Until All Curses Are Lifted

by Tim Frankovich

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  THE ASSASSIN STOOD at the tree line, blades in both hands. He looked exactly as he had at the river; the fall had not affected him.

  “You again?” Victor got to his feet, still holding his flail, but he winced in the process.

  Aelia’s eyes narrowed and grew dark. “This is the assassin?” she asked. When Victor nodded, she reached out and slapped Talinir.

  The killer took two steps forward. “The warden took three starshine drops. He will not be able to help you now.” The assassin’s hood hung down again, revealing his decaying face. “I am here for the mute one. You others may go free, providing you tell me your curse.”

  “I’m starting to think you’re my curse,” Victor said. He stepped over Talinir and stood beside Marshal.

  “No,” the assassin said. “You have already told me your curse. You are bound to this one, and when I kill him, the Binding will torment you.”

  Marshal heard a “sssh” sound and glanced back. Aelia had drawn Talinir’s sword. She stood and stepped over the entranced warden. Victor made to follow her, but she put out a hand and stopped him. She walked out alone to face the assassin.

  The wind had picked up and whipped Aelia’s dirty blonde hair in a flurry to the side of her head. She stopped, unconcerned, the strange sword held at an angle to her side. The assassin cocked his head with what seemed a curious expression.

  “You wish to know my curse, assassin?” Aelia’s words fell like heavy stones in the open air. “I am Aelia, daughter of Evander. I watched my father betrayed by his best friend, exiled, chased across hundreds of miles, and murdered for protecting me. I have been destitute, hunted, harassed, oppressed, mocked, and raped. You might call any of these things curses. I do not. They shaped me into the woman and mother I am today.

  “Behind me stands a young man who is the greatest treasure and blessing of my life. You seek to take that from me. I tell you that you will have to kill me first.” She lifted the sword and pointed it toward Kishin. “Do your worst.”

  Silence ruled the plains. Victor leaned toward Marshal and whispered, “I don’t know about him, but your mother scares me!”

  Marshal gave a slight nod. He had seen Aelia stand up for herself many times, but never with this intensity.

  “So be it,” the assassin said. He inclined his head in a bow, then charged forward, his thin blades held out to either side.

  Aelia dropped back into a defensive stance, one leg back, the sword held parallel to the ground and across her body.

  Right before he reached her, Aelia’s opponent swept both blades across himself, then scissored them back, aiming for her outstretched front leg. Unmoved, she deflected them both with a downward swing of Talinir’s sword. The clash of metal resounded across the plains, beginning their duel. The assassin attacked, Aelia deflected or dodged, over and over. They danced back and forth, neither showing any clear emotion. As before, Talinir’s sword left shimmering air in its wake with each of Aelia’s swings.

  The assassin drew back a few steps. Aelia did not follow, seeming content to continue her defensive posture.

  “Your skill is impressive and unexpected,” he acknowledged. “Unless I am mistaken, you appear to have trained with Sakura, though I fail to see how that is possible. You are not one of the Holcan.”

  “I told you my father’s best friend betrayed him,” Aelia said. “Before that, he trained me well.”

  The assassin’s hairless eyebrows arched, clearly impressed. He launched another attack. Using his twin blades to his advantage, he slipped past Aelia’s defenses and scored a shallow gash across her left thigh. He paused again.

  “The problem with Sakura’s techniques is that they’re almost all defensive,” he said. “You may hold me off for a while, but you only delay the inevitable. You cannot stop me.”

  Marshal was tired, tired of being helpless, tired of letting others fight for him. He started forward, only to have Victor grab his shoulder.

  “Are you crazy?” Victor’s face showed what he thought the answer to that question might be. “I tried to stop him last time and couldn’t. You don’t even have a weapon!”

  Marshal showed him Aelia’s short sword.

  “Do you even know how to use that? Come on, Marshal. He’s a warrior and we’re not!”

  Marshal scowled at Victor. For years, Aelia had given him some basic instructions with the sword, though of course he had never shown anyone until now.

  Victor let him go. “All right. Let’s come at him from either side, then. Might give him something else to think about, at least.”

  While Victor started moving around to Aelia’s right, Marshal ran around to her left. Victor began swinging his flail in a wide loop, limiting the assassin’s movement in that direction. Marshal couldn’t do the same with his sword, but he moved closer, staying in one of Aelia’s defensive stances. He clenched his other fist, trying to focus some of the vibratory power into it. Maybe he could get a hand on the assassin and release the magic directly against him.

  Aelia noticed their actions. “I appreciate the thought, boys,” she called, “but–”

  “But this was the most foolish choice you could make,” the assassin interrupted. He feinted at Aelia, forcing her to throw up a defense, then whirled toward Victor.

  Marshal took another step forward with the enemy’s back toward him. The leper stabbed out toward Victor, who dodged back instinctively. The assassin flipped backwards, rolled, spun, and stabbed. The blade in his left hand pierced Marshal’s chest.

  “You brought my target toward me.”

  Aelia screamed and lunged forward. Victor’s face paled and he almost dropped the flail.

  Marshal looked down at the long, thin blade that had penetrated his sternum. So that’s what it felt like. Not much different from getting punched. Then the assassin ripped the blade out and dodged back from Aelia’s furious assault. As the blood spurted out, the pain erupted in Marshal’s chest.

  He dropped the sword and grabbed at his chest with both hands. He wasn’t conscious of falling to his knees, or anything else that happened around him. Aelia had always told him the most important thing to do was stop the bleeding, but the blood forced its way around his hands and fingers, running down his chest, dripping to the ground.

  Was this dying? Victor screamed something, and part of his brain considered what would happen to the other boy when the Binding broke, unfulfilled. At least Aelia would be spared any more pain and suffering. Volraag would get what he wanted. A lot of good this power would do him; it couldn’t even… even…

  Marshal slumped to the ground, rolling on to his back. Above him, the sun peeked out through the clouds. It must be nearly noon.

  The ground rumbled beneath him. His power? No. Something else. The pain overwhelmed his mind and he faded into darkness.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  SERI HAD JUST entered Master Hain’s office when the earth began to shake again. It started with a mild tremor. The stones of the citadel shook. Master Hain’s desk vibrated and a pile of papers slid off.

  “Again? Well, that wasn’t too–”

  A second tremor struck, much stronger than the first, cutting his words off. Both of them struggled to keep their feet as everything around them shook. In the distance, Seri could hear the crash of items small and large falling in different rooms.

  “Out!” Master Hain barked. “Get out of the citadel!”

  Seri wasted no time in reacting. She threw open the door and raced down the hallway. Familiar now, she turned several corners and descended one wide staircase before finding the way out into the courtyard. Dozens of people poured out from the citadel’s doors, with no regard to rank or propriety, from the Masters themselves down to the lowest servants.

  Another tremble, stronger than ever, knocked most of them off their feet. Most stayed down, some crying out to Theon, others curling up and closing their eyes. The shaking lasted at least a full minute, thought it seemed much longe
r. A few rocks fell from the exterior wall.

  Then it stopped. The cries faded.

  Seri cautiously got to her feet. She noticed Curasir first. The Eldani stood unmoved a few feet away from everyone else. His gaze focused toward the center of the island. What did he see in the Otherworld? Did it shake, too?

  The fourth tremor erupted, dwarfing the previous tremors with its power, dwarfing even the quake from the day of Seri’s arrival at Zes Sivas. She fell again, landing on the stone walkway and tearing her robe around one knee.

  The earth split. A narrow crack started a few feet away, next to a kitchen worker who rolled away in terror. The crack widened and lengthened rapidly, running across the courtyard and reaching from the citadel itself to the outer wall.

  More screams filled the air. Seri scrambled back away from the crack, as did everyone else. But the crack divided, sending a spur that seemed almost to pursue her. Despite her best efforts, she found herself looking down into the earth. She braced herself, sure that it would continue to widen and she would fall, swallowed up by dirt and rocks. The thought horrified her beyond any fear she had ever imagined.

  The trembling ended with a jerk. The crack stopped. A final minor tremor shook everything for a few seconds. And then it was over.

  Seri stared down the crack and breathed a sigh of relief. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly in and out, calming herself. She opened her eyes.

  The crack no longer descended into the ground. Instead, it contained flat earth like everything around it, but not the same at all. The bright sunlight of midday didn’t touch the earth within the crack. Instead, it looked dark and dim, lit by another type of light she couldn’t identify.

  She looked up. The air above the cracks appeared the same. “It’s a crack in the world itself,” she whispered to herself. She had no doubt she could see Curasir’s Otherworld bleeding through. Was everyone else seeing the same thing? Her eyes darted from person to person.

  People began to recover, helping one another up, and gathering in small groups to discuss the experience. Some stared at the cracks, or down inside them, but no one looked up. They could not see the Otherworld like she did.

  Jamana spied her and rushed to her side. “Are you hurt?” he cried.

  Seri shook her head and started to get up. Jamana took hold of her arm, letting her lean on him. She looked back at the cracks in the world. What did it mean? Would they stay like that? And what if–

  Something moved in the Otherworld.

  With only the narrow crack showing, she couldn’t identify the thing, but it looked much larger than a human. Jamana said something, but she couldn’t hear him. She kept her focus on the moving thing. It was like looking at an oddly-shaped slice of a moving animal. She caught a glimpse of the skin, covered in large hexagonal scales with occasional rough protuberances. As it moved by, she also noticed deep creases and a heavy fold in the skin itself. The creature looked enormous, far larger than the largest cattle she had ever seen.

  Were any of the other cracks near enough to show more of the creature? Seri turned, but in that instant, the vision ended. Her view of the Otherworld vanished, leaving the cracks as nothing more than cracks in the earth. And walls.

  She looked around again. Curasir still stood in the same place, but instead of looking toward the center, he now gazed directly at her. Wait. It wasn’t at her. Seri tilted her head and tried to trace Curasir’s stare. Was he? Of course. He was staring at the creature. It lived in the Otherworld and the Eldani could see it with his left eye.

  “We have to find him!” Jamana’s voice broke in.

  Seri shook herself. “What?”

  “Dravid!”

  •••••

  Jamana led the way, running as fast as his robes would allow. Seri followed. They hurried around the same course they had taken on the day they found Master Simmar, rounding between the citadels and to the interior door.

  The door hung off its hinges, and Jamana pulled it out of their way. He and Seri stepped over a few chunks of debris and entered the hallway. The oil lamps that usually lit the way had all fallen from their stands. Most had shattered on impact. A few flames remained on the ground, lapping up the spilled oil.

  Heedless of the threat to the hem of his robe, Jamana raced down the hall and turned into the antechamber with the secret entrance. The passageway’s door had fallen. Rubble covered the floor, but the tunnel looked clear.

  “Dravid!” Jamana yelled down the tunnel.

  Seri reached for the tunnel. “Boost me!” she told Jamana. He complied and she started down the tunnel. Despite the damage at the opening, it appeared clear.

  “Wait.”

  Seri looked back. Jamana took a deep breath and climbed into the passage himself. She nodded and turned back. The passageways seemed darker than before. Some of the slits that let the light in must have been blocked.

  Working from the memory of her one previous visit, Seri tried to lead the way. She called Dravid’s name several times, but received no answer. She hesitated at one intersection. Was it right here or at the next turn?

  “I can’t… I can’t…” Jamana’s low muttering made her turn back to look. He clutched his head, eyes closed. “I can’t do it.”

  “Wait here,” Seri said. “I’ll go on ahead and check.”

  She scrambled through the tunnel as fast as she could. Was that a voice? She stopped and waited. Sure enough. A muted voice called out, but she couldn’t make out any words.

  “I think I hear him!” she called back to Jamana.

  Without waiting for a response, she rushed forward. This must be the right turn. She turned right and stopped. The passage had caved in. Rocky debris of all sizes filled the entire way ahead. A tiny spark of light came through the top, shining through the dust that hung in the air.

  “Help.” She had no doubt of it this time. Dravid’s voice came from somewhere beyond this barrier.

  “Jamana! I need you!” She looked back down the passage where he still lay, holding his head. “The way is blocked and Dravid is calling for help!”

  He lifted his head and opened his eyes. With a pained look, he began moving forward, slowly but surely.

  Seri turned back to the blockage and began pulling chunks of rock out of the way. Dust rained down around, making her cough. In a few minutes, Jamana came up behind her. She handed him the rocks so that he could shove them down the other passage. As they worked, the opening at the top grew larger, letting more sunlight in. Jamana muttered in a low voice. Seri couldn’t tell if he was complaining or motivating himself.

  After several minutes of work, the opening had grown large enough that Seri thought she could get through. She coughed again and grabbed on to the edge of the broken tunnel above. It was an awkward position, but she managed to pull herself up high enough that her head extended out into the open air.

  She looked out over the extension of the Citadel of Mages. All around her, the massive pillars rose up, holding the extension from the Citadel of Kings, the throne room itself. To her horror, Seri saw that one of the actual pillars had toppled and shattered a large section of the roof here, caving in a lengthy portion of the tunnels.

  “Seri, can you get out? You’re blocking the light!” Jamana’s voice seemed to come from far away, muffled as it was by the stone.

  She awkwardly pulled one arm and then the other out of the tunnel. With an effort, she scrambled out completely. She stood with care, testing the stability and brushing dust from her robe. Jamana’s face appeared below, smeared with dirt and grime.

  “One of the pillars has fallen,” she told him. “I’ll see if I can find Dravid.” He had to be here somewhere. She had heard him!

  She followed the ruins of the tunnel, stepping carefully and watching for places where the roof might still cave in. Only a few feet away, a large section of the roof had caved in near the edge. It looked like the pillar had fallen there, shattered the roof, and then rolled to the side.

  “Over her
e.” Dravid’s weak voice came from the caved-in section.

  Seri made her way to a solid spot that allowed her to look down into the ruins. Dravid lay in what was left of his hidden bedroom, surrounded by fallen rubble and shattered glass. A large chunk of stone covered much of the left side of his body, pinning him in place. Seri couldn’t see his leg at all.

  “Good to see you,” Dravid said, trying to smile. His face looked wrong, as if it had been bled of some of its rich color. It had only been a few minutes since the quake. Whatever damage the stone had done to him must have been significant for him to look that bad already.

  “Hold on!” Seri said. “Let me help Jamana get here!”

  She picked her way back to the tunnel opening. Jamana had already made it much larger, but he still couldn’t quite squeeze out. Seri took hold of a larger rock and pulled as Jamana pushed from below. With that piece out of the way, they shoved enough of the remaining debris to either side, allowing Jamana to force his way out. Both his sleeves were torn in multiple places. He ripped them off at the seams as he got to his feet and looked around.

  “Over here.” Seri led him toward Dravid, but Jamana pushed on ahead. When he saw his friend, he impulsively jumped down into the rubble. It shifted under his weight and came to a stop.

  “Are you crazy?” Seri shouted. “You could have brought more down on top of him!”

  “I’m okay,” Dravid said.

  “You are not,” Jamana said. “Stop trying to talk.” He threw a head-sized chunk of rock out of the way and stepped up next to the large piece that pinned Dravid. He took hold of it, braced his legs, and heaved. His muscles strained. Sweat erupted across his shaved head. The stone shifted imperceptibly.

  “Seri-Belit!” he called. “I need you!”

  “As if I can do more than those muscles,” she whispered to herself. She found an edge that looked solid enough, sat, and swung her legs over the side. She slid over and landed awkwardly next to Jamana. She looked down and chuckled. She had landed between two larger rocks and stood on Dravid’s mattress.