’s mouth before she could stop it.

  “Hush. Concentrate. Open yourself up to the power.”

  Seri stood still and tried to follow his instructions. Nothing happened. After another minute, she admitted, “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be doing.”

  “It is calling to you, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “If you were outside and a familiar voice called to you, the first thing you would do is turn toward the sound of their voice,” Master Hain said. “Zes Sivas is calling. In your mind, turn yourself toward it.” He waited a moment, then went on: “When you see the friend who is calling you, what do you do? You react in pleasure. Maybe you run toward him. In your mind, express your pleasure toward the magic, run toward it… and then embrace it.”

  Seri kept her eyes closed and tried to focus. She tried communicating pleasure toward the magic. Nothing seemed to be working. She could feel the vibrations, just beyond her reach. Master Hain continued to speak in calm, measured words, repeating his analogy and encouraging her to keep trying.

  After fifteen minutes with no success, Master Hain backed off and let her continue to try on her own. Frustrated, Seri tried and tried again. Another half an hour passed by with no success. Master Hain did not act impatient or disappointed. He uttered a few encouraging words every so often and continued to wait for her.

  Seri bowed her head and opened her left eye. She wasn’t sure what she expected to see, but at first everything looked the same. Then a thick beam of green-tinted light shot through the floor near her feet and continued on through the ceiling. It vanished only a second or two after it appeared. As she kept watching, she saw more beams of varying colors appear. They must come from the vortex she had seen in the Inner Sanctum.

  After a few moments, she surreptitiously adjusted the position of her left hand and intercepted one of the beams, a pale green one. She gasped as she realized the power she had felt calling her for two days had now entered her body. It felt like spasms throughout her chest. She quickly closed her eye.

  “Do you feel it?” Master Hain asked.

  “Yes. I– Yes!”

  “Now! Focus on the clay!”

  Seri complied. She focused for only a split-second. The chunk of clay exploded in her hand, scattering a dozen or so pieces in every direction. Three or four pieces st
ruck her, but weren’t moving fast enough to hurt. She opened her eyes and stared open-mouthed.

  “I did it!”

  Master Hain clapped. “Very good! I knew you would find the connection.”

  Seri did not mention the beams of light. Had she stumbled across a completely different way of doing magic? Or was this the way the Eldanim did it? It’s what Curasir had been doing, or something to the same effect. Maybe Master Hain and the others did the same thing, but couldn’t see it the way she could.

  Master Hain placed another chunk of clay in her hand. “Try again,” he ordered.

  Seri repeated the process, but this time managed to speed up her focus on her star-sight (as she called it in her mind). She saw another green beam and started to reach for it, then hesitated. Did the color make a difference?

  Instead of the green, she intercepted a reddish beam. She felt the power enter her again, but the vibration wasn’t the same. It felt… less. She focused on the clay again.

  This time, the chunk of clay came apart, but the pieces did not shoot out of her hand. Some of them tumbled off, while the others remained.

  “Interesting,” Master Hain said. “Most students pull in more power the second time. You pulled in less. Did you stop drawing it in early?”

  “I’m not sure,” she answered. “I think so. Can I try again?”

  “Yes, but the reverse is also true. Try not to draw in too much.”

  Seri took another chunk of clay and tried again. This time, she waited, watching the various colors. Green had been stronger than red. So many shades. Which one should she choose? She settled on blue, reached out and intercepted the nearest beam.

  Instantly she stiffened. The power rushed through her body. She could feel the vibrations stronger than before. Even her throat vibrated. She felt saliva pooling rapidly within her mouth. Could this be too much? She focused on the clay, bracing herself at the same time.