Cursebreaker

by Carol A Park

  Or some combination thereof.

  But he could move his eyes in their sockets, so they were still there at least—and the movement didn’t hurt. He took a few deep breaths and wriggled. Nothing felt broken, but even that bit of movement made his head throb and spin again.

  All right. So someone had captured and imprisoned him. But he wasn’t Sedated or dead, not yet anyway, so eventually someone had to come to see him. Right?

  “Ivana?” he whispered, wondering if she was imprisoned in this tomb as well.

  No answer.

  He burned a trickle of aether from his blood, reaching out to find any water that might be nearby—

  His head exploded with pain.

  When Vaughn woke next, it was to the sound of a key turning in a lock.

  He blinked and widened his eyes, waiting for the moment when light would come to him again.

  A door swung open, and he recoiled from the light that poured in—light that seemed blindingly bright to his eyes, already heightened in sensitivity from sitting for so long in the dark.

  Footfalls, and then a voice he hadn’t heard in over a decade. “Hello, Teyrnon. It’s been a long time.”

  Vaughn’s heart sank. Airell.

  He squinted up at the newcomer. His oldest brother’s face wore a bastardized imitation of Vaughn’s best half-cocked grin, full of cruelty and savage delight. It marred his otherwise flawless features—Airell had always been unfairly handsome, and his years of reported excess had seemingly done little to change that.

  Vaughn glared at him. “What in the abyss do you think you’re doing, Airell?”

  Airell’s grin broadened. “I knew it was you,” he said, not answering Vaughn’s question. “Five dead bloodgiants on the plateau? Arrows everywhere? A curious silvery powder when the heads were broken? And then you show up at the inn in Calqo with nary a scratch?” He shook his head and clucked. “Sloppy.”

  “I’d go with ‘impressive,’” Vaughn said. “But I suppose it depends on your perspective.”

  Airell frowned at him. “You’re in no position to brag.”

  Where was Ivana? He desperately wanted to know, but he didn’t dare ask. If she had escaped, he didn’t want to draw attention to that fact—and Airell would lie to him anyway.

  The thought that she might have escaped and subsequently abandoned him to whatever fate awaited him encroached on his mind. Not that long ago, he might not have considered that she would. After last night…?

  He wasn’t sure what she might or might not do.

  “What do you want with me?” he asked Airell.

  Airell wagged his finger. “Ah, ah. That would be telling.”

  Vaughn gave a perfunctory struggle, and the room turned upside down again. “I could kill you with a thought.” Probably.

  “Really? Have you not tried to use your demon powers yet?”

  The smug look on his brother’s face was disconcerting. He had—and he had promptly passed out, hadn’t he? But his head didn’t hurt quite as bad as before, so maybe…

  He took the bait willingly. He burned the tiniest stream of aether he could. His head began to throb again, and stars flashed in front of his eyes, but he remained conscious.

  He stretched out, felt the water in Airell’s body—his blood, in his bones, his organs—and then lost it in a haze of fog—along with anything that had been left in his stomach.

  He swallowed, panic rising in his chest. Without his powers, without his bow, he was nothing, had nothing, no tricks up his sleeve, no recourse. “What did you do to me?”

  “It’s helpful to have friends in the right places,” Airell said. “You don’t think they haven’t spent decades perfecting a perfectly normal sedative to keep the demonspawn they save for harvesting under control?

  So the Conclave did keep un-Sedated Banebringers. It was a question that had never been answered—how the Conclave was able to use presumably neutralized aether from Sedated Banebringers. “Conclave lapdog,” Vaughn spat. “They’ll destroy you when they’re done using you.”

  “They’ll certainly try,” Airell said. “Anyway, just thought I’d stop by to say hello.” He produced a syringe filled with a clear liquid from beneath his vest. “And give you your medicine.”

  Vaughn shrank back from the nightmare-inducing implement instinctively, but there was nowhere to go, nothing he could do.

  Airell jabbed it into his arm haphazardly, injected the contents of the syringe, winked at Vaughn, and then left.

  The door slammed behind him with a resounding thud that made tiny stars explode in front of Vaughn’s eyes—and then darkness.

  Chapter Eighteen

  New Friends

  Driskell sat alone in the conference room, organizing his notes after another morning-long meeting. Nahua had given him orders to take the afternoon off when she had left, and he intended to follow her orders, truly. But first he had to get his notes in order…

  The door to the room opened. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was still in here.”

  Driskell lifted his head. One of the Banebringers, Danton, stood at the doorway. He shifted from one foot to the other and then inched into the room, letting the door shut behind him. He pointed to the other side of the table. “I, uh, forgot my jacket.”

  “No problem,” Driskell said, shuffling his papers into a pile and rising. “I was just leaving anyway.”

  Danton moved around the table toward the chair he had been sitting in earlier, and Driskell tried not to stare at him.

  He’d met several of Yaotel’s associates by now, including the two whom he had seen at the inn. They all seemed perfectly normal—until they started demonstrating some bit of magic or another, that is.

  But they certainly didn’t seem like the sort who’d be in league with demons—or, more realistically, who wanted to destroy society.

  Unless, of course, destroying the Empire was destroying society. But then again, he supposed they were all plotting to do that, weren’t they?

  It was easy to forget what was happening lately. Seceding from Setana and allying with Banebringers and planning how they were going to hold off a Conclave army seemed rather mundane when all it consisted of was meeting, after meeting, after meeting…

  Nahua was right. He did need time off. He felt as though he’d barely seen the sun the past few days.

  Danton had retrieved his jacket and was headed back toward the door, his head down.

  Driskell remembered what it was like to be the odd person out. He hadn’t known anyone when he’d come to Marakyn for school four years ago. How much worse would it have been if he had also believed everyone had hated him?

  “Have you ever been to Marakyn before?” Driskell asked. Danton’s skin was the creamy beige of most Setanans, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t traveled.

  Danton halted with his hand on the door handle. He seemed surprised that Driskell had spoken to him. “No,” he said. “I’m from Arlana and, honestly, I’ve spent most of my life since… Well…” He faltered and scuffed a toe on the floor. “You know.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’ve been with the Ichtaca in Weylyn since then.”

  “Have you had a chance to see much of the city?” If he could show a Xambrian around, the gods knew he could show a Banebringer around.

  “I haven’t wandered far,” Danton said.

  “Do you have some free time? I mean… I do, right now. I wouldn’t mind showing you around a bit. If you want, of course.” He flashed Danton a nervous smile.

  Danton stared at him for a minute, and then hesitantly returned the smile. “Okay. Sure. I didn’t have any definitive plans for the rest of the day. I’d…I’d like that.”

  “Great. I just want to put my things back in my room.”

  The start of Driskell’s tour was awkward. He pointed out notable locations, gave some history on the city, all the expected actions he might take.

  But Danton seemed decidedly on edge.

  Which was curious. Driskell felt he
ought to have been the one on edge, not the other way around. Then again… What normal person, knowing someone was a Banebringer, would attempt to befriend them?

  When they stopped to look over the wall from the eighth tier, where he had brought Ambassador Mezzo on the last day of their more extensive tour, he pointed it out. “You seem jumpy,” he said to Danton. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Danton rubbed at a crevice in the top of the wall. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m not trying to be rude. I’m just not used to, you know, normal people being friendly.” He glanced around, but the tier was empty, as usual. He lowered his voice anyway. “At least not once they know what I am.”

  Driskell digested that. “What…were you before? I mean, your family. You said you’re from Arlana.”

  “Just a kid from a backwater farming village,” he said. “Nothing special. Not like Vaughn.”

  Driskell raised his eyebrow. “Vaughn?”

  Danton cast him a look. “Oh. Right. You don’t know Vaughn yet. Vaughn is the son of Ri Gildas of Ferehar. Brother of Ri Airell, I guess, now.”

  Driskell’s mouth dropped open. Talk about a fall from power. “Oh. Wow.”

  “Yeah.” Danton shifted. “But I should probably let him tell you more about that, if he wants to.”

  “Of course.” Driskell hesitated, questions burning in his mind, just as they had with Mezzo. “So…when you were…changed…I’m sorry. I’m just curious. You don’t have to answer.”

  “No, it’s okay. If you want to know, I don’t mind.” Danton glanced at Driskell. “I’d rather people know. That way they know what it is we have to suffer.” He pushed himself off the wall and turned to face Driskell, leaning against the wall behind him. “We were huddled in the root cellar—that’s the best we have for safe rooms, out in the country—when it happened to me. As far as it goes with my family, it could have been worse. The tear summoned a half dozen bloodrats.” A half-smile slid across his face. “My mother went into full battle mode, whacking the things with a broom like she’d been trained in it martially while my father went to throw open the cellar door. The bloodrats ran off.” He swallowed. “Once the dust settled, of course, we all knew someone had to have been changed. It was possible that a random tear appeared in our cellar, but that’s so unusual…

  “So we went around, pricking our fingers. My ma. My da. My three sisters and brother. And there I was, that stupid little dot of silver on my finger.” His voice broke, and he turned away, almost angrily. “You come from a nice family, Driskell?”

  “Yes,” Driskell said. “I mean, my parents are merchants from Ipsylanti. I got the position as attaché because I was at the top of my class.” He coughed. “I mean, way at the top. In all areas.”

  Danton relaxed and grinned. “One of those, huh?”

  Driskell flushed and shrugged. “I mean…” He laughed. “Okay. Yes.”

  “Well, I had a nice family, too. Everyone intact. And I think—you know, I think my parents might have tried to keep the secret. They did, in fact, for a day.” He cut himself off, turned around, and looked back over the plains.

  “And?” Driskell prompted.

  “One of my younger sisters told my oldest sister, who was married and out of the house. And she turned me in.” He gave a little half-chuckle. “Just like that. No hesitation. No qualms. When she arrived with the Watchman the next day, it was like I didn’t even know her. All I saw on her face was disgust.”

  Danton lapsed into silence.

  Driskell shivered. What would his own family do? Tania’s would probably Sedate him themselves, if they could.

  “I was so crushed that I didn’t even try to run. I was only sixteen. The Watchman just took me into custody while my parents stood by. They tried to hide me, but you know, that was their best effort. When it came to it, they didn’t fight for me, either.” He drew in a sharp breath.

  “Maybe they were afraid,” Driskell said quietly.

  “I’m sure they were. I get it. If they made a fuss, and the Conclave heard about it, they’d have burned the farm to the ground and had my entire family slaughtered if they were in a bad mood. I get it.” His jaw twitched. “Doesn’t make it any easier to bear.”

  A few more moments went by in silence. The sounds of the factories working five tiers below could be heard faintly on the breeze.

  “How did you end up with the Ichtaca, then?” Driskell asked at last.

  “A tiny village like ours didn’t warrant a Hunter. They packed me up in a cage on wheels and sent me off to the nearest city. Vaughn, the one I told you about earlier, ran across the caravan and rescued me. Brought me to the Ichtaca. The rest is…” He spread his hands. “Well, here I am.”

  Driskell eyed Danton. He was now looking over the wall, to the tier below them—the government tier. He was so normal. They all were. There was nothing obviously vile or demonic about them. Granted, some people said they deliberately tried to appear that way, but…he had a hard time believing this man was in league with evil forces or wanted anything out of life that differed from any other person.

  Driskell cleared his throat. “So, you’re what they call a lightblood, right?”

  Danton straightened up to look at him. “Yeah.”

  “What can you do? I mean, other than what you’ve already shown us.”

  His eyes brightened. “You really want to know?”

  Driskell nodded. He really did.

  Danton gave the area a furtive once-over. “Not here. Come back with me to the consulate, and I’ll give you a demonstration.”

  “Sounds good,” Driskell found himself saying. And, incredibly, it did.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Widow

  Vaughn woke to someone stabbing him in the arm. He recoiled, which was a mistake because it made his head swim and everything else hurt.

  “And how are we this evening, dear brother?” Airell’s voice came from above him. There were multiple pairs of legs; it seemed Airell had brought backup with him this time.

  Vaughn tried to speak, if only to insult him, but his mouth felt like it was full of cotton and nothing came out but a hoarse rasp. He had been given nothing to eat or drink since they had locked him up, and he hadn’t eaten since dinner the night he had left to follow Ivana.

  Airell leaned down to shove his smug face within Vaughn’s sight. “What was that?”

  Vaughn closed his eyes.

  A moment later, someone had jerked his head up by his hair and was pouring tepid water down his throat.

  Vaughn gasped and spluttered, but he managed to choke some of it down. He burned a tiny tendril of aether and reached to gather the water that had spilled—

  Gritting his teeth together, he groaned. Terrible idea.

  Airell chuckled. “Better? You can have some more if you answer some simple questions for me.”

  Vaughn moistened his cracked lips. “Rot in the abyss.”

  Airell’s nose flared. “Tell me about the Ichtaca.”

  “Sounds like a cat hacking up a hairball,” Vaughn said.

  Pain exploded in Vaughn’s side as one of Airell’s lackeys slammed his foot into Vaughn’s ribs. Something cracked. He gasped with pain, and it hurt; he tried not to breathe, and it hurt.

  Airell jeered at him. “Does that hurt? Do you want me to fetch Mama so you can cry in her skirts like you used to?”

  Vaughn was still reeling from the blow and couldn’t come up with a suitable comeback, which, unfortunately, seemed to satisfy Airell.

  “How many of you are there?”

  Vaughn managed to eke out a pain-laced response. “Right now,” he said, “I feel like maybe…two or three. But pretty…sure that’s the drugs you gave me.”

  Airell frowned. “What’s your goal?”

  Vaughn was out of snarky responses. His mind already felt as though every thought were being strained through a sieve and, now, talking hurt his ribs. So he chose not to respond.

  Airell’s eyes glinted maliciously. “You w
ill give me the answers I want,” he said softly. “One way or another.”

  “How about…a trade,” Vaughn said. “One answer…for one answer.”

  Airell quirked one eyebrow up. “You think I’m a fool? No matter; perhaps I’ll humor you. What’s your question?”

  “Why me…in particular?” It wasn’t as though he were the only Banebringer in the world.

  “Because you’re a plague on my existence,” Airell responded without hesitation. “Ever since you turned into one of those demonspawn, all Father could think about was hunting you down. He was obsessed with it. Instead of preparing me to be Ri, he was out gallivanting trying to find you.”

  Vaughn stared at him. His brother was insane. Absolutely insane.

  “Now, I’ve been generous,” Airell said. “Play nice and answer one of mine.”

  “No…thanks,” Vaughn said.

  Airell’s mouth twisted in a derisive smile. “You amuse yourself, do you? Insulting me? Mocking me? You imagine yourself better than me, I suppose, despite being utterly helpless and friendless? Well, when I’m done with you, the only thing you’ll be imagining is the quickest way to die.”

  Airell spun on his heel and left, and his thugs followed.

  Vaughn cringed back as one of the men made like he was going to kick him again as he passed, but the man stopped short, guffawed, and shook his head before following his master.

  Vaughn sank back against his bonds and tried to burn aether again.

  Pain and darkness.

  Ivana sat in the shadows on a rear-facing balcony that overlooked spacious gardens.

  It was past midnight, now, and most of the estate was dark—including the room she had been watching for the past couple hours, three stories up in none other than Ri Gildas’ country estate house.

  Her lip curled into a sneer. Well. She supposed it was Ri Airell’s estate now. She took a steadying breath. That is not why you’re here.

  She’d be fine, as long as she didn’t see him. As long as she didn’t know where he was, rescuing Vaughn could remain her priority.