The Elfmaid's Curse (The Elfmaid Trilogy Book 1)

by Warren Thomas

  They turned onto a much more crowded street that wound upward toward the center of Allaria island.

  "Why not just go back to Zahari..." Danica started to say. Then hand reaching for hilt, "That's him! That's Talar!"

  Reaching for her hilt, Cat asked, "Where?"

  "Over there," she said, pointing toward two men talking at an intersection. "The dark-haired one. That's my body."

  Cat grinned. "Pretty."

  Danica flushed crimson. Talar was decked out in flowing red silk robes with golden dragons and serpents elaborately intertwined. He looked more like a pampered courtier than a powerful wizard, much less a fearless warrior.

  Gods! How could he dress like that? People will think it is me.

  Grinning wickedly, "You know, Danica, I could go for a man like that, if he wasn't so effeminate."

  "You're not very funny, Cat," she growled and started for the wizard.

  "What are you doing?" Cat asked. "We've got to learn..."

  It was too late.

  "Talar! You soulless bastard! I've come for you!" Danica cried as she launched herself at him.

  "God of Mercy!" Cat cried out and followed her.

  Talar spun at Danica's cry with wide eyes. Seeing them, he threw up his right arm and spoke a Word of Power. A brilliant orange fireball shot out at the charging women. They dropped to the ground to avoid being burned to a crisp as he took off running down a side street.

  "Dirusa! I demand vengeance!" Danica cried out to the Goddess of Hate and Revenge.

  She jumped to her feet and darted around the corner in pursuit. Cat, who had been faster in Tamera and Ismat al-Haratha, was left behind. Danica's rage was giving her speed and strength she hadn't known previously.

  "Danica, remember what the Goddess said!"

  Danica didn't hear, or didn't choose to hear, Cat. All she could think of was catching Talar and exacting her vengeance. As she ran, every single pain, indignation, humiliation, and insult came back to her. Her sale to the House of Mikem, her capture by the Jordani and their treatment of her, Fulgar's betrayal, Horse, and then Faiser, and the way they made her feel. It was all Talar's fault.

  She wasn't gaining on him, but his robes were slowing him down enough for her to maintain the interval and prevented him from escaping. She thought that fair punishment for making "Danic" look like a sissy.

  Seeing him duck down an alley, her heart soared. She knew that alley. It dead-ended a short ways in. She had him now.

  Rounding the corner, she spotted him coming back up the alley. "Halt, bastard!"

  Talar skidded to a halt. Eyeing her warily, he began pacing forward more cautiously. He didn't look overly concerned. He obviously didn't realize just how angry she was.

  "I never thought to see you again," Talar said, attempting a grin. "Been having fun?"

  "I mean to demonstrate just how much fun I've had," she growled, tightening her grip on the sword.

  "I think not," Talar said as he came within half a dozen paces of her.

  His arm sprung up and a fireball shot out. Danica, who was trying to dive out of the way, was hit full in the side. With screams of terror she began beating at the flames engulfing her. She could feel her skin blistering and melting away under the arcane fires. Hysterical with fear and pain, she began running, consumed with thoughts of finding water and jumping in.

  Powerful hands lifted her bodily and slammed her to the hard cobbles. Madden by fear and pain, she clawing at her captor's face and eyes in a vain attempt to escape. Then she was rolled back and forth on the ground until the flames were snuffed out.

  "Danica, are you all right?" Cat asked, eyes full of worry.

  "No," she croaked out. "Where's Talar?"

  Her shirt had been half-consumed in the flames, and parts of her breeches down to her knees were burned away. What skin was left underneath was all an angry red or blackened, and much of it already beginning to blister. In places the skin was completely burned away, revealing scorched ribs and red meat.

  Cat had to look away from her fire ravaged body.

  "You fool. The Goddess warned you against attacking too early," Cat said, shaking her angrily. "Do you just have a death wish?"

  "Talar?"

  "He's gone," she said. "Why did you do that? Why?"

  "I'm sorry," she whispered, jaw clenched in pain. "I don't know what came over me."

  "I do. You people are all a bunch of homicidal killers," Cat snapped, scooping Danica up in her arms. "Now, which way to this witch of yours?"

  "Just down this street a short ways."

  Cat bolted down the street to the next intersection. Turning right, she found herself on the Street of Witches. Men and women in the outrageous styles of armor and face paint the Vikon loved so were everywhere. Danica weakly pointed out a particularly dilapidated looking tenement. On the second floor, Cat kicked at the indicated door.

  A pretty blonde answered. She was clothed in Vikon armor and face paint. Her armor was nothing more than shoulder plates of overlapping steel plates that turned up into sharp points, and only reached down to her elbows. High neck guards framed her head, and steel half-moon breast-cups almost protected her bosom. The armor was all lacquered bright red, just like the fierce face paint surrounding her mischievous blue eyes. Her midriff was left uncovered and unprotected. She wore red leather breeches stuffed into red thigh boots with elaborate multicolored embroidery work.

  "Elise?" Danica said.

  "I don't do healing," she said, face screwed up at the sight and odor of the horrible burns. Pointing, "Try Mother Mirel down — "

  "Elise, please," Danica begged softly. "It's me. Danic."

  "Danic?"

  Cat forced her way in, "Danic of Drakehorn, my Lady." Glancing down at her charge, "He...or she has had a most unfortunate run-in with a rather sick-minded sorceress."

  "Maag preserve us! Danic, you idiot," she cried, indicating a table for Cat to lay Danica. "Didn't I warn you about messing with sorcerers? You never listened to my advice. Never, ever!"

  "I wish you'd have been with us a few minutes ago, before she tried to catch the one that did this," Cat said, gently stretching her out on the table. "She took a fireball in the belly."

  "She stole my body, Elise," Danica said, finding it harder to remain conscious. "I need your help."

  "I'll do what I can," she promised, checking the burns over carefully. Then turning to Cat, "Go down to the ground floor and turn right. Three doors down and to the left is Mother Mirel's. Tell her it's an emergency and I need her."

  Nodding, Cat left without a word as Danica blacked out.

  * * * * *

  With sword drawn, Danica quietly advanced through the darkened laboratory. All about her were the strange bubbling tubes and vials of colored liquids that always seemed to be inside wizards' laboratories. Talar had his back to her, bent over some ancient tome. She smiled.

  As she closed on the hated mage, she became appalled at what he was wearing. His robes were bright pink, with lacy ruffles at the collar and cuffs. She looked him over in stunned silence. The bastard knew no shame! How dare he do that to her body!

  Looking back up, Talar's hair now fell down to his waist, with an ornate silver comb holding it back to expose a jewel encrusted ear. Danica almost screamed.

  Then he whirled on her, now dressed in a crimson ball gown. It was more than Danica could handle. She staggered back as the wizard threw a fireball at her.

  Danica threw back her head and screamed as she was engulfed in flames.

  "Danica! Wake-up!" Elise cried, shaking her shoulder.

  "What? Where? Elise?"

  "You were having a nightmare," she said as she turned up the oil lamp.

  "Thank the Gods," Danica sighed with feeling, laying back onto the soft mattress.

  Chills ran up and down her back as she thought back on how Talar had looked in the dream. Thank the Gods it was only a dream, but then she remember how he had looked on the street. Her mood darkened at the thought. />
  One more indignity he'll have to pay for.

  Glancing around expectantly, "Where's Cat?"

  "Sleeping," she said. "Poor girl was physically and emotionally exhausted. As I recall, my adventures with you always left me the same way."

  Smiling at the fond memories, "Yes, we did have some good times."

  "How are you feeling?" Elise asked more seriously.

  "Tired," she said, realizing for the first time just how exhausted she was. It was that feeling she remembered getting after a long swim. Strange.

  "I'm afraid the healing took a lot out of you. Your injuries were beyond our capabilities to heal. Fortunately, we found outside help, but even then excessive amounts of energy was required. Mother Mirel refused to give up any of her energy, so Cat and I gave up some of ours to supplement yours and the sorceress's. Mother Mirel still remembers all the trouble you caused her last time you were in town," she said. Suddenly grinning, "Fortunately, she never discovered my involvement."

  Danica smiled. "You always had a knack for that."

  Elise's smile fading, "What happened to you?"

  Smiling weakly, "I tried to seduce a sorceress. So she gave me her body and took mine."

  Elise's face screwed up in distaste. "Cat told me the sorceress was in your body. A man's body. How disgusting."

  Danica wondered if Elise thought that stealing a body was disgusting, or being in a man's body was something to be dreaded, but she was too tired to think on it now.

  "I need your help to get my body back."

  "I can see that," she said.

  "Has Cat told you what we need?"

  "Yes," Elise said, pulling back the covers to look her over. They both noted with satisfaction that the burns were all gone, with no sign of scarring. Her body still gleamed with pungent ointment. Danica noted with surprise that even her deep tan had been restored. She thought that strange, having never heard of such a thing. Sure, witches could heal simple burns and injuries, and without scars, but the new skin was always untanned. With a start, Danica realized her injuries were far beyond Witchcraft to heal. They would've required Sorcery to heal, or be left to heal naturally.

  "Sorceress," Danica said. "You said something about bringing in a sorceress?"

  "Yes," Elise said with a grimace. Witches and sorceresses were known to hate each other passionately. "Mother Mirel and the Sorceress Maeve have been studying the talisman for the last few hours."

  Danica knew a moment of fear at hearing Maeve had access to that powerful and quite valuable talisman. She might be a mage, but she was at heart a mercenary little thief. Of course, it could be a different sorceress named Maeve, since in truth Carl's cousin changed her name to "Maeve" since she never liked her given name of Helga.

  "Who is this Maeve? Are you sure she's safe to confide in? She's not a short, pretty redhead, is she?"

  Maeve was really more of a Leltic name. Danica hoped it was a Leltic sorceress, and not Carl's crazy cousin.

  "No, I don't think she can be trusted. We thought she was a Vikon from the Tyrian city of Somme. But when we sent out word of your injuries among the Vikon community, with requests for energies and advice, she hurried over and let it be known that she was a full sorceress and a personal friend of yours," Elise said. "The healing took a terrible toll on her, but she did the job. I think it was the first time she had ever done such a thing."

  "Redhead?"

  "Yes. Quite pretty, too."

  Danica grimaced. Maeve was a former red-headed spitfire of a lover. She was a Tyrian warrior who was Carl's first cousin, and trouble in every sense of the word. He'd heard she "acquired" magical knowledge and abilities since last they met. He didn't know how she did it, but if it could be stolen Maeve would be the person to steal it.

  But there was no profit in worrying now. It was done. Maeve was involved. Danica would meet her later and determine if she was safe, and deal with her accordingly from there.

  "So what have you all learned about the talisman?"

  "It powerful, that's for sure." Elise snorted nervously. "More power than mere mortals were ever meant to wield, I'm sure."

  "You sound scared," Danica said, pushing herself up to a sitting position.

  "I am, and you should be, too," she said, frowning. "Cat told us about how you called up the lightning, and killed the warhawks."

  Danica cringed, her stomach turned sour, and goose-flesh spread across her shoulders and back.

  "I didn't mean to kill — "

  "I know, but it just shows how dangerous it is," she said. "I only know Witchcraft, and that thing is beyond Sorcery. It's God Magic."

  "Can you teach me to wield it?" she said, starting to feel uncomfortable. "I can't succeed without it."

  Elise smiled, "I can teach you. It's easy enough for even you to handle, as long as you don't do something else stupid."

  "Bloody great," Danica said, smiling widely. "I'm ready to start now."

  "No," she said. "Tomorrow we'll show you everything you need to know." She bit her lip nervously a second, staring off into space. "Tomorrow night is Bloodmoon. Cat told us what Maag said."

  "So tomorrow night I fight Talar," Danica said, a sense of relief and satisfaction coming over her. Smiling, "Maag promised me a victory if I fought Talar on the next Bloodmoon. This is that Bloodmoon."

  Elise looked sharply at her. "No she didn't."

  "Yes she did."

  "No she didn't. Cat told us exactly what she said. Victory was never mentioned, but the Gods' interests will be served by you attacking tomorrow night. Or at least Maag's faction," she said. "That may not include you getting back your body, or even surviving the night."

  Danica was stunned. The idea that Maag would send her out on a suicide mission hadn't been one she would allow herself to dwell on. Who knew the minds of Gods? Was she to be some sacrificial lamb? A pawn of the Gods?

  Elise was right. She couldn't trust the Gods. Not entirely. They had their own priorities. the needs and concerns of some man trapped inside an elfmaid's body were probably rather insignificant to them. If she was to succeed, she had to trust in herself and her friends.

  "I can't ask you to help me..."

  "Then don't! Mirel consulted the cards. If anyone other than Cat goes with you to fight Talar, we all die. The Gods don't want you to be assisted by me or any other spellcaster," she said. "I will do all I can, but only you and Cat can go to fight the wizard. Even then the outcome's not certain."

  "Why?"

  Elise threw up her arms and began pacing before the bed. "How should I know? Ask the Gods. It's their bloody war."

  "The Gods are at war?" Danica had visions of mass destruction on a scale not seen in three thousand years, when the Arisen ousted the Old Ones. Then, entire cities had been destroyed, wiped out by powerful Magicks from angry Gods and their vast human armies, leaving nothing but deep holes in the ground that had gradually filled with water. "But the Gods promised never to wage war like that again."

  "I don't think it's the same," Maeve said in her thick Tyrian accent from the door, smiling mischievously at Danica. "Tschüss! Long time no see, lover."

  Danica barely heard her. Before her, decked out in outrageous blue-lacquered Vikon armor not unlike Elise's in style, stood Maeve, Carl's impetuous cousin. Danic's former lover and partner in way too much mischief.

  At five foot three Maeve was short by any standards, much less Tyrian standards. A fact that she hated to no end. But she was one of the most vital women Danica had ever met, wild and unpredictable. Stature aside, she was shapely and quite pretty with long flame red hair and deep blue eyes. Growing up, she had many suitors, but Maeve was not a woman to be tied down by anyone. Easily bored and quick to prove to everyone that she was at least their equal no matter what the task, most men were unable to keep up with her, unwilling or, more often than not, died trying.

  Her nature and a love of anything shiny and pretty led her to thievery. No other lifestyle held the death defying intensity she nee
ded to be happy. Danica could see the Tyrian as a thief, a mercenary, or even a charlatan Vikon witch cheating people out of their hard earned coin. But a sorceress? Impossible. Maeve barely had the discipline needed to learn the sword. She was just too action oriented and easily bored to be able to stand a life of intense study, study of books to learn new spells.

  Looking disappointed, Maeve continued. "But it's war, no doubt. The cards didn't lie." She sighed, looking off into space. "Mother Mirel is thinking the Gods, maybe, want you to prevent a war. I tend to agree, though forecasting the future isn't what I do best. Fortune telling is more a natural born talent than magic."

  "You're the sorceress?" Danica asked. "Truly? Last I saw you — "

  "Yes," Maeve interrupted, giving Danica a look that screamed SHUT UP! "It has been years since we parted ways. I have since completed my magical training."

  Danica fell back on the bed, her head spinning. What was Maeve's little game here? She was always scheming something. Her skills with weapons were at best adequate, with her only real talent being thievery. How she ever became a sorceress was beyond Danica, but it did make her more dangerous.

  Like most Tyrians she was totally full of herself and was always hatching plans to attain great wealth and glory. Unfortunately, Maeve's schemes usually went wrong due to impatience and ill-planning on her part. Danica had the sinking feeling Maeve's latest scheme might include the talisman, or Danica herself.

  Whatever Maeve's plans were, Danica had to get herself focused on the coming fight with Talar.

  "You agree with the God War theory then," Danica said, propping herself up on an elbow. "You think the Gods want me to stop a war? How...by killing Talar?"

  She shrugged. "We don't know what they want, truly. They may just want you to push him in a certain direction, maybe losing your own life in the bargain."

  "But what about the talisman? They wouldn't have given it to me if they wanted me to lose."

  Maeve hesitated, uncertainty evident in her mobile face.

  Elise spoke up. "Perhaps. Unless they wanted this Talar to have it. If you lose, he'll get the talisman."