Practiced now, Marshal and Victor set about collecting firewood while Aelia took stock of provisions. “There’s not much to eat,” Victor pointed out.
“We’ll have enough,” Aelia said. “We should reach another village in a day or two, where we can pick up a few things. That should keep us going until… until we reach where we’re going.”
“Where’s that?” When Aelia didn’t answer, Victor snorted and kept working on the fire.
As they ate later, he tried again to get Aelia to reveal their destination, but she remained firm in her silence.
“I may as well be talking to myself,” Victor muttered. “He can’t talk, and you won’t.”
Marshal gave him a gentle shove. Victor looked at him and he grinned. It was the best he could do. Victor nodded with a half-smile in response.
Around half an hour later, they were beginning to prepare for bed when a man stepped into the circle of firelight. He wore rough clothing, like most of the men Marshal knew, and appeared quite muscular under his coat. He unwound a thick scarf from his face, revealing a heavy, dark beard and a jovial grin.
“Good evening!” he announced. “I do believe it’s a very lucky thing that I found you.”
“Good evening,” Aelia said. “Thank you, but we would prefer to be left to ourselves.”
The man took a step forward, not losing his grin. “Well, I don’t think you really know what you want, milady,” he said with a mocking tone to his voice.
Victor and Marshal both jumped to their feet. “The lady is defended!” Victor said, his eyes blazing. Marshal felt for the dagger inside his coat.
Aelia remained sitting. Her bearing betrayed no stress whatsoever. “You may be uncouth,” she answered, “but you will not harm us. You don’t look like the type of man who would bring a curse down on himself.”
“You’re going to give me exactly what I want,” the man answered, his joviality hardly diminished. He held his hands out to the fire. “I don’t have to worry about curses.”
Marshal started around the fire, but stopped when he caught a glimpse of movement just outside the fire’s light. Another man came into view, holding a thick rope. A curse-stalker strained at the end of it. This one looked more muscular, though not nearly as big as the one they had fought before. Scars criss-crossed its back.
“I think you can begin to see the situation,” the first man said. He pulled off a pair of worn gloves and clapped his hands together. “Mmm, nothing like a fire to warm your bones.” He looked significantly at Aelia. “Well, except a woman, that is.”
The second man came closer and the curse-stalker moved toward Marshal. He backed up and glanced at Victor. His mouth hung open and his eyes darted about. He didn’t know what to do either.
The first man stood over Aelia and looked down at her. “Stand up,” he ordered. She shot a look at Marshal and got to her feet.
“You look like you could warm me up right nicely,” the thug said, looking her up and down. He reached out and took hold of her chin. “And you know why you’re going to do so willingly, right?”
Aelia stared fire into his eyes and did not respond.
“You wouldn’t dare!” Victor broke in. “You–”
“Shut your mouth, son!” the second man snarled. He let the curse-stalker’s rope loose enough for the beast to lunge forward within a couple of feet from Marshal.
The first man looked at Victor, but didn’t take his hand off Aelia. “You don’t seem to grasp the situation here, boy,” he said. “We don’t have to hurt anyone and risk one of Theon’s curses, thanks to our little pet here and your friend. Explain it to him, Marcus.”
Marcus laughed. “You will give us what we want, freely and willingly, or I just let go of this rope. You know what happens then, right?”
“Of course they know,” the first man said. “Look at his face. They already ran into the one that got away.”
Marshal grasped the dagger’s handle underneath his coat. He would not allow his mother to be harmed for him, not like this.
The first man ran his other hand down Aelia’s side. “You look like you have quite a nice shape underneath those clothes,” he said. “Let’s take them off and see if I’m right.”
“I want a turn when you’re done with her, Jolin,” Marcus said. “And then they can give us their food.”
“Good idea,” Jolin answered. “I think I’m about to work up an appetite.” He pulled Aelia toward him and kissed her.
Marshal whipped out the dagger and took a step toward Jolin. But at that moment, his hand began to shake violently. He took another step and the shaking spread up his arm and into his torso. He’d never experienced it this bad. The dagger fell to the ground.
Marcus hooted. “Look a’ this, Jolin! The little Curse Boy can’t even hold his pig-sticker!”
Jolin pulled away from Aelia to see Marshal collapse on the ground, shaking all over. Both men stared in amazement as Marshal rocked back and forth, his body consumed by spasms. The pain from his facial scars flared with each violent tremor.
“He’s having some kind of fit,” Marcus said. “You ever seen a curse like this before?”
“Devouring fire,” Jolin murmured. “That’s…” He released Aelia and touched his index finger to his palm. “Evil is what it is. Maybe we should let the beast have him, after all.”
“You’re the evil ones!” Jolin looked back to see Aelia drop to the ground in front of him. He stared stupidly at her for a moment, then looked up in time to see an iron ball speeding toward his face.
“I told you the lady is defended!” Victor shouted as his flail smashed into Jolin’s face and sent him reeling.
That beautiful, ridiculous flail. Victor found it rusting away in a field near their village when he and Marshal were only six or seven years old. Since then, he had practiced with it daily, resulting in many bruises over the years. As ineffective as it had been against the curse-stalker two days ago, it was devastating against Jolin. He crumpled to the ground and lay still.
“You asked for this!” Marcus cried, and he let go of the rope.
Marshal fought to control his body. His limbs thrashed around and every part of him seemed to be vibrating at once. From his limited viewpoint, he saw the curse-stalker leap toward him. To his utter astonishment, Marshal saw Aelia dive over him in front of the leaping creature. Somehow, she had snatched up the fallen dagger, and she slashed at the curse-stalker’s face. The blade cut a small furrow across its snout, enough to redirect it while Aelia scrambled to her feet.
Marshal tried to roll away, but couldn’t get enough momentum to flip his own body. Victor rushed past him, swinging the flail. Having learned from his previous encounter, he didn’t aim at the beast’s head, but at one of its upturned knees. He grunted at the satisfying crunch, followed by a cry of pain from the curse-stalker. It staggered to the side, its shattered leg dragging uselessly.
Aelia took one deliberate step forward and stabbed the creature through the eye. It reared back, fell on its broken leg, and began to crawl away, squealing like a wild hog.
Marshal’s shaking began to slow. He rolled onto his side as Aelia sat down hard beside him. She stared at the thrashing curse-stalker.
“Over twenty years since the last time I saw one of these things,” she said, “And now I’ve killed two in the same week.”
“Ho!” Victor yelled. “Where do you think you’re going?” He charged into the brush.
Aelia helped Marshal sit up. His shaking subsided. They both watched the curse-stalker continue to squeal and thrash about. Neither felt strong or motivated enough to do anything about it.
Victor returned, pushing Marcus in front of him. The once-arrogant thug seemed cowed. He gazed in shock at the dying curse-stalker and then at Aelia, who rose to her feet in front of him.
“Kneel,” Victor ordered. “And beg the lady’s forgiveness.”
Marcus dropped to his knees immediately. “I’m so sorry, milady,” he pleaded. “We was f
ools, no question about it.”
“That’s one way of looking at it,” Aelia answered. “Take your friend and get out of here. He’ll need help if he’s to live beyond tomorrow.”
Marcus scrambled to Jolin’s side and shook him awake. He promptly began to scream and curse, putting both hands to his face. Marcus made feeble attempts to silence him.
Aelia flinched. She checked on Marshal to make sure he was all right, then moved to her pack. She found her bag of healing supplies and removed a small vial. She handed it to Marcus.
“Take this,” she said. “Put some pressure on his face until the bleeding stops. Then coat it with this. It should stave off infection until you get him somewhere to be properly treated.”
Marcus looked at her with wide eyes. “He don’t– we don’t deserve this,” he said.
“No, you don’t. Now get him out of here before I change my mind and let Victor bounce his flail off both your heads a few more times.”
Marcus hastened to obey. The two thugs left the ring of firelight and soon disappeared into the darkness. Their former pet went silent, but continued to thrash sporadically.
Aelia sat next to Marshal. Victor crouched nearby, but kept an eye on the spot where the thugs had left.
Marshal looked at his mother. His own shaking had passed, leaving him exhausted and sore. But Aelia seemed to be shaking herself. She looked down at the dagger in her hand and held it up to see better in the firelight. The curse-stalker’s blood still dripped from it.
“This is a good blade. Well forged, very sharp.” She looked at Marshal. “Did Volraag give it to you?”
Nod is yes. Then he wrinkled his eyes. Was that right? It wasn’t a gift, necessarily.
“I see.”
“Why would he do that?” Victor asked. “I thought you said he wanted Marshal dead.”
Aelia’s weary look made Victor stumble back a little. “What? I don’t get it.”
Aelia took a cloth from her pack and wiped the blade clean. She handed it back to Marshal hilt first. “If the Lord’s son wants my son dead, Victor, what is the best way for him to accomplish that task?”
Victor gestured loosely. “Send someone like those guys after us, I guess. Someone who’s not worried about getting cursed?”
Aelia looked into Marshal’s eyes, but continued to speak to Victor. “And if no such person can be found readily enough?”
“I don’t…” Victor looked at Marshal and the dagger and his eyes widened with understanding. “Marshal, you wouldn’t!”
“Whatever he said to you, my treasure,” Aelia said, continuing to gaze into Marshal’s eyes, “he did not say it for your good, but for his. Killing oneself brings no curse in this world, but who can say what Theon will do in the next?”
She stood and dusted off her skirts. “We must fight on, until all curses are lifted,” she whispered.
CHAPTER TEN
WHEN MARSHAL WOKE up, he saw Victor sitting by the fire, idly stirring the coals with a stick. His eyes stared without seeing, and Marshal wondered if he had slept at all.
Victor spoke without looking at him. “I’ve been waiting to see what my curse will be.”
Marshal raised his eyebrows.
Victor gestured with the stick. “I almost killed a man,” he explained. “I smashed in his face. It’s not the same as actually killing him, but I expect the Laws don’t much care.”
Marshal got up and began the morning preparations. He hoped Victor wouldn’t be cursed for his actions. After all, he had tried to save people. To be cursed for that wouldn’t be fair, would it? Then again, to be cursed for a crime your father committed against your mother wasn’t fair, either. Fairness did not seem to have weighed heavily on the creators of the Laws of Bindings and Cursings.
Aelia sat up and stretched. “You won’t be cursed, Victor,” she said. “You did nothing wrong. In fact, quite the opposite.”
She pulled her knees up to her chin and looked at him. “Because what you did was done to protect me from great harm, I am now bound to you.”
Victor blinked and his mouth fell open.
“It’s not as strong as the Binding between the two of you,” Aelia said, “but I can feel it nonetheless.”
Marshal grinned. They were now all bound together. He found it amusing and yet somewhat sad.
Victor got to his feet. “And of course, I didn’t save Marshal again, so that Binding is still firmly in place.”
“I suspect you’ll have more opportunities,” Aelia said. “Much that I wish it were not so…”
She suspected more danger. Marshal didn’t know how to react to that. Volraag would be sending someone after them, probably nastier than those men last night. But what other dangers could there be?
He went to relieve himself, but was close enough to overhear Victor ask Aelia about the dagger again. Marshal strained to hear her answer.
“I could take it away from him, but what good would that do? If he truly wanted to kill himself, he’d find a way. A dagger is a useful tool as well as a weapon.”
A long pause passed by and then Victor said, “Was… was that normal what happened to him? When he fell on the ground and was shaking so hard?”
“Marshal’s curse strikes him in different ways at different times.”
Volraag had told him the shaking had nothing to do with the curse. If so, maybe… maybe he could control it.
Marshal returned and joined them in packing their meager gear. When they finally set off down the road for the day, he dreamed of an end to his shaking.
•••••
He waited until the next day to put action to his thoughts. The three of them had stopped for a mid-day meal and rest. Aelia kept insisting they would reach another village any time now, but Victor remained skeptical. Neither of the boys had ever traveled this far before.
Aelia dozed off after the meal. Marshal knew she was having trouble sleeping at night, just as he also knew she would never admit it. He wondered what troubled her rest so much. Despite their current difficulties, he slept like a log every night. Walking all day left him exhausted and ready for sleep, regardless of any confusing thoughts.
Victor wandered off, muttering to himself and practicing with his flail. With no one paying any attention to him, Marshal slipped away and found a solitary spot several yards into the woods.
He sat with his back against a large oak and pulled off his gloves. The air already seemed warmer than yesterday, but still cold enough that he felt it right away.
Volraag claimed a magical origin for the shaking he experienced, his inheritance from Lord Varion. If so, Marshal reasoned, he should be able to access it when he wanted, perhaps even control it.
He focused on his hands. The bandages were long gone and the skin was healing. Both hands pulsed with the usual needle-like feeling. That was normal. But sometimes the buzz from the needles led to the shaking.
Nothing happened. Marshal took a deep breath, let his left hand drop into his lap, and focused on his right hand. He had no idea what to do, except to think about his hand and the shaking.
Still nothing happened. Marshal stared harder at his hand. He focused his concentration on the outstretched tips of his fingers and worked his way down them into the palm, willing each of them to start shaking. He imagined the needle-buzz pushing its way out of his skin, releasing energy as it did so.
His middle finger twitched. Then a second finger. A third. Soon they all vibrated, and he could feel it spreading down his palm, into his wrist.
But if he had caused this, then he should be able to stop it. He had no desire to experience a full body shaking like the day before. He gritted his teeth and willed the shaking to stop at his wrist and go no further up his arm.
To his surprise and delight, it worked. Only his hand continued to shake, though the tingling had already spread to his shoulder. He held his hand up in front of his face and watched all five of his digits continue to vibrate.
Marshal breathed the cold a
ir in through his nose and let it out through his mouth. He lowered his right hand off to the side and lifted his left hand in front of his face. Once again, nothing happened at first. He concentrated as hard as he dared, while still trying to keep part of his focus on his right hand. He had to use the trick of running his concentration down his fingers to his palm twice before it worked. His left hand began to shake.
He felt a surge of glee. He could control it! He held up both hands and stared at them. They both vibrated hard. He could feel his bones and muscles beginning to ache. This was going on too long. He knew that after a significant shaking, like the one during the fight, his entire body could be sore for many hours. Time to put an end to this.
He hesitated. His hands vibrated differently from one another. Why hadn’t he noticed that before? He drew them closer together for comparison. The difference grew more obvious, though still somewhat hard to discern. The more he perceived it, the less he could grasp its meaning. At first, he thought one vibrated faster than the other. But no. They were just… different. His right hand twitched in ways his left hand didn’t. And he had trouble straightening out the fingers of his left hand, whereas his right moved with ease. Why so different?
On impulse, Marshal brought his hands together with a sudden clap, to see if they would vibrate together.
He wasn’t entirely sure what happened next. In his next moment of consciousness, a blurry Victor grabbed his coat and shook him. “Are you all right? Marshal? Mars?”
His consciousness returned gradually, along with a sharp pain in the back of his head and a terrible ache in both hands.
Victor looked away and called, “He’s waking up! I think he’s all right.”
Marshal shook his head and his vision cleared. He still sat with his back to the oak. Victor stood over him. Behind Victor, he saw Aelia approaching with measured steps, looking around her in amazement.
Marshal stared. Everything had changed. The ground in front of him had been torn apart. Dirt and scrub brush and even some large tree roots had been shredded. The destruction formed a half-circle radiating outward from Marshal about three feet, then narrowed into a path that extended straight out for another ten feet or more.
Until All Curses Are Lifted Page 6
