Curse Breaker: Sundered

by Melinda Kucsera

  Sharp rocks lined that declivity. Were they sharp enough to crack a black lumir crystal? Something sparkled in the vanishing sunlight. Was there water down there? There was something about lumir crystals and water. What was it?

  Aralore dodged another projectile as she struggled to remember.

  “Who’s attacking us? Who even knows we’re out here?” Somnya asked as she hunkered down under the litter.

  “No one except the folks who sold us that rock,” Velor replied. “And they aren't the type to go traipsing about the forest.”

  But the Wild Hunt was. Had they finally realized her plan? Aralore groped for her sword. Good, it was still sheathed at her hip. If they come, I'll destroy them. And she'd save their current victims, but that was just a bonus.

  Aralore waited, husbanding her waning strength, but the Wild Hunt didn't appear. Only more rocks did. Damn them. Soon they’ll be nowhere you can hide from me.

  Nor were her keen eyes the only ones scouring the devastation around them for a target. But all she found were formerly enchanted trees felled by the black lumir crystal. Some were dead and dusted already, but a few clung to life. They shuddered and pawed feebly at the ground as if they could escape into the earth that had birthed them.

  Crystals and water—that thought Aralore had been chasing finally surrendered to her. A cracked lumir crystal extinguished when placed in water because the magic that powered its glow had issues with that substance. What about black lumir crystals? Did they share their nonlethal cousin’s problem with that life-sustaining liquid?

  Are you enchanted? Aralore thought at the water below. Since this was Shayari, it might just be.

  “On three, tilt the platform.”

  “But—"

  “It's our only choice. On three, dump the rock into that ravine. One. Two …”

  “But Preceptor—”

  “Do it now.”

  Everyone heaved, and the black lumir crystal tumbled into space. Its black rays slammed into two of her acolytes as it fell, ripping their essence out. Two blackening husks collapsed where they’d stood bringing the death toll to four so far.

  “No,” Somnya crawled to one of the stricken girls and clasped her lifeless hand. All warmth had left with her light, stolen by the gem bouncing from rock to rock on its trip to the bottom. Nerlefa was a crispy corpse in an orange robe now.

  Aralore relaxed when the ravine’s steep walls channeled the stone’s nullifying power upward and away from them. “We’ll see her in the last war,” she said but the phrase sounded hollow even to her ears. Aralore squeezed Somnya’s shoulder then regarded her seven surviving acolytes.

  “We need a boulder and to bury our dead.”

  “Why do we need a boulder? I say we leave that horrid stone where it is and get as far away from it as we can.”

  “Nim is right. That stone’s grown too dangerous. We can’t move it any further without risking our lives.” Somnya closed her friend’s blackened eyes, and Nerlefa's body collapsed into a human-sized pile of ash.

  “Not if we break it. In smaller chunks, it’s less dangerous.” Aralore pushed to a stand and rubbed her shoulders. They ached from hauling that damned rock around.

  “Until it grows too large to contain—what then?” Nim asked.

  “We break it again. It’s a self-renewing resource. I admit my plan had a few flaws, but all I had to go on were myths. You all knew the risks. They haven’t changed, but the rewards have.”

  Aralore paused long enough to gauge the mood of her acolytes and make eye contact with each of them before continuing. She had to convince them somehow.

  “You saw that abomination flying around Mount Eredren. That rock can knock it back to hell where it belongs. And it’s our only weapon against the forest and that immortal murdering scourge called the Wild Hunt. Don't you dare forget about them and the evil they do every year. But with that stone, we can stop them.”

  Aralore pointed to the ravine but kept her hand away from it. Her rhetoric wasn’t convincing them. She needed more.

  “We can stop them all. There's no magical menace we can't overcome. My heart hurts for those we lost today, but they’re three people stacked up against the millions who’ve already been lost and the millions more that will be lost if we don’t use that crystal to break the tyranny of magic and its ilk.”

  “So your plan is to smash that crystal. Who’ll gather the shards?”

  “I will. This is my plan. I’ll see it through to the—” Aralore stopped and stared as those killing black rays cut off. She rushed to the ravine’s edge. “Where’s that crystal?”

  “That’s my question.”

  “Behind you!” Velor shouted.

  Aralore whirled and threw the dagger hidden up her sleeve at the scaly, gray-skinned woman approaching her. It struck the creature in the shoulder, and she laughed but kept coming. The abomination moved languidly, flaunting her exotic gray scales and her long bare legs. Aralore drew her sword, disgusted by the sight of such an obvious construct.

  “Nice speech, by the way.” Snake Woman paused and slow clapped. You almost convinced me to join your little band. Almost. But I've got other plans for that gem, and they don’t include you.”

  Snake Woman bared her fangs, but she didn't advance. She waited for Aralore to make the first move. Apparently, her first dagger hadn’t made the correct impression. I’ll fix that. Aralore threw again, and her second dagger sank to the hilt into the creature’s heart. But that damned construct didn't fall. She probably didn’t even have a heart, just a knot of magic animating her.

  Snake Woman eyed the blade sprouting between her breasts as if it were a particularly loathsome insect. If any blood flowed from the wound, Aralore couldn't see it. There were too many reflective discs in the way. But her aim was true, she'd punctured the exact center of one of those fist-sized discs. They must have been made of an inferior metal.

  “You better not have ruined my poncho. It’s the only one I own, and I need it.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Who am I? I’ve been slagged by an untried boy, narrowly escaped being squashed by a rampaging golem only to be stabbed by a holy joke of a priestess who threw the goddamned Eye of the Adversary into a hole in the ground? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Snake Woman doubled over shaking with laughter, but that was just a ruse. Aralore readied herself for the fight to come. This abomination could be capable of anything, and she was. In one fluid motion, Snake Woman ripped the dagger out of her heart, and her body exploded, sending a hail of snakes at them. Aralore's other dagger dropped to the ground point-first and skewered a wriggling snake while more snakes of every variety fell on Aralore and her acolytes.

  “True believers do not fear snake bites. Their venom can’t interfere with our holy quest!”

  Aralore seized a striking snake, catching it right behind its head and bashed its head on the rocks.

  “This is a distraction. She wants our crystal. Don’t let her take it.”

  Laughter greeted her warning. “Of course, I want that stone. You’re not the only one who needs to break some spells.”

  “Who are you, really?” Aralore swatted two more snakes aside with her sword as she headed for the ravine.

  “Catch me if you can.”

  “I won’t let you have it.”

  “Then you’d better reach it first.”

  Get Out

  [Four Miles Away]

  The Adversary stalked through the stronghold inside Mount Eredren, searching for three things—a mage and his son, a willing helper, and any sign of his cross-toting nemesis. The Covenant should tie the Son of Man’s hands and keep Him from doing anything other than whisper into the hearts of mortals, but even His softest whisper could move mountains.

  Where are you, Son of Man? I know you’re here somewhere. I felt your arrival. But that was many hours ago, so many in fact, he'd lost track. It was time to remedy that. The Adversary combed through the thoughts streaming by but f
ound no sign of the Son of Man.

  Despite the beast in the pit and its temper tantrums, the residents of the stronghold's upper levels went about their lives as if their fates didn't rest in his incorporeal hands. Those Litherians had built their stronghold tough. So far, the Ægeldar's antics hadn’t disturbed anything beyond this level. Where are you, my nemesis? It's not like you to hide.

  Perhaps it was the lateness of the hour. The pleasures of the flesh were calling, and desire’s siren song was busy luring the less-than-virtuous to indulge their dark sides. Good was ebbing as its nightly nadir approached, lessening the Son of Man’s power and increasing the Adversary's. Perhaps that was why he couldn't find any trace of the Son of Man.

  As the citizens of the upper levels of the mountain stronghold fell under desire's sway, strength flowed into the Adversary. Each sin was a link in the chain connecting them to him, and he pulled on that link, lifting them from their tables and their beds.

  “Come, Sinners, thy time is nigh. Gratify your desires. Ignore any outcry. Come, Sinners, thy time is nigh. On your dark father, rely. To him, you must now fly. Come, Sinners, thy time is nigh.”

  At his call, they dismounted from their lovers, or pushed back their chairs, shelving their greedy plans and walked out to do his bidding. They stood in the hallways under the pale lumir crystal glow of the mosaics overhead. The black lumir crystal had only snuffed out the lights on the lowest levels of the stronghold inside Mount Eredren. It was nibbling away at the level above, but something was hindering its progress. Perhaps it was the distance or some property of the pit that had trapped it for an unknown number of years.

  The Adversary filed that curiosity away for later when he’d broken the First Seal on his power and his prison. That black lumir crystal couldn’t go anywhere in the meantime, and it might be useful in the future.

  At his call, they came from all walks of life and in varying degrees of undress. All were blank-eyed and staring at the dark star of his mind. He toyed with the idea of sending his newest conquests after the Son of Man. But I tried that once before and created the most powerful martyr in history. No, I’ll send them after Sarn.

  The Adversary sent the eerily still crowd what he’d gleaned from the Question. He’d caught only one fleeting glimpse of Sarn before the Question had been interrupted. The Queen of All Trees’ spell had obscured his face but not his clothes, his height nor the unusual color of his eyes. And, that young man had been wearing some kind of tattered uniform. If I enthrall enough of the populace, they’ll find him by sheer dumb luck.

  “Find this young man and bring him to me.”

  His newest thralls shambled off to do his bidding until those accursed bells rang the next hour then he'd lose some to the demands of their consciences.

  “He’s here, Master,” whispered one of his shadows.

  They were the fading remnants of the minions that had failed him in the past. His dark gift ensured they remained animate even when he put them out of mind, but they weren’t capable of independent thought, which explained why quite a few hours had passed since they’d sent him a report. He hadn’t asked for one until now.

  “Show me.”

  The Adversary touched those shadows with the dark anemone of his mind. I see you, Mageling. Through the eyes of his shadows, the Adversary regarded a hazy man-shaped outline holding something—a child maybe? The Queen of All Trees' shield still rendered Sarn almost invisible, but not the infernal mark he bore, and through that, the Adversary could dimly sense that mage.

  Surprise, surprise, Sarn wasn’t in the Lower Quarters, but he would be soon. His thralls herded Sarn toward the stairs and a long drop, but they could use a little push. The Adversary balled up a mild compulsion and launched it at Sarn. Midair, that black ball burst into a set of translucent chains to give his shadows a handle on Sarn.

  “Send him down. I’ll be waiting.” The Adversary would have smiled if he hadn’t been stretched thin enough to distribute his consciousness to almost every corner of Mount Eredren.

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Master!” Dirk shouted. “You must see this.”

  An image came with Dirk’s alarmed mind-call. He flew in a wide circuit above the rocky cliff where a bunch of snakes attacked a group of orange-robed clerics. Snake Woman must have finally acted. Well, it was about time.

  “Look there, Master.” Dirk pointed at a falling object.

  The Adversary’s jaw dropped open. “What the hell is she doing? That can’t be what I think it is.”

  Oh, but it was. A few minutes ago, a barely perceptible ball of darkness shot through with gray streaks had sailed into that gorge chased by thin streams of light. It was the black lumir crystal, of course, but it was no longer in Aralore’s keeping. In growing horror, he watched it sink into a roiling abyss of frothy white water, and a black funnel cloud shot skyward out of that deep ravine.

  “Of all the stupid things you could have done, why did you throw it into the river? Don’t you know every damned thing in your country is enchanted? Where do you think all the magic in your country goes—into the ground and the water. Magic flows, you stupid girl.”

  “Yes, Master. I’ll fetch it.”

  “Don’t. I’m not sure what it’ll do to you if you get too close to it. Right now, I need you to keep an eye on things. Call me the instant something changes. I need to think about this.”

  The Adversary sent his mind along that narrow river. Magic indeed flowed southward with that clear water, but it was only a fraction of the power in the land surrounding it because Shayari was closer to the source for earth magic. Water magic was at its weakest here, but it still flowed, and so did that river.

  After meandering around a flat-topped mountain, it sped toward the much broader River Nirthal and emptied into it. The Adversary opened his eyes to a dark cavern and the pit in its center, which was still occupied by the Ægeldar—no change there, not that there could be. There was no way in heaven or hell that creature could break the bonds holding it in there, but he didn’t feel like lording that over that beast right now. Something flew past the Adversary’s face.

  “You can’t hurt me. I’m not corporeal.”

  Instead of answering, the Ægeldar pounded out a mad tattoo on the walls of its rocky prison. Perhaps it had finally lost what mind it had possessed. Captivity could drive even the most mild-mannered creature insane, and the Ægeldar was far from that.

  The Adversary shook his head and checked his soul-ball. It was caught between the black lumir crystal in the pit and Aralore’s rogue stone. Disturbing that tug-of-war might break the cage holding those souls captive and imperil his plans for that power, so he left it alone.

  Time was ticking down. That fool Aralore had just accelerated the timeline. He must find out how much time he had left.

  The Adversary skinned himself in the garb and face of the everyman—a nondescript laborer in an earth-toned homespun tunic and hose. The kind of guy who wouldn’t be out of place on the dock he materialized on. He'd left the mountain not a moment too soon. The instant he appeared on that bustling pier, the bells of Mount Eredren rang their clarion call and dispelled his influence over all but the most ardent sinners.

  Twenty-two times they petitioned heaven to grant an angel their first set of wings, and twenty-two times heaven replied by sending those angels out. They shot across the sky trailing light and benedictions in their wake, even though a passing cloud veiled their noctilucent journeys to distant stars.

  Damn those bells and their joyful singing. It resonated through the mountain and rolled across the meadow at its feet, reminding the faithful to pray and sinners there was another way.

  Everyone within earshot paused at that first peal and glanced at Mount Eredren, even the men unloading a ship docked in the tiny harbor. When I escape from prison, I'll slag every last one of those bells.

  The Adversary folded his arms and waited. He'd get no answers until those bells ceased their ringing endorsement of heaven. Ele
ven minutes passed before those bells finally shut up, and folks turned their minds back to the business of commerce.

  But he didn’t have to ask the harried young man scribbling notes for the liveried messengers hopping from foot to foot in restless anticipation. Out on the water, an eastward wind belled the enormous square sail of an approaching ship, pushing it against the current.

  That damned river was flowing westward past Mount Eredren’s tiny harbor right now. So would that rogue chunk of hyperactive black lumir once it joined the Nirthal about two miles east of here. How long would that take?

  As the young man turned, he caught the youth’s attention.

  “How fast is the Nirthal running?”

  The youth shrugged. “You'd have to ask Will that. This is my first day.”

  “Where can I find him?”

  “In there,” the young man nodded to a free-standing structure perhaps twenty yards distant. It was a multi-story pile of stones that had once been part of a castle.

  Question answered, the youth glanced at his clipboard and addressed one of the waiting messengers—a coltish girl who'd already made a pretty penny today. She was tallying up how many more runs she needed to earn enough for archery lessons. Her heart was set on joining the Rangers. Apparently, they paid better than the Guards, and she had a sick mother.

  The Adversary blocked her thoughts out of his mind. They were too innocent to twist, but there were others nearby whose minds seethed with resentment and greed. Those he would call after he found this ‘Will.’

  Certain no one was paying him any mind, the Adversary ghosted to that building and into an office of some kind. Through the windows, he had a perfect view of the harbor and the unhelpful youth rushing to meet a docking trireme.

  “Can I help you?” asked another young man as he entered carrying a steaming bowl. It was likely his dinner in there, but without the ability to smell, the Adversary couldn't confirm that.