Cursed Witch

by September Stone

  I slip my fingers into my pocket, touching the locating charm and murmuring the incantation. Immediately, the charm’s pull urges me forward. There’s no doubt we’re heading in the right direction. I can only hope we’re not walking headlong into a trap.

  When the tunnel finally begins to rise before terminating at a stone staircase, my heart starts pumping double-time. The locating charm sends thrum after thrum of energy into my body, the magical equivalent of screaming, “It’s here!”

  Poe edges to the front of our group and climbs as many stairs as he can before the trap door impedes his movements. Bracing his hands against the hatch, he pushes upward, the muscles in his arms bulging and straining. He grunts softly with effort, but the door doesn’t budge.

  “Let me help,” Taj says.

  Poe holds up a hand. “No. If you put that fire out, we’re in total darkness. You hold that. Everyone else, get up here.”

  Calder urges me and Silas to climb up ahead of him, and once the three of us are in place around Poe, he counts down and we begin to push. I step up two more stairs and brace my back against the wood, forcing upward with my legs, but still nothing happens.

  “Do you think there’s something in the way?” Silas asks once it’s clear we won’t be budging this thing. “Maybe an altar or something?”

  “Or a lock?” I suggest. I glance at Calder. I’m not entirely sure how his telekinesis works, and I know he had difficulty with simple tasks when we were younger, but since we’ve been back together he’s done some impressive things. “Is that something you can take care of?”

  Calder’s brow furrows. “I’m… I mean, I don’t…” His eyes flicker to Taj, Poe, and Silas before returning to me. “I’ve never done something like that before. Any time I’ve managed to open a lock, I’ve known it was there. I studied the mechanism beforehand. This…”

  “Focus.” I slip my hand into his and squeeze it. “You’ve got this.”

  Calder offers a half smile, returning pressure in my fingers. Exhaling, he pushes his free hand flat against the door above our heads, concentration furrowing his brow. “There’s nothing sitting on top of it… There’s a lever attached to a crank… and a latch. If I can just…”

  A few seconds pass before the soft scrape of metal on metal cuts through the air. Calder nods at Poe, and when Poe pushes on the door again, it opens easily.

  “Nice job, Blondy,” Poe says, clasping Calder’s shoulder before ascending the remaining stairs.

  Calder pulls me closer and presses a kiss to my lips. “All due to our girl.”

  Pleasure flutters low in my belly at his words. Our girl. The thought makes me shiver with anticipation. My mind begins spinning with images of all the label entails, but I push back the fantasies. Now isn’t the time to think about what spending my nights with three men might look like. First, we need the staff.

  The sweet, earthy scent of frankincense fills my nostrils before I’ve made it up the rest of the stairs. A faint amber glow fills the room, which is chilly and sparse, the only furnishings a series of stone benches encircling a raised dais. In the center of the dais is a scepter about the length of my forearm carved with ornate vines spiraling up the sides and cradling a large orb of clear quartz.

  “The Staff of Rahn,” I whisper. “It’s smaller than I expected.”

  Silas steps beside me, tilting his head to the side. “Yeah. Much more magic wand than walking stick.”

  Poe weaves his way between benches. “Let’s grab this thing and get out of here before any of the high priests show up.” He springs onto the dais with a graceful, leonine leap, and his fingers close around the polished shaft of the scepter.

  In a flash, the amber light filling the room turns blood red, and a loud gong echoes from somewhere high overhead.

  Poe leaps off the platform. “Run!”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Bryn

  “An alarm? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Poe snarls as we hurtle down the stairs and back into the tunnel.

  At some point, Taj let his fireball go out, and blackness stretches out ahead of me. How long before the Order is on our heels? Will they storm the sanctum, or will there be a battalion waiting for us on the other side of this tunnel? My only hope is that the majority of the people here have no idea what that gong is for and that the confusion buys us enough time to escape.

  Feet scuffle against the ground and Silas lets out a stifled grunt. “A little light would be nice!” In the faint red glow coming from the sanctum, I can just make out Silas’ figure as he pushes himself back to his feet.

  “Yeah, of course,” Taj says, but the tightness in his voice makes me wonder if this is the first time that fact has occurred to him. Moments later, a flame the size of a softball floats above his palm, casting just enough light to guide our way.

  Although I’m sure I could run faster, I keep pace with the guys. Poe and Taj especially seem to be having trouble running while stooped.

  I try to keep my breathing even as we go, eyes scanning the walls for any hint of how much farther until we reach the end of the tunnel. But no clues present themselves; the walls are uniform gray stone without markings of any kind.

  After what feels like an eternity, we reach the stone staircase that will lead us into the forest. Poe moves to the head of the group, handing the staff to Calder before pressing his hands to the trapdoor.

  “What do we do if someone’s out there?” I ask.

  Poe catches my gaze and holds it. “We fight like hell.”

  With a fierce growl, Poe shoves open the door and leaps out into the woods above. He spins in a tight circle before glancing back down into the hole. “It’s all clear.”

  But before relief can take root inside me, a high hiss cuts through the air. Poe drops in a blur and I catch sight of a dark line slicing through the void where he had been standing a split second earlier.

  An arrow.

  “Stay close to me!” Calder shouts. Before I can ask why, the air around us seems to thicken and shimmer as he creates a protective bubble over the four of us. As soon as we’re up the stairs, it expands to include Poe’s still-prostrate form. I whisper a thanks to whatever spirits might be listening for the acute hearing and shifter speed that kept him from being hit.

  “Where are they?” I ask, scanning the trees.

  “Doesn’t matter. Let’s get out of here,” Silas insists.

  I’m inclined to agree, and as soon as Poe is on his feet, our group starts into the forest, following the same trajectory as the arrow. Another volley arcs through the air, but the projectiles all bounce harmlessly off Calder’s bubble of protection.

  Twigs snap and crack as we charge into the forest, but another sound rises up, making the air on the back of my neck stand on end.

  Chanting.

  Calder lurches sideways, his protective bubble shattering. He stumbles again as if being pulled by some invisible string.

  Another volley of arrows spray around us. Poe leaps, knocking both Taj and me to the ground to keep us from being hit.

  “Calder, what are you doing?” Silas hisses from his spot behind a tree.

  Calder continues to stumble. The only thing about him that seems unaffected are the hands grasping the staff. “I don’t know. It’s like it’s pulling me…”

  “The chanting,” I say. “Maybe they’re calling it back to them?”

  Poe stands, pulling back his shoulders and glaring toward the source of the arrows. “To hell with that.”

  I blink and Poe is gone, streaking headlong into the fray.

  “Dammit,” Silas curses, taking off after him. As he runs, a cold wind whips through the trees.

  “I’ll help Calder,” Taj calls, rushing toward his friend. “No use setting the forest on fire when we’re in it.”

  I hesitate. I’m not sure what’s happening with the staff or whether Calder and Taj can rein it in, but I also have no idea how many people Silas and Poe are up against.

  As Ta
j tackles Calder to the ground and the two fight to pin the staff, I steel myself and run after Poe and Silas.

  I call on the spark of magic inside me as I go, pulling it to the surface and urging it to grow until it fills every corner of my being.

  When arrows whiz toward me, I send magic out into the ground and nearby tree limbs bend down to swat the projectiles out of the air. Chanting intensifies, raising in volume as three hooded figures emerge from the bushes ahead of me.

  Instinct kicks in. All the time I spent training with Poe and Kari prepared me for an attack, and even though I’ve never taken on three people at once, when I study their body language I can determine who plans to make the first move.

  I use the first man’s momentum against him when he rushes me, grabbing his shoulder and propelling him into the woman behind me. The second man throws a punch, but I dodge it and land a solid kick on the side of his knee, sending him to the ground.

  The chanting increases in volume again, and while I can’t see any of the people speaking the invocation, their voices echo in my head. Before the first attacker can disentangle himself from the woman, a blinding flash lights up the darkening forest as bright as midday.

  “Protect the staff, my faithful ones,” booms a deep voice. “Pull it from the hands of the unclean and return it to its rightful place. Do not let them derail your honorable mission!”

  My stomach drops at the words. “Who the hell is that?”

  “The great mage Rahn,” snaps the female attacker. “You’re not leaving with his staff. You heard him. It belongs to us.”

  She leaps for me, her movements fast and graceful like Poe’s. I try to dodge her attack, but she’s too quick. Air rushes from my lungs and stars pop in front of my eyes when she slams me into the ground. “You can’t stop what is to come!” she screams, landing a punch across my jaw. “Our ascension and his return is at hand! No one can stop him. Not you—and not Elowen!”

  I buck my hips, trying to dislodge her, but my only reward is another punch in the face. The impact sends a searing pain through my jaw. My stomach heaves and I swallow down the bile that threatens to rise.

  The magic inside me leaks out into the surrounding earth and I feel the tendrils unfurling before they begin creeping up the woman’s body. They circle her torso and slither around her arms, pulling her up just far enough to allow me to squeeze out from beneath her.

  The woman’s male companions lunge for me, but they won’t make it. Even as I race toward the source of the light, I can feel as twin holes open in the forest floor at their feet. Their shouts of surprise cut over the chanting for an instant before they’re swallowed by the chasms.

  The light shining out of the staff is too painful to look at. I shield my eyes as I edge toward the last spot I remember seeing Calder and Taj.

  “Pretender!” the voice booms as I draw near. “Return me to my loyal ones and I will give you what you want.”

  My teeth rattle as he speaks, and my stomach writhes like it’s filled with live snakes. “I don’t want anything from you.”

  “A curse broken. Five lives restored,” the voice says. “Return the staff and it’s yours.”

  The Order already tried to break our curse and Calder and Taj paid dearly for their attempt. But if the great Rahn himself were to intervene, surely things would go differently.

  A shiver courses through my body. Without a shadow of a doubt, I know that thought didn’t come from my mind. I spent too many years in the service of a siren not to recognize when someone’s trying to hijack my mind. Except whoever’s talking is no siren. I may not have been able to disobey when Mona used her song, but I’ve grown strong enough not to be taken by this guy.

  Squinting, I peer into the white light. Back at Elowen’s cabin, I read many things about Rahn, but none of those accounts involved him attempting to control a person’s thoughts. My eyes water and burn as I raise them toward the center of the pure white pillar that emanates from the quartz crystal at the tip of the staff. Just when I’m sure it’s impossible to see anything through the glare, I glimpse a face within the light.

  A memory floats to the surface of my consciousness—a portrait in one of Elowen’s books. Just like the drawing of Elowen herself, the artistic rendering of this man isn’t spot on. He’s older now, his hair lank and white and his neck and jaw thicker than they once were, but there’s no doubt in my mind who the man behind the voice is.

  The only problem is the man isn’t Rahn. It’s Casek—the mage who was forced into the Darklands by Elowen.

  His eyes blaze as they catch mine, and his face twists into a mask of rage.

  “Kill them, my faithful ones!”

  Chapter Thirty

  Bryn

  Casek’s order rings through the forest, drowning out even the chanting voices for a few seconds.

  And then the woods explode with savage shouts and blood-curdling screams as dark-robed priests and acolytes emerge from seemingly everywhere at once.

  Half a dozen figures streak toward Taj and Calder, who are white-knuckled and red-faced as they attempt to keep the staff from flying off toward the people repeating the incantation. I call on the magic inside me and send along my instructions to the plants encircling my men. Roots and vines shoot out of the ground, twisting and twining until Taj and Calder disappear behind a dome of vegetation. The light from the staff is cut off, but Casek’s voice continues to urge on his followers.

  “Stop!” I dodge one woman’s punch and lift a root in the path of another fighter, sending him flying when his foot catches. “He’s not who you think he is! The voice in that staff does belong to a mage, but it’s not Rahn. You’re taking orders from Casek!”

  My words do nothing to curb the onslaught. Five more fighters emerge from the trees, and I know no amount of training has prepared me to fight nine at once. Pushing my magic out through the soles of my feet, I steady myself for what’s coming. Still, when the ground rumbles around me and the plot I stand on rises up above the heads of the incoming Order members, I nearly lose my balance.

  “He’s been lying to you!” I shout as two archers take aim. “Your Order used to be devoted to study and bettering the world for all people. You were never meant to be warriors! Ask yourselves, when did that change?”

  The archers standing below me lower their bows and turn to each other, doubt flashing in their eyes.

  Some of the vines protecting Calder and Taj snap, and small shafts of light escape.

  “She’s trying to twist our minds!” yells a man to my right. “She wants the staff for herself. She’ll use it for evil and we’ll never bring peace like Rahn promised!”

  I ball my fists. “It’s not Rahn you’re taking orders from!”

  “She lies!”

  A handful of other voices shout out their agreement.

  “No. She’s telling the truth.”

  My heart swells at the new voice rising above the din. When Kari steps out from between two trees, she wears a simple white shirt and rough woven brown pants instead of her usual tunic dress and robe, but she still exudes the same warmth as she did the day we met.

  “I’m one of you,” Kari continues. “You’ve trusted my judgments time and again. Trust me now.” She points at the light streaming from Taj and Calder’s protective cocoon. “I can feel the emotions of the man speaking through that staff, and they’re not in line with our goals. He won’t lead us to ascension; he’ll plunge the world into darkness. Bryn is telling the truth.”

  The fighters on the ground below me drop their aggressive postures as they edge closer to Kari, and relief surges inside me.

  “That staff should be in the hands of Elowen. Only a mage is powerful enough to wield an instrument forged by a mage.”

  More vines snap and roots crack until the pillar of light returns. “Fools! Don’t listen to her!” Casek screeches. “Kill the traitor!”

  I almost laugh at the panic in his voice. These people are peaceful at their core. There’s no way they
’ll kill one of their own.

  Except the archers nock their arrows, this time taking aim at Kari.

  “No!” I shout. But from my perch ten feet in the air, there’s nothing I can do. I need help, but my voice has no chance to compete with all the chanting.

  An idea blossoms in my mind, and before it’s fully formed, I allow my magic to surge into the ground. Wood crackles and groans as the trees surrounding us bend down, giving a clear line of sight so all the players can see what’s happening.

  But my magic goes beyond speaking to the trees. Shimmering strands flow out from my left hand, seeking out the four the curse has bound me to. I feel Taj and Calder, exhausted, but holding on. I sense Poe, bruised and bloody, but still fighting.

  Silas’ energy shimmers less vibrantly than that of the other three, but he’s still there. I wrap the golden strand around his leg like a vine until I sense what I need. It’s the power he uses without thought—the one that comes to him as natural as breathing. I draw it back into myself before pushing it out through the earth, amplifying its effects until it connects everyone in the forest.

  You’ve been following the mage Casek, not Rahn. I send the thought into the mind of every person in a half mile radius. He’s twisting your mission to suit his own ends. He’s corrupting your minds and you must fight!

  The ground beneath my feet trembles as my control over my magic wavers. I’m pouring out too much of myself, and I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.

  The forest falls silent as the priests stop chanting. The pillar of light shining through the dome of vines flickers and disappears. I drop to my knees as the raised ridge I perch on begins sinking back to ground level.

  Kari is the first one to reach me. Tears streak her face as she pulls me into a hug. “I’m so sorry!” she sobs.

  “Don’t be sorry. You saved us.”