The Cursed Key

by Miranda Brock

  Leaning my back against the rough bark of an oak tree, I swallowed. My hands were cold and clammy as I clenched them. Every muscle inside me was taut as I fought with myself not to turn around and return to the relic.

  It was bad news. The key had already caused me problems, and I’d only had it for several days. I couldn’t imagine what it would have done if I had kept it.

  Well, no, I could imagine. Pain, death, destruction...and at my hands. Burying it was the right thing to do.

  Wasn’t it?

  Surely no one else would find it.

  Thinking on it some more, I wasn’t so sure. Finding it in ancient ruins had been extremely difficult, but finding it two feet underground in a public park? Wouldn’t that be a piece of cake by comparison?

  Maybe burying it hadn’t been the best course of action. Perhaps I should have worked harder to find out more about it. Doing so would have led me to a better solution.

  I looked back toward the way that would lead me to the key. It was dangerous, maybe even evil, but I couldn’t just leave it there. I had to dig it back up and keep it safe. Besides, I had this nagging feeling that I was meant to be in possession of the key.

  Groaning, I pushed away from the tree. “This is crazy. You’re crazy.”

  As I made my way back toward the key, I internally berated myself. What had I been thinking? I had given up entirely too easily. Where had my sense of adventure, my love for a difficult challenge, my thirst for knowledge gone to?

  They had been chased away by those horrid visions, I reminded myself.

  Maybe no one would find the key in the park. After all, I’d only found it in the ancient ruins because I knew that was where to find such things. No one would be digging around off the beaten trail of the path of some park.

  Yet, my feet still dragged me back to dig up the key.

  I stepped over a rotting log blanketed in moss. How long would the visions persist? Could the key actually make me do anything I didn’t want to do? Surely not.

  My steps faltered when I realized the key was getting what it wanted. I was returning to unearth it once more.

  I ground my teeth. No. This was my decision. If anything, I was only taking it back so I could keep others from getting their hands on it. As soon as I learned more about it, I would be able to get rid of it once and for all. Safely.

  As I neared the area where I had buried the key, shadows fell over me. I glanced up, confused to find the sky bright and blue, the morning sun glittering through the leaves. Where had the shadows come from?

  Ignoring the bumps prickling my skin, I continued. I was getting close now. Why was it so dark? And quiet? The usual chirping of birds had ceased. Not even the rustle of leaves met my ears. Energy buzzed inside me as my eyes landed on the area just ahead. Just to where the key was buried.

  And then, I froze.

  There, amid the patch of briars, was a figure.

  Someone was already digging up the key.

  Chapter 7

  The shadowy figure had come through the trees with all the subtlety of a hushed whisper. I had heard no crunching leaves, no disturbed branches. This person had seemingly arrived out of nowhere. No, not out of nowhere. The eyes that had been watching me. I now knew where they had come from. Hardly daring to breathe, I watched.

  The man knelt on the forest floor, and his pale hands dug at the ground, long fingers pulling away the freshly dug earth.

  As he piled dirt on top of the leaves, I was momentarily caught up in his strange appearance. A deep hood hid his face, and a dark cloak draped across his broad shoulders. Silvery runes patterned the hem of the cowl and around the wide cuffs of the long sleeves he wore.

  I squinted through the suddenly dim woods. The familiarity of the unusual shapes of the symbols tapped at my mind. Were they in the same language as the runes in the rainforest had been?

  The man shifted and leaned forward to peer down into the hole. Though I couldn’t exactly put my finger on what it was, I found something ancient and otherworldly about him. The shadows that had fallen over the woods grew closer, as if the man were drawing them in. His hand reached into the earth.

  The key. He was going to get the key.

  My stomach writhed at the thought, and there was no doubt in my mind that, whoever this man was, I couldn’t let him have it. Would I be able to sneak close enough to catch him off guard and grab the relic?

  Half-hidden behind the wide trunk of an oak, I slowly, carefully inched my fingers into my bag and wrapped them around the handle of my knife.

  When the stranger looked up, my pulse quickened, and my gaze faltered in the dark depths of his hood.

  Foreboding crashed over me like an icy wave, leaving me cold and breathless. The forest fell away as the earthy fumes of woodsmoke and metallic blood filled my nostrils. I could feel the hot lick of flames searing across my skin, and the sharp wind that tugged on my hair carried horrific and terrifying screams.

  A rumbling groan sounded from deep within the underbelly of the earth, and beneath me, the ground shook. I held my arms out for balance, knees bending to try to absorb the shock. I glanced over my shoulder and coughed on the noxious smoke I’d inadvertently sucked into my lungs.

  The forest had been burned to the ground, leaving nothing but ash and charred stumps. Smoke trailed upward to join the dark, roiling clouds tinted with red.

  And then, my surroundings changed.

  Across the cinder-powdered ground, the buildings were nothing but piles of splintered timber, broken bricks, and cracked glass. People staggered in the streets that were scattered with rubble. Some of them wailed with loss. Others screamed in pain as blood stained their clothing. Many were lying on the ground, pale and unmoving.

  Death and destruction. No matter where I looked, I found nothing but devastation and ruin. It was everywhere, but at the same time, it wasn’t enough.

  More. My heart raced with yearning and pleasure at the thought. There needed to be more. More fire. More blood. More screams.

  I took a step forward, and a twig snapped beneath my foot. Peering down, I lifted my boot. The leaves and sticks were still wet from the morning, not crisp and charred.

  Swallowing, I watched as the leaves flickered. Burnt and brittle, then back to untouched. Something wasn’t right.

  It took a great deal of effort for me to squeeze my eyes shut and shove the images and the need from my mind. It was difficult, as if the thirst for death tried to cling within me. I didn’t want that obliteration. I didn’t.

  I pulled in deep breaths through my flaring nostrils and slowly opened my eyes. I was back where I belonged. The forest was unburned, filled with reaching maple trees. The briars still tangled through the undergrowth. Beneath my feet, the trembling, moaning ground was still.

  I lowered my arms. My fingers were still clenched around my knife. Another vision, and this time, the key had not been within my grasp.

  How had it happened?

  The man rose slowly, smoothly. His long cloak flowed to the ground, though the fabric made no noise on the leaves. He wore a tunic that fell nearly to his feet, with a wide sash wrapping around his middle. More silvery runes were patterned along its length and contrasted sharply with the dark color of his clothing.

  Every muscle along my body tightened as he reached up and pulled down the deep hood, letting it spill onto his back. Awareness tried to flicker to life in my mind. Somehow, I knew this man.

  His eyes, violet in color and glowing unnervingly, glared at me under sharp, slanted eyebrows. Dark hair swept back from his smooth, pale brow, wings of silver at his temples. Several days of stubble peppered down his narrow face, past his hollow cheeks to his sharp chin.

  Unexplainable abhorrence billowed from deep within, as ancient and powerful as the man standing several feet beyond me. A tingling sensation shivered just beneath my skin, and energy came to my hand, licking across my skin and curling around my fingers.

  I was still with uncertainty. I didn’t unde
rstand the strange power buzzing through me. It was dangerous and formidable. The strangeness of it set me on edge, but I also didn’t try to smother it out. Letting it go would be a mistake.

  I clenched my teeth. I couldn’t let this unusual energy go, not with my enemy in front of me.

  Enemy?

  I couldn’t dwell on the intrusive thought for more than a couple of heartbeats. The man had finally broken his stare with me and was peering at the aged fabric in his hand. With deft fingers, he quickly unwrapped it, letting the cloth drift to the forest floor. His thin lips quirked at the corners, and his violet eyes gleamed bright with triumph.

  The key. Blood pounded faster in my ears. He had the key.

  My heart sped with panic as cold dread trickled between my shoulder blades. More than anything else, I knew I had to get the ancient relic back.

  Instinct clawed its way up inside of me and settled into my bones. Uncurling my fingers, the knife fell from my hand. Energy rippled through me, and I moved without thought. I pulled my arm back and whipped my hand forward like an all-star pitcher. A writhing sphere of luminous energy rolled from my fingertips and cut through the air in a blur.

  The man tilted, rocking easily back onto the heels of his boots. His mouth turned down in a grimace, but it seemed more of disappointment than worry. In a burst of light, the energy I had hurled smashed into a tree behind him, bits of bark falling away and leaving the trunk charred black. Above, the leaves shivered from impact.

  I blinked. How had I done that? I didn’t have the key. Did that mean the magic had purely been…me?

  But if that was true, did that mean the desire to see death and destruction was me, too?

  Laughter reached me, and the familiarity of it raised bumps on my skin. The man’s eyes swept from the damaged tree and back to me. Then, he started speaking.

  The syllables rolled from his tongue. It was not a language I should have known, but incredibly, I understood every word.

  “You seem to have lost your touch,” he said. Even his voice was ancient, the words echoing up through his chest. They fell on my ears strangely, as if he were speaking in some large, empty cathedral.

  My eyebrows lowered. “Who are you?”

  “And you have forgotten much, as well. Perhaps my circumstances were not so unfortunate.” He took a step toward me, and there was something strange about the movement. It took another step from him for me to realize, though brittle fall leaves were beneath his feet, his footfalls made no sound. No snapping twigs or crunching leaves. Merely silence. “You have dwindled to this weak being with a memory of nothing more than dust, while my memories and my knowledge remain intact. This is almost too easy.”

  What was he talking about?

  “Who are you?” I repeated.

  “Who are you?” The man was steadily moving closer. Why wasn’t I trying to get farther away from him? I couldn’t bring myself to move. “You do not know any longer, do you?”

  “Of course I know who I am. I’m—” I bit down on my tongue. What was I thinking? I couldn’t tell him my name. I shook my head. “Look, I don’t care who you are. Just give me back the key.”

  I put my hand out, as if I were expecting him to just lay it in my palm.

  The stranger held the key aloft, inspecting it as it slowly rotated on the fine chain. A wisp of shadows lessened above, allowing a slant of sunlight to slice through the canopy and fall on the golden relic.

  “Why would I do that?” the man murmured.

  My eyebrows pinched together. “Because it’s mine.”

  He had stopped and was no more than five feet from me now. A few swift steps, and I could be on him, snatching the key from his hands. How fast was he? Would he catch me if I ran?

  Those gleaming indigo eyes bored into mine. “I think not.”

  It was insane, and I didn’t quite understand why or how I was doing it, but that energy wrapped around my hand. I charged forward and barely made it two steps. Raising his arm, the man turned his palm toward me. Shadows twisted from his hand and punched me hard in the chest.

  Grunting, I stumbled back, losing the energy. I barely managed to catch myself on a nearby tree.

  The forest darkened around us. The man tucked the key into the folds of his clothing. His chin lifted as he smirked down at me. “You will not win this time.”

  With that, he left in a swirl of leaves and shadows.

  I hurried forward, head whipping back and forth. Pivoting, I searched the trees and squinted at the brush. He had to be nearby. People didn’t just disappear. Right?

  The sunlight quickly returned, along with the morning chatter of birds and the distant hum of traffic. There was no sign of the man. He truly had gone just as silently and suddenly as he had arrived.

  For a moment, I stood, rubbing my sore chest where he had hit me with that shadowy energy. What was I supposed to do now?

  The sense of being watched had vanished with the strange man, but I couldn’t find any relief in its absence. I wiped my sweaty palms on my thighs and pulled in a shaky breath.

  I walked back several feet and stooped to pick up my knife then shoved it roughly back into my bag. What had I been expecting to do with it anyway? Stab the guy? Yeah, right. I would have only done such a thing to protect myself. At least, I thought so…or used to think so.

  I wasn’t so sure what I thought anymore.

  I started to head off toward the trail and glanced back at the hole. The key had been taken. As much as I had initially wanted to be rid of the thing, I couldn’t help but feel that losing it was going to be far more disastrous.

  Chapter 8

  The man’s foreign words echoed in my mind as my boots hit the weathered trail. He’d said I wouldn’t win this time. What had he meant, not this time?

  I shoved the nagging question to the back of my mind as indecision rippled through me. I glanced toward home. I couldn’t go back now. My mind was reeling, and I was too amped up to return to the house. I started to the right and headed toward the small town on the other side of the forested park.

  I really needed some coffee.

  My gaze swept through the trees as I walked, keeping a lookout for that strange man. Who was he? I hadn’t told anyone about the key, so how did he know about the relic? Was it possible he had seen it before?

  Logic—something that had always been ingrained in me to trust—said that was impossible. But this new, fractured reality I was shakily walking across suggested otherwise. He hadn’t seemed real with his ancient and powerful aura, but I couldn’t deny what I had seen.

  The meandering trail was winding to an end. The small town was visible through the trees up ahead. I kicked a stick out of my way. I shouldn’t have let him take the relic. I should have tried harder to stop him. What was he going to do with it?

  Well, it didn’t matter now, anyway. The key was gone. I couldn’t change that.

  I shifted the strap of my bag into a more comfortable position. Pulling in a deep breath, I tried to look like I hadn’t spent the early part of my morning digging a hole in the woods for an ancient, and probably magical, relic followed by a confrontation with a man who seemed to be some sort of wizard from ages past.

  I’m just out to get coffee. Nothing unusual.

  Not quite sure why I was feeling paranoid, I found my way to the sidewalk that would lead me to the street lined with quaint shops and little restaurants then headed straight toward my favorite coffee shop, The Frazzled Bean Co.

  It held the same sort of charm many places did around here. A few small tables and chairs sat outside of the large windows, the only occupant an elderly man in a beige fedora reading a newspaper. The sign above the entrance creaked slightly in the soft morning breeze.

  When I pushed through the door, the bell rang over my head. There weren’t many customers, yet. I crossed the wooden floors to the wide counter, behind which stood the proprietor.

  Gina was a lovely woman. She had a beautiful mane of unruly red curls that she f
ought back into a ponytail to keep her hair out of her face while she was working. A woman in her late-forties, she had never married. She told anyone who asked that The Frazzled Bean Co. was her husband and it gave her enough trouble. You could see the love she poured into the place, from the warm brick walls to the mismatched chairs that managed to look charmingly quirky without appearing tacky. A massive collection of coffee cups hung in rows on a wall behind the counter, Gina’s crown jewel to her caffeinated empire.

  “Olivia!” Gina’s exuberant voice filled the room. Her smile was bright as I stepped up to the counter. “How are you?”

  “I’m doing all right.” That was the farthest I could stretch the truth.

  She nodded, and I was grateful she wasn’t one to pry. “The usual?”

  “Yes, please.”

  She busied herself concocting a perfect honey lavender latte. We kept up a casual conversation on the beautiful morning and what we were up to lately. Apparently, she had taken up crocheting on a whim, and I spoke of the dig.

  “Find anything good?” Gina asked as she slid my cup, full to the brim, toward me.

  I pulled some bills out of my pocket. “Nothing but dusty tombs and failure,” I answered with a smile. An uncomfortable sensation squeezed me at the thought of the key.

  “Oh well, maybe next time.”

  Giving Gina a tight smile, I paid for my latte as the bell over the door jingled and a pair of college-aged students came in. I headed toward my favorite spot, a faded red armchair near the front window. In the corner, I could sit and watch people walk by without any close seats for other customers to sit near me and intrude on my peace.

  I settled into the comfy chair and placed the cup on the table. I rolled my shoulders in an attempt to dispel the lingering sensation that persisted, even with the absence of the key. Would the feeling go away? What about that strange energy that had burst from me? Surely, without the relic nearby, that power would vanish.