The Iron Cursed

by J. M. Briggs

  “Hey,” Alex called. The man was about her age and swaying dangerously now towards the road. “You okay?”

  Catching his arm, Alex sniffed, but there wasn’t any smell of alcohol. His eyes kept sliding shut and he looked ready to fall over. Alex grunted as more of his weight fell onto her, but maneuvered him over to the nearby wall. He slid down it to the ground and yawned.

  “Hey, wake up,” Alex ordered. Kneeling down, she looked at him carefully. There was a dopey expression on his face. He didn’t even seem to realize where he was. “You’re on the sidewalk!” Alex shouted. “Come on, this isn’t the place to sleep!”

  A snore was her only answer. Alex stood up and rushed back to the windows of the small campus coffee shop. More of the people were sleeping now, pillowing their heads on their arms with contented smiles. A few others were stumbling toward chairs and promptly falling into them. Shaking her head, Alex looked around the main quad as a bubble of worry expanded in her chest. There was another brush of magic across her skin.

  Spinning around, Alex scanned the nearby area. People were still moving around, but there was a faint haze spreading through the campus like a mist. Closing her eyes, Alex pulled on her magic roughly and pushed it outward. It clashed. The mist pushed back, sending shivers through Alex’s limbs. It was sharp and bitter, alien, and very familiar. Brekszta.

  It was spreading. Things were going quiet, though Alex could just make out the low noise of the city beyond the edge of the campus. Spotting a couple of students who were in a daze, Alex watched as they stumbled around and giggled. Any other day she would have dismissed them as drunk, but sparks of magic were circling around them. The young woman laughed and began to fall over, dragging her partner to the ground. Alex ran over to the young woman who had slumped against a wall and searched for her pulse.

  Sleeping; she was just sleeping. Alex checked the next person, but it was the same. Matt and Ed’s faces pushed forward to the front of her brain. Her eyes darted around the area. There was no sign them. Of course there wasn’t. They’d be back at their hotel by now. Safe in their room, where if they felt groggy they could just lay down. If the spell even went beyond campus. They had no reason to be on campus. Her soft reassurances didn’t help and the knot somersaulted.

  Alex ordered herself to calm down and focus on the magic. The fine mist was spreading, but there were threads of magic between each person who was asleep. Reaching for the nearest thread of magic, Alex tugged on it. The cold magic fought back for a moment, but twisted around her fingers and began to turn dark gray. She looked down at the woman she’d pulled it from, but there was a shimmering cloud of blue around her chest and head.

  Extending her hand, Alex hesitated and watched the magic flutter around the woman. Alex closed her eyes and focused on how the magic reacted. It was twisting around the woman’s heart and brain, sinking beneath the skin, and fear gripped Alex tightly. She pulled her hand back sharply and just watched the dark blue magic dance in the air. Almost like it was mocking her. Could she risk pulling it out and changing it? This was a human that Brekszta had connected to. It wasn’t like the Fae; well it was a bit, but not emotionally.

  Taking her eyes off the woman, Alex blinked several times until the view of the lines of magic eased. The colors of the normal world seeped back into her vision only for her to freeze in place. There were ghostly figures appearing out of the thinning mist. They shimmered with magic, but it stung against Alex’s senses. None of them moved towards the sleeping people, they just lingered. No move to attack or capture her. Alex didn’t understand.

  She took a step forward, her sneakers thudding against the pavement. The ghostly figures just kept walking. They passed through objects like they weren’t there. Yet they didn’t radiate magic. Alex could only see flickers of it around their forms. The reality of what was happening settled across her shoulders. Brekszta was attacking Ravenslake, and while it didn’t seem hostile, Brekszta was definitely affecting the nonmages with magic. Pulling out her phone, Alex quickly called Merlin and looked around nervously. The ghosts seemed to have noticed her or sensed her, because they were all now moving in her direction. Odd sounds began to fill the air, echoing through the street and coming from the ghosts.

  “Hello, Alex? What is it? Is everything alright with your brothers?” Merlin still sounded a bit tired from helping with the Gate earlier, but they didn’t have time for that.

  “Merlin, there’s trouble on campus. I need you to bring me the Hammer,” Alex said in a rush. “I can stop the flow of magic one at a time, but it leaves something behind and I’m not sure it’s safe to pull out.”

  Around her, the strange sounds were clearer now. Words, human words, but many she didn’t understand. Yet some of the voices did. They began talking and shouting all at once. A groan escaped Alex; her vision threatened to go blurry and her magic flickered wildly in her chest.

  “Alex? What is happening? Are you alright?!”

  The voices around her were louder, calling familiar and unfamiliar names. They were coming closer. Figures were reaching for her, their images flickering in and out in the low lamplights. More and more of the campus lights were turning on and illuminating the sidewalks, but the figures were still there. Alex tried to back away, but they were all around. Merlin was saying something, but the noise was too much.

  “The Hammer!” Alex shouted into the phone. “Merlin, bring me the Hammer! And be ready to erase a lot of memories!” She noted a nearby collapsed person. “And bring the Chalice too.”

  Looking around, Alex blinked as one of the faces of the figures almost came into focus. They were blurry, like looking through an old-fashioned window in the rain. She could sort of see eyes, the mouth and a vague skin tone, but no details. Some were pale and others were dark. There were indistinct flashes of color in the eyes and around their forms, but nothing stayed long enough. More magic was gathering around them and nervous energy built in Alex’s chest. She sent a quick text to the others and then tried to call Jenny.

  There was no answer from Jenny. Alex told the phone to call Lance, but again after a few rings, there was no answer. Slipping the phone back into her pocket, Alex struggled to catch her breath and looked behind her. The figures were walking towards her, arms outstretched and faces becoming clearer with every passing moment. Backing away, Alex almost tripped over one of the prone humans.

  “Arto,” one of them called. A stone dropped into her gut.

  ‘Mother,’ Arto’s voice whispered in return.

  “Leugio,” another said. This face had a bright smile, freckles, and soft eyes.

  ‘Keelia,’ another voice answered.

  “Gofiben.”

  “Cuthbert.”

  “Lokpal.”

  “Gottfried.”

  “Dobiemir.”

  There were more names, but they blended together. The voices all tried to answer, some happy and some sad or disgusted. Hands reached out for her. Magic pulsed in her veins, but Alex was frozen. The eyes looking at her were sad, imploring, and called her. They gathered around her tightly, some shorter than her and other looming over her. There was a soft giggle here and a warm chuckle there. She heard grumbling, more names, and pleas that all called to her.

  Then she couldn’t hear anything. The voices were too loud. Alex couldn’t move. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Everything hurt. Her heart was sluggish and her limbs too heavy. The ghosts or illusions or echoes or whatever they were closed in. Alex didn’t move. Cold brushed over the exposed skin of her arms and the world blurred. She could see the shimmer of magic but didn’t care. Too many faces. Too many memories pushing forward, but they weren’t hers.

  A sob escaped her. The voices in her head blended, blurred and everything else became background noise. They couldn’t think. Another ghost was reaching for their face. There were too many tears now to see it clearly. Their chest tightened. The magic around the knot shuddered and began to unravel. More grief. Pain and a truck crashing down.

&nbs
p; Shuddering, they took a step back. There was a looming wall behind her and their fingers brushed against rough brick. Something was flaring in the corner of their eye. It was yellow and warm and familiar. Turning to look, they saw a figure running down the street towards them. Magic filled their vision and bolts of yellow blasted through the nearest figures.

  Their chest tightened. Protests sprang to their lips, but thoughts cleared and voices eased. Alex blinked and gasped for air. Another round of yellow bolts hit the ghostly figures like arrows raining down. They drew back, moaning and shouting more names. The voices in her head answered, calling to them by name.

  Alex moved back, all but curling into a corner where the wall and a decorative pillar met. The air was sharp with energy. Magic danced across her tongue, but it was bitter and foul. Wrong; too wrong and not hers. Shuddering, Alex twisted away from the magic. Her own flickered, but she couldn’t- it wouldn’t form properly. She couldn’t focus. It just slipped through her, past her and wouldn’t settle in her hands.

  “Alex!” Bran was running towards her, his glowing hands up and ready. “Are you okay?”

  She didn’t answer. All of her focus was on making her lungs expand and take in oxygen. Even her heart didn’t seem to want to work without her urging it forward. Bran caught her arm to hold her steady. The magic still wouldn’t come. The voices were arguing. Ghostly figures called to them-her from down the street. Alex struggled while the others fought.

  “Easy, just breathe,” Bran said gently. Bran started to guide her away, but Alex couldn’t move. He struggled for a moment before giving up and gripping her other arm. “That’s it, inhale and then exhale. Inhale…. Exhale.” His voice was gentle, and despite the undercurrent of worry and fear, it soothed her. She focused on that voice.

  Following Bran’s instructions, Alex held her breath for a moment and sensation began to return to her body. Magic flowed through her limbs and she could move again. Closing her eyes, Alex grimaced as the bright lines of magic cut into the darkness. She didn’t want to see it right now, but it was too bright and vivid to be ignored. There was no escape. A groan escaped her and Bran made a sound of worry.

  “Alex, are you injured?”

  “No.”

  “Then what-” Bran cut himself off and Alex opened her eyes to see him shake his head. “Did you alert Merlin and Morgana?”

  “Merlin,” Alex forced out. Words were hard. “Told him to bring Hammer and Chalice.”

  “The Hammer?” Bran frowned and looked away from her. His eyes jumped between the sleeping humans and he made a move to let her go but changed his mind. “There’s just one spell,” he said with growing horror. “And the Hammer… yeah, good call.”

  Groaning echoed through the air, and Alex looked up once more. The figures were back, coming towards them with extended hands. Bran shifted, keeping one hand holding her up and keeping the other up. Yellow magic flared around his fingertips. He snapped and a wall of fire sprang up in front of them in a semi-circle, sheltering them against the wall.

  “Are you with me, Alex?” Bran asked quickly.

  Her mouth was too dry to answer. The faces on the ghosts were becoming clearer again. Arto’s mother was there, with her long brown braids and features so like Morgana’s. Taking a step towards her, Alex barely noticed Bran’s grip tightening. He said something, but the words were lost to her. Another figure came forward. This one was tall and male with graying brown hair hanging to his shoulders. Gofiben became louder.

  A fireball crashed through the air and exploded across the pavement. Gasping, Alex tried to shout as the ghostly figures flickered and vanished. The knot twisted and the voices screamed in protest. Sad brown eyes locked with hers before vanishing and Gofiben roared in agony. Arto made a whimper of protest and the other voices shouted as the figures dispersed.

  “Are you guys okay?” Nicki’s voice asked.

  Bran’s hands kept her from turning on her friend. The knot tightened. Her magic flared, but Bran’s voice kept telling her to breathe. Somehow it cut through the haze. She could hear Gofiben speaking in time with him in an accented voice. His anger was somehow suddenly gone at the sound of Bran. Alex knew that meant something, but couldn’t remember. Nicki was next to them. Her face was pale, making her faint freckles stand out sharply. Bran squeezed her arm again and shifted between her and Nicki.

  “We’re okay, considering,” Bran replied. “What about you?”

  “I’m fine,” Nicki replied. She was dressed in what Alex recognized as her sleeping pants and a t-shirt. “You could have gotten me, Alex,” Nicki said.

  “Sorry,” Alex apologized. “I didn’t think… I just came outside.”

  “Hey!” Aiden’s voice called from behind them. “Everyone okay?” Alex looked over her shoulder to find Aiden running up.

  “We’re fine,” Nicki said. There was still irritation in her voice, but her relief at seeing Aiden was clear. “What about you?”

  “I’m fine, but I was in the campus late store for a sugar run when the cashier fell asleep.”

  “So what is happening?” Nicki asked. She nodded towards the ghostly figures that were beginning to reappear. “Is this an invasion from some sort of ghost world?”

  “No,” Alex answered. Her voice was soft to her own ears. It sounded strange and too high pitched. “It’s Brekszta: I think they’re some sort of manifestations due to her magic. I can see her power around them.” Indeed, as the figures moved closer there was a faint blue aura around them.

  “Manifestations of what?” Nicki asked. “They barely look human to me.”

  Frowning, Alex looked sharply at Bran and Nicki, but they faces were both neutral. “You don’t see them?” Alex whispered. “Oh… I guess not.”

  “Who are they, Alex?” Bran asked, stressing her name.

  “People that… I’ve known,” Alex answered. “In my various lives.” She tried to smile, but it wasn’t worth the effort.

  “Oh.” Nicki looked embarrassed.

  “I see,” Bran said carefully. He was barely hiding his horror at the idea. “So it’s Brekszta. Any idea of where she is?”

  The question was answered by a flash of light above the lawn behind them. Alex turned first and found Brekszta standing on the retaining wall of the landscaping. She looked the same as before and raised a hand to wave in greeting.

  33

  The Iron Brooch

  463 B.C.E. Cashel, Ireland

  There was too much going on. Warriors were hacking at Sídhe frantically as they swarmed forward. Red and silver blood was spurting across the snow, though the silver vanished in a few moments. The white snow was becoming a mess of mud and blood with each charge. Around Leugio people were shouting, but he focused only on the beat of his own heart and the pulse of magic. He gathered it in his hand and released another flash of light. It gave the humans the chance to knock over and kill three more Sídhe.

  Gritting his teeth, Leugio released another wave of magic. It jolted and zinged amongst the Sídhe, killing those it hit in the chest or head and knocking others to the ground. He paused in his efforts to form two more light orbs that he threw into the sky. They glowed brilliantly and cheers erupted behind him. A Síd climbed to its feet and charged him. An arrow struck it in the eye and it began to dissolve. Another blast of magic left his hand as the humans rushed forward.

  Blurs of bodies and iron surrounded him. Sídhe were knocked over again, but their ranks were reforming as they gathered together once more. There was a shout for him to do something. He pulled on more magic. A sharp pain exploded beneath his heart. That didn’t stop him. He tried to focus on the magic only harming the Sídhe and released another series of bolts. They were weaker this time. His stomach muscles tightened reflectively at the throb the action sent through his body. His magic was slipping away. He could still feel it, but it was sluggish. Still, it was enough to break the Sídhe ranks for a few moments.

  No time to celebrate. Leugio’s chest throbbed. It was too hot;
even the winter chill did nothing against the burning in his body. The paths that the magic followed through his flesh were raw. He didn’t understand what it meant, but every tug on the magic around him only made it worse. Yet, he couldn’t stop. There were more Sídhe. As many questions as he had, this was one thing about being a mage that he was sure about. He had to fight them. He couldn’t let them just take over; couldn’t let them have the surface.