Falls

by Melinda Kucsera

  I feel the conflict within you, boy. And he fed it, widening the crack in the spells hiding this ‘Sarn.’ A mind divided cannot hope to stand against me.

  Through the wall the Adversary flew, beating his massive wings as he followed where that line led.

  Hold tight, boy, I’m coming for you, and I’ve got just what you need—a jolt of darkness and lies. Come to the dark side, my time is nigh!

  “Get down!” Nulthir knocked Agalthar and Huwain down as that damned black thing flew overhead again. It’d flown more than a half-dozen circuits before he’d lost count. What could you possibly be looking for? Everyone's coming to you.

  “What is that thing?”

  As Agalthar popped up from behind the collapsed column to watch the creature fly away, a six-pointed star blazed on his chest then it faded. It was one of the many symbols Nulthir had seen flare up on the people he passed in this never-ending hellhole. Beside him, Huwain made the sign of the cross, and that symbol shined on his chest.

  Out of the dozen Guards Nulthir had led down here, only six were left. All were marked by glowing religious symbols except him. Instead, the rune against tampering, both mental and spiritual, flickered over his base chakra. It was one of a dozen she’d marked him with at birth, making him wonder if his mother had somehow foreseen this.

  Before he could get mired in his parental issues, and their plans for him, plans he had no interest in seeing come to fruition, he scanned the people shuffling past for his missing Guards. Nulthir held up his pendant. It was a mess of interlocking curves forming the old runic word for dawn, but its shimmering rune-light saved them from pitch darkness.

  So far no one had commented on it. But once this crisis ended, he’d have to confiscate it because magical items were illegal. And I’m the captain of the Guards. Upholding the law is my job. Nulthir shook his head at the irony of his sudden appointment. Not too long ago, he was a third-shift prison Guard. Now, look at me. I’m still skulking around the bowels of this place.

  “Is that Lurston?” Huwain pointed to a slender man with a gray streak running through his black hair.

  “It might be.” Nulthir pushed to his feet, but Huwain and Agalthar shoved him down.

  “We’ll get him. You stay here.”

  The two Guards pushed into the slow-moving crowd, and it swallowed them. After a few minutes, they returned carrying a third man.

  “We got ‘em. But we had to knock him out. Huwain tried crossing him, but it didn’t work.”

  “Agalthar tried a few things too but—” Huwain shook his head.

  They lifted Lurston over the three-foot-wide column and set him down just as he started thrashing.

  “I must go. The Father calls.” Lurston’s eyes opened, but they showed only the whites of his eyes like all the others.

  “You need to settle down. You can resolve your daddy issues after we get through this crisis.” Agalthar pushed Lurston down when he tried to rise.

  “Cap’n, can you do anything?” Huwain gestured to the rune-light.

  Can I? Nulthir shrugged then felt around for something to write with until he spotted a puddle. Let there be mud. And there was. It was grayish and grainy, but it would do the job. So, he copied the rune he hoped was keeping his mind clear of manipulation on Lurston’s forehead.

  As he drew the last line, a shadow flew toward him. It was too small to be the creature that’d passed by before. He threw his arm up at the last moment and claws bit into his leather gauntlet. Those needle-thin claws retracted so the creature could walk up his arm using its fingers and opposable thumbs. Once Thing One settled on his shoulder, his prehensile tail threaded between Nulthir’s arm and his side, giving his odd-looking pet a third point of stability.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked Thing One.

  Needed to know you’re okay. Bad things in the air. Thing One fluffed out his fur.

  He was a cross between an owl, a bat, a cat and whatever other animal had frolicked in that pool of stagnant magic. Nulthir had found Thing One when he was a small child. So small, the only name he could come up with for the creature was ‘Thing.’ But the name had stuck. Since Thing was adorable and harmless, his parents had allowed him to keep the fuzzy, owl-eyed creature, and they’d been together ever since.

  When Thing found a mate, he became Thing One. She took the name ‘Thing Two' because the moniker had amused her. By the time their first brood came along, they’d learned enough Shayarin words to name their children themselves thus releasing Nulthir from that duty.

  Though Thing One and his family were supposed to stay in his apartment, not fly around inside Mount Eredren. This wouldn't be the first time his psychic flatmate had disobeyed that order.

  “Go home. I’ll be there eventually.”

  No, I stay. I make sure the bad thing doesn’t get you. Thing One’s prehensile tail squeezed Nulthir's ribs imitating a one-armed hug.

  “Fine, just don’t crush my ribs. I need them.”

  Thing One relaxed his hold, but his head swiveled three-hundred and sixty degrees, taking it all in. He blinked iridescent owl eyes at the endless throng.

  “Did it work?” Agalthar asked.

  He politely avoided looking at Thing One though his friend knew about his odd menagerie. Likely so did most of the Guards since his pets had dropped in on him during working hours more than once since his elevation to captain.

  Thank Fate, Thing One only speaks mind-to-mind.

  Yes, this is a good way to speak, Thing One said because he read every unguarded thought, but his range was limited to line-of-sight.

  “Well, shouldn’t he wake up now?”

  Indeed, Lurston lay on the pile of broken stones staring at the ceiling. A stalactite dripped on him, and he finally blinked, restoring some sense to his eyes.

  “I think it worked. Good going Captain.” Huwain clapped Nulthir on his back.

  “We just need to find five more of our brothers-in-arms then we can get the hell out of here.” Agalthar shuddered.

  Nulthir nodded. “It’s too bad we can’t liberate everyone at once rather than this piecemeal approach.”

  Nulthir massaged his cramping knees. He’d spent too long crouched here, but they had a good vantage, and some helpful Litherian in ages past had scrawled the rune for safety here. So, the shadowy man-things shepherding the crowd couldn’t attack them if they stayed on this spot.

  There must be some rune powerful enough to free them all. Not prepared to give up, Nulthir scrolled through the runes in his mental library, but he had a limited store of power. Also, he needed a medium to draw the rune on and something to bind it to. So, casting it on the air, which would solve the problem, wouldn’t work. Damn. There had to be something else.

  I should have borrowed more power from that mage-boy. If only I’d known a magical crisis was in the offing.

  “Would holy water work?” Huwain looked sheepish as he withdrew a crystal vial from his inner pocket. It hung on a heavy chain. “It was blessed by a Bishop in—well, I guess where doesn’t matter as long as it was a sacred place.” He held the vial out to Nulthir who shook his head.

  “It’s your God. You do it.”

  “He’s right. It might not work if a nonbeliever tries it. Begging your pardon captain. I meant nothing by that. Just being honest is all.”

  Nulthir waved away any offense, and Agalthar relaxed. “No offense taken. I agree with you.” He gestured for Huwain to give his idea a try.

  “What happened? My head feels like it’s splitting open, and there’s this annoying voice saying— 'come, sinners, thy time is nigh.’” Lurston sat up and rubbed his head. Through his massaging hands, he glanced at his six fellow Guards. “What's a ‘sinner?’”

  “Oh, so that’s what that dark murmur is saying. I’ve been wondering for hours.” Iraine doffed her helm and scratched her sweat-matted afro. Her black skin was festooned with religious symbols, some even sparkled. Knowing Iraine, that was by design.

  Nulthir
nodded to them. “Spiritual insurance?”

  “Yeah, you can’t be too careful. Sins stain your soul, but God bleaches those stains. There’s no such thing as too much God. Besides, all religions boil down to the same three tenets. Following them all ensures my soul will be saved several times over.” Iraine smiled, and it was so infectious, despite their situation, Nulthir echoed it.

  “That’s some philosophy. I’m glad it’s working for you.”

  “You should try it when the evil spirits settle. By the way, I’m glad we have an extra set of eyes.” Iraine leaned forward and gave Thing One a scratch.

  Iraine was one of the Prison Guards Nulthir had elevated when he’d been promoted. Without her sunny disposition and endless store of humor, he might not have lasted this long in the Guards. And he might have gifted his long-time friend a few harmless magical misfits over the years.

  “Maybe you should try since you’re guaranteed to be saved.” Huwain held the vial of holy water out to Iraine, but she shook her head.

  “No, that water was blessed for you. It’ll be more powerful in your hands, but I’ll stand with you and bless them.” Iraine climbed over Lurston and spurred two others who were sealed by the sign of the cross to do likewise.

  “Ready?”

  “On the count of three.”

  “One.”

  Shadows threaded through the crowd brandishing claws.

  “Two.”

  “Hurry! They mean to block you. Bless the crowd!”

  “Three.”

  Come, Children of Light

  “How did you do it? How did you enslave so many?” J.C. stared in horrified fascination. Is sin that powerful? Or is something else at work here? The Adversary can’t have entranced so many by just whispering. He must have some other hold over them.

  J.C. approached the crowd still flowing by in an unending stream, but he stumbled as the cross ground into his shoulder, and his legs quaked with the effort of holding him up. Evil rolled off the Adversary in black waves only perceptible to his divine eyes, and it repelled him. But he trudged toward the sinners he’d come to save spurred by the sparks of rebellion popping and fizzing here and there among the masses.

  They were the seeds of repentance. All they needed was a little light to bloom. Come children of light. Your repentance is in sight.

  “Papa? What’s wrong?”

  Ran’s voice rose in fear stopping J.C. in his tracks. He turned in time to see Sarn slide down a wall still holding his now squirming son.

  “Papa?”

  “Why’s Papa darkening?”

  Ran looked at J.C., his little face pale with fright, and the sight squeezed his heart. Inky fingers stretched out of Sarn’s collar and crawled up the long column of his throat.

  J.C. frowned at them, and his eyes widened in alarm.

  “A mind divided cannot stand against the Adversary. Neither can a heart. So that’s how he did it.” J.C. shook his head, still floored by the realization.

  “What do you mean by ‘divided?’” Ran leaned into his father’s chest and pushed on the moving marks, but not even the soft glow of his little fingers could stop their progress.

  “I don’t understand it either. To be a curse breaker, he had to negate one of the curses he was born under. How could he do that then turn around and reject that power?”

  “You think this ‘Adversary’ person’s doing it, don’t you?”

  J.C. nodded. A white flame guttered inside Sarn. If it snuffed out, he’d lose the ability to break curses.

  “What’s a curse?”

  “It’s a lie.” At Ran’s confused scowl, J.C. elaborated. “To curse someone, you must bind them to a lie. Curse breakers do the opposite—they unmake lies and return everything to true.” J.C. leaned against a wall and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “That’s how the Adversary did it.”

  “Did what?”

  “Slaved so many to his will. Somehow, he brought them all into his darkness and bound them to a lie, but that shouldn’t be possible by just whispering.”

  But things were off-balance here. Something had robbed this place and its people of something intrinsic, and that lack made them vulnerable. What’s missing?

  “Ran, did something happen here recently?”

  “We fought a monster, but we had Bear’s help. Is that what you mean? It had many arms.”

  J.C. considered that until a prayer commanded his attention. Somewhere close by, four Guards blessed the enthralled passersby with a vial of holy water. He raised his hand and magnified their prayer.

  “Come children of light. Your repentance is in sight. I am the light of the world. My light sets all to right. Come children of light. Your repentance is in sight. Free the darkened mind, shine brightly. Give the blind eye right sight. Come children of light. Your repentance is in sight.”

  As he prayed with those Guardsmen and women, his human skin peeled away allowing his divine light to shine in the darkness. It coruscated on those holy drops showering part of the blank-eyed throng. And those the drops dampened woke from the nightmare the Adversary had imprisoned them in, but they were caught in the crowd’s flow and couldn’t escape without being trampled by the thousands in the ranks behind.

  “Papa can’t lie, or break promises, but he can fight monsters. You need Papa’s help.” Ran said, bringing J.C. back to the tunnel and his body.

  His aura receded. If the child noticed, his worried face didn’t show it.

  “What did you say? My mind was miles away. Forgive me.”

  Ran repeated his statement and nodded as if this all made sense to the perceptive boy. No doubt the Adversary seemed like one more monster to defeat. Ran touched the marks aiming for his father’s eyes. Already their glow was dimming.

  “Yes, I can’t intervene unless invited thanks to a covenant your ancestors made with my Father.”

  One corner of his mouth quirked up as more voices added to the prayers winging his way. Each one was an invitation. But the one he needed must come from the young mage trapped between two choices.

  Maybe Sarn could unmake the lie slaving everyone to the Adversary’s will if his beliefs were strong enough. J.C. sagged under the weight of his cross. But Sarn couldn’t do that unless he accepted his magic. Curse breaking was a variant of white magic. Unlike elemental magic, white magic was powered by belief. Before Sarn could do anything with that power, he had to first believe in himself. And that didn't look likely.

  “Can you help him?”

  J.C. shook his head. “Your father doesn’t need help. He needs to decide whether to reject his magic or accept it. Every mage must decide which truth to embrace. All you can do is wait.”

  Thorns bit into his brow and nails pierced his hands and feet, as J.C. pushed off the wall determined to find a crack in the darkness obscuring those entranced souls. Light always found a way, and so would he.

  After all, life was full of loopholes. Sarn and his son were one. There must be others. Even if the Queen of All Trees didn’t think so.

  “I shouldn’t have involved you. I didn’t know you hadn’t faced the Question yet. That’s the price I pay for closing my eyes to the future.”

  As J.C. passed the stricken mage, he laid a hand on Sarn’s head. Sarn looked so young and lost slumped in the Adversary’s invisible grasp. I pray you make the right decision for you and your son.

  Hope still burned in his chest both for mankind and the sinners trapped in the Adversary’s nightmare.

  As J.C.’s spirit stepped out of his body, his divine light illuminated the tunnel, but none of the staring marchers noticed. They filled the tunnel perpendicular to this one.

  J.C.’s spirit flew, and he threw wide his arms to embrace them. Come children of light. Your repentance is in sight. You’re perfect in your imperfections. Forgive yourself for your failings and repent them. Come, and I will give you rest. I bless you, for you are mine, and I am yours. Come children of light. Your repentance is in sight.

  He touched the wedg
e of vacant-eyed people, but the Adversary’s hold over them was too strong. They passed like clouds over the sun of his presence, blind to everything except the lies the Adversary fed them.

  There must be one among them who repents. So, his spirit glided onward through the half-destroyed tunnel leading to a battered shield.

  J.C. didn’t hear a grating sound disturb the quiet nor Ran’s shout of alarm as a metal plate in the ceiling slid aside.

  Dirk rushed through the hole in the shield calling his friends’ names. “Villar? Ragnes? Cris? Gore? Where are you?”

  “They’re down there.”

  The Adversary pointed to the chasm. His body flickered and split. Half of him sprouted wings and flew off while the other half floated at Dirk’s side like an empty, staring vessel. It was disconcerting.

  “Down where? I can’t see anything in this gloom,” Dirk asked, not expecting an answer.

  The Adversary shuddered as he animated. “How weak mortal eyes are.” He held out a clawed hand.

  A ball of light jumped off his palm and floated to Dirk. Before it reached him, it doubled and split, but half of it vanished into a puff of smoke. The other half followed Dirk as he wove around man-sized rocks shaped like teeth, seeking a safe descent into the pit. Behind him, the Adversary stilled again and hung there like a disembodied corpse.

  Maybe he’ll stay that way for a while, so I can save my friends. Dirk suppressed a smile.

  A set of irregular stairs were cut into the stone wall of the chasm by the Litherians. They had no regard for safety, so the stairs had no rail nor any real order. Steps were placed at random. No two were the same width, height or distance from the one before it. The Litherians were the greatest stone mages of their age, but they couldn’t make a decent staircase to save their lives.

  Dirk cursed those ancient builders as he centered his balance and stepped down, but his foot struck a hard object instead of the step. Light cascaded upward, and he screamed as fire seared his foot. Dirk teetered and would have fallen into that killing blaze if a skeletal hand hadn’t seized a handful of his tunic.