The Shadow Curse

by Kala Merseal

  Moments passed before Arlow broke the silence, reminding the others that his talent—at least one of them— was disturbing the quiet peace.

  “What’s the plan, Rae?”

  Raethin sat opposite of Ara, his legs crossed as he leaned back on his hands. His hair matted to his sweaty face. Ara watched as he took a deep breath and dug around in his pack, retrieving a map, a scroll, and an envelope.

  “When Kava Sil and Viloth fell to the Kaevari,” Raethin began, “King Raifeld and his council came together to plan for Therilea’s inevitable demise. One day, Raifeld said, the demons would attack, and we had to ensure that the Crown survived. No matter the cost. Raifeld commanded his royal guard to ensure the Heir’s safety and chose to stay behind for the survival of the capital. Unfortunately, we do not know if he succeeded — and may never know.”

  The commander unrolled the map, settling rocks along its corners to keep it open. Everyone leaned forward and studied a crude diagram of Therilea and the Rakevan Forest. Its perimeters expanded to nearly half the kingdom’s territory, sandwiched between the left section of Therilea and the ocean. The area where they exited the castle’s escape tunnels and the center of the forest were both marked.

  “I come from Siv’Neh, south of the Forest,” Raethin said and circled with his finger an area underneath the forest’s line. “The woods-folk have lore of the druidic people, and a few older elves claim they’ve met druids. It may be far-fetched to say that we can call on the Rakeva’s kin for help, but given that this plan was for the most dire of circumstances, then it is either find the druids, escape to the coast, or be hunted down by the Kaevari anyway.”

  Ara knew the tales of the forest immortals. Her mother loved the legends and told stories to Ara during her childhood. The lore told these druids, born the depths of Rakeva’s heart, were brought to this realm to flourish the lands and protect Theron’s mortal children. But over the eras, the druid-kin became reclusive and faded into myth. Travelers of the Rakevan Forest throughout the ages claim to have met the druids but they were just stories—for no druid ever walked among the elves and humans.

  “How are we to find these people?” Ara asked.

  Raethin thumbed the scroll and then handed it to her.

  Ara unrolled the parchment and as Raethin spoke, she read over a poetic manuscript depicting the calling upon of the druid-kin.

  “We must follow Rakeva’s creatures to the forest’s heart. If the creatures consider us worthy, then the druids will reveal themselves.”

  “That is vague,” Ara retorted and handed the scroll back to Raethin.

  He scowled.

  “The creatures will reveal themselves in time as we continue.”

  “When are we to do that?” Max piped in. “The day is bright and hot and the Kaevari thrive and hunt at night.”

  Raethin rubbed his eyes. He leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees.

  “If we rest during the night, then we are still a target for demons,” Raethin mused. “It would be difficult to rest given that we would all be alert, watching for demons to attack.”

  “Then you suggest we move at night?” Ara frowned and met Raethin’s eyes. “It would be easy to get separated or lost in the dark.”

  “We are already lost, Princess,” Raethin said. “No one has true directions in this Forest. The only way to find our destination is to go north. As for getting separated, we will walk in a compacted circle. If need be, we can all hold a rope.”

  “We would have an easier time to rest during the day then,” Arlow said.

  Raethin nodded. “We have approximately twelve hours of daylight. We were trained to survive off a few hours of sleep, but the ladies will need longer periods of rest. I estimate that most of the day will be resting and eating, and toward dusk we can begin our nightly travels.”

  “And what if the Kaevari attack?” Ara asked.

  “Then at least we will have the energy and alertness needed to respond.”

  The others mumbled in agreement, and though Ara had her objections, she caved and fell quiet. Maybe her irritation was a reaction to her terror. The quite real chance that these creatures lurked in the shadows, awaiting dusk to hunt the Therilean refugees sent her stomach into tumbling knots that threatened to spill in waves.

  She gulped down her water and approached the creek to refill. When she stood from bending down to the water, she found Arlow standing beside her.

  “Are you alright, Princess?”

  Ara hesitated, pursing her lips.

  “Terrified but alive.”

  “Don’t worry, Princess. We’ll keep you safe.” Arlow’s grin had almost convinced her that he spoke the truth.

  Ara nodded and glanced over her shoulder. The others had reclined against their knapsacks, resting with cloth shielding their eyes and Nyphelia had retreated to the tent. Raethin sat upright, his eyes combing through the surrounding trees.

  Arlow’s smile widened. “I know Rae can be a hard-ass but he’s worried about survival. Try not to let it get to you.”

  Ara swallowed and shrugged, ignoring Arlow’s prying. She left and went to the tent and found Nyphelia already fast asleep inside. Ara laid on her bedroll and stared up at the tent’s pointed fabric ceiling, her stomach tightening in knots as she thought back on the last several hours.

  Tears swelled when she thought of her mother and father and her kingdom, their bodies ripped apart and decaying with the plague’s miasma. Quickly, Ara squeezed her eyes shut and took deep breaths to calm her heart. In time she found her mind drifting to restless sleep.

  What awaited her in her dreams were terrors of what might have happened back in Verisca. Of her father, cut down by a horned Kaevari, the king’s blood spraying across the demon’s face, coating its horns. The creature turning, its eyes gleaming as a black tongue darted from between its fangs to lick up the drips of blood. Its grin as her name formed on its lips.

  ♦♦♦

  A gentle shake woke Ara up. Her eyes fluttered open, catching a glimpse of Nyphelia as the elven woman leaned back on her knees. The late afternoon sun hovered below the tree-lines, flashing orange rays into Ara’s vision through the tent’s flaps.

  Ara blinked and pulled herself upright.

  “They’re ready to move out,” Nyphelia said. “I’ll help you roll up your bed.”

  Ara slid on her boots and straightened her leather tunic, grimacing as the material stuck to her sweaty skin. Then with Nyphelia’s help, they rolled up their bedrolls and left the tent, handing the packed blankets to Arlow. Veron tore down the tent and rolled it onto his backpack.

  Raethin stood further away from the creek, studying the shadows that tailed the fleeting sunlight. For now, there were no signs of danger. He gestured for them to hurry up and paced along the creek bank. The group set out once they finished refilling their canteens and packing their bags.

  Terror still tinged every action they took. Ara’s stomach roiled in continuous knots. Nyphelia clutched the princess’s hand like it was her only lifeline while the soldiers were stiff and eerily silent.

  Soon, the sun dipped out of sight, drowning them in the dim night. The waning moon replaced the daylight, but it was not enough to guide them well around obstacles. The soldiers managed better but Ara and Nyphelia struggled and slowed down the group. Often, they tripped over rocks and roots and held onto each other to keep from scuffing the ground.

  The ground dipped into a trench and Ara’s feet tangled with a mess of roots and rocks on the decline. An arm shot out, gripping her waist before she plummeted face-first into the hole.

  Through her mess of hair, Ara looked up and caught the commander’s hooded stare, moonlight streaming across his strong jaw and smooth nose. His lips curled down.

  Raethin hefted Ara to her feet and slid past her.

  “Would you like to hold my hand, Princess?” The commander threw over his shoulder.

  A retort stuck on her tongue but a stern look for Max kept her from speaking.
Ara trailed after the commander, glaring at his back. His reflexes were impeccable—nearly.

  Ara’s temper settled as they traveled in silence. Her attention diverted to the forest. Rustling birds and nocturnal critters startled her at every instance. Nyphelia gripped Ara’s hand again, nearly bruising it with each sudden clench.

  The night sky’s darkness soon drifted into a blue tint, a sign of dawn quickly approaching. Their pace lagged as the group tired, especially Nyphelia and Ara, who had to rest several times as morning approached.

  Arlow’s stomach growled and he mumbled about resting and eating to the others.

  “Not yet,” Raethin said, his voice a hesitant whisper.

  “Dawn hasn’t yet broken.”

  Arlow stiffened under Raethin’s warning glare and grumbled as they trudged on.

  A few minutes of traveling passed before Raethin halted. Ara stumbled into his tensed back and jerked away.

  Raethin’s fingers clenched tightly around his sword’s pommel. His other hand signaled for the others’ immediate silence and stillness.

  Ahead, silver fur glistened in the retreating moonlight. Gigantic canine heads leaned over a deer carcass. Upon the group’s rustling, their feast halted, and two pairs of white, pupil-less eyes turned to scrutinize the elves. Ara had never seen such beasts. Their bodies were double the size of lesser wolves. Their fur’s metallic sheen was just as unnatural as their white eyes.

  The two strange wolves shared a concerning look with another before they abandoned the carcass, approaching the group in a low crouch.

  Raethin unsheathed his sword and motioned for Arlow to follow suit. Together, the two warriors moved, matching the creatures’ movements. Max motioned for the ladies to retreated and he and Veron withdrew their bows and cocked arrows at the two creatures.

  The wolves’ movements slowed, their heads dipped low and teeth bared. They regarded the warriors, their eyes narrowing to slits

  Snarling, the first one darted at Arlow’s feet. Its jaws nearly caught Arlow’s leg before it jerked away, narrowly missing the warrior’s blade.

  The other wolf prowled toward Raethin.

  Strangely, Ara felt that the wolf’s white gaze focused on her.

  Then the wolf lunged at Raethin’s side. It also narrowly missed a blade’s edge, but instead of retreating, it barreled into the commander and sent him stumbling. Raethin held his stance, his crouch dipped low enough to hold against the push. He twisted the blade after it missed the wolf and swept it across, slicing into the wolf’s hind leg.

  The creature crumbled and the elves’ ears ached from its keening. Raethin twisted his sword once more, moving to slice through the wolf’s chest, but the creature shifted, clamping its jaws into Raethin’s leg.

  Raethin didn’t respond and slammed his blade to its hilt through the beast’s skull. Its jaws loosened and Raethin shoved its corpse off him.

  The other wolf dipped in and out of Arlow’s reach but with a quick arrow to its shoulder from Veron, its movements faltered. Arlow arched his sword across the creature’s chest, slicing deep through its heart.

  A moment of silence and stillness drew across the group as they studied the dead corpses, soaking in what just happened,

  “What in the hells are those?” Ara breathed, her question breaking the daze.

  Raethin and Arlow wiped and sheathed their swords and stepped around the dead bodies. Ara lurked around the corpses, avoiding the pooling blood.

  Up close the beasts were larger, the size of bears. Their fangs were black, glistening with the same metallic sheen as their silver coats. Their eyes now bled; the solid whites tinged with red.

  “They’re vikifur,” Raethin said and motioned for her to quicken her pace. Ara rushed toward him, gripping his arm as they hurried away from the gory scene.

  “They are mutations,” Raethin continued. “The Kaevari aren’t the only demons born from this Plague.”

  Ara swallowed.

  “What else is there?”

  Raethin’s pause sent a shiver down the princess’s spine.

  “I’m not sure,” Raethin finally said.

  Hells. The longer they traveled through this labyrinthine forest, the more Ara feared for their survival.

  Chapter Three

  The group found another creek as dawn broke and they quickly set up camp, more exhausted than the day before.

  With the tent erected in a matter of moments, Nyphelia and Ara were too exhausted to wait for breakfast and rushed to lie down on their beds. They were both drenched in sweat and secluded away from the men, they stripped off their leather down to their cotton underwear.

  Ara struggled to sleep for most of the morning, tossing on her bedroll. Visions of demons tearing flesh and drinking their fill of blood kept her from deep sleep but the vision that haunted her the most was that of the horned demon, his face wet with her father’s and mother’s blood as he tore into her parents’ bodies.

  She jerked awake after a shout of her name trembled her ears.

  With a quick glance, she found Nyphelia still fast asleep beside her.

  Ara sat upright in silence for a few passing minutes, soaking in the quiet tranquility of the forest outside the tent. She heard soft murmurs from the warriors outside and slowly put on her leather.

  Her movement woke Nyphelia, who rolled onto her back and stared at Ara as she strapped on her boots.

  “What are you doing, Princess?”

  “I’m going to see if I can get a bath.”

  Nyphelia quickly dressed and followed Ara.

  Outside the tent, the warriors lounged in the midday sun. Veron dozed against a tree. Max crouched by the creek, washing his face and refilling his canteen. Raethin had tended to his shallow wound and now laid back with Arlow against the logs they rolled up by the tent. Cloth covered their eyes to block out light while they dozed.

  Raethin peeked through the cloth and squinted at Ara and Nyphelia as they approached.

  “What is it, Princess?”

  “We would like to bathe,” Ara said.

  “You would bathe in front of us men, Princess?”

  Arlow jerked, raising the cloth from his eyes.

  “No.” Ara clenched her teeth. “We would like to bathe in private, of course.”

  “No.”

  Ara grimaced.

  “We are covered in days’ old sweat and grime, Commander. It is barbaric to expect us to settle for that state.”

  “Under that logic, then we should all bathe.” Raethin’s cheek twisted, withholding a grin.

  “Together, of course,” Raethin continued. “So that we are all protected. Just in case a monster attacks us.”

  “Raethin,” Max warned with a sigh. “I’ll take them

  down the stream, so they have privacy.”

  “That would be a better compromise, wouldn’t it?”

  There was a frown in his voice, but his cheek relaxed.

  Raethin waved them on.

  Max escorted Ara and Nyphelia down the creek until the waters deepened. He turned his back to the elven women and told them to be quick.

  Ara and Nyphelia undressed, eying Max and the others as they slipped into the knee-high creek. Nyphelia followed, her expression just as anxious as the princess’s. They both shuttered at the water’s surprising chill as they adjusted to it.

  Nyphelia broke the silence after a few minutes.

  “I must ask,” Nyphelia said, hesitating.

  “Yes?”

  “Was Raethin flirting?” Nyphelia blushed.

  “I don’t know nor do I care.”

  “Of course.” Nyphelia’s cheeks flushed as she detangled her blond hair.

  Ara knew that Raethin said those things out of spite, but she wondered the same.

  ♦♦♦

  “What was that about?” Arlow asked minutes after the elven women left to wash.

  “What was what about?” Raethin quipped. Despite the cloth resting over his closed eyes, he could feel Arlow
staring at him.

  “I’ve never seen you tease the princess like that before.” Arlow paused, musing aloud. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak so casually with her.”

  Raethin shrugged, ignoring the half-elven warrior as Arlow mused on.

  “I mean,” Arlow said. “I know you’ve always disliked her—for some reason, I can’t imagine. I’ve always liked her. But Rae, it’s a bit unorthodox of you.”

  Arlow went quiet as he waited for the commander to respond. After a minute passed, Raethin sighed and pulled the cloth from his eyes.

  His friend sat cross-legged beside Raethin and eyed him with curiosity.

  “You know,” Raethin began, “I was her father’s ass-licker. She proclaimed it all over Verisca since the time he promoted me.”

  “Well, I thought that too when I first met you.” Arlow shrugged. “But I realized quickly that you’re just a hardworking, natural prodigy and that the king realized he couldn’t let that talent go to waste. I mean, I’m young and you’re only—what—a few decades older than me? And yet you’re the royal commander and I’m your lackey. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy being your lackey.”

  Raethin sighed and interrupted his rant. “You’re my friend, Arlow. Not my lackey.”

  “Right, which is why I don’t mind being in your shadow.” Arlow leaned back on his log and sighed. “Max and I would do anything for you—we’d do anything for our princess too. She’s a good person.”

  Raethin scoffed.

  “What, you don’t believe me?” Arlow frowned when Raethin shrugged a shoulder at him. “Well, how much time did you spend with her anyway? Max and I were the ones that guarded her all the time. You avoided her like the plague.”

  “She spread rumors about me, Arlow.”

  “How do you know she spread them? You know how the court is—was—full of fat and old cows sitting on their wealth and status, their only job in life to spread rumors and raise taxes. The ladies that surrounded Ara were nasty felines, Rae.”