Cursed (5 page)

“I call upon you,” he said. The rest of his spell was lost on the wind. A haze of red mist swirled about the ground, the unmistakable sign of a Creation Caster spell. One word carried above the noise. “Viktor.”

I gasped. What would this Caster want with our Tsar? The man glanced up, his green eyes looking straight at me.

No, through me.

The man spoke the last words of his incantation—“so mote it be”—and lowered his head once more. The red mist of his spell disappeared.

After that, the man, desert, and night sky all vanished. I found myself back in my old farmhouse. Now, this dream was familiar territory. I huffed out a relieved breath, knowing that Tristan would be here soon. Our connection was still intact.

My kitchen looked the same, which was even more reassuring. Everything was neat and clean with bare plaster walls and simple wooden furniture. Tristan instantly materialized before the hearth. My soul warmed to see him. Like always, he wore his Captain's uniform of a long blue coat with bright copper buttons over short trousers and tall boots. The flames licked about him, close enough to warm him, but not enough to burn.

Not yet, anyway.

Gods-damned curse.
Every time I'd see Tristan, my dreams would always start off this way. My friend would look fine and healthy, but all too soon, the flames from the hearth would turn deadly. A bitter taste filled my mouth. This was my friend's afterlife—burning to death, only to regenerate and burn again.

We didn't have long before the fire took hold.

“Elea?” Tristan's voice was low and ragged. “Are you really here?” His once-bright eyes stared blankly across the room.

“Yes, it's me.”

The flames from the hearth burned hotter, setting the back of Tristan's coat on fire. On instinct, I reached toward him.

“No,” Tristan said. “It's bad enough that I have to suffer. I won't have you burning yourself again.” He gritted his teeth against the pain. My hands curled into useless fists. I wanted to take all his agony away, but there was only one kind of comfort that I could offer.

“I found the
Master Atlas of Magick
. I'll be with Viktor soon.”

His shoulders slumped with relief. “Thank the—”

Suddenly, fire burst out from the hearth and enveloped Tristan whole. Every muscle in my body tightened
.
Tristan cried out, the pitiful sound slicing through the roaring flames. His flesh melted off in strips, exposing the bone underneath. My eyes stung.

“I'll kill the Tsar, Tristan.” I hoped he could still hear me. “You can count on it.”

The fire and smoke grew thicker. Tears streamed down my cheeks as all too soon, Tristan was burned away.

Chapter Three

I woke up the next morning in my cramped cot. Like most places in the Cloister, the Sister's dormitory was a snug and dark space that had been dug out of the mountainside. A single wooden wall blocked out the elements while providing a window-hole for air and light. An external covered stairway connected this place to other rooms in the Zelle.

I rubbed my eyes and tried to get my wits about me again. That dream with Tristan had been rough. It was hard to see in the dim light, but all the other beds in the dormitory looked empty. The Sisters must have left for morning spell-work already. My brows lifted with surprise. Most days, I was the first one awake. A gray-haired Sister stepped out of the shadows.

“Ah, you're up,” said Sister Constance. She had once been tall, but now her shoulders were hunched with age. Her long silver hair hung low over her black robes. Like all the Sisters, she moved and spoke like an emotionless statue come to life.

“I overslept,” I said.

“You summoned that Tristan. You shouldn't have tired yourself, today of all days.”

The rooms in the Zelle were always chilly, but even so, the temperature seemed to drop another twenty degrees. “Petra told you that I was leaving?” I'd hoped to sneak out without any goodbyes. Otherwise, I wasn't sure if I could go.

“We all know,” said Constance in her monotone. “We're casting spells for you this morning. Strength and wisdom. I was only to stay until I saw you off.” A flicker of sadness tightened her face. “Good luck.” For a moment, I thought she might say something more, but she turned on her heel and strode away.

“Thank you.” My voice wobbled with emotion. I didn't want to leave my Sisters. They appeared detached and stiff, but underneath that, I knew any one of them would lay down her life for mine.

I watched Constance march down the outer staircase and my heart sank.
Time to kill the Tsar
. I'd dreamed of this morning, expecting it to be a triumphal day where I smiled from ear to ear. After all, I was a Grand Mistress Necromancer now. I'd tracked down the Tsar. I had a fistful of totem rings that were loaded with spells to destroy him.

But actually living this moment? Turns out, it was a lot harder than I thought. What I really wanted to do was crawl under my covers and hope everything went away on its own. Maybe another hero would take on Viktor. Maybe my curse would just spontaneously end.

Maybe I needed to get out of bed and kill the man already.

I rose, dressed quickly, and skipped breakfast. My stomach was roiling enough without adding food into the mix. It felt like an especially long walk down the stone hallway that led to the Cloister exit. In this passage, the rock walls were covered with murals of happy skeleton art. The figures twirled, sang, and offered silly grins. The afterlife would be fun, or at least, that's how the Zelle saw things. They really were an amazing group.

As I reached the end of the passage, the floor became heavy with snow. My thin sandals slipped on the ice, and I tried not to think of it as a bad omen. Was my mission about to fall out from under me as well?

Focus on your work. One step at a time.

The hallway ended with a ledge that jutted out onto the exposed mountainside. Snow crunched under my feet. I stepped out and glanced up. A network of wooden passageways wound up the mountain's face. The soft voices of my Sisters filled the air. They were well into their morning spells now. Part of me wanted to race back and join them.

I turned around instead. Below me, a steep staircase zig-zagged down the mountainside, the stone steps glistening in the sun. Not good. I'd forgotten how icy things got this time of year.

Why did I tell Petra not to cancel morning spells again?

Oh, yes.
I didn't want to upset my Sisters any more than I already was. I also didn't want my transport spell colliding with theirs, so there was nothing left for it than to walk down the freezing mountain. I debated about going back for my furs, but I worried that I wouldn't leave the dormitory if I did. Straightening my shoulders, I began the long climb down.

It was late morning by the time I reached the final flight of stairs. At this point, my teeth were chattering so hard, my jaw hurt from the strain. Ice clung to my hair and made my eyelashes stick together. For the hundredth time, I considered casting a warming spell and decided against it. I'd never transported so far away from the Zelle before. I needed to conserve all my power for that incantation.

At last, I reached the final step. A small field of snow separated the staircase from the Cloister's boundary line, which was a low stone that was covered in more painted murals. A short distance away, there stood the tall and leafless trees of the Frost forest.

I made it.

Shivering from cold, I looked back up at the mountain. The connected passageways of the Zelle was more than a league away from me now. That was more than enough room to safely cast. Excitement warmed my soul.

I was about to Kill the Tsar.

A little voice inside my head that said I might be about to make my situation worse. If I got caught, who knows what other terrors the Tsar would inflict on me? The heavy covers of my bed seemed especially inviting.

Be positive, Elea. You can do this.

Lifting my left arm, I pulled Necromancer power into my body. The energy wanted to buck and reel through me, but I concentrated it directly into my left hand. The bones there shone blue. I spoke transport spell from the
Atlas.

The greatest Cloister of all

Jewel of the Endlos desert

Center of sunlight and sacred learning.

I paused in the incantation to give the spell time to take hold. A blue haze formed around my feet. Perfect. Now, all I had left to do was recite the last lines of the incantation, and I would be off.

Sire of Souls, I call upon thee

Transport me to—

Creation Caster magick filled the air, sending a red mist hovering around me. Alarm rattled down my spine. This was why I'd hiked away from the Zelle in the first place. With this foreign magick in the mix, my spell could get ruined or worse.

I needed to end this incantation, now.

Lowing my arm, I tried to cut off the power to my spell, but it was too late. I was already being dragged off in a new direction.

Darkness and pain enveloped me. It felt as if my body were being yanked in a hundred directions at once. Every joint and muscle was pulled to its limit. I tried to scream, but no sound came out. At last, I was solid and standing again on my own two feet. Every inch of me felt strained and boneless. I leaned over, balancing my hands on my knees, and gasped for air. What a mess. A full minute passed before I recovered enough to look around.

I scanned the horizon once. Twice. Nothing but sand and sunshine in every direction. The Midnight Cloister was nowhere to be seen. For a long moment, I stood stock-still as my black robes fluttered around me and the truth became clear.

My spell got thrown off. Gods-damn it.

A figure materialized nearby—a hulking man dressed in fitted brown leathers, which was the classic look for a Creation Caster. Plus, he was positively bristling with their traditional weapons. Daggers were holstered onto his thighs. A pair of short-swords were strapped onto his back. His face was rugged and, surprisingly enough, familiar. Brown hair, broad shoulders, and green eyes… I'd seen this man before.

Here was Creation Caster from my dream. If this man's incantation were focused on finding the Tsar, then our magick might have crossed paths and thrown my transport spell off.

Now, my entire quest might have been ruined, with years of planning tossed out a window. I marched toward my unwelcome guest. “Hey, you!”

“Hail and well met.” His deep voice rumbled over the sands. “I'm Rowan.”

I stopped an arms-length away. “Elea.”

“Your transport spell caught with mine, Necromancer.” The way he said the word Necromancer, I might as well be dripping with the plague. “Why did Viktor send you?”

It was an effort to keep my voice low and features still. Of all the people in the realm, I would never help Viktor. “It's not your place to question me, Caster. I'm going to transport away. This time, you won't interfere again. Do we understand each other?”

“If you're an agent of Viktor's, then I'm not allowing you to go anywhere until you explain yourself.”

After five years of monotones, his voice sounded positively wild with inflection. It made me even more anxious to leave this man behind. “I don't have time for your nonsense. I'm going and, unless you want to eat a fireball, you won't stop me.”

I lifted my left arm and pulled in some magick. My body still felt shredded from the last trip, but I had to risk it. I must transport to the Midnight Cloister right away. Energy streamed into my torso. My limbs shook.

Quick as a heartbeat, Rowan stepped forward and grabbed my wrist. How dare he? Anger made my vision collapse until all I could see were his determined green eyes. This man had a lesson to learn.

Well, I warned him.

I started the incantation for a fireball spell. My bones glowed blue with power. Rowan began some kind of counter-spell. I didn't recognize the words, but there was no mistaking the surge of foreign energy that coursed through me. The hold I'd kept on my power shattered. My magick drained away.

I locked gazes with Rowan. Not even Petra had been able to block my spells so well. “You're a gods-damned menace.”

“Interesting comment, coming from an agent of the Tsar.”

“I am not aligned to Viktor. I give you my word.”

“You know how many times I've heard that? Your kind does nothing but lie.”

“My kind?” This mindless thug was calling my sweet Sisters a pack of liars. Well, I had more than one way to cast a fireball spell. My totem ring was pre-loaded with a cluster of them. Unlike the traditional spellwork, I only had to speak one word to launch the magick. It angered me to waste this weapon on some brute in the desert, but it might be my only way out of here.

I raised my left fist. “Fire!”

Five ghostly skulls shot out from the ring, each one surrounded by blue flames. They slammed into Rowan's chest, knocking him onto his back. Good. I'd feel sorry for the dolt, but he had it coming.