Spell Breaker

by J. A. Culican

  “Tell him yourself.” I stood, unwilling to take sides even though Harov’s monosyllabic responses were starting to wear on me. While I hated he had deserted us, I’d always felt there was more to the story. And after the past few months, I was in no place to judge anyone.

  Damour threw a piece of wood onto the fire. “Tell him we don't need his help.”

  “We don't need your help,” I repeated, moving into the living area to watch them interact from a more comfortable perch.

  “You do need my help. I know it will take time, but I'm here for the family now.” He stood and walked over to Damour. “You’ve got every right to be mad. But don't let your ego hurt the farm.”

  “Hurt the farm? What do you know about our farm? You haven't been here to work the fields in many years.” Damour brushed past him—hard.

  “We could use the help around here,” I interjected.

  “So, what? I have to babysit Beru and now this idiot?”

  I needed to get away from them and everyone. I was tired of defending Beru and no one listening. I stood and walked down the hall, leaving them to figure things out for themselves.

  When I got to my room, I pulled out the stone Astor had given me. It shone brightly even without the suns making it sparkle. I ran my fingers over its smooth edges, intrigued by the craftsmanship. As I pulled my hand away, a zap of energy followed, causing the faintest sound of crackling in the air.

  I placed the stone carefully on my night table, worried just by holding it I might already be connected to Runa. But it sat on the table, inanimate, and I snorted at my crazy thought. Lying back on the bed, I turned my head to make sure it hadn't budged, then looked up at the ceiling. Should I tempt fate?

  Surely another dreamwalker wouldn’t want to hurt me. If she’d been chosen as the next dreamwalker for the Western March, she’d likely been handpicked by Svan. What harm could come from a dream meeting with her?

  I reached over, grabbing the stone before I could change my mind, and placed it on my stomach. I had no idea how to use it to connect with her, but assumed contact was important. I closed my eyes and let my mind wander to the Western March.

  I immediately sank into a deep dreamwalk, finding myself in a large white room surrounded by windows. My feet carried me to the center of the room where two large white pillows had been placed on the floor across from each other. I sat down on one of them and crossed my legs.

  As I waited my mind raced.

  Was it a trick?

  No.

  No one could convince Astor to trick me intentionally, and he was too smart to be tricked into something that could hurt me.

  I closed my eyes, already beginning to regret coming. Maybe I could get back to the farm before anyone noticed I was walking.

  “Thank you for meeting me.” Her disembodied voice reached me first, a magical, silvery sound which seemed to echo in the white space.

  “You’re welcome.” I turned to see a woman with long blonde hair practically floating across the floor. Her grace was beyond anything I’d seen in a human, and her beauty was nearly enough to paralyze me. I had to blink a few times to make sure I was really there.

  “I know this must seem a little weird for you, having only ever known one other dreamwalker.” She sat on the other pillow and crossed her legs.

  It was as if she’d come into sharper focus, and I realized she was younger than me. It was hard to look away, and I didn’t know if it was magic or the commanding look on her face. I tried to shake off the feeling and forced a reply. "A little.”

  Runa smiled, a mischievous look in her eyes and placed her hands on her knees. When she gazed into my eyes it was like she’d found the place my deepest, darkest secrets were kept. Then she winked. “I promise this won't hurt.”

  I laughed nervously.

  Astor’s comment about her moodiness resurfaced in my mind.

  Was this Runa in a good mood? She was still unsettling in a way I couldn’t put my finger on, other than knowing I didn’t trust her.

  “Thank you for the stone,” I was having a hard time putting two thoughts together in her presence, like I was being blocked somehow. Was it by her?

  “Let's cut to the chase. I'm not one for small talk.” She snapped her fingers and a box appeared next to us.

  “Wow, you can do that as a dreamwalker?”

  “Yes. You can’t?” She lifted the top off the box.

  “No.” I marveled at her abilities; a tad jealous of how advanced she was.

  “I'm sure you have some idea as to why I've called a meeting with you.” She removed a pot from the box, placing it on the floor between the two pillows.

  I was fixated by her every move, unable to look away. “I could guess why.”

  She was about to remove the lid from the pot when she stopped, tilting her head to look at me with an intense curiosity. “How's he doing?”

  It made me uncomfortable, but I shrugged. “As well as can be expected. Gaining weight and strength.”

  “How was it in the prison? I've always wanted to know. Not badly enough to attempt to go, of course.” Her smile dissolved into a stone-cold expression, her eyes becoming flat chips of ice. It was easy to see she disapproved. At least it was beginning to make sense why she’d wanted to meet with me.

  “It wasn't pleasant.” I didn’t volunteer details, not wanting to give her any more ammunition against me if she was going to tell me how badly I’d messed up.

  “Hm.” She cocked her head, looking at me with narrowed eyes. “In any event, it happened. Unfortunately. And now I have to fix it.” Her tone was cold, her eyes black.

  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “Fix what?”

  “Your little stunt.” She finally lifted the top off the pot.

  Smoke began to rise, and the air in the room became stifling with the scent of wood, betony, and elder filling my nostrils. The smoke began to form and project images.

  I immediately recognized the inside of the prison and shifted uncomfortably. I didn’t want to be here anymore, but I had no recourse except to wait for her to tell me why she was doing this.

  “You know what you’re looking at. This is the prison. Something’s a little different than it’s supposed to be. Care to guess?” The dry sarcasm in her voice made me uneasy.

  I swallowed hard before replying, my throat suddenly dry from the smoke. “Beru is gone.” What did she want from me? We were dreamwalkers. Shouldn’t we be on the same side?

  “Good guess. Try again.” She crossed her arms, staring at me.

  Increasingly angry at the cryptic interrogation, the strange sense of being unable to control my thoughts and speech vanished. I was done playing whatever game she was setting up.

  “Let's cut the small talk,” I stated boldly, a tingle of pride at her surprise replacing some of the anger.

  “Let's. There's a hole ripped in the prison where you pulled Beru out. Do you know what that means?”

  I opened my mouth, but she cut me off, her voice no longer sweet and silvery, but sharp and harsh. “It means anyone can leave the prison. Everyone can leave.” She placed the cover back on the pot and returned it to the box. With a snap of her fingers, the box disappeared as if it had never been there.

  I swallowed hard. I’d had my suspicions the hole hadn’t closed, but I’d been trying hard not to dwell on the possibility. I’d hoped once enough time passed and no one escaped everything would be fine.

  She was confirming my deepest fears, and my guilt compounded.

  I had wanted to forget it ever happened, but it appeared that wasn’t going to happen. “Who else knows about the hole?”

  “A select few, and now you.” She placed her hands on her knees again and focused all her attention on me, waiting for a reply.

  “How do we fix it?”

  “We? I'm still debating whether I'm even going to take you on. I've been enquiring about you, and so far, I’ve been less than impressed. An unsuccessful career as a healer. An irresponsible re
sponse to being a dreamwalker.” She shook her head regretfully, then snapped her fingers.

  A servant appeared beside her with a tray of drinks.

  She placed one in front of me.

  I hesitated to pick it up, answering her charges first instead. I still didn’t know if I could trust her. “I'm more than that. I know I've made mistakes, but I've been diligent in my studies since freeing Beru.”

  She followed my gaze to the drinks, and burst out laughing, a surprisingly deep, throaty sound compared to her voice. “I'm not trying to kill you. If I wanted you dead, I'd be more creative.”

  “That's very reassuring.” I sat calmly, holding eye contact with her to show her I wasn’t afraid, but didn’t reach for the drink. I wasn’t a fool, and we weren’t friends.

  “The prison is split now. Soon, darkness will be upon us. There's not much time. So, while I don't like it, it looks like we’ll have to work together to have any chance at success.” She picked up the other glass, slammed back the drink, then closed her eyes as she swung her head from side to side in appreciation of whatever had been in the glass.

  “What if I don't want to help?” I sniffed my drink before taking a sip. I wanted to show her she didn’t scare me. Surely if she could drink hers, mine likely wasn’t poisoned. Probably.

  “There’s no want here. While you didn't free anyone else, others will find a way out of the prison. We don't have much time to fix the rip.”

  “How do you know others will find it? If they don't know it's there, they won’t be looking.” I placed my almost-full cup on the floor, well aware it was a sign of ingratitude to my host.

  “My seer foretold it.” Her eyes followed my cup to the ground, and she picked it up and drank the rest. “I don't like to waste.”

  I leaned back as far as I could, adding only a few inches of distance.

  “We need to fix the prison now.”

  “And how do you propose we do that?”

  Runa didn't have time to answer.

  I heard my name being called far off in the distance. It quickly became louder, and my body began to shake. I closed my eyes and jolted up straight. An intense migraine gripped me as I struggled to pull away from someone.

  A man.

  I could feel his callused hands on my arms gripping tight and shaking. I came out of my dreamwalk breathlessly to find Beru standing over me.

  His face was paler than usual, and his eyes had an edge of panic I’d never seen. “We’re under attack!”

  Chapter 4

  The shifter’s sword scraped against my bicep, forcing me to shift into survival mode.

  Letting out a scream, I channeled the fierce energy rumbling from the pit of my stomach into the sword and plunged it into his scaly, green chest.

  He fell over.

  I jerked my sword out with a sickeningly wet sound.

  I glanced at Beru just in time to watch as he finished off another lizard-shifter.

  His fighting was so smooth it appeared choreographed, and I was so enthralled I almost missed the shifter approaching me from behind. At the last minute, the footsteps thundering toward me caught my attention and I turned, lifting my sword and preparing for battle.

  She was shorter than the others attacking us, but I knew it meant she’d likely be faster, not easier to kill.

  I’d never seen shifters like these before.

  They had scales like the freshwater lizards I was familiar with, along with the same wide mouths full of razor-sharp teeth, but they fought upright like humans, which made many of them almost six feet tall.

  This one was only about four feet, but her well-muscled arms were larger than mine even with my height advantage, and her shoulders were broader than mine by at least a foot.

  As our swords clashed, I sensed Beru’s eyes on my back, but tried to ignore the distraction. As I’d suspected, the tiny shifter was more than a match for me and I needed to focus all my energy on her if I didn’t want to lose.

  With each clash of our swords, my arms trembled and weakened. Sweat began to form on my brow, and more than ever I regretted not keeping up with my training since we’d returned to the farm. I’d been foolish to assume it would be a long time, if ever, until I was in battle again. Instead of watching Beru regain his strength through practice, I should have joined him.

  The shifter’s eyes darted just over my head, and I turned to see an enormous shifter join.

  My eyes widened as I took in my attackers. No way I’d be able to fight both together. My pulse rushed in my ears as fear threatened to paralyze me. But even as I felt my luck had run out, Beru joined me, swinging at the larger shifter. With one last lunge, I swung my sword and sliced through my enemy’s neck.

  Her hands covered the wound, futilely trying to staunch the dark, algae-colored blood. Before long, she stumbled and fell to the ground, unmoving. Dead.

  I turned toward Beru as the larger shifter fell in two pieces to the ground. He was breathing faster than usual, and covered in the dark green blood of his vanquished opponents, but otherwise appeared uninjured. Relief filled me even as I bent against my knees, sucking air.

  “Are you okay?” He sounded concerned, but otherwise reassuringly solid.

  “It's been a while.” I huffed, still leaning over. I wondered if I would vomit. Ugh.

  “Stay near.” He placed a hand on my shoulder, patting it once before he spun on his heel and ran toward his next target.

  My eyes moved toward the yard in front of the house.

  Both Damour and Harov were fighting.

  I could still see at least twenty shifters.

  We were incredibly outnumbered.

  A roar came from my left and I whirled to see a wolf, teeth bared, spring at me.

  I side-stepped and almost avoided it. I lifted my sword but at the same moment, the claws slashed through my pant leg.

  “Damn it!” I looked down to see blood seeping out of the scratch, and felt it begin to burn as the wolf-shifter’s poison entered my bloodstream.

  “Get to the house.” Beru pushed me forward as he plunged his short knife into the heart of the beast. “You need to heal yourself now, before the poison takes hold. You’re no good to us otherwise.”

  I nodded, darting back to the farmhouse. Once inside, I rummaged through the cupboards to find the items I needed to heal myself. He was right. I could already feel the poison weakening me.

  I found the containers of dried prunella vulgaris, achillea millefolium, and Symphytum officinale. Throwing them on the counter, I reached down to where the pots and pans were and rummaged for my mortar and pestle, feeling a growing sense of urgency.

  I didn't have long until the effects of the poison overcame my body and I was fast becoming frustrated at the state of the kitchen as fatigue began to creep through my body.

  Typical of the way Damour did everything, there appeared to be no rhyme nor reason.

  “Aha!” I placed the mortar and pestle on the counter, quickly placing a full pot of water to boil over the fire, noticing my hand shaking slightly. I returned to my impromptu work counter, carefully measuring out what I hoped was enough of the medicinal herbs for my leg, as well as extra in case there were more injuries.

  Grinding the herbs to the right texture, I added them once the water was at a rolling boil. I stirred them to the right ten times, then to the left. Once the smell was uniform, I removed the mixture from the fire and poured some back into the pestle, grinding the liquid in with the remainder of the powder.

  Panic rose in my chest as I applied the salve to my wound and waited. When the relief wasn’t immediate, I wondered if I’d screwed up. Had I added the right ingredients? I patted another layer of the paste onto my other scrapes, and waited longer.

  Still, nothing happened.

  The skin around the wolf scratch wound was red and swollen still, the paste covering the marks from view. I collected cold ash from the edges of the fireplace and drew a circle around the wound, at the edge of the red skin. This w
ay, I would be able to see if the wound was enlarging or contracting.

  As I waited, certain I’d failed creating the healing paste, I glanced out the window.

  Beru and my brothers were holding their own against the shifters.

  I itched to get back there but my leg chose that moment to object as a sharp jab of pain made it tremble. Fatigue rolled over me, making it difficult to support my weight, let alone allow me to fight. I pressed my lips together and held onto the counter.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the pain lessened. At first it was almost imperceptible, then gradually, my leg stopped trembling and I felt less unstable. I looked down to see the edges of the scrape beginning to close. “Oh, thank Suun!”

  The redness had begun a rapid retreat from the edge marked with ash, so I grabbed a clean cloth and wiped it off, then wrapped it tightly around the wound and secured it in place. I checked the smaller cut on my arm, but it wasn’t red or deep, so I left it to deal with later.

  I ran out the door toward my brothers and my eyes met with the slimy barrier of a slug-shifter directly in my path.

  It had noticed me and changed directions.

  My heart sank. Its slick skin would be hard to penetrate, and the intense odor already stung my eyes from several feet away. The stench alone was bound to make it harder to fight him, even without the slippery, tough hide blocking my sword.

  I took a swipe but missed by a wide margin.

  Unfortunately, the single misjudgment allowed the slug-shifter time to jab at the wound on my arm.

  I winced, trying to ignore the pain as I slid my short knife out of its sheath, aiming for the center of the unprotected soft underbelly.

  Up close, my eyes watered from the overpowering stench, causing my vision to blur. I tried to pull back my knife, but instead of falling down, the slug leaned closer and wrapped a single flat, sticky arm around my throat. To my horror, and increasing nausea, it lifted me up.

  I dropped the knife, frantically tearing at the squishy surface as I struggled to breathe.

  It didn’t lessen its hold, seemingly oblivious to my efforts.