A Hero's Curse (23 page)

I hear the daemon shift in front of me. “Leonatrix. You think you are clever. Always sending someone else to do the work.” A leathery rasping sound, like a tent being folded comes from the daemon. “So you destroyed the Cauldron with sunfire? I presumed sunfire no longer existed in this world. How did you manage to find some? Stealing again?”

“Enough of your banter, daemon,” the queen is brisk. “Essie, you can destroy this daemon immediately. I can help you channel the energy of the sunfire. Repeat the words ‘staed reth.’”

The words ring in my ears. “S-s-taed reth,” I stammer. An enormous thump is followed by the daemon’s ragged, raven-like scream.

“You have immobilized him for the moment. Forward child, touch the daemon, and he will be finished.” Rocks grind behind me, and the ground heaves. I am thrown off balance and fall to my hands and knees.

“Essie!” screams Illiana. I lurch back to my feet and stagger a few steps forward. I can sense something large in front of me. I hear the heavy breathing.

“Leonatrix isn’t telling you everything, girl. She rarely tells all.” The daemon’s smooth voice is close. I smell rotting flesh. A wave of nausea passes over me. I stumble again as the ground drops. I try to stand but can’t. I crawl forward with one arm outstretched, the globe throbbing gently, hot in my hand.

“Not only will I be undone but so will you,” says the daemon.

I hesitate. No, I guess the queen didn’t mention that. “Your majesty?” I ask.

There is a second’s pause, and then, “Of course, child,” Queen Leonatrix snaps. She sounds as if she has been holding her breath. “You are lost already. Cauldron’s Crater is collapsing. Destroy the monster.” I shake my head. “Quickly, Essie, you have seconds to act!” shrieks the queen.

As if confirming this statement the ground under me drops again and tilts at a crazy angle. “You must destroy the daemon!”

“She
still
fails to tell you, girl. You have not yet touched sunfire. You may have been near it, but you have not touched it. It would kill you just as it would me. Just as I am a creature of the dark so you have the dark in you. It is a part of who you have become.” I bite my lip. I wanted to see Dad. I wanted to ask him why he didn’t at least tell me. I reach out again and crawl forward.

“So you would kill us.” The daemon sounds only feet away. “Of course you should. I am chaos and darkness, but,” the oily voice drops an octave, “your father decided to let me go.”

My heart catches in my mouth and I stop crawling. “H-how—”

“H-h-how,” mocks the daemon in a voice that sounds exactly like my own. “You had been cursed by the Daemon’s Dusk.”

“I know!” I scream. “You tricked him, and he gave it to me!” Hot tears pour down my face, and I hate the thing in front of me. This is the cause of all the hurt and the questioning and loneliness and darkness I have faced. It chuckles. I choke on another scream and scramble forward. I don’t care if I die, this daemon will go as well.

“Your father let me go because I am the only one who can remove Daemon’s Dusk.” The hot breath washes over me. Sickening, nauseating, rotting. I can feel the breath on my hand, still outstretched.

“What do you mean?” I whisper.

“When your miserable father transferred the curse to you he could instantly see again,” snarls the daemon in such a fierce tone I instinctively jerk backward. “He, too, used sunfire. He took advantage of the moment and could have destroyed me. Sunfire would have been my demise.” The daemon pauses. I can’t move. The ground shifts again, and I feel myself slide a few feet away from the daemon.

The smooth voice is back, high and oily again. “In that second I saved myself. I told him the truth. I told him that only I could remove the Daemon’s Dusk.”

“You lied!” I scream, but without the conviction I had a few moments ago.

“Kill the daemon, Essie!” the queen rages.

“I did not lie! Leonatrix will tell you, even now, only the caster can remove Daemon’s Dusk! I broke your pitiful father’s will. He made me swear to remove the Daemon’s Dusk in exchange for my life.
Then
I lied.”

“Leonatrix? Your majesty?” I shout. “Is it true?”

“What does it matter, child, you are dead! You will
never
see! Kill the daemon!” I try to crawl forward again, but my will is too broken. Seconds ago my life seemed a small price to pay, but the thing in front of me has found a desire deeper than my life. The desire to make things right with Dad. To fit in. To remove the curse. It is all one.

“I just want to see!” I sob.

I hear the ground under me groan again and the tilt adjusts the other direction. The whole area feels like it is floating. The ground rolls and tosses me a few inches to the right. I hear a thud in front of me and feel the ground shake.

“Essie, again,” the queen shouts, “‘staed reth!’ He is getting away!”

“Please?” I scramble to my feet. “Remove the curse?” Huge feet tromp toward me, stopping just out of reach. I hear a rasp and the sound of the wind playing with its leathery wings. A roar and hot fetid breath hits my face, and I topple backward.

“Your father did not choose to transfer the Dusk to you. He chose the woman. I chose you. And so as I escaped last time your father also attempted to bargain.”

The daemon laughs, and I feel the spray hit my face. He leans in close and drops his voice to a whisper. “I do not bargain well. Listen to me, all of you, I have not been beaten. Only delayed. I am chaos. I am darkness. I am pain. There are no heroes in my wake, only broken husks. We will not meet again, Essie Brightsday.”

I feel a blast of wind and the ground heaves in front of me as the daemon prepares to launch himself into the air. “I will not remove your curse. You will die in my darkness.”

I make my decision. The sunfire in my hand is losing its heat. I clench my fist as hard as I can, crushing the capsule in my hand. The warmth runs up my arm and through my body. The heat, the noise, the fear slow to a crawl and then to a stop. My pain and blindness fade. White light invades my darkness. I launch myself at the daemon, arm stretched as far as I can reach with no thought for coming back to earth. I will not die in darkness. I will die in light.

He should have been there, but he isn’t. I hit the ground hard, unready, and it knocks the breath out of me. He chuckles from my left.

“You may be resourceful, Essie Brightsday, but I am not without my tricks. Never trust an illusion.” The rock under me cracks and shatters as he leaps into the air, the leathery beat of his wings carrying the daemon further off to my left. The sound is quickly drowned by the grating of rock and earth. I hear a splashing behind me.

“The Cauldron, Essie.” It’s Illiana. “The whole area looks about to boil.”

I collapse to my hands and knees again. “Where can I go? Illiana! Help me!”

“I’m so sorry, Ess,” Illiana sobs. “I don’t know. You’re trapped. You’re too close to the edge, move a step to your right . . . there. I shouldn’t have helped you leave Aeola.”

I feel the land I am on heave again. I lay down to keep from tipping over an edge I can’t see. “My dad let him go, too,” I say, mostly to myself.

“Yes,” says Queen Leonatrix, “he was a greater fool than I thought.”

“He wanted to make things right.”

“In the moment it mattered most he failed,” snarls the queen. I let the portal slip toward the edge of my floating chunk of ground.

“Most of us do, at some point,” I say. “Goodbye, Illiana. It was good meeting you. I wish we could have done more.” I think of Dad. My thoughts are tumbling over each other like the ground around me. He loved me.

“Goodbye, Essie,” Illiana whispers. The portal slides away, dropping off the ledge. I roll onto my back and let my body go limp. Almost done. I wish I could have told Dad that now I know. It doesn’t make it okay. But it helps.

“Essie!” I bolt upright. Tig. I feel the beat of the air again, but this time it is the rustle of smooth feathers above me. Lem. His hooves pound down next to me.

“I’m going to kneel for you. Just this once and don’t tell anybody I did it!” he says. I reach out and find him on the ground at my level.

I clamber up and pat the glossy hide on his neck. “Thanks.” I bury a hand in Lem’s mane and grip with my knees. Lem scrambles to his feet, and I feel him crouch for the takeoff.

I reach around and rub Tig’s back. “It’s good to have you back.”

“If you don’t mind,” says Tig, and I feel him bury his claws in my leather belt. I once thought that Tig’s most important role in my life was as my eyes. In this moment I know differently. Tig is first and foremost my best friend. Lem launches himself into the air, and Tig groans. The rumbling behind us grows louder, followed by a deafening crack. I grab Lem’s mane with both hands and yelp. Even my feet kick convulsively. Lem springs forward, urged on more by the sounds behind us than my feet, I’m sure.

Tig yowls. “Lightning!” I want to ask more, but we are doing all we can to hold on while Lem pounds the air with his wings, soaring over the crunching rock.

Another crack. “Tig, what is it?”

“The biggest clouds I’ve ever seen,” yells Tig. I hear him hiss and spit. “There’s a downpour starting over the Cauldron. It’s starting to flood. I never thought I’d say this. Lem, turn up the speed!” Tig describes the scene. The rain pours over the Burning Cauldron and spreads outward in a wave. Lem has his neck stretched out and his head low. I lean forward over his neck. My hair is whipping behind me, but I can’t do anything but hang on now.

Lem slows when we pass the remains of the daemon’s army. The crumbling ground has caught up with them, and Tig says it looks like most have been swallowed. The rest are running from the flood that is following. Over the rush of wind I tell Lem and Tig what the daemon said at the Cauldron. They take the story in and don’t try to bombard me with questions afterward. Sooner than I think is possible Lem yells over his shoulder, “We’ve almost left the Gray Wastelands. We’re passing the cliffs.”

“Lem,” I yell, “go to Plen!” Lem banks hard, and we rush away from the Gray Wastelands, away from the Valley of Fire, and over the low hills—all just ahead of the rains. We can’t get far enough ahead for Tig. I smell the rain behind us. So does Tig. I hope the rain catches us. I would love to feel a downpour. I get the impression, however dry it has been, Tig doesn’t.

“This will probably change things,” says Lem over the beat of his wings. “With time the wastelands will be plains and swamp again. The floods in Aeola will recede.”

“All that water,” groans Tig. “We had it so good in the desert.”

I
smell the smoke well before we arrive.

“The smoke is Plen?” asks Lem.

“It must be,” says Tig. “It’s in the right place.” I don’t have long to worry about it.

Soon Lem slows, and I feel him drop what must be quite a few feet and then, “Hold on,” and we hit the ground at a run. He slows to a trot and then from a trot to a walk.

“Tig?” But Lem answers my question.

“We are on the outskirts of Plen, Essie.”

I start, and my hand grips Lem’s mane tighter. “Already?”

Lem blows a breath that sounds like a chuckle. “Yes, already. Traveling on the wind is faster than tunnels.” He tosses his head. “I cannot stay. The Exarus are not welcome in this kingdom.” Shouts from the city sound far off. I can smell the smoke, but it isn’t blowing this direction. The wind is to our backs, blowing out to sea. I wrap my hands in Lem’s thick mane to slip off. My hands are trembling again.

“Hey, shorty,” Lem says, and I pause. “Maybe I’ll get to see you again.”

“I hope so.”

“Who knows, you still may get your sight back someday.”

For the first time, I know how to respond. “I’m okay with who I am.”

“Kitten . . .” Lem pauses, searching for the right words, “you’re as annoying as I imagined you would be. But you’re Essie’s friend, so I might not step on you the next time we meet.”

“I don’t like you, either,” says Tig in a good natured tone. I slip down Lem’s side. I can hear the fire now. It sounds like the roar of some unchained monster. But on the back of my neck I feel a breath of cool, and I can taste the moisture in the air. Another shout comes from the direction of the city, this one closer and directed at us.

“Essie Brightsday, you’re one of a kind. Don’t forget us.” I hear Lem take a couple of steps back and feel a blast of air as he pushes himself off the ground.

“I won’t!” I shout. He wheels around, and I know he will try to get above the storm. It is coming fast. I turn and start forward, not waiting for Tig’s direction.

“Time to get quiet again,” says Tig.

“Yeah, right. That’ll be a first.”

“Straight ahead, girl.”

I nod. “Let’s go find them.”

“I say let’s get inside before the rain gets here!” Tig yowls. I break into a trot, heading for the city.

“Hold!” a masculine voice shouts from in front of us. “The city’s on fire! You need to leave while you can, girl!”

“I am looking for Killian or Keira Brightsday!” I shout back.

“The commanders and any who can wield magic are battling the inferno. None can enter the city. Turn back!”

“Tell him I’ve brought something greater than magic!” There is a pause and a small wooden door bangs open.

“Come here, girl.” He hesitates as I trot forward. I feel the heat now, hear the splitting of timbers, the falling of stone. “What’s your name, lass?”

“Essie Brightsday, daughter of First Champion Killian Brightsday.”

The guard lets out a loud breath. “You don’t say. By my beard . . . and I don’t even have a beard.” He turns and shouts back over his shoulder, “You, boy, run as fast as you can to the plaza in front of Keeper’s Bridge, tell Commander Killian that his daughter is here. Essie Brightsday. Go!”

I have come right up to the gate now. A big hand takes my own before he calls out to other guards to come over. Turning back to me he says, “We can’t stay here. It’s too dangerous for the both of us, lass. Most everyone has gotten out of the city. It’s Cairns Fire. When it gets to the right size it erupts. There won’t be nothing left of Plen. There’s only a few of us left doing what we can to slow it down, but it don’t look good. I’m sorry, but I’ve got to get you out of here in a hurry.”

I pull out of his hand. “I can’t do that. I need to see Mom and Dad, Keira and Killian. I’m not leaving again.”

“I’m sorry, lass, I can’t risk it,” he says. Several other heavy feet bound over to the guard. “We need to get her out of the city,” the guard says. “She’s Keira and Killian’s daughter.” A murmur runs through the group, and I feel my face go hot. Two sets of hands scoop me up and start trotting me back out the gate.

“You all go with her. Get out of here. We won’t last much longer. Keep pushing as many folks out of this end of the valley as you can.” Several more pairs of boots join us as the whole group starts at a quick jog back up the road. I kick and scream at the top of my lungs. Another pair of hands grabs my feet.

One of the guards curses. “Crazy cat! Get out of here!” That’s when I hear them.

“Stop!” Dad. The guards stop and set me down.

“Essie!” Mom screams. I wrestle out of the hands on my shoulders and stagger forward.

Tig spits at someone and bounds over to my side. A gust of air catches my hair, and I smell the rain again. Sharp and crisp and tingly.

Two sets of feet, one heavy, one light, come through the gate at a run. I have never run in my life. But now I can’t not run. I throw my arms open wide and race back toward my parents.

They catch me at the same time, and we all collapse in the road. We are laughing. Or crying. I don’t know which. Tig jumps up into the middle with us. Mom has my face in her hands, and Dad’s huge arms are around us all. Not awkward, not tense. Just fierce.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hello, Brightstar.” Dad pulls me in close. His shoulders are shaking. Then he lets me breathe again. I feel him studying me. I run my hands over his face. His eyes are wet. One ear and the side of his head is covered with a wound only a few days old. It isn’t hot. It’s clean. Not infected.

“I know about the daemon, Dad,” I blurt.

I feel a tremor run through his arms, and his eyes get squinty. “I-I-I’m so sorry, Ess.” Dad’s jaw is trembling, so he clenches it hard. I feel his eyebrows furrow and his forehead wrinkle. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you a long time ago. I didn’t want you to hate me.”

“I know.” I run a hand over his chin. He hasn’t shaved in about a month. His beard is full and untrimmed. “You look good in a beard, but I can’t see your face as well.”

“It’ll have to go.”

“I know about the daemon’s trick,” I say. Dad just nods, not trusting himself to speak.

“You should have killed him,” I say.

Here Dad nods his head. “I know.”

“We have to get away from Plen,” Mom interrupts.

“Leave the city!” shouts Dad over my shoulder. “Move the last of them out!”

A drop the size of Tig’s paw hits the top of my head. “Dad, I brought something.”

He hesitates. Another drop hits him, and I feel part of the splash on my own face.

“Rain.” I look up and another large drop hits my cheek. That’s when I hear the music. Not loud. Just snatches. Another drop hits my face. And another. And another. The pieces of music somehow start to meld together. It is so beautiful and gentle and sharp that I hold my breath. “
Music is stronger than magic,
”
says Illiana’s voice in my head.

The patter around us is only the beginning. I hear the storm coming now. The sound is competing with the inferno in the city. Now the raindrops are all around. Soft and cool and wonderful. Dad pulls me into a hug and holds on tight. I push away so that I can feel his face again. He still holds my shoulders.

“We destroyed the Burning Cauldron. I tried to kill it, too, but it—it got away.”

“How, Ess?” Dad’s voice drops a little bit.

“I had sunfire. I tried to destroy him. He told me about the Daemon’s Dusk, and why you let him go last time, because he said he would remove the curse. I tried, Dad. I’m sorry, I couldn’t do it. And then it was too late. He got away.”

I feel Dad’s face. No more wrinkles in the forehead. His mouth is open. He closes it. “Brightstar, I’m the one who’s sorry.” His voice gets choked up, and he can’t talk for a minute. “It sounds like you have quite a story,” he says, a rasp in his voice.

That makes me smile. “Yeah. I guess.” Dad pulls me back into a hug, and I let him. I feel more toward Dad than ever. I can’t sort it out. It’s all mixed up. But I feel his arms tight around me, and I know he won’t let go this time. Tig yowls from in between us and mutters that he can’t believe we are just standing out in the rain. Mom brushes a strand of hair from my face and tucks it behind my ear.

“Essie Brightsday,” she whispers, “welcome to the world of color.”