Curselock

Chapter 161: Irritation

Chapter 161: Irritation

Isobel’s eye twitched when Leland mumbled out a platter of identical words, each resulting in an equally identical snap of the fingers. Both the word “Fracture,” and the snap were, in her eyes, inartistic and frankly shameful. Every powerful mage she knew did not speak their spells, nor did they make gestures in the wind.

As she and Sybil watched the boy rush across the clearing, lightning following his toes, Isobel truly wondered about his “spells.” Discarding the absurdity that was divine “contracts,” the rest of his spells circled around breaking the opponent down until their soul was removed. While Legacy abilities usually had some sort of glue tying them together, she had never seen such a mishmash.

Breaking bones. Lord of Bones. Summoning crows. Lord of Crows. Slowing the enemy’s heart. Lord of, well it could be several. And lastly, tearing out souls. Lord of Souls.

What Lord had the agency over those specific aspects? If Leland was using various types of bone attacks from different Lords, then Isobel could understand. Many, say, Legacies of Fire used spells from the Lord of Lava or Lord of Heat. There was a cohesive theme, however, an easy to decipher theme.

Leland, on the other hand? Was too unique. Too specialized with too thin of links. His spells didn’t all slow, they didn’t all create crows, nor all break bones. They just... bothered the enemy until their souls were removed.

Isobel closed her eyes and shook her head. She had just watched Leland summon his crows, using them to simply dive bomb the monster. Nuance was a bygone thought to the boy, the crows had so many more uses that just “attack.”

Peeking through her eyelids, Isobel looked at Sybil. The Princess had her hands tightly clasped to her chest to the point they were paling despite her dark skin. A tremble rippled through her knees every time Leland was attacked and a resolute smile eclipsed her face every time he attacked back.

Isobel didn’t know what to think of that if she was being honest. Sometimes the girl looked as if she wished to join the battle, other times she looked like a frightened kitten. The former she chalked up to teenage angst, the latter due to Sybil’s lack of Legacy. Or Lord? Or whatever the Boneforged Monarch was going to give her.

If only there was some way to speak to the Lord in question... Isobel thought, thinking of the night prior where Leland tried to use his contract spell with the Boneforged Monarch.

It didn’t work, a fault he explained by way of nonexistent feedback. Isobel had to hand it to the kid, it was a good idea. At least partially. If he was able to contact the Lord and only received bad news, then well, then it would have been a horrible idea and Sybil’s potential death would forever weigh on his mind.

Luckily, now if she died, he’d only have his lack of power to blame. Which, with Isobel a firsthand example , was a great motivator to actually gain said power. If the loss didn’t break him, that was.

Leland did something stupid across the clearing and Isobel let out a guttural sigh. Being cynical had its advantages, but sometimes it didn’t. Now, watching the boy recover his footing, Isobel knew deep within her heart, this adventure wasn’t going to end well if she continued with the path of cynicism.

Leland was cynical enough, and, as the only adult of the group, Isobel felt the responsibility to not be.

The battle with the poisonous swarm of winged elk ended with Leland breathing heavily, six souls of the Damned kneeling around him in an arc.

Isobel let out a slow clap. “Congratulations, you have defeated the toughest enemy yet, a few deer.”

Leland glared at her. “They could fly! And spit poison!”

“So? You could fly too if you actually thought through things. You could probably spit poison as well. Contracts are just too versatile.”

Isobel watched the boy’s victory deflate out of his body, returning him to his usual state of rushed gloom. She internally grit her teeth, knowing it was her statement that did such a thing. That was not her intention, although it would have been a few weeks ago. She had to admit, she was bad at this whole mentoring thing.

“A cantrip called Memory Recall. It pretty much does as the name suggests, and lets me relive memories like they just happened.”

It was Sybil who spoke next, her breath hitched from the jog over. “What do you need to recall?”

“What the Archon said to me.”

Isobel eyed the boy emphatically. Was that really the best use of his time? Eh, she didn’t know. Not really. She was walking just as blind as he was, and well, Leland did have good ideas. The question now went to why? The Archon spoke a language none of them knew, let alone could identify. She wouldn’t be surprised if the Lord-like being spoke a language long forgotten... or perhaps not even learned in the first place.

Leland continued, “I figured if I could contract a Lord for the ability to learn, understand, or even translate languages, then with Memory Recall I could learn what it told me.”

And there it was, not practical. Isobel held off rolling her eyes. But, whatever. It was his time he was wasting. Not like casting an invisible halo would be good to have or anything...

“Would you tell me what it said?” Sybil asked. “Once you find out, of course. I’d like to know as well.”

“Sure,” Leland replied.

A foolish answer, Isobel thought. Some knowledge was better left secret, and she suspected whatever the Archon told the boy would categorically fall within such a classification.

“Come on, I’m hungry,” she said, pulling the children along before asking, “Any rank-ups?”

Silently Leland’s grimoire rotated around him into his view. He slowly flipped through the pages, reading them just as lamely.

Isobel hummed at the sight, idly annoyed at the boy’s Legacy. A tattoo of a crow but materialized as a simple tome? She had to admit, the tome was quite... foreboding. Dark, leather bound, thick with enough ancient rivets and metal trim to become a monastery’s prized treasure. It sure beat the legacy of the Hunter - a tattoo of a bow and animal trap with a materialization of a skinning knife.

Gah, how difficult it was to see if one of her abilities ranked up. The flat of the knife was simply too small to read the changes.

“Fracture is at fifteen, crows are at fourteen, slow is at thirteen, halo at fifteen and Circle of Souls at fourteen,” Leland said casually, like that information wasn’t often need to know.

But then again, Isobel did need to know and she did ask. Still, just announcing it all in front of the niece of the woman who sought to kill him nearly a week ago? The boy was dumb and too trusting.

She sighed, “Early ranks are always easiest. But it's always nice when an ability gets to the halfway mark between Legacy ranks.”

“That it does,” Leland said, smirking at the page of his book.