“You said the tree looked bad, Finkle. It looks dead,” said Odder, crushing a handful of crisp leaves in his fist.
“Almost.” Finkle leaped from root to root, swatting at the sprites, until he reached the trunk. “Magic still courses through its veins but be careful and watch your step. Some of the roots are brittle and the soil unstable.”
Odder hopped off one root, stepped on another, and leaped toward the trunk. “No rotten roots here.” He stomped several times on the base root. “Except this one sounds a bit hollow…”
The large root collapsed, sending Odder knee-deep into the hollow root. A group of sprites swarmed around him, making a slight whistling noise which sounded like laughter.
“Odder!” Finkle yelled – then paused.
Odder wiped his forehead, his knees pressed together. “I think I pissed myself.”
Finkle laughed with Odder joining in. Crack! He fell another few inches.
“You better get out of there.”
“I’m trying, but it’s slimy.” The root quivered and shook. CRUNCH! Odder disappeared, debris flying into the air, and sprites scattered in every direction.
Finkle yelled into the hollow root. “Odder!”
Odder sat up and in a faint voice answered, “I’m alright… I think.”
“Where are you?” Finkle asked.
He gazed up through a haze of dirt and spotted the faintly lit hole with Finkle’s head peering down at him.
“I’m about twenty feet below,” he called, squinting at his surroundings. “It’s dark. I think I’m in a cavern along with a few sprites. I can feel the tree under my fingers – and mud – lots of it. The air’s damp and smells like death.”
Finkle waved away the dust. “I can't see you.”
A faint ray of light lit the floor next to Odder. He stepped into it and peered up at Finkle, shielding his eyes.
“Anything broken?” asked the gnome.
“No, but get me out of here. It’s creepy.”
“Of course.” Finkle went silent. “But what’s on your shoulder?”
“A root,” said Odder, until it’s finger-like appendages moved, disproving his certainty.
“Ugh!” He swiped at the dangling creature, sending it soaring away into the darkness. “Nasty. A dangling-leg spider.” He shivered. “I hate spiders.”
Memories of the exploding egg and spider parts plastered to the wall danced across his vision. He blinked twice, hard. Now wasn’t the time to reminisce on that part of his day.
Finkle giggled.
“Yeah, hilarious,” said Odder. “Now, how about some help?”
“Alright. Stand still. I’m going to levitate you out.” Finkle chanted several magic words and lifted his hands upward. A soft green glow surrounded the hole before fading. He paused and twiddled his tassel.
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing. Just stand still.”
Finkle rubbed his hands in a rapid circular motion while saying a magic phrase. “Leve medio tene arum.” Dirt flew into his face, and he coughed. “Blaaah.”
“Quit joking around.”
“I’m not,” Finkle said, wiping the dirt off his face. “My magic is being redirected somehow. I’m going to grab momma and the others. Will you be all right for a few?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“You have the sprites to keep you safe. I’ll be back before you can say ‘Finkle-Tonk-and-the-Tonks-fidget-with-the-frogs-in-the-bogs…” The words faded as Finkle left.
“Not funny! Not funny at all.” Odder stood still in the darkness. His thoughts wandered.
I wonder how many of those spiders are down here. He pulled out his wooden sword and held it up. Probably hundreds. He blinked and looked from side to side, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark. Something besides the sprites caught his eye. He swung to face it, raising his sword – his mouth became parched from dread.
“Who’s there?” The shifting of roots and dirt made its way to his ears. His arms quivered as he pointed his sword toward the noise. “I said who’s there?”
Six tiny yellow eyes cut through the darkness. Odder gasped. The sprites flew at once to hide behind him.
“I have a sword.” He stammered. “A magic sword,” he lied. “Stay back!”
The yellow eyes blinked in a random pattern, making Odder dizzy. A shrill echo bounced around the chamber as a golden mist swirled from the creature, lighting up the darkness with a faint, threatening glow. “Are you the messenger from Queen Sorren?”
Odder’s blood draining from his petrified face to his knotted stomach. He stumbled backward.
The creature stepped forward. Odder had never seen anything like it. Its six eyes sunk into a hairless, wrinkly head. Two large front teeth with flat edges ran from the base of its stubby nose to its chin, and serrated teeth traveled along the sides of its jaw to its ear holes. Odder coughed out words as if he swallowed sawdust.
“Wha…what are you?”
The creature stepped closer, revealing a hairless, thin body, along with three horrendous claws on each hand. It ripped off a chunk of root and stripped the bark in its teeth. The sprites shrieked.
“I am Agris of Santhe.” Its sneer revealed more serrated teeth.
“Are you the demon?” Odder asked, his voice shuddered.
The creature opened its mouth nearly to the back of its head, and let out another high-pitched shrilling sound, then took another bite of the root. “I serve my Queen.” It pointed a claw at the elf and repeated, “Are you the messenger?”
Odder shook his head. The creature scowled, its teeth disappearing though it looked no less fearsome. “Then you die.”
It lurched forward without warning.
“Finkle!” Odder shouted.
He staggered backward, tripped, and fell with his face directly below the hole. The sunlight inflicted temporary blindness, and he cried out in pain and fear. As he struggled to focus, the strong, sour stench of the creature’s breath surrounded him. The sprites flew at the creature and buzzed around its eyes, showering it with sparkling dust. It stepped back and swatted at the sprites, grabbing one and throwing it into its mouth.
“FINKLE!”
A large vine whacked Odder’s head. He peered up, his vision still dull, but he recognized his dear friend. He gripped the vine, held tight, and ascended as fast as his arms would take him. He gazed back down to see a sprite’s legs and wings sticking out between the creature’s teeth, while it gripped the other in its claws.
I’m sorry.
Finkle yanked him out by his collar. “I got you and by the Seven Pillars of Laztus, what is that?”
“Yes, what is that?” Repeated several other gnomes, holding the vine in trembling hands.
Odder sat with his head buried in his arms. Finkle frowned and reached for his friend’s shoulder. “You’re safe now.”
“That monster almost killed me.”
Several dozen gnomes gathered near. Odder lifted his head. “So that’s how you pulled me up,” he said, attempting to ease the situation.
“Mostly me,” Finkle said, holding his chin high, “But they helped.”
Odder brushed the dirt off his arms. “Thank you, friends.”
“Tell me more about this creature.”
“Momma Tonk?” Odder sniffled then delivered a smile. “It’s good to see you again.”
“You too, lad.” She tapped him on the leg with her cane. “Are you injured?”
“No, just terrified.”
“There is nothing to fear now.” She motioned for some of the gnomes to stand around the hole. “Please describe the creature.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Turning his head from side to side, he recalled the details.
“It’s hideous, had six yellow eyes, no hair, wrinkly skin like a muskmole, long sharp claws, and big teeth – so many teeth.” He opened his eyes and caught his breath. “It reeked of sour milk, and most of all it’s feeding on the tree’s roots.”
>
The elderly gnome tilted her head to the side and tapped her cane on the nearest root. “Interesting.”
“Oh, and it said it serves Queen Sorren.”
A series of gasps came from the gnomes at the hole. Momma Tonk’s ruddy complexion turned ashen. “Tell no one of this,” she said, taking their hands. “I will alert the King myself.”
“Momma?” Finkle questioned.
She pointed her cane. “Tell no one.” Then turned toward the rest. “Tonks stand guard and make sure nothing comes in or out of this hole.” They all agreed and surrounded the opening. She took Odder by the hand and pulled him close. “Don’t worry, lad.”
“I don’t understand. Is there more to this creature?”
“Yes, the creature is strange, but the news about the Queen is disturbing.” She escorted him back to the path. “Finkle, please take Odder back to the castle.”
“Momma Tonk, shouldn’t we tell the guards?” Odder asked. “I can tell the Prince as well.”
She gripped his hand and gave him a harsh stare. “I am the keeper of this garden, and I will notify the King. Tell no one.” She snapped her fingers at Finkle.
“Yes, Momma.” Finkle frowned and kicked a pebble across the trail. “Let’s go, Odder.”
Both Odder and Finkle remained quiet as they walked through the garden. As soon as Odder exited the gates, he turned and grabbed Finkle. “What’s this all about? I was almost killed, and I deserve an explanation.”
Finkle pushed Odder’s hands away. “I don’t know. I’ve never heard of such a creature.”
“What about that Queen?”
“Only rumors. The goblins are mounting their forces, and they need a leader, right? I hear it’s a demon Queen.”
Odder threw his hands in the air. “Sure there are magical creatures of every kind, but demons don’t actually exist, Finkle. Not in this realm at least.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense. Is your mother trying to protect that monster?”
The gnome pointed his nubby finger at Odder. “You better watch what you say. Friend or not, I’ll defend my Momma’s honor.”
“What are you going to do, gnomie? I’ll kick you across the field like a wicker basket.”
“Yeah, I’ll turn your boots to stone and hit you with a stick like a paper elf doll.”
A crackling noise interrupted their argument, and smoky words formed in the air in front of Odder.
Odder, where are you? You’re late. Meet me Immediately – Prince Destin
“Great! You’re lucky, Finkle.”
The gnome kicked dirt several times at Odder’s feet. “No, you’re the lucky one, elf.” He skipped back into the garden. “Better watch yourself.”
CHAPTER 7
IN SILQ WE WORSHIP
The dark clouds released a small downpour before Odder entered the castle. He paused for a moment to take in the aroma.
Ah. Freshly dug up soil, or maybe newly cut bark, he thought to himself.
The rain cascaded down the three-story granite walls, flowing between the cracks and crevices, and finally falling onto the cobblestone. All the windows remained closed except the ones located in the rounded lookout towers where the sentries stood watch. He approached an imposing thirty-foot door; four feet thick and plated with blue-ice dragon scales. The scales radiated a teal hue that some say is visible from as far away as the shadow region. A gatekeeper guarded a smaller cloaked door within the larger one just big enough for an elf.
“Fern, I’m glad you’re here to let me in,” said Odder.
“Name?” asked Fernick.
“Stop messing around. It’s me.” Odder said. “Are you acting this way because of this morning?”
“Name!”
Odder flinched, not expecting Fernick’s sternness. “Odder, servant to Prince Destin.”
“You are permitted to enter.” Fernick held his hand against the door and chanted. His hand flashed. Odder stepped forward into the solid entry. Halfway through, Fernick grabbed his arm and faced him in the barrier. “Familiar or not, these are dangerous times. Question everyone.”
Odder furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”
“We’re being watched, and I have strict orders to report your presence.”
“To who?”
“I cannot say, but I’ve also heard things.”
“Like what?” Odder asked, his tone conceding.
“Whispers in the walls - Scheming and plotting.”
“Am I in danger?”
Fernick’s expression sobered even further. He looked to his left and right. “Just whispers but beware who you trust. You better go through before we draw suspicion.”
Odder stepped into the enormous, deserted foyer with stairs leading to the second level. As his steps echoed through the room and into the great hall, his gut twisted leaving him anxious. Fernick has always been a little strange, but his words were exceedingly peculiar. Is something going to happen to me? He looked around.
Where is everyone? He walked passed the kitchen, and into the servants’ living area. Must be preparing for the ball – like I should be doing.
He pushed against the door to his room when a sharp tongue pierced him from behind.
“There you are, Odder!”
“My lord,” Odder jumped. “I apologize for my tardiness.”
“You’re a wreck, and you smell like rotten mushrooms,” said Destin, frowning.
“I fell into…” He paused, feeling the need to guard his words. “I fell in the garden.”
“Well, good thing our plans have changed. The Archwizard requests your presence. I’ll be taking another servant to help me pick out my masquerade costume.” He waved his hand in front of his nose. “But first, we have to do something about that stench.” He pulled a golden wand from his belt and waved it in a circular motion.
“Niticastus.”
A whirlwind formed around Odder, removing the wetness and dirt, and plopped it on the ground next to him.
“There, you’re presentable. Hurry now. The Archwizard is waiting in his chambers.”
“Yes.” Odder bowed. “Thank you, my lord.” He rushed out of the room.
“Oh and Odder,” the prince called after him. “I do expect you to clean up this mess when you get back.”
“Yes, of course.”
Out the door, into the foyer, and up the stairs he hurried until he reached the second floor and the end of the stately hall. Paintings of past battles decorated the walls. The hall itself appeared dim and gray as if the colors leeched out over the centuries. He called for a torch mounted to the wall. It flew in front of him and escorted him to the archwizard’s chambers.
He paused before knocking.
“Expect an unforgiving punishment from the Archwizard for your foolishness,” Odder’s inner voice said.
He ignored his thoughts, knocked, and waited for a response. After a few moments, he pounded again on the wooden door.
“Turn the handle and enter,” a muffled voice called from the other side.
He turned the iron handles, wincing at the grinding squeal, and pushing the door open. “Archwizard, you summoned me?”
“Yes, Odder. Come in and approach my chair.”
Two others stood next to the Archwizard. The King’s defense advisor, a Xenduri named Drugan, and Renzt. Drugan’s tall and thin frame hunched over the wizard as if whispering in his ear. He wore his typical black hooded cloak that covered every part of his body except his bony hands. The hood shadowed his face, and he never made direct eye contact. A dark elf holding such a high position as the Shield of Elestus, puzzled Odder.
Renzt changed into his typical flashy wardrobe; a turban resembling a red pumpkin, his short purple and yellow cape attached to a vest with multitudes of golden buttons, and his green striped trousers. He snarled at Odder as he approached.
His father, the Archwizard Arzed, wore an even more outrageous outfit. His long hair blew straight up with golden vines framing the strands on both sides.
He wore a red coat with a yellow insert over the chest, and rubies placed along the edge from the collar to the coat-ends demanded attention. His gray, mesh vest appeared to be three sizes too small but matched his silky gray trousers. Green cones capped his sharp ears with golden tassels falling to his neck.
Arzed pressed his left nostril closed as he spoke. “Thank you for your input, Drugan. You may go now.” Drugan tilted his head and walked past Odder, leaving an air of apprehension.
Odder turned his head, following the Xenduri’s exit. As he turned back, he noticed various weapons and shields on display on one side of the room.
“How may I serve you my, lord?” asked Odder.
“Yes, how indeed, sssservant,” Arzad said, stretching out the sound. What do you see mounted on the wall behind me?”
“Seven crowns representing the Seven Houses,” Odder answered with obedience.
Arzed jutted his chin making his lower teeth overlap the top. “Correct. One King to rule each House.” He lifted his head and snorted. “But day-to-day operations are run by the Archwizards.” He held up a vial of silver fluid. Renzt twitched at the sight. “Do you know what this issss?”
“Silq.” The word left Odder’s mouth in a reverent whisper.
“Indeed.” Arzad released his finger from his nose, held the vial to his nostril, and took a long sniff. His eyes protruded, and his posture seized. Moments later, he jerked his finger back to the side of his nose. “The most precious substance in Arcaina. Silq is the blood of our world, intricately woven into our economy, our weapons, and our magic. A single drop is worth one hundred gold ducats.” He held up the vial and examined the fluid. “It’s beautiful. Some have tasted its magic, but instead of finding power, they find madness. Wars fought, kingdoms ended, kings made, and kings destroyed all for this miraculous substance.”
He strolled to the display and lifted a gauntlet from a small table. He placed it on his hand. “The Gauntlet of Thedis. Its magic projects a force that grips, smashes, or knocks down the target.” He tilted the vial over the gauntlet releasing a small drop. “A single drop will increase the magic properties of any magic item, tenfold.”
A bead of sweat traveled from Odder’s forehead to his cheek. Renzt’s snarl changed to a patronizing grin.
Odder- The Blood Curse Page 8
