Curse Breaker: Sundered

by Melinda Kucsera

Leave my son alone! The words still wouldn’t come out. Sarn was still paralyzed by whatever Death had done to him and couldn't do anything to stop that entity from touching his sweet son. Death squatted in front of the cart, and its body blocked Ran from sight. But his son must be terrified. Please, don’t hurt him, he’s just a baby. I’m so sorry, Ran. I’ll get you out of this somehow.

  But how? Sarn was frozen with no magic to help him unless he invoked the Question again. Who knew how long that trial would take to finish? No, restarting that here was a bad idea.

  Sarn kept trying to move but repeated commands to his arms and legs only budged him a fraction of an inch—too slow to help his son. There must be a way.

  Before he could think of one, Death appeared in front of him. A skeletal hand touched his shoulder releasing a flood of cold through his body. Sarn convulsed, and his knees buckled, dumping him onto the ground. He reached under the cart and located his son, who squirmed like his life depended on it. And Sarn laughed with relief. Ran was alive. Sarn dragged the struggling boy out and hugged him hard.

  “Eep,” Ran said as he stilled. Sarn loosened his hold. He might have hugged a little too hard.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay, Papa. Death and I had a nice chat. Want a muffin?” Ran held up a half-eaten, apple-studded ovoid, and Sarn laughed until he felt Death’s eyes on him.

  “Oh, don’t stop on my account. I’d love to see my Chosen’s face when he sees your son.” Death tapped Nolo’s shoulder. The arrows protruding from it vanished back into a proper quiver strapped to his back.

  Before his master could turn around, Sarn shoved Ran under the cart. Death tossed something at him, and he caught it on reflex. It was a roll. What the hell?

  Death shrugged. “You’ve been put to the Question. Making life-changing decisions is hungry work, so eat up.”

  Death nodded, and a clatter arose behind Sarn. The roll split open in his hands, and eggs, sausages and a dizzying array of sautéed vegetables flew out from under the cloth covering the cart. However, only the veggies landed on the bread.

  The eggs and sausages revolved around it as a knife appeared and started chopping. All the slices lined up like cards in a deck. The knife vanished, and an invisible hand, Death’s no doubt, dealt those slices onto the bread, which was now one of those new-fangled sandwich things Miren liked to rave about. The two halves swung together, and Sarn’s mouth-watered for a taste.

  When Death offered you a boon, you took it—or in this case—ate it. So Sarn did, and it was delicious. Peppers, mushrooms, cheese and tomatoes had also manifested inside the sandwich.

  “What Question?” Nolo turned on the lanky apparition of Death.

  “I wish you’d warn me before you manifest like that. You scared my apprentice half to death.”

  “But I fed him, so I think we’re square now. Aren’t we?” Death winked at Sarn, and he nodded.

  When your betters discussed you, it was best to stay silent. Besides, the sandwich was a deliciously warm weight in his belly, and it was making Sarn drowsy.

  Nolo noticed the arrow in his hand and shoved it into his quiver, and they both vanished. He glared at Death. “Explain what this ‘Question’ thing is.”

  Death shrugged. “I picked the most merciful death in your quiver. It would be kinder than letting this farce continue.”

  “Than letting what continue? You still haven’t explained what this ‘Question’ business is.”

  Sarn shoved his lingering fears aside as he rose. Death wasn’t someone a sane man wanted to confront especially while hiding a small child, but he needed answers. His list of allies had grown worryingly thin lately.

  Sarn stood in front of the cart just in case Ran decided to peek out from under it. Because Ran would, his son was too curious for his own good—a trait he shared.

  Death nodded as it receded into the Black Ranger's shadow. “Some decisions kill. Some grant long life. It depends on the Question, and who’s being asked.”

  “Which answer will damn me?”

  Death didn’t answer, though its shadow elongated. Sarn bumped the cart with his hip to move it, and the child hiding under it, beyond Death’s outstretched shadow. Death had decided to duck the question. And I have no idea which decision will damn me.

  Sarn glanced at the cart. What about my son? Will he be affected by my decision? Undoubtedly, but how? Sarn massaged his temples. The Question had taken a dangerous turn. What am I going to do? I can’t stay in limbo forever, but I won't damn my son.

  Nolo pried Sarn’s hands away from his face and dragged him away from the cart. “What is this ‘Question’ thing? Explain it to me while we walk. You must see a healer, and I must take over the watch.”

  “Something’s happened, hasn’t it?” It had, Sarn could read it in his master’s eyes. “Tell me, please.”

  “It’s nothing you need to worry about, just the usual Rangers’ business,” Nolo lied, but his eyes told the truth.

  Something was happening outside of Mount Eredren, and it worried Nolo. What could have happened?

  Sarn pulled free. “Don’t send me to the infirmary. Give me some time to deal with this.”

  Sarn gestured to his dull green eyes. And here it was, time to put his own question to his master. “One night, that’s all I’m asking for. Will you grant me one night off to deal with this?”

  Nolo gave him another once-over, grimacing at what he saw then he shook his head. “What about that friend you mentioned?”

  “If I can help him, I will. But I think this must come first. I’m not sure if I can help anyone until I fix my situation.”

  And that truth stung. Without his magic he was half the man he was yesterday, and that cut deep. Sarn stalked over to the wall opposite the cart and leaned against it. This conversation was unearthing some of his most deep-seated insecurities, and he needed to put some space between them and his son because he didn't want to pass any of that onto Ran. Let the boy snack in blissful ignorance, preferably out of earshot.

  Nolo followed him, but there were equal parts worry and suspicion in his eyes. “I don’t know if that’s wise. You don’t look well. If you’ll see a healer, and he pronounces you fit—”

  “Then you’ll let me go?”

  I hate healers, but if this Question is as deadly as Death claims, maybe I ought to get checked out. But just the thought of letting a healer touch him made Sarn cringe. Can they still drain me if I don’t have any magic? The promise was stronger with his magic blocked. What if the same was true of the healers' touch? They might kill me.

  Sarn shook his head. He couldn’t risk it, not with Ran hiding under a cart. If they were separated, he’d never find the boy, not without his magic. No, the stakes were too high.

  “Yes, if they say you’re okay, and you explain what this ‘Question’ is to my satisfaction, you can have the night off.”

  “But Death said—”

  “Death says a lot of things. That doesn't mean I have to listen. Let's go.” Nolo seized his arm and hauled Sarn toward the adjacent corridor.

  Was the infirmary that way? Sarn couldn't remember. He'd come to rely on his map’s real-time updates, but those had ended when his magic had gone away.

  You could just take your son and go. You could break the promise, whispered a voice in the back of Sarn’s mind. It sounded too much like the Adversary for comfort, so he ignored it. But he dug his heels in as they passed the fountain in the center of the four-way intersection.

  I don’t pick and choose which promises I keep. I don’t want to teach my son that. And I don’t think the oath I swore will allow that. It might tear me apart of I tried. I can’t let that happen. But Sarn was verging on insubordination just by stopping.

  “Let’s go. That's an or—” Nolo started to say, letting frustration get the better of him, but Sarn cut him off before his master could say that most damning of words.

  “Don't say it. Please, don't.”

  Sarn glanced at t
he cart. It waited about fifty feet away, give or take. Ran was still hidden by it and no doubt listening to their entire exchange. The boy had exceptional hearing. How can I get us both out of this and keep my son a secret?

  There was no way, not without sacrificing everything he’d done for the last four years. Sarn opened his mouth to call his son out of hiding and say the words that would rip their world apart. Before he could get a single word passed the lump in his throat, the ground shook. The dishes on the cart clinked, but none fell. Was that Fate intervening on his behalf?

  “Not another earthquake, haven't we had enough of those this year?” Nolo glared at Sarn, but he raised his hands to fend off the implied accusation.

  “I'm not doing this. I can't access that part of my magic right now.”

  So technically, Mount Eredren couldn't sense him. Was that the problem? Did I damn everyone inside the mountain when I let the Question take my magic? Sarn stared at Nolo dumbstruck by the realization, and he almost invoked the Question right then and there. But Mount Eredren groaned, and a loud rumble startled him. Cracks shot toward the cart and his hidden son.

  As Sarn stared at them in mute horror, his map sprang up. Since it didn't have any information to add, he banished it just in time to see the floor buckling around them. The bells of Mount Eredren picked that moment to start ringing in the twenty-third hour of the day. Their slow, solemn tolling sounded like a death knell. Not for my son, I won't let you take him from me, Death.

  Sarn shoved Nolo hard in the chest sending his master backpedaling into the nearest wall where the floor should be more stable, then he turned and rushed toward the cart and his son. He must save his son even if that meant revealing him.

  Second Chances

  When he opened his eyes again, Ragnes lay on a carpet of silver leaves. Another wraith knelt beside him, but his liquid-black mask pulled back to reveal Dirk’s concerned face.

  “Where’s Gore?” he asked as Ragnes stirred.

  “Gone, I hope. He embraced his wraith-hood, and I think he fed it, strengthening that side of his nature until it was dominant. There wasn’t much left of the Gore we knew.”

  “But you didn’t?” Dirk took his arm and helped him up.

  Ragnes shook his head and regarded his empty hands—hands he would never use to take anything else that did not rightfully belong to him. That part of his life was done and over with, and now it was time to repent and make reparations if he could.

  “I couldn’t do it. I felt the hunger, but I couldn’t give in to it. Dirk, it wanted to feed on the souls of the Foundlings, and I just couldn’t do that. They’re only children.”

  Ragnes met his friend’s eyes hoping for understanding. He found it. Dirk squeezed his shoulder.

  “Did Gore feed on any of the Foundlings?” Bear asked.

  “I don't know. I couldn’t go inside to check. I was afraid to get too close to them lest that same hunger claim me too.”

  Ragnes gazed at the ground, his shoulders slumped as he professed the very thing his friends had always accused him of—cowardice. Part of him hadn’t wanted to know if anyone had been harmed by Gore. There wasn’t anything he could have done for them anyway, but that didn't make him feel any better about it.

  Bear shook his head but not in disgust. “Add that to the list of things we need to deal with later.”

  “So, you’re saying Gore can’t be brought back because he went too far into the darkness?” Dirk looked from Ragnes to the silver tree ablaze with the same light that had purified him.

  She inclined her crown, but it was the stuffed bear perched on one of her branches who answered. Maybe she couldn’t, and that was okay. He had a feeling if she ever did speak directly to him, he wouldn’t survive the experience.

  “That’s my guess, but whether he’s gone or temporarily disrupted—I can’t answer that.”

  “So, you’re saying he could pull himself together?”

  “Yes, wraiths are hard to destroy.”

  “Then I must go back. I must protect the Foundlings. He’ll claim their souls if I don’t stop him. You must send me back right now.” Ragnes beseeched the Queen of All Trees.

  “Gore would never do that.”

  “He’s not the man you knew anymore. He’s anger and hunger and darkness all wrapped up in an indestructible package.”

  “I don’t’ believe it.” Dirk folded his arms and shook his head.

  “You didn’t see his eyes. That hunger is consuming him. He would have eaten my soul if he could have gotten to it.” And that brought up an interesting question. One Ragnes needed answered. “Do I still have a soul?”

  “Yes, the Adversary owns it, but not even he can stop my Queen from taking your soul back under the right circumstances.”

  “What are the right circumstances?”

  Could dying again to protect the Foundlings count? Ragnes glanced at Bear since he was acting as the Queen of All Trees’ spokesperson.

  “If you’re utterly destroyed, the resulting backlash will free your soul from your wraith-body, and she can collect it.”

  “Can’t he hold onto it?”

  “No, he’s not a psychopomp, but she is.” Bear nodded to the Queen of All Trees.

  “I don’t understand. Then how did he take my soul in the first place?”

  “You gave it to him, and he fashioned you into a wraith. You might have died in between. You’re the first wraiths I’ve ever had a conversation with, so I don’t exactly have a wealth of information to draw upon.”

  “I don't understand. If we gave him our souls, doesn’t he still own them even if we die again?”

  “No, you can’t give him what he already possesses. But you can pledge your soul to her,” Bear gestured to the Queen of All Trees, “and she can collect on that when your wraith-hood ends.”

  Ragnes dropped to one knee stunned by how easy it all sounded. “Then Lady, I pledge my heart, my soul and my mind to you. I’ll do whatever you wish.”

  “As will I,” Dirk said as he knelt beside him.

  “Then arise my champions,” said the Queen of All Trees in a voice like thunder that rocked them to their cores. “There is one task I wish of you. Do it, and you can rest with the bones of your forefathers.”

  Ragnes held up a hand and waited for her to pause before speaking. “What about Gore? If he comes back, someone has to stop him.”

  “Someone will. It just won’t be you,” Bear said.

  “What about Villar and Cris?”

  “We’ve been having trouble calling them. Something is interfering. But with the two of you together, we should be able to cut through that now.”

  Bear hopped down from the branch and fell flat on his face when he took a step on his stubby legs. He was top-heavy, and his little legs couldn’t support his massive head and belly. A silver branch snaked around his waist and set him down by them, and it stayed girdled around Bear’s waist to hold him up since he couldn't do that on his own in such an ungainly body. He patted her branch in thanksgiving.

  “Thank you, my Queen. I wish my magic would hurry up and recuperate so I can make my body more anatomically correct.” Bear gave them a rueful smile. “But we do what we must despite the discomfort along the way.”

  Ragnes nodded. “How do we call them?”

  “Think of them as you knew them, not as they are now. Call to that friendship and hold out an olive branch of hope to them. We’ll do the rest.”

  Dirk squeezed his shoulder, and they closed their eyes. Villar, Cris, hear me, my friends. Your salvation is at hand.

  The Bells of Destruction

  “Bong,” said the bells, but there were no words accompanying their peals this time because the remaining claim on Sarn wasn’t time-based.

  The moment it took for that fact to register was one moment too many. Sarn rushed toward the cart, but he didn't move fast enough.

  “Bong.”

  Tentacles punched through the floor and felt around for something or someone. But
when they grabbed only air, they dropped like giant sledge hammers crushing everything they struck in this case, the floor, leaving two holes the size of enchanted trees behind. And Sarn was caught between them on a fast-shrinking island.

  “Bong.”

  More of the ground dropped away in person-sized chunks as what was left of the floor shook itself to bits. The island was too small for a running start, but Sarn backed up anyway, and it wobbled as he lunged for the cart and his son.

  “Bong.”

  His destination was a narrow strip of stone on the other side of that gap, but it was tilting away from him as a supporting column gave way beneath it. A tentacle batted it around then dashed it into the walls on the level below, collapsing them too and further destabilizing the area.

  “Bong.”

  Sarn slammed into a jagged edge well short of his goal, and the impact drove the breath from his lungs. He scrabbled for a hold to stop his downward slide. Thank Fate, none of the broken stones were sharp enough to cut through the dense weave of his tunic. But they had left bruises where they’d punched him in the chest, and it hurt to breathe.

  “Bong.”

  Sarn finally caught a break when his fingers dug into the carved flagstones and held. All that archery practice came in handy when he chinned himself up without too much trouble, and none too soon since his precarious perch was crumbling away. About twenty feet separated him from his son, but the distance kept increasing as he climbed.

  “Sarn!” Nolo shouted.

  “Bong.”

  A loud crash resounded as one of the corridors feeding into this intersection collapsed and released a choking dust cloud. Sarn buried his face in his arm and hung on until it passed. Hopefully, Ran had done the same. There hadn’t been time to shout a warning.

  “Bong.”

  When the dust cleared, Sarn caught his son's scared eyes. Ran peeked out from behind an ornately carved marble block. Both Ran and his beloved Bear, which was squished against his nose and mouth, were gray from the dust, but unhurt.

  The cart was parked close to the wall where the ground was still stable, and Ran had abandoned it in favor of the statue installation. Good boy, those statues weren’t on wheels, so they should stay put. Ran edged around its base.