Until All Curses Are Lifted

by Tim Frankovich

As ever, Lord Rajwir looked amazing in his feather headdress and jewels galore.

  “From the land of Mandiata, we welcome Lord Sundinka!”

  Lord Sundinka’s adornments were almost as elaborate as Lord Rajwir’s, though instead of feathers, he wore a tiger pelt across his shoulders.

  “From the land of Arazu, we welcome Lord Enuru!”

  Seri smiled as she looked down at the beloved Lord Enuru. From here, she could see the beginnings of a bald spot on the top of his head. For some reason, that struck her as hilarious.

  “From the land of Kuktarma, we welcome Lord Meluhha!”

  Lord Meluhha was clothed similar to Master Ganak, wrapped in a single wide piece of elaborate cloth trimmed in gold. On his head, he wore the largest crown of any of the Lords, a half-circle that flared outward.

  “Finally, we welcome the claimant to the throne of all Antises, Tezan!”

  Tezan entered and stood alone near the door. Compared to the Lords’ finery, he appeared humble in his simple clothing. Seri gritted her teeth at the audacity. The nerve! False humility from a deceiver.

  Master Korda took his place on Kuktarma’s platform. Master Hain stepped to the center.

  “As the most senior Master of the Conclave, it falls to me to oversee this illustrious moment. Let us begin. Lord Tyrr, if you will?”

  Lord Tyrr stepped to the edge of his platform and raised his hands. He closed his eyes and appeared to concentrate. Seri heard Dravid’s sharp intake of breath before she saw what happened. On the central dais, golden light pooled in the center. It spread outward, growing and changing shape, while remaining a flat surface. The growth was slow, but relentless. About five minutes passed. Lord Tyrr lowered his hands and almost lost his balance before Master Plecu caught him. The dais was now covered by a square-shaped floor of glowing, pulsing liquid light. Each side was easily twelve feet long.

  Lord Varion took his place in turn. As he focused, the light grew straight up from one edge of the bottom square. When he was finished, a twelve-foot wall of light stood to one side of the floor.

  One by one, the other Lords performed their parts. Each one looked absolutely exhausted by the process. Each one added a new side to the cube of light. Lord Meluhha, the last of them, crafted its roof.

  Seri stared down at the cube of light. It seemed so alive, so pristine, so different from the chaos of the vortex she had seen in the Otherworld. As she watched, she imagined she could see stars moving about on the surface of the light. The sheer power radiating from below filled her body and mind. She almost felt like she was floating.

  “Tezan?” Master Hain spoke, the sound of his voice breaking over half an hour of silence. “If you would, please? The Passing awaits the Heart of Fire.”

  Seri tensed. Here it came.

  •••••

  Kishin dropped onto the altar. A cloud of dust puffed outward at his landing. This was more like it. Solid stone construction. It reminded him of home.

  The priest looked up in horror at him. “Who are you? What are–”

  Kishin leaped down, kicking the priest in the face. He went down easily. A ceremonial knife clattered across the floor. For a moment, he thought he saw a shadowy figure standing near, but then it vanished.

  The assassin turned and faced the mother. She was bleeding, but her eyes still held strongly to life. She stared at him in defiance.

  “You’re too late,” she whispered.

  “This is an abomination,” he said. He looked to the balcony and then back to her. “And a waste. Your son will die whether you succeed or not.”

  Aelia lunged at him, but her movements were already weak and she was bound to the altar itself. Kishin eluded her without effort and started up the stairs.

  “Marshal! Marshal!” Aelia called. “The assassin! He’s… here.”

  Kishin tasted bile. This job had gone so far beyond his usual tasks, and now it threatened everything he believed. “We are all cursed!” he shouted. “There is no escape. Curses cannot be lifted.”

  He stepped onto the balcony. The boy stood there on top of a circle made of gold, engraved into the floor. He wore no sword, but Kishin knew that did not make him any less dangerous. Already, the boy’s hands shook. His own sword would be useless against the Eldanim enchantment. In fact, he had taken too long in getting to the target. He would probably be unleashing his k’uh at any moment.

  Marshal lifted his hands and Kishin moved. He leaped up and to his left as the balcony shook. When the ball of his left foot landed on the railing, he vaulted higher into the air. As he passed over Marshal, he backhanded the young man across the face.

  Kishin landed lightly on his feet on the other side of the golden circle. Marshal staggered from his blow, but managed to keep his footing and turn toward the assassin. Interesting. He seemed concerned about staying within the circle.

  Kishin jabbed Marshal in the stomach and followed up with a devastating punch to the right side of his face when he doubled over. Another blow to his back sent the boy to the floor. This was too easy, and exactly the situation he had needed all along. Marshal was weaponless and separated from his protectors with no chance of anyone coming to his aid.

  “Marshal!” Aelia’s voice called, sounding weaker. “You… are… loved.”

  Kishin froze. An irrational fury began to rise within his chest. He kicked viciously at Marshal, who had curled up to protect himself. Let the mother spout her platitudes. He would beat this target to death with nothing but his own hands.

  •••••

  Tezan stepped close to the central dais and took a deep breath. He lifted his hands, closed his eyes and focused. Within the cube of light, another light pulsed into being. Unlike the golden light of the walls, this light shone red, a sparkling, growing heart of red flame. It seemed to fold in on itself over and over, even as it grew, slowly filling the interior of the cube. A few gasps and murmurs came from the assembled Lords and Masters.

  Seri frowned. Volraag had promised to take care of this. Why was Tezan succeeding? Why…?

  Tezan stiffened and almost stumbled. He opened his eyes. From her position, Seri could see something was wrong with him. He seemed to be straining.

  The Heart of Fire had nearly filled the cube of light, but it had stopped growing. As Tezan strained, it seemed to shrink a little. By now, the Lords and Masters had also noticed something was awry. Master Hain took a small step toward Tezan, but did not say anything.

  The Heart of Fire shrank again, then again. Only a slight contraction each time, but clearly visible. Tezan gasped and reacted physically to each change.

  Volraag had come through. Tezan must be losing his connection to the wild magic users. One by one, he was losing their power. One by one. A horrible thought struck Seri. It couldn’t be true. But how could she know? How could…?

  “Is there a problem?” Lord Varioch’s odious voice echoed below.

  “A moment, please, your Lordship,” Master Hain said. He stepped off Arazu’s platform and approached Tezan.

  Seri pulled away from the opening. She had to know. It couldn’t be. She turned to the southwest, as near as she could tell, closed her eyes and concentrated. “Come on, come on,” she whispered.

  She opened her eyes and two worlds filled her vision. She ignored the Heart of Fire overlaid onto the vortex below. Instead, she focused everything she had to the southwest, toward the ship. She couldn’t see it in either world, of course, but maybe she could sense those on board? Seri focused her magic senses to the fullest she had ever tried. She grabbed multiple beams of light and channeled them within herself to boost her own power, not even realizing what she had done.

  There. She could see the wild magic users, or at least sense them in her mind, like dozens of tiny little lights of power, all grouped together.

  And then one went out. It vanished completely. Another one followed it. Then two more.

  “No, no, no, no, no!” Seri whispered.

  Dravid scooted up next to her. “W
hat is it? What’s happening?”

  “He’s killing them!” she sobbed. “He’s killing all of them!”

  “Killing who? What are you talking about? What–” Dravid gasped.

  Seri broke away from her senses and looked down again. Tezan had fallen to his knees, but still held his hands out. The Heart was shrinking rapidly now.

  The lights from the ship continued to go out, one by one. Seri looked at Dravid and felt a burden of horror that overwhelmed everything else. It was her fault. She had told Volraag, and now they were dying. And she could do nothing about it.

  “Tezan? What is wrong?” Master Hain asked.

  Tezan collapsed, dropping his hands. Seri could hear his words echoing her own thoughts. “No, no, no, no. They can’t. I didn’t want… I failed…”

  •••••

  A second kick slammed into Marshal’s side. The pain shocked him into motion. He pulled Volraag’s dagger out, rolled over, and plunged it into the assassin’s thigh. He received barely a grunt in response.

  “Marshal…” He could hear Aelia, but couldn’t see her from the floor. How had this happened? Talinir and Victor were fighting the eidola. How had one gotten inside, and why would it hurt Aelia? He needed to get to her!

  Still holding on to the dagger’s hilt, he tried channeling some of his power through it. The assassin shouted in surprise and fell back, grabbing at his thigh.

  “You… are… valuable…”

  Marshal scrambled to the railing, pulled himself up and looked down. Aelia was looking up at him. Blood pooled on the floor around her. She looked so frail and weak. But her gaze radiated love and determination.

  Marshal felt something welling up inside his chest. He opened his mouth.

  A looped rope flipped over his head and down to his neck. Before he could react, he was yanked backward and felt the rope tighten rapidly. He tried to grab it, but it was too tight already. He struggled for air.

  “Nice trick with the dagger,” the assassin’s voice whispered in his ear. “Let’s see you magic your way out of this.”

  Marshal tried to force his fingers beneath the rope. Failing that, he flailed wildly at the killer behind him. His eyes darted down for a final look at Aelia, and then the killer dragged him back from the railing. The sun was in his eyes again, but even that began to dim.

  “Marshal…” Her voice was barely audible now.

  Something, something was building inside him. It wasn’t only his power, though he felt that as well. Something else was happening. It began somewhere deep inside his chest and pushed its way up slowly beneath his ribcage, passing his heart whose pounding seemed louder than he had ever known.

  “You… have…”

  Bright spots competed with blackness dancing before his eyes. The pain and pressure around his neck competed with the lack of air for his focus. In desperation, he stretched his arms out in front of him, trying to ignore the pain. He pushed it away, along with whatever was growing inside him, focusing on one simple thought, one final act to free himself. He closed his hands into fists.

  “A… pur…”

  A purpose! He had a purpose! Those were her words, the words he had heard so many times from her wonderful voice, the voice that was even now failing.

  “What? What is this?” The assassin’s voice sounded bewildered all of a sudden. The rope loosened ever so slightly.

  Marshal brought both arms back as hard as he could, elbows bent to slam into the assassin behind him. At the same time, he released his power, not through his closed fists, but through his elbows.

  His power threw the assassin back across the balcony and slammed him into the stone wall. The rope fell away from Marshal’s neck and he lunged forward to the balcony. The strange feeling had reached his neck and was pushing further up now.

  From his tortured throat, from vocal cords that had never once vibrated in his life, from lips that had never uttered a sound since birth, from deep within his soul, the boy from Drusa’s Crossing screamed his first word, a first word no different from that of most other children, cried out not in imitation or joy but in agony and terror yet no less full of love.

  “Mama!”

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX

  THE LAST OF the tiny lights went out. The Heart of Fire faded away and vanished completely. Silence reigned over the Inner Sanctum, broken only by the sobbing of one man, a false King who had been revealed in the cruelest way possible.

  “What has happened?” Lord Rajwir asked at last.

  “The so-called King is a fake!” Lord Varion roared. “Exactly as we should have expected from Rasna!”

  “Vetis take me! I know nothing more than you do!” Lord Tyrr shouted.

  “My Lords!” Master Korda’s voice boomed over them all. “Please. As always, we must let the matrices return to the land for two hours before they return to you. I urge you all to go to your rooms and rest. When the Passing is complete, we will discuss this–”

  A strange wave of power washed over the entire room. Seri sat up and gasped. Unleashed magic had struck her, and apparently everyone else. Below, the Lords and Masters all exclaimed in consternation. Something unexpected had happened. Seri felt as if the power had communicated something, as if there were information in it. But she couldn’t comprehend what it meant.

  “I felt all my bones shake!” Dravid said. “What was that?”

  Seri looked down into the Inner Sanctum again. The Lords stood looking around in confusion. The Masters, however, had all fallen to their knees. They seemed much more shaken by the wave of power than they had been by Tezan’s exposure.

  “It… can’t be!” Master Tzoyet said.

  “We all felt it,” Master Hain said. “All of you.”

  “What was that? And why does it matter?” Lord Varion growled. He pointed at Tezan, who still lay weeping on the floor. “We should deal with that one!”

  Master Korda climbed to his feet shakily. He stared at the cube of light. “A curse has been lifted,” he said. Seri inhaled sharply. That’s what the wave of power had been trying to communicate. Somehow, she knew Master Korda was right.

  “That’s preposterous,” Lord Meluhha said, but his voice was filled with uncertainty.

  “Our world has just changed,” Master Hain said, still on his knees. “Everything has changed.”

  “What are you talking about?” Lord Varion said.

  “Please. Please return to your rooms,” Master Korda said. “We will discuss what to do when the Passing is complete.”

  “What about him?” Lord Tyrr pointed at Tezan. Seri wanted to snarl.

  “I will have him locked in another room to await our discussions,” Master Korda said. “We will take care of him.”

  More arguing ensued, but eventually the Lords all agreed to return to their rooms. They were all exhausted, after all. The Passing took away their power, and when that power departed, they were overwhelmed with the loss of it and their own Bindings toward home.

  After the Lords left and a pair of apprentices escorted Tezan out, the Masters gathered together. Seri and Dravid couldn’t hear all of their agitated discussion. Their attention focused not on the false King, but on what had happened next. “The end of all curses is near!” Master Ganak’s voice rose loudly above the others. “It’s the prophecy of Aharu!” “Don’t be ridiculous!” snapped Master Tzoyet. Their words overlapped and grew difficult to hear again.

  Seri, however, had only one thing on her mind. She turned to Dravid.

  “Guide me to the vent overlooking Lord Varion’s chambers!”

  •••••

  Marshal vaulted over the railing, heedless of the gold circle, the assassin, or the drop below him. He landed hard but somehow kept his footing. He stumbled forward and stopped in front of his mother.

  Though blood still dripped onto the floor, she was motionless. Her head and arms hung lifeless. The only thing holding her up was a rope that bound her to the altar. Marshal fumbled with the knot until it finally came
loose. He caught Aelia and lowered her gently to the floor.

  “Mama.” Sounds came from his lips again. It felt so strange. How many thousands of times had he opened his mouth wanting to speak to her and nothing came out? Yet now her name slipped easily off his tongue. The curse was lifted.

  “Mama.” It was the name she had always used to refer to herself throughout his childhood. The only name by which he had known her in his mind. When he grew old enough to understand, he realized her name was Aelia, but that was the name for other people. For him, her name was and always would be Mama.

  As if it came from far away, he heard a yell and the sounds of swords clashing. But his mind failed to grasp what it meant.

  He reached out a trembling hand to touch Aelia’s face. He lifted a lock of hair and brushed it to the side.

  Why? He wasn’t worth this. Speaking. Not speaking. What difference did it make? How could she do this? For him? Even as his mind asked the questions, his heart screamed the answers. It was her love, her never-ending, unconditional love.

  “You… are loved,” he said with effort, his tongue stumbling over the “l” sound. Every syllable was familiar to his brain, but completely new to his lips.

  All his previous thoughts and anger toward his mother seemed so foolish now. How could he have ever distrusted her? What was wrong with him that he would think that way? She had always, always been thinking of him.

  Marshal had no concept of how much time passed while he sat beside his mother. Occasionally the sounds of conflict outside intruded on his thoughts, but he paid no attention. Assassin. Eidolon. Neither mattered. Only his mother.

  •••••

  Dravid led Seri through the passages, but he kept glancing back at her, clearly shaken by what had happened. “What was that?” he asked as he crawled. “What happened with Tezan? You know something, don’t you? Why were you crying?”

  “He’s not the real King,” Seri said. “I found out two nights ago. I told someone that I believed would help reveal him, but, but… he did something else. Something horrible.”