The Boy and His Curse

by Michael P Mordenga

  “It’s not here. This is all the war scrolls we own. Tell me, Ravenheart, where is the scroll?”

  “I do not know.”

  The rock scroll hit Ravenheart in the head. “Find it! We need that prophecy.”

  “Sir, if I may add,” Ravenheart offered, “your brother is the master of all prophecy scrolls. He can tell you where it is.”

  “Kashun?” Fragile demanded, outside of Kashun’s smaller tent. The general had gotten the attention of the surrounding troops.

  Kashun irritably opened his tent flap. “What do you want, brother?”

  “Give me the Davik scroll!”

  Kashun surveyed his brother. Fragile was holding the scroll in his hand; had he gone mad?

  “You’re holding it….”

  Fragile barged inside the small tent and stood nose-to-nose with his smaller brother. His huge frame filled up the small area. With Fragile’s nostrils steaming out hot air and his face a network of angry lines, Kashun knew he needed to give his brother whatever he wanted.

  “There is a second page; you know where it is, Kashun. Where is the second page? Give it to me or you will pay severely. I am not a man who fails my vow.”

  Kashun knew this from experience. He had a scar down his back where Fragile swiped with a sword once when Kashun had refused to use his artistry. He didn’t want to be forced into anything and bullying made him furious, but Fragile told him that if he tried to defend himself the whole army would be looking for him. That’s what kept him in Fragile’s claw, even though he would love to send his brother into a fire tornado.

  Kashun thought out loud. “The second scroll came around during the age of small battles in Bangor. Which means….”

  Fragile bashed him in the face, knocking Kashun right back inside his own tent. Kashun was on the ground with fear in his eyes, but he wished it was hatred to motivate him to fight back.

  “Stop stalling and tell me where it is. This is your last chance!” Fragile shouted.

  Kashun explained, “There is not a hell torturous enough in my mind to contain you. I was saying that the scrolls we use for prophecy are taken into battle, like the ones we have in our possession now. So most likely the scroll was brought to a war front. Of all the wars we fought 200 suns ago; the only one we didn’t win full victory on was the battle of border Phaenix. We were actually pushed back in that fight and forced to run.”

  “Nonsense,” Fragile yelled, “That doesn’t seem right at all!”

  “It’s true, you gargantuan piece of waste!” Kashun got himself up off the floor. “We lost a battle in that age. There’s a good chance the Phaenix plundered us as well. The only explanation that makes sense is that they have the second scroll of Davik. But I don’t see why you are so excited.”

  A wicked grin grew on Kashun’s hurt face. “I think the first page tells us everything we need to know.”

  The comment boiled inside Fragile so much that he lifted up his scrawny brother and threw him outside. “You are the downfall of our kingdom!”

  The surrounding troops watched as the two brothers fought. Fragile picked up his brother by the robe collar and lifted him with massive strength. Kashun well knew Fragile had the strength and the temper of the family.

  “I’ll show you what I am going to do to the Phaenix.”

  There was an open well near a run-down shed. This would make a perfect place to punish Kashun. Fragile dangled his brother over the well. Kashun couldn’t hide his terror. He was struggling like a red hog stuck in a hunter’s trap as the great assembly of warriors looked on.

  “Look into my eyes, brother. I want you to see what the consequences of treachery are. This is the face that will destroy Faeria. And now it’s the face that will destroy you.” Fragile’s face was venomous. He had the kind of eyes that would kill anything for power. They were extremely dangerous.

  He was really going to drop Kashun into the well. This wasn’t a warning or a bluff; his brother intended to kill him. During all of this, Kashun could have easily lit his hateful brother on fire like he did the forests, but fear kept him from action.

  Suddenly, Ashen tugged on Fragile’s armor. “Sir, I don’t mean to interrupt you, but we have our first casualty.”

  Fragile’s look of hate faded away and he dropped his brother on the ground. “What is it?”

  “Some of our artists are deathly sick. They contracted it this morning.”

  Within seconds, Fragile was over to the tent where five trolls rested on their deathbeds. Their pitiful skin was pale as snow and their eyes had almost sunken into their heads. From the look of it, they were in excruciating amounts of pain. They coughed up foreign liquids, groaned like ghosts coming from the grave, and picked at the weird growths on their skin.

  “What did they eat?”

  “We all ate the same rations, sir,” Ashen said.

  “What else did these trolls do?”

  “They were with us the whole time, sir.”

  Kashun looked on, mystified. He knew what had caused it. Those were his trolls; the same trolls he taught how to use fire and wind. Now they were struggling for life, groaning wildly as death approached them. He found it strange that these five were those in charge of burning the eastern Phaenix temple. They had begged for the job of burning the temple and now they were begging for life. Kashun stepped cautiously away from them.

  There were rumors that the Daysun temple took divine vengeance on anyone that desecrated it. It was all hogwash to a worshipper of Avero, but now Kashun was looking at the five artists who laid their claws on it. Could this god of the Phaenix be showing his hand?

  Fragile looked upon the sickly warriors on the stretcher beds. They were indeed in torrents of pain. He had seen enough. He looked over at Ashen. “Take their lives.”

  “Whoa,” Kashun yelled, surprised by his confidence. “These are my men. I trained them in the highest level of artistry.”

  Fragile turned away in disrespect. “Now they are the highest level of infection. We cannot have them infecting the army.”

  “That is because your fool hardy brain had to mess with their temple. This is the work of their god.”

  Kashun could not believe it, but he was defending the deity of his enemies. Maybe it was out of spite for his brother, but he was not going to let his best warriors get killed.

  Fragile started to leave the camp signifying that he was done with this conversation. “I wish it was you on that deathbed, Kashun. It looks like both of us don’t get our wish. Perhaps we should cut our losses. Ashen!”

  Ashen obeyed the order and took out his knife.

  *****

  The Gesamus fountain was dry; it had always been dry since Gibbs left the North. The multi-tiered bowl was supposed to shoot out water and spin it in artistic spirals. Now it was scum-ridden and a very dry green color. It stood in the middle of the northern kingdom, surrounded by cobblestone. If one were to stand right in the center of the highest bowl facing North, they would have merchants behind them, wealthy Phaenix houses to the right and left, and the great castle in front of them.

  The fountain was not the only thing missing from the square; usually the people gathered to hear the Queen give her address. The speech was always about vegetation quotas that needed to be filled and minor changes in the merchant area. It had been too long since the Queen had stood from upon her podium to relay these minuscule matters. If the rumors were true, the Queen was going to speak soon about the invasion in the East. The past few days the kingdom had been eerily silent, building fear throughout the inhabitants. In everyone’s opinion, it shouldn’t have taken this long to address a situation as dire as invasion, but the Queen had never experienced this situation. She was going to speak out today.

  The crowd gathered around the fountain as Phaenix kingdom workers, dressed in a royal purple tunic, directed where they could stand. The wooden podium had been erected; it had stairs so the Queen could rise up and see her subjects.

  The purple kingdom workers
quieted the crowd and signified the Queen was coming. With blaring horns playing the royal anthem, the most important creature in Faeria walked down the path from her castle. Four spagions flanked her, heavily armored royal warriors. They wore royal golden flags over their chests and carried obsidian spears. The spagions were trained to give every cell of their life for the Queen’s protection. The Master of Defense stood beside the spagions. He was not only the Phaenix in charge of every war decision, he was the only person the Queen trusted. She wanted him by her side and that was an honor in itself.

  The horns stopped playing and the spagions surrounded the podium. The Master of Defense rose on the platform and looked over his countrymen.

  The crowd waited in a hushed silence.

  The Queen stood up on the podium, the most elegant Phaenix in the universe. Her long, silver hair was held back in golden clips, while her gown was a golden silk lined with gemstones. Her face was firm, yet she didn’t hide that she was old. Age demanded respect. She looked over the crowd that loved her and she felt a small glimmer of hope arise inside her.

  Every Phaenix knelt down and opened their wingspan. The murmur of flapping wings filled the air in honor of her majesty.

  The purple kingdom workers quieted the Phaenix and they stood. The Queen was ready to speak.

  “My fellow Phaenix,” her voice was old, but rich with confidence, “I will not be coy about this. We are being invaded by a sect of the Kalhari trolls. They have defeated our eastern reserves and are even now traveling to the Drift Space. We still don’t know what they want, but they have plans to go to the West and then the North. They have a great number and their weapons are destructive.”

  She let the words sink into her people. Their worry was so thick it would take a sword to slice it.

  “In our tradition, we let our Daysun fight ahead of us, based on a prophecy we receive from the Religistral. This is how we have fought wars and won battles. Unfortunately, we have not received any blessing or prophecy about this battle. This has stunted our progression and decision making. I apologize dearly for taking so long.”

  The crowd was still waiting for good news.

  “There comes a time when prophecy and vision must bow to the needs of a homeland. The Kalhari think they can wipe us from existence and they definitely have the means, but that does not mean we let them. This kingdom has been around since the beginning of time. It was a gift from the Daysun, who created us, and it will continue to be a gift. As of today, I am declaring war on the Kalhari.”

  The crowd roared with a deafening cheer.

  “We will meet them on the Drift Space and show them we love this land and will fight for it. This is where I ask you to send your males of proper age to the Drift Space to train. We do not have much time. We must hasten our efforts. The battle will be ready in three days and we need that time to train. This is a call out to all men who love the homeland. Serve your kingdom and fight this enemy. Time will show if the Daysun is on our side.”

  The Phaenix cheered raucously and flapped their wings in reply.

  The royal Phaenix quieted them down again. The Queen’s mood changed swiftly. Her confidence was shot. She became teary-eyed and soupy, even though it was a known fact that she rarely cried. “If we ever lost this homeland….”

  She could barely get out the words, “Fight for us…Daysun…see your creature’s struggle.”

  She couldn’t maintain control anymore and excused herself from the podium. The crowd still flapped their wings in victory, but they weren’t sure why.

  The Queen went back to her castle and the crowd slowly moved to the Drift Space. The sons of the North kissed their wives goodbye, promising to return safely after they punished the Kalhari. The men of the West laid down their farming tools and picked up the battle gear of the army. Young Phaenix who had graduated from their Trueman test, put their trades on hold to train for Faeria’s upcoming battle. The men of Faeria vowed to keep the land free of invaders, while their wives and the priests of the community promised to pray every single day for them. It was time to go to war.

  *****

  Ethan may have gotten his baggy robe back to cover his underwear, but he did not feel any more secure. He stared at the titanic warrior known as Mollet. But Mollet was not staring back at him—he had other things to worry about, like the gag around his mouth or the rope around his arms and legs. Hinson made sure to warrior-proof the ties and keep Mollet feeling sleepy by placing a leafy sleep flower up the warrior’s nose.

  Despite the effort to make him drowsy, Mollet still had pure angst tattooed on his face. His eyes sharply stared at the three captors, and he imagined how he would gut them and publicly execute them. The ties were craftily tied to his hands and ankles, which made any sort of maneuver impossible. The gag jammed inside his mouth muffled his voice. But he was most concerned with the whereabouts of his Vota. That sword meant life and limb.

  Mollet had given his life to the Faeria army, just like his brothers did, and he wasn’t going to let some clergy members drag a monstrous curse to be the downfall of Faeria. He seriously would have let his faithful guild of fighters take his life in exchange for a swipe at the boy. That human had caused unprecedented disaster in the homeland and he needed to be destroyed.

  Hinson cleaned up their camping spot while Caitilin packed up for the new morning. Ethan had the task of keeping his eye on Mollet. They had slept uneasily the night before, knowing that Mollet might awake and kill them. Neither Caitilin nor Ethan was really sure what Hinson’s plan was.

  Hinson finished scattering the ashes over a wood pile and then turned to face Mollet.

  “I don’t suppose I can get you to understand the importance of our mission.”

  Mollet grunted angry sounds Hinson assumed were threats.

  Caitilin looked at Mollet with a nervous twitch. She couldn’t believe they had captured the star warrior of the army. This Mollet could take down an Octaflaught by himself with his strength and bravery. He was loved by the people of Faeria and they weren’t going to like this.

  Hinson crouched low and leaned close to Mollet’s face. He was the only one not afraid of the warrior. “Gibbs had a vision that the Earthian would be part of this battle—in fact, that Faeria would not win the battle without him. This was a vision from the Daysun and it needs to take place. This is the prophecy and the guidance we have been waiting for. You must understand that we are trying to save our homeland.”

  The static rage on Mollet’s face showed that he hadn’t comprehended anything.

  Hinson got back up and paced. “I didn’t want to do this, but you have given me no choice.”

  Hinson whistled as loudly as he could. From the blue sky a giant bird emerged, swooping to land next to Ethan, startling the boy. It was shaped like an eagle, but it was slightly larger and glistening white. The huge bird looked around cautiously with its unblinking yellow marble eyes.

  Hinson put his hand on the bird and began to stroke its feathers. “This is a meagle. They can send messages at twice the speed of a Phaenix. Although you saw last night that I fly very fast, enough to avoid even the strongest warriors, I assure you, the meagle is faster.”

  Caitilin wondered why in the world Hinson had introduced Ethan to the fowl that brings the milk every day to the tribe. It was not of any importance, except to grab bottles of ivy milk from the markets and bring them to the woods.

  “You’re probably wondering what this has to do with you, Mollet. Well, we can’t have you telling the Queen about this and having the boy executed before we can explain. Instead, we are going to have you with us. You will join us on our mission to visit the Queen and introduce the boy.”

  Mollet laughed behind the gag. There was no way he was going with these treasonous Phaenix.

  “And if you don’t comply with our orders, this meagle will send a note to the Queen saying you attacked members of the Religistral—including the one who is in line to be the next high priest. That would confirm the Queen’s fe
ars that there are spies in this land. I would hate to think what this would do to your family name, Mollet.”

  Caitilin felt like jumping up with glee, but stopped herself. Hinson had brilliant plans.

  Ethan’s eyes glued to Hinson’s in horror; would the brute really be coming with them?

  Hinson turned to the others, “We need to get our story straight: Mollet is assisting us as part of his warrior duties. He also has declared a vow of silence until he is on the battlefield. Caitilin, you will tell any suspicious onlookers this story.”

  She nodded.

  Then Hinson turned to Ethan. “Ethan, you will be in charge of not talking to anybody new throughout this whole trip. Can you do that?”

  Ethan nodded, though he wasn’t thrilled about it.

  Hinson took his dagger from his pocket and cut the ropes that tied Mollet. The warrior immediately sprang up and pulled the purple flower from his nose. Looking around, he saw his Vota was not in view. He needed that sword.

  Caitilin and Ethan staggered back, but Hinson wasn’t going to let a little rage intimidate him.

  “Where is it?” Mollet growled.

  Hinson spoke as calmly as one could speak to a raging warrior looking for his sword. “I have not thrown away your sword. I assure you it is in good hands, but I will not let you touch it while we are in your presence. You can have it back when we are inside the castle.”

  Mollet went nose-to-nose with Hinson, stretching to his full length. Hinson could see every vein popping in Mollet’s face.

  “Do you think for one second that I am going to help you? I would rather let the boy kill me with a dagger. In fact, I would like to see how the twig handles himself in battle. That is one skirmish I wouldn’t mind being a part of.”

  Hinson did not back down or raise his voice. “Mollet, think of your kotoma. You need to live for the greater good. You know that every battle has been won because great Phaenix like yourself believed in something greater than themselves. I think it’s time for you to follow in their footsteps. We have nothing to lose. When we reveal the boy to the Queen, he will either be accepted or she will have him killed. He will be celebrated, or publicly disgraced and tortured.”