How to Break an Evil Curse

by Laura Morrison

  It was thus that Warren and Julianna found themselves in the back of the thug’s wagon on their way out of the city, hiding under a stack of empty burlap bags.

  * * *

  27Conroy’s ancestors had long ago squashed formal religion (as far as his spies knew anyway) since totalitarian regimes are pretty adamant that their people only worship the kings and queens. Thus there was no understanding of Hell in a religious sense. ‘Hell’ in Fritillary was merely the name of a seedy pub founded by a fellow named Augustus Hell; it was in a very bad neighborhood and had been frequently broken into before the owners had begun to keep a trio of ferocious hounds on site to guard the place after closing time.

  Chapter Thirty

  The magical vial of raven blood had thought things couldn’t get any worse when it had found itself all alone in a dark, dusty corner of the castle laundry room. But that was before it had been swept up, along with some lint and bits of thread, and tossed into a bin; thankfully, since it was the laundry room, the bin had been full of old clothes and linens. If the magical vial of raven blood had been in a dark, dusty corner of the blacksmith shop, for instance, it’d have been shattered for sure. But that was small comfort to the poor vial of blood as it was wheeled off by a brusque maid who was quietly complaining to a companion about how she hadn’t been given the time off she’d requested to care for a sick grandchild.

  The magical vial of raven blood did have some pity for the poor, sick grandchild and the overworked grandmother, but it was too preoccupied with its miserable circumstances to care very much. After all, it was off to the dump, for goodness sake! The dump! Of all places for a quality magical ingredient such as itself to end up! It contemplated breaking its way into the maid’s mind in an attempt to see if she might be able to get it out of this predicament.

  But this maid was not the best candidate; she had to work late, and then go take care of her grandchild, so she’d have no time to help the vial of blood. It took a gamble, and decided to bide its time, in hopes of finding a more helpful candidate.

  A few minutes later, the bin was being wheeled outside, and dumped into the back of a waiting wagon. “Here’s all the stuff from the laundry!” the maid announced. “You headed out now?”

  “No,” answered the driver of the trash wagon. “I’m waiting on the maintenance guy.”

  The wagon driver and the maid joked around for a bit about the lazy maintenance guy who was always running late, then the maid said, “See you later, Tony!” and wheeled the bin back into the castle.

  The magical vial of raven blood whiled away some time listening to the driver sing a song under his breath about how lame unrequited love was. But the driver had a horrible singing voice, and the subject matter was beyond cliché, and soon the magical vial of raven blood was daydreaming, its mind wandering through the magical mists to see what Warren was up to.

  It was hard to hear anything from within the vial in Warren’s pocket since it was a bit muffled, but it sounded as though Warren was on a wagon, too. And, the Princess was with him, talking to someone the vial of blood was fairly sure it had never heard before. It did not hear Corrine’s voice, and this was odd since Corrine always seemed to be inflicting her opinions on people. Had something happened to her? The magical vial of raven blood tried to get Warren’s attention. Bro, it squawked into Warren’s head.

  No answer.

  Hey, Warren! The vial of blood tried again.

  It figured Warren must be sleeping. The magical vial of raven blood tried to hear what Julianna was saying to the mystery man, but no luck. Okay, not much was going on with Warren then. It shifted its consciousness briefly to the basin of blood in Farland’s evil lair, but no one was home. So, it went back to where the action apparently was: the wagon full of trash.

  The wagon driver was now talking to someone who was presumably the maintenance man. “Dude, try to stick to the schedule next time! I want to get to the dump by midnight.”

  “Take a chill pill, Tony,” the guy answered. “There’s more to life than work, man.”

  “I think that logic only applies when you’re not at work, Luther,” Tony countered.

  Luther grumbled something.

  “What was that?” Tony asked.

  “You need to learn to have a little fun,” Luther responded.

  “Oh, I do, do I?” Tony asked. “I know what kind of fun you’re talking about. The kind of fun where you plot against the very people who are paying your salary and putting a roof over your head.”

  “Shut up, man!” Luther hissed nervously. “You want to get me banished to the Forest?”

  “Not particularly, but then I might end up with a more punctual coworker. That’d be pretty nice.”

  The magical vial of raven blood listened intently. This Luther character sounded pretty interesting. More interesting than Tony, anyway. Tony’s implication that Luther was plotting against the King might very well mean that Luther had some ties to Farland. And the raven blood could use that to his advantage when trying to convince Luther to help. But how to get Luther to pick him up? It couldn’t just pop into Luther’s head and tell him to go rifling through the old laundry.

  Instead, it broke into Luther’s mind long enough to say, Hey Luther! Watch this! I’m going to scare the daylights out of Tony!

  Luther gave a sort of yelp but didn’t say anything. Silent panic was a fairly normal response, in the magical vial of raven blood’s experience.

  Then the magical vial of raven blood went out of Luther’s head and into Tony’s. TONY! It squawked as scarily as it could, all low and crackly and ominous. Poor Tony. But the vial of blood needed to get Tony out of the picture long enough to talk to Luther in private.

  Tony gave an alarmed yell. “What the heck!” Tony was apparently not the silent panic type.

  TONY! It croaked again. It couldn’t think of anything to add for a moment, so there was an awkward pause, but then it finally came up with, Beware the, um—beware the drive to the dump! Yeah. I am the voice of the future! And I say unto you, if you drive this wagon to the dump right now, you will be attacked by a hoard of thugs!

  “What—what—Luther, what are you doing? How are you doing that?” a frantic Tony cried. A sudden creaking of the wagon indicated that Tony might be on his feet, hopping about.

  Luther’s not doing anything, man. Look at him. He’s just as confused as you are, the magical vial of raven blood pointed out, making the safe assumption that Luther was probably gaping up at Tony in consternation.

  “But if Luther’s not—I mean—what—?” Tony spluttered.

  Don’t worry. You’re not going crazy or anything, man. Just don’t drive to the dump right now, because if you do it’ll totally be the death of you. For real. Go into the break room and lay down for about fifteen minutes. That should do it. By then, the thugs will have moved on.

  Tony spluttered a bit more but didn’t say anything. Probably he was realizing just how crazy he must look to Luther.

  Seriously, man, go lay down or something, the magical vial of raven blood nagged.

  Tony finally said shakily, “I’m going to go to the break room. Um, I’m not feeling well.” There was a big creak and a thud. He’d jumped off the wagon.

  “You okay, Tony?” asked Luther.

  “Headache,” Tony responded distractedly. “I’ve got a headache.” He shuffled off, and moments later the raven blood heard a door open and then slam shut.

  It let go of Tony’s mind and swooped back into Luther’s. This was getting exhausting. Hi Luther, it squawked.

  “What is going on?” Luther hissed.

  I just popped into Tony’s head to scare him away from the wagon for a few minutes. I need your help.

  “Am I losing my mind?” Luther mumbled.

  Nope. I would have thought seeing Tony go all crazy and start talking to a voice in his head wou
ld have shown you that you’re not the only one hearing things. This was always the toughest part of getting into a person’s mind for the first time. There was no way of knowing how long it would take the subject to figure out they weren’t crazy. The key was speaking calmly and presenting a logical argument.

  “Um. True, but still—I mean, this is still really weird,” Luther whispered.

  Sorry I had to pop into your brain like this. Look, if you need further proof I’m real and not in your imagination, just dig through the trash from the laundry room. If you search around, you’ll find a vial of blood. That’s way too random to be anything your brain would have come up with out on its own, right?

  “I guess…”

  Okay, well then dig around! Carefully. But be quick. I need you to find it before Tony comes back.

  The magical vial of raven blood heard some rustling. As Luther rummaged, he said, “Look, voice, I don’t like this. At all. You’ve got no right—”

  Suddenly, the towel the vial of blood was nestled in was tugged out of the wagon, and the vial flew out of the towel’s folds and landed on a pillowcase. Careful! the magical vial of raven blood cawed.

  Luther looked down at the vial. “Oh!” He picked it up gingerly. “Well, that’s a relief. I’m not crazy.”

  See, I told you, said the magical vial of raven blood. I’m the vial, by way, in case you’re still confused. I’m a magical ingredient. Raven blood that has been enchanted.

  “Okay…” Big pause. “Why are you talking to me?”

  I was hoping to find a person who could take me out of the castle. And I got the impression from overhearing your conversation with Tony that you’re plotting to overthrow the King. Right?

  “If I was, would I admit it to a disembodied voice?”

  Okay, okay. Well, listen. I can help you if you want to overthrow the King. Farland Phelps created me. I know things. Its hope was that if it dropped Farland’s name, Luther would think the vial of blood was on his side.

  “The wizard?” asked Luther with shock. “The evil wizard?”

  Yeah… the magical vial of raven blood answered. It didn’t like Luther’s tone.

  “Well, if you’re in cahoots with that guy, I’m gonna chuck you back in the trash,” Luther responded.

  What? But I thought—you’re part of the group that wants to overthrow—It was the magical vial of raven blood’s turn to stutter incoherently.

  “My friends and I have nothing to do with that guy! He’s bad!” Luther said. “It’s not as though there’s just one group of people who want to overthrow the King, vial of blood.”

  That was a good point. Why had the vial of blood been so silly as to assume anyone who wanted Conroy off the throne must be in cahoots with Farland? Conroy was a bad enough ruler to have made just about every possible group of people in the kingdom mad at him. So, Luther was part of some other revolutionary group. One that didn’t like Farland. Interesting. Were there good revolutionaries too, then? Please don’t throw me away. Please! I promise I’m not evil. Yes, I admit Farland made me. But that doesn’t mean I agree with what he does. And even if I was evil, I can’t do anything to you. All I can do on my own is talk. I can’t do anything bad unless a wizard uses me in a bad potion!

  Luther scoffed. “Whatever. You would say that.” Then he tossed the magical vial of raven blood back in the wagon.

  Wait! it squawked. Wait! Do you have a wizard among your number?

  A pause. “And if we do?”

  If you do have a wizard, then give me to him! He’d know I’m not a threat! I could even help you! Please, please, please give me a chance.

  There was silence. But the magical vial of raven blood was pretty sure Luther hadn’t walked away.

  Aw, come on! Give me a chance! I’m a really rare ingredient. Very hard to make. Your wizard would be so happy to get his hands on me!

  There was a sigh, then the vial of blood was picked up once more. “Just don’t talk to me anymore, you creepy thing,” Luther said.

  No problem, bro, the magical vial of raven blood agreed happily.

  “Seriously. One more word and I smash you against the nearest wall. I don’t care how great a magic ingredient you are.”

  The magical vial of raven blood kept its peace and hoped that the wizard it was being taken to wasn’t a loser.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  About ten minutes outside of the city’s walls (which were both a lot less impressive and a lot less protective than the castle walls), the thug said, “Okay, I think you guys are probably safe to come out of there now.”

  Warren had fallen asleep, but Julianna popped out, and joined the thug on the wagon’s bench. “Thanks again for helping us out.”

  “Thanks again to you for all the money,” he responded.

  They lapsed into silence but for the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves. Julianna looked around at what the light of the moons and stars allowed her to see of the outlying area of the city. Houses were more spread out, and some had gardens, but the houses themselves were even more ramshackle than the ones in the city. Suburbia in Fritillary was not where the rich folks moved to get away from the bustle of the city; it was where the poor folks lived because they didn’t have enough money to pay for pricey city living. Another strike against living in the Fritillary suburbs, or suburbs of cities in general, was, of course, that unfriendly armies on the way to attack castles reached the outlying areas first, so the country and suburbs were the first to be pillaged.

  “So, what’s your name?” Julianna asked by way of a conversation starter.

  He gave her a distrustful glance.

  “Aww come on. You know my name already. It’s only fair,” she wheedled.

  He gave a sigh. “Copernicus.”

  She didn’t push for a last name. Instead she asked, “But your friends call you Copper?”

  “You guessed it,” he said, staring straight ahead at the road over the heads of his two black horses. He was deep in thought, imagining the new life that was unfolding before him. He wasn’t in the mood to chat, but he couldn’t very well ask the Princess to shut up.

  After a long pause, she asked, “May I call you Copper?”

  “No,” he said distractedly, and then looked at her. “Am I allowed to say no? And also, should I be calling you Your Highness or something like that?”

  “Just call me Jennifer. It’s easier that way.” More silence. “We’re going to the Forest of Looming Death, by the way. You surely have a better idea of the geography, so you’ll know better than I when would be a sensible time for us to part ways.”

  “What on earth are you going to the Forest of Looming Death for?” he asked; her words had finally gained his full attention.

  “We need to rescue someone.”

  “You’ve got armies to do that for you, right?”

  “The person we want to rescue is a commoner, and my dad doesn’t want to send soldiers for her; he’d prefer they keep practicing their drills for the upcoming parade,” she grumbled.

  “But the guards at the Forest will be able to help you, yes?” Copernicus asked.

  “Not a chance. They can’t know we’re there. Since Warren and I snuck out of the castle, my parents will be sending word all over the countryside to all their soldiers and guards and whatnot.”

  “Hmm.” Copernicus lapsed into silence, weighing whether he wanted to get involved in this or not. He’d been looking forward to getting started on his life of peace and leisure and writing true crime novels, but he kept thinking of his brother and cousins who lived in the Forest; they might be able to help these two out.

  After a while, there was a rustling from the back of the wagon that indicated Warren was waking up. Sure enough, a moment later, he popped his head out of the burlap sacks and said, “Where are we?”

  “A bit outside the city walls. Soon we’
ll be in the countryside,” Copernicus said.

  “Cool.”

  Copernicus glanced at his passengers, and said to Warren in a fake casual voice, “So, hey, Jennifer tells me you two are going to the Forest of Looming Death.” He felt much more comfortable talking to Warren than Julianna since Warren was, to the best of Copernicus’s knowledge, an Average Joe like him.

  “Yes, indeed.”

  “You know the Forest is jam packed with criminals?”

  “Yep.”

  “You have any friends in there to help you?” Most citizens of Fritillary had at least one friend, relative, coworker, or neighbor who had been banished to The Forest.

  “Nope.”

  “Okay. And also, the place is surrounded by a bunch of guards who you’re hoping to avoid.”

  “We know.”

  “So…why are you even bothering with trying to rescue this person? You’re going to fail.”

  “She’s my sister. I have to try. Preferably succeed of course, but at the very least try.”

  Copernicus sighed again. He really, really didn’t want to get involved. But they really, really needed help. They were downright pathetic. “Jennifer,” he asked, “May I ask how you got mixed up in this, considering who you really are?”

  “Well, Copernicus,” Julianna answered, “I feel I owe Warren some help due to some past issues that I won’t get into. And also,” she said, staring off into the distance and getting all philosophical, “Recently, I’ve been gaining an understanding that the life I’ve lived thus far has been quite an empty life, see. Lately it has been occurring to me that what I really need in order to feel like my life has any meaning at all it to be of some use to someone.”

  “But what if you die?” Copernicus asked. “Because, from where I’m sitting, it sure looks like you’re going to die.”

  “Well, that would be no good. Can’t say it’d make me happy. But taking a risk in order to finally be doing something, now that is something I can say does make me happy. And besides, people die all the time. If I wasn’t doing this, I might very well choke on my breakfast sausage tomorrow morning or crack my head on the edge of my bathtub, or something.”