Until All Curses Are Lifted

by Tim Frankovich

  Her racing pulse began to slow. Despite the ruins about her, Seri felt at peace here. She took a deep breath and smelled the smoke. That was odd. It smelled… different. From experience, she knew smoke could smell many ways, depending on what was being burned, but this smell defied her senses. The closest she could come was burnt cinnamon, but even that seemed way off the mark.

  Curious, Seri set out across the rubble, moving toward the smoke. It wasn’t far, from what she could tell, somewhere near the coast on the northwest side of the island.

  The beauty of the stars began to pull at her. In her previous visions, she had seen them, of course, but not like this. So many colors! The magnitude of some of them! Her heart seemed to swell within her breast. An unknown emotion grew with it, forcing a tear from her right eye. She brushed it away angrily. Why would she cry? It made no sense.

  The smoke came from beyond the next pile of debris. The unstable rubble made her climb difficult. As she crested the top, she shoved over a flat stone and caused a small avalanche down the other side toward the smoke.

  The sound of another rush of movement answered it. “Who’s there?” a voice called.

  Seri looked down and saw a man looking back at her.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE

  MARSHAL BOWED HIS head and took a deep breath. Since stepping into the Otherworld, he had felt strange sensations all throughout his body. When Lord Varion’s power had become his, only a few minutes ago, it had coalesced into a seething, roiling fury within him. But now, he felt as if the magic were permeating every part of him, growing and growing. He had no doubts Curasir was telling the truth about his abilities. Given the right training, he could probably change this place. Part of him wanted to, to make it a place worthy of those stars.

  But at what cost? If what Talinir said was true, the earthquake was only the beginning of the troubles Antises would face. More than that, these… Durunim had killed his mother. Nothing else mattered right now.

  The ground shook beneath Marshal. This time, he knew he had caused it.

  “Don’t waste this opportunity,” Curasir said. “If you don’t help, we have others we can turn to. You will be cast aside, forgotten. Your value, your purpose, is with us.”

  “I am… valuable.”

  “Yes. Yes, you are.”

  The ground shook again.

  “I have… a purpose.”

  “A glorious purpose. Let me show you.”

  “I am… loved.”

  Curasir frowned. “Well, yes, I suppose…”

  Marshal screamed and unleashed his power directly at Curasir. The towering Durunim was thrown back down the hill and tumbled several times before righting himself. To Marshal’s shock, he laughed and launched himself into the air.

  “Idiot. This is the Starlit Realm. My power reigns here!”

  Curasir came down and swung his sword in Marshal’s direction. Power not his own slammed into him, driving him back and rattling his bones.

  Curasir landed a few feet away. “Come, Varion’s son. Show me your power,” he taunted.

  Four Durunim warriors rushed at Marshal from all sides.

  •••••

  “Who are you?” the man demanded. He seemed equally as shocked to see Seri as she was to see him.

  He stood well over six feet tall, gangly and perhaps malnourished. His clothes hung in tatters, and his graying hair long and unkempt. His age was hard to construe, but Seri guessed him to be at least late middle aged, perhaps older. Seri took a step closer, then stopped with a gasp as she caught a better look at him. Blotches of pure darkness appeared on various places on his pale skin, some around the size of a coin, others much larger. They looked like Curasir’s skin had appeared when Seri saw him within the heart of Zes Sivas, a complete absence of color.

  The man held a rough wooden spear aimed at her. The smoothness of its haft spoke of long usage. On the ground beside him, a low fire burned, the source of the smoke at last.

  “I’m Seri. What– who are you?”

  The spear tip lowered. “How did you get here? What is going on?”

  “I want to know the same about you. I didn’t know anyone lived here. Have you been here long?” Seri felt a bit annoyed at his questions. After what she had been through!

  “Long enough not to trust anything,” the man said. “You’re clearly not one of the Durunim, but you shouldn’t be here, unless…”

  He paused and looked her over thoroughly. Seri felt self-conscious under his gaze. She had the feeling she was being evaluated for something. At the same time, thoughts of home began to push back to the forefront of her mind.

  “Listen, I don’t know who you are,” she said, “but I need to get back. The Lords are under attack. Two are dead already.”

  He nodded. “Two already. That makes sense.” He glanced toward the west. “And the fight over there has already begun too.”

  Fight over there? Seri was curious, but she needed to get back. “Why can’t I see the magic on this side?” she said to herself. She tried blinking a few times without any change.

  •••••

  Marshal blasted one of the Durunim away with his power. The ease with which he did so surprised him. Had he grown attuned to it that quickly? A second one swung a massive sword at him, which he ducked with ease. Being three feet shorter than the other combatants had its advantages.

  To his right, he caught brief glimpses of Talinir. The warden was a blur, battling two, even three of the Durunim at once. He seemed to be holding his own.

  Curasir pointed his sword at Marshal again. As the power exploded toward him, Marshal leaped up, blasting the ground with the full force he could muster. The impact launched him skyward with a speed that took his breath away.

  “Marshal!” Talinir’s shout barely registered on his ears.

  As he hit the apex of his flight, he sucked in huge lungfuls of air. At this height, the giant stars looked almost close enough to touch. Again, his heart ached at the glorious sight. If only he could just lie down again and look up…

  A blast of power struck him in the back. It wasn’t strong enough to do any damage, but it threw him off balance and he tumbled head over heels as he plummeted towards the ground.

  “You’re in my world, human!” Curasir called. “You cannot hope to beat me!”

  •••••

  The stranger took a step closer. His movement drew Seri’s eyes to his feet: shoeless, rough, and dirty. How long had he lived here? She looked up and found him studying her intently.

  “Your eye…” he said.

  “Yes, I have a star in it. I can see magic. Sometimes.”

  “That must be why you’re here,” he said. “You can help him!”

  “Help who?”

  A rumble echoed across the sky. Seri looked to the west and saw a distant figure leap impossibly high into the air, silhouetted against the stars. A second figure flew after the first. She couldn’t see much from this distance, but they appeared to be fighting somehow. Magic?

  “Yes, there!” the stranger cried. “He’s there. You have to help him!”

  “Why should I?” Seri asked. “I don’t know who that is. I don’t know you. Why should I listen to you?”

  The stranger took a deep breath and planted his spear in the ground beside him. He faced Seri with a stern gaze.

  “Because I’m the King of Antises!”

  CHAPTER EIGHTY

  MARSHAL HAD NO idea if he could beat this enemy. He had no idea what he was even doing here. At this point, however, he was a little more concerned with stopping his fall. He threw bursts of power out, hoping to stabilize his tumbling, but with nothing for them to push against, it did little good.

  Instead of resisting, he turned into the fall, eventually righting himself to the point he was falling face-down. The ground, twisted and broken, rushed to meet him. Now he could use his power. He pointed down and blasted at the ground, hoping to slow his descent as he had back at the temple. He was falling m
uch further and faster this time, but the principle was the same. He slowed and turned feet-first.

  By the time he came to a rough landing that jarred all his joints, he had carved out a new crater in this devastated plain. He climbed a few steps to look out. His arc would have taken him out over Lake Litanu, wouldn’t it? But Marshal saw no water in any direction. Could this land be devoid of water, also?

  He had no more time to think about it. Curasir blasted into the ground a few feet away, using a similar technique to his own landing.

  Immediately, Marshal unleashed his own power at his opponent. He marveled again at the simplicity of using his power, but winced, as well. His hands and forearms pulsed with pain, much like the first time he had experimented with this power, weeks ago.

  Curasir held up a hand and used his own power to block Marshal’s. The earth erupted around him, flinging dirt and rocks in every direction. The longer Marshal persisted, the more the air filled with dust and debris. With a final growl of frustration, he stopped. The pain in his arms was growing. There was a limit to how long he would be able to continue this fight.

  Curasir looked completely unfazed by any of it. “You have such potential, Marshal,” he called. “So unlike your mother, or even your grandfather. Both of them had to be removed to make room for you, of course. You are the one that matters, the one that can change everything.”

  Marshal knew Curasir was taunting him, but he didn’t care. The mention of his mother unlocked new resolve and rage within him. He screamed incoherent syllables and erupted with even more power than his last attack.

  Curasir launched into the sky this time, dodging the attack and flying in an impressive arc further out over the lakebed. Marshal growled and threw himself into the air in pursuit.

  •••••

  “You’re what?” Seri stared at the stranger, mouth agape.

  “I’m the King of Antises,” he repeated. “I’ve been here a long time, but I don’t know how long it’s been in your world. Time doesn’t quite work the same way here, I think.”

  Seri was full of questions. Which King was he? How many generations since the last real King? How had he gotten here? Why hadn’t he returned? Then again, how could she take his word for it? Hadn’t she just uncovered a false King?

  “How can I be sure you are who you say you are?”

  “There’s no time!” The self-proclaimed King looked back to the west. The ground trembled.

  Seri looked too. Whoever the combatants were, they were throwing out tremendous bursts of power. She could see that much even without her star-sight.

  She turned back and found the King standing right beside her. She gasped and stepped back. How had he moved so fast?

  “Listen to me!” he pleaded. “I know you can’t fully understand. But there’s a man fighting over there–” He pointed westward. “–who is the key to saving everything and everyone.”

  Seri glanced that way again. “I don’t know what I can do,” she said. “If I had my star-sight…”

  The King suddenly had his hand in front of her face. “Curinir!” he said firmly.

  Seri felt a tingle swirl around her left eye. She blinked several times. When the King removed his hand, she could see… everything. Beams of light swirled about, emerging from the ground below and re-entering it. The Otherworld had suddenly become infinitely more colorful.

  “Out there.” The King stood behind her and pointed over her shoulder.

  She looked at the fighters again. With the star-sight, they now dominated the landscape, two miniature suns throwing swirls of light at each other. She had difficulty making out much more than that at this distance. They had to be several miles away, at least.

  “I can’t tell–” she began.

  “Look closer.”

  As if her eyes reacted to the King’s command, she suddenly felt like as though she were only a few hundred yards from the combatants. She could see them clearly.

  One of them was impossibly tall and immediately familiar. “Curasir!” His skin appeared as it had the last time she had seen him on this side - dark, absorbing all colors. At the back of her mind, she connected it with the splotches on the King’s skin. He glowed with tremendous power, rivaled only by his opponent.

  The other appeared human, a young man. His power glowed with such brilliance Seri couldn’t tell anything else about him. He clearly possessed a Lord’s power, and… something else. That was odd. No other power had ever glowed in that particular way, though it was difficult to make out. She started to turn toward the King, wanting to see his power.

  He grabbed her head on both sides and aimed it back at Curasir and the boy. “Look at them!” he commanded. “Look at the sources of their power!”

  •••••

  Marshal slammed into the ground again. His landings were improving, but every time he did, it jarred all of his joints. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up.

  Another blast from Curasir struck him before he was ready. Something cracked inside and he wheeled about before slamming into the side of the new crater he had just created. He rolled over and saw the towering form of Curasir striding toward him. He lifted a hand and blasted power outward. Curasir appeared to casually deflect the blast with his sword. Apparently, he could use it for more than channeling his own power. Marshal wished Talinir had taught him that trick.

  Curasir pointed the sword at him. “Come, let us end this. You have no hope.”

  “Nyargh!” Marshal tried to blast again with similar results. His power seemed to be weakening along with his body.

  Curasir shook his head. “You just got your tongue and that’s the best you can do? Pathetic.” Curasir hit him with a blast of power that slammed him back into the dirt. Marshal groaned and tried to get back up. Curasir hit him again.

  “Now that your mother has done what was needed, with my help, we can proceed with your true purpose. You can join us willingly, or we will just take you. Your compliance is desired, but not necessary. I would prefer that you work with us. It will be glorious, Marshal. Glorious.”

  While Curasir spoke, Marshal concentrated on focusing all of his power into his left arm. Thus far, he had been blindly releasing bursts of power without any real thought. Maybe a more concentrated burst would accomplish more. He gritted his teeth and lifted his arm.

  The power erupted from his hand and Marshal screamed in agony. He felt finger bones breaking. The blast caught Curasir by surprise and knocked him off his feet. He dropped his sword as he was thrown back through clouds of dust and stone. He tumbled out of Marshal’s sight.

  With a moan, Marshal tried to get to his feet. The pain in his side blossomed, he stumbled, and fell again. He tried to catch himself with only his right hand and failed, striking his head on a rock. The pain of impact paled in comparison to the agony that cascaded through his broken hand merely from brushing it against the ground.

  He rolled with a whimper and saw Curasir’s sword only a few feet away. Holding his left hand against his chest, he crawled on his remaining hand and knees toward it. Blood poured down his face and mixed with tears that fell outside his conscious control. His shredded clothes provided no protection to his knees that scraped on the rocky ground with every movement. He choked on the thick dust and tried to spit.

  The sword was so close. He could make out something carved into the gold on the pommel, a flying creature of some kind.

  “I’ll take that.” Curasir reached down and picked up the sword just as Marshal reached for it.

  •••••

  Seri frowned and looked again. As she had already seen, the young man’s power came from within, like the Lords, even though there was something else to it she could not identify. Curasir, however… He was drawing power from somewhere else. Hundreds of beams of light streamed into him like a giant umbilical cord, moving with him wherever he went. She followed the cord from Curasir until it passed almost right past her.

  “He’s drawing the power
of Zes Sivas to himself!”

  “Exactly. He’s been killing the Masters to free up more of the island’s power.” The King’s voice sounded grim. “But you can do something about that.”

  She probably could. But should she? “I don’t know the boy,” she said. “I know Curasir, and I don’t trust him, but how do I know the other guy is any better?”

  The King spun Seri’s head around and she found herself looking him directly in the eyes. Power like she had never seen glowed within them. Why didn’t he act himself? Why…? “I cannot reveal myself here,” he whispered. “The danger is too great. But you can act. You can save him.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE

  MARSHAL ROLLED ONTO his back and tried to stop crying. Everything hurt so much.

  Curasir’s silhouette blocked out the stars above him. “I believe that’s enough now,” he said. “It was a valiant effort, but you’ve lost. You can’t even fight any more.” He glanced up as if hearing something. “Come, the tunaldi will be investigating if we stay here long. In your condition, you wouldn’t last long against one of them. Now, one last time. Will you give me your power?”

  Marshal fought to control his breath. His power swirled about inside him, as if it didn’t know what to do after being used so much. It felt so wrong, so unfair, to fail so completely now. After all they had been through, the journey, the Eldanim, the assassin, and then… Aelia. All of it to bring him here to be defeated, his power used to destroy Antises? Was this the purpose his mother had wanted for him?

  “No,” he whispered. No. She had loved him, had wanted to give her life for him. He had a greater purpose somewhere. He could feel his power building up again, not that it had helped so far.

  •••••

  Seri turned back to Curasir’s power flow. She reached out and grasped the most powerful beam of light and pulled it away. But there were hundreds! She couldn’t do that to all of them. Instead, she took the one beam, looped it over all the others and pulled. The pressure against her was enormous. Almost immediately, she felt some kind of resistance feeding back into her own body, draining her strength. She staggered and almost let it go.