ODDER, THE BLOOD CURSE
Copyright © NATHANIEL RED 2017
Edition 01 published by Silver Squirrel Press, 2019
The right of NATHANIEL RED to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by HIS in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2019902843
ISBN Print: 978-1-7337351-2-4
ISBN Ebook: 978-1-7337351-1-7
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental
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ODDER
THE BLOOD CURSE
ODDER THE DEMON HUNTER SERIES
BOOK ONE
BY
NATHANIEL RED
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
ARCAINA
CHAPTER 1
THROUGH THE SEEKER’S EYE
Fernick pushed Odder, by the neck, into the magic shield that guards the castle’s door.
Odder dug his fingers into the cold stone. “I’m not going.”
“I’m tired of waiting,” said Fernick, pushing harder. “It’s freezing.”
Odder stood his ground. “Stop it. We’re still in the pitch.”
Fernick dropped his arms. “Fine. I give up.”
“There’re things worse than the cold out there,” Odder said, with a scowl. “Keep it open. I’ll leave as soon as Kellas shines his light.”
Fernick lowered his scarf, revealing a treasure map of scars as well as his disdain. “I wouldn’t have to open the shield if you weren’t a vekart.”
Odder bit his tongue, hiding the sting of the insult. He pulled the hood of his gray cloak over his short silver hair, hoping to block out Fernick’s snide remarks, and waited for the familiar amber glow of the second sunrise. “I’ll wait for Kellas to chase away Ophelia’s dominance in the sky.”
Fernick rolled his eyes and pulled up his scarf.
Movement outside caught Odder’s eye. A large-eyed baby degu hid at the base of a log. “Shoo,” he said, his voice just louder than a whisper. “It’s dangerous out.”
Instead of running, the degu quivered and buried its head in its brown fur.
“Look there,” said Fernick, gesturing to a silhouette near the log. “An onyx scorpion.”
Ophelia’s disciple lifted its three tails as if cued and crept closer to the unsuspecting degu.
“That beast shouldn’t be out this close to first light,” Odder said. “Cast a spell.”
“For a rodent? I’m not wasting my time,” said Fernick.
“A simple light spell will chase away the scorpion.”
“No. If you care so much, you cast the spell.” Fernick smirked. “Oh, that’s right, you can’t.”
Odder glared.
Fernick huffed and placed a hand on the magic shield. The barrier faded.
“You’re wasting my time. Kellas will be up any moment,” he said. “Run out and save it.”
A cold numbness clung to Odder. “Go out into…?” He trembled. “No. I - I can’t. Close the shield.”
“Are you serious?” Fernick pulled back his hand but stopped. “The clock is ticking for your furry friend.”
Odder shook his head.
Without warning, Fernick pushed him through the barrier.
Odder gasped and pushed his back against the cold stones of the outer wall. “Let me back in.”
“Don’t be scared, you fool,” Fernick shouted.
Ophelia’s dim blue light rested heavy across the House of Elestus this morning, like a thick fog choking the dead leaves. The blue sun indulged in her brief solitude, allowing her creatures to hide in her shadows - waiting to prey on the innocent.
Odder held out a shaky palm, and whispered, “Latampas.”
But nothing happened.
“Latampas,” he said again, louder. “Please. I just need a little light.”
The scorpion climbed on a rotted log above the degu. Its tails stiffened and arched.
“Latampas,” Odder shouted. but the scorpion inched closer.
Odder slammed his hand against the wall and discovered a loose stone. He pried and picked out a small shard and with careful aim, flicked it at the scorpion. The shard landed just in front, enough to make the creature jump.
A sudden crow from an anzu welcomed the new day. Kellas rose between two western peaks, brightening the sky, and forcing Ophelia to cower as a pale ghost of her former power. Her pitch fading.
The scorpion retreated from the stump, into a corner of a stone wall, but Kellas’s light gave chase, touching its claws, causing it to smolder. It snapped at the sun in protest, but soon twisted and shriveled as the light engulfed it. Moments later, only its charred body remained with flakes blowing away in the Spring’s cold breeze.
The light provided safety for Odder. He approached the degu and with a soft touch, nudged the ball of fur with his boot. It jumped and dashed into a nearby bush.
Odder raised his head, taking solace in the warm rays beaming from the sky. His spirit lifted in the light, and he walked over to the once-threatening scorpion. He studied it’s burnt carcass then lifted his boot and crushed the remains into ash.
With a quick sneer to Fernick, he sprinted away from the castle, still wary of the shadows, and careful not to slip on the damp cobblestones until he reached Zandon’s Magic Shop of Relics.
There he waited, tucked into obscurity, his heart hammering with hope and anticipation. He kept his chin down to avoid eye contact with the patrons already gathered. Two elves shared opinions about the Tetrad and the goblin menace. Subjects heavy on the minds of the townsfolk, and even overshadowing the upcoming Champion’s Quest.
“Psst. Over here.” The voice emanated from behind a crate stacked against the shop’s wall.
Odder glanced around before edging over to the crate and ducking behind it.
“Finkle?”
“Hey, laddy.” A foot-tall gnome jumped out from behind a discarded broken pot and hit Odder in the chest with his red cone hat.
Odder fell back, smacking his head against the wall. “Come on Finkle,” he said, massaging his scalp. “It’s bad enough I have to sneak-”
“Keep your voice down,” Finkle whispered.
“What are we doing here, hiding like thieves?”
“I have the spell remember?”
Odder leaned in and cocked his head. “So you say, but we’ve
tried before.”
“This time, it’s for real.” Finkle reached into his green vest. “A high wizard from Rigan devoted an ounce of silq to create this.” The gnome held out a scroll bound with leather.
“An ounce,” Odder said. “That’s a fortune.”
Finkle held his finger to his lips. “Quiet down.”
“Then how’d you get it?” Odder asked, his gray eyes narrowing. “Is this why we’re hiding? Because you stole it?”
Finkle stared back. His emerald eyes glinted. “I do a lot of things, but I don’t steal.” He pulled the auburn peach fuzz on his chin and held out his hand again. “Let’s just say I have my ways, and we’re hiding because this spell is too powerful to conjure in public.”
A thrill of excitement sprouted within Odder.
“Now. Payment.”
Odder slumped back.
“This better not be a trick.”
Finkle’s eyes flashed. “Do you want the spell or not?”
“Fine.” Odder reached under his cloak and pulled out three small scrolls. He placed one in Finkle’s tiny weathered palm. “Owl Face.” Then another. “Jerboa Ears.” And the final one. “This is one of my favorites – Slippery Step.”
Finkle held them like gold as he chuckled through his teeth like a deviant. He tucked them into his vest and motioned Odder deeper into the alley. “We’ll need a little more privacy.”
They slipped behind two empty barrels.
“Now, laddy, sit back as I cast your spell.”
Odder’s pulse quickened. Will this be the one?
“You are worthless,” a familiar voice answered from deep in his mind.
Odder hesitated, heeding to his inner voice, and leaned back. “Wait, maybe this is a bad idea.”
Finkle glared. “Are you serious? Do you want to wield magic?”
“More than anything.”
“Then why are you even questioning?”
Odder shrugged, struggling to keep his inner voice quiet.
Finkle huffed then relaxed. “Don’t worry laddy. This spell won’t turn you into a demon.”
After an awkward moment of silence, they both laughed.
“Why are you stalling then?” Odder forced a brave smile. “You’ll make me late to meet my master.”
“Alright, just let me read through the text to make sure I have the Rigan dialect correct.” Finkle moved the scroll up and down before nodding once and clearing his throat. “It’s time.”
As he recited, the words lifted from the page like smoke over a smoldering fire. Finkle continued, and the words flashed, catching on fire and crackling like burning cinders. A thick smoke formed, souring the air and giving it an acidic taste. Odder gag. Then the words flew into Odder’s chest.
Odder’s eyes went black for a moment, and a sudden queasiness overwhelmed him. A knot formed in his throat and he grabbed his stomach.
“You alright?” Finkle asked. “You look like you’re going to puke.”
“I…” Odder’s face twisted, his cheeks bulged, and he let out a rancid burp before his shoulders relaxed. “Phew. I thought I was going to lose it.”
Finkle waved his hand back and forth in front of his face. “Yeah, good thing. That smell is rotten. So, do you sense the magic?”
Odder bit his lip and paused. “I’m not sure.”
“Try conjuring a simple spell.”
“Like what?”
“Have you practiced the light spell?”
“Every chance I get.”
“Then do it.”
Odder wiped his moist hand against his cloak and held out his palm. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled. “Latampas.”
He cracked open an eye. Nothing.
Finkle frowned and adjusted his hat. “Focus on the intention. Try it again. This time, think of light forming in your palm.”
Odder tried again with the same result. He slumped.
Finkle threw the scroll on the ground and stomped on it. “Not worth a drop of silq.”
“You’ll never be good enough to wield magic!” Odder’s inner voice shouted as if it were trying to extinguish Odder’s last spark of hope. From his earliest thoughts, his inner voice commanded, judged, and warned – always attacking Odder’s insecurities from deep within his psyche.
“Don’t worry about it, Finkle. I’ll always be a vekart.”
“Stop it, laddy. If there’s a way, we’ll find it.”
“Thanks.” Odder lifted his head. “I better go before I’m late.”
“Alright, here’s your pranks back.”
“No, you keep them. A deal’s a deal even if it didn’t work.”
“Fine by me.” Finkle smiled and patted his vest. He looked up at Odder, paused, and huffed. “You know . . . How about I keep these on credit for your next spell?”
Odder grinned. Despite the gnome’s narcissistic tendencies, he always treated Odder with fairness. “Deal.”
Finkle brushed the dust off his pants. “Let’s meet up later.”
“Sure, I might have some time after the township meeting.”
“Splendid. I’ll come find you.”
Finkle waved and performed a perfect sequence of backflips down the alley then tip-toed to an unsuspecting elf and blew sneezing powder into his face. He ran around the corner laughing before the elf gathered his wits.
Gnomes. Odder shook his head.
***
Odder rushed back to the royal stables to meet his master, Prince Destin Arcus of Elestus. He arrived early enough to brush, feed, and fill the water barrel for Garres, Destin’s black steed. As he swept the stable, his mind wandered to a fierce, imaginary goblin battle. He placed the broom up against the plank wall and unsheathed his wooden sword.
“Now goblin, we are the last two standing. Raise your weapon and prepare to go back to the pit you came from,” he murmured under his breath. He raised his sword and struck the broom several times, knocking it from side to side.
He held up his palm and launched fake fireballs. “Pow, pow, pow! Blocked!” Odder covered his face and stumbled back pretending to be hit by lightning bolts.
“Garres,” he said. “Run and get help.” The steed looked up while chewing on his hay, then wiggled his ears, and put his head back into the barrel.
“Thanks.” Odder sighed, disappointed at the steed’s lack of enthusiasm.
“Oh, look at the mighty wizard-warrior,” a taunting voice called from behind Odder.
Odder recognized the smug tone without turning around. His blood boiled, and a sudden sharp pain attacked his left forearm like claws trying to rip free from inside his skin.
“Stay calm. Stay calm,” he whispered under his breath. The pain subsided. He placed his sword back into his belt and turned.
Renzt, the son of ArchWizard Arzed, stooped over holding his stomach, laughing. His royal red cloak with lime green stripes rustled in the dirt.
“You should be the market jester – because you make a great fool.”
The pain in Odder’s arm escalated. He gripped his forearm and narrowed his eyes. “Did you come out to the stables to mock a servant?”
“No, just checking on my steed – but since I’m here.” Renzt pulled up his sleeve. “Let me show you something you’ll never have.”
The symbol of the invoker, a triangle with an eye in the center, marked Renzt’s scrawny, pale bicep.
“Only three away from wizard,” Renzt said, his nose in the air.
Odder bit his cheek. The thought of his chief tormentor with such a distinguished honor made his stomach turn.
“Well done,” he said, making no effort to conceal his bitterness.
“What, you don’t approve?” Renzt kicked the water pail at Garres, who snorted and bucked in indignation.
Odder reached for his sword and stepped in front of the steed.
Renzt pulled out his wand and aimed at Odder. “Ah! You’ll be dead before you can even remove your stick from it
s sheathing.”
Odder moved his hand to his chest, and held open his palms, but stood firm in front of the stallion.
Renzt sneered. “Even loyal to his steed. Think about this, swamp slug. If your master becomes Champion of the games, he will no longer need you, and since my father oversees castle affairs, I’ll have him rid the world of your kind.” He smirked, then continued in a slow condescending tone. “But I may ask him to let you kneel and beg for mercy.”
Odder’s face twisted around his clenched teeth. His hands closed forming provoking fists.
Renzt chanted and waved his wand in a circular motion. A flare of red light wrapped around Odder and squeezed his arms tight against his torso. He struggled to breathe.
“You see worthless slug.” Renzt flicked his wand, forcing Odder to his knees. “I believe my purpose in this world is to torment you, and I will enjoy every minute.”
“Is there trouble here?” asked another voice from behind Rentz.
Renzt hid his wand, breaking the spell. “No, just scolding this senseless servant.”
Odder climbed to his feet, with some effort, and peered past Renzt. “Prince Destin.”
Renzt blushed and turned, bowing his head. “My lord. I was reprimanding your servant for kicking over this bucket.”
Destin stood tall, his chest broad, suggesting a sturdy physique hiding under his tailored fur coat. His long silver hair draped over his chiseled facial features. He frowned. “Is this true Odder?”
“Destin will flog you if you say no. He won’t trust the word of a vekart,” Odder’s inner voice said.
“…Yes,” Odder answered, swallowing his pride. “As he said.” He knew from experience the consequences of crossing the ArchWizard’s son.
“Run along, Renzt,” said Destin, his voice cold and flat like ice forming in a brook, “And keep your distance from Odder.”
Renzt continued to bow while walking backward. Passing Odder, he bared his teeth, then left the stables.
“Just because you’re a servant and his father is a lord, doesn’t mean you need to lie for him,” said Destin when Renzt was out of earshot.
Odder turned and brushed Garres until the steed calmed. “It was nothing.”
“He’s small-minded and spoiled.” Destin gripped Odder’s shoulder. “At least you didn’t lose your temper this time.”
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