Cursed

by R D Blake

  She explored her face, unsure if all had been restored. It felt familiar and yet not the same. Her nose and ears were smaller and her cheeks and lips smooth to the touch. If she only had a mirror, but years ago she had banned anything that reflected the horrible image that she had become. A nervous new thought trembled through her. What would Nobody think of her?

  But an impish impulse followed next and seized her. He had been cruel in a fashion yesterday and she felt it only just to gain some revenge. Ilena covered herself including her face. As she made her entrance to the kitchen she tried to walk as if something terrible had happened and bent herself as if the power of the ring had failed. Nobody rose from the fireplace turning toward her. She saw him start, for he was fooled by her false despondency. Ilena stopped by the table and bent over herself farther as if she could not bear the pain of what she had discovered. Nobody rushed to her side. She could see that old hesitation in his movements. He wanted to hold her, but now he feared for what had happened. “Do not tell me the ring has failed! Do not!” he pleaded with her.

  Beneath her veil, Ilena nodded and pretended to choke on her words and replied as huskily as she could. “Worse! I am uglier than ever. Look at me!” It seemed as if he might refuse to, not wishing to harm her. “You must!” she implored. As he raised her veil, she lifted her face upwards to him.

  Afterwards, Ilena could never describe exactly what rose upon on his countenance: certainly fear, regret, and confusion. But wonder, anger, then comprehension, immediately were replaced by laughter and joy; they all rose and rose to greater expression. Nobody had fallen to his knees before her, grasping her about her waist. “I never — never did I — how — you are — Oh! No One have you yet seen? Is this truly you?” There was utter elation in his every word. Then he scowled. “How could you do this to me?” But then it seemed all forgotten, followed by even more words: all full of light, happiness, false scolding and feigned anger. Never had Ilena seen Nobody like this. He picked her up without her permission and raced out to the well. “You must see all of what you have become!”

  And when he had poured water into a basin and placed it in a fashion, so she could see her reflection Ilena almost gasped. It was her face, but it was not. Older, more full, and yet her features were not quite her own. “I am ugly,” she said, remaining yet in a jestful mood.

  “Yes, truly,” Nobody confessed. Impulsively, she pinched him for replying in the same light manner. “But I will bear it with you, my lady. All my days.”

  Ilena felt herself blushing at his words and saw the colour rise upon her cheeks in her reflection. She marvelled at that image and the bright smile it returned to her. This was Ilena, her true self, by a miracle brought back from the dead. She tore her eyes away from the basin and felt the wonder of Nobody’s own brown orbs staring at her. It was as if he was ensorcelled with no will or freedom to move his eyes off her. Oh! It was proving almost as difficult to bear his fixed gaze upon her as when her appearance had been as before. What was behind those smiling, unblinking eyes? Was it this miracle? The power of the ring? The magic behind it? Or was it, in truth, what he had confessed to her? Did he — could he really hold for her what she had believed, since this curse had found her, she could never have?

  Ilena accepted more of his embrace, pressing her head against his chest and hearing the reassuring beating of his heart, recalling in her mind what Nobody had told her. The Pure One had given warning that if she did not believe in Nobody’s love, then the ring would eventually fail. Faith was called for and now, after long years, Ilena found she was ready to trust again.

  ______Ω______

  Marta rose from her prayers, gathering her robes about her and went to do the few remaining tasks left before this day turned to night. Weeks ago, the bishop had led her to this tiny hovel hidden away at the end of a lone track into these northern forests. On their long travels to this secluded glade nestled into the foothills, her superior had assured Marta that this place was known by no one. Long years ago when he was still yet an acolyte of the church, he had ministered to an old man who had made this lonely clearing his home. And it had been still as a young man that the bishop had come here, finding the ancient recluse passed onto into God’s deeper kingdom. He had buried his body and only returned once or twice since that time to tend to his grave. None had travelled these paths other than himself. Of that, the bishop was certain.

  Beyond those few words, on their travels here they had said little to each other, finding themselves reticent to speak of other matters. Only as they ended their trek through the burgeoning forests of the mid-spring did the bishop disclose something of his inner conflicted ruminations: the high council had come to fear man more than God. And he could not consent to that.

  Yet it seemed to Marta that his judgement of their superiors was more a confession of his own lack of faith and that she, by her example, had strengthened him. Marta could not accept that. She was no one — both before man and God. In her own private recriminations, she thought the council not to blame in their decision. Evil could and should not be accepted in the church and they had judged her aright.

  Today though, as she went about preparing the last day’s meal for herself, Marta did not feel particularly hungry. Those odd twinges and cramps still assailed her at times. Truly, she did not understand what was happening to her. Perhaps God was finally passing His Own Judgement upon her — but whatever her physical ailment might be, Marta would accept it as she had the verdict of the council.

  However in the hour before morning dawned, Marta finally understood what beset her. She was a woman again. Fully. Going to her knees once again, for the first time in many years, Marta was unsure of how to pray.

  ______Ω______

  Another week passed. Each day full of a new found joy. Ilena sang and danced through them all and Erick played his lute. When his lips became too bruised to continue, he would join her in her cavorting, swinging her about him. And together they would race out to the fields with the animals and birds not far behind, capering and soaring about them in common celebration.

  It seemed to Ilena that the days of her childhood had returned and the pain and sorrow of the last few years fell away from her just as the curse did. And it proved so hard not to kiss Nobody. She knew he too fought against the temptation, but he insisted they abide by the words and dictates of the Pure One — only each evening after the sun had set and once only, could their lips meet. It was not enough. Ilena wished for much more. Still, they made that single kiss last as long as they could and laughed together when they broke apart, gasping for air.

  But one dark cloud remained left unsaid by her. Her left arm remained untouched by the power of the ring. Just below her shoulder her skin remained puckered, covered with warts and other blemishes, rough, scaly — just as all of her had been only weeks before. Finally, Ilena shared her fear with Nobody after three days had followed with seemingly no change.

  “There is one last thing that yet remains, No One. One last act on my part that you must accept. My lady, I thought perhaps it not necessary and that I would ask you later once the entire curse was lifted. But I see it cannot be put off — not if the ring is to put forth all its power.” Nobody gently pulled her into his arms. “I must place the ring upon your left hand.”

  Ilena understood his meaning. She shifted slightly away from him. “You would do this for me?”

  That maddening smile appeared on his face once again. There had been so many of those over the last weeks. “Believe me, No One, it is no sacrifice. I wish it with all my heart.” Ilena buried her face in his shoulder unable to answer. “But you are still a young maid. It should not be this way that you be forced to accept such an offer with seemingly little choice in the matter.”

  Ilena moved so that she could peer up into his eyes. “But I do not even know your true name, Nobody. You are still as much a stranger to me as that day I was led to you by the river.” Her words, Ilena saw, caused an inner struggle to rise in him an
d an old fear appeared upon his face. Yet in the end, Ilena saw resolution form much as the narrow vertical line between his eyes.

  “Erick. I am called Erick.” His countenance revealed that he believed his name would mean something to her, but all it was to Ilena was a name like any other.

  “And what is an Erick?” she asked, both seriously and in a light jest, for what he was proposing to her about the ring was no small matter. “What were you before you came here? And were you given no last name?” Her questions caused a tremor to run through him into her own arms. Almost she withdrew her words.

  “A — a noble, as you surmised long months ago: one who did not wish to bear any such appellation. And my last name?” Nobody paused for such a long time that Ilena thought he would refuse to answer. “I am of the house of Olling,” he replied in a near whisper, acting as if his spoken words might alert the entire world to his existence.

  His eyes searched hers so intensely after that admission. There was a terrible tension in his arms holding her about her waist. It seemed his entire body sighed when she blankly returned his stare. Erick Olling. It had the sound of a noble name, but what did she know of such matters or such people?

  Yet, his answer was an incomplete answer. Ilena knew Nobody had spoken the truth but only as much as he was willing to admit to. She merely nodded and thought more, looking down at the ring on her unblemished hand and then at her other. She took Nobody’s hand in her own. “And what if nothing more changes or if the power of this ring fails in the end?”

  “Still I would desire only you. Only you.” And Ilena knew he believed his profession with all his heart and his words moved her own.

  “Then, yes, I accept, but only if the curse is lifted in full.” She expected Nobody to embrace her, but now it was he who pulled back from her.

  “And what of you, my lady, my No One. What is your true name?” And now Ilena understood that there remained some small part of the game to play between them. Truly, it had been so long since she had thought of herself by the name her parents had given her: one last thing she had withheld and kept as her own secret. And now she knew he wished that nothing be left between them.

  “My name is Ilena — Erick.”

  ______Ω______

  Chapter Sixteen

  The raven had finally reached the outskirts of this hidden vale and he liked it not. It had taken long weeks to fly here, for he had been searching far in the southern reaches of the continent when his mistress had sent him winging back to these northern climes.

  There was power here. A power in opposition to whom he served and it was a danger to him. The raven could also sense the might of the curse nearby: waning, reduced but still fighting. Yet it was losing. Still, he had been commanded by his mistress to discover what power it was. She was a fool. The raven clamped down on such dangerous, unworthy judgements. He would suffer much if she detected such rebellion. But what choice did he have in all of this? Reluctantly, the bird took to the air and flew toward where the two powers fought.

  ______Ω______

  Ilena watched as Nobody — no, it was Erick, tugged the ring gently from her finger. Why could he do it when no matter how she had tried at times, it was immovable under her own efforts? With a single glance and a smile, he drew it gently over her marriage finger. As it moved over the knuckle to where it should properly rest, the ring flared in light and blinded them both.

  ______Ω______

  The raven had no warning when it found itself attacked from above and behind. Strong talons gripped painfully into his body and sharp beaks gashed upwards into his unprotected lower regions. It seemed like hundreds of others bit and pecked at his eyes and his face. Under their onslaught, he was driven down toward the ground. The raven drew upon all the black power it possessed; but it was consumed effortlessly, leaving him helpless. Meeting the hard ground, his wings and body broke, and with the dissolution of the last vestiges of the magic that had lived within him for many decades, he felt every stab, every gash, every blow until there was nothing left of him.

  ______Ω______

  The witch keened in pain as she sensed her black minion being destroyed. She felt herself being lessened all the more and the wards that held her fastness in the marshland and protected it, weakened and she now knew it was only a matter of time until she too would need to flee.

  ______Ω______

  When the light had dimmed enough, they looked first at wonder at each other and then down at Ilena’s hand. The ring finger was now clear of the curse, though her hand remained pustuled and rough as before. “I think we come near the end, Ilena.” How Erick loved that name as he did her.

  “So we have yet to wait,” she replied, somewhat sourly.

  Erick smiled down at her. “Yes, still we need to be patient.” He laughed to see her make a frown. “But we know the ring fights yet to free you.”

  And he perceived that Ilena took comfort in his words and in his arms.

  ______Ω______

  When she awoke in the early morning light, Ilena brushed back her now long unbound hair from her eyes and thrust her left arm up into the light and in the golden radiance of the dawn she saw only purity. Her first impulse as to race to find Nobody; but Ilena caught herself and bowed her head and gave thanks to God for her healing, for the lifting of the curse, and most of all, oh, most of all, for Erick. It was as her hands were clasped together that she detected a small bump on her palm and some slight pain.

  When she was done with her prayer, Ilena re-examined her left hand. Yes, there yet remained one spot where the curse held firm. And it was sore, tender, red, horny; but it was such a tiny spot that she almost thought not to make mention of it when she found Erick within his chamber. He was still asleep, his hair tousled from his slumber, his features softened by his night dreams. Before Ilena moved to wake him she tried to take all of him in. There were yet so many mysteries about him, but if truth be told, there remained much for her to tell him of herself. But the biggest mystery to her was how he had come to love her. What type of man was he that he had looked beyond the horror, the repulsiveness of what she had was been? Ilena was willing to spend the rest of her life discovering all the truth of that. And because he loved her, she knew that she loved him in return — with all of her heart.

  When she had awoken him, Erick had rejoiced with her believing that the curse was now finished; but once she had shown him the small blemish, he had gripped her hand firmly, exploring it closely. She yelped out in pain when he pinched it. “This is the source, Ilena — where the curse found its way into you. And it has to be removed.”

  She didn’t understand him at first. “In some manner, something was used to plant the curse within you. And unless it is removed, you will always live with the chance that it will seize you once more.”

  With widening eyes, Ilena watched him while he rummaged through his belongings and brought out a golden knife and tweezers and another crystal that held within what looked like a duet of flowers. “Come, we will need both the light and the fire of the kitchen.” This was an Erick that Ilena had only seen one other time when he had commanded her to wait and not flee from that chamber. A serious purpose and intent had settled on his face and she followed him meekly, for now Ilena trusted him as much as she loved him.

  ______Ω______

  “It will hurt, Ilena, for the Pure One told me that no numbing agent can be used; for nothing must inhibit the rise of whatever still lives within you.”

  Ilena crushed the urge to look away as he prepared to cut into her palm, for still all this talk of the curse had troubled her over the last few weeks. She had peeled away at that question until it had been pared down to: who? Who of all she had known as a young girl would have wished to curse her? But Ilena pushed that worry away and gave her silent assent as Erick firmly gripped her hand with the golden knife posed about it.

  He sliced the sore open deeply but instead of red blood seeping out, a greenish black pus began to boil out and that hurt her
skin more than the open wound. If Erick had not had her hand tightly within his own she would have yanked it away. “Patience, my lady.”

  He held the twisters ready above her hand, posed to act, watching closely. To Ilena’s astonishment, a small gleaming point of silver rose up out of the growing pool of stinking liquid. In one rapid motion, Erick plucked it out of her hand and with its removal, the pus ceased its flow and agitation. But Erick was not done. Without hesitation, he cracked open the second crystal and removed one of the flowers and carefully dropped the silver fragment into its centre. At its touch, the flower began to blacken and shrivel in on itself.

  “Do not move, Ilena,” Erick said in warning, as he tossed the bloom along with the tweezers into the hearth. A blinding blaze of light filled it as the lotus and the golden implement ignited. Suddenly, a wind howled into the kitchen funnelling the billowing golden fumes up the chimney and out into the sunshine of the early morning.

  Still, Erick was not done, for he removed a second lotus from the crystalline case and wrapped it about her hand. At its contact with her palm, a warmth and a wholeness poured into her wound. And within moments, this second flower began to dry and flake away, and eventually, turned into a golden dust. When she brushed it off, Ilena found the palm of her hand whole. Even the old wound from the knife cut that Erick had stitched together had vanished. It was then that Ilena knew that the last of the curse was no more.

  And with that knowledge she also understood that the final barriers to her desires no longer existed. Pulling Erick’s head down to hers, Ilena met his lips with her own.

  ______Ω______

  The old crone fell to the ground twisting in agony. Too much of herself had been put into that curse, and now it was dead, and she knew her own life would soon begin to ebb away unless she found another power to serve. After the pain had lessened, she stumbled up to her feet lurching toward her hovel, intent on gathering the few items she could not bear to abandon, preparing, with a reluctance few could ever fathom, to begin her journey out into the true world.