“We’ll talk about that later. Right now, I need you to come with me.”
“What’s going on?”
“What makes you think anything’s going on?” Gregori poked Sarn in the ribs.
Sarn slapped the muscular Ranger’s hand away before it could deliver another poke. “Snatches of conversations,” he said distracted by his magic unspooling inside him. Had it sensed something?
“Let’s go. The—disturbance—is some way ahead.” Nolo pronounced ‘disturbance’ like a curse. His master’s grip firmed forcing Sarn to follow.
As if I could do anything else—I'm bound by the promises I made.
Beads clicked together on the bracelet Nolo always wore, as they descended the mountain trail. Ten agates, three Jaspers—supplied the magic before Sarn cut off its commentary. His magic liked rocks, even if they were part of someone else’s jewelry.
I don’t care.
But it was too late. The largest bead—a cylinder of green lumir—called to Sarn. Or maybe it was the wind soughing that eerie polysyllabic summons. He clenched his fists until his nails bit into his palms.
I've heard that phrase three times now. And each time it’d danced on the edge of understanding. What the hell is it saying?
“What’s this ‘disturbance?’”
Nolo maintained his silence because he equated freakishness with stupidity. Damn him.
“You don’t think I can understand.”
Sarn wanted to pummel something. I have a mind, and it works just fine. Or does it? Sarn went cold. The phrase ceased its looping litany, leaving behind an afterimage of a circle enclosing a thirteen-pointed star. Dread knifed through Sarn, speeding his longer strides.
Why thirteen? What does it mean? Likely nothing good.
Gravel crunched as they proceeded single-file into the falling night. Northeast of their current position, a cluster of Rangers appeared on Sarn’s map. Are they standing by the problem?
Sarn halted when he heard something other than the rattling of loose stones bouncing down the trail. Wood scraped over wood. Something thudded.
Did I just hear a whip crack? What the hell is this disturbance?
“Did you hear that?”
“I don’t have time to explain. Come on.”
Nolo’s tone gave away his worry. Something serious had happened.
Long grasses brushed their booted calves as they left the mountain behind and crossed a flat swath of greenery, heading ever nearer to the enchanted forest. Malevolence slammed into Sarn, driving him back a step. Somewhere in that trackless wilderness, something had gone terribly wrong. And they want me to do something about it? Are they insane?
We fix, said his magic.
Fix what? What happened? Do you know what mess I’m walking into?
Probably not, so Sarn gnashed his teeth in frustration and kept moving.
Sarn halted on the gravel path. In front of him, standing stones encircled the meadow in two concentric rings. They maintained a cordon the enchanted forest couldn't cross. Since Litherian hands hadn’t raised those giant stones, his magic had no interest in them until tonight. Something was different about them.
Damn Gregori and his blindfolds. Sarn felt for the knot again then stopped.
Silence fell, cutting the remaining cord between Sarn and the world beyond the blindfold. The air between the menhirs coalesced into an invisible hand shoving Sarn backward. Nolo’s grip broke as he stumbled out of the ring of stones.
Something warm brushed against his hands as Sarn raised them to examine the barrier blocking him. Particles flowed clockwise, sparking against his skin.
I'll bet they glow the same hue and intensity as my eyes. Likely, the same magic generates them both.
Nolo shook Sarn, reminding him if his master’s presence. “What happened? Why did you retreat?”
“I didn’t. It expelled me.”
“It’s never rejected you before. I don’t like it.”
Neither did Sarn. He shook off Nolo’s grip and paced. Before tonight, he’d crossed these circles of stones many times with no hindrance at all. Why is tonight different? What the hell is going on? Sarn quit pacing and explored the blindfold. It was time the damned thing came off.
“No, don’t touch it. You must leave it in place. There are too many folks abroad. We can’t let anyone see—”
My freaky eyes because the sight might drive someone to put them out. That reality bitch slapped Sarn every time he opened his eyes. The damned knot defeated his extra-large fingers putting paid to the argument.
Nolo pried his hand away from the blindfold. “Leave it. I’ll remove it when it’s safe to do so, not before.”
“Tell me what’s going on.”
“I can’t tell you what I don’t know.” Nolo tugged him southward.
“Where’re we going now?”
“To find a spot where you can cross. We’ll walk the whole damn circumference if we have to.”
So, the problem lay outside the ring of menhirs in the enchanted forest. Foreboding dragged an icy claw up Sarn’s spine. The forest functioned on magic akin to his, and it tended to wreak havoc on his control. Just what he needed on a night when his magic was already unruly.
Grass ceded to rock again, but this time, they were water-smoothed stones. Sarn grimaced at the fishy stink of the River Nirthal. It flowed east to west in a broad, lazy ribbon along the southern edge of the meadow.
Nolo crossed first. This time, when Sarn stepped across the divide, the barrier slid through his body, allowing him to pass. Shuddering at its alien feel, he trudged the ten-feet between one circle of menhirs and the other onto a rocky beach.
“Are you alright?”
Sarn nodded. Something large tore free from something else and approached. It flashed red on his head map.
“What the hell is that?”
“Look out!”
“Get down, Kid!”
“Someone grab the Kid and get him down!”
A body slammed into Sarn and bore him to the ground. Something hard and rough wrapped around his forearm and yanked on it, dragging him toward the enchanted forest. Another unidentifiable object wrapped around his upper arm adding its argument to the fray.
“Let go of me.”
Sarn scrabbled for a hold, but his fingers found only dirt. There was nothing to grab onto until arms clamped around his waist and pulled in the opposite direction. But it was futile, the force pulling his upper body had more leverage, and the Rangers trying to prevent his kidnapping were ceding ground. Before they were pulled into the forest, they realized who they were attempting to save and let go.
Because I'm replaceable.
Sarn slid between two trees, still blind to what was going on. Thanks a lot, Gregori.
Nolo flinched as a giant tree slithered toward them. Trees were supposed to stay put, even enchanted ones. But a three-hundred-foot-plus monster crawled on its roots, heading straight for Sarn. And the blindfold made it impossible for the Kid to see the danger.
A branch whipped out as Nolo dove. He knocked the boy down. But the lad was closer to seven-feet than six, so a branch seized the brat’s arm. It dragged Sarn, but Nolo held fast. Another tree grabbed hold and yanked even harder. The Kid slid a few feet closer to a host of uprooted trees.
If I could just pull the Kid back across the gravel into the ring of standing stones, he'd be safe. None of the enchanted trees could touch the menhirs or their cordon.
Nolo dug his toes into the earth and struggled to reel Sarn back in. Thank God, youth kept the Kid lanky and lean enough that he could secure his arm around the Kid’s waist and lock it in place. Every muscle strained as the tug of war continued, but I must hold on. Sarn is my charge, my responsibility.
A clout to the head stunned Nolo. Screams battered him while his senses reeled. His grip loosened despite frantic mental shouts at them to hold, hold, hold damn it.
Nolo blinked away pain edged in darkness as the forest swallowed Sarn. I'll find that
boy.
Rolling onto his stomach, he gathered himself to rise. His head rang warning bells, but he ignored them. The world teetered. Everything grayed as Nolo sat. Whatever had hit him had been hard indeed.
“Stay down. That thing might return.”
Nolo gained his knees determined to make it all the way to a stand this time. He glared at Gregori, who crouched nearby wringing his smarting hand.
“You hit me? Why?” Nolo stared.
His long-time friend’s sheepish look confirmed his guilt. How did I remain conscious?
Gregori was a bear of a man who hit harder than a boulder and whose stature was only exceeded by the missing Sarn.
“What? Should I have let it drag you off too? Bad enough it got the Kid. Lord Joranth will be pissed his pet mage was eaten by whatever that thing was.” Gregori shuddered.
“It was a tree—an oak I think.” Nolo probed the sore spot on the back of his head and winced.
“We don’t know if the Kid is a mage,” Jerlo corrected as he appeared between his two officers.
At five-foot-nothing, the force of Jerlo’s personality took up more space than he did. And it pushed his subordinates apart. Right now, his ire focused on a man sixteen inches taller than himself who could bench press one Jerlo in each hand. A dozen Rangers turned up to watch the commander scold Gregori.
Every Ranger had a theory about how Jerlo would best Gregori, but some of the proposed methods stretched the limits of credulity. No doubt the betting would be fiercer than usual tonight.
Gregori rounded on their boss. “Oh yeah, then why do his eyes glow all the damned time? It’s a sign of active magic. Hell, it’s even mentioned in the Litany.”
A mention in the Litany made it God’s truth, and it sent a chill down Nolo’s back every time the subject came up.
“Stow it. We’re not having this argument here and now. Whether the Kid ever does one damned magical thing is not my concern.”
“Why? All we do is babysit him.”
“Exactly, now get over there and take charge of your squad. I want this whole area sealed off until the forest calms down. No one's allowed to pass out of that stone circle.”
“Yes, sir.”
Nolo had pushed to his feet while Gregori argued it out with their commander. His head still rang from Gregori’s fist, but Sarn’s kidnapper had dragged a two-foot-wide trench pointing the way. And Nolo trotted after it, focusing on his goal.
Spotting a Kid with radiant eyes should be easy in the dark.
“Where’re you going?” Gregori called after him.
“Where do you think—to find Sarn.”
“Good hunting,” Jerlo offered. “Though I doubt the Kid is in any real danger. He’ll likely turn up with some wild tale ‘ere morning.”
“Maybe but I’m still going after him.”
“Never doubted it,” Jerlo waved his second off. His gaze landed on the Rangers playing spectator. “You there—yes, you—take five men and secure the west side of the circle. You, and you, go east and you, south. Move it, people. Secure the perimeter, now damn it. Or you’ll be cleaning latrines in the dungeon before the night’s over.” Jerlo clapped and the sound cut across the sudden silence.
Nolo squeezed between two giant trees and shuddered at their sudden stillness. Their attention focused elsewhere, perhaps on the missing Sarn. A pale green nimbus spread out from a bead of lumir on Nolo’s wrist. Mount Eredren’s mines churned out that luminous stone by the megaton because this enchanted wonderland carried an extreme prejudice against fire.
Aside from being affordable, the green stone reminded him of a promise he'd made five years ago. Nolo broke into a trot. I'll find you, Kid, even if it takes the whole bloody night to search.
“Sarn? Call out if you can hear me.”
A branch cracked somewhere ahead, and many large things thumped out a rhythm of movement, maybe even of doom. Nolo followed the sound. Lord, let us both live through this.
Sarn ran his fingers along the grooves of the thing manacling his arm and encountered tree bark. Why would a tree abduct me?
“Let go of me!”
Sarn hammered the heel of his hand against the branch clamped around his middle. Magic hit his veins in a flood of crackling power, scorching a path down his arm to the hand beating against his captor. The tree let go.
Early flowers perfumed the air, but their scent was undercut by something rank as Sarn felt along the blindfold for a weakness to exploit. Screw untying the damned thing.
Sarn tore the blindfold off releasing his sight. Green light bathed the trunks of his captors and the furrows attesting to their recent movement. Picking himself up, he checked he was still in one extra-tall piece. Nothing broken or even bruised—thank Fate for small mercies.
Thousands of branches waved, and one enterprising oak spidered toward Sarn on its roots. Two others lifted themselves up on their root balls and dropped, shaking the ground.
Do individual trees have any sense or is it a kind of hive mind? Now didn't seem like a good time to ask, so Sarn backed away. But he had nowhere to go, he was surrounded.
The spokes—man—tree—halted a few feet away and its eyeless stare bored into Sarn. The forest had never chosen to communicate with any of the folk inhabiting its lands.
Please keep your secrets tonight. I have enough of my own.
The oak disagreed. It seized his wrist and towed Sarn in its wake. Magic lit up his skin and zapped the branch as Sarn pulled his arm free.
“I can make my own way,” he said allowing the chill of his anger to creep into his voice. “I'm not a witless child. Show me where you want me to go, and I’ll follow on my own.”
The forest stilled. Massive trees stood hundreds of feet tall, and their leafy crowns blocked all sight of the sky as they loomed over him. Sarn massaged his wrist. His skin smarted from where the branch had grabbed him.
Did they hear me? More importantly, did I anger them? Will they strike me down?
No, they can't. The forest has three rules, and I've broken none.
The enchanted forest agreed. A moment later, branches waved millions of beckoning leaves. When more and more branches pointed northeast, he set off curious about the why of all this. Though I have a feeling, I already know.
Four miles Sarn trekked with a wall of trees to his right and left.
Are they guarding me? What from? What’s going on?
The temperature dropped, and night deepened as Sarn climbed a slope. His magic retreated, shrinking the green nimbus he depended on to pick his way through the tangled underbrush.
Weird, my magic’s never reacted like this before. Not that he could remember, but his memory was more than a bit holey in places.
Sarn kept climbing, and that green glow kept shrinking until it was just a pinpoint when he reached the top. Between two trees whose boles each had to be over a hundred-feet in diameter, Sarn froze. Winter embraced him, sliding icy lips over the exposed skin of his hands and face. Behind him, the May evening rolled on despite the piece of winter parked in its middle.
Unnatural, whispered his magic, winding tighter about his organs. The glow of his eyes winked out blinding Sarn.
He didn’t bother to reply. Conversations with his magic offered a one-way trip to insanity, not the answers he craved. And I've indulged in that enough today.
His head map unfurled as he blinked. But it had been too long since his eyes had to work without magical augmentation, so he saw nothing but the map filling up with strange icons, not helpful.
Sarn touched a red symbol flashing before his eyes, and an image of a circle and a star exploded, raining thirteen curved lines onto his map and the ground. As the lines squirmed into the earth, he heard that phrase again. It repeated until he finally caught it—eam’meye erator.
What does that mean? Without context or a definition, it meant nothing to Sarn but a headache. And I've had enough of those.
Darkness coalesced into a fist and squeezed Sarn. Blood drippe
d from his nose and ran down his lips. The foul litany continued as that inky malevolence washing over him solidified, imprisoning him like a fly in amber. An inarticulate cry interrupted the chorus of fell whispers right before a branch snagged hold of his boot and yanked.
Sarn rolled clear and rose, facing the thing trying to trap him. This is the wrongness I sensed earlier. But what is it?
“What caused this?” he asked, but the forest maintained its watchful silence.
A pack of children stared at his back. When he turned, there were only miles upon miles of trees behind him, but the eerie feeling remained.
Are they willing me to do something about this? If so, they have the wrong mage. I have no training and no idea what to do about the cold, black blob in front of me other than to run from it if it’s dangerous. Is it dangerous?
Sarn touched the semi-permeable black membrane blocking his way. It froze his skin on contact. Stuffing his numb hand under his arm, he tried to warm it.
“Why did you want me to see this?”
The wind shifted, pelting Sarn with the metallic scent of blood and rotting meat. He doubled over and retched. Sudden, violent death had created the cold, dark spot in front of him. That didn’t explain how this had come to be. Plenty of folks had died in the forest over the years, and none of their deaths had created anything like this.
What made these deaths so different?
Sarn’s stomach heaved, winnowing his world down to throwing up without spattering his already stained clothes. He jerked when a hand landed on his shoulder.
“You okay, Kid?”
“I’m not a kid.” Sarn shot back as he wiped the blood dripping from his nose onto his sleeve. “I’m twenty.”
“I know,” Nolo gave Sarn’s shoulder a squeeze, and let go, “but you’re also almost half my age.”
“You’re not forty.”
“No, but I’m not far from it. What have we here?”
The Black Ranger pushed through the equally black membrane as if it wasn’t there. Maybe it only reacted to magic. Or maybe Nolo’s status as Death’s Marksman protected him.
Curse Breaker: Books 1-4 Page 2
