SPELL TO UNBIND, A

by Laurie, Victoria

  I remembered walking away after listening to the mystic, thinking he was a teller of tall tales and doubting his story, but one side glance at that stinger and the palpable fear that the creature behind me was pumping into the atmosphere told me that the old man had understated his encounter.

  “Esmé,” Finn said, jarring me out of my nightmarish thoughts “Is the creature nearby?”

  I dared not even whisper a reply. Finn would simply have to interpret my silence for confirmation.

  “Tap the phone once for yes, twice for no.”

  I tapped the microphone.

  “Shit. Can you make it back to the Escalade?”

  I tapped the mic twice. The cruellion was between me and Finn’s SUV, and that stinger was just a few feet away. I figured I’d get less than that distance on my sprint back to the vehicle.

  In the background I could hear the sound of Finn’s truck picking up speed. “I’m on the way,” he said. “Stay with me and don’t move.”

  A clicking sound cut through the silence of the night. Low and insanely eerie, the sound rose up from a deep, guttural place, vibrating through the atmosphere and rippling along my skin. Accompanying it was another series of slithers, and four more talons appeared to my right, all tipped with the pulsing boil of poison and a long sharp stinger.

  The sight was too much to take so I closed my eyes and held my breath. It was all I could do not to tremble and faint. I’d never been so afraid in my entire life, and even though much of that fear was no doubt created by the cruellion’s own magic, it did nothing to help me reason my way out of the abject terror coursing through my veins.

  And then, just as suddenly as both the clicking and the slithering had started, they stopped.

  For a long moment nothing happened, and then I realized that the terror I’d been experiencing was beginning to wane. I mean, yeah, I was still scared shitless, but I wasn’t close to passing out in fear.

  Had the cruellion gone? Had it slithered away to find other prey?

  I thought about the giant wall and the metal gates behind me, and realized that they weren’t that tall to keep unwanted guests out, but rather had no doubt been constructed to keep the cruellion in.

  When I couldn’t stand the uncertainty any longer, I opened my eyes to look … and came face to face with a hideous sight.

  In front of me was a mouth large enough to bite me in half, and teeth that were at least six inches long, which peered out of leather black lips and nose shaped like the snout of a snake.

  Amphibian eyes ogled me, and then the leather black lips pulled back to expose lots more jaggedly sharp teeth, and I realized the cruellion was grinning.

  It’d gotten me to look.

  I realized my mistake far too late, and another bolt of fear hit me like a ton of bricks. If I hadn’t been so firmly rooted to the spot, I probably would’ve gone flying backward.

  The cruellion rose up in front of me, gathering all ten of its poisonous talons, splaying them sideways before beginning to curl its body toward me. It wouldn’t use just one stinger to do the deed. It’d use all ten, and I’d be stung from toe to head. No way would I survive that, but no way was I likely to die quickly either.

  The cruellion’s jaw parted, and a spittle of drool dripped down its leather jaw to fall with a plop at my feet.

  It was hungry.

  My mind was racing to find a weapon, anything that might buy me a few seconds or allow me an escape, but I had nothing at hand. It struck me as somewhat ironic that the one thing that would’ve come in handy—my magic pen—was with Elric now. That bastard had all the luck.

  The cruellion hovered maybe six feet above me for a few more seconds, then it began its descent, slowly, almost elegantly, and I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

  Just before it grabbed me up and stung me from stem to stern, a horn blasted loudly, and an engine roared from the road leading in.

  The cruellion’s gaze pivoted to the right, and I dived left without ever looking toward the gates.

  Gravel crunching under large wheels came frighteningly close, and still I didn’t look back. I just focused on running for my life.

  The clicking behind me told me that I should probably run faster.

  A stinger landed in the dirt not even a foot in front of me, and I twisted just in time to avoid a twin headed toward my chest.

  Another stinger landing nearby pivoted me farther, and I realized that the cruellion was blocking my escape back to the Escalade.

  Instead, it was directing me to the pile of trinkets where the aqua light of pulsating energy had told me an insanely powerful trinket lay, which gave me an idea. Make it to the top of the pile and pray to the gods that the trinket was something I could use to transport me beyond the reaches of the cruellion.

  I made it to the base of the pile of junk, sensed something whooshing through the air behind me, and dived to my left.

  A stinger landed in the pile, kicking up trinkets, while behind me, Finn continued to lay on the horn and charge toward us.

  The roar of his engine never let up, and I clawed and spun my legs up the pile, losing ground several times while I pivoted to the left, trying to get far enough away from the creature to avoid any more stingers.

  Again and again the creature clawed after me, but it too seemed hampered by the slippery slope, and for all its swiftness, still wasn’t able to climb as fast as I could amid the loose footing of discarded trinkets.

  I made it up to fifteen, then twenty, then twenty-five feet, very close to the top of the pile, while behind me I heard the scrabbling of the cruellion and shuffling of trinkets. It seemed to my racing mind that the beast was falling farther and farther behind.

  But then I reached for what I thought would’ve been a solid handhold—the leg of a chair sticking out of the pile—but as I grabbed it, the whole chair came loose and tumbled down on top of me, sending me sliding back toward the cruellion.

  Even with flailing arms and legs, I slid down a good ten feet, which I knew without even needing to look had put me within striking distance of the creature. While still attempting to reverse direction, I braced for the inevitable sting I knew was only a second away.

  And that’s when I heard the roar of Finn’s truck surge forward, followed by a thumping sound that shook the pile of trinkets and sent more of them raining down on my head.

  Risking a look down, I saw the cruellion on top of Finn’s hood, draped there while its own hideous form writhed wildly on its back. Finn shoved the truck into reverse, backed up with a punch to the gas, and turned the wheel hard to the left.

  The F-150 rocked violently as it careened in a semicircle, but then Finn hit the brakes, and the cruellion flew off the hood, crashing into another pile of trinkets. Meanwhile I clawed and crawled for purchase, at last finding some, and began to make my way up again. No way did I trust that the cruellion was going to be so easily dissuaded from coming after me again, even with the current distraction of Finn engaging it in a game of demolition derby.

  I managed to gain another five feet or so when I chanced another look back. The cruellion had recovered itself and was wearing its wickedly grotesque smile. It was currently slithering with tremendous speed toward Finn’s truck, stingers out and ready to engage.

  Finn was backing up, his head craning to look behind him while chancing a glance at the approaching beast. His expression was grim. He and I both knew he was as good as dead. No way could his Escalade outrun the thing as he swerved and rocked around the piles of trinkets, each meter taking him farther away from the gates. Even inside that cab, the cruellion would get to him.

  With renewed urgency I scrambled up the pile, sweat pouring off me as I fought for every foot. At last I crested the heap and even without my monocle immediately spotted the thing that’d been emitting the powerful radiant light because it glowed bright enough for even my own eyes to see.

  Sticking out of the junkpile was the hilt of a sword. Without thinking I reached for it, pulling the s
word from the pile. As I pulled it free and held it aloft, a movement at my feet caught my eye, and I realized the scabbard that accompanied the sword had dropped at my feet. As I gripped the sword, warmth enveloped me, surging down my arm, radiating every fiber of my being with raw courage. The magic set fire to the fear, chasing it out of my chest like the noon sun, scaring off shadows.

  Turning to look down toward the bottom of the pile, I saw a horrible sight: the F-150 was backing up, narrowly missing a pile of trinkets while heading straight toward another pile, with the cruellion on top of the hood, where it raised its grotesque hand above the windshield before punching it straight through the glass.

  A surge of fury roared through me as I watched the cruellion murder Petra’s lieutenant, who’d definitely saved my life just moments before. The fury intensified filling every fiber of my being until it finally released itself in a carnal challenge that was by far the loudest sound I’d ever emitted.

  It did the job though. Momentarily pausing its murder of the Flayer, the beast turned its big disgusting face toward me.

  At that exact moment, however, the backend of the F-150 slammed into the pile of trinkets, and an avalanche of sorts took place, with once-enchanted treasures raining down on both the truck and the cruellion, burying them in a smaller pile of junk.

  That pile then moved like churning water and the cruellion emerged, its eyes trained on me and those terrifying lips parting into an evil smile to reveal more of those hideous teeth.

  I knew I should’ve been afraid—terrified even—but rather than paralyzing fear, only courage coursed through my veins. I smiled back at the creature, hungry for the fight.

  I waited as it slithered quickly out of the pile it’d created and headed my way with eager speed. Arriving at the base of the pile of trinkets I was standing on it began to slither its way up again.

  In my hand the sword felt alive and light as air. It was easily two and a half feet long and literally gleamed with bright unbridled power. I felt more alive holding it than I’d ever felt in my life—its magic was insane.

  Shouting another war cry, I bent down to pick up the scabbard, then threw it at the cruellion like a gauntlet in challenge before leaping off the top of the pile, ready to meet the cruellion head-on.

  Everything that happened after that moment felt like time slowed down. The cruellion reared up, opening its gaping maw and exposing a double row of razor-sharp teeth. Its two boney arms tipped in stingers extended toward me, triumph in its eyes.

  The sword moved of its own volition, sweeping downward in a long arc while my body twisted to the left, twirling in the air away from the beast’s clutches. As I spun in the air, I felt the sword make clean contact with the beast, but the speed of the arc never lessened. I heard a series of popping sounds as the blade cut through each digit, sending the bulbous sacs of poison and their stingers flying.

  A moment later, I landed sideways on the pile, ten feet from the bottom. Flipping my head to clear the hair from my eyes, my gaze landed on the cruellion, staring at the stumps of its bleeding fingers as if it couldn’t believe what’d just happened.

  Another surge of power coursed through me, and I charged again toward the beast.

  It saw me coming, and the constant clicks it’d been emitting changed in frequency and tone. They went from a menacing, dangerous cadence to a high-pitched frightful rhythm, and before I knew it, the beast had twirled in a circle and was spinning backward down the heap of trinkets. It reached the bottom well ahead of me, and it slithered with blinding speed over the ground toward parts unknown. With a final leap, I made it to the ground myself and began to chase after it, but it was far faster than me. After a bit I stopped and stood defiantly, sword still clutched in my hand while I stared in the direction the beast had fled. My chest was heaving and sweat lined my brow, but I felt oddly invigorated and ready to fight a dozen cruellions.

  “Holy shit!” I heard from right behind me.

  Startled, I spun around, raising the sword defensively.

  Finn put up his hands in surrender. “Hey, easy, it’s just me.”

  I lowered the sword. “You’re alive,” I said, more statement than question.

  Finn nodded. “Ducked just in time.”

  I pointed the sword toward a nearby digit from the cruellion. “It’s wounded but not dead.”

  Finn nodded, and for the first time I could see that he was looking at me warily.

  “What?” I asked, then froze as I had a sudden thought. “Is it behind me?”

  “No,” Finn said. And then he pointed to the sword. “How … how did you get that?”

  I relaxed and pointed again with the sword to the top of the trinket heap. “It was up there sticking out of the trash. It was the only weapon I could find.”

  Again, Finn nodded. “Yeah, no, I know it was up there. What I’m asking is, how did you free it?”

  My brow furrowed. “Free it? You mean, like, pick it up?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Uh … by grabbing the hilt and pulling it out of the heap.”

  “It just came free?” he asked. And his tone was incredulous.

  “Dude,” I said. “What’s with you? The sword wasn’t stuck. I just plucked it out of the trash.”

  Finn swept a hand through his hair and then he looked around, as if wary of the return of the cruellion. “We need to go,” he said. “Come on.”

  “Okay,” I said, holding tight to my weapon. “But I’m keeping the sword.”

  “Duh,” Finn muttered, turning away.

  His response really surprised me. No way would Petra’s lieutenant simply allow a treasure like the sword to be taken away unchallenged. Still, there was no sense arguing the point when a deadly beast was still lurking about.

  And then I had an alarming thought and glanced toward the gates. They were closed, thank the gods. A cruellion unleashed upon the world of the unbound would’ve been cause for immense alarm.

  With a sigh I followed after Finn, pausing to pick up the dyed-black leather scabbard, embossed with gold filigree from where it’d landed when I threw it off the pile of trash, and resheathed the sword, using the cord that attached at both ends of the scabbard to strap it to my back.

  We reached the Escalade, which was still idling exactly how I’d left it. Finn and I got into the cab and he adjusted the seat to allow for his longer legs, then pointed the SUV away from the gates and hit the gas.

  “Didn’t you say we need to go?” I asked.

  “Yep,” he said, picking up speed and swerving between trinket piles. “There’s a secret exit at the back of the yard. We can’t chance an escape out the front gates again. It’s ripe for an ambush.”

  We wound our way across the junkyard, both of us scanning the area for any sign of the cruellion. “Keep that sword handy,” Finn said as we cruised around one particularly large pile.

  I gave him some side-eye. “You gonna make me take it on all by myself again?”

  “Damned straight,” he said, with a hint of a grin.

  I glanced down at the sword, which I’d set at my feet. It really was a thing of beauty, with a silver blade, golden hilt, and a grip made of twisting black onyx, studded with pearls, and finished off with a pummel of three stacked golden blocks, also studded with onyx and pearl. “I can’t believe you guys tossed this,” I said, lifting the sword to eye-level to marvel at the craftsmanship and attention to detail. “The jewels on the hilt alone would make it worth keeping, not to mention the fact that it’s still got a whole lotta life left in it.”

  Finn puffed out some air. “You could say that.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You really have no idea what you’re holding, do you?”

  I lifted the weapon. “It’s a sword. I’d guess it’s circa late sixth to early seventh century, probably Anglo-Saxon or Vendel. Whoever infused it knew what they were doing. The thing’s got a mind of its own.”

  “It’s actually fifth century, and it w
as infused by Merlin the great.”

  My jaw dropped. He was joking. He had to be. “Come on,” I said, turning my gaze again to the windshield to scan the area for any sign of the cruellion.

  “I’m not kidding.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re telling me this is Excalibur?” I said, holding the sword up again, which was definitely too small and too light to be the famed sword. “Unless Arthur was built like a woman, no way would this sword have fit his palm.”

  “It’s not Excalibur,” Finn said, never taking his gaze from the windshield. “It’s Lunatrabem.”

  I stared at him, mouth again agape. “Hold on,” I said, pushing back against the notion. But then I had to consider that it actually made sense. Lunatrabem—Moonbeam—was made by the same mystic who’d created Excalibur—Merlin the Great.

  Legend had it that Lunatrabem had been given as a wedding gift to Guinevere by the old mystic.

  Since the legend of Excalibur as a sword of might and power far exceeded that of Lunatrabem, which was thought to be nothing more than a decorative totem to the queen, almost nothing existed in the history books about its use. Or its power.

  But we mystics had heard of it. Even though Guinevere was no warrior, legend still had it that Lunatrabem was every bit the feminine equal to Excalibur.

  And while the unbound had heard stories that Guinevere had entered a convent upon King Arthur’s death and lived out her days as a servant of God, we mystics knew that she’d entered the convent pregnant with King Arthur’s child, a boy named Longinus, bound and taken under the wing of Merlin who raised the child in the mystic world.