Above, the shell fragment landed close enough for what the Ægeldar had planned. A small creature half-dead from magic-loss stirred when it felt the vibrations of its landing. It hadn’t pried open the head’s jaws yet, and it likely wouldn't, but that was all right. Someone else would because curiosity kills.
Best not to think of that plan while the Adversary’s mind combed the thought-streams for prey. After all, I'm just a monster trapped in a deep hole feeling about for the shining mortals whose hearts still pump the life fire of the universe, my hated enemy, magic.
More of the Ægeldar’s tentacles shoved through the cracks in its prison. Thanks to its distributed brain, each one acted autonomously and sent back sensory information about the mortals it skewered. They kept getting in the way of its search for the shining one it had sensed earlier, and their deaths reinforced its ruse. So it toppled another column onto the fleeing humans and crushed some of them. Before tentacle number fifty could search for more lives to take, a sword lopped off its tip.
The Ægeldar roared, acting every bit the maddened beast as tentacles seventy-nine and ninety darted after the swordswoman. It wouldn't do for anyone to guess what it was really doing. Not until it was too late to stop it.
One of the seven remaining eggs rocked under it, forcing the Ægeldar to shift its bulk. Cracks distorted the egg’s perfect ovoid.
“Not yet, not yet,” it crooned as one of its many sucker-covered arms stroked the egg and tried to still its wild rocking. Now would be a bad time for one of its young to hatch.
Meanwhile, in another cavern, a flying blur raked tentacle seventy-nine with is claws. It swooped down for another pass, but tentacle number twenty-two punched through a wall, and the critter banked to avoid the falling debris.
Down in the pit, that egg kept rocking, demanding the Ægeldar’s full attention. It pushed all the sensory input from its tentacles out of its mind. They were designed to fend for themselves anyway. So they didn't need any oversight, and those cracks were proliferating at a worrying pace.
“No, my young one, you must wait. I’m still readying things for you.”
But there was no way to stop the hatching now. It had gone too far already. Where the hell are you, Dirk? Your un-life will feed a new breed of monsters.
Demonic Pursuit
“Descend, descend, descend into the pit,” the growing mob said.
It had doubled while Sarn had stood there like a fool staring at the fiend controlling them.
“Come to me,” said the Adversary as he threw something at Sarn.
As the object hurtled toward him, it unfurled into a set of shadowy chains. They struck Sarn before he could dodge and sank into the devil’s mark, which now covered the left side of his body. Pain racked him, and his sight dimmed as the Question came roaring back. Sarn staggered into a statue.
No, no, no, not here. I can't do this now. I'm not ready.
It was too late to run or fight. He was sliding down the hard planes of a ridiculously muscular chest toward the sharp shadows flowing out of the Adversary’s hands. They described a rising prison, and it was closing in on him, rendering everything strangely incorporeal even the statue whose eyes had latched onto his. A flame flickered in those crystal eyes—one he recognized. A tiny green man shaped himself out of that light, and it beckoned to him.
Why does everyone want me to come to them? Sarn slipped as the ground shifted and flowed as if it too were liquefying. Maybe everything was. Or maybe this was a mad delusion spawned by the Adversary. He had yet to see that faceless, smiling menace do anything physical.
“Take me back. I can free you. I can save your son,” said the magic in the high piping voice of a child. But the little green man-flame was fading into the shadows swallowing everything.
“Papa?”
“Ran? Where are you?”
“I’m right here.” Ran tugged on his hand and kept tugging because the tyke did nothing by halves. “Why do they want us to go down? That’s where the monsters are.”
Ran trod on his foot as he shrank from a mob Sarn could no longer see. The people who comprised it had melted into the shadows and become part of the cell enclosing them. Their bodies were the bars.
“They’re working for the monsters, aren’t they, Papa?
“I’ll bet they’re working for one particular monster,” Sarn replied.
“You mean the Adversary. I'm glad he's not here.”
“He’s not?”
Sarn stared at the spot where Ran’s voice had come from—down and to the right.
“No, Papa. There’s just a lot of shadows, and people who have shadowy wormy-things crawling on their faces. I don’t like them. Can we go, now?”
“He’s not here?” Sarn asked again. He was stuck on that stunner and couldn't think past its implications.
“No, Papa. It’s just his shadow playing with us. I don’t like the game.”
“How do you know he's not here?”
“I just see his shadow. I don't see him.”
“Did you see him earlier during the Question?”
Ran shrugged. “There was a lot going on then, but I think I did.”
Well, that was troubling. Was his son correct, though? Was the Adversary really here in this corridor, or was it just his shadow holding them hostage? How can I escape without magic? Sarn struggled against the chains pulling him toward the stairwell.
The Adversary might not be here, but the people those shadows were herding were real and pushing forward intent on sending them down the fastest way possible—a fall to their deaths.
“I'll send them away.”
No, Sarn tried to say but his voice had dried up, or the Adversary’s spell had stolen it. Where was the Adversary? He couldn't see that fiend anymore just the darkness closing in around him. Oh, no, not my son, please, don't touch him.
“I got this Papa. You just hold on, okay?”
Ran’s voice came from much closer now. In fact, his little hand pawed at Sarn's chest seeking his pendant no doubt. Ran must have scaled one of the statues even though he’d been told countless times not to. Ran patted his hand then light drowned out everything else.
When it backed off, Sarn leaned into the statue holding him up. Its arm was wrapped around his waist. Ran sat on its broad shoulders holding his pendant up. The Adversary was gone if he’d ever really been there at all. Did I imagine he’d come to collect me? Surely, the Adversary has better things to do than go after me personally.
That had been the sense Sarn had gotten during their last run-in. Then too, the Adversary had seemed distracted by something or someone. Those ‘other things’ were what J.C had come to stop, and somehow this was all bound up with the black lumir crystals and the Ægeldar. I must find out what.
“Go, go, go to your master,” the promise said as it shoved Sarn hard in the back.
Maybe it was right. If there was more going on, then Nolo would know about it. As second in command of the Rangers, it was his job to know things.
Sarn stumbled into the half-transformed arms of another wolf-man statue and wrenched his crystal pendant out of his startled son's hands. It landed back in its accustomed place over Sarn’s heart as his son followed it down.
Ran landed in his arms as the promise gave another push, but he didn't fall nor, did he let go. He squeezed his son tight and Ran’s stuffed Bear too because his son held it close to his chest.
“Why didn't the light free them like it did earlier when it sent the bad things away.”
“I'm not sure. The Adversary’s magic isn't like mine.”
Or was it? Sovvan said everything had an opposite. Could some of the Adversary’s power be an inversion of mine? What a scary thought that was. But it would explain how the Adversary can get to me so easily. There’s still so much I don’t know about magic.
Of course, it could also be the mark the Adversary had put on him. That inky design was still spreading across his body. Who knew what it would do when it covered him fully
. That was one more thing he needed to deal with when the promise finally relented. I've got to find Nolo before that list gets any longer.
“What is it, Papa? You just had an idea.”
“I did, but it’s a crazy one and not something I can do anything about.”
“Until you have magic again.” Ran nodded. “You should get that back.”
Maybe I should. But Sarn kept that to himself as the promise propelled him into the growing crowd. It was ten-ranks' deep now and intent on forcing him into the stairwell.
“Descend, descend, descend into the pit.”
“No,” Ran shoved several hands away from him and used Bear to bat another one aside.
His stuffed toy remained curiously inanimate as Ran wielded it like a crude weapon. Maybe its former tenant was gone for good. I hope not. But that was one more thing added to the pile that Sarn could do nothing about right now.
Sarn turned his body, so his son was shielded from those grasping hands and shouldered through the wall of people blocking the hallway.
“Descend, descend, descend—”
The crowd broke off its chant suddenly as one voice cut through the noise.
“What the hell is she doing?”
Silence fell as the echoes of their chant died away. The crowd stood there, mute and staring like puppets with their strings cut.
“Why’re they just standing there? Who’s this 'she,' and what's she doing?” Ran whispered in his good ear while Sarn threaded through the densely packed crowd.
“I’m not sure. ‘She’ could be anyone. But to answer your first question—I think the Adversary looked away. At least, I hope he did.”
“Could 'she’ be the Queen of All Trees? Do you think she’s in trouble?”
“Anything’s possible. If it is her, she'll be all right. She’s pretty tough.”
“Can we check on her later just to make sure? I like her a lot, and she likes me.”
“All right.”
If there was a later. Right now, that was still in doubt.
The Adversary might not be driving his thralls, but his shadow-creatures were still corralling people and packing them together. It had enthralled at least forty people and more kept coming. The crowd seemed endless as Sarn pushed through rank upon rank of them.
“I hope he keeps looking away.”
“Me too.”
Ran rested his head on Sarn’s shoulder and tapped the crystal with his index finger. “Why didn’t this free them? It worked earlier.”
“I think it needs an action or word or spell. But that's just a guess.”
“Or a circle? You do great things with circles and magic.”
There was that damned M-word again. Maybe there was no escape from magic, not for him. Was that really so bad a thing? Sarn almost tripped over the extra-large boots of a slim man, jolting him out of his reverie. The beardless teen wind-milled his arms and started up that damned chant. The crowd pivoted to face Sarn. Great, the Adversary was paying attention again.
Sarn ducked under those flailing appendages and broke into a run. Behind him, that chant grew louder as more and more thralls picked it up. It was punctuated by the staccato beat of about fifty people jogging in sync.
“Faster, Papa! They’re coming, and they look angry. I think we made the Adversary mad.”
“Or one of his minions. We don't know if this is his doing. It could be someone working for him.”
“Right, bad people stick together. Good people should do that too.”
Ran shot him a look, and Sarn nodded, conceding the point. His son was right. Ran hugged Bear and yawned. It'd been a long day for him, and it wasn’t anywhere near over yet. Sarn gritted his teeth and increased his pace, wishing there was something he could do about that. Maybe there was. An idea floated around the recesses of his mind.
As he veered around three more shamblers, the promise locked up his muscles, and he slammed to a halt at an intersection. Behind them, more people were arriving, all chanting the same thing. How long before the Adversary’s dark presence pushed them to violence? I won't harm the innocent. If I did, I’d be letting the Adversary win, and I can’t do that. He's already got his claws into me. If he sinks them any deeper, I might never get free.
Let go of me; Sarn thought hard at the promise, but it ignored him and pivoted his body 90 degrees counter-clockwise then shoved him hard in the back. Sarn stumbled onto a new course. The promise urged him into an all-out run. As he passed, doors flew open, and people rushed out to join the chase.
“Descend, descend, descend into the pit!”
The growing mob’s chant was deafening. Its echoes chased them around another bend, and that tunnel dumped him into a square where a door stood open.
Before the promise could exert any more pressure on Sarn, he bolted for that door and shut it behind him on an eerily empty scene. Sarn leaned against the door then slid down it. Ran regarded him with worried eyes.
“I just need to catch my breath for a minute. Don’t worry. They didn’t see us,” Sarn whispered between pants. He needed a rest and a plan, but the promise wouldn’t allow either. Not unless I pass out, and I can’t because it would scare Ran and leave him undefended.
“Why are we here?” Ran asked as he pivoted and scanned the shelves. Either the boy hadn’t been listening, or he sensed there was more to this stop.
“Because I don’t want a repeat of earlier. Those innocent people are caught in the Adversary’s game, and I’m tired of playing by his rules.”
“You don’t want to hurt them.”
“No.”
“I don't either. They don't deserve that.”
“No, they don't.”
But that left Sarn with a conundrum. He couldn't stay here for more than another breath, maybe two before the promise reacted to this unscheduled stop.
Ran started to ask another question, but Sarn held up a hand to forestall him.
“If we’re quiet, they’ll pass by,” he said in the softest voice he could muster.
Ran nodded and hugged Bear while Sarn listened hard for pursuit, but he couldn't hear anything through the thick door.
I just need to elude the Adversary long enough for me to hide my son, find Nolo, keep my promise and get the night off. Then I can find J.C. and get some answers.
That was the only workable solution to his dilemma with a prayer of satisfying everyone. And it had occurred to him while he was running from those possessed people. But the more Sarn considered it, the better his plan sounded. It all depended on Nolo, though. If Death’s Marksman was amenable, and he could find a hiding spot for Ran close to wherever Nolo was, this could work.
It could, but his plan hinged on too many ‘ifs.’ Just take it one step at a time and keep an eye out for a safe place to park Ran.
In fact, this storeroom would do. It held mostly linens and other soft items that if toppled, wouldn’t hurt his curious son who was poking around the closet-turned-storeroom. Ran was determined to check every corner, with Bear in tow of course, but the lumir crystals overhead, and in the walls, allowed only weak shadows to form.
Sarn stared at one of them. Is the Adversary watching me right now through that shadow's eyes?
As he stared into that shadow, it spun into a gray vortex, and he fell into it.
Faraway, footsteps resounded, but he was spiraling down into unconsciousness leaving his son undefended. I'm sorry, Ran.
Snake Attack
[Somewhere North of Mount Eredren]
Aralore stared at the gray object sailing toward her. Exhaustion fogged her mind. Is that a rock? Who’s throwing rocks at me and why? The projectile fell short of its mark, but it had done its job and awakened her from a walking doze.
Aralore squinted into the dark and cursed the waning half moon. It refused to throw any more light on the long incline she trudged up. But that was all right because she had God on her side, and through him all things were possible.
Downed trees paralleled her path. The
y pointed the way back to Mount Eredren and hid her attacker, of course. She’d seen no one out here since leaving Mount Eredren except a whole lot of enchanted trees, but Shayari did have a brigand problem. Well, let them come. My sword’s thirsty.
The pole ground into Aralore’s shoulder as the crystal expanded again. They had to stop four times in the last hour to strip more branches and turn them into poles so more acolytes could help carry it. Every acolyte she had left—ten in total—supported its ever-growing weight. Soon, it would burst its box, but Aralore suppressed that thought.
I just need to deliver it to Mount Eredren. But that damned mountain didn’t look any closer. Though, that could be a trick of the dark and the moonlight reflecting off the mountain's snow-capped peak. Night had blanketed the space between, making the mountain seem farther away than it probably was.
“Preceptor, look out!” Somnya shouted.
Velor shoved her aside, and Aralore released the pole, so she could catch herself. The wooden platform canted, and a white box slid toward its edge dislodging its mirrored lid. Black rays swept out of that widening gap and stabbed everything within reach.
“Get under the platform,” Aralore shouted, but it was too late.
A rock struck what’s-his-name—Harl—Holkson? —in the head, and he stumbled into those searching beams. Light spiraled out of his collapsing body into the black lumir crystal, and it expanded, cracking the Queen of All Trees’ box wide-open. The scant protection it had offered shattered, leaving just a collection of lashed-together branches from formerly enchanted trees between them and the magic-stealer. And its dark essence was seeping through the cracks, running cold fingers down her skin.
Aralore shuddered. If only I could break the crystal. It would be more manageable in smaller chunks. And less dangerous until it grew out of control again, but she could just break it before that happened.
Yes, splitting that stone was her only option. If I could just get close enough to do it. Her hand tightened on her sword, but her strength ran out of her into that expanding black gem on the platform. It pressed her acolytes into the dirt. Groans and moans punctuated the silence as she struggled to rise. Her foot slipped sending rocks caroming into a ravine.
Curse Breaker: Sundered Page 10
