Jerlo took his seat on the other side of the desk and pushed at the papers littering its pitted surface. “Sarn?”
“Sarn,” Nolo confirmed, keeping his hand over his eyes. The Litherians had an obsession for lumir-eyed statues, and their emotionless glowing eyes reminded him of Sarn. He shuddered.
“What’s he done now? Can't he stay out of trouble for a couple of hours?” Jerlo tried to run a hand through his afro then gave it up as a lost cause.
“Will you punish him for running off? You never said, and I want to close the issue.”
Jerlo waved a hand in dismissal.
“No punishment?”
“No, he came back. I don't care about the rest.” Jerlo leaned back in his chair and blew out a breath. “What will you do with him later tonight?”
It took Nolo a moment to recall a new day had dawned, and he'd end it with another walk about the enchanted forest. But the Kid should stay away from there for a while. “Drills maybe—or I might take him on patrol but—”
Yeah, but a massive enchanted tree had contemplated kidnapping the Kid. Why had the forest taken an interest in him?
Jerlo shook his head. “Too much risk, no patrols, not after what happened today. I don’t want to give the forest access to him. I can’t have him disappearing for good because a tree decided to walk off with him. No, the Kid stays here.” Jerlo tented his fingers and considered. “I like the drills idea but no archery. Anything else is fine.”
“You’re right. But his ability to dead reckon is useful, especially in an enchanted wonderland.” Nolo had come to rely on said ability, but he shifted in his chair, avoiding the commander’s keen eyes instead of admitting it.
A knock sounded before Jerlo could comment, rescuing Nolo from an uncomfortable situation. Ranispara poked her head in. For a moment, the years fell away, and there stood the nineteen-year-old girl in braids Gregori had wed. Nolo blinked and eleven years fell back into place recasting the awkward girl into a woman of thirty.
“We’ve got a problem—a big one,” she said looking pissed enough to bite someone.
They both launched themselves out of their chairs as she outlined their worst nightmare. Human agency, not an enchanted forest, had kidnapped Sarn.
“What do you know about this?” Jerlo snapped at her.
While not tall for a woman, Ranispara still had a hand span on their boss.
“A certain husband of mine has conveniently vanished, and this showed up.” She held out a slip of paper.
Jerlo scanned its contents before crumpling it up and tossing it over his shoulder. It ricocheted off two towers of paperwork before rolling to a stop by a dragon-shaped inkwell. Both towers shuddered on impact, but neither one toppled. Jerlo neither noticed nor cared.
But Ranispara did and a decision crystalized in her dark eyes to involve a third party with neat handwriting and no talent for skulking about an enchanted forest. Nolo approved of the decision; it would keep the Rangers' other problem member, a merchant’s son named Jallister, occupied.
“You think your husband took him?” Jerlo eyed the lone female ranger in the ranks and accepted her nod as gospel.
“Yes, I do. He’s done this before.”
They all acknowledged that grim truth with a nod. How far would Gregori take the Kid this time? There was no knowing until the fool turned up.
“Why now? Why this morning?”
No one had an answer for Jerlo’s question.
“The real question is, what can we do about it?” Nolo clenched his fists. He wanted to commandeer the next ship and spearhead a search, but a yawn reminded him he'd been awake since yesterday afternoon and so had Jerlo judging by the dark circles ringing the commander’s eyes. They made his vulpine face look more raccoon in the lumir light.
“What can we do other than wait? We don’t know where Gregori’s taking him, and there’s no boat out there capable of following.” Ranispara shook her head and bit her lip to keep from screaming in frustration. Judging by the way she gripped her upper arms, she wanted to strangle her husband too.
Right now, Nolo empathized. He would love to choke some sense into his best friend as well. “We have to do something. We have to make some attempt to get the Kid back.”
“My husband planned this well. There’s no other ship ready to weigh anchor.”
“Do we at least know where he’s headed?”
“Next stop is Racine, twenty miles downriver.” Ranispara gestured eastwards at the dragon statue glaring at them.
“You don't expect it to stop there.” Nolo gripped the back of a chair, wishing it were Gregori’s neck.
“Oh, I’m certain it will, but I doubt my husband will disembark.”
“Why not?”
Ranispara shook her head, and a set of gold tubes dangling from her earlobes chimed. Gregori had given them to her on their last anniversary on the advice of his wife. “Too easy, Sarn could follow the river back. He can run those twenty miles in four or five hours if he’s motivated. And he will be motivated. He won’t leave his brother behind.”
Jerlo patted Nolo’s arm, dragging his attention down to his diminutive boss. But the tactician had nothing constructive to add. “You get some sleep. I need you sharp for tonight. There’s no knowing what nonsense the forest will throw at us.”
“You didn’t sanction this—” Nolo gestured to the crumpled message. Anger at Gregori scorched his eyes. Or maybe it was exhaustion burning them.
“What the hell do you think?”
“I don’t know sir, hence my question.” Nolo’s statement caught Ranispara off guard, and she turned her glare on their boss.
“Oh hell, not you too, if I had something to do with this, I wouldn’t have entrusted it to Gregori.”
The man had a point. Had Jerlo staged this, he would be on the boat with Sarn not standing around his office.
Nolo accepted the rationale with a nod. “Maybe they’ll leave us alone for a while—the forest I mean.” Doubtful since the enchanted forest had entered one of its active periods. Who knew how long it would last or what trouble it would cause. Nolo opened his mouth to remind Jerlo about the incident with the Queen of All Trees.
Jerlo shook his head, and regret bowed his shoulders. “I know what you’re thinking, and if your fears come to pass, there’s nothing we can do about it. All we can do is pray and wait for his return.”
“And punish the perpetrator,” Ranispara put in, and there was murder in her eyes.
Nolo wished his friend much luck in surviving his next encounter with his wife.
One corner of Jerlo’s mouth quirked up, and an evil light glittered in his black eyes. “Oh, don’t you worry about that. I have something to discourage such nonsense in the future.”
Ranispara reflected Nolo’s skepticism at their boss. “What thing?”
“Nothing you need to worry about. Gregori will be too busy to pull another stunt ever again. Go on. I need you at your sharpest.” Jerlo gestured for Nolo to return to safety and plenty to wait on tenterhooks for Sarn to return.
“Shall I set a watch for him?”
Jerlo nodded and gestured for Ranispara to go.
She saluted, then set off at a dead run to carry out her orders.
Nolo wanted to follow her. Instead, he nodded to his boss and allowed his feet to take him the twenty turnings to his door. But once he reached it, he stood there glaring at the polished wood. Inside waited a family he had no desire to see.
Oh, there was nothing wrong with his family. He had a lovely wife and son, but the Rangers were his life, and they left little time for anything. Or energy since the night's doings had wrung him dry. Then there was Sarn. Worry bubbled up burning worse than heartburn. What if the Kid was hurt or in danger? Had his friend gone too far this time?
Nolo rubbed his throbbing temples. He needed to distract his wife with something. Anything, so long as it took her mind off the list of chores waiting for him.
But his thoughts kept circling back to the missing Sarn.
Then he blinked at the door in surprise. Could Sarn’s kidnapping be the answer? He pushed open the door and found Inari on the other side.
“Something’s happened,” she stated. Her dark eyes probed his for answers.
Nolo nodded and told her everything while she plied him with food. By meal’s end, he found himself tucked into bed as Inari hurried around the room. Determination had her throwing off flowing garments and trading them for more practical garb. Despite giving birth to a son eight years ago, she had retained an almost hourglass figure because going anywhere involved a lot of walking. She twisted her long her into a braid, kissed his brow, and left the suite to join her best friend, Ranispara, out on the green.
After she had left, Nolo threw off the covers and padded to the window. He sat down on a plush chair intending to pray. But a gleam independent of the rising sun drew his eye to a lambent profile fading into the dawn. Opening the window, Nolo grimaced at the creak it made. Since he'd never replaced the rusted hinges, he had trouble budging it. But it gave finally, and he leaned out into the crisp morning.
“You leave him alone. Sarn belongs to us.”
If she heard, she gave no sign. Nor did she reappear though he doubted the Queen of All Trees had gone far. Still, Nolo repeated his injunction until it turned into a desperate plea. He prayed until thirst stole his voice. Would she leave Sarn alone or would she kidnap him too?
Chapter 7
I had to do it. But the truth failed to stop Gregori’s conscience from stabbing him right where it hurt the most.
Sarn’s scarred cheek rested against the weathered deck, leaving his perfect right side visible. The Kid looked so young and vulnerable sprawled there.
Maybe he should have come up with a different plan—No, he'd had to do this. The Kid had potent stuff racing around his body, and nobody wanted to deal with it. Nolo coddled him, and Jerlo pretended the eye-glow-thing was just for decoration. How did the commander know that radiance was benign?
The Kid had something in him—something ready to break loose. And it must have gotten free. The Kid had never shaken hands with self-control. Impulse would drive him straight into trouble, hence this intervention.
Damn it. The kid looked as innocent as a child, and the sight pricked Gregori with guilt. Judging by the looks he received, the sight had the same effect on the deckhands. Perhaps he'd best stop looming over the unconscious Kid and stow him below.
Gregori slung Sarn over his shoulder, and one of the Kid’s floating ribs poked him. Gregori shook his head. The Kid weighed less than someone who stood closer to seven-feet than six should.
“My young friend isn’t a fan of boats as you can see.”
After throwing out that non-sequitur, Gregori headed below decks. Glances both hostile and curious sped his steps.
It took a bit of maneuvering to fit himself, and his burden, through a hole meant for sleek youths. Both he and the Kid had shoulders as broad as the River Nirthal Valley. With a little finagling, Gregori managed it and the narrow passageway beyond. He chose the first unoccupied chamber he passed and unslung his burden.
Sarn's long limbs spilled off the cot. Gregori bent to loosen the Kid’s cloak but jerked back when it shocked his hand. He stared at Sarn’s cloak, but the dark green cloth lay there doing nothing exciting. Perhaps he'd imagined the zap.
For the moment, the Kid appeared to be fine. Let the situation continue for the foreseeable future, please. Sarn tended to have an adverse reaction to anything chemical, making this abduction risky. Still, he should check. Looks when applied to the Kid were deceiving.
Heartbeat? Found it. Still breathing? Check. Usual pallor? A glance confirmed it. Eyes doing their creepy glow thing?
Gregori paused his mental checklist and dithered for a moment then opened one of the Kid's eyes. Green light spilled forth lighting the cabin. The iris glowed yet the sclera and pupils looked normal. How could they be when saturated by the dreaded M-word?
How much of the Kid’s physique appeared normal but was altered? The Kid had power, but nobody wanted to find out what effect it had, least of all its unconscious owner. By all accounts, the Kid’s eyes had already been luminescent at fourteen. If the report gathering dust in a locked drawer of Jerlo’s office was correct. Six years was a long time for something to be working on a growing boy. What alterations had it made? Did Sarn even know?
No, which made today’s test even more important. Finding one’s limits was part of growing up. At the rate Jerlo and Nolo were going, the Kid would die before they allowed him to seek those limits.
“Time to see what you can do, lad.” Gregori patted Sarn’s cheek then subsided to a chest bolted to the wall. He shivered when a gust of wind ruffled his hair and kicked up the corner of Sarn’s cloak. It felt as if a large bird had swooped in, but Gregori ignored the sensation. All this thinking was making him crazy. It was time to stop.
A ghostly child settled at Sarn’s bedside, but Gregori looked right through it and yawned. A tear rolled down the ghost’s translucent face as it turned longing eyes on Sarn. He was so full of life and magic. He must know a spell to save them both from the Dark Thing and its vile plans. The specter laid its head against Sarn’s chest, and curled up in a ball of misery, seeking comfort from an unconscious source.
Gregori stretched tired muscles and shivered as his breath misted in the air. Why was it so cold in here?
Gregori checked the porthole, but the aperture was closed. Rising, he searched for a blanket, and the exercise warmed him as he exited the cold pocket stalled by Sarn.
Flummoxed, Gregori sat on the floor. It had been a long and strange night with few answers. Perhaps this stationary cold spot was all part of the night’s weirdness. And he still had no idea what had gone on in the forest. Another yawn snuck up on Gregori. Whatever had happened, it had unsettled Nolo and Jerlo both. So the trouble involved yonder unconscious Kid making this test even more necessary.
Gregori smiled as he pondered how to tell Nolo his precious charge was alone in the enchanted forest. His friend’s reaction would be priceless. “You’d better learn something from all this. If I went to all this trouble for nothing, I'll take it out of your hide.”
It was an empty threat. After what that psychopath Hadrovel had done, no Ranger would dare harm Sarn. Gregori passed a hand over his eyes, but the disturbing memory refused to recede.
Like a broken doll, Sarn had lain on cold stone, his arms and legs bent at odd angles. The white of his bones had peeked out of a jagged gash bathing the left side of his face in blood. Gregori could still smell the sweet metallic tang of the cooling mage blood he'd knelt in. A sightless green eye had stared past him from a disfigured child’s face, and he’d stretched a hand out to close it. Feeling warm flesh under his fingers, he’d shouted.
‘He’s not dead.’
And the Rangers had done everything they could over the last five years to keep the Kid alive.
“You’re still a pain in the ass.” Gregori patted Sarn’s knee. “But I prefer you that way. You keep life interesting, Kid.”
Not even flippancy could lighten the shadow that incident had cast. The Rangers had failed, and a fifteen-year-old boy had paid the price in blood and pain. By the grace of Jerlo and Nolo’s God, the incident hadn’t crippled Sarn. But guilt and regret had become a lens coloring every decision the Rangers made about Sarn. Could one test change that?
Hours later, Gregori unslung his burden. His thick fingers poked right through the cringing ghost child as he felt for a pulse. Without magic, Gregori could not see the ghost, but he could feel its cold unnaturalness as his index finger located an artery.
A strong pulse beat in Sarn’s throat. Relieved, Gregori backed off and bumped his elbow into a tree. He ignored the thing since this was Shayari and there were billions of those gigantic weeds around. So far, the Kid had experienced no adverse reactions to the drug nor
had the Kid awoken yet. But Sarn would, thanks to the stimulant he'd poured down the Kid’s throat. It could take anywhere from a few minutes to an hour—if he'd dosed the Kid right.
Since conceiving this plan, Gregori had confided it in no one. So, asking for dosage advice had been out of the question. And the Kid's body had a nasty habit of rejecting everything except food and water. Well, it was in Fates’ hands now.
Worry gnawed on Gregori's guts again as he sought a good spot to wait. He had to make certain the Kid did wake up. Branches allowed a few shafts of sunlight to spear through the perpetual gloom as trees gathered around his charge.
Yes, the trees were enchanted. But they only reacted to stimulus because some ancient lunatic had programmed them to. So what if they watched him and the still-unconscious Kid? They were supposed to watch everything coming and going under their boughs.
But every minute Gregori hovered over the Kid’s prone form, the forest loomed a little more over him. Maybe he should put some distance between them. Eyes bored into him from all sides as if a pack of children stood behind him, staring.
Gregori’s skin crawled, and a spot between his shoulder blades itched. Where was the danger targeting him? Nothing but still trees surrounded him. Silence reigned, and nothing dared to interrupt it. Turning, he checked his surroundings for the danger thrilling along his nerves and missed seeing the startled ghost child rushing into the forest.
Gregori waited for the trees to do something. But they continued to stand sentinel unconcerned with him and his insignificant doings. After dragging in a deep breath, he fought to get a grip. Six hours on a boat after witnessing the forest’s behavior last night had unhinged him. The sooner he got out of here, the better.
Curse Breaker: Books 1-4 (Preview) Page 8
