Cursebreaker

by Carol A Park

  “Commander, I should think anyone would be unsettled by these things.”

  A cacophony of noise rose faintly from the direction of Acalli. It might have been animals, but Driskell had a sinking feeling that it was, rather, the rest of the bloodbane moving out.

  Gered’s eyes flicked up toward the town. “Mmm. No, I think it’s rather more than unsettled, I’m afraid.”

  Driskell took an involuntary step back. Gods help me. Gered knew. But how?

  “Did you know that my pet bloodbane can sense your Banebringer magic? It knew immediately what you were doing once it got near you, but it took it a little while—being rather limited in intelligence, despite appearances—to figure out the implications. Once it did, it informed me of your little manipulations.”

  The second of Gered’s bodyguards moved behind Driskell, so he couldn’t continue to back away. His heart started to pound. The little knife at his waist seemed a mockery.

  “You were good. You had me convinced, despite the sheer ridiculousness of the scenario. Even had me growing fond of you.”

  He was going to die. Or be Sedated, which was just as bad.

  Worse, they were all going to die. Despite weeks of trying to at least sow confusion amongst the army, none of it was going to matter; none of it had made a difference. He looked around. Gered had waved in a few more men, and Driskell was now surrounded.

  “I almost had you Sedated as soon as I found out, but then I realized you would be more useful alive, then and now. Can you imagine what someone like me could do with a power like yours?”

  Driskell blinked. “If you think I’m going to work for you—”

  “I know what the Conclave does with their aether. I can do it too.”

  No, he wasn’t going to die. He was going to be kept prisoner, an aether cow for Gered to use to slowly eke out his own place of power.

  While everyone else died.

  Despair clouded his mind. Who had he thought he was? Some sort of hero out of folklore or legend? Just because he had some magical powers? What, he would save the day by making a few soldiers feel guilty about their orders?

  He was nothing. Just a naïve attaché with dying dreams of more.

  Aleena stood outside the palace, surveying the palace courtyard. There were still far too many people milling about in the open for her liking.

  She strode over to the nearest group. “You need to be away from the gates!” she shouted. “Get inside!”

  Then a few people started screaming and pointing.

  A single bloodhawk spiraled over the palace walls, shrieking—and then fell to the courtyard stones with, not an arrow, but what looked like a hole punched through its chest.

  She spun to see Vaughn striding toward her, bow in hand and a grim look on his face. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything from Ivana?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “And I don’t dare contact her in case it ruins whatever she’s doing.”

  He nodded and looked up at the sky. “They had half a dozen bloodgiants that I could see, and Danton told me there were even more.” He shook his head. “If she doesn’t take that thing out soon, more than bloodhawks will be in the city, and at that point, we’re in serious trouble.”

  His qixli started glowing. Vaughn snatched it out of its holder and held it out.

  Thrax’s voice came through. “Vaughn, the bloodhawks and bloodspiders have kept the men on the walls from being effective, and the gates are buckling. Commander Moqel is falling back and mobilizing the street units for killing bloodbane. He predicts once the walls have been breached, the soldiers will head straight for the palace and attempt to seize it. He’ll do what he can to harry them, but with the bloodbane—”

  There was a distant rumble, not through the qixli, but from the direction of the river. “Strike that,” Thrax said. “The gates are officially down. Gotta go.”

  Vaughn swore. “Thanks.” He put the qixli back into his pouch. “Get the rest of these people inside. Looks like we’re in serious trouble.”

  Paran took Driskell’s arm. Was it his imagination, or did the soldier look a little reluctant? “Dal Driskell,” he said. “Come with me, please.”

  But Driskell wasn’t even burning aether. He didn’t even have his useless self-enhancement going.

  Paran leaned toward him. “For what it’s worth,” he said under his breath, “I’m sorry. But duty is duty.”

  Driskell stared at him.

  No. It had worked. If Paran was reluctant, then how many others would be as well?

  Driskell jerked his arm out of Paran’s hand.

  “No,” he said.

  Paran looked nervous, and Gered laughed. “Come now, Dal, do you really think to—”

  “No!” Driskell screamed, and as he did, he pushed the energy of burned aether outward, not in a blast, not in a rush, but he forced that tiny trickle as though through a hundred tiny holes.

  All half dozen soldiers around him drew up short, including Gered’s own bodyguards.

  Gered stopped laughing.

  Driskell backed away. “You will not touch me,” he said through clenched teeth.

  The soldiers stared at him. Paran said soothingly, “Of course we won’t, Dal. If you’ll just come—”

  He kept pushing that trickle through those holes. “You will let me go.”

  “I don’t know, Commander,” another soldier said. “I think we ought to let him go.”

  “Seize him, idiots!” Gered snapped. “He’s using his demonspawn magic on you.”

  Still, all the soldiers hesitated.

  Gered’s eye twitched. He growled and lunged at Driskell himself.

  Driskell darted out of the way and fled the only direction open to him: the now-empty bridge toward Cohoxta.

  Vaughn stood at a window overlooking the palace courtyard with his mother. Beyond the walls, the street below the palace appeared to be in flames.

  But right in front of him, the courtyard stones were awash with blood and bodies. A bloodgiant had smashed down the palace gates a few minutes ago, and bloodbane were everywhere. It took only a glance to realize they were working together like a well-trained squad, allowing each other the space to capitalize on their strengths and leaving their own soldiers alone. It was intelligent behavior when the brains of those demons had none.

  Vaughn didn’t see the offending creature that was lending its intelligence to these beasts. He could only hope Ivana was close to her mark, or this would be over soon. Even as he watched, a pair of bloodhawks broke off from harrying a half dozen soldiers into a corner—to let the advancing bloodwolves take over—and spiraled upward toward an upper-story window. One of them slammed into the window, and the glass cracked. It flew back, spiraled up, and then dove back down toward the same window.

  “That’s it,” Vaughn said, swinging his bow off his back. “I’m going out there. I should have been out there a long time ago.”

  His mother grabbed his arm. “Teyrnon—”

  He shook her off and strode away. He could help. He didn’t know if it would be enough to buy Ivana more time, but at this point, it hardly mattered. If they lost Cohoxta, which seemed likely at this point, this was over, and he was dead.

  He pulled out his qixli as he walked. “Thrax,” he said. “Are you nearby? I’m done hiding.”

  “Vaughn—”

  “I’ll be out in the palace courtyard in about two minutes. I could use you.”

  He shoved the qixli back in the pouch and kept going.

  Aleena was in the entry hall, trying to soothe the panicked people crammed into it.

  She gave him a salute as he passed, and he nodded tightly in her direction.

  At least some people understood.

  The hundreds of terrified faces made him even more determined. This was, in a very real way, all his fault.

  If he died doing penance for it, so be it.

  Thrax must have been nearby because he was waiting by the palace doors by the time Vaughn marched ou
t of them.

  He made his way to Vaughn’s side. “Orders?”

  “Focus on the bloodbane. Take them out,” Vaughn said. “All of them. Just try not to get any of our own soldiers caught up in it—and for Rhianah’s sake, do not set the palace on fire, or you’ll do their work for them.”

  “Got it, captain,” Thrax said. He conjured a tiny fireball in his hand and took off running.

  Vaughn burned aether and turned invisible, surveying the situation. He noted the broken wall and gauged his ability to climb the detritus to the top.

  He could do it. He slung his bow onto his back, ran across the courtyard and over to the wall, dodging bloodbane and soldiers as he went, and began climbing.

  At the top, he gained his footing, and without hesitation grabbed his bow again and sighted the bloodhawks that were working on breaking through the palace windows. It was too far for the accuracy he needed—with a normal bow and arrow.

  He let loose one of Tani’s arrows.

  The arrow pierced the bloodhawk through and still flew for a few feet on the other side until it hit the wall of the palace and, thankfully, its journey was arrested.

  The bloodhawk fell to the ground and didn’t move again.

  He let go of his invisibility, threw out a hand, and grabbed the water in a second bloodhawk’s body in midair.

  It flapped its wings and struggled against his hold. “You want me?” Vaughn shouted. “Come and get me!”

  At the same time, Thrax let a fireball go. It slammed into the head of a bloodwolf—knocking it clean off.

  The screams of humans and shrieks of unnatural beasts quieted as every living creature in the courtyard momentarily redirected their attention to either Thrax or himself—bloodbane and human alike.

  It was as though they had received new orders: eliminate the greatest threats.

  A bloodhawk that had made it into the palace burst back out of the broken window and flew directly toward him. A half dozen of its companions joined him on the way.

  And on the ground, any bloodbane near Thrax turned to face him instead. He grinned savagely at them, and a moment later, his entire body was wreathed in flame.

  Soldiers—enemy and ally alike—ran from him.

  Vaughn reached for another of Tani’s arrows and turned toward the demons headed his way, its jaw set. He lined them up. And with some instinctual burst of aether, he let it go.

  The arrow tore holes through three of the bloodhawks before losing its momentum.

  Vaughn blinked. My gods.

  He drew another arrow and did the same to another three—and at the moment the seventh had almost reached him, a fireball flew through the air and knocked the bloodhawk down to the ground in a flaming mess.

  A row of ornamental bushes lit on fire. Vaughn cursed, pulled water out of the nearest source he could feel, and doused it. “Watch it!” he shouted to Thrax.

  “Sorry!”

  But there was no more time for words.

  A bloodgiant had turned his way.

  He pushed against the water in its body, keeping it from drawing closer, drew another arrow, and sent it through its skull.

  His quiver was emptying faster than he would have liked, so he slung his bow on his back, grabbed another bloodhawk swooping toward him, and flung it hard into the side of the palace.

  It fell to the ground, dazed, and went up in flames a moment later.

  He blinked and shuddered. The aether literally felt like it was boiling within his veins—without the heat.

  And yet, incredibly, he still had more.

  He looked up at the sky, down at the ground, and selected his next target.

  A red glow lit the night sky, and Driskell was racing right toward it in an effort to lose Gered.

  He almost came barreling out directly into the middle of a street brawl.

  He backpedaled and hid around the nearest corner, then peeked out.

  Some of Cohoxta’s Watchmen were in the street fighting Gered’s soldiers. The building behind them, which looked like a guardhouse for a manor beyond a well-kept lawn, was alight and already crumbling.

  He felt sick. Hopefully no one had been inside.

  What was worse, the flames were spreading. Even as he watched, a breeze blew several burning brands to the next rooftop, which began to burn, and glowing embers floated down to the grass. The blades caught, flared, and died out with a wisp of smoke, but there were more embers coming.

  The manor had its own walls and gates, but they were decorative rather than defensive, and the gates already lay broken on the ground—and ineffective to stop sparks floating on the breeze, functional or not.

  Driskell swore under his breath, feeling paralyzed by his inability to help here, either. What good had escaping done if he couldn’t help? What could he do, charm the flames into submission?

  Vaughn could use water, and he wasn’t here. Suddenly, there was a flash of light, and Danton appeared next to him.

  Driskell stumbled back, startled.

  Danton’s face broke into a grin. “Driskell?” He staggered a little, and then shook his head. “I saw someone who looked like you, and I thought it had to be my imagination! Yaotel said you’d been captured.”

  “I was. And brought with the army. I just escaped.”

  Danton clasped him on the shoulder. “I’m glad to see you. But why are you here?”

  “It’s the direction that happened to be available.” Driskell glanced around, looking for Gered, but the commander was nowhere in sight.

  “It’s good you chose this street,” Danton said. “Three streets over, there’s a bloodgiant stomping down the street and smashing anything in its path.” Danton stared in the direction of the aforementioned street, his jaw twitching. “Bloodbane are running amok in the city. Another bloodgiant just smashed the palace walls down, and enemy soldiers have surrounded it. I assume they’re waiting for bloodbane to kill all our soldiers defending the palace before moving in to seize it. It doesn’t look good.”

  “But what happened? Did the enemy army start a fire in the city?” Gered was planning on mass executions, but, burning skies, he hadn’t said anything about burning the entire city to the ground!

  Driskell shook his head. “Believe it or not, it was bloodbane. I saw them from on top of a nearby building. A dozen bloodhawks flew in with burning bloodspiders in their claws and dropped them on random rooftops. This entire street is going up in flames, not just this guardhouse. I can only assume it was a tactic designed to keep our soldiers away from the palace and distracted, but if these flames get out of control…”

  There wouldn’t be a city left to defend. “What can I do?” Driskell whispered.

  Danton surveyed the burning buildings. “I’m no soldier. I can hold my own in a fistfight, but this is a little beyond my ken. I’ve been trying to keep an eye on what’s happening around the city for Vaughn and the commander and report back. Then I saw the fires start.” Danton jerked his head toward the manor behind him. “This street is just below the palace and has all four of the Gan’s city manors. I don’t give one whit about the Gan’s fancy houses, but there are hundreds of families packed into them—mostly refugees from surrounding villages. I say we need to figure out a way to deal with this fire.”

  “Can you bring buckets of water from the river, quickly?” Driskell asked.

  Danton shook his head. “Already thought about that. I’d never get ahead of it, and going back and forth that quickly so many times would kill me.” He looked at Driskell. “Ideas?”

  Driskell looked at the men fighting in the street. One of their own soldiers ran one of the enemy through, and Driskell had to look away. It was madness. All of this was pure madness. To think what they could accomplish if people put as much effort into useful applications as they did into slaughtering each other…

  Yes. What they could accomplish, if only they put their minds to it.

  He knew what he could do.

  Driskell set his jaw and marched out
into the street.

  “Driskell? Driskell!” Danton shouted.

  Driskell could hear the panic in Danton’s voice, but he closed it out, lest he lose his nerve. He gathered in his aether, held it till it boiled, and halted in the middle of the street. Then, just like he had before, he pushed it out—controlled, tiny streams through tiny holes—and shouted. “Stop!”

  To his utmost surprise…they did.

  Enemy and friend alike stopped what they were doing to look at him.

  He hadn’t planned this out. He had only the vaguest notion of how to do what he wanted to do. But he knew what needed to be done, and the manpower was literally scattered across Cohoxta to do it. He poured more of his aether into his bubble and expanded it farther than he had ever dared. “Put down your weapons. Can’t you see there’s a fire that needs dealt with?”

  About half of the men, mostly those closest to him, looked at the now two burning buildings. The other half seemed puzzled.

  “What are you, idiots?” he shouted. “Why are you having a street brawl when a city is burning down around you?”

  Was it his imagination, or were the buildings on the opposite side of the street starting to burn as well?

  He shoved down his panic and pointed down the street. “Those here to defend, make a water line to the nearest well that way.” He pointed the other way. “Those here to attack, make a water line that way.”

  The friendly troops moved to act, while the enemy started at him, even more befuddled.

  “What if this were your town?” he pleaded with the enemy troops. Your homes, he suggested silently. “What kind of monsters are you?” Your families.

  The flames appeared to spread even farther, though, curiously, Driskell felt no additional heat.

  Some of those closest cried out in panic and dropped their weapons. They began to respond to Driskell’s order, some of them even shouting at the ones who were still standing still to get moving.

  “Would you want to go home and find your home in ashes?” Driskell continued. He pushed even more aether into the words, playing off everything he’d been speaking to these soldiers for over a week. “Your families slaughtered in the streets? Why are you even here? Who told you to come? Commander Gered? The Conclave? Some noble who doesn’t care if you die here today? Do you even care about this cause, or did they tell you there were demonspawn here?” One of the homes melted into ash. He could have sworn he heard screaming and pleading.