Cursebreaker

by Carol A Park

  Driskell had lied as much as he felt he could to Gered. He’d told him that Vaughn, Thrax, and Danton had different powers than they did. He gave Gered the wrong descriptions. Encouraged him to attempt to parley, because Vaughn might listen to reason.

  Those were easy lies because Gered didn’t have any contrary information and already believed Driskell.

  The moment Gered suspected Driskell had been manipulating him, Driskell’s ability to do so would become more difficult. And if Gered had any actual evidence that Driskell had lied? It would drop to impossible.

  It had been a good decision not to fabricate more than necessary. Gered had sent out scouts to nearby villages on their way to collect rumors, and already, rumors had confirmed what they already knew: that Ri Airell’s Banebringer brother had challenged him and was in residence at the palace with Lady Askata’s blessing. Driskell held his breath every time a scout came back, hoping someone didn’t have a contradictory rumor about the Banebringers’ powers, but apparently they hadn’t been flaunting them publicly, because no one seemed to know.

  But manipulating Gered was only part of what Driskell had been doing. Since Gered was no longer keeping him a prisoner, he had decided to continue his original mission: influencing the troops themselves—far beyond those in Gered’s inner circle like Paran. Any opportunity he had, he beat waves of anxiety and discontent and doubt in the troops’ direction. Inserted subtle suggestions into overheard conversations. Even tried to plant thoughts of desertion in the minds of those who seemed most outwardly receptive to his magical influence.

  Unfortunately, while he could influence humans to a yet-unknown degree of success, he could do nothing to bloodbane.

  He glanced to his left, where a pack of three dozen bloodwolves was lying sedately among the trees, panting with tongues lolling over their enormous razor-sharp teeth in the hot sun as though they were domesticated dogs.

  If domesticated dogs were scaly and black and the size of small ponies.

  One of them turned its head to look at him now, and it seemed to Driskell that its white, pupil-less gaze held a barely contained malevolence, as if what it wanted was to tear out Driskell’s throat, but it was being prevented from doing so.

  In fact, he supposed that was exactly the case.

  He shuddered and looked away. What if that thing keeping them under control…lost control?

  Their little army would be shredded.

  Paran glanced at him. “I know,” he said. “They give me the jitters too.” He straightened up and set his jaw, as if to prevent his own shiver from manifesting.

  Driskell burned a bit more aether and imagined the invisible bubble that helped him control the projection. He made it bigger in his head until it encompassed Paran. “Yeah,” he said. He leaned closer to Paran, moving his bubble with him. “I have to admit, I know these Fereharians are rebels, but being torn to pieces by one of these monsters is a wretched way to go.”

  Paran nodded his head in agreement. “It is. But hopefully they’ll just surrender.”

  The downside to his ability was that if he was using it, Driskell could never tell if someone truly agreed. Paran appeared to agree, but later, he might wonder why he ever thought that way. Or maybe he did agree. Maybe he was an ally. And Driskell would never know because he couldn’t afford to take the chance.

  Commander Gered was standing on a ridge looking out over a sprawling vineyard. Some of their soldiers were moving through the rows of vines, gathering food for the troops. It was a bit early yet; the grapes wouldn’t be as sweet and plump as they could be—but even a small army needed more food than they could carry for the march, especially since they had no baggage train. They were moving at double-speed. They would rest and feast when they arrived and won. That was the theory, anyway. Meanwhile, any farmers they passed suffered for it, while they stripped their fields on the march.

  Driskell took a deep breath and held his aether at the ready. It was a strange feeling, like keeping the blood in his veins just below boiling. “You asked to see me, Commander?”

  Gered nodded. He pointed out over the vineyard and beyond. “A hard four-hour march will bring us to Cohoxta.” Gered drummed his fingers on his thigh. “Are you sure you’re ready to do your part?” Doubt crept into his voice.

  His part. Once they were in the city Driskell was tasked with finding Vaughn—and Danton and Thrax, if he could manage it—and leading him to Gered under the guise of friendship.

  Of course, he was going to do no such thing, but Gered didn’t know that. Driskell burned aether and expanded his bubble. “Yes, Commander. These dogs will never know what hit them. I’m beginning to be sorry we were unable to do the same in Marakyn.”

  Gered nodded and patted his shoulder. “All in good time, son. I know you’re eager to oust those traitors. And you’ll be rewarded for it.”

  Driskell wondered, not for the first time, how much Vaughn knew about the makeup of this army. Tanuac had scouts on the pass, and Yaotel had a spy in the original camp, so Driskell had to assume Vaughn knew they were coming, and that he knew they would have bloodbane with them.

  Gered continued. “We’ll use Acalli as a base. My scouts tell me that the town has been all but deserted, with most of the townsfolk fleeing into Cohoxta.” His lips spread into a tight, cruel smile. “They probably should have fled elsewhere.”

  There was something in Gered’s tone that sent a chill down Driskell’s spine. “Commander?” he asked.

  The hand on Driskell’s shoulder tightened. “It’s none of your concern, Driskell. Do your part, and all will be well.”

  Driskell started. What? Oh, no, no, no. That wasn’t good enough. He had to know what was happening. It was relatively easy to manipulate emotions by suggestion, but he found forcing someone to talk when they didn’t intend to a little harder. He burned a little more aether. “If I’m going into a situation, I ought to know what I could face. What if I’m captured and can’t get out? What will that mean?”

  Gered studied him.

  Driskell straightened up. “I’ve betrayed my people for the greater good of Setana, Commander. You owe me this.”

  “Perhaps you’re right, son. Perhaps you’re right. Well, there’s not much to say. Once we have their ringleader and have secured the palace, my plans are to immediately conduct a series of mass executions—as an example.”

  Driskell was so shocked, he almost lost his bubble. “Commander?” he asked, incredulous. “Mass executions?”

  Gered pressed his lips together. “This order comes from above me. Cohoxta has harbored Banebringers. There’s only one penalty for that. We can’t slaughter the entire city, of course, but enough to ensure there will be no thoughts of grass-roots resistance.”

  “Commander,” he said, trying to infuse reason into his voice along with additional burned aether. “That seems a little harsh, doesn’t it?”

  Gered swung his eyes toward Driskell. “Are you having a change of heart?”

  Why wasn’t it working? Drat it all. He turned the aether inward, making himself more appealing rather than working on the other person’s emotions. “No, Commander,” he said with a curt bow. “I am ready to do whatever is necessary.”

  There was a moment if Driskell wondered if it all was lost.

  But there was the hesitation. And then Gered nodded again. “I knew you’d come through. You’re a good lad, Driskell. A credit to Setana.”

  He let out a silent breath. The first moment he could escape from this madman, he would take it.

  “May I be excused, Commander?”

  Gered waved his hand. “Of course, of course.” And then he turned back toward the fields to watch his troops strip the poor vineyard owner’s land clean.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Leading by Example

  Vaughn’s qixli glowed, and the small group of people surrounding him fell silent. He snatched the qixli out of the pouch at his waist, his heart pounding.

  “They’re seven or eight m
iles out,” Danton said over the qixli. “Right now, they’re just camping.”

  “The bloodbane?”

  There was a long silence. “I’d say more than the scouts said, and definitely more coming.”

  Vaughn swore. His first scouts had counted maybe five hundred, far fewer than Yaotel’s initial report. But then rumors had reached them of bloodbane swarming out of the hills and forests, ignoring terrified villagers and townsfolk as they streamed toward Cohoxta with a bizarre singlemindedness—unless someone got in their way. It was much like those early reports coming out of Weylyn City.

  Refugees from those villages directly in the path of the army and who heard about the danger ahead of time were still cramming themselves into Cohoxta—behind the ostensible safety of its walls.

  “Keep me updated,” Vaughn said. “If they start to move, I want to know immediately. Meanwhile, see if you can get a better idea of how many of each type of bloodbane we might be dealing with.”

  “Will do,” Danton said.

  Vaughn drew in a deep breath and set the qixli down. He glanced through the window in the main conference room, out over the city, and toward the southern gates—for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past week. The river glistened under a blue summer sky, but nothing moved on or beyond it. Acalli, the large town across the river, had been fully abandoned three days ago, and the southern road and bridge was deserted, aside from a few Watchmen scurrying about a barricade they’d erected across the width, closer to the city.

  “My lord?” Commander Moqel asked.

  Vaughn shook himself and glanced at the older man his mother had chosen for the job of organizing their defense. He was Fereharian, through and through, and his deep bronze skin was leathered by many summers and winters alike spent outdoors. “Forgive me, Commander,” Vaughn said. “You were saying?”

  Askata’s skirts rustled next to him in a disapproving manner. He hadn’t known skirts could rustle disapprovingly until he’d had to work so closely with his mother.

  “My men have begun enforcing a curfew,” Moqel said, “but we’re having a problem with the number of refugees from the villages along the southern road. The inns and hostels are full. Those who would extend hospitality have done so. We’re running out of room.”

  “If bloodbane controlled by that thing get into the city,” Thrax put in helpfully, “anyone on the streets will be torn to bits.”

  “Yes, thank you, Thrax,” Vaughn said. The idea, of course, was that bloodbane wouldn’t get into the city. That Ivana would take care of the corpse-thing before it got that far. But Vaughn wasn’t willing to take that risk.

  He turned to Gan Anque, who was the only one of the four Gan not already hiding in his city manor. Vaughn had no doubt there was some political calculation to Anque’s move of remaining to advise the regent. However, he was the Gan who seemed most positive toward Vaughn.

  Vaughn hoped he wasn’t about to ruin that. “Your Grace,” he said. “What would you say to opening your manor to any refugees who still need a place to stay? It’d be temporary, of course.”

  Gan Anque stroked his short goatee. “My wife will have a fit,” he said. “But that can sometimes be entertaining. Yes. I am willing.”

  “Excellent. We’ll inform the other three Gan that they, too, will be opening their manors to refugees.”

  Askata’s skirts rustled. “Lord Teyrnon,” she said. “That may not be the wisest—”

  “We’ll lead by example, of course,” Vaughn said, interrupting. “Dal Calpix.” Vaughn turned now to the new steward his mother had chosen, an older Fereharian gentleman with silver in his hair and a strong sense of proper protocol and etiquette. “Please prepare the palace to receive guests.”

  The steward’s eyes widened. “My lord?”

  “They don’t need private rooms, Dal. We just need somewhere to put people until we get through this. If by some chance the bloodbane make it through the city walls, hopefully they won’t make it to the palace walls.” He turned to his mother. “Children and their mothers or caretakers are priority, followed by elderly.”

  “My lord,” the steward protested. “This is a kind gesture, but you’ll have every beggar and good-for-nothing taking advantage of your generosity along with those truly in need.”

  “Well, I suppose we don’t want beggars ripped to shreds by bloodbane, either, do we?” Vaughn asked, pinning the man with his best stern gaze.

  The steward’s mouth flopped open and shut a few times like a fish out of water, and then he turned to Askata. “Regent?”

  Askata had deliberately tried to step aside during the past week, allowing Vaughn to take the lead when decisions needed to be made, but in the end, she was regent, and the final say was still with her. Vaughn held his breath. Would she contradict him now?

  Askata sighed. “Do as he says, Dal,” Askata said. “I won’t make value judgments on whether someone deserves to be left to the bloodbane at this late hour.”

  Dal Calpix gave a short bow to Askata and left the room.

  “I’ll take my leave as well,” Gan Anque said. “I would be happy to inform the other three Gan?” And he did, indeed, seem almost delighted at the possibility.

  Vaughn nodded to him, and the Gan whisked out of the room.

  “Calpix can prepare the palace,” Askata said, “and the Gan their manors, but we’ll need someone to gather those who still need a place to hide.”

  Aleena exchanged a glance with Ivana, who in turn gave her the briefest of smiles. “Lady Regent,” Aleena said. “Da Ivana and I would love to take on that task.”

  “At least until I’m needed elsewhere,” Ivana added.

  “Good, Da,” Askata said. “Take a few of the maids with you also. They’ll know the city best; we don’t have a lot of time.”

  That was an understatement. If the army started moving immediately, it could be there in as little as four hours.

  Aleena nodded, and then she and Ivana left the room.

  “Commander Moqel?” Vaughn asked. “Is everything else ready?”

  “As ready as we can be, my lord,” Moqel said.

  Hopefully, that would be enough.

  Ivana stood in the grand entrance hall of the palace, surrounded by frightened women and crying children. She held one of the doors open, ushering them inside, trying to keep order.

  She glanced at the sun and then through the open palace gates and down the main boulevard. It was dark, and people were still coming. The palace courtyard was swarming with hundreds waiting their turns to be let in.

  Aleena stood farther in, sending the group she had just arrived with off throughout the palace with household staff. She saw Ivana looking at her and shouldered her way over.

  “How’s it holding out?” Ivana asked in a low voice.

  “There’s still some room,” Aleena said. “But it’s getting tight.”

  Vaughn’s offer of opening the palace to refugees had indeed been taken advantage of by more than they had imagined. But they weren’t beggars and good-for-nothings—the surplus, beyond refugees, were mostly women, children, and elderly who simply didn’t feel safe in their own homes. The manors of the four Gan were also crammed full. She was certain the Gan were thrilled.

  The qixli that Ivana held in her hand started glowing. Heedless of the half-curious and half-horrified looks around her, she gripped it and waited.

  It was Danton. “They’re about three miles out, coming at a good clip.” She could hear the strain in his voice even through the tinny sound of the qixli. “I’ve already let Vaughn know. He said it’s time.”

  “I’ll be right there,” she said, then put the qixli away. She glanced toward Aleena and hesitated.

  Aleena put a hand on her shoulder. Go,” she said. She grinned. “Do what you do best.” And then she turned and started barking orders.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  The Calm

  The streets of Cohoxta were empty. Most people were closeted in their homes—in cellars
and safe rooms, if they had them. Others huddled in the community safe rooms beneath the Watch posts. And, of course, a good number were packed into the palace and manors of the four Gan, counting on the safety of another set of walls.

  Askata and Aleena were at the palace, Commander Moqel by the gates.

  Vaughn, however, was huddled with his small group of friends in the middle room of the southern Watch tower, where guards spent their break time.

  Thrax was unusually sober-looking; he didn’t even have his customary ball of fire. Danton leaned back in his chair on two legs, trying to appear nonchalant, but Vaughn could see the fear in his eyes.

  Ivana was standing, propped up against one of the pillars nearby, her arms folded, her face unreadable.

  “The Conclave army will be here in about a half hour,” Vaughn said. “You all know your roles, but let’s go over it one more time. Thrax, you’re working with Commander Moqel. Light things on fire. Bloodbane, preferably. If they get through the walls, they’ll almost certainly head for the palace. Delay them.”

  Vaughn ran a hand through his hair. Damn, he wished he had more beastblood aether.

  “Danton, you’re our eyes and ears.” His ridiculous mobility made it easy for him to pop around to various locations to see what was happening and report quickly to Commander Moqel or Vaughn if need be. “But if you see where you can confuse a group of soldiers with lightblood magic, don’t hesitate—just do it.”

  Danton swallowed and nodded. Vaughn worried about him the most. He was too young to have the burden of such decision-making on his shoulders, but Vaughn had no choice.

  All of this would be fine if they were just dealing with soldiers, of course. If that were it, they’d be fine.

  But then there were the bloodbane. The thousand plus bloodbane Danton had identified could obliterate the city without human help. And the palace. Damn, if the corpse-thing wanted to, it could make that army of bloodbane obliterate all the villages and towns within fifty miles.