Spell Breaker
Page 1
Spell Breaker
Legends of the Fallen Book 2
J.A. Culican
H.M. Gooden
Spell Breaker © copyright 2019 J.A. Culican
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without the express written consent from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review. Trademark names appear throughout this book. Rather than trademark name, names are used in an editorial fashion, with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.
The information in this book is distributed on an “as is” basis, without warranty. Although every precaution has been taken in preparation of this work, neither the author nor the publisher shall have any liability to any person or entity with respect to any loss or damage caused or alleged to be caused directly or indirectly by the information contained in this book.
The characters, locations, and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarities or resemblance to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
ISBN-13: 978-1-949621-06-8
ISBN-10: 1-949621-06-5
Dragon Realm Press
www.dragonrealmpress.com
Created with Vellum
For all our readers who lost themselves in the world of Lynia.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
About the Author
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
“I’ll find you.”
Dag'draath’s chilling voice echoed through the hallway, barely audible over the sound of my heels clicking on the concrete prison floor as I ran, turning my head to see if he was behind me.
No one was there.
A small grey door appeared to my left. Quickly, I tried the handle, heart leaping as it turned. Darting in, I sought refuge on the other side, and closed the door. Leaning on it briefly, my hand over my heart, I willed it to slow as my eyes closed. Meticulously I breathed rhythmically to the count of three, grateful when the beat eased to a more manageable speed.
I was in control of my body again.
Turning slightly, I placed my ear against the door and strained to hear what was happening on the other side. Silence greeted my efforts. Barely breathing, I waited until I was certain I was alone. My eyes swept over the dark room. The only light I could discern came through a large crack in the wall, perhaps created during a prison revolt. In any event, I was happy to have it.
Moving away from the darkness, I paced back and forth, turning my head from side to side until I became familiar with the room and its contents. Dust covered every surface, as if I was the first person to be here in years. I ran my finger along the top of a table, stopping when my shin connected with a wooden box below. I knelt and slid it out.
I took a moment to examine it, still uncertain about my safety, but anxious for any possible clues. It was about two feet in size, composed of a dark wood which was difficult to make out in the dim light. I lifted its top. The darkness made it impossible to see what was inside, so I reached in.
My fingers brushed something cold and round. I flinched reflexively before I extended them again. It was too heavy to lift with one hand, but I was already committed. Adding the other hand, I reached beneath the object and lifted.
The scant light bounced off a glass ball, reflecting around to illuminate more of the room. The place had clearly been deserted for a long time and I shuddered.
I placed the ball on top of another box close to the hole in the wall, placing it objectively for use as a light source to explore the room more fully. Grabbing a cloth, I had spotted draped over a nearby chair, I stuffed it into the crack at the bottom of the door to keep light from escaping and potentially giving away my location.
On the right side of the room stood a large cabinet with its door blocked by a large rock and various other objects near the base. As quietly as possible, I removed the smaller items around the rock. There was a reason this cabinet had been secured, and I wanted to find out. I leaned over, trying to slide the rock across the floor since it was far too large to lift.
I pushed with everything I had, but it didn’t budge. Why hadn’t I been blessed magic? Or even muscles? I gritted my teeth, placing one foot on the rock and my back against the wall, and grunted as I tried to use the wall to my advantage.
To my surprise, the rock moved an inch, maybe two. I got back into position and tried again. This time the rock moved enough to give me enough space to open the door wide enough to peek at the contents inside the cabinet.
I lifted the latch and the door came free. I pushed it open until it couldn’t go any farther due to the rock, but now the door blocked the ball’s light. The interior was a yawning pit of darkness.
Squirming a little, I gathered the courage to reach my hand inside. “Don’t be ridiculous. Nothing inside will hurt you. You just did the same thing with the box and it was totally fine.”
I let out a deep breath, leaning forward, and I stuck my arm past the edge of the door into the abyss of the cabinet.
At first, I felt nothing.
I advanced my fingers, groping for something I could pull out. “Ouch.”
I yanked my hand back. Blood dripped to the floor, falling from a deep cut my index finger from whatever it had touched.
Using the thumb and forefinger from my good hand to apply pressure, I managed to use my other fingers to release the pouch hanging from my waist. I shook the contents over the cut and used the heat from my hand to form a seal over the injury.
I’d been practicing since freeing Beru. I wouldn’t take the chance of becoming injured and being unable to heal myself while I dreamwalked again.
The rock was going to have to move farther to allow light inside the cupboard. I hoisted myself against the wall and shoved the rock a good foot—in the wrong direction. I swung my head back, cracking it hard on the wall.
I needed a new plan.
I moved to the other side of the cabinet, placed my hands on the floor, pressed my back against the wall and pushed. It moved—in the right direction. I pushed again and the door was free.
Jumping to my feet I placed my hand on the edge and hesitated. My nerves revved and I forced them back down.
I swung the door open.
“Aria, it’s time to get up. It’s awkward trying to entertain Beru without you.” Gavin’s voice boomed as he entered my bedroom.
I shot up in my bed, disoriented by the daylight streaming onto the bed. I blinked slowly, and as my surroundings came into clearer focus, I realized I was home, in my bedroom on my parent’s farm.
“Were you dreamwalking?” Gavin wheeled himself over to my bed.
“Yes.”
“Did you find it?”
“No, but I think I’m getting close.”
I sat up and swung my legs over the side of my bed, letting the warmth of the bright sun cover me. I closed my eyes and b
athed in it momentarily.
“Get dressed. Food is on the table.” He turned and wheeled himself out of my room.
I stood up, stretched my arms, and cracked my neck. It was good to be home. To see Damour and Vinsha, their baby, Brock, and my parents. Most of all, I’d succeeded in keeping my promise to Damour—I’d brought Gavin home.
I slipped into comfortable clothes, intending to work the fields with Father after breakfast. Arriving in the great room, I watched Damour scramble eggs as Vinsha bounced Brock on her knee and Mother rubbed his back. Father sat at the table, already eating with Gavin. My eyes swept the room, searching for the other person who should be at the table.
“He’s outside.” Father pointed toward the door with his fork, then returned to his meal.
Smiling, I practically bounced toward the door, unable to hide my pleasure at being home again. I’d dreamt about this moment for many moons. I swung the door open and stepped outside, gazing joyfully at my childhood home.
Beru sat by the firepit with his head low, his ghostly pale skin now slightly burnt from the suns it hadn’t seen for centuries.
“Did you eat?”
“Yes, thank you. Your family has been gracious to me.”
“You’re welcome here. Always.”
Beru glanced up long enough for our eyes to meet. His dark brown eyes were rimmed red and when he blinked and looked away.
I knew he’d been crying.
He poked at the fire, adding brush to avoid further eye contact. “Did you dreamwalk?”
“Yes. I didn’t find anything yet.” I moved close enough to toss a handful of brush into the fire. “Father have you on brush duty?”
“I offered.” The corners of his lips turned up in a half smile, his eyes darting toward me, then back down.
Poor Beru.
Father had kept him busy with work since the moment we’d stepped foot on the farm. Idle hands equal wickedness, he always said. My family wasn’t happy I’d brought him here. It had taken much discussion before they’d reluctantly agreed he could stay—for now.
“I know you’d rather be anywhere but here. To finally be out prison just to be stuck on a farm—”
“I like it just fine.” He reached out, placing his hand on my arm.
For a moment I could only blink at the sight of his callused hand against my arm, surprised he’d touched me to respond. I cleared my throat and smiled nervously as I pulled away, gesturing to the house.
“Okay. I’m going back in for some grub. Care to join me for seconds?”
“I’m fine right here. Go be with your family.”
I nodded, swallowing back a lump in my throat.
He may finally be out of prison, but he had nothing to go back home for.
I’d walked all the way to the house before I glanced back and caught him staring.
He’d been watching me leave.
I gave him a wave and continued to the house, wondering what he was thinking.
“Your plate is getting cold,” Damour chided as I stepped into the dining room.
I smiled my thanks as I slipped into my seat, attacking the food in front of me. I still hadn’t become reaccustomed to hot food and didn’t think I’d stop being amazed by how much better it tasted than cold meat and bread on the trail.
“I ate your ham.” Gavin wheeled out of my reach when I threatened him with a swat.
“There’s more.” Damour placed a large plate of ham in the middle of the table, shaking his head at Gavin’s mischievous expression.
“I’m off to the fields. I’ll take that one with me.” My father pointed his chin to the door.
I’d noticed he seemed to be trying to separate Beru from me as much as he could. I hadn’t mentioned it and wondered if he had noticed as well.
“You be nice to that boy,” Mother scolded him as she helped into his work overcoat.
He scoffed. “He’s no boy.”
“You hold your tongue with him,” she called out as he left.
He slammed the door, the rusted hinges groaning in objection of the treatment.
“Wonder what that’s all about?” Damour winked.
“What do you mean?” I sat straighter, unsure if I wanted him to reply or not.
“Enough. None of us know what it’s been like for him. Until he shows us disrespect, you will all treat him with kindness.” She gave us a warning look before sitting back down at the table and reaching for a piece of ham.
“He’s taken to Brock,” Vinsha interjected softly, placing the baby on the floor.
Brock crawled over to Mother and she picked him up, cooing down at her pride and joy. He was never on the floor long with her around, much to Vinsha’s dismay.
“He needs to crawl, Mother.” She took Brock and placed him back on the floor—farther from his grandmother this time.
“He’ll catch a cold from that dirty floor.”
“Mother.” Damour turned from the stove, his eyebrows furrowed slightly.
“I can tell I’m not needed here.” She stomped across the room and shoved her feet into her boots. “I’ll be in the fields.”
“Mother.” Damour called after her as the door slammed again.
“What’s with her?” I placed my fork on the empty plate which he filled with more eggs before I could protest.
“She’s called Brock ‘Harov’ a couple times.” He sat across from me, a sad look on his face as he loaded his plate with ham.
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He jammed a large piece of ham in his mouth.
“Do you think it’s what Grandpa had?”
He jammed more meat in his mouth as he looked toward me, his narrowed eyes and full mouth clear indicators he didn’t want to have this conversation.
“I’m going to put him down,” Vinsha picked Brock up and snuggled him as she crooned a tune, leaving the room.
“What are you going to do with him?”
“Beru?” I turned to Damour, surprised.
“Have you brought anyone else home?”
I raised an eyebrow at his broad sarcasm. “Not yet.”
“Seriously, how long is he going to be staying?”
“I’m not sure. I need him in case…” I stopped myself before I said what everyone was thinking.
“Until the others all leave.”
“They don’t know about the tear. No one is looking yet.”
“They know he left? That he’s not hiding somewhere?” He filled his plate with another round of eggs and ham, looking at me sideways.
“Yes.” I finished the last bite of food on my plate, chewing slowly as I avoided his gaze.
He blamed me as the others did. They didn’t understand why I couldn’t leave him there or send him back in once I freed him.
“It’ll all work out.”
“You think so?”
“Sure. They haven’t gotten out. The longer it is, the less likely they will look for a way out.”
“I’m not upset with what I did, but I’m afraid of what could happen if…” I put my hands in my lap, uncertain he would understand what I meant without having seen what the prison was like.
“You mustn’t worry until something happens. They have no reason to believe they could also be freed. It will work out.” He stood and took our plates to the sink.
“So, what do I do with Beru until then?” I got up from the table and walked over to help with the dishes.
“Don’t worry. Father will work him to death.” He laughed as he clanked the dishes in the sink.
I threw a towel toward him, lifting myself onto the counter as I looked at him. “I’m serious.”
“It’s not up to you. He has to choose what he wants to do. Anyone with eyes can see he feels duty-bound to you for freeing him." He placed a pot of water on the stove to boil.
I watched his efficient movements absently as I swung my legs back and forth. “He has no duty to me.”
“So why hasn’t he left already?”
I g
lanced toward the window. If I had to guess, it was because he had nowhere else to go. No matter what my brother thought, I knew I needed him more than he needed me. One day, Dag'draath would find the tear, and he and all his most depraved soldiers would be freed from prison.
And it would be all my fault.
Chapter 2
“One, two, three…”
I often counted when anxiety overcame me. Yes, even warriors get anxious. When you’re about to knock on the door of the woman who threw you out of her home the last time you saw her, it’s wise to be nervous.
Especially when that woman was Mother Ofburg.
Sleep had been elusive the night before, as the many ways my visit could go danced through my head. Maybe time had healed her anger, and she wouldn’t slam the door in my face the second she saw me.
But when I stepped up on her front stoop, the door swung open before I could knock, and my hand dropped.
From the look on her face, it was clear time had not healed all. “What are you doing here?” She swept dust directly into my face.
“I need to talk to you.” I stepped back, coughing as the dust hit the back of my throat.
“Nothing you can say will change my opinion of you.”
Her stout frame blocked the entrance into the house, and she brandished her broom like a staff in front of her, blocking me from pushing past into the house, not that I was crazy enough to even consider it.
“Please.” I hated to beg, but I needed her guidance to help me get back to my normal life. I wanted to be a healer. I needed to. After what I’d seen, healers were going to be needed more than ever.
“I have no time for deceit.” She slammed the door shut, the harsh click of a lock sliding into place emphasizing her words.