Odder- The Blood Curse

by Nathaniel Red

  “A slight complication arose. I’ll deal with the setback personally, but I may need your assistance later. For now, back to the castle. I’ll meet you there, and you can help me pick out my masquerade costume.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Odder stood. “Do I have time to stop off at the market?”

  Destin looked in the sky toward Kellas. “It’s midmorning. I’ll grant you a couple of hours but stay out of trouble.”

  “Oh I will, I promise.”

  ***

  His feet, as if possessed, led the way north over the well-placed cobblestone road while he examined the markings on his forearm. The patterns darkened, becoming more prominent.

  If Finkle didn’t give them to me, then who did?

  Oblivious to the townsfolk walking by, he stumbled several times until running straight into the famous statue of Lazden. He fell back hitting the ground. An intense pain shot from the wounds to his heart. Odder pounded his chest until the pain departed. That’s new, he thought.

  He glanced up at the granite figure holding a broadsword. A gold plaque at the base read, Lazden – Holder of the Light.

  “You servant, have some respect,” said an obese old elf, dressed in an olive jacket and matching pants. His gold-chained belt, violet scarf, large rings, and a ruby-tipped cane implied nobility. “Don’t you know who this is? Lazden, the slayer.” He picked up his cane and swatted Odder several times in the shoulder and back. “Disrespectful youth.”

  “I meant no disrespect, my lord,” Odder said, attempting to dodge the geezer’s blows.

  Several curious townsfolk stopped to observe the commotion but became disinterested and went on their way.

  A peacekeeping sentry approached. “Is there trouble here?”

  “This degenerate has no respect for our heroes.” The old elf said while shaking his stick at Odder.

  “I’m sorry, my lord,” said Odder. “Just a misunderstanding.”

  The guard closed his eyes and shook his head. He nudged them both in two different directions. “Alright, there’s no harm here. You two get on your way.”

  “Yes, sir.” Odder ducked behind the statue and out of sight.

  What an awful day.

  He made a quick survey of the area. To the west ascended the Mountains of Adeldus with their majestic, white-tipped peaks soaring into the heavens, and the splendid castle of the House of Elestus, perched against the mountain’s granite side. Odder considered how grave the day turned out and decided to travel north from the arena, past the southern watchtower, and around the corner to the market. Fewer guards that way.

  Odder lifted his nose. The aroma of freshly baked bread, roasting anzu, and fried wild gris filled the air. A sudden stampede of forest gnomes rushed past, knocking him to the ground. He stood, annoyed, and brushed the dirt from his pants.

  The market always buzzed with activity due to King Gralon’s protection spell which surrounded the castle, allowing a safe place for the kingdom to trade. Creatures of every kind haggled within the castle walls. Elves from other townships, giants, fairies, dwarves, forest beast, an occasional satyr, and even gnomes – although most would welcome the exile of their mischievous species – came to barter items such as their daily meals, magic potions, livestock, weapons, tools, and wardrobes.

  Today, though, appeared to be extra busy. It seemed the entire kingdom crowded the streets preparing for the coming Tetrad. Merchants capitalized on the traffic by posting signs warning of the event. The brightly colored signs battled for every onlooker’s attention.

  “You there, young elf. I have here unique and rare spices from the Mist Islands. These spices belong to the wealthy. However, for you, two silver ducats.”

  “Oh shut up swindler. How is perfume going to protect him when the goblins attack?” said a merchant with a rat-like face. He waved to get Odder’s attention. “What this lad needs is dragon armor. Gaze at this exquisite breastplate made from the scales of a spotted greenwing dragon –”

  “Swindler, me? The spotted greenwing dragon is hardly a dragon at all, more like a forest lizard.”

  Odder stood silent, forgotten by the two merchants as they argued. He slipped away only to be drawn in by another dealer.

  “You too can wield the flaming sword of Maha’De with this authentic replica.” He held a flaming sword and waved it in the air leaving trails of fire in its wake. “The fire is just an illusion of course.” He smiled. “Two gold ducats.”

  “Wow, expensive.” But amazing, Odder thought. “Can I hold it?”

  The merchant spoke through his teeth. “Move on. This replica is not for servants.”

  Odder scowled at him.

  “We have no need of any sword,” said a voice, calm yet stern like a breeze over a field of wheat.

  A tall, thin monk dressed in a white hooded robe with a golden cord around his waist motioned for Odder. He held a staff with a symbol of a golden eye at the top and stood at the entryway of an ivory tent.

  “I am Thalius, and we are the Followers of the Light. You should consider joining our pilgrimage to the Great Tetrad’s portal.” He held out a rolled-up scroll. “After the Champion’s Quest, we’ll journey to each of the Seven Houses to experience their magical essence, and then to the portal to witness the Divine.”

  Odder grimaced with no desire to be part of any cult. “No thank you.” He waved both hands in front of him and took several steps back.

  “Are you saying no to the Creator and the Celestines?”

  “The Creator gave up on me long ago, and the Celestines – has anyone ever seen one?”

  “Just because we do not see, does not mean they do not exist.” The monk held out his hand. “Please join my brothers and me in the tent. We can enlighten you and make you a believer.”

  “Uh, no. I’m really not interested.” Odder turned and quickened his pace, this time ignoring the sales pitches of the other merchants.

  “These are not magic beans.” A rough voice yelled from around the corner. “These are worthless mung beans dipped in glitter.”

  “I assure you these are the beans you are looking for,” countered another voice. “No need to yell and draw attention. We can work this out.”

  “Why, so you can deceive others?” The voice yelled across the crowd. “Tonks, this merchant’s trying to steal from us.”

  Odder shook his head after he recognized the voice.

  “Finkle?” said Odder. Trouble follows that gnome like sprites to mulder berries.

  “Your fortune told?” As if snared in a net, a sweet feminine voice captured Odder’s attention.

  He gazed at her, mesmerized by her piercing blue eyes. “S… s… sorry, I have to grab a foolish gnome before he gets into real trouble.”

  “Looks like the gnome can handle himself. Perhaps you have a question that needs an answer?”

  “I do,” Odder said, surprised by his low trance-like tone. He sat on a rickety chair in front of a round, red table with a hovering sign that read, “Discover Your Fate Before the Tetrad.”

  “I have a question no one can seem to answer.” Odder stared wide-eyed at the fortuneteller sitting in front of him. A black silk veil covered her face exposing only her eyes. Her long silver hair weaved into a tight ponytail, and she wore a dark violet cloak. A thin white cloth covered her arms and slipped under her linen gloves.

  She reached toward Odder, revealing crimson leather clothing underneath the many layers of fabric. “Very well. My fee is three silver ducats.”

  Odder frowned. “I have no money.”

  The fortuneteller glanced to her left and right. “I like your short silver hair,” she whispered with a smile. “It’s different.” She smiled and pulled back her hand. “I’m feeling generous today. This one is free.”

  “Thank you,” Odder said, smiling. “I am different as it turns out and that’s what I’d like to ask you about.”

  “Aren’t we all?” she said, snarky.

  “I’m magicless.” He bit his lower lip. “
Can you tell me why?”

  The fortuneteller leaned in and examined him. “A vekart?” She sat back. “No such thing. Every living creature possesses magic.”

  “Except me.”

  “The label vekart is just an insult,” she explained, her words quick and sharp.

  “I can’t wield magic like other elves,” Odder insisted. “Spells can’t even heal me. I can prove it.”

  She leaned in and gave Odder a skeptical eye. “You’ve peaked my interest.”

  “A healer examined me with a lens from a seeker’s eye and found nothing. She said I lack even a simple aura.”

  “Your healer is incompetent.”

  She searched under the table and pulled out a small leather pouch. She emptied several individually wrapped spheres and placed them in front of her.

  “Which eye did the healer use?” She asked, removing the covers.

  “The big one.” He wrinkled his nose, recalling his dislike of the giant eye.

  “The seekers are bred to be hunters. Magic comes in different forms, and the seeker’s seven eyes are designed to detect all magic.” She held up a light blue lens to her eye and gazed at Odder. “Humph.” She grabbed a yellow one. “Humph.” And so on until she placed the last one on the table.

  Odder sank into his chair, sensing her pessimism.

  She placed her fingers over her mouth. “What’s your name?”

  “Odder.”

  She furrowed her brow. “Peculiar name but not as strange as your absence of magic. Impossible really. All creatures come from the spirit realm of magic.” The fortuneteller leaned back. “You are a mystery.” She covered her mouth again for several seconds this time. “Are you holding any amulets, crystals, rings, marks –”

  “Marks!” Odder interrupted and fumbled for his sleeve. “These markings appeared as blisters on my forearm this morning and now have distinct patterns.” He pulled back his sleeve and bandages to show her.

  “Ah.” She gripped his arm, pulling it close. “I’ve seen these before.”

  Odder’s brows lifted. “You have? I thought my gnome friend played a prank on me. What do they mean?”

  “This infinity symbol represents the Tetrad. These other three are demon symbols.”

  “Demon symbols?” He said, withdrawing from the table. “How?”

  She shuffled through her lenses. “This is the one.” She held a light pink lens to her eyes and examined his markings. “Hmm… Ah, yes –”

  “What? What do you see?”

  “Your wrappings covered the faint aura given off by your symbols.”

  Nervous anticipation filled Odder. He tightened his muscles until he shook. “Please tell me.”

  She placed the lens back into its wrapping with the care of a surgeon. “I know why you can’t wield magic.” She lowered her brow and sighed. “You’re cursed.”

  “Don’t listen to her. She’s trying to deceive you,” said his inner voice.

  Confused, Odder tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

  She pointed at his forearm. “See here? Here? And here? These three demons are obstructing your magic. Someone’s placed a powerful demon curse on you.”

  “It’s a trick,” his inner voice said. “Run away now.”

  Odder settled his thoughts. He needed answers.

  “But why? I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t know.” The fortuneteller leaned back and placed her fingertips together. “But let me ask you a question. Do you want the ability to wield magic?”

  His face brightened with hope. “Yes, more than anything.”

  She leaned forward, placed her hands on the table, and glanced around.

  “I believe I can help you,” she whispered.

  He found himself frozen to his seat. He tried to swallow, but it was an effort he made three times before he did.

  Could it be possible?

  “No!” His inner voice replied. “Unless you sell your soul.”

  His chair creaked as he leaned back and cleared his throat. “And what do you want from me?”

  “Can you get me into the King’s Masquerade?”

  “The ball?” He shook his head. “Only honored guests and royalty can attend. Why?”

  She smiled. “I come from a poor village, and I would be the envy of every maiden if I attended such a glorious event.”

  Odder pulled at his jaw for several moments. “I might be able to get you in as a servant.”

  Her eyes sparkled. “Better than nothing.”

  “So how do I get my magic?”

  “There’s a master wizard, a wizard of potions. He dwells south of here in the marshlands, and he possesses a compilation of demon lore.”

  “And he can help?” asked Odder.

  “Gnome attack! Gnome attack!”

  Odder jumped to his feet at the sound of the voice crying out. Different colors and sizes of seeds scattered through the air. A small crowd of bodies fled from a nearby stand. A merchant swatted at several potato size gnomes as they pulled on his sparse head of hair. One dangled from the elf’s forked beard, while another – to Odder’s horror – looked like Finkle clutching on the merchant’s brow, and punched his eye.

  Flailing his thin arms and hands in the air, the merchant cried, “Help! Help!”

  “I’m sorry. I have to go, but I’ll be back.” Odder raced toward the ruckus.

  Reckless gnomes. Especially Finkle. Friend or not, I’m NOT helping him out of this mess.

  He stood in the crowd, watching for a few moments. The event reminded him of a carnival act and certainly entertained its unwitting audience. The small gnomes jumped and bounced off the merchant’s head and body at every attempt to grab them. Each time, they took pot shots at his face.

  Odder shook his head. “Finkle. Finkle! Get over here. The guards will be here soon.”

  Finkle peered over, gave Odder a quick wink, and popped the merchant in the eye again.

  Odder threw his hands in the air. “Fine, you Tonks sleep well in your prison cell tonight.”

  Annoyed, he made his way through the spectators and back to the fortuneteller, only to be greeted by her empty chair.

  “Fortuneteller, I’m back.”

  Only silence answered.

  “Hello?”

  He peeked around. The sign above the table caught his attention: “Closed.”

  Odder sat in the creaky chair to wait for her return and took advantage of the extra time to observe the elves, creatures, and merchants going about their business. A sudden gleam of light captured his sight, just past the fortuneteller’s booth, away from the bartering, and in a back alley of some cobblestone homes. A parchment posted on a wall flashed, Learn Magic Here.

  He paused, cupped his elbow with one hand and tapped his lips with the other. He stood and moved toward the alley. Standing in front of the laminated parchment, he thought, this is an unusual place for a class.

  “Hey slug,” a heated voice said.

  He spun around. Renzt stood with his two younger brothers, loathing in their eyes.

  Renzt pounded his fist into his palm. “You remember my two brothers, Pithy and Curt?”

  Great. The bully and his two egg-shaped brothers. How do I talk my way out of this?

  “Plead for forgiveness,” Odder’s inner voice said.

  “Renzt, I overreacted at the arena.” He tiptoed backward until he hit a wall. “I let my anger overtake me. It won’t happen again.”

  Renzt stepped toward Odder. “Your excuses are like vomit and sicken me. I told you I’d come for you, and now it’s time to teach you a lesson.”

  “I understand you’re upset, but I’ve had enough of your lessons,” said Odder, taking a quick glance around for an escape route.

  “Oh yeah?” the three said in unison.

  Renzt held out his hand, and a walnut size fireball appeared. Pithy belched and spit out green acid that fizzled as it fell, and Curt pulled a small rusty dagger from his belt.

  As the gang appro
ached, Odder pulled out his wooden sword. “Stay back, please,” he said, stammering.

  “Oh, this is delightful,” Renzt said, with a sly grin. “Do you think your stick will help you this time? Begging for mercy would be a better choice.”

  “You don’t really wanna pick on him,” said a stern, feminine voice from behind the elves.

  “He’s no match against such great wizards, and that wouldn’t be any fun.”

  Immediately, the three bullies and Odder turned. Against the stone wall stood a petite figure wearing a dark violet cloak which hung from her shoulders. A hood covered her head and face, while she donned a crimson leather vest and a black skirt. A leather belt, which sheathed two daggers, wrapped around her thin waist.

  “We could have more fun with you instead.” Renzt licked his lips.

  “No, that wouldn’t be fun either.” She raised her hands and disappeared in a cloud of black smoke. A split second later, she appeared in front of Renzt. She grabbed and twisted his left hand outward, while at the same time sending her left palm into his jaw. He flew back several feet and landed in a slop bucket.

  Odder fixated on the action and followed her movements.

  Is that… the fortuneteller?

  Pithy and Curt looked at each other, shrugged, and raced toward the cloaked female. Pithy bellowed while projecting acid and Curt sliced the air as if cutting cabbage. Just before reaching her, she disappeared in a burst of dark smoke and reappeared behind the thugs. A swift kick behind Pithy’s knee, made him fall to the ground. She chopped Curt’s neck and punched him in the kidney. When he fell to his knees, she raised her leg and kicked him in the back of the head with the heel of her leather boot. Curt dropped his knife and fell with a thud.

  Pithy spotted the blade, grabbed it, and thrust the knife into the fortuneteller’s thigh.

  She screamed, pulled the knife out, and tossed it to the ground. “Gross! Rusty blade.” She flared her nostrils. “Fine, I like to play with knives too.” She pushed her cloak back and withdrew two large, glowing daggers.

  The foot-long black blades curved at the tips with large serrated edges near the top and smaller serrated edges toward the bottom. The appearance suggested death to any challengers.

  The attackers’ faces turned pale at the sight. Pithy and Curt stumbled away, grabbed Renzt under his skinny arms, and sprinted out of the alley.