Wielder's Curse

by Elle Cardy

  The ship Kristolf had given them was a small fishing vessel. Plain, without a dragon figurehead, yet sturdy enough to sail long distances on the open ocean. Three skilled people could comfortably sail her. They had two plus another one if Jasmine counted Dras and Gley as two halves. On a good day, that could amount to three.

  It turned out Kristolf had provided charts, and Brusan pored over them while Jasmine worked the sails, instructing Dras and Gley on which lines to fasten and which to loosen. They’d left Finn below deck, in the ship’s only hold. The little boat had one compartment below, one above which housed the helm, and the rest was open decks or storage.

  A raindrop landed on Jasmine’s arm. The perpetually gray sky loomed low and dark. A storm was closing in. She hoped it wasn’t going to be a strong one. As it was, the small vessel rocked in the rough waters like a fishing bobber. She hated to think how the vessel would take to a full-blown storm.

  The farther they sailed, the less power she could draw from her Prize. It wasn’t long before the sense of her talisman fled completely. She was alone now, her only tie to magic coming from the small bolt, the insufficient swivel, the puny scrap of canvas, and the little mermaid figurine.

  An incoming swell rolled toward them at a bad angle. Hanging in the rigging above her, Dras had his back to it.

  “Brace,” she cried and grabbed hold of the mast.

  The wave struck the boat, jolting its timbers and sending a surge of water across the deck. The impact wrenched Jasmine’s shoulder, almost knocking her from the rigging. A cry turned her head. Dras fell past. He caught himself in the lines before he hit the deck. As the boat tossed in the waves, he dangled there, his face pale.

  “You all right?” Jasmine called.

  He blinked and untangled himself. With graceful yet slow movements, he reached the deck and examined his hands. Raw and bloody, they looked like they’d been put through a wheat grinder. Rope burn. Not good.

  Jasmine scurried down.

  Gley reached him first. She inspected his hands as the rain fell. Another wave splashed against the deck and washed across their feet.

  “All hands below,” Brusan cried as thunder boomed overhead.

  This was not a good time to be sailing. If only they’d had a choice. It seemed like there was never any choice against the powers. As Jasmine rubbed at her shoulder, she cursed the wind.

  “Midge. Below. Now.”

  Gley and Dras had already gone. The boat dipped, and Jasmine staggered to catch her footing. She ran for safety and slid down the ladder. Brusan followed and secured the hatch. The stink of fish in the hold was all pervasive, a fog rising to choke her.

  Finn lay on a bench in the aft, his head resting on a coiled rope. With his eyes closed and his skin pale, he clutched one arm and shivered.

  She went to him and brushed his hair from his forehead, hating herself for what she’d done.

  “Can you heal him?” Gley asked. “He’s got a broken arm and maybe a concussion.”

  The sound of the waves crashing against the vessel echoed Jasmine’s heart. Using her magic was what got Finn injured. Even if she could use it, she doubted she’d be able to draw enough from her meager talismans to be able to heal a bruise, let alone a broken arm and concussion. Or maybe her magic would flare, and she’d do something worse to Finn.

  Unable to trust her voice, Jasmine shook her head.

  “I thought that was one of your abilities,” Gley said. “What about Dras’ hands? Can you heal them?”

  Dras hid his bleeding hands from sight. “No need. They’re fine.”

  Brusan caught his wrist and turned it. “That ain’t fine.” Dras’ palm was flayed raw and continued to bleed. If his wounds didn’t get attention, they’d quickly become infected.

  Brusan went to a storage shelf and searched through it. He rummaged through another and another until he pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a clean cloth.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Gley said. “I can heal them both. I’ll do you first, Dras.”

  If the girl could heal them, then why ask Jasmine to do it? She recalled Marcelo telling her that healing was a complicated and potentially dangerous thing to do if not done right.

  “I don’t like that idea,” Dras said.

  Without understanding Gley’s skill level, Jasmine didn’t like that idea either. There was no sense attempting something that could make the situation worse.

  “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure,” Gley said. “We’ll need you fully capable for this journey.”

  Thunder pealed above them.

  “I’ll head up,” Brusan said.

  “You can’t,” Jasmine blurted, not willing to lose him too.

  Brusan grinned. “I’ve seen worse, lass. Someone needs to make sure we ain’t shoved off course.”

  Dras flexed his hands. “That’s much better.”

  Jasmine spun. His soft, clean palms taunted her. The only sign of the damage he’d done was a slash of faint pink lines across them, and she suspected those lines would soon fade.

  Anger burned. There was no sane reason for it, yet still it burned. This was simply her power demanding more. She couldn’t afford to listen to it, and forced herself to let it go.

  Brusan grunted. “Handy trick.” He climbed the ladder and left.

  “Now for Finn,” Gley said.

  Jasmine stepped aside to give Gley room and herself a clear view. She wouldn’t miss the healing this time.

  “Are you certain you want to do this so close to healing me?” Dras asked.

  Gley dragged a hand over her face. “I’m fine,” she said as she kneeled by Finn’s side.

  Jasmine leaned in. By watching closely, she might catch the source of Gley’s power. Learning that little secret could help her see more easily when Gley wielded. The better Jasmine could see, the more she’d be able to learn.

  Gley rested her hand on Finn’s broken arm. He winced and groaned in his sleep. She closed her eyes and frowned in apparent concentration. Nothing happened. The girl’s face screwed up. It seemed to Jasmine like the performance of a snake-oil salesman preying on hard-working folk. There was no sign of any real power in the hold. There were no swirls of light, no spots of color, no sizzle of energy.

  Color gradually returned to Finn. At first, Jasmine thought she was imagining it. The strained lines in his face softened. His breathing became deep and slow. It seemed he slept peacefully.

  Gley leaned back, almost falling into Dras. He helped her rise and guided her over to a bench on the port side. Without arguing, she lay down, cradling her arm. She was asleep before Dras could cover her with a blanket.

  Jasmine studied Finn. Was he fully healed? She couldn’t tell without prodding him. Or using her magic.

  “Let them both sleep,” Dras said quietly as he settled himself on the hold’s deck.

  She felt cheated.

  “No need to worry,” he said. “Gley has done as promised. Finn is healed.”

  As Jasmine’s anger mounted, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her magic yearned for more, demanding to learn, to take, to grow. Now that she was without her main talisman, it seemed the desire to learn had inflamed like an infected wound. And she didn’t know why. Maybe it had nothing to do with her lack of talisman and everything to do with this part of the world. There had been power in the mountains surrounding the little hamlet of Hefnargatt. Even Gley had mentioned something about Yactun, that the power was strongest there. Did that mean Jasmine’s yearning would grow stronger again? She wasn’t sure she could handle that.

  The ladder leading up on deck beckoned. A path to escape herself and the others. She took it. Before Dras could protest, Jasmine climbed up and joined Brusan in the whistling wind.

  “You should be below with the others,” Brusan cried through the wind. The rain had eased with only a few droplets landing like needles. The cold was bitter, and the waves that washed over the dec
k were glacial.

  “I can help,” Jasmine cried. While sturdy, the vessel wasn’t indestructible.

  She expected him to make some excuse to ensure her safety. Instead he sent her off to furl a sail that threatened to tear. She was grateful for the hard work.

  Staying busy was the best solution to keeping her mind from the urgent need to learn more magic and the gut-twisting guilt she felt over causing Finn’s injury. Perhaps Brusan knew her better than she thought.

  By the time the winds eased, Jasmine and Brusan were exhausted. The chill in the night air frosted their breath. The others hadn’t emerged from below. Hopefully they were resting well and regaining their strength.

  Without any desire to join them, she settled on deck to watch the stars. The new star burning bright made her shiver. Gley had called it a doorway. The coming of evil. The coming of an enemy. She’d claimed the star signaled the end of all things. Jasmine shivered again.

  Brusan settled a warm blanket around her shoulders.

  She held it close. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Making sure they didn’t drift off course, he secured the wheel. He then joined her in the middle of the deck, balled up another blanket and used it as a pillow. Before long, soft snores greeted her, an oddly comforting sound matched with the gentle wash of the waves against the hull.

  Dawn came too quickly. A pale sun cast misty rays across the dark sea. No other land mass was within sight. They were alone out there.

  Brusan climbed to his feet, his old knees creaking. Using borrowed instruments, he checked their bearings. She would need to ask him how he knew so much about navigation. Other than the officers, the crew on the Prize didn’t know how to use those instruments, including Jasmine, yet Brusan used them with the skill of an old hand.

  He adjusted the wheel and joined Jasmine. In silence they watched the milky ball of the sun climb into a layer of thin clouds, turning to a white glow in the sky.

  “Did you catch the name of this here vessel?” Brusan asked.

  Jasmine shrugged. There’d been no time to check.

  He chuckled. “The Putrid Puffin.” His chuckle turned to a guffaw.

  Despite herself, she grinned. She shook her head in pity for Kristolf and his brother. No doubt the youngest nephew had been playing games with the common tongue again.

  “Hungry?” Brusan asked.

  “Always.”

  Brusan thumped her on the back. It hadn’t been hard, but his eyes widened, and his body stiffened. The stricken look he gave her was almost comical. She gave him a smile to let him know she knew the difference between a friendly thump and a beating.

  He visibly relaxed. Rubbing his neck, he said, “Might go see what Kristolf has left in the stores for us.”

  Jasmine thought about staying on deck but changed her mind. Even though her guilt urged her to stay away, she needed to know how Finn was doing. She climbed down after Brusan and found Finn and Gley still asleep despite the racket Dras was making as he sorted through boxes, bags and other containers. When Brusan questioned him, he said, “Inventory. Kristolf was thorough and generous. We have enough to get to Yactun, but we’ll need to restock to get back.”

  She liked that he thought they had a chance of making the return journey. At least one of them was positive.

  “And the others?” Jasmine asked, looking at Finn wrapped in a blanket, sound asleep.

  “Gley’s fine. She’ll need more sleep, though, to replenish her magic.”

  Jasmine shot a glance at him. It was clear Gley’s magic worked differently; she just couldn’t work out how. If she had her talisman, she might’ve forced Gley to tell her.

  Maybe being away from her Prize was a blessing.

  “Healing takes a lot out of her,” he said. “When she wakes, she’ll have a voracious appetite. It’s why I was checking to see what we’ve got.” He pulled out a loaf of dark-grained bread and a quarter of a wheel of cheese. “We’ve got lots of grain also, a small amount of fruit, and…” he tapped a wide-bellied bottle, “five jugs of Kristolf’s very own mead.”

  Brusan rumbled with a low chuckle. “And what of the lad?”

  His question reminded Jasmine where her thoughts should be. Not with trying to work out Gley’s magic. Finn’s well-being was more important.

  “He’ll be fine. He might sleep for another day though.”

  They divvied up food to break their fast. Comforted by the knowledge that Finn would be all right, Jasmine returned to the main deck to eat. There was no sense staying cramped together down there. She didn’t want to dwell too much on the yearning that grew within her to learn more magic. A very Kahld thing to fight.

  Despite what Durne had said, she wasn’t so sure how strong she could be if she was ever given the choice not to learn magic. Without her Prize, the choice had been made. Kahld had never had that limit on his magic. If he had wanted something, he simply took it.

  As she bit into her cheese and bread, a cold wind sliced through her. Without meaning to, she wielded to guard against that cold, a trick she’d learned from Marcelo. The moment she did, she cooked in a swath of heat. Her skin flushed, her temporary talismans drained, and a horrible weakness shuddered through her.

  She spat out an oath.

  Why Durne thought her power wasn’t a curse, she had no idea.

  Chapter 37

  By the afternoon, the winds had dropped enough that Brusan directed Jasmine to raise another of the Puffin’s sails. It was the last one to unfurl. Despite the rough seas, she went to work and took pleasure in it.

  On the deck below, Dras struggled with a knot. When she was done with the sail, she dropped down and asked if he wanted a lesson. It made sense that he learn.

  Despite his lack of enthusiasm, he listened and watched attentively. As the boat tipped and rolled in the swells, he paled. The Kranston Sea was so rough, and the Puffin so small, even the hardiest of sailors would be feeling the turbulence.

  “You all right?” she asked him, getting ready to share a tip to watch the horizon.

  He stared out across the waves. “I’ve experienced worse.”

  She admired his grit. Unlike Aurelius, Dras would bear his discomfort in silence.

  “While we’re here,” she began, “I’ve a question to ask.”

  “Ask it.”

  “Back in Hefnargatt, the locals seemed to recognize you. They treated you and Gley like… I don’t know. Royalty?”

  “We’re not royalty.”

  Dras’ piercing gaze pinned her. For a second, she forgot how to breathe. The boat crested a wave then slammed hard in the trough. Neither Jasmine nor Dras stumbled, but he went a shade paler.

  “Show me again how to tie that knot,” he said, releasing her from the intensity that had held her.

  Gley, and now Dras, kept their secrets close. The more she thought about it, though, the more she had to accept that some secrets should stay secrets. If a person wanted to keep one, it didn’t mean they couldn’t be trusted. Just because Aurelius and Marcelo couldn’t be trusted, it didn’t mean no one could. She watched Brusan at the wheel. He glanced her way and nodded.

  “What about the sand fly flower? What’s that about?”

  When she finished tying the knot, he took it from her hands and unraveled it. “The sand fly flower is the name my tribe’s … seer gave you.”

  Another wielder with visions, then. “And what did this seer see?”

  He tied the knot perfectly. “Jahdi saw change. He also told me if I found you, I would find Gley.”

  “How do you know her?”

  “It’s a long story I don’t wish to go into.” With deft fingers, he unraveled the knot. “Show me the knot again.”

  Finn climbed from the hatch and stretched. He ran a hand through his ruffled hair and surveyed his surroundings. She showed Dras the knot then left him to his secrets.

  She went to greet Finn.

 
“Have you eaten anything yet?” she asked him, not knowing what else to say. There was still the matter of flinging him off his feet and breaking his arm.

  When they were on the Prize, and life was good and mostly carefree, Finn would’ve wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her. He didn’t. He didn’t even look at her. A frown darkened his features. He blamed her. She was sure of it.

  “Gley,” he said. “She healed me?”

  “Aye.” She was afraid to say anything more.

  Finn shook his head as he rubbed his once-broken arm. “That girl can eat.” He made eye contact with Jasmine, and his face softened.

  His open expression, one of joy and love, gave her the courage to speak up. “I’m sorry—”

  “No need for apologies,” Finn said, cutting her off.

  With one hand on the wheel and his good ear turned toward her, Brusan made a show of watching Dras tying a knot.

  The ship was too small.

  With a light touch on his elbow, she led Finn to the bow where they could speak freely. Before she could say anything, Finn added, “And no need for forgiveness either. It was an accident.”

  She rolled her shoulders and offered him an apologetic smile — at least she hoped it was an apologetic smile. Being sorry for something was new.

  She touched his finger where she’d hidden his ring, his talisman. A band of white skin was the only telltale sign that something had been, and still was, there.

  “Thinking of your Prize?” he asked.

  “Always,” she replied and smiled to dampen the fear that shimmered behind his eyes.

  “How are you managing without it?”

  “I’m fine.” Another lie.

  Finn frowned.

  “I’m fine for now,” she said to clarify. “I’m trying not to wield as much—”

  “You tried that before and failed.”

  She kept her annoyance from showing.

  “I’m sorry,” Finn said. “You are more … disciplined than you used to be. I do have faith in you. I’m just worried.”

  Her annoyance melted like dew under a hot sun. “I’m worried too, but I’m being careful. I’m not completely without a talisman.” She told him about the four objects she’d taken from her Prize and how she’d kept three of them close for the last five, almost six months.