The Warrior's Curse

by Jennifer A. Nielsen

  In my previous battle with Endrick, chunks of the ceiling had fallen, but now, with a single glance of my eyes, other pieces fell, large metal squares directly above where Joth stood. Using the same magic, he halted the pieces in midair, then fluttered his fingers until they fell like snow around him. He gathered them together and began to raise a wall as his barricade. I charged forward, hoping to get to him before the wall was formed, but when I got too near, he merely pushed the wall toward me.

  I saw it tilt, then placed the sword directly in front of me, blade up. The wall fell as intended but split in half exactly across the sword, leaving two metal slabs on either side of me.

  Joth’s face tightened into a grimace. “You have no more claim upon this throne than I do.”

  “I think you meant to say that you have no claim upon this throne whatsoever.”

  He raised his hand, brushing his fingers together as if sparks of magic should somehow appear there. “Without my magic, Endrick would still be alive. So I believe I have some claim.”

  I didn’t flinch. “Kneel to me now, Joth. It is the only way you will survive this.”

  He smiled. “I think that you meant to say I am the only one who will survive this.”

  Using the same magic Endrick had used against me multiple times, I willed his body to kneel. He did so but crouched lower and pressed his hands flat on the marble floor, which rippled away and knocked me off my feet. Once I fell, he darted for me, but I struck at him with Harlyn’s sword, getting in a slice deep enough across his lower legs that he cried out and fell forward.

  He was closer now and grabbed my arm at the same time as I put a hand on his shoulder. This time I was ready, and began pulling strength from him as quickly as I could. He was doing the same, so I began searching for his powers.

  “How dare you?” he snarled. “How dare you try to take my magic, after all I’ve done to get you this far?”

  “It isn’t your magic, or mine,” I replied. “This is fire, and either you or I will burn with it.”

  I used my free hand to reach up toward the chandelier directly overhead. I pulled it down, steering it so that it landed directly on Joth, barely missing me and crashing across his entire body. His hand that had been holding me released and went lax.

  I rolled away, breathless from the energy I’d exerted, and studied Joth’s arm for any sign of movement.

  When I saw none, I stood and backed away, trying to figure out what I should do next, whether this could possibly be over so easily.

  Turning around the room in hopes of sensing anyone else who was here with me, I asked the half-lives, “Is he dead? I need to know—”

  My answer came when I happened to see Joth’s hand form into a fist, and then the fingers flew apart. I was slammed backward, skidding along the floor. Behind me, every window along the room’s glass wall shattered with a violence that shook the building.

  I started to get up, then felt a sharp pain in my leg and my head swam with dizziness. Looking down, I realized a shard of the glass had lodged in my thigh. I tried to pull it out, but I was weaker than before, and it was in deep. The edges of the glass cut my hands and even the slightest tug made me cry out in pain.

  Joth emerged from beneath the chandelier as if it too were made of dust. “That must hurt,” he said, rubbing his hands together as if to gather his strength.

  “It’s easier to tolerate than a kiss from you,” I retorted.

  He flinched, but quickly regained his composure to say, “This ends today. At noon, I’ll meet my subjects in the palace courtyard. Most of them will bow simply to avoid any trouble.”

  I tugged again at the glass, biting down on my lip to remain strong enough to continue. Meanwhile, Joth used his hands to raise all the other pieces of glass over my head.

  “A few may stubbornly resist. For their benefit, Simon has challenged me to a duel. When I defeat him—and I will defeat him—he will kneel or die in his place. Then the rest of the citizenry will be given the same choice. The end of this story has already been determined, Kestra. Please stop fighting me. Reconnect powers with me and let us return to a true partnership once more.”

  “We never were partners, and this fight is only just beginning.” I yanked out the shard of glass at the very same moment as he let the pieces of glass fall. I searched for a way to stop them and failed, but the glass fell in a perfect circle around me … as if I were protected by some sort of barricade.

  “You half-lives are my subjects!” he screamed. “Betray me here and I will never heal you. I will destroy what is left of you, just as Endrick destroyed so many others!”

  “Attack him,” I said to those same half-lives. “You have nothing to lose now.”

  Joth attempted to shield himself, but the half-lives pushed straight through his protections, rolling over him and leaving him gasping for breath. He would be vulnerable now, as vulnerable as I had been last night down in the tunnels. This might be my only chance.

  I stood again, though I was limping as I moved toward him, my sword out and ready.

  He leaned up on his arms, raising one hand in a defensive position. “If you intend to strike, do so with mercy. Kestra, this isn’t me. Surely you will not be cruel when the same corruption is in you. We are both victims to its power.”

  “Kneel to me,” I said.

  He glanced at my injured leg. “You need help, or that will bleed out.”

  “My leg is fine.”

  “It’s not. Perhaps you should kill me now,” he said. “Otherwise, when I get my strength back, you know that I will attack you again. With that injured leg, I will easily win.”

  I did know that. This is how I must have been last night, in the tunnels with Harlyn. But I struggled with the memory. My mind had been playing tricks with me down there. Right now, full of strength and magic and once again within reach of great power, wasn’t this what I wanted?

  I looked up at the Scarlet Throne, unscathed despite the battle Joth and I had just waged. The throne was mine.

  Yet something last night had changed me. I was prepared to kill Joth here, if necessary, but I had no wish for that, nor would I find any satisfaction in his death. I preferred to show him mercy and hope he accepted my terms.

  “I’ve got to weaken you further,” I said to him. “If you cooperate, you will live, but I need you to be unable to use your powers until your mother discovers a way to withdraw the corruption. Go to your knees.” That way I could reach his neck without him being in easy reach of me.

  “If my mother succeeds, will you connect with me once more?”

  “No, Joth.” My voice was gentle, but his body contracted at my words. I had not wanted to hurt him, but there was clearly danger in any connection between his magic and mine. “Now please, go to your knees and live.”

  He obeyed and lowered his head, his hands in his lap. I approached him cautiously and put my hand on his neck, but the second I began to pull strength from him, he muttered, “Or you will go to your knees, and die.”

  Joth twisted around with one leg, and I was swept off my feet, landing hard on my shoulder and injured leg. I rolled to one side to gather my breath, then felt myself being sent backward toward the shattered windows. I tried to find anything to hold on to, anything to slow the speed at which I was headed toward the edge.

  Then I went over it.

  I’d escaped the throne room this way before, but Basil had been ready with a net below to catch me. Now there was nothing, only a long fall to the hard ground. I passed treetops and leaves and lost consciousness somewhere on the way down from a limb of a tree.

  My last thought was that I was nowhere near the ground. But I soon would be.

  Shortly before noon, the palace courtyard was so packed with people that a gnat wouldn’t have fit inside. Few of them would have chosen to be here, but nobody wanted to be reported as absent, should Joth win. And if I was being honest with myself, he likely would.

  In the center of the courtyard, a raised platfo
rm had been built so that everyone would have an easy view of the events. Or I hoped they could see us. My only chance today was to get the public on my side.

  Once I stepped onto the platform, I made a full rotation, surveying each group in attendance. Most of the Alliance members were here, but I also saw Dallisor nobility, former Dominion soldiers, and a surprisingly high attendance of civilians, the majority of whom I assumed had been Loyalists. I wondered how many of them would quickly claim allegiance to the victor of this duel, simply as a means of survival.

  “Listen to me now!” I hoped my voice would carry to the farthest corners of the courtyard. “I will be the first to stand against Joth Tarquin today, but I hope that I will not stand alone. Joth can attack one or two or maybe three of us at a time, but hundreds of us are here. Fight with me, and his reign will end today.”

  The enthusiastic reaction I had hoped for was more of a light applause. Less confident now, I continued. “You deserve a ruler who will fight for your lives, not threaten them with every breath he utters. Who will protect your freedoms, and serve you more than you serve him. That is not Joth Tarquin.”

  The crowd’s cheer was instantly diminished by cries behind me when light burst from out of nowhere and, from its center, Joth marched toward the platform, his arms raised as if he were already the victor. He made the same rotation as I had done only seconds ago, then widened his arms overhead for silence.

  “Lord Endrick is dead. You have been freed from his oppression!” A muted applause went up from the audience, with the exception of those who had been true Dominion Loyalists. They only stared at Joth with solemn expressions that masked their true emotions. They had no desire to see me win, but I suspected their feelings for Joth were far more acidic.

  Joth lowered his arms, his hands now in fists. “I must admit, I expected more enthusiasm to greet your new king. Perhaps that is because you do not know me, and maybe you fear me. You will know me in time, and it is right that you should feel this fear because I have powers that extend beyond even what Lord Endrick could do. However, as of this moment, I have no quarrel with any of you, so there will be no revenge on Dallisors, on Halderians, or on Antorans. For that reason, I alone can bring us together.”

  A more enthusiastic applause followed. If it was sincere, then I was already in trouble. Hadn’t they all heard the part about fearing him?

  Joth raised his sword and pointed at me. “This so-called Halderian king has no royal blood, nor even a drop of the blood of the people he claims to lead. The most he can offer is yet another battle in which many of you will die today. Or if you step forward now and remove him from this platform, the war is over. Accept me as your king, and there will be no need for any more fighting among us.”

  Off to the right, where the Dallisors had been standing, a fervor of conversation arose, and movement shifted toward the platform. So the Dallisors had chosen sides after all, and it wasn’t for me. I prepared myself to face them, but they had taken no more than ten steps toward me when Commander Reese signaled my cavalry to form a line in front of the Dallisors. Gabe and Basil also led their groups in that same direction, then stood facing the Dallisors, weapons ready.

  I had turned to watch it happen, long enough to see the Dallisors back down, but as soon as they did, Joth struck me from behind. As a strange bit of luck, I felt the hard blow against the back of my legs, but he cursed in disappointment. At a slightly different angle, that would have given me a crippling cut.

  Still, I was knocked to the ground and rolled away just in time for Joth to stab his sword downward. Based on the force with which it hit the ground, I knew he had intended it to be a death blow.

  When I rolled, I angled my sword upward to take a swipe at him, but when I did, his eyes darted leftward and, with them, my blade was forced in that direction and fell to the ground. I glared at him, and he only winked at me. His game had begun.

  I grabbed the sword again and stood, facing off with him, but as before, he was quietly using magic against me. This time, my feet felt as if they were embedded in inches of mud. I could move them but only with great effort, making it nearly impossible to swing at him with any effect.

  “Surrender now,” Joth said. “You’re embarrassing yourself, Simon.”

  “How pathetic it must be to know magic is your only hope of winning. Those who recognize what you are doing will see how weak you truly are.”

  Instantly, my feet were released, and Joth attacked again, though I was ready for him, parrying his blow and then countering with one of my own, leaving a slice across his arm. The audience gasped, for it was the first strike to draw blood. However, our duel was far from finished, and I had no doubt that Joth would cheat as often as necessary.

  We continued to levy blows against each other, though Joth was still using magic in the subtlest of ways. At the moment, the platform floor was constantly changing angles, so slight it wouldn’t be visible, but I felt it every time I tried to get a stable footing. And I believed the wind changed direction to come at my face, no matter which direction I turned, while Joth’s hair was barely ruffled.

  Finally, I got behind him long enough for a strike across his legs, exactly where he had attacked me first, but my sword was turned to cause far greater damage. He fell forward, his own sword tumbling out of his reach. I started toward it, but he turned and raised a hand toward me. I was hit with a force that knocked me backward hard enough to break the ropes that had surrounded our platform. I fell off the edge and into the crowd.

  Gasps echoed through the courtyard, and when I climbed onto the platform again, a cheer followed. Angrily, Joth grabbed a knife from his waistband and shouted, “I am your king! Bow to me, or you will die!”

  Then he threw the knife directly at me. No doubt it was sent on the wings of magic, which meant it could not miss.

  He had no intention of losing.

  Neither did I.

  There was no explanation for me to have awoken, other than that I now had Endrick’s powers and, with them, his near immortality. The wounds in my leg and in my hands had healed, though both were sore to the touch. Although I was capable of standing, I continued to lie in the snow without moving. Joth’s attack on me was the nearest I’d ever come to death, and I was still shaken from it. Even Lord Endrick, knowing I was the Infidante, had been controlled in anything he had ever done to me. Joth was untethered from any compass between good and evil. He was sheer venom.

  What Joth was, what Lord Endrick had been, would be me in time. That was as inevitable as the rising sun each day. I could see it now in full view, with all its ugliness and stain.

  I could see myself now, as if reflected by the clearest mirror, and all I wished was to shatter it, to shatter that part of myself. If only it were possible.

  Loelle had said that, for all her searching, she had found no way to pull the corruption from me. Every attempt that Joth had made to take my magic did weaken me, but it always returned. Over and over, I had been assured that with magic would come corruption and that any chance of a cure was hopeless.

  Yet deep within my mind, I had always held to one small possibility, something that had not been tried, had not even been considered: If magic could not be pulled from me, could I give it away?

  I lay with that thought for some time, rolling it around in my head like a loose marble that shifted with every movement I made, never settling in one place long enough to know if there was anything tangible to my ideas.

  And finally I sat up, having made my decision. What I was about to attempt would likely fail, and failure here meant certain death. But in my current weakened state, I knew that I could not continue to live as I had been. I had to take this chance.

  Lord Endrick had come to power by killing all those whose magic he wanted, thus obtaining their powers for himself. At some point, he must have begun to sense his own mortality, should someone ever make him the target. So he poured a portion of his magic into the Olden Blade. Whatever thus happened to him would be i
rrelevant, because the magic in the Olden Blade could restore him.

  It was a plan that should have worked, until the Olden Blade was stolen. Then the object that could save his life now became the sole object that could take it.

  And I had done just that.

  Despite that, Endrick’s plan had been a good one. So good, in fact, that I wondered if there was any hope of my doing the same. I wouldn’t use the Olden Blade. It already held magic, and I didn’t know how the powers already existing there might merge with mine.

  I glanced down at Harlyn’s disk bow and then remembered the satchel at my side with the two disks. One black and one white.

  Perfect.

  I set the black disk on the ground in front of me and studied it awhile. Nothing about it was more remarkable than any other disk I’d ever seen. It was a simple metallic circle with a color to designate its purpose.

  Black, for death.

  The other, white, to separate the soul of the victim from her body, creating a half-life. The eternal punishment.

  For my purposes, they both would now have a very different use.

  Holding the white disk in my hands, I willed only a single power into the metal, the ability to control the heartbeat of another, as Endrick had used for the Ironhearts. I felt the power empty from me, down to nearly nothing, yet I wasn’t worried. As always happened, I knew it would eventually return, as strong as before. But now I had preserved the magic for another use.

  The black disk had a higher price, for it was the greatest of all of Endrick’s powers, to take a person’s magic by killing them. It was the one power I had to protect above all others, and might be the only way to restore myself before this battle was finished.

  Sending magic into the black disk felt similar to when Joth had pulled strength from me. I was drained in a most literal sense and was physically weakening. Yet this was different too because I wasn’t fighting its release. Instead, I was forcing this element of magic out of me like a fountain would spew its water.