Odder- The Blood Curse

by Nathaniel Red

  “Are you alright?” she asked.

  Odder shook his head from side to side, “I think so.”

  She remained silent and put away her daggers.

  “Fortuneteller?” Odder asked with uncertainty in his tone.

  “That’s me,” she said with a smirk.

  “Thank you.” Relieved, he walked toward her. “Is your leg alright?”

  She turned and started for the main road. “It’s good.”

  “Wait, where are you going?”

  “I can’t stay here. Guards will flood this alley any moment.”

  “I don’t even know your name.”

  “Can you keep a secret?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, so can I.”

  He stopped following. “I’m the servant to the King’s son. I’ll ask him to reward you for helping me. He’s a fine master and soon to be Champion.”

  The fortuneteller stopped, paused for a moment, and then disappeared in that same dark cloud of smoke. She reappeared in front of him, grabbed his mouth, and pushed him back. She stared into Odder’s eyes. “Fine master? You know nothing of the King’s son.”

  Odder’s eyes sprung open. He wanted to say something, but her hand held his mouth shut.

  Her bare face and arms revealed her unique features. Her body petite and youthful, but her skin was pale gray like spent ash after a night’s fire. Black tattoos of various symbols shifted and moved on her skin as if they had a life of their own. Still captivated by her piercing crystal blue eyes, he relaxed. She pulled back her hood and revealed long silver hair streaked with black.

  She’s a dark elf. I’ve never seen one this close.

  She continued to stare into his eyes, then turned his head from one side to the other as if inspecting his facial features. “Oh, Oddy. What am I to do with you?”

  “I-gosom-sproot-fo-yo-lay,” Odder mumbled.

  She gave a puzzled expression and released his jaw. “Whataya saying?”

  “I got some spirit root for your leg.” He handed her the root.

  She let out a hearty laugh. “Serra.”

  “Serra?”

  “Yes, my name is Serra.” She released him and walked toward the street.

  “Wait! What about our deal?”

  She stopped. “Maybe. Can you still get me into the masquerade?”

  A gruff voice from behind made Odder jump. “There you are! Why did you run off? You missed the best part.”

  Odder turned to find Finkle standing without his hat, red hair flared out like an old beaten mop, showing off his blackened eye with apparent pride.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without your hat,” he said, with a laugh. “Finkle, this is Serra.” He turned to introduce the gnome to the maiden, but she had vanished, and in her place drifted only a faint mist of dark smoke.

  CHAPTER 4

  THE ELESTUS ARCHIVES

  Finkle took a bite from an anzu leg then pointed it at Odder. “You expect me to believe that a fortunetelling, tattooed dark elf, swooped in and rescued you from the town bully and his brothers, then disappeared in a haze of black smoke?”

  “Her name is Serra,” Odder said, shifting his weight on the wooden bench, “And yes.”

  The gnome shrugged. “Alright then.” He took another bite. “Tell me more about these markings you accused me of giving you.”

  Odder scratched his head. “Really? So you don’t find what happened with Serra unusual?

  The gnome tapped his head with the half-eaten leg. He paused and opened his mouth, then closed it and started tapping again.

  Odder rolled his eyes. “Oh, stop it.” Finkle burst out in laughter with Odder joining in. “Alright, alright. She examined the symbols with a seekers eye and found them to be enchanted.”

  The gnome passed his plate over to share his meal.

  “And she thinks the markings are a demon curse,” Odder added. “She knows a wizard who can help me.”

  “Sounds suspicious,” Finkle said. “Maybe she’s a bog witch trying to steal your soul?” He took a swig of a drink.

  Odder shook his head. “No way. She’s beautiful and has these amazing eyes.”

  Finkle’s smirk grew and turned into a laugh. He pounded his cup on the table. “Ah, you’re smitten with her.”

  Odder’s face grew hot. “No.”

  “Ha ha!” The gnome jumped off the bench and ran in tight circles.

  “Stop that, you ridiculous creature.”

  Finkle rolled into a cartwheel and jumped back on the bench. “You must court her.” He held his arms up as if holding something, arched his back, and tiptoed toward Odder. “You sneak up behind her, throw a burlap bag over her body, and drag her into a potato garden. If out of season, a radish garden will do. You then-”

  Odder covered his ears. “Ugh… no more.”

  Finkle grimaced and sat back down.

  “I’m really not interested in the gnomes mating rituals.”

  “Fine, suit yourself.”

  After a moment of awkward silence, Odder changed the subject. “So, what was all that fighting about with the merchant?”

  “That crook tried to sell me useless beans,” Finkle said, pouting. “They were supposed to be enchanted. You know the kind?”

  “Beanstalk?” Odder asked.

  “No,” Finkle responded. His head sunk into his shoulders. “Plant them and get a nymph.”

  “What,” Odder yelled, “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” He erupted in laughter. “You’re a gnome. You know you can’t plant beans and get a magic nymph to sprout out of the ground. What would you do with it anyway? Trap it in a burlap bag?”

  The gnome’s face turned the same shade as his peach fuzz. “Well, I figured it out faster than a leaping bloodworm, and I let my family know too.”

  Grinning, Odder asked, “And the guards, how did you get away from them?”

  “This merchant’s been cheating townsfolk for weeks. The guards finally had proof, so they let us go if we promised not to cause any more fights.”

  “There you are,” said a soft voice, walking up behind Odder.

  They both turned – Finkle almost falling from his seat.

  “Remember me, the healer?” She asked, her tone sarcastic. “We were supposed to meet.”

  “Yes of course,” said Odder as he stood. “Sorry, I got into a little trouble and forgot.”

  “Well, at least I found you. No harm done, I suppose.” Aimma shrugged. “Sorry for startling you.”

  “No apologies needed.”

  “Missy, I need an apology. You nearly knocked me off my seat,” the gnome snapped.

  Odder gave his friend a stern gaze. “Don’t mind him. He’s bitter over some bad beans.”

  “Well I am sorry, little gnome, and don’t you look cute with your fluffy hair.” She bent over and pinched his cheek. Finkle wrinkled his nose and gave her a harsh stare.

  “Maybe this will help your mood.” She reached into her satchel, searched for a moment, then handed him a small cloth bag.

  The gnome grasped it with both hands, held it close to his nose and floated to his back. He rolled back and forth snorting like a baby pig in warm mud.

  Odder stood silent, his mouth open and eyes as big as saucers. “What did you do to him?”

  “Don’t worry. The bag’s filled with fresh hibiscus petals from Salutaria. Gnomes find it irresistible.” Aimma sat next to the gnome and tickled his tummy. “I did some checking on your condition, and I’m certain I know what it is.”

  “A curse,” Odder said.

  Aimma raised her eyebrows. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

  He sat next to the healer. “I had a conversation with a fortuneteller.” He pulled up his sleeve. “She discovered my symbols do give off traces of magic.”

  “But I didn’t find anything.” She stopped tickling the gnome. “Are you sure she wasn’t trying to swindle you out of a few gold ducats?”

  “Swindl
e yes, but not for gold,” Finkle chimed in as he sat up.

  Odder shook his head at the gnome. “No, I told her I didn’t have any money, and she still wanted to help. Besides, she rescued me from getting clobbered.”

  “Oh really?” Aimma stiffened her posture. “Please, tell me more.”

  “She emerged from a cloud of sulfur and flew through the air like a screaming shadow creature.” The gnome held out his fingers and made an angry snarl. “Her fierce claws ripping -”

  “Stop it, Finkle,” scolded Odder. “She just saved me from the town bullies.”

  “Well, this is the market, and nothing is free,” said Aimma. “You shouldn’t trust her.”

  Odder shrugged while Finkle nodded his head in agreement.

  “I don’t specialize in curses but I can tell this isn’t an ordinary hex.” Aimma grabbed Odder’s arm. “Whatever placed this spell on you, wanted to keep you from doing magic.

  “So how do I break the spell?” Odder asked.

  “I spoke with sorceress Obeah, and she believes you may have a demon curse.”

  Odder’s expression did not change.

  “Hello?” Aimma’s expression grew disbelieving again. “I said ‘demon curse.’ Not your typical spell. You should be shocked, Odder.”

  “Sorry, but I already know.”

  “Let me guess, the fortuneteller told you?”

  “She suggested I visit a great wizard who lives in the marshlands.”

  “Marshlands? Now I know she’s conning you.” Aimma stood. “The sorceress wants to examine you herself, and she insisted I bring you to her.” She reached for Odder’s hand. “This way.”

  Odder glanced at the positions of the two suns in the sky. Kellas had just overtaken the slower Ophelia.

  Midday.

  “I have my servant duties, and I’m scheduled to meet my master in a couple of hours. I don’t think I have enough time.”

  “Nonsense,” Aimma said. “There’s plenty of time. Besides, we are meeting her at the Elestus Archives which is on your way.” She turned toward the gnome. “Sorry Finkle, I have to take my hibiscus back, but you are welcome to join us.”

  The gnome tightened his grip. “Just a little longer?”

  Aimma squinted and pursed her lips.

  “Oh alright,” Finkle huffed and placed the bag in her hands. “I’ll meet you two there.” He did an aerial flip off the bench. “I have to purchase a new hat. I’m thinking of a new style – a fez or a chullo perhaps.”

  “Whatever it is, I’m sure it will be outrageous,” Odder said. “Meet us in front of the archives when you're done.”

  The gnome saluted and jumped off into the crowd.

  “He’s a good friend,” Odder told Aimma as they walked out of the market.

  “I’m sure he is. Do you have any elf friends?”

  “No.” Odder paused. His master came to mind, but he dismissed the thought. “How about you?”

  “I have a few in Salutaria, but I don’t have time to socialize here while I intern to become a wizard in healing.”

  “How far have you gotten?”

  Aimma smiled, pulling up her sleeve. “I accomplished apprentice within a year and invoker seven months later. Now I’m a conjuror.”

  “Wow. You must be brilliant.”

  She blushed and pulled down her sleeve. “This way, we’re close.”

  ***

  Odder peered at the large gray granite building.

  Plain, he thought.

  Nevertheless, his curiosity grew, and he ran up to the ten-foot-high wooden doors and tried to pull them open.

  “Don’t bother. A lock spell seals the doors.” Aimma raised her hand to the door and chanted, “Signa aper ostium.”

  The doors flashed, and a decrepit face formed in the wood. “Who wishes to enter?”

  “Aimma of Salutaria.”

  “What is your business here?”

  “The sorceress Obeah is expecting us.”

  The face disappeared, and the doors creaked open. Torches illuminated the interior. Odder shifted his eyes back and forth.

  “Not at all what I expected,” he admitted. “Where are all the books? I only see one.”

  The only book in sight sat on a single table on the far side of the room.

  “It’s a thick book, though,” Aimma said. “Elves use magic remember? I realize you lack wizardry teachings because of your handicap, but with magic - one can put endless information into a small space.” She pointed down a hall. “This way. The sorceress is expecting you.”

  A sudden fear gripped Odder. He held his stomach, trying to maintain his composure while following her, but insecurity bittered his gut.

  “They cannot help you,” his inner voice said, with a cold harshness.

  “Odder.” Aimma squeezed his arm. “Are you alright?”

  He grimaced. “Just felt ill for a moment. Let’s get this over with.”

  As they approached the end of the hall, the faint sounds of horns and strings filled the air. Upon entering a room, a sweet, high-pitched voice, like that of the winebirds, greeted them. “Welcome, my dear lad.”

  Odder’s stomach climbed into his throat as he searched for the source of the voice.

  “I am the sorceress Obeah. Please have a seat.”

  Odder sat on a wooden chair upholstered in fine leather. He bowed his head.

  “Sorceress.”

  “Please Odder, this is an informal meeting.” Obeah shifted her headdress, a rather bulky white cone that curved forward into a point. The sides fanned out like bird wings and rustled when she turned. “Welcome to my private library. It has taken me centuries to collect everything you see here.”

  “Impressive. Now, this looks like an archive,” Odder said.

  Rows and rows of books and scrolls surfaced the walls. Bones of unidentifiable creatures stood in various poses, and labeled jars of different organs sat on dusted shelves. In the center, several granite tables and wooden chairs offered a warm welcome. The room illuminated brightly even without the presence of torches and candles as a harp and horn played a pleasing melody in the corner. “Indeed.” She directed her attention back to Odder. “Aimma told me of your markings. May I inspect them?”

  “Yes of course.” He held out his arm and rolled up his sleeve.

  She pushed herself out of the seat and glided over to the elf. The combination of her weight and age made her slow – not to mention the many layers of red, yellow, and gold fabric weighing on her short frame. Without warning and surprising strength, she gripped his wrist and pulled him close.

  “Ah... Aimma, please bring me the Tome of Demons located in the category Curses, segment thirteen, section nine, item two, volume seven.”

  Aimma faced the southern wall, raised her hands, and twirled her fingers in a variety of patterns – each of which meant nothing to Odder. With every distinct motion, stacks of books slid and shifted until only one volume stood out. She motioned for its retrieval, and it floated obediently into her hands. She placed the tome on the table next to the sorceress.

  “Thank you, my dear.” Obeah reached under the sash at her waist and pulled out a glass wand.

  The wand pulsated as sparks ignited within its sleek body.

  She tapped the cover, and the book sprung open. She waved her wand, and the pages danced from side to side like puppets under the spell of their master. The sound of shuffling pages echoed in the room. This continued for some time before she tapped the book once more and it closed with a loud, resounding thud. The music stopped.

  With a somber expression, she returned to her seat.

  “I can confirm this is no ordinary curse. It’s a demon curse spreading poison in your arm like a cancer, and it’s spreading. As for the meaning of the markings, I’m sorry. I cannot identify the symbols. You will need to go to a greater authority than I to discover how to break the spell.”

  Odder lowered his head. “This curse, is it lethal?”

  “It may be.”
<
br />   Fear raged in his mind like a relentless storm. Odder’s eyes burned, and he turned away. “I suppose there’s no cure?”

  Aimma reached for his hand and patted it twice before releasing him.

  “Head up now. I did not say the shadow reapers are coming for you.” The sorceress slammed her palm on the table. “There is always a solution. Aimma, search the Elestus archives for the Divine Oracle and take Odder to him. You will have to be creative. Not just anyone can meet the Oracle.”

  “Yes, sorceress Obeah.” She bowed her head then nudged Odder to follow.

  “I cannot help you from this point forward. I am toward the end of my years, and I’m too old to keep up with you. I assign Aimma as your healer.” Obeah winked at the young maiden. “No charge, Aimma. Consider Odder’s condition as part of your apprenticeship. Now go and seek your cure.”

  ***

  Aimma stood over a book with Odder at her side. She placed her hands over the outer cover.

  “Aper suri signa.”

  A metallic odor filled the room, and the book opened not to pages, but to fine white sand in its middle.

  “Search for the Divine Oracle,” Aimma said.

  The sand flew into the air, making a rough swooshing sound, then filled the room, and formed thousands of words and pictures.

  “That’s a lot of information.” Odder mumbled, rubbing his face. “Maybe you can be more specific.”

  Aimma addressed the book again. “Where is the Divine Oracle?”

  The pictures and words shifted in the air, turning back into sand before falling back into the book until only a three-dimensional floor plan of a castle hovered in their place.

  Aimma used her hands to manipulate the picture, enlarging it, and changing positions. “Here, I found the location. It appears to be under the King’s war room.”

  Odder threw his hands up. “Wonderful. Another dead end.”

  “We only need to obtain permission from the King.”

  “He will never grant that request.”

  She made a dismissive sound. “You give up too easily. We ask, and if he says no, we may still have another option.” Aimma spread her hands apart, enlarging only a specific piece of the floor plan. “Here.” She pointed at an air shaft. “If we can gain entry into the room above, we can make our way down the shaft, bypass the war room, and enter from this passage below.”