Cursed (6 page)

After that, everything happened so quickly, it was hard to keep track. I know the veins in Rowan's right hand glowed red with Caster power. Giant worms burst up from the sand, gulping down my fireball skulls, before burrowing under the ground once again. I stared in shock. I knew Casters could control nature, but I'd no idea they could make something strong enough to swallow a fireball skull.

The next thing I knew, I was pinned to my back with Rowan's bulk on top of me. Panic skittered down my spine. I tried to summon power into my body, but his damned counter-spell was still in place. With his right arm, Rowan held both my hands above my head. His torso and legs pinned down the rest of me. That got my blood boiling and how.

I writhed and kicked, but he was so huge, my movements barely made him shift his weight. “Get off me, you sick son of a bitch!”

“You serve the Tsar, I know it.” His left hand gripped the neckline of my robes and tore down.

I fought harder than ever before, not that it did any good. Well, there were spells that could make him pay, now or later. “Leave me alone or you'll regret it!”

Rowan's warm fingers brushed the bare, smooth skin of my left shoulder. “You were telling the truth.” His eyes widened. “You don't have a mark.”

“Of course, I was telling the truth. Now get off me or I swear, I
will
find a way to kill you, in this life or the next. You can rely on it.”

Rowan's voice turned pleading. “I'm so sorry I did that, it's just—”

“I said, off!”

“I'll get up slowly now. No need to keep fighting.” He gently rolled his massive bulk away. Why would anyone need so many muscles, anyway? It was bad enough the guy could cast like he did. I'd never seen anything like it.

The moment his weight lifted, I hopped to my feet. My throat tightened with rage and hurt. The Zelle worked me hard, sure, but no one ever raised a hand against me, let alone pinned me down.

This is the big, bad world, Elea. If you're going to kill the Tsar, then you have to get used to such things.
Maybe even worse.

With trembling hands, I tried to retie the ribbons on my shoulder. I didn't want to transport into the Midnight Cloister looking like this. A real Grand Mistress never let her robes get messed. But there were too many torn ribbons, and my coordination was shot. I couldn't risk casting a spell just to fix my robes when I needed all my strength just to transport to the Midnight. I redid my shoulder into some semblance of proper form and then focused my attention on Rowan. “You're a bastard.”

His green eyes were filled with regret. “Once again, my heartfelt apologies.”

“So you said. I'm casting my spell now. Since I'm not an agent of the Tsar, you're going to leave me alone, right?”

“It's not that simple. You're a Grand Mistress Necromancer. I've been here for months, and you're the first one I've met who isn't a pawn of the Tsar.” His eyes took on an intense look. “There are things you need to understand before you go. We must talk.”

This man was unbelievable. “No, I must leave.” This conversation was going nowhere. I raised my left hand and started to pull power into me. He gripped my wrist again and blocked my spell.

“I'm sorry, Elea.”

“You keep saying that, but you keep acting like a fiend.”

“I can't let you go. You're about to cast a transport spell to the Midnight Cloisters.”

“That's rather obvious. Our spells crossed, so we were both going to the Midnight Cloister. Why do you care?”

His grip held tight. “You have no idea how rare you are. I don't know if there's another independent Grand Mistress Necromancer on this continent.”

“Still doesn't explain why you're keeping me here.”

“If you transport into the Midnight Cloister, you'll be dead in an hour.”

My eyes narrowed. “Why do you care if there are independent Necromancers?”

“I propose a trade. I could use your help, and I think you could benefit from my information. I've been spying on the Midnight Cloister for months. You're walking into your death.”

The thought had occurred to me before, so I couldn't act surprised. How many times had I wondered what the Tsar was really doing in his Cloisters and Monasteries? I eyed the man warily. Maybe he did really want my help. Not that he'd get it, but I was curious what he know. A mage of his power could uncover all sorts of things. “What's wrong with the Midnight Cloister?”

“My team and I have been watching the gates all day and night. Young women come in. Old bodies go out.”

“Last time I checked, that's how life worked.”

“It's the same women, Elea. Only, they're aged and dead in a matter of months. The better the mage, the faster they're killed. We only saw one Grand Mistress go in. She lasted less than an hour.”

I frowned. There were a few aging curses out there, but they were things that Apprentice Necromancers cast for a joke, like giving your friend warts or an extra nose. That said, they didn't really change your underlying age. So, someone would need to cast an aging illusion and then, add another incantation to kill their victim. “Why would anyone do that?”

“I don't know. That's why I could use your assistance. We need someone on the inside of the Cloister who can blend in and look for clues.”

I stared pointedly at his hand on my wrist. “If this is how you recruit help, then you're terrible at it.”

Rowan released my hand and took a pointed step backwards. “I know the way I've behaved hasn't inspired much confidence, but you are about to transport to your death.”

“You're right. I have no confidence in what you say. Anyone could claim the Tsar is up to no good in the Cloisters and Monasteries. That's not enough proof for me to take up with someone who attacked me.”

“Let me prove it to you. There's an oasis near here where my team is camped out. I know for a fact that Midnight Cloister has recruiting agents there. Low level Necromancers, all of them. You could ask them about the Sisters yourself.”

I rubbed my neck and thought through my options.
That could work.
I was powerful enough to cast a truth spell on a low-level agent and they'd never know the difference. And if the Midnight Cloister was killing Grand Mistresses, then I'd need to change my plans. I'd be much better off acting as a Commoner who didn't know magick than arriving in my Sisterly robes.

I need help and a change of plans. The question remained, though… Was Rowan the one to team up with? Something about him didn't add up. “What's your interest in Viktor?”

The corded muscles in his neck tightened. “The Tsar's been working his hybrid magick on my people. Let's just say I want him dead.” Based on the determined look on Rowan's face, that was all he'd say on the subject. “And what about you?”

“He cursed me.” Someday, I'd be able to say those words without my voice breaking.

“You're one of those, then.”

“Yes.” Everyone knew about the Tsar and his infamous timed curses.

“How long?”

“Five years.” I didn't say that the five years ran out on Sunday. That kind of information could give Rowan too much power over me,

Rowan let out a low whistle. “Viktor must have hated your loved one.”

“He did.” The Tsar saw it as a comfort to send your loved one to burn with you. The longer the curse, the more he hated those concerned.

Rowan's gaze turned intense. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. I'll kill him before it strikes me down.”
Hopefully.

“So, will you go with me? Meet my team?”

“Not a chance. You're asking me follow you to an oasis where your people are waiting. I've a better shot to fight you here.” I lifted my hand and showed of my totem rings. “I haven't brought out the bad magick yet.”

Rowan scrubbed his hands over his face. “You're not making this easy.”

“I didn't mean to.”

Rowan paced in a circle. Was he about to attack me again? I pulled some magick into my body, just to be safe, but Rowan didn't make another assault. Whatever he was considering, it had his handsome features all hard with worry. At last, he stopped and raked his fingers through his hair. “Fine, this will sound crazy.”

“That won't be too different from the way you've acted, you know.”

Rowan sighed. “Maybe this will convince you anyway. Last night, I prayed to the Sire of Souls for help.”

My breath caught. He knew about the dream, too. I kept my features still as stone. “Go on.”

Rowan gave me a sad smile. “I warned you that it would seem insane. Casters like me, we only follow the Lady of Creation. But I went out into the desert and prayed to the Sire. I asked him to send someone to help, and I could have sworn I felt him answer that prayer. Elea, I think he sent you to me.”

Our gazes locked. I remembered my dream and how drawn I'd felt to Rowan. And then, there's the fact that he fought me and stopped. If he were trying to drag me away, he could have done so already.

“I'll tell you something else that's crazy,” I said.

His features turned unreadable. “What?”

“I'll go with you to that oasis.”

One side of his mouth lifted into a crooked smile. The grin softened his rugged face. “And you'll help me kill the Tsar?”

“It's a little early to say that. Let's meet this agent of yours. If your story is true, then we'll talk some more.” My stomach tightened into worried knots.

Please, let trusting this man be a good idea.

With that, we started our long walk toward the Western horizon.

Chapter Four

When will this hike to the oasis be over?

We've been marching for hours. Why did I think I could walk across a desert in a black dress? Now, I was a hot and sticky mess who refused to waste any magick on spells for comfort. But that wasn't even the worst part of all this. My quiet walk has given me time to think… And that's far more painful than the heat.

The past five years had been a whirlwind of action. Every waking hour, I trained to use my powers, loaded spells onto my totem rings, and sought out the Tsar. When I saw Tristan in my dreams, it would give me a frightening preview of my future, but afterwards I'd dive right back into work and forget. In all that time, I hadn't really thought about an eternity of being burned alive.

Now, I can't stop picturing it.
Pain. Flame. Forever.

“Lovely sunset,” said Rowan, interrupting my thoughts.

“Oh, yes,” I said quickly. I had barely noticed how the sun touched the horizon line as we neared the oasis.

“I thought every woman liked a sunset.” He gestured past the red, yellow, and orange painted across the sky.

“Not me.” Tonight, the colors reminded me of the shifting shades of the fire that would eternally burn my skin.

This was our entire experience along the walk. Every so often, Rowan would try to make conversation and I'd answer with one or two words. I knew he was trying to make up for tackling me, but I wasn't in the mood.

Finally, we closed in on the oasis. The place was pretty large, as it turned out. A small forest of palm trees surrounded a still blue pool. Hundreds of tents clustered around one side of the water, while the opposite bank was crammed with a busy market. The low murmur of voices echoed over the sands.

Rowan gently touched my shoulder. I almost jumped out of my skin. “Yes?” My voice came out harsher than I'd like.

“I didn't mean to startle you.”

“Don't worry, it's easy to do. I've lived the last half-decade in a Cloister.”

Rowan nodded. “Ah, touch and Necromancers.” This time, the word ‘Necromancers' didn't have as much hatred tied to it. “My team is over there.”

Rowan gestured toward a small group of conical tents by the water. The structures were formed with bent poles, so the shapes swirled upwards, a classic design for Creation Casters. Those mages seemed to work swirls onto everything. Rowan even had them embossed along the seams of his jacket.

As we stepped closer to the group, I could feel the protective energy of a magickal ward surrounding the camp. It was some serious spellwork, too. If I hadn't been a Grand Mistress, I might have turned away in fear.

Rowan set his fingers in his mouth and whistled. Two pairs of men and women came out from the tents. I shook my head. These four could've stepped out of an illustration of Casters from one of my library books. The men were bulky and tall, while the ladies were petite and pixie-like. All of them wore brown leathers like Rowan's—fitted pants and a matching jacket. They paused outside their tents and eyed me warily.

Rowan pointed across the four Casters. “This is Flint, Laurel, Orion, and River.”

“Pleased to meet you.” I noticed how they all held their leather helms by their hips. Traditionally, those were only worn when their King was close by. “Is Genesis Rex here?”

The other Casters looked wide-eyed. Rowan seemed to care less. “Why do you ask?” he said.

“You all have your helms.” From what I knew of Caster culture, Genesis Rex was a very hands-on ruler, which made him the easy focus for assassination attempts. Nothing like leaving your tower to make you a target. The helms were one way to fight it.

“Force of habit, I suppose.” Rowan leaned in closer and grinned. “And if he were nearby, we certainly couldn't tell you.”

“Force of habit, eh? What are you, a member of the imperial family?” A painfully long silence followed. That intense look returned to Rowan's green eyes. All the other Casters suddenly found other places to focus their gaze.

“You were the one who tackled
me
, Rowan.” I pulled on the torn fabric of my shoulder. “A little truth would be welcomed here.”

Rowan nodded slowly. “I'm his nephew. Unless Rex has a child, I'm next in line for the throne.”