When Yashik awoke, the morning sun had risen above the level of the castle walls, and now shone into the inner courtyard of the manor where he rested. The warm light contrasted with the cool, loamy earth, and he breathed deep lungfuls of crisp, autumn air as he stood and stretched his great arms wide.
Skyrik leaned nonchalantly against the bolder, twin blades gleaming. He had handled the transition from human to enchanted object better than most in the castle. Yashik didn’t know how his friend had managed to choose his shape, but he suspected that his mother had been involved somehow. The boy had fought against the curse, retaining his humanity far longer than most of those trapped within the dark magic. It had been nearly a year from when the twisted bear had driven him into the bounds of the castle to when he had gone to bed human, and woken up an axe.
Yashik still remembered the feeling of hope dying in his chest when his friend had been uncharacteristically late for breakfast, and he had discovered the double-bit battle ax resting in Skyrik’s bed. It turned out that after a year of crafting weapons and armor for the war against the creatures of the forest, the young blacksmith had decided to vent his frustrations about not being able to assist directly in battle by forging himself into a weapon custom-made for the Baron.
Like some, but not all, of the castle inhabitants, Skyrik had retained his power of speech after a fashion. He was able to project his thoughts, “speaking” directly to Yashik’s mind. Which was incredibly useful when attempting to be stealthy in the forest, and it was an ability which had allowed them to wreak even more havoc on their enemies. With the previously fragile body replaced with one of magical steal, Yashik no longer hesitated to take his friend into battle, and the two of them had been an unstoppable force in the woods for years before the curse had begun to grow beyond their ability to snuff out its victims as soon as they appeared.
“I was beginning to think you had decided to turn into a boulder, and start a family with that one you fell asleep on.” The axe-form of his best friend berated him. “How’s the shoulder? You ready for an expedition? I’ve been getting some information from your mother, I can’t say for sure but I think there’s something going on in the forest she wants us to check out.”
Yashik groaned as he stretched his previously injured shoulder. It rotated without effort, fully healed except for the jagged scar that now stretched across his chest. The dark magic that had mutated him into this monstrous form had also gifted him with an intense vitality that the alterations of the baroness had only enhanced. Given time, he could heal from almost any wound, never falling ill or suffering from extremes in temperature. He supposed that, as far as curses went, monstrous strength and health were not the worst thing that could happen.
The equally monstrous appearance and the forced isolation were not ideal, but he occasionally had to remind himself that his situation could be worse. Even within the castle, he still had the freedom of movement that many of the chairs and cabinets would envy, were they still capable of that level of thought. Or I could be an axe, and some blubbering oaf could be using me to smash monsters all day. He grinned at the thought as he hefted Skyrik and headed to the front gate.
He was not completely healed from all his injuries, but he ignored the slight twinges coming from the still tender areas as he donned a spare set of armor from the forge on his way by. The young blacksmith had made several sets and assorted pieces before he changed, and after he had, the magic that ruled the castle had become capable of repairing anything left in the forge long enough. Which was fortunate since he lacked the dexterity to do some of the finer work, especially on the brigantine.
He broke into an easy jog as he left the castle grounds, letting general feelings of direction from the axe in his hand guide him. After several miles, he found himself deep in the forest, and a warning hum from Skyrik brought him to a cautious halt. Stealth was not his specialty, but he had learned enough woodcraft to move through the trees without excess noise when he had to. Doing so now, he focused his senses, looking for any hint of what he had been sent out to find.
It took only a few minutes of cautious movement before he smelled blood. Human blood. With the utmost care, he stalked closer to the scent. Perhaps another survivor of the night attack had been drawn in by the curse? Yashik didn’t know exactly where the borders of the magic were, only that they shifted and changed, and had been expanding over time. Also, the range from which he and the other denizens could roam was different from the proximity to the castle that prevented those drawn in from finding their way out. His mother had set the ward on the castle to confuse any who approached it who were not already under the spell. But she had also anchored all those afflicted to the castle as well, so that they could not go far from the grounds without suffering immensely.
This is one of the reasons he had been slowly losing his battle against the fiends. Their compulsion to drive or drag new victims into the tainted ground drove them past the point of madness, and they could venture further out from the castle than he could. He had tried a few times, but the intense pain had rendered him barely able to move, and the damage it had done to his body could still be seen in the mottled ruin of his skin. But as the creatures grew stronger and more numerous, the restrictions his mother had placed weakened.
So now he found himself in an area where he and the creatures could freely inhabit, but would not trap someone who wandered into it. Therefore, if there was an untainted, living human here, it might be possible to send a message to the outside world! His heart pounded in his chest at the sudden realization, and he lost a great deal of caution as he leapt forward.
Hope died in his chest as he spotted the corpse of the hunter, mangled and bloody. It leaned against a tree, barely recognizable as a person anymore, and Yashik couldn’t even tell at first glance if they had been male or female until he got closer. The woman at his feet had not died without a fight, bloody knives were gripped in both hands, the earth torn from the struggle. From the blood painted across the scene, it appeared that there had been several bodies as well, which were now gone.
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He frowned at that observation, senses returning to full alert. Why leave this body here but take the rest? Speaking aloud, he consulted his friend. “Sky, can you sense anything? Something isn’t right here.”
“I agree, but I'm not, wait…”
Before Skyrik could finish the thought, the answer to his question came from the trees. The woods around him came alive with howls, roars, and monstrous sounds that were not of the natural world. Tricked and trapped, like a damn fool! Bubbling rage erupted in his chest at his own blunder, and the audacity of these damned monsters. The Beast that lurked inside him rattled the bars of its prison as Yashik threw back his head, and with an answering roar, set the Monster free.
******
MIles away, Krosa was waking up in a soft bed, totally unaware of the dire peril her rescuer was in. Groggy, she took several minutes realizing where she was, then remembering how she got there. Another several minutes of mental acrobatics as she tried very hard not to break down in tears or lose her mind to panic, and she was out of the bed and getting dressed. There was no time for any of that, not when she had work to do. From her memory, Dyrik spoke to her. “You’re going to find yourself in over your head, more than once. When that happens, focus your mind and your will. If there’s a job to do, do it. If there’s a mission, accomplish it. If there isn’t, make one, find one. You take care of the task at hand, and that will pull you through until your head’s up and you can breathe again. When you don’t know where to go, go forward.”
So she went forward. Out the door, down the hall, down the broad stairs, and right back to the dining room. Because while Dyrik would advise her to strive for a goal, Gost would always insist that in times of great strife, it was usually best to grab a snack before taking action. The table was again filled with delectable foods, just as it had been the night before. The talking candlestick she had met over dinner was absent, but she supposed that made sense as there was ample light coming in through the windows high in the walls.
The candlestick had introduced itself as Kerti, a merchant who had been dragged in by the curse several years past. He had been on his way to Provints to sell fine silver goods, when the beasts had attacked him on the road. His pack animals had become twisted abominations, and he had been pursued to the gates of the castle where the creatures had let him be. After a matter of months, he’d transformed into the elaborate silver candlestick that had kept her company over dinner.
Thinking back on it, she had been surprised how little the overall experience had bothered her. The last year had been a constant barrage of strange and wonderful and horrifying new experiences, and by now she almost felt like she could take new strangeness in her stride. As she ruminated, she also felt a slight sensation that tingled at the back of her mind. Calming, reassuring, it connected to a deep part of her that remembered running into her mother’s arms, being swept up in a warm embrace, and held like she was the most precious thing in the world. She had never felt safer or more secure than in those moments, so confident that everything was going to be alright.
A single tear escaped down her cheek, but she also felt a sudden grim certainty that what she was feeling was not coming from her own nostalgia. Closing her eyes, she concentrated, and felt the alien presence of another’s will pressing against her own. It was that pressure that she was feeling as a mental hug, a comforting warmth on her soul. Kerti had told her that the castle had a way of easing the curse, of making those caught in it feel better, no matter how desperate the situation.
The effect reminded her of a plant that she knew, which grew on vines and produced a dazzling blossom. The leaves could be dried and made into a tea, which calmed any who drank it. Her own ventures into herbalism were more focused on common cooking herbs, as she had no interest in brewing potions or any alchemical pursuits beyond keeping her father’s infernal machine running. But it was impossible to study plants without learning about such things, and now she felt a fire light behind her eyes as she began to consider the wider implications of such knowledge when magic was involved.
She realized that she had been mostly learning what she could do with the plants themselves, shaping them into tools and weapons that she was already familiar with, trying to match characteristics to the intended use but not going much beyond that. But there was so much more and she was just now beginning to see it. Why make a spear when you could make a poison spear? Alter an herb that produces a mild effect in a tea to release that effect across a broad area? The possibilities were mind-boggling.
The puzzle in her head that she had labeled “magic” transformed in scale and complexity as pieces fell into place. Visualizing it that way, she could now see far more of the total picture, but also could now see how much was missing, how many gaps there were in her knowledge. Gaps that she would have to fill, somehow.
The entire time she had been lost in thought, she had also been methodically and thoroughly breaking her fast on the t assortment of tasty items that seemed to be a fixture on the great dining table. She washed down the last of a perfectly-baked roll with water that somehow stayed cold no matter how long it sat in the warm room, and stood from her seat. She had checked it for signs of life before she sat down, and now checked it again, just to be sure. Ordinary chair, no face, good.
She had a mission now; to explore the castle, gather resources, learn more magic, and overcome this curse from the inside. Or die trying, although death was not the ideal outcome. To be honest, while some might consider an eternity as furniture to be a fate worse than death, Krosa wasn’t sure she agreed. Kerti hadn’t seemed too unhappy, all things considered. As if part of him had always been a talking candlestick.
That may be the result of the calming influence she could still feel at the edge of her consciousness, or it may be an innate pragmatism, but she felt sure that if she transformed into a soup tureen or something equally ridiculous, she would try to make the best of it. Thoughts of what furniture form might best suit her personality distracted her as she wandered the castle halls, cautiously poking her head into room after room.
She made a circuit of the first floor, coming back to the dining hall and the kitchens that lay behind it. Pushing open the sturdy oak door at the back of the kitchen, she walked out into a paradise of greenery, her mouth agape at the discovery of the inner courtyard garden. The warm feeling grew stronger as she passed tangles of flowers and vines and trunks, leaves brushing against her skin as she inhaled the intoxicating scents of the herbs that grew all around.
Following the path, her feet guided her through the maze of growing things, until she emerged into an open space and saw the well. Breathless, she approached the conflagration of vine and bloom that grew from the center of the garden, recognizing that this plant was the source of the feeling in her mind. Thorns gleamed with sharp menace from the tangle, and flowers blossomed in abundance in its upper reaches.
She had never seen anything like it. And although she had spent much of her life talking to plants, this was the first time one talked to her.
“Welcome, child. Please sit.”
Before the being she knew deep in her bones was the Baroness of the castle, mistress of the cursed domain she was trapped in, and arbiter of her immediate fate, Krosa sat with a thump.