Cursed

by Casey Odell

  “That can be arranged.” He looked her up and down with a thoughtful eye. “The ball is in two days and starts at sundown. Come to the palace beforehand. I’m sure we can rummage something up.”

  She smiled, her eyes alit with visions of grandeur. A royal ball, never in her wildest dreams did she think she’d ever attend one.

  The General reached in his coat and drew out a small square piece of parchment with a red seal of wax and handed it to Aeron. “Just show this to the guard at the gate. He’ll have instructions for you. Until then.” He bowed gracefully and made his leave, his stride confident as he made his way through the tables to the entrance. The guards followed him out the door, taking the tension in the room with them.

  Claire collapsed onto the seat next to her. She wondered if she might have answered too fast. Would they be able to keep up their act in such a situation? Well, the elves probably could. She looked up to Aeron for reassurance.

  “I’m sorry, I just got excited,” she said. “I’ve never been to a ball before.”

  Aeron sat down next to her. “It will be fine.” He put an arm around her shoulders. “Besides, it will help take your mind off of things. Right?” He looked up at Farron and waited for him to say something. They exchanged looks, their faces serious.

  “What?” Claire looked between the two, but they ignored her. “What is it? I’m getting really tired of all the secret keeping.”

  Aeron’s arm dropped from her shoulders. “You do not really think he would invite us just for the fun of it, do you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Farron sat down finally. “A man like him, I don’t trust him.”

  “And why do you say that?” Claire asked.

  “With a smile like that, you just know he’s hiding something.”

  “Like you?” The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them.

  Farron fixed her with a cold gaze.

  “At least he is polite about it,” she said with a slight smile.

  The elf shrugged. “We can’t turn him down, or it would seem that we are slighting the king. He wants something.”

  Aeron just nodded.

  Her stomach sank. The grand visions faded before her eyes. It did seem a little curious that a General would just to invite them to a ball like that, even if it was to make up for the skirmish. “So what should we do?” She looked across the table at Farron.

  “Keep up our little charade.” He shrugged his shoulders.

  “He is right, for once,” Aeron said, and Farron shot a glance at him. “You do not need to worry. I will teach you everything there is to know about being a lady.” He wriggled his eyebrows at her.

  “I think I’ll take a bath,” she declared, ignoring Aeron to the best of her ability. Grimy, sore, and tired, a warm bath seemed like the perfect cure. She rose from the table and grabbed her dagger. It didn’t seem like there would be any more trouble, for tonight anyway. She’d just make sure to lock her door and sleep with her blade beneath her pillow. Besides, it was the elves they had quarreled with. Not her. At least that was what she kept telling herself. “Which way?”

  Farron tossed a brass key up to her with a white ribbon tied to it. “Up the stairs to the right. There’s a bath at the end of the hall.”

  “Where is my key?” Aeron held out his hand. Farron dangled a single key from his finger. Aeron’s shoulders slumped. “Oh great, I get to share a room with grumpy.”

  “Have fun, boys.” Claire turned and made her way through the crowd to the narrow stairs against the wall just past the bar.

  The sounds of the music and people faded as she entered through a faded blue curtain at the top of the stairs. Two hallways broke off from the short main corridor, dimly lit by oil lamps along wood paneled walls. A dark blue rug lined the pine floorboards to further dampen the sounds.

  Room twelve was down the second hall, the number dangled on a tag attached to the brass key. A single bed filled the tiny room. A tiny bedside table, an oil lamp and a chest at the foot of the bed completed the minimal decor. She crossed to a little square window and opened the white doily curtain. A flat expanse of wall greeted her across a narrow back alley.

  “A room with a view,” she mumbled and closed the curtain.

  Claire laid her dagger on the bed and sat on the edge, the metal frame creaking under her weight. She collapsed back on the thin, lumpy mattress and the weight of the day crashed down on her. The disappointing results of her search crushed her spirit and hope. Somehow, she didn’t think that finding an entire town’s worth of people would be so hard. Something strange was going on. She couldn’t have been the only one to escape with her life.

  She covered her face with her hands as exhaustion swept over her. Her arm began to itch under the bandage , so she unwrapped the cloth to expose the intricate tattoo-like mark. A nice warm bath would help clear her mind. She got up and opened the chest at the foot of the bed. A stack of worn towels and a robe filled one side. She lifted a towel and smelled it. Clean at least.

  The robe was almost twice her size but would have to do. She bundled the robe and a towel in her arms and scurried down the hallway. The bathroom was small and outdated, but the water was warm and it was just what she needed.

  8

  The dim hallway was eerily quiet in the morning, the constant hum of the tavern below gone until the evening when the festivities would start all over again. The feeling was familiar: waking up to a quiet house, doing chores and preparing for the night to come in Mother’s tavern. Being in the inn filled her with a warm feeling of nostalgia, and a little bit of emptiness. Perhaps the elf chose this establishment for a reason. She smiled at the thought, but shook her head to chase it from her mind.

  With freshly cleaned clothes, she meandered down the hall, her waist free of the dagger. She decided against taking it. Didn’t want to scare people away, especially if she wanted to ask them questions. Although, it could be quite the persuasive tool-- even if she wasn’t quite so sure how to use it yet. She ran her fingers through her hair and mulled on the thought before dismissing it.

  Her joints were stiff. The lumpy bed proved to be not much better than the ground outside, but at least there were no bugs. That she knew of. In fact, she’d rather not know.

  She descended the rickety steps, each one seemed to groan under her weight. Sunlight exposed the lifeless tavern. Everything looked more worn and old in the bright light, the paint cracked and the dust piled in the nooks and crannies, all invisible in the warm glow of oil lamps and candles. Farron sat at one of the small wooden tables by himself, his back to the stairs, devoid of his weaponry. The only other people in the room were a few workers preparing for the onslaught of people in the evening. The distant cling of metal-ware and dishes being washed sounded in the distance.

  Claire approached Farron. He was hunched over, his elbows rested on the table to prop up his head.

  “Hangover?” she asked, causing him to stir.

  “No.” He rose to face her and leaned back against the table. His face showed signs of fatigue. “Aeron kept me up all night. Get a little alcohol in him and he really won’t shut up.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He said he had some errands to do.” Farron shrugged. “It’s my turn to babysit today.”

  “You don’t have to sound so excited.” She put her hands on her hips. “So, what’s the plan?”

  “You tell me. You’re the one asking the questions. It’s my job to just stand in the back and look menacing.” He glanced down at her exposed right arm but said nothing.

  “I don’t even know where to begin.”

  “Only one way to find out.” He grabbed her by the arm and led her through the door and out onto the street. He dug a coin out of his pocket; the silver glinted in the sunlight. “Alright, we’ll flip for it.”

  “Is this how you make your decisions?” She put her hands on her hips again.

  “Just the important ones.” He smirked and threw the
coin up in the air. He caught it, slammed it on top of his other hand and hid it with his palm. “Call it.”

  “I don’t even know what kind of coin you used. Who knows what kind of stuff you elves have on your money?”

  “A tree and a king’s head.”

  “Which king?”

  “Just pick one.”

  “Fine, tree we go left,” she said. He lifted his hand up. Tree. “I can’t believe you don’t know your kings.”

  “Do you?” He pocketed the coin and looked down at her, eyebrow cocked expectantly.

  “I don’t have a king.” She stuck her chin up and began walking down the street.

  She couldn’t believe Aeron had abandoned her. Now she was stuck with Farron for the whole day. She looked back at the elf trailing close behind. He was sure to attract unnecessary attention. All black clothing topped with platinum blonde hair. Maybe she could convince him to buy a scarf.

  “Well, don’t just be a creepy follower, come on.” She motioned for him to walk next to her. It was a great opportunity for bonding time. She almost laughed at the unlikely prospect. In any case, it would make her feel better not to have such an intimidating shadow.

  Few people wandered down the cobblestone street in the morning. Most of the businesses that lined it would open later in the evening.

  Farron strolled next to her and he eyed her right arm again. “No bandage, I see.”

  “It was itchy.” She continued walking, looking straight ahead.

  “We can search for something more suitable if you’d like.”

  Claire sighed. “Does it really matter? I mean, we don’t even know what this is.” She held her arm out in front of her. “What are the chances any of these people know? If anyone asks, I’ll just tell them it’s a tattoo or something. You know us crazy people from the north.”

  Farron crossed his arms. He seemed a little displeased.

  “You’re too paranoid,” she said, though after last night she could hardly blame him.

  “And you’re not careful enough.”

  Two blocks down and three streets over was another bustling marketplace. Filled to the brim with colorful stalls and people, but devoid of the answers and the truth she was seeking. What was going on? Someone in this town had to know something. How could an event so terrible not be big news? Not a single warning about rampaging centaurs had reached these people.

  She turned to Farron but he was a few stalls away from her, haggling with an old shop owner. With arms crossed, she waited as he meandered in her direction with a small brown bag in his hands.

  “You’re much help,” she mumbled.

  He picked out a little ball, fried to a nice crisp golden brown, popped it in his mouth and held the bag out to her.

  “What are they?” She peered into it.

  “Lewts, I think they’re called. I haven’t had them in years.”

  She looked up at him and waited for more explanation.

  “You know, the little fried balls of bread. They’re dipped in some sort of spices.” He waited for her to pick one out. “Just try one, they’re good.”

  Carefully, she picked a ball out of the bag with her fingers and popped it into her mouth. It was crunchy and salty, followed by a hot, spicy aftertaste. Her face twisted in disgust. A warning would have been nice.

  He chuckled at her reaction. “That bad, huh?”

  “You have surprisingly bad taste.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “More for me then.”

  It was the first time she’d seen the elf so relaxed. The usual tension faded away as the day went on. Perhaps being around Aeron really was stressful for him. It was for her at times, as well. Nobody could be that happy all the time.

  “I need a break.” The constant disappointment was tiring. She walked along the street and looked around at the different stalls and their wares.

  “Me too.”

  Claire spun around. “You need a break?” She could feel the annoyance rise in the pit of her stomach. “All you did was stand there!”

  “Oh, you think it’s easy to look tough and intimidating?” he said with a sly smile and a dash of arrogance.

  She crossed her arms and looked up at him, eyebrow cocked. For him it was, especially after seeing him last night. The way he handled those men, it was just a tad bit scary. But now, in the light of day, he wasn’t. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have to help.

  “Alright, let’s see you try then.” He motioned with his arms.

  “Fine.” Claire took a deep breath and straightened her back, her chin held high. She glared up at the elf, summoning her darkest thoughts, and hoped the threat would show in her eyes. Mother had mastered the look, sometimes making grown men cry, albeit mostly drunk men, but still grown men.

  The elf stared back at her with a blank expression, then popped another brown ball into his mouth. “I’m shaking in my boots.” He brushed past her and started to walk down the street.

  “Hey!” She stormed after him. He continued walking and ate another lewt. “Don’t just walk away!”

  “I’m afraid you don’t need my services anymore.”

  “I was scary, damn it!”

  He turned and looked her up and down. “You couldn’t be scary if your life depended on it.”

  “I can too! What are you trying to say here?” She stopped. Her hands were angry balls of fury at her sides. She may not have been able to stop the bear man, but she didn’t really get a chance to either. At least that’s what she kept repeating to herself. The man could have easily squished her between his meaty thumb and forefinger.

  A smirk washed over his face. “My lady, you are just too easy.”

  Her mouth dropped open. It was all a ruse. “You’re not funny.”

  “You get riled up so easily, I couldn’t help myself.” His expression faded into a more serious one. “You’re still not scary, though.”

  “Fine.” She shoved past him. “I’ll scare you someday, just you wait.”

  “I won’t hold my breath.” He caught up with her.

  “You could at least help me ask questions.”

  “I really don’t think anyone here would talk to me.”

  Claire glanced at the surrounding people. They shot glances at the tall elf, and they weren’t exactly friendly. She looked up at Farron, but he seemed unfazed. He was probably used to it by now. And at least none of them did anything. A look couldn’t kill, unless it was one of her mother’s…

  “I guess you’re right.” She took a deep breath and released it. No luck today either. “Why do you wear all black anyway?” she asked. Another color palette could do wonders for his complexion. And for the way people saw him.

  He looked down at her; the question seemed to catch him off guard. “To keep people away. Trust me, if you look like I do, you’re bound to attract attention, and most of it is unwelcome.”

  Wasn’t that the truth. “So, you want to look mean and intimidating?”

  “I prefer dark and mysterious.”

  Claire flushed. Had he heard her last night? With a shake of her head, she dismissed the ridiculous notion. Surely the elves’ hearing couldn’t be that good.

  She stopped at a stall with various objects made of pewter scattered across a worn red tablecloth. Claire picked up a miniature jewelry box with little intricate flowers molded along the top and sides. Farron picked up a mug and started to examine it while he talked with the short man behind the table. She put the box back and wandered around the corner where he had another table set up.

  A brooch caught her eye. It was in the shape of a snake and its eyes sparkled with rubies, just like her mother’s bracelet. She picked it up to examine it closer. How odd it was to find something so similar.

  “Psst.”

  Claire jumped at the sudden sound, and dropped the brooch on the table, her heart racing. A man stood in an alleyway behind the booth, his face cloaked in shadow under a grey hood. He took a step in her direction, maneuvering around a wooden cra
te to do so. Already she could feel Farron’s presence close behind her. That was quick. If their sham were actually true, he’d be well worth the money.

  “Are you the ones searching for survivors?” The man’s voice was hoarse and deep.

  “Depends on who’s asking.” Farron gripped her shoulder and pulled her slightly back from the mysterious man.

  “How ‘bout a survivor?” He dropped the hood to reveal a middle-aged face, tan from years in the sun and hard labor, his dark hair slowly being overtaken by gray. “Follow me.” He turned and hurried down the alley.

  “Wait!” Claire turned back to Farron. “What do you think?”

  “Best lead we’ve gotten all day. Might as well.” He started to walk down the alley.

  “What happened to not being careful enough?”

  “Only applies when you’re unarmed, of course.”

  “You’re armed?” Her eyes widened in surprise.

  He grinned before he turned.

  Where was he hiding weapons? She looked him up and down before following him down the narrow passage. They turned a corner into another alley with a dead end. There the man waited for them as he leaned against the wall in the shadows. Farron walked in front of her as they approached like the good bodyguard he was.

  “Do I know you?” she asked as she stepped out from behind the tall elf.

  “No, but I think we might have somethin’ in common.” He glanced down the alley. “You’re town was attacked, yeah?”

  Claire’s pulse quickened. “Yes, by centaurs.”

  The man nodded. “Seems like there have been attacks all across the region. Small towns and villages attacked out of the blue.”

  “And what about the survivors?” She rushed up to the man and grabbed his shirt. She looked up at him, her eyes raw and urgent, desperate for any type of information.

  “That’s the strange part.” The man peered down at her with a dark, wild expression. “It’s like the survivors just vanished into thin air. The night my village was attacked, I was separated from my wife and son. Been searching the surrounding towns and kept gettin’ the same answer. Like the whole thing never happened. I tried to go back to my village, but those beasts leave lookouts.” He gripped her wrists and tried to pry her hands from his shirt. “I’ve seen men, however, stationed outside the towns. They looked like some sort of patrol or small army.”