Falls

by Melinda Kucsera

  And there was one loose in the hands of an unstable cleric. There were more beneath the shield he’d warped into a killing machine. How many more were there in the pit?

  For the first time in ages, doubt bit him hard, and the Adversary doubled down on the mage he was trying to turn. Curse makers had an affinity for black lumir crystals just as their opposites, curse breakers, had an affinity for black lumir’s antithesis.

  “Mage to mundane, I modify. Take my hand, thy time is nigh. Your magic, I nullify. Take my hand, thy time is nigh,” said the Father of Lies.

  Far below, in the Ægeldar, a life expired, and it distracted the Adversary from his task. He shifted back to that chasm. What have we here?

  Everything that had been the man known as Cris fled his dead body and winged to the Adversary. He caught that dark package of soul energy, pulled it into himself then ripped it out again. In his hands, a black blob waited to be molded into a vessel for his will. After a moment’s reflection, the Adversary spun the ball on his palm and carved it into another wraith.

  When his minion was complete, he set it on the ground and grew it to man-sized, then kissed the empty wraith’s forehead. Into that vessel, he poured his essence until it could hold no more.

  Coughing and spluttering, the finest servant he’d ever created levitated to his feet. A permanent shadow veiled much of Cris’ face, but his eyes were still human, though there was no separation between his pupils and irises anymore.

  “What is thy command, Father of Lies?”

  “Watch and report to me when that shield is about to fall,” said the Adversary as he gestured to the thin sparkling line floating above a bottomless pit.

  Thirteen people leaped off the edge and the shield flared up, ashing them. Their spirits flew past him into his waiting soul trap, and it captured them, adding their soul energy to the growing gray sphere at the heart of his dark web. The Adversary smiled. Soon he'd have enough power to break the seals barring him physically from this world. Then, the real game would begin. Checkmate, Queenie.

  Remembering the young mage he'd left wrestling with himself, he fought down the urge to laugh. His triumph wasn’t assured yet, not while a potential curse breaker still had access to the one type of power that could interfere with his plans.

  “What about my friends,” Cris asked as a remnant of his lost humanity momentarily overcame his infernal existence. “I have a vague memory of them in peril.”

  “They’re better than fine. In fact, I have one of your friends right here.”

  The black flesh on his goat leg bulged as a tiny arm pushed out of that rippling tar-like substance. It broke off and floated into the Adversary’s hands, so he could shape it into another wraith.

  Ragnes should be here to see his triumph. After all, the wraith had told him Sarn’s name. The Adversary let go, and Ragnes floated out of his hands fully formed.

  “What is thy command?” Ragnes asked as he blinked confused black-on-black eyes.

  Having spent more time as a wraith than the newly-made Cris, most of Ragnes’ former self had darkened until he resembled a three-dimensional shadow. Only a few features remained, but his face was a sketch of itself, slowly fading into the anonymity of his brethren. What need did a dead thing have for individuality?

  We’re alike in the fall. The Adversary smiled at his creations until he recalled a third wraith who hadn’t reported in nor completed his task yet. That was strange. His creations couldn’t disobey him, their undead maker.

  “Find Gore and bring him to me. Go”

  Ragnes bowed and blew away on a puff of wind leaving Cris hovering over the shield.

  “You have your instructions. Call me if anything changes.”

  Cris nodded and echoed Ragnes’ bow. “All will be done according to your will.”

  “Good.” The Adversary shifted back to finish the Question and the trap he was weaving for one doubly-gifted mage. Checkmate, indeed.

  Sarn was right where he’d left the mage, conflicted but swaying towards the lie of mundanity. Good. Now to apply some pressure. The Adversary chanted under his breath, keeping his rhyme just below the level of conscious thought, where spells took root.

  “My mark, our bargain signifies. Take my hand, thy time is nigh. Come, sinner, to your dark Father fly. At my side, thy time is nigh.”

  Normalcy was a lie, one he’d enjoy binding Sarn to. When you can’t take it anymore, you’ll beg me to restore your power and I will for a price. You'll be the most powerful curse maker that's ever lived.

  The Queen of All Trees’ spell cracked allowing a glimpse of the doubly-gifted mage reaching for his hand. Just before their hands connected, the Adversary’s vision doubled.

  “Master,” Cris called. “Look through my eyes. See what changes and direct my hands.”

  As those words left his wraith’s mind, the Adversary was both there in the tunnel holding an almost finished spell and in the Ægeldar watching an object sail toward a thin line of white fire.

  “Bear? J.C.? Rat Woman? Someone help me, please!”

  Ran held Papa’s pendant so its light held back the wraiths floating in the black fog bank encircling him. His arm was shaking, but that pendant was all that protected them. He firmed his grip and held it higher.

  “Papa, please wake up!”

  At least the crowd was turning and heading back the way they’d come. So, he was no longer in any danger of being trampled. That must be a good thing. Ran leaned into Papa and propped his tired arm on his shoulder. With his free hand, he gripped J.C.’s pant leg and tugged. It was the only part of him not covered by wraiths.

  “J.C., wake up before the bad things eat your light. J.C., are you here?”

  Light exploded the pile of wraiths. They flew off in every direction revealing a rumpled J.C.

  “Yes, I’m still here Little One. I was just multi-tasking.” He frowned when he noted the skeletal creatures bouncing off the walls and heading in his direction. A black colloidal substance crawled along the ground.

  “What are those things?”

  “Magic-eaters, Bear said they’re wraiths, but they say they’re nulls. I just know they’re bad. Come into the crystal’s light so it can protect you too.”

  Ran swallowed the fear choking him. Papa’s eyes weren’t glowing anymore, but a white flame bobbed deep in their depths. “They ate one of Papa’s magics and Bear’s too. But if that tiny white flame keeps burning, Papa will be okay. He’ll need to—” Ran frowned as he tried to recall the big ‘r-word’ Bear had used earlier.

  “Recuperate?”

  Ran nodded. “And eat something.”

  In fact, dinner sounded like a great plan. Ran poked his father in the ribs with his free hand.

  J.C. stepped close and examined the stone. When Ran tried to hand it to him, his fingers refused to let go.

  “No, I think you need to hold it. This crystal has some special properties, and they’re keyed to you and your father.”

  “Why won’t Papa wake up?”

  “He will. The Question takes time to administer. Both sides can call in ‘witnesses’ to testify then it’s up to your father to decide which way he’ll turn—toward magic or away.”

  “But they’ll hurt him if he doesn’t come back soon.”

  Ran nodded to the wraiths pacing around the edge of the crystal’s nimbus, and the thickening black mist shrouding the ground. Both wanted to pounce on them.

  “I think they have to wait until he decides, but I'm not sure about that. I haven't dealt with many mages before.”

  “When you went away before, did you see any bear spirits?”

  “No, but I found a terrible wrong I need to right.” J.C. looked where the crowd had gone.

  “Please don’t leave me alone again.” Ran tried to suppress the quaver in his voice, but failed, so he turned his face into his father’s chest. Why won’t you wake up, Papa?

  J.C. rubbed his back. “I won’t. I've done what I can. Their salvation’s in morta
l hands now. I pray he makes the right decision. I’m sorry about before. I’m not omniscient.”

  “Neither is Bear.”

  “You’ll have to introduce me to him. He sounds like quite a character.”

  Ran nodded. If Bear ever showed up again, he would. “You and Bear would like each other.” Ran looked at his stuffed companion lying forlorn several feet away. “Why did you abandon me Bear? Did I do something wrong?”

  J.C. picked up Bear and wiped the dust off his button eyes. “I’m sure you didn’t do anything. There’s a lot happening. More than I’d realized. Your Bear might be helping someone else. Someone who doesn’t have your father or me to look after him.”

  Oh, well that was a reason Ran could understand. It didn’t make Bear’s absence hurt any less, though. I still wish Bear was here. Ran kept that selfish desire to himself, but J.C.'s dark eyes softened as if he’d spoken that wish aloud. Ran sniffed and reached for Bear. His fuzzy friend might not be able to talk anymore, but he was still huggable, and Ran needed a hug right now. But J.C. wasn’t finished with him yet.

  With a flourish, J.C. produced a ribbon as silver as Rat Woman’s eyes and looped it around Bear’s thick neck. It shined in the crystal light like the Queen of All Trees’ bark.

  “Not too tight, Bear has to breathe.”

  “Right you are.”

  J.C. smiled and tied the ribbon with care. When he finished, light skipped over Bear’s fur restoring him. It faded as J.C. handed Ran the new and improved version of Bear.

  “There, now he’s got a proper home to return to. I spruced it up a little. Teddy bears tend to recuperate slowly. Let’s keep that just between the two of us, okay?” J.C. winked and Ran nodded as he added another secret to his collection.

  “Thank you.” Ran gave Bear a one-armed hug and smiled when the crystal light made Bear’s ribbon sparkle. But thinking about Bear made Ran sad, so he changed the subject. “Where’d you go before?”

  “I took a page from the enemy’s playbook and tempted a repenting soul to help us. Since the Adversary is acting through human agents, I must too.”

  “How’d you do that?” Ran sat up, interested in the conversation.

  “By appearing to him, though I couldn’t split my essence enough to fully manifest. There’s too much darkness here, and it feeds the Adversary, strengthening his power and weakening mine. I pray I got through.”

  J.C. winced as the cross leaned hard against his back and almost drove him to his knees. Faces appeared in the wood, wailing in agony then they vanished, and Papa stirred.

  “Papa!”

  Forgetting their danger, Ran dropped the pendant. Darkness pounced on him, and skeletal hands seized his arms. Ran fought them until a pair of strong arms enfolded him.

  Papa held him tight. “I’ve got you.”

  “But who’s got you?” Ran asked right before the fog bank rolled over him.

  Without the Right Tools

  The rock struck the Queen of All Trees’ shield and it winked out. Thirteen men and women plummeted into the pit toward peals of laughter.

  “Thanks for the sacrifice.”

  “They aren’t for you,” the Adversary said through his finest creation yet—the wraith once known as ‘Cris.’

  “What is thy command?” Cris asked.

  “Catch those who fall. Let none reach the beast in the pit. They aren’t for him.”

  “Yes, master.”

  As Cris dove into the pit, a set of super-sized vulture wings erupted from his back, and the world blurred.

  The Adversary jumped out of the wraith’s mind into Dirk’s. Donning the conman’s body like an ill-fitting suit, he pulled on the store of magic everyone in this country possessed and drove those about to jump back from the edge.

  “Flee sinners, live free of my lies. Away from your dark Father fly! Flee sinners, live free of my lies. I command you, comply. Flee sinners, live free of my lies.”

  The crowd halted and regarded their surroundings with confused eyes. At least they weren’t marching off the edge anymore. No sacrifices for you, creature of the pit. Not today.

  Cris shot out of the pit with thirteen still-living souls clinging to his body.

  “Set them on the precipice. Urge them to flee.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  Cris banked his wings and dropped off his human cargo. They didn’t need any persuading to run for their lives, but they moved a fraction of a second too slow. Tentacles shot out of the pit and seized them. Cris freed two of them, but it was no good. More and more tentacles sailed toward the precipice and those still fleeing.

  “Come to me,” the Adversary recalled his wraith and turned Cris toward the real prize—the soul trap. “Guard it. I’ll be right back.”

  Dirk collapsed, knocking the Adversary out of his body. He’d drained the lout. Damn, I need more magic. The blinking conman vanished under a wave of black just when he was starting to come around.

  “No! It’s too soon. The Question hasn’t finished yet.”

  The Adversary shifted back to the tunnel where he’d left Sarn, but it wasn’t far enough. The black lumir’s nullifying essence had engulfed the tunnel, and something had changed. That boy was veiled by the Queen of All Trees’ spell again. Damn it.

  But how could that be? The black lumir crystal’s touch should have shattered that spell. What was it tied to—black lumir’s antithesis?

  I must have that mage. He must be here somewhere. The Adversary felt around until his hand touched flesh. Sarn’s magic was gone—well, the elemental part of his magic. The curse breaking one was still there but barred from use by the unfinished Question.

  If the black lumir crystal sucked in enough magic, would its nullification field grow strong enough to affect other types of magic, like the primal forces—white and black magic or the forces of creation and destruction? One of those powered his soul trap.

  The Adversary ripped another thorn from his side to anchor one last spell—if he could get it to take root.

  “This isn’t over yet, boy.” The Adversary seized Sarn and forced the thorn down his throat. “Magic-stealer, take his light. Live ‘till again we’ve shared slights. My mark binds you to this plight: life you’ll have while you feel my bite.”

  Thank the devil, black magic isn’t affected by that damned black lumir crystal’s nullifying touch yet. But for how long would that exclusion last?

  It was time to collect his soul trap and go. His mission was accomplished. Later, he'd finish things with Sarn if the young man survived.

  No mundanity for you, my lamb. That was never in the cards. The Adversary patted Sarn’s cheek then let go. He shifted back to the Ægeldar just in time to see invisible fingers pluck at his soul trap.

  No! The Adversary stepped from the mortal plane to the spirit one—where the souls he'd trapped milled around in their spherical prison. Below them, a baby cyclone swirled, picking up speed as it ate the magic flowing into its nullifying heart. And there, approaching Mount Eredren from the north was the epicenter of an enormous vortex generated by that damned priestess what's her name’s black lumir crystal. What would happen when the two fronts collided on the spiritual and magical planes?

  What the hell are you doing, girlie? You’re supposed to destroy the enchanted forest not interfere with my plans.

  Grinding his teeth in frustration, the Adversary cast about and located the last two souls he owned. They were at the bottom of the pit for some reason. Dropping into the pit, he stepped past the twisted lie maintaining the Ægeldar's unlife and ripped Villar’s and Dirk’s souls from their dying bodies. It's time you proved your worth.

  Shaping the fools into wraiths took only a moment. Stripping away their memories took longer, but he was tired of the charade and blank slates didn't ask questions about their former mates. He tossed his newly-minted minions into the air when he was satisfied with them. Later he could fill in the gaps. Right now, he needed eyes on that damned priestess and some way to convince her t
o go away for a while.

  Their wings snapped out as both wraiths struggled to get the hang of their new bodies.

  “What is thy command,” they asked in unison.

  “You, go help, Cris. Do what he commands.” He pointed to Villar, and the shadow flew upward. “You, locate this woman and call me.”

  The Adversary sent Dirk an image of Aralore and impressed his will on the wraith. When Dirk took off in search of her, he carried a piece of the Adversary with him, making their connection so strong, he could see out of Dirk’s dark-enhanced eyes, hear through his augmented ears and take over his flying vessel when he saw a familiar shape creeping along the Seekers' back trail.

  Checkmate, my dear. The Adversary smiled as his plans shifted back on track.

  When something tugged his son away from the shelter of his arms, Sarn tightened his grip and kicked out. His foot struck something hard and sent it flying. Sarn opened his eyes to a familiar black mist. He was neck-deep in it with the most important person in his life huddled in his arms.

  Needing to be held, Ran curled into him, returning his embrace with all his might, and Sarn shifted so his back was to the grasping things. Ran was now safe between him and the wall.

  After being tried in the court of magic, Sarn needed to just hold his son and work out what the hell was happening because he'd missed something during his mental absence. But everything from before the ‘Question’ was more than a bit hazy until white light stabbed at the mist, pushing it back. Everything finally clicked—someone exposed a black lumir crystal to the air. Who would do such a stupid thing?

  One name leaped to mind—Dirk and his cronies. Sarn reached for his head map to search for that worthy’s icon, but it didn't spawn. The black lumir crystal must have knocked it out. Damn. I should do something about that before it drains me any further.

  Sarn freed a hand and the pendant hanging around his neck flew into his palm. Its light carved out a clear space free of the magic-stealing mist and those annoying wraiths. It also cleared out some of the cobwebs in his mind.