Warped Read online

  WARPED

  Legend Breaker Book One

  A. Hughey

  Series Reading

  Legend Breakers

  Warped

  This is a work of fiction. Any characters, events, or locations are either from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  One

  The icy wind bit into the exposed flesh on her face while terror and anger lashed out at her from the forest. She wrapped her arms around her middle as she tried to hold onto the scrap of warmth beneath her leather coat. The wind sought it out, devouring the heat until only a hollow shell remained.

  Skeletal trees loomed overhead, their empty branches hanging low. They trapped her in their midst, stalwart guardians of a long-dead legion. Cold moonlight wove through them, illuminating a faint path. Slowly, she started down it.

  All around her, the trees suddenly coming to life, rattling against each other in the howling snow. Ahead, the path seemed to grow darker and the wind more frigid. She raced down the narrow path, finally escaping onto a worn road.

  She stumbled, and as her knees hit the rocks, the silence became deafening. A tear trailed down her cheek, and she turned to stare at the forest. It was still and silent again. Down the road, the moonlight glinted off of a large iron gate.

  She rose and approached the gate. The gate’s shadows were only inches away, and her fingers hovered inches from the cold metal. A breath caught in her throat. The terror that emanated from the gate sent her bolting for the shroud of the woods.

  A flash of movement raced beside her, and she slipped on the rotting leaves. Barely catching her balance, her hands clenched into fists. Her eyes darted frantically, searching for the cause of the movement. Nothing. The forest was lifeless.

  A flash of blue blazed to her left, and she whirled around. In a narrow band of moonlight, a massive cat’s tail flicked into view before disappearing into the night.

  “Hello?” Her voice echoed in the dank stillness.

  There was no response. The forest ate her words, swallowing them like it threatened to swallow her.

  *****

  Jess stood by her bed, her eyes tightly closed while she tried to drive the nightmare out of her head. For the last two years, every night, without fail, she’d been having this nightmare. Tonight, the nightmare had changed. Now, there was the gate. Somewhere to the north, she knew the gate was waiting, and the thought made her adrenaline rise.

  Sighing, she opened her eyes and stared down at the three-hundred year old map spread over her bedside table. It had taken her two years, but she’d finally found where the curse was concealed: Boisombre.

  Boisombre was a village out of time, but more than that, it was hiding a secret of its own: a cursed prince. Despite spending nearly a week in the village, Jess had yet to find him even whispered among the villagers. Wherever he was, however the curse was hiding him, she was going to find him, destroy the curse, and free him.

  With that thought, Jess’s finger traced the rough paper to a small notation of an arrow and a faint word: chateau. Her ability to find curses pinged softly through her, bringing a throb to her head. If she found the gate, she would find him, the cursed prince. Apprehension at finding the gate clouded her thoughts, giving her a moment to doubt whether or not she wanted to continue pursuing the Beast.

  “I’ve made it this far,” she whispered to herself to shake off the anxiety. She rolled the map up and tucked it into her knapsack. As she left her room and the Inn she called home, she told herself, “I’m not giving up now — not when I’m so close. I can’t.”

  Just outside the Inn, she smiled at a group of young women walking by. Their heavy skirts swung about their legs as they pointedly turned away, shunning her. She walked through the village, stopping at the bakers where she bought three hard-crusted rolls. The first two were stowed in her knapsack, while she ate the third, savoring the taste as she wove through the small crowd.

  Dark clouds rolled over the village and overtook Jess, and the wind began to hurl her long, copper hair against her cheeks and into her eyes. She plaited her hair into a tight braid, strands escaping her deft fingers into the breeze.

  After being ignored by every villager she passed by, Jess hurried to escape the buildings and people. Out of the confines of the village, she travelled north and crossed over a narrow creek before trekking up a small hill. When the land continued curving upwards, she swung her knapsack around and pulled out a small map. On it, the land before her was supposed to be flat. Clearly it wasn’t; instead, the path peaked on a high, sharp incline. She suppressed a cry of excitement when she knew what she was seeing before her: the curse was affecting reality.

  Wheel-made ruts grew deeper the higher she climbed. The old-growth woodlands hung away from the road, and their green leaves were starting to peek out, barely shading the boulders that littered the sloping hillside.

  At the summit of the hill, she stopped to catch her breath. Now, the path before her leveled out before dipping to follow freshly plowed fields. To her right, something fluttered in the cool breeze. She knelt down beside the bright blue scrap of cloth that clung to a small stake driven deep into the earth. The ground at her knees was worn down to naked soil, kept barren with regular use. The breeze stole the scrap from her, and it settled back against the stake.

  From this angle, she saw a few broken twigs and branches bent inwards, showing a faint path beneath bare opening. Jess grasped the green core of a fractured branch, and her fingertips were damp with sap, still leaking out of the break. She smiled as she rubbed the stickiness off onto her jeans.

  Even without entering, the air felt oppressive and thick, and the cold breeze held a warning that brought her nightmare before her. Her breathing hitched as the forest seemed to grow darker the longer she looked at it. She knew from experience that the curse was trying to chase her away. Finally, she stood and settled her knapsack firmly on her back, fingers gripping the straps until her knuckles were white.

  She slid through the opening, broken branches catching on her clothes. Overhead, the sun was stymied by the thick branches. Her eyes struggled to adjust to the lack of light, and when the toe of her boot caught on an exposed root, she stumbled into a rut.

  “Damn,” she muttered

  At the bottom of the rut, her boot skittered against something too firm and smooth. Frowning, she bared the faded slate of an old, paved road. She looked up at the road winding before her. Somewhere ahead was the gate, and her breathing hitched at that thought.

  One step down the road brought a vicious wind that bit into her cheeks. She looked back at the road on the other side of the brush, and the sun still shone, bright and cheery. Here, though, the curse was in full effect. It was trying to force her to leave, but even as icy pellets dug into her skin, she refused. With a white-knuckled grip on her knapsack, she started forward. With every step, her heartbeat hammered in her chest.

  Less than a dozen paces down the road, her footsteps faltered. Something heavy and oppressive raced down the road at her. There was nothing to see, but she sensed it all the same.

  It slammed into her, almost knocking her down. Her shriek echoed off the thick trees. Head thrust back, her vision swam at the pain that spread out as she suddenly regained her ability to see curses. The curse completely surrounded her and filled the forest. Spindly shadows stretched out to her, and even as she wanted to watch them, she shoved the ability away, unable to take the pain any longer.

  “I’m not leaving!”

  At her words, the oppression withdrew into the forest.

  Ignoring the presence watching her, she continued down the road. With every step, her pulse spiked in time with anger that pulsed from the forest. After what seemed like hours of walking, she rounded a bend and came to an ornate iron gate
held in place by stone columns that towered over the surrounding trees.

  She froze at the sight before her: the aged iron gate was open a sliver. It was never open.

  Hand outstretched, she hesitated and almost touched the gate. An unnatural hoarfrost grew on the metal, the spiky patch of white ice widening while she watched. Curling her fingers to her palm, she couldn’t bare to touch it. Black shadows slithered up from the ground just beyond the gate and climbed up decorative trellises covered with dead vines. Overhead, the sky dimmed as dark clouds blotted out the sun.

  “This is it,” she whispered hoarsely. Her eyes never left the gate. “I made it.”

  She dug her nails into her palms. The pain drove away the fear and panic, but it wasn’t enough to force her forward.

  Lightning sparked as grotesque shadows warped the gate, and the skies poured rain. A wave of terror swept through her body. She took a step back, and it subsided. The only way to the castle was through the shadows. The curse projected images to her mind: pictures of her body tied to a tree, flayed and rotting.

  A shadowy figure crouched on a stone column that supported the gate. Rain poured over its hunched back. The wind whipped around the figure, catching a cloak and sending it snapping. Lightning flashed, illuminated the brilliant blue fabric.

  “Attendez!” a voice yelled, muffled beneath the crashes of thunder. A bolt of lightning struck the gate with a deafening crack.

  Her ears ringing, Jess’ instincts ripped her body from her mind, sending her careening down the road to safety.

  Two

  The bitter wind pushed her forward, beckoning her towards the gate. The frost-spiked iron was the only thing separating her from the castle looming ahead.

  She tried to corral the fear and send the dark presence away, but it refused to leave. Instead, the whispers grew louder. Unfamiliar voices screamed in her head. Images filled her mind of her body, broken on the spires of the gate. She shook her head, trying to get rid of them.

  A warm flurry of melting snow pushed her legs, compelling her walk forward. She looked down as she realized the flurry lacked the bite of the curse’s arctic gales. The warm flurry seemed to ease some of the fear, making it slightly easier to overcome. With that in mind, she stiffened her resolve and walked closer to the gate.

  A flash of blue jerked her attention to the dark woods. A dark shape circled around, winding in and out of the thick trees, disappearing in the forest. She kept trying to catch the shape that stalked her. She forced herself to still and listen for any sound that would betray the location of her stalker. Silence surrounded her. In the absence of sound, she realized that the whispers had ceased.

  “Hello?” she called hesitantly, although she knew what would happen: nothing.

  She let out a slow breath and turned back to the closed gate. She touched it. The chill bore through the gloves into her fingers.

  A noise came from behind her: the soft scuff of a footstep across the stones. Eyes darting, she only saw the dark forest. Tendrils of darkness inched towards her from beyond the gate, warning her to leave. She wanted to listen.

  *****

  Jess sat on her bed, knees drawn tight to her chest, trying to push herself into action. Her thoughts turned back to the loneliness of her nightmares. Just once, Jess wanted to have someone with her: someone to protect her and be with her. The only companions she had in them were the shadows and treachery, and it was draining and exhausting to always be on her guard.

  The Inn’s dining room was empty as Jess took a seat. A plate of bread and rolls sat untouched in the middle of a large table, and she grabbed a roll and started picking it apart. The nightmares always drove away her hunger, so she forced herself to eat.

  The Inn’s owner, Adrian, leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, arms crossed. There was a peculiar look on his face was quickly replaced by an amiable smile when he saw her attention on him.

  She watched him carefully, not trusting the broad, friendly smile. He was a mirror image of the man who’d stabbed her seven years ago, except for the missing scar. The resemblance sent a chill up her spine, despite her mental repetitions that this wasn’t Gideon — that it was impossible for him to be Gideon.

  He swaggered up to her, braced himself on the table and leaned toward her. “What are you plans today?” He touched the back of her hand with cold fingertips.

  Jess pulled away, stood, and brushed crumbs off her pants. “Same as yesterday,” she said, unwilling to tell him anything specific. “I’m just going to look around town.”

  “Do you want some company?” His voice held an Irish lilt that was nothing like Gideon’s crisp, British accent, but the tone was the same smooth tenor. Adrian ran a hand through his dark hair, mussing the short strands attractively.

  She shook her head, offering a smile that she didn’t feel. “I just need to walk by myself, to take in the vibe. Maybe next time,” she said unconvincingly. She swung her knapsack on her shoulder. She knew she was stretching the truth — she’d already taken note of the vibe in her two days here. The village was oppressive and dark, and the villagers clearly did not want her here, but perhaps there was something she missed.

  “If you change your mind, you know where to find me,” he replied. He gave her one last appraising look before he returned to the kitchen.

  She held her breath until he was out of sight, then let it out in a slow sigh. She’d been avoiding him since their first meeting, reluctant to share anything with him except the rote story that she used with everyone: she was investigating a fairy tale to write a book. Appetite gone, she pushed away from the table and hurried out of the Inn, unwilling to stay a moment longer alone with Adrian.

  Outside of the town, the sky was clear, and the wind held just a hint of spring. The closer to the hidden path, the more panic started to fill her mind. The last place she wanted to go was to the path, but if she wanted to break the curse, she had no choice. It was all connected — the nightmares, the village, and the hidden path.

  Once at the head of the hidden path, she stopped and reached up to pluck a new leaf that brushed her shoulder. Turning, she took in the spring scene, from the bright green fields dotted with sheep, to the trees now budding out in leaf and flowers. Sliding through to the other side of the path, she took in the air thick with the curse, rife with power that prevented winter from leaving. This side was far from spring, with new-fallen snow covering the crisp leaves.

  There was a dip in the snow to her right, showing her a worn trail the snow couldn’t hide. She took it, and found that the trail looped back to the village, behind the buildings and animal pens. It stopped at a large pine tree. Deep scratches marred the trunk and lower limbs, and high overhead, a platform rested on the thick branches.

  It took her a few minutes to climb the tree, but it was worth it. She could see nearly the whole town, and the tree concealed her with thick evergreen branches. It leaned towards the town, overhanging the Inn’s roof. She leaned back against the tree, and her fingers brushed something thick and soft; it was a tuft of slate gray fur.

  “What are you? Are you from the Beast?” she questioned.

  Letting the tuft fall, she saw a square of fabric tucked in a hollow where a branch had long since broken off. She unfolded it and found a large, wool blanket covered with sparse, gray fur. Her eyes went from the blanket to the town center, and the realization made her heart ache. Unlike the hostility and contempt of the village, here, she felt despair and a desire for companionship from someone utterly alone. She pulled the blanket to her chest and closed her eyes. Someone sat up here, wrapped in the blanket. Someone who was unwelcome in the town itself. She refolded it and tucked it into the small hollow.

  Thirty feet below, Adrian and a stout man with a blond beard stood talking loudly. Adrian tried to hand the man a dark wicker basket. It was empty, save something wrapped in red fabric.

  “You know what to do to appease the leshy,” Adrian said.

  “It’s your turn.”


  Adrian scowled. “I’ve done it the last two months. My supplies are running low. You own the bakery, so take your turn.” He shoved the basket at the man.

  He refused it. “You have a traveler. Charge her more. She can likely afford it.”

  “If I do, she’ll leave, just like the last,” he said.

  Jess frowned. She held her breath, wanting to hear more. A gust of cold wind shook the tree, and her fingers dug into the bark. She glanced down at the blanket, neatly folded, but brought her attention back to the two men with interest.

  The man took the basket, grabbing the handle with just his thick fingertips. “What’s this?”

  “Something I need you to keep for me, with payment.”

  The man held up a worn coin and glanced sharply at Adrian. He tucked the coin into a leather purse and gave a curt nod.

  Adrian smiled coldly. He started to walk away, but turned back with a glare. “Don’t forget about the leshy. I don’t want to make him angry, and neither do you.”

  “Don’t lecture me about it, boy.” The man’s face grew red as the blush deepend. “I’ve known about it long before you were born.”

  Ignoring the man’s final comments, Adrian stalked off. He disappeared from view, and Jess heard the door to the Inn slam shut.

  She waited ten long minutes to leave the tree, planning her next move. Quietly, she scampered down the tree, smiling as she recalled her father teaching her this very skill. Snow fell around the boughs, softly falling on her shoulders. Spring was just ahead, and she slipped through a narrow alley between to houses. Not a foot from the ugly band of winter, spring waited and melted the snow she carried with her.

  Inside the Inn, Adrian raged in the kitchen, slamming pots and pans down with such noise that she easily avoided his attention and made her way to her room. There, she was able to think, ignoring the sounds of his temper below.