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. He’d heard that phrase thrice now, and each time it had danced on the edge of understanding. What the hell was it saying?
“What is 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. He had a mind, and it worked just fine. Or did it? Sarn went cold, his hands uncurling. The phrase ceased its looping litany, leaving behind an afterimage of a circle enclosing a thirteen-pointed star. Cold dread knifed through Sarn, speeding his longer strides. Why thirteen? What did 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. Were 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 and had he heard a whip crack? What the hell was 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 the enchanted forest. Malevolence slammed into Sarn, driving him back a step. Somewhere in that trackless wilderness, something had gone terribly wrong. And they wanted him to do something about it? Were they insane?
We fix, said the magic.
Fix what? What happened?
But his magic remained silent. Did it know what mess he was walking into? 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 could not cross. Since Litherian hands hadn’t raised those giant stones, his magic had no interest in them until tonight. Something was different about those menhirs. 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. He bet they glowed the same hue and intensity as his eyes. Likely, the same magic comprised them both.
Nolo shook Sarn. “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 was tonight different? What the hell was 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—”
His 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 southwards.
“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 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.
Arms closed around Sarn’s middle and pulled him 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. After all, he was replaceable.
Sarn slid into the enchanted forest, still blind to what was going on. Thanks a lot, Gregori.
Nolo flinched as a giant tree ripped free from the ground and 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 the forest and a host of uprooted trees. If Nolo could pull the Kid back across the gravel into the ring of standing stones, the Kid would be safe. None of the enchanted trees dared to 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, 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 he had to hold on. Sarn was his charge, his 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. He would 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 damn it. 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 had he remained 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.
No doubt the betting would be fiercer than usual tonight. Every Ranger had a theory about how Jerlo would best Gregori, some of the proposed methods stretched the limits of credulity.
“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 the 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 would 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. Everyone get moving. 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 forest’s 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 the luminous stone by the megaton by necessity. 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. He would find Sarn even if it took 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 him?
“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. Did individual trees have any sense or was it a kind of hive mind? Sarn backed away though 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 let them keep their secrets tonight. He had enough of his 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 wrist free.
“I can make my own way,” he said allowing the chill of his anger to creep into his voice. Damn it; he was a man of twenty. “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. The skin smarted from where the branch had grabbed him. Had they heard him? More importantly, had he angered them? Would they strike him down?
No, they wouldn’t. The forest had three rules, and he’d 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 he had a feeling, he already knew part of the answer.
Four miles he trekked with a wall of trees to his right and left. Were they guarding him? What from? What was going on? The temperature dropped and night deepened as Sarn climbed a slope. Darkness webbed the path, and his magic retreated. The green nimbus he depended on to pick his way through the tangled underbrush shrank down to a pinpoint when he reached the top.
Sarn froze between two trees whose boles each had to be over a hundred feet in diameter. His breath misted in the air. 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 midst. The glow of his eyes winked out blinding Sarn.
Unnatural, whispered his magic, winding tighter about his organs.
Sarn didn’t bother to reply. Conversations with his magic offered a one-way trip to insanity, not the answers he craved. 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.
Sarn touched a red symbol flashing before his eyes. An image of a circle and a star exploded raining thirteen curved lines. As the lines squirmed into the ground, he heard that phrase again. It repeated until he finally caught it—eam’meye erator.
Without context or a definition, it meant nothing to him but a headache. Darkness coalesced into a fist and squeezed Sarn. Blood dripped from his nose and ran down his lips. The foul litany continued as inky malevolence washed over him and 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 was the wrongness he’d sensed earlier.
“What is this? What caused it?” he asked, but the forest maintained its watchful silence. He felt like a pack of children stared at his back. Were the trees willing him to do something about this? If so, they had the wrong mage. He had no training and not a single idea what to do about the cold, black blob in front of him. Was it dangerous?
Sarn touched the semi-permeable black membrane. 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 people’s deaths 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 on h
is 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 the Death’s Marksman protected him.
Nolo never talked about what it meant to be the mythic Black Ranger, or how he’d acquired that title. Nolo wasn’t a mage, yet he carried Death’s arrows. They were part of him and so was the burden of choosing how people died.
"Aren't you freezing?"
"Not any more than usual for a May night. Winter's gone, and I'm glad of it." Nolo turned, and his concern slammed into Sarn. "Are you sure you’re all right?"
Sarn nodded and cringed as Hadrovel spoke from the depths of memory.
“No one cares for you,” said the Orphan Master, then he’d punched Sarn. “You’re nothing and no one. That’s why he turns away. He can’t bear to look at you.”
Sarn’s head still rang from that blow in years past. Maybe he was still that boy waiting for someone to see the bruises, the pain. But Nolo had strode away leaving him with a monster.
“Well, are you okay? Answer me.”
Sarn blinked at the question, but the memory refused to recede. Where was that care when he’d needed it?
“Sarn?”
“I’m not hurt.” Not this time, but one day they would hand him over to another monster. It was inevitable.
Feeling pinned and needled his numb hand as Sarn circled the barrier. But he couldn’t escape the question—why did you hand me over to a monster? It gnawed at him as he rubbed his arms to warm them. Every circuit around the barrier stole a little more of his heat.
“Don’t you feel it?”
Curse Breaker_Enchanted [The More Epic Version] Page 2
