Curselock

Chapter 195: Room

“So what did we all learn today?” Diana asked, her voice strained.

It was Jude Two that answered first, as Jude one had his mouth full of roast. “Rocks can talk!”

Diana and Roy face palmed.

“You learned rocks can talk?” asked Leland.

“Yeah! They are pets!”

“The temple had rocks that can talk as pets?”

Jude finished chewing. “I think we are making ourselves pretty clear, Leals. They have ROCKS THAT CAN TALK!”

“Were they… were they on leashes?”

Jude Two blinked slowly as the original Jude put down his plate. “Leals? Why would pet rocks need to be leashed?”

Leland looked around for help, no one met his eyes, not even his own mirage. Clearing his throat, he said, “Well I don’t know. That’s why I asked.”

The Judes hmphed.

“Anyway,” Leland continued. “I learned that even during flight, I am susceptible to damage.”

“Damage?” his mom asked, her face twisted. “You were hit out of the air by a boulder!”

“Exactly. It was a learning experience.”

Before Spencer could chime in, Glenny quietly said, “I conquered the Void.”

Everyone stopped, except the Judes who kept eating.

“Really?” Leland asked.

“Yeah… Well, sort of. I adapted to my current understanding of the Void. I can grasp the basics like I can the Sightless King’s power.”

Spencer asked, “The Sightless King’s power is the red weapons you make, right? How does the Void manifest?”

Glenny Two answered. “Like an elemental aspect.”

The adult Silvers made a whistling noise, the Browns all squinted, and Carmon and Isobel looked indifferent.

“What?” Jude asked.

“It means he can imbue the Void into his attacks like say a flame-enchanted sword can produce fire-aspect.” Lucia answered. “If I’m understanding correctly, that is.”

Glenny nodded. “That’s right. I took a chunk out of a sand elemental. Just poof, gone.” He opened and closed his hand and fingers to mime the phenomenon.

“Huh,” Leland said.

Isobel took a big swig of her drink, saying nothing.

Carmon, however, muttered, “Now if it didn’t actively hurt him…”

“Using the Void hurts you?” Jude asked.

“No—”

“Yes,” Isobel said.

Gleny scowled. “My nose was bleeding and I was light headed.”

“Uh,” Lucia said calmly. “You aren’t making your internals go poof as well, right? On accident, I mean? It wouldn’t be the first time one of the more esoteric element types has harmed the caster.”

“He didn’t. I checked,” said Carmon.

“Ah. Then it must be a forceful aspect,” Roy said like everything made sense all of a sudden.

“A what?” Glenny asked.

“Hmm. Maybe ‘forceful’ isn’t the correct term.” He stroked his long beard. “See, whenever I block a significantly powerful strike from a powerful enemy with an enchanted weapon, more times than not they receive some sort of bounce back.”

Everyone held blank looks.

He continued, “Going back to the fire sword example, imagine a warrior striking my shield. Sword meets shield, flames get thrown up into the warrior’s face.”

“Oh,” Lucia said, “he means magic backfire.”

Various “ohh”s and “ahh”s sounded. Roy grumbled something.

“But what does that mean for Glenny?” Leland asked.

Isobel stood, stepping over to the campfire and grabbing another hunk of meat off a spit. “It means, he needs to adapt to the backfire or grow proficient in using the Void to not have backfire.”

“I agree,” Carmon said quietly.

The Glennys looked at each other. “Dad you okay?”

“Hmm? What? Yeah, I’m fine.”

Everyone waited a moment to see if that went anywhere. When it didn’t, Spencer asked, “Anyone rank up?”

Leland opened his grimoire and reviewed.

Fracture is now rank 18.

Crow Massacre is now rank 17.

Curse of Collapse is now rank 16.

Harbinger Halo is now rank 19.

Circle of Souls is now rank 19.

“Two nineteens, one sixteen, seventeen, and an eighteen,” he said to the group.

“What about that sixth spell of yours?” Spencer asked.

“It’s at max rank.”

“Oh, that’s good.” He turned to Jude. “Jude?”

The Berserker Legacy was squinting at the bloodstain in his axe. “Uh. It’s kind of hard to read. I think I have everything either eighteen or nineteen.”

Jude Two was doing the same. “Eighteen or nineteen, yeah.”

“Glenny?”

The Chameleon Legacy was looking into his hand mirror, foggy words catching his eye. “Two twenties. One nineteen, an eighteen, and, uh, a twelve.”

“A twelve?” Carmon asked.

“For the tongue ability…”

“That was the one your mother took the longest to rank up as well. Have you tried writing your name over and over again using a pen and your tongue only?”

“Erm, no?”

“That was how she—” Carmon stopped abruptly because Isobel was looking off into the distance. She fired a bolt poison, killing whatever she saw instantly.

She shrugged.

“Small precision techniques was how she ranked up that ability.”

Glenny took a moment, but he eventually nodded. Training his tongue ability was not his favorite use of his time. Wanting to change the subject, he asked Jude, “Did you receive another blessing?”

To the side, Roy and Diana were smiling brightly. The Judes, however, picked at their teeth, utterly ignoring the question. “Yeah,” one of them said meekly. “Yes,” the other said as though he was too busy to answer.

“Well is it any good?” Glenny asked after glancing at the Lelands. Both eyed the Judes suspiciously.

“It’s alright.”

“It’s okay.”

“Ah. That’s good. Leland? Have you—”

“It’s amazing!” real Jude announced, a smile bounding past whatever game he was trying to play.

Jude Two sighed. “I thought were going to play it off as—”

“I can’t help it! The blessing is awesome!”

“Alright, alright. It is, you’re right.”

Everyone beside Jude’s parents, who had their faces in their hands shamefully, stared blankly.

Leland rolled his eyes. “What does the blessing do, Jude?”

“It’s actually quite simple! It is called Incarnation Mirage! When invoked, I can—”

“He can recreate me! Anywhere! Not just in the desert!” Jude Two interrupted.

Isobel cursed loudly.

Carmon laughed, which caused Spencer to laugh. Lucia looked on somberly, instantly sorry for Roy and Diana. Leland and Glenny, however, blinked slowly, each of their unique interactions with their own mirages coming to mind. Glenny didn’t really see an issue. Leland, however, did.

“Uh, Jude? Are you sure that you want to make a mirage outside this place?” he asked.

Beside him, his mirage scoffed. “Busybody.”

“Weirdo,” counted Leland.

“Slowpoke.”

“Fake.”

Leland Two gasped. “Take that back!”

“What? You are fake!”

“I am very much a real mirage!”

“And a fake Leland!”

“You are just upset that I didn’t get hit by a boulder!”

“You didn’t even fight!”

“Because you got jealous when I could fight better!”

Around the campfire, friends and family quietly whispered to one another about being surprised it was Leland who didn’t get alone with his mirage.

Situated in a place beyond reality but also well within the realm of men, a splintered wooden table rested quietly ready for the next group to make use of its services. It sat within a white stone box, the box being sealed from outside and in. There were no windows, no doors, not even a seam where the walls and floor connected.

Two chairs had been placed in this room millennia ago, each one as splintered and broken as the table. Having been reconstructed and repaired by the Caretaker thousands of times over the years, very little had been lost of the chairs. They were both still chairs, yet one had slightly less material on the seat.

A custom had grown from this small discrepancy. The first in the room was supposed to take the more broken seat while leaving the more perfect seat for the other party. This, of course, was often used as a resource for negotiations as well as a powerplay to see who could arrive the earliest, or latest in some cases.

This time, however, the custom surrounding the chair was ignored. The first party arrived minutes before the other and took claim over the less broken one.

He was an ancient gentleman, a being that had seen more history than most yet looked middle aged. His eyes, deep and green, held a secret of power. There, locked away in a cage created by several of the divine, the Undying Lord watched the mortal plane through this man’s eyes. This man, a murderer and monster, was named Ashford.

He arrived early not because he wished to be polite or set a trap, but because in this sealed room he was totally alone. The voice in his head, the will of his Lord, was as muted as it had been years ago. The room was like a safe haven to Ashford, powerful enough to block all outside magic, yet, unfortunately, too weak to fully rid the man of his problems.

He liked to think coming to this room was for his sanity, but it was just another part of his master’s goal.

Without any warning or recourse, the second party member arrived. He took in the small room and splintered table and chairs, a growl escaping his lips.

Ashford watched the newcomer with bated breath. He had met a few Lords during his time as his master’s Champion, yet none came anywhere near this thing in perceived power. There were rules the Lords had to conform with,, otherwise the Caretaker would grow angry and start upon a single woman crusade to oust the rulebreaker from the divine ranks.

Yet, the being before Ashford, was held to no such rules for it was far from the divine ranks. But that didn’t mean his power was anything but divine.

How such a discrepancy went unanswered, Ashford didn’t know. He suspected that the abomination now sitting across from him will ultimately be killed by the Caretaker sooner than later. Which put this meeting on a timetable. How to best make use of a being that surely would not be around this time next year? It was a question Ashford hoped to have answered by the end of this meeting.

“My Lord tells me we have a mutual enemy of sorts.”

A dull growl escaped the being’s haunted lips. “And?”

“I wish them not to interfere with my plans when they assuredly commit to fending off my attack.”

Ashford, momentarily, was lost in the crimson red of the being’s hollow eye sockets. He shook himself, mentally touching upon the fact that he could not die.

“Who?” The single word flooded the sealed room, an anger and rebellion festering like death rot in a dank crypt.

“A young Harbinger named Leland Silver and an Inquisitor with the alias ‘The Huntress.’”

The being leaned back, his dark mighty mane stretching against the white back wall. “When, where?”

“Palemarrow Castle. And in one week.”

The Sightless King gave his answer with a short nod, a gesture that was as alien to it as it was for Ashford to watch. It wasn’t every day that a true monster impersonated a human to such a degree.

“Good,” Ashford said, disappearing suddenly.

A moment later, the Sightless King also left, but not before howling with enough reverberation to shatter the table and chairs. He laughed to himself, the sound echoing against the barewalls like an earthquake destroying a town.

Soon the sealed room was left empty, the meeting concluded without violence or bloodshed. The table and chairs were broken, however, which prompted the Caretaker to make an appearance. She was suddenly in the room, silent and bored. With a glower face, she fixed everything with a flick of magic.

She then sat on the less broken of the chairs, and thought. How would she inform Leland of this development…

She herself could break the rules? Who would enforce them against her, of all people? Most wouldn’t even notice, but those that did, she would have to pay off so as to not make a future annoyance for herself. She could try to create some pecking code with the boy’s tattoo… but that was unlikely to work.

She could wait for him to be knocked unconscious again, and steal his dreams and replace them with a message. She could blackmail a Lord he tried to make a contract with… but she had already done that and, well, she hated being social with her peers. Especially those she wasn’t friends with.

Or she could skip warning him all together and simply let fate playout. Briefly, she checked the threads of fate. There was room for error, like always, but most of the strands were set in stone. For the most part they were positive, but only if—

She stopped herself. There, among the millions of potential futures, was a single thread the width of an actual thread. Most of the threads around it were the size of branches or even tree trunks, but there, fractally likely to actually happen, was one future she could get behind.

That changes things, she thought to herself, noting how uncomfortable the splintered chair was. Maybe I should get some new furniture while I’m at it.

With that, a plan come into motion. One that was luckily as hands-off as she could muster when dealing with Leland. She actually chuckled to herself, noting her own genius.

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