Curselock

Chapter 177: Fly

Hunched over with his hands on his knees, Leland swallowed down the nausea from building his lungs. He would have Touch of Regeneration-ed it away, but they were on a public road. Invoking a contract would draw eyes. So, he suffered, morning exercise still proving to be the bane of his existence.

“Kid, you really are weak.”

Leland’s head shot up and he glared at Isobel. She had run beside him the whole time and not broken a sweat. “One of these days—” he sucked in a breath, “I’m going to out run and mock you.”

Isobel chucked. “Maybe in a hundred years when I’m old and frail.”

He didn’t grace her with a response, knowing that antagonizing people was like kindling to her. Instead he simply breathed and looked around.

The plains were still just that, plains. Grass, more grass, and extra grass. Even the road leading away from Jyn was covered in grass. Luckily the caravan traffic battled it down, creating two parallel lines of dirt the width of a wagon apart from one another.

Isobel frowned when Leland didn’t respond then let out a silent sigh. “Are you ready to fly yet? Knowing you, it is going to take awhile for you to get the hang of wings.”

Again, Leland didn’t fall for the bait. “Yes,” he muttered, standing straight.

“Then follow me,” Isobel said, dropping her hands to her sides.

A centipede scuttled up her torso from her lower back, wrapping itself around her arm and wrist. It froze in place, its armored legs latching into her. Two pincers flared out beyond her hand like reverse crossbow limbs. In its maw, a spike of green toxic sludge rested like an ice sickle.

Next came wings. Two sets of two, they sprouted like flowers budding and reaching for the sky. Dragonfly in relation, the wings fluttered denting the nearby grass down with a sudden gust. Isobel let herself be lifted off the ground, hovering just to show Leland.

“Rise, then move,” she said. “Don’t try to do both at the same time while you are learning. Back straight, as well. Don’t topple over otherwise you will eat dirt.”

Leland looked around. He wasn’t nervous about flying, but he was nervous about invoking a contract. The worry would ease once he was in the air and no one could easily spot him, but that was going to take a bit of practice.

“Is anyone around?” he asked.

“Yes,” Isobel said plainly. “And they will out you as a Harbinger the moment you make your halo.”

“Then I’m not—”

“The Inquisitors are also coming. I left a note at the inn saying who we were and admitting to our crimes.”

Frowning, Leland said, “That’s a lie.”

She shrugged, her face hard like stone. “Cast the spell invisibly.”

He didn’t want to believe it… but that also seemed like something the Huntress would do to get him to travel faster. He knew she was lying, but also knew that calling her bluff would not end well. She might actually fly back to Jyn and leave a note if he called her on it.

Leland’s legs felt weak, and he wasn’t sure if it was nerves or because he had just sprinted down a dirt road. He saw what she was trying to do; trying to get him to do. There was no greater method of learning on the fly than to be forced due to desperate situations. Whether the Inquisitors were coming or not didn't matter, that wasn’t the problem.

He needed to cast invisibly. It was a necessary skill at this point. If he didn’t, the Inquisitors might as well be coming. Because they surely would come if he cast a contract without it being invisible.

“You are a sadist,” he muttered, focusing inward.

To the side, Isobel watched quite proud of herself. She had found that Leland often needed a little kick to start actually progressing. In the Archon Valley that kick was Sybil’s safety. Back in Frostford or Shoutwell, that kick was his friends being in danger. Obviously he himself being in danger wasn’t as large a kick as the others, but it was enough.

Magic, lifeforce, and mana all coursed through Leland’s body. There was no single point where they gathered for Harbinger Halo, not like when the resources for Fracture gathered in his fingertips. He wasn’t sure if that made casting invisibly more difficult or not. Creating the “filter” was easy enough, but he had yet to push the curse through.

He calmed himself, pushing away thoughts of Isobel and the Inquisitors. He stopped worrying about Sybil, Sapphire, and his friends and family. He wanted to get home to them all, but thoughts were often a mage’s worst nightmare. For as smart as they generally were, their imaginations often ruined good things before they started.

He remembered his mom’s words from years ago, “Use your head for research. Trust your instincts for magic.”

And he did. He pushed Harbinger Halo through the filter at the same time he pressed his palm into the Crow Lord’s contract. He didn’t focus on the actual contract, though. Only on the violet halo that would form above his head.

Dark feathered wings appeared with a plume. Fuzzy ethereal feathers launched into the open air, trailing down in small circles as they fell to the ground where they quickly faded away. Leland flinched, in his peripheral vision two wicked wings birthed an epic wingspan. They extended far from him, easily eclipsing his body four or five times over.

Isobel let out a low whistle. “Well, you won’t be able to walk into any buildings with them active. Not unless that building is a massive barn.”

Leland ignored the comment, instead trying to look at the halo above his head… which, when he thought about it, was something he had never really done. The halo floated there, yes, but it was directly anchored to the top of his head. Had he ever actually seen it in full?

“Do you have a mirror?” he asked.

Isobel blinked at him, then materialized a small handheld mirror from her inventory ring. Leland took it eagerly. First he noticed how much he actually needed a haircut. And a shave. And a proper bath. He waved the mirror around, trying to find the real target. A few wisps of purple hung around, but they blended in rather well with the dark wings attached to his back.

“If anyone was looking, they would think the effect is from the wings,” Isobel said. “There is no ‘ring’ definition. About your head.”

“So it worked?” Leland asked, to which he got a brisk nod in response. “Did… did you actually alert the Inquisitors?”

Isobel gave him an “are you dumb” look.

“Right,” he said, turning away. “So, lets see if I can—”

At his will, the crow wings beat down once. Hard. The force took him off his feet and sent him sailing yards ahead. His boots caught the ground on the way, flipping him headfirst into the grass. Then panic made him flap again, and he flipped again this time somersaulting and somehow landing on his feet. He quickly blinked, then turned around to Isobel, trying to play it off like he meant to do that.

Isobel was not impressed.

“Take all the time you need,” she said, oozing with sarcasm. “But I’m not killing any monsters if they come.”

Spencer watched his wife, Lucia, cringe away from the light. She groaned like an elder, flopping her head to the side. That side wasn’t much better and she promptly flopped to the other. She grunted, and finally opened her eyes.

“What—”

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay,” Spencer cooed. “You're safe. Everyone is safe.”

“L-Leland?”

Spencer didn’t answer that, instead just petting through her hair. “Shh, shh. Lay back, you’re safe…”

For the past few days Lucia Silver had gone in and out of consciousness. The first few times she had launched deadly spells at hallucinated targets, forcing the Guardian Spirit Bear, Floe, to step in. The spells were crushed easily enough, but getting Lucia back to sleep was something else entirely.

Luckily, living in a dungeon, Floe had amassed hundreds of magical items and artifacts. More than a few inflicted the ailment “sleep.” She, of course, had incredible resistance and required multiple items to be used in full for her to actually fall asleep. But that was all in the past at this point.

“Honey,” Spencer spoke tenderly, “do you remember what happened?”

She did and recounted her battle in the sky above Ruinsforth. “I was flying. Overwatch. Then… then something attacked. Came out of nowhere…”

Her husband pulled her up, propping a pillow under her. “The Pathways Witch. She teleported a sizable necrotic explosion right in front of you.”

“I threw lightning at it…” Lucia shook her head. “I think I did?”

“Yes, yes you did. You cut the explosion in half, probably saving your life in the process. But then you fell. I couldn’t catch you fast enough. The Witch fought for control. I’m so sorry.”

Lucia took his hand. “It’s okay.”

“No, no it’s not.” Tears welled in Spencer’s eyes. “That Witch was stronger than me. She fought me for control of all of you. Teleported Roy away. Forced Diana to stay. She almost died because I couldn’t block either effect. Carmon… he is almost dead…”

She leaned back against the headrest of the bed. “So we lost then. What about the princess?”

Spencer didn’t answer.

“Spence?” Lucia looked at him, finding only sorrow and guilt. “What happened?”

The hardness of the question caused him to startle. He locked eyes with her, flinching away. “She was taken… along with Leland.”

“What?”

It was spoken so coldly. So devoid of emotion, that Spencer felt like ice. There was no room to run away from the question. Not that he wanted to lie to her. He had already long ago accepted that he was completely out matched by the Witch. It was his fault; what happened to Leland and Sybil. If they were dead—

No. No. They were fine.

Lucia’s eyes went soft. She had known her husband to be stoic and strong, not like a beaten puppy. Seeing him like that, it crushed her, more than she wished to admit.

“Please, what happened?”

And so Spencer told her. Everything since the opening move of the battle in Ruinsforth. Diana almost dying, Carmon as well. Jude enraging, Glenny and Leland attempting to help. Leland outing himself as a Harbinger, trying to talk down the other Harbinger. Aunty P.’s command to the Huntress to kill him, and ultimately their son getting teleported by the Witch along with Sybil. Then he explained what happened after, and how he ran, taking everyone with him.

“You ran?” Lucia seethed.

Spencer shook his head. “If I had a trace on Leland, I would have gone after him. But once Sybil was taken, Aunty P. went insane. She started demanding answers from me. She threatened to take my head right then and there. She—she pushed away the healer working on you and held a dagger to your throat, threatening to kill you if I didn’t answer her questions about Leland.”

“So you ran,” Lucia supplemented.

“So I ran,” Spencer muttered.

She pulled both of his hands into hers. “I understand. It was a hard decision and you did what you thought was right. I understand completely. Leland is fine. Sybil is fine. I—” she faltered. “I trust them not to go down without a fight. Knowing Leland, he’s probably on his way back right now, Sybil in tow.”

“Right…”

Lucia swung her legs off the bed. “So where are we now, and how are we going to find our son?”

“Inside a dungeon. The boys’ idea. This is Floe and Gelo’s home, Guardian Spirit Beasts,” Spencer helped her to her feet. “And I have a plan all ready to go. I just needed you up and walking around. Most of the enchanted items here need a lot of mana to heal people of our strength. And as it turns out, beasts can’t easily use items like that.”

They walked out of the cave-room and out into the open. They were in a forest, and far out Jude, Glenny, and the cub, Gelo, fought off a horde of fairies. Floe, the mother bear, sat a dozen paces away, watching them with Roy Brown by her side. They both turned and looked at Lucia.

“I’m going to find him, Luc,” Spencer whispered. “If I don’t, I’ll go insane.”

“When do you leave?” she asked.

“I was planning for a few weeks, but you woke up sooner than I anticipated. So. I’m leaving now.”

Lucia leaned into her husband. “Find him, Spence. Please.”

“I will.”