Curselock

Chapter 159: Winds of Fate

Cursed contract of the Lord of Space:

Gain access to the spell Spatial Bend. Only usable once per hour.

Spatial Bend (Passive): Space bends just around you, routing lesser projectiles that would strike you to miss.

Return: Inform the Graverend Army of the growing wormhole in the basement of the Archon Citadel before it becomes too large to contain. (Time remaining: 197 years)

Cursed contract of the Lord of Pathways:

The Lord of Pathways has augmented the parasitic tattoo, Lodestar, with a pathway.

Return: If ever you come into contact with the Witch Charlotte Hansley, she must die.

Leland reviewed the two newest pages in his grimoire. He couldn’t sleep, not with all that had happened that evening. So, he went over his newest spell a few times before trying it. A passive effect, while usually less than flashy, was a blessing when it came to combat. Anything to help win battles was greatly appreciated by mages, especially when the mage didn’t have to think about casting. Regardless of his concentration, Spatial Bend would just work.

So he pressed his hand into the page, allowing his halo to take. Leland then slowly sat up, shifting himself to look at the Huntress. She quirked an eyebrow at him before slowly frowning. She studied him for a long moment before reaching for a pebble.

It was fast, far faster than Leland could properly catch. But that didn’t mean much when it was considered a lesser projectile. The pebble interacted with the suit of mana around Leland, suddenly morphing into that of a long string before being ushered around him like a coil rolling down a curved slope. The pebble then leveled off, blasting out into the woods far behind the young man.

“Again, slightly larger pebble,” Leland said.

Isobel smirked, tossing another rock. Then another. And another. By the next, Leland suddenly had a welt across his shoulder.

“H-how big was that one?”

“just larger than an arrow head.”

“That’s… good.”

She rolled her eyes. “’Good?’ You can redirect rocks, that’s much better than ‘good.’”

“Yeah, of course, but it’s not something I want to rely on,” he replied.

“What Lord?” Isobel asked.

“Space.”

“You didn’t think to, I don’t know, get a teleportation spell?”

“I tried,” Leland muttered. “It was either warding projectiles or leave with nothing.”

“And the cost?”

“I’ve got to warn some people about a wormhole.”

“A wormhole…”

Leland sighed. “I spoke with the Lord of Portals, Space, Pathways, Gateways, Portals, and Teleportation. Can you think of any others that might have a large-scale teleporting power?”

“Magic, Void, Light,” Isobel offered.

“I have a contract with the Lord of Magic. The Lord of Light is a Vile Lord, so no. And to be honest, I forgot about the Lord of the Void. Harlen told me about her. She’s apparently passionate.”

“You think she’ll help you?”

Leland mulled on that. “Maybe? It's always a gamble. The Lord of Portals seemed to hate me on sight, so…”

“You do have a hate-able face.”

“Hey…”

Isobel laughed. Leland did the same a moment later. How long had it been since he actually smiled? It had only been a day or so since they arrived at Archon Valley, but it sure felt much longer. The battle with the Toy Maker had changed things, it had marked a shift in personality. Not just in Leland, but the other boys as well.

Leland wished they were here with him. Exploring the Valley with them would have been an adventure! A dangerous one, sure, but an adventure, nonetheless.

“I received a message while talking with the Lord of Portals, however.”

“A message?”

“From my Lord. Suffice it to say, Sybil has two months before something happens and the Boneforged Monarch changes her. She needs to be with her mother before that.”

“Hence you asking about teleportation-able Lords.

Leland nodded.

It was at that moment Sybil chose to sit up. While Isobel had known the Princess was awake, she decided not to mention it to Leland. Why? Well, how was she supposed to know Leland was going to talk about her.

Sybil regarded Leland coldly. “What do you mean change?”

Leland hesitated, fumbling over his words. “Something with your soul and the Monarch’s. I wasn’t given the specifics, but I’ve seen what happens when a Lord’s soul tries to enter a mortal’s body. And well, since you are not a liquid pile of burnt skin, something is protecting you from the Monarch’s soul.”

“So what?” Isobel asked. “You think in two months this protection will fade?”

“That, or two months is how long the Boneforged Monarch will remain idle. We don’t know her plans, and who's to say if you don’t complete the ritual in that timeframe she’ll cut her losses and try again.”

Sybil went stark still at that.

Leland noticed and quickly added, “The note from my Lord didn’t make it seem like all hope was lost. If there was no hope at all, she would have mentioned it.”

“Would she?” Isobel asked. “You can’t understand what a Lord is thinking any more than a hurricane.”

Leland didn’t agree with that. In his experience, Lords had been conniving or manipulative, yes, but they always worked toward a goal. If the Lord of Curses wanted to lead him on, what was the end goal? Force him to watch Sybil be changed? No. She’d know he would break if that came to pass.

And like many times before, the Lord of Curses had sprinkled in enough crumbs of advice to keep him moving to what he wanted. To help those he cared about.

“She said you can’t glow anymore, Sybil. It speeds up the process apparently, and we are going to need all of those two months to get you home.”

Sybil stared at Leland like he was an executioner.

He did not like that look. “Sybil, I promise I will get you home unchanged.”

She looked away.

For a moment, Leland felt his heart sink. Sybil was a friend, and he had never seen Jude or Glenny look away from him like that. They trusted him, the Princess obviously did not.

A pain filled his lungs and Leland suddenly found his vision narrow. All his life he had only wanted to follow in his parents’ shoes and help people. Whether as an adventurer, an Inquisitor, or a scholar. It didn’t matter how, as long as he was out there actively making people’s lives better.

The Onryos, Shoutwell, Gelo and Floe. The list was short, yes, but Leland desperately wished to add another name. Sybil.

A clap of muted thunder rippled from the heel of his shoe. He skidded across the ground, managing his speed with amateurish effort. A kick of lightning followed him, but Leland made sure to skirt around Sybil so as not to harm her.

He arrived in her gaze, crouched down low so she was forced to look at him. She startled at the sudden use of magic, but Leland was already speaking by then.

“I will get you home. I promise Sybil Palemarrow.”

The Princess nodded, silently swallowing all the while stilling her churning stomach. With everything that had happened so far, she realized Leland had been there for all of it. And while she didn’t believe his words, Sybil believed in Leland.

Isobel let the moment go on until she couldn’t stomach it any longer. Kids, especially lovey dovey ones, were like poison. A poison of gross smiles. She had to cut it away before it affected her.

“And just how are you going to get her home?”

Leland backstepped, arriving at his pillow and blanket with a snap of lightning. “First step is summoning Lodestar. The Lord of Pathways gave me a custom pathway, somehow mixing it with my summoned scythe—”

Suddenly the Huntress was gone and a wave of kicked-up leaves rushed into the woods. Before Leland and Sybil could even question it, Isobel arrived back, monster in hand. A monkey-alligator thing was thrust at him, with only the words “use this,” as an explanation.

Leland gawked at the adult.

“What?” Isobel asked. “It’s been stalking around us for the last hour. I was going to just throw a rock at it but, well, here we are.”

Shaking his head, Leland mechanically siphoned the creature’s soul. By the time the ring of purple fire faded, a soul of the Damned presented him with ammunition.

“Thank you,” he muttered, taking the lost soul and allowing the soul of the Damned to be free. It left while kneeling, descending into the ground.

Then, without any fanfare, Leland used the lost soul to summon Lodestar. Darkness rose and fell, shaping itself into a pole while growing from his hand. Manifestation took, and the scythe fully formed with a bit of a spring.

Before Leland could even question the Lord of Pathways’ changes, a gale rushed by. He braced himself, the wind like a pendulum hammer crashing into his back. He forced himself to stay stationary, but all he thought about was following the tempest. Something whispered in the back of his mind. All of his worries would be scraped away if he followed the wind.

If he walked through the pathway. His pathway.

Behind him, the Huntress tossed another pebble. It whipped around him, Spatial Bend still being activated.

“Kid,” she said, pulling Leland’s attention. When he looked at her, she threw another slightly larger one.

He stepped to the side, arriving near a tree with a kick of lightning. In other words he dodged, yet he didn’t know what he dodged. It had moved far too fast for his young inexperienced eyes, yet his Path told him to move. The wind had shifted, the gale turned, the tempest reversed.

“There’s a reason your dad couldn’t defeat that Pathway Witch in Ruinsforth, kid,” Isobel said with a smirk. “Legacies of Pathways are known for always evading and out maneuvering. If they are fast enough, that is.”

Leland looked at her, but the wind called his attention. He turned off, looking into the distance. The longer he thought about it, the more he realized it wasn’t just wind. Invisible, yes, but far from a force that could push clouds or make grass sway.

No, it was far more than that. Wind, yes, but wind that affected fate rather than the physical.

“Divination,” he muttered, tracing the winds toward their apex.

“So kid, where do you have to go to take the Princess home?” Isobel asked.

Swallowing, Leland pointed toward the sky. “Where we’ve been headed. To the eye of the storm.”

Ahead of the group, thick dark clouds rolled with an eternal rain. Big booms of blue lightning marked silhouette deep within, each twisted and wicked. Highlighted by the flashes of light, beings fought for dominance over whatever the storm circled while defending against the deafening thunder.

Isobel sighed. “Of course it is.”