Until All Bonds Are Broken

by Tim Frankovich

  Master Korda looked up sharply. “Who said our magic came from the Otherworld?”

  Jamana shifted his weight nervously. “I believe the Eldani who was here said that. I could be mistaken.”

  “Of course he would say that.” The Master nodded. “But as your friend Seri pointed out, we cannot exactly trust his word for anything.”

  “Has there been any news from her, Master?”

  “None.” He shook his head. “But neither do I expect any, unless she fulfills her quest or gives up entirely. In either case, I expect it to be some time.”

  Jamana agreed. He could not imagine Seri giving up. He waited a few more moments before asking his next question. “Does the book explain how the Laws of Cursings and Bindings were created?”

  Master Korda tilted his head and fixed Jamana with a curious stare. “Why do you ask of this?”

  “I…” Jamana swallowed. “You have spoken of the end of all curses. And Seri asked me to learn what I could of that time while she was gone. If the curses are to end, would we not need to find out how they began?”

  Master Korda folded his hands together. “I do not think that will be our task, acolyte. A curse has been lifted; that we know.” He gestured to the book. “Aharu said that when one curse was lifted, it would signal the end of all curses. But this is a thing that Theon will do, not we ourselves.”

  “But… the Laws were enacted by the mages. Shouldn’t they be the ones to end them?”

  “The Law was given by Theon. The mages merely enforced it.”

  “The curses came from the mages, then.”

  Korda nodded. “So it is.”

  “Then we should end them.”

  “Your stubbornness has not lessened, acolyte.” Master Korda raised a finger. “I have been trying to remove this negative trait from you since you arrived here. You do not seem to be learning.”

  “I am sorry, Master.” It still made sense to him. If the original mages had been the ones to enact the curses, then it would require mages to end them. Master Korda seemed to be implying that if Theon didn’t like the curses, he would end them himself. Then why hadn’t he done so years ago?

  Master Korda looked at the book in silence for a moment. “The book does speak of this,” he said at last.

  Jamana felt a vibration run through him, as if the magic of Zes Sivas reacted to the words.

  “Aharu seemed reluctant to speak of it. I think she regretted the action, though she was a part of it.”

  “She regretted the Lords’ Betrayal, or the Laws themselves?”

  “That is difficult to make out. But I suspect she regretted all of it. The Lords’ Betrayal is the worst of it, of course.”

  Of course. While the Laws of Cursings and Bindings had been intended for good, what the Lords had done twisted it in a perverse way. Such selfishness.

  Master Korda closed the book and stood. “I did summon you, acolyte. You should pack your things.”

  Jamana blinked. “Pack, Master?”

  “I have received a summons to return home at once. You will come with me.”

  Jamana frowned. Master Mages rarely returned home, unless they were needed to help with a serious problem. “Is it about the succession, Master?”

  “No, that is not at issue. Despite the horrendous actions of Volraag of Varioch, there is no question of the Lordship. Bakari has assumed his father’s place.” It went without saying that Bakari now possessed the distinction of being the first Lord of Antises without any magical power.

  “Then…?”

  “Ours is not to question.” Master Korda placed one hand on the book. “At the very least, I can inform him of what we have learned here. And what we continue to learn.” He looked up. “What are you waiting for? Go pack! We leave in the morning!” He looked back down at the book. “And we will take this with us.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

  DRAVID FOCUSED AND held his hands above his head. He spread them in slow arcs out and down. Golden light followed. He wrinkled his brow. The tightness in his chest increased. The heat in his throat and behind his eyes grew hotter by the moment. He spread the glowing shield even further. His vision grew hazy.

  “Aaagh!” He let his arms fall and the magic dissipated. He sat alone on the hill outside the village.

  Seri approached a moment later. “You made a shield over your entire head and shoulders,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve seen you do anything that big.”

  “It’s not enough,” Dravid grumbled.

  “What are you expecting?” She knelt beside him. “You absorbed a tiny part of Forerunner’s magic. You can’t equal him.”

  “I know that. But the limitations frustrate me.” He focused and drew a small bar of light in the air. He took hold of it. “I can craft small items like this, and keep them around for a good bit of time before the strain builds up. But anything beyond say, a foot in diameter… I can’t keep it stable more than a few seconds.”

  “I think it’s amazing you can do it at all.”

  Dravid ran his thumb and forefinger over his eyes. “I need to be better. Otherwise, I’m just a drag on you.”

  “What? That’s not true! I would never have gotten this far without you!”

  He gave her a rueful smile. “Even if that were true, you don’t need me now. You’ve found Marshal. He has the power. He can save you when you get into trouble. You don’t need me.”

  Seri bit her lip. “He has great power, yes. But he doesn’t know how to use it. We need to teach him.”

  “You can do that.”

  “But I can do it better with you! We’re a team. Our team has just grown. That’s all.”

  “I suppose you’re Bound to him now, after that rescue yesterday.” Dravid knew it sounded petty, but couldn’t help himself.

  “I have no idea. Remember? Forerunner is suppressing our Bindings.”

  “Oh, right.” He glanced around. “Where is Forerunner, anyway?”

  “He’s in the village with Marshal, actually helping people. I’m surprised. It doesn’t seem like him to do physical labor for others.” She hesitated. “You still talk with him, don’t you?”

  “Who, Forerunner? Sometimes. Why?”

  Seri looked around, as if making sure no one else could hear them. “Back at the sanctuary, Forerunner said something about my ‘heritage.’ Yesterday, Hanirel used it too, talking about the star in my eye.”

  “You want me to see if I can find out what he meant.”

  Seri nodded.

  “Well…” Dravid tossed his light bar and caught it. “That’s something I can do, at least.”

  Marshal dropped an enormous pile of firewood and wiped the sweat from his forehead. His offer to help the people of Tungrorum recover from the eidola attacks had led to many chores of varying degrees of difficulty. Still, growing up in Drusa’s Crossing, he worked at nearly everything imaginable. A Curse Boy couldn’t be trusted with regular jobs.

  How far he had come since then. His curse was gone. He could talk with anyone he wanted to. And people actually looked to him as a leader. The people of this village, in fact, regarded him as a great hero. That could lead to some problems once the word spread. They had all heard Hanirel call him the son of Varion. Trying to deny it would only make it spread faster, so he hadn’t even tried.

  Across the road, he saw Victor sitting at a bench with some children. Forerunner had been right about his injuries. They healed quickly. But Marshal forced him to rest today, just to be sure. To pass the time, he tried to teach the children how to play Mages & Lords.

  “No, that’s the Queen,” he heard Victor say. “She either moves the King to the bottom of the deck, or lets you play the next card.”

  One of the children asked a question.

  “Yes, she goes with the King to the bottom of the deck. Very good.”

  Another comment, followed by laughter.

  “What? No, the Queen doesn’t have anything to do with the General! Why do you even ask that?”


  Marshal laughed as well. Victor with children wasn’t a sight he had expected to see any time soon.

  “The card game reflects more truths than most people realize.”

  Marshal turned in surprise to see Wolf standing behind him. The former member of his squad had remained aloof throughout the last couple of days, not deigning to participate in their labors. Even Forerunner had helped.

  “Have you come to finally help us out here?”

  Wolf did not seem to notice the question. He continued watching Victor for a few moments. “This thing you are doing,” he said at last. “It is unusual.”

  “You mean helping people?”

  Wolf nodded. “You seem to do that wherever you go. You fought to protect us in battle. You tried to stop the entire war. And now you help these people. Yet none of them can do anything for you.”

  “I care about people. It’s not that complicated.”

  “They should worship you and bring you gifts.”

  “Uh, no. They shouldn’t.”

  “How else will your power grow?”

  “I’m… not trying to make my power grow.”

  Wolf cocked his head, as if trying to comprehend this strange thought.

  “Remember our friends who died in the battles?” Marshal asked. “Callus and Gallus and Albus? I don’t want anyone else to die. Or suffer. Or be cursed.”

  “Then you should seek more power. It is the only way to stop these things.”

  Marshal considered that for a moment. “All right, that does make some sense. If I am to change things in this world, I will need all the power I can get.” Wolf nodded in approval. “But I don’t need people to worship me for that. I’d rather have friends.”

  Wolf narrowed his eyes.

  Marshal pointed at Victor. “Victor can do things that I can’t. So can Topleb. Rufus knows things about farming that I’d never think of, and that’s been important for these people. And now, with Seri and her friends joining us…” He spread his arms. “I grow more powerful. Through my friends.”

  “You seek friendships… to gain power?”

  “No, no. I seek friendships because… they’re good. We help each other. And through that, I guess we gain power, but that’s not the purpose.”

  Wolf clapped his hands. Marshal jumped. Victor and the children looked up.

  “I am learning from you,” Wolf declared. “This is good. When you desire it, you may ask a boon of me.”

  “A boon. All right. Thank you?”

  Wolf nodded and turned away. The big man strode quickly away, leaving Marshal baffled.

  Victor came up beside him. “What was that all about?”

  “Apparently, Wolf owes me a boon.”

  “What’s a boon?”

  “I have no idea.”

  For three days, Victor watched Marshal lead the party in assisting Tungrorum. They helped with numerous jobs, making up for those who had been taken away. Marshal tried several times to use the warpsteel blade to open a way to the Otherworld, but failed each attempt. Neither Seri nor Forerunner were able to help him. At last, they moved on, much to the disappointment of the grateful villagers.

  Victor walked beside Topleb as they continued on their journey. He had little knowledge of geography or maps, and Topleb was pleased to share with him.

  “We are descending out of the hill country of your land,” he explained, pointing to examples of what he meant. “The mountains you and Marshal come from are now far to the northwest from here. You cannot see them. But soon… soon it will be getting warmer.”

  “Why is that?”

  “We are descending near the coast. You notice no trees any more?”

  “I haven’t seen any in a while.”

  “They don’t grow here. In fact, your trees do not grow in Ch’olan at all.”

  “No trees?”

  “Better trees! Trees that grow wide as well as tall! Trees that grow fruit. Trees in which the animals play.”

  “We have some of those.”

  “Not like our trees.” Topleb wagged his finger. “Ch’olan has the best trees.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do say so!” Topleb exploded in laughter and Victor laughed along with him, though he wasn’t entirely sure why.

  A few more days passed. One morning, Topleb surveyed the terrain around them, then pointed to the west. Victor looked and saw a sparkle.

  “Lake Litanu,” Topleb proclaimed. He spread his arms wide and rotated in a circle. “We are in Ch’olan!”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I am a native son! Would I not know my own home?” He looked to the northwest. “I have come home!” he shouted, pounding his chest.

  The other members of the party, in varying stages of morning preparation, looked up. “Come, all of you!” Topleb called. “Today, we walk on the soil of Ch’olan! Ixchel, daughter of the homeland, you have returned!”

  Ixchel nodded. She didn’t seem as excited as he did. Then again, she never looked excited about anything.

  Rufus walked up, proudly wearing Marshal’s old sword on his belt. “This is Ch’olan? I thought you said it was beautiful, Topleb!”

  Topleb reached out and tousled Rufus’s hair. “I also said you were a smart man. Maybe I don’t get everything right.”

  “How far to our destination?” Victor asked.

  “Still quite a ways,” Topleb said. “We’ll need to bear more to the north now, if you wish to avoid Woqan. It is a mighty city, such a great city, with pyramids marking every decade of its life.”

  Victor glanced back at the rest of the party. “Yeah, I’m not thrilled with the idea of another big city. Maybe after we visit this magic place.”

  “Uh, Victor, when we stop for the night, can you, ah, train me some more with the sword?” Rufus asked.

  “Of course,” Victor said. “You’re probably better with a spear than I am, but the sword is a different thing. I like to think I’m getting pretty good at it.”

  “Again,” Topleb said, miming a throw, “if you hit them from a distance, you don’t have to worry about such things.”

  “That’s why we keep you around.”

  Marshal joined them. “Why have we stopped?”

  “Topleb wanted to let us know that we’ve arrived in Ch’olan,” Victor said.

  Marshal looked around, as if expecting to see some change. “All right. So why have we stopped?”

  Topleb threw up his hands. “I am home, silly man! Is that not something to celebrate?”

  Marshal grinned. “Of course it is. I was just…”

  “You joked?” Victor put his hand over his heart. “Seri really is changing you.”

  “I can joke,” Marshal protested.

  “I’ve never heard you,” Rufus said.

  Marshal scowled at him.

  Victor put a hand on Marshal’s shoulder. “No, this… this is a good thing, Mars. We haven’t had much to laugh about for a while. This is good.”

  “Especially since we’re in Ch’olan,” Topleb added.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

  “ARE YOU CERTAIN?” Kishin asked. He leaned forward, almost letting his hood fall away. He grabbed it and leaned back, waiting.

  “Yes, sir,” Aapo said. “The messages were quite clear. The man you are looking for is on the road from Varioch to Ch’olan. He was last seen in the village of Tungrorum only a few days ago. They’re calling him the son of Varion.”

  “And the facial scars?”

  Aapo nodded. “He had them. And traveled with a group of people, including mages and some Ch’olanese fighters. The witnesses say he rescued the village from the Eldanim and some spirits or something.”

  Kishin frowned. That was a new one. But the other news interested him much more. Marshal traveled to Ch’olan. Why? The first thought that popped into his head—that Marshal sought him out—was ridiculous. It had to be something else.

  He jumped to his feet, passed the startled Aapo, and paced about his room. Where w
ould Marshal go after being freed from his curse? He had the power of a Lord. Why didn’t he challenge his half-brother for the Lordship of Varioch?

  Except Volraag had power too. Stolen power. Maybe Marshal sought for more. So he came to Ch’olan for…

  “The high place,” he whispered. That had to be it. Everyone knew it to be a place of fell magic. And Marshal traveled in the company of mages. They would help him gain new power, the power he needed to defeat his brother. It was the only possible explanation.

  “Thank you, Aapo. I may be leaving soon. Pack my usual travel bag.”

  The servant nodded and left. Kishin took a deep breath and tossed the hood back from his face. He tired of hiding his healing from Aapo.

  As he considered what Marshal might be planning, he mechanically began to gather his weapons and gear for the trip, as he had done so many times over the past twenty years.

  “Will you kill again?”

  Kishin whirled about, dagger in hand. The voice sounded so real. But those were the words Chimon had asked him repeatedly.

  “I do not want to,” he whispered, repeating his own answer.

  “Yet you come to me still wearing a sword.”

  Kishin set the dagger down. Did he really need his weapons, if he could not—would not—kill again? He picked up the warpsteel sword. It felt so much heavier than usual. He slid it out of its sheath. The blade, so perfectly forged, gleamed even in the half-light of his room. Beautiful.

  Something drew his gaze away from the sword to the back corner of his room. A staff leaned against the wall, the staff the old man left behind after the strange conversation on the road.

  A staff could be a useful tool on the road. It could also be a weapon, though usually not for killing. Wasn’t this semantics, though? A man could be cursed for injuring someone, not just killing. The curse might not be as bad, but it would still be a curse.

  “All men are cursed.”

  Then what was the point? The priest said the answer came from Theon, but that didn’t help. Still, he had suggested one solution. A cause to fight for.

  Kishin strapped the sword to his belt, then took the staff also. He did not have a cause yet, but if he were to find one anywhere, it would be with Marshal and his companions.