Curse Breaker_Enchanted [The More Epic Version]

by Melinda Kucsera

  Unlike Jerlo’s office, this one had almost no décor at all, but it made up for the lack with weaponry. Racked against each wall were all kinds of edged playthings. Spears, staves, axes, pikes—they all had a place here. Since plate armor belonged to the Knights, the Guards had to use boiled leather and mail tunics. Piles of both occupied opposite corners of the room ready to square off at a moment’s notice. And a depiction of the Queen of All Trees hung amid all the trappings of war. Gregori shook off her eyeless stare. She was not here.

  “What can I do for you?” asked a Guardsman in his late twenties rising from behind one of the desks. He adjusted his rumpled uniform of dark blue tunic and trousers drawing Gregori’s eyes to the insignia stitched on the fellow’s right pec. Two black spears crossed over a white barbute marking the man as part of the Guards.

  A barbute rested on each of the desks with its Y-shaped slit for vision and breathing facing Gregori. How could anyone wear such a close-fitting metal helmet? One good bop on its metal dome would give the unfortunate wearer a headache.

  Glad the Rangers employed lighter armor, Gregori dismissed the helm. A Ranger wearing yonder steel helmet would incite the metal-hating enchanted forest to murder.

  “Actually, I came to offer you some help.” Jerlo leaned over the other desk and picked up a file. He flashed it to the Guard. “May I?”

  “You came to look at the cold case file?”

  Jerlo nodded as he flipped through the pages. “One, in particular, vexes me.”

  “Only one?” The Guard’s brows rose in surprise. If you stuck him in a crowd, he’d blend right into it. This guard must be a secretary.

  Jerlo shrugged. “If I had a heart, they’d all tug on it, but since rumor claims, I lack that organ, I’m spared such pain.” Jerlo gestured to the file and waved it at the nameless Guardsman perched on the edge of the opposite desk. “Nulthir and I meet weekly to discuss things. We keep each other appraised of developing situations and odd cases.” The commander gave Gregori a hard stare inviting him to make the obvious leap in logic.

  Gregori nodded, catching onto what Jerlo left unsaid. The two men met to talk so the commander could control what the Guards knew about Sarn. Since the Guards policed the Indentured, they likely glimpsed the Kid coming and going. Sarn was a secret all the Rangers kept from the populace at large. Or they tried to when the stupid Kid cooperated.

  Jerlo pulled a quarter-inch stack of pages from the file with a flourish. “Here they are. You recall these?” He passed the pages in question to Nulthir who scanned them then handed them back with a sad nod. Jerlo shoved them at Gregori. “Look at these and tell me what you think.”

  Each of the twenty-seven pages in his hand represented a kid who had vanished in the last five years. All the missing were males between the ages of sixteen and twenty.

  The snatched teens were from the working class, judging by the addresses. The average height of male Shayarins topped out at five foot ten, but all the missing boys were over six feet tall. It was a curious detail.

  Shayari had a long history of immigration before Kaydran Ironwood closed the border and programmed it to keep everyone out. Thanks to immigration, Shayarins came in a variety of skin tones from corpse pale to jet black and every shade in between. The kidnapper had plenty of potential victims to choose from since Mount Eredren had a lot of young people, yet he or she had snatched light skinned boys.

  Flipping back to the beginning, Gregori cursed as a profile built in his head, and it matched Sarn’s vital stats in every way save one. He had radiant green eyes, and no one knew he existed except the Rangers and the noble fool who owned him. Was the Kid in danger?

  Five years ago, Vic Number One went missing three days after Sarn turned sixteen. Then five unlucky boys of the same age and description had vanished in the following eleven months. The pattern repeated each year but the victims’ ages increased. What did the perpetrator do with these boys? And why the eight-week gap between disappearances?

  Gregori shook his head. So far this year, only three boys had gone missing, and they were all twenty. Paging back, he tallied up the months and nodded. If the pattern held true, the fourth boy would disappear sometime in July, the fifth in September and the sixth in November.

  Did the perpetrator know about Sarn? The pattern indicated he did but what about the Guards?

  Gregori met Jerlo’s gaze, but again, it gave nothing away. Perhaps guilt colored his perceptions. Gregori dropped his gaze to the page in front of him and started at a sketch of a boy with a similar facial scar. His gut clenched. Someone was definitely searching for Sarn and leaving missing boys in his wake.

  “It’s a chilling pattern, isn’t it?” Jerlo said, taking the prize for understatement of the century.

  “Hell yeah, I’ve got nephews in this age range—” Thanks to Ranispara’s sisters and their fecundity.

  “I know. For their sake, I brought this to your attention.” Jerlo’s hard stare approved the subterfuge. Perhaps the Guards were not aware of the connection between the missing boys and the Rangers’ indentured servant.

  “Is there more?” Gregori looked to Nulthir who nodded and got up from his perch. Flipping open a chest, he riffled through it and pulled out a thicker file.

  Handing it across to Gregori, he grimaced. “If you know anything about what the hell is going on, I urge you to tell me at once.”

  Gregori nodded. “Twenty-seven is a lot. A couple boys going missing is one thing. But this—” Gregori brandished the file, “—is a definite pattern pointing to something nefarious. You’ve got whatever help I can give.”

  “We Rangers can’t operate inside the mountain,” Jerlo warned. “But a little information gathering never hurt anyone, now did it?” The commander had addressed his closing remarks to Nulthir, who nodded.

  “I don’t see how it could as long as we’re copied on everything. This is our investigation.” Nulthir sighed, “and I have to deal with the grieving relatives.”

  “Done and done, and if you’ve nothing to add, we’ll take our leave.”

  Nulthir said nothing as he collapsed into the padded chair behind his desk. He looked worn around the edges. For a long moment, the captain of the Guards blinked at his interrupted correspondence before pawing around for his quill.

  Jerlo swung the door open and ushered Gregori out before either said what they were thinking. How could this fiend know about Sarn?

  The file in Gregori’s sweating hand was a millstone, crushing him with worry. Five years ago, the Kid had healed up enough to need occupation, so Ranispara had taken him on patrol. Could the kidnapper have seen the Kid then?

  As they entered Jerlo’s office, Reptilian eyes glared at Gregori demanding an answer. He sat surrounded by Jerlo’s newest acquisition—a quartet of man-sized dragons. The commander’s obsession had gone way beyond good taste. But it was his office, and Jerlo could surround himself with depictions of giant, bat-winged serpents if he chose. It would be nice if he left a dragon-free zone for visitors.

  But the answer was yes. Someone could have seen Sarn then. Gregori cursed, and for once, Jerlo let him.

  The commander’s steady gaze confirmed his thoughts ran on a parallel track. “You agree these disappearances are too regular to be a coincidence?”

  Gregori bounced the file on his knee. “No argument here. Boys go missing every January, March, May, July, September and November as regular as Mount Eredren’s bells. Worse still, the six boys who disappear each year are always the same age as Sarn. That’s not a coincidence. It’s a message.”

  “Agreed. Reports of the boys who vanished in November all arrived within three days of the Kid’s birthday. Once is a coincidence, five is a warning.” Jerlo squared a stack of papers, so it lay even with the two piles flanking him.

  “What’s this person or persons doing with them? Is he kidnapping young men for kicks?”

  “We need to find out.”

  “Do you have
a theory?”

  Silence rolled a tense blanket over them. There were only two ways kidnapping could end—death or slavery. Shayari had a profitable skin trade flourishing despite the illegality of it.

  “Will we find a pile of bodies somewhere? I’m not sure I can handle such a gruesome sight.” Gregori shifted the file, but it still weighed him down.

  “I don’t know.”

  “We have to do something. If there is someone out there making these boys disappear, we must stop him. We can’t let him get his hands on Sarn.” Gregori squeezed the file until his knuckles ached.

  They had to prevent the Kid from falling into the hands of another psychopath. Bad enough it had happened once. Gregori rubbed his eyes to wipe away the images, and his fingers came away wet. One glance could have saved everyone a lot of grief. And he’d regret that for the rest of his life.

  “How long have you known about this?”

  Jerlo collapsed into a chair behind his desk. He picked up a dragon-shaped inkwell then set it down. “Not long, Nulthir only took over as captain in late January. And those meetings I mentioned were his idea. Oh, I had meetings with his predecessor, but they were more of a quarterly thing, and we didn't say much at them. He brought this to my attention maybe a month ago when it became apparent there was a pattern. I asked him to do some digging to see if there were others and you’re looking at the results.”

  Gregori drummed his fingers on the file. Another three victims would vanish before year’s end unless someone stopped this. “You want me to find this creep before he finds Sarn.”

  Jerlo wagged a finger. “I want us, the Rangers, to put a stop to this. Whatever this thing is, it has to end.”

  “Can we put the Kid under armed guard day and night in the meantime?”

  Jerlo covered his face with his hands. “We could, but I don’t want the Kid to know about this. He has enough problems.”

  “But how can we keep him safe when we don’t know where he goes by day?”

  Jerlo turned his dragon-shaped inkwell, and its eyes bored into Gregori. “We don’t have to. The Kid’s difficult to find because of where he goes.”

  “And where does he go?”

  “Reread the file, and you’ll understand.”

  Leafing through the case summaries a second time, Gregori looked up startled by a sudden realization. Lord Joranth had indentured Sarn six years ago. His Indentured status restricted the Kid’s movements in and around the mountain stronghold. But none of the twenty-seven missing boys were indentured.

  “The Kid lives with the rest of the Indentured in the ‘Lower Quarters.’ Either the kidnapper doesn’t know or can’t go down there himself.”

  Jerlo nodded. “You hit on my working theory. If he were operating in the Lower Quarters, we might not have found out about the disappearances at all.”

  “How do you know he goes down there?”

  Jerlo showed his teeth in a predator’s imitation of a smile then let the strange expression go. “I’ve had him tailed often enough to be certain. There are reports of him using the most trafficked entrances to the place over the years. And no, I don’t know exactly where in that rat’s nest he lives.”

  Gregori drummed his fingers on the file. Catching this creep would be tough. They had no proof of anything. All they had were a whole lot of suppositions.

  Jerlo looked Gregori square in the eye. “No more tests, do you hear me?

  Gregori looked away and nodded. “I’ll keep both eyes on the Kid as often as I can, and I’ll get on this right now unless you have something else?”

  “There’s one more thing.”

  Silence followed Jerlo’s ominous announcement. Shadows stretched long fingers from the edges of the cluttered office drawing Gregori’s eyes to the floor-to-ceiling dragon statues. He shuddered as their glowing crystal eyes fixed on him.

  Jerlo leaned back in his bureaucratic throne, and his hands caressed its dragon-head arm rests. “Do you know what an ‘irreplaceable asset,’ is?”

  Gregori could have taken a stab at defining the term, but this was Jerlo’s show, and the commander was building up to something big. Better if he let the man get to it in his own time and manner. So he shook his head.

  “The Kid—Sarn—is an irreplaceable asset. You’d better pray he returns in good health. If he doesn’t, you'll inherit his debt, and you can bet your ass Lord Joranth Nalshira will prosecute you.”

  Jerlo’s hooded eyes tracked every twitch of his quarry. “Under title 42, chapter 21, section 1982, you’re facing at least sixty years of hard labor to work off the useful lifespan of the irreplaceable asset you lost.”

  Gregori goggled at his boss—sixty years of hard labor because of one stupid test?

  Jerlo swiveled his chair to the left, lifted a dusty tome off a nearby stack and shoved it at Gregori. Its leather cover strained to hold onto the three-inch stack of papers it housed.

  “You're looking at the entire Shayarin legal code. The loose pages are recent amendments. You’ll find the relevant laws highlighted on pages 1299-1303. Read the marked passages subtitled ‘Indentured’ and ‘Irreplaceable Assets’ if you don't believe me. Or I could quote them to you, your choice.”

  Gregori pawed at the cracking cover with nerveless fingers. No way would they send him to prison.

  “This is a grave matter. One you obviously aren’t taking seriously enough. I thought our chat three years ago had put an end to this issue, but I was wrong.”

  “The Kid’s not irreplaceable. They must have a dozen boys like him at the Flesh Market.” As soon as the words left Gregori’s mouth, he wanted to retract them. They were the exact wrong thing to say. And the Flesh Market itself was a horrible thing.

  “No, there’s no one else like the Kid, not at the Flesh Market, maybe not even in this country. If you don’t believe me, swing by their stalls. All you’ll find are pale imitations.”

  “How do you know?” Gregori shoved the legal code away from him.

  Jerlo raised a mocking brow. “How do you think?”

  No, it was too horrible to contemplate. How could Jerlo visit those slave pens?

  “When did you go there?”

  “After what I thought was the last test. Three years ago, the Kid crawled back, so dizzy from a concussion he couldn’t stand up. I needed to know how much trouble you were in if he didn’t recover.”

  “But he did recover. There’s not a mark on him from the previous test.”

  “Yes, and I thought I’d put the fear of God in you then. But you spirited him off again, and this time, the stakes are higher.” Jerlo stabbed the title stamped on the book’s cover with his index finger. “Mark my words, the Kid is irreplaceable for more reasons than you realize. I can’t protect you from Lord Joranth’s wrath. I warned you three years ago. You should have heeded my warning.”

  Well, Gregori was heeding it now. The stupid Kid had better return in one piece. Gregori picked up the file and rose from his chair feeling flayed by their conversation.

  “Is there anything else?” he asked, managing to keep his voice firm even though inside he was quaking.

  Jerlo waved at his office door, in a clear dismissal. “Keep this all quiet for now but see what you can find out. I want to break the disappearances to the others in stages. I don’t want anyone jumping to any conclusions until we know more about what’s going on.”

  Gregori nodded, he could picture Ranispara and Nolo’s reactions to the kidnappings. They’d both stroke over it. But there was no need to worry them yet.

  “What about the Kid? He should know to watch his back.”

  Jerlo shook his head. “Don't tell Sarn about any of this.”

  “Why? The Kid has a right to know.”

  “The Kid has enough problems. I’m ordering you to say nothing to him about any of what we discussed.”

  Gregori met his boss’ steely stare but dropped his gaze when the commander’s eyes bored too deep for
comfort. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good.”

  Gregori left, closing the inner door to Jerlo’s office with more force than necessary. A sick feeling erupted in the pit of his stomach pushing him into a lumbering run. What if the kidnapper had been on the boat? It was more than possible given the two-month span between reported disappearances.

  Gregori poured on more speed, taking the twists and turns shouting for folks to make a hole. What if instead of a test, he’d handed the Kid a one-way ticket to death or slavery?

  Chapter 11

  “What the hell does he want?” Ranispara pointed eastwards.

  Nolo looked where she’d indicated but stopped when he caught sight of Gregori heading their way.

  “What are you doing here?” Nolo asked the man who’d just walked within earshot.

  “What do you think? I came to see if my little experiment worked. By the looks of things, it did.” Gregori turned smug eyes eastwards and crossed his arms over his chest.

  The man looked unrepentant and unpunished. What penalty had the commander imposed?

  “What experiment? What did you do to him?” Nolo grasped his friend by his tunic and shook him. Tired from all his scheming, Gregori swayed.

  “You look awful.” Nolo steadied his friend and let go of him. Later he could square things between them. Right now, nothing else mattered except getting Sarn back safe and sound.

  “Good, he deserves it,” Ranispara muttered.

  “It’s been a busy day.” Gregori shrugged and put some distance between himself and everyone else.

  Maybe he thought his fellow Rangers intended to engage in more fisticuffs. The thought had crossed Nolo’s mind, but he put it away. Another fracas would do no one any good, least of all Sarn.

  They all turned their attention back to the line of trees beyond the twin stone circles. A tense silence enfolded them as the forest divided. Trees stood like two armies facing each other across a narrow battlefield.