A Hero's Curse

by P. S. Broaddus

  Lem slows when we pass the remains of the daemon’s army. The crumbling ground has caught up with them, and Tig says it looks like most have been swallowed. The rest are running from the flood that is following. Over the rush of wind I tell Lem and Tig what the daemon said at the Cauldron. They take the story in and don’t try to bombard me with questions afterward. Sooner than I think is possible Lem yells over his shoulder, “We’ve almost left the Gray Wastelands. We’re passing the cliffs.”

  “Lem,” I yell, “go to Plen!” Lem banks hard, and we rush away from the Gray Wastelands, away from the Valley of Fire, and over the low hills—all just ahead of the rains. We can’t get far enough ahead for Tig. I smell the rain behind us. So does Tig. I hope the rain catches us. I would love to feel a downpour. I get the impression, however dry it has been, Tig doesn’t.

  “This will probably change things,” says Lem over the beat of his wings. “With time the wastelands will be plains and swamp again. The floods in Aeola will recede.”

  “All that water,” groans Tig. “We had it so good in the desert.”

  Chapter 26

  I smell the smoke well before we arrive.

  “The smoke is Plen?” asks Lem.

  “It must be,” says Tig. “It’s in the right place.” I don’t have long to worry about it.

  Soon Lem slows, and I feel him drop what must be quite a few feet and then, “Hold on,” and we hit the ground at a run. He slows to a trot and then from a trot to a walk.

  “Tig?” But Lem answers my question.

  “We are on the outskirts of Plen, Essie.”

  I start, and my hand grips Lem’s mane tighter. “Already?”

  Lem blows a breath that sounds like a chuckle. “Yes, already. Traveling on the wind is faster than tunnels.” He tosses his head. “I cannot stay. The Exarus are not welcome in this kingdom.” Shouts from the city sound far off. I can smell the smoke, but it isn’t blowing this direction. The wind is to our backs, blowing out to sea. I wrap my hands in Lem’s thick mane to slip off. My hands are trembling again.

  “Hey, shorty,” Lem says, and I pause. “Maybe I’ll get to see you again.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Who knows, you still may get your sight back someday.”

  For the first time, I know how to respond. “I’m okay with who I am.”

  “Kitten . . .” Lem pauses, searching for the right words, “you’re as annoying as I imagined you would be. But you’re Essie’s friend, so I might not step on you the next time we meet.”

  “I don’t like you, either,” says Tig in a good natured tone. I slip down Lem’s side. I can hear the fire now. It sounds like the roar of some unchained monster. But on the back of my neck I feel a breath of cool, and I can taste the moisture in the air. Another shout comes from the direction of the city, this one closer and directed at us.

  “Essie Brightsday, you’re one of a kind. Don’t forget us.” I hear Lem take a couple of steps back and feel a blast of air as he pushes himself off the ground.

  “I won’t!” I shout. He wheels around, and I know he will try to get above the storm. It is coming fast. I turn and start forward, not waiting for Tig’s direction.

  “Time to get quiet again,” says Tig.

  “Yeah, right. That’ll be a first.”

  “Straight ahead, girl.”

  I nod. “Let’s go find them.”

  “I say let’s get inside before the rain gets here!” Tig yowls. I break into a trot, heading for the city.

  “Hold!” a masculine voice shouts from in front of us. “The city’s on fire! You need to leave while you can, girl!”

  “I am looking for Killian or Keira Brightsday!” I shout back.

  “The commanders and any who can wield magic are battling the inferno. None can enter the city. Turn back!”

  “Tell him I’ve brought something greater than magic!” There is a pause and a small wooden door bangs open.

  “Come here, girl.” He hesitates as I trot forward. I feel the heat now, hear the splitting of timbers, the falling of stone. “What’s your name, lass?”

  “Essie Brightsday, daughter of First Champion Killian Brightsday.”

  The guard lets out a loud breath. “You don’t say. By my beard . . . and I don’t even have a beard.” He turns and shouts back over his shoulder, “You, boy, run as fast as you can to the plaza in front of Keeper’s Bridge, tell Commander Killian that his daughter is here. Essie Brightsday. Go!”

  I have come right up to the gate now. A big hand takes my own before he calls out to other guards to come over. Turning back to me he says, “We can’t stay here. It’s too dangerous for the both of us, lass. Most everyone has gotten out of the city. It’s Cairns Fire. When it gets to the right size it erupts. There won’t be nothing left of Plen. There’s only a few of us left doing what we can to slow it down, but it don’t look good. I’m sorry, but I’ve got to get you out of here in a hurry.”

  I pull out of his hand. “I can’t do that. I need to see Mom and Dad, Keira and Killian. I’m not leaving again.”

  “I’m sorry, lass, I can’t risk it,” he says. Several other heavy feet bound over to the guard. “We need to get her out of the city,” the guard says. “She’s Keira and Killian’s daughter.” A murmur runs through the group, and I feel my face go hot. Two sets of hands scoop me up and start trotting me back out the gate.

  “You all go with her. Get out of here. We won’t last much longer. Keep pushing as many folks out of this end of the valley as you can.” Several more pairs of boots join us as the whole group starts at a quick jog back up the road. I kick and scream at the top of my lungs. Another pair of hands grabs my feet.

  One of the guards curses. “Crazy cat! Get out of here!” That’s when I hear them.

  “Stop!” Dad. The guards stop and set me down.

  “Essie!” Mom screams. I wrestle out of the hands on my shoulders and stagger forward.

  Tig spits at someone and bounds over to my side. A gust of air catches my hair, and I smell the rain again. Sharp and crisp and tingly.

  Two sets of feet, one heavy, one light, come through the gate at a run. I have never run in my life. But now I can’t not run. I throw my arms open wide and race back toward my parents.

  They catch me at the same time, and we all collapse in the road. We are laughing. Or crying. I don’t know which. Tig jumps up into the middle with us. Mom has my face in her hands, and Dad’s huge arms are around us all. Not awkward, not tense. Just fierce.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “Hello, Brightstar.” Dad pulls me in close. His shoulders are shaking. Then he lets me breathe again. I feel him studying me. I run my hands over his face. His eyes are wet. One ear and the side of his head is covered with a wound only a few days old. It isn’t hot. It’s clean. Not infected.

  “I know about the daemon, Dad,” I blurt.

  I feel a tremor run through his arms, and his eyes get squinty. “I-I-I’m so sorry, Ess.” Dad’s jaw is trembling, so he clenches it hard. I feel his eyebrows furrow and his forehead wrinkle. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you a long time ago. I didn’t want you to hate me.”

  “I know.” I run a hand over his chin. He hasn’t shaved in about a month. His beard is full and untrimmed. “You look good in a beard, but I can’t see your face as well.”

  “It’ll have to go.”

  “I know about the daemon’s trick,” I say. Dad just nods, not trusting himself to speak.

  “You should have killed him,” I say.

  Here Dad nods his head. “I know.”

  “We have to get away from Plen,” Mom interrupts.

  “Leave the city!” shouts Dad over my shoulder. “Move the last of them out!”

  A drop the size of Tig’s paw hits the top of my head. “Dad, I brought something.”

  He hesitates. Another drop hits him, and I feel part of the splash on my own face.

  “Rain.” I look up and another large drop hits my cheek. That’s when I hea
r the music. Not loud. Just snatches. Another drop hits my face. And another. And another. The pieces of music somehow start to meld together. It is so beautiful and gentle and sharp that I hold my breath. “Music is stronger than magic,” says Illiana’s voice in my head.

  The patter around us is only the beginning. I hear the storm coming now. The sound is competing with the inferno in the city. Now the raindrops are all around. Soft and cool and wonderful. Dad pulls me into a hug and holds on tight. I push away so that I can feel his face again. He still holds my shoulders.

  “We destroyed the Burning Cauldron. I tried to kill it, too, but it—it got away.”

  “How, Ess?” Dad’s voice drops a little bit.

  “I had sunfire. I tried to destroy him. He told me about the Daemon’s Dusk, and why you let him go last time, because he said he would remove the curse. I tried, Dad. I’m sorry, I couldn’t do it. And then it was too late. He got away.”

  I feel Dad’s face. No more wrinkles in the forehead. His mouth is open. He closes it. “Brightstar, I’m the one who’s sorry.” His voice gets choked up, and he can’t talk for a minute. “It sounds like you have quite a story,” he says, a rasp in his voice.

  That makes me smile. “Yeah. I guess.” Dad pulls me back into a hug, and I let him. I feel more toward Dad than ever. I can’t sort it out. It’s all mixed up. But I feel his arms tight around me, and I know he won’t let go this time. Tig yowls from in between us and mutters that he can’t believe we are just standing out in the rain. Mom brushes a strand of hair from my face and tucks it behind my ear.

  “Essie Brightsday,” she whispers, “welcome to the world of color.”

  Chapter 27

  Tig and I are walking the pipeline. Not because we have to check for leaks anymore. The river is more full than I have ever heard it. When Tig and I set out this morning Dad cautioned me not to get too close, then he must have thought better of it because he said, “You know what you’re doing. See you soon, Brightstar.”

  I just wanted to hear the Mar. It is rushing through the pipeline to our farm with so much pressure there are hundreds of leaks. Not that we even need the water now. It has rained almost every other day for the past three weeks.

  Dad wanted to show the irrigation system to a farmer from down the valley. We are selling our home and land. Mom says we are moving back to the palace. The old heroes and valley folk want Dad to take back his role as First Champion until King Mactogonii is back and well enough to take the throne. They wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  I’m excited, but scared at the same time. It will be a whole new world, and while I’m getting more comfortable with who I am, I still feel uncomfortable thinking of living in Plen. I am still wearing the red bandana. Mom cut it so that it fits a little better. It helps keep stuff out of my eyes, and Tig says it makes me look mysterious.

  Tig voices the thought we have both wondered about again. “I wonder why you weren’t killed by the sunfire,” he says.

  “Don’t sound so disappointed.”

  He chuckles.

  I don’t answer his question. I don’t know, either. The white light hasn’t gone away. My days aren’t spent in darkness anymore. Just pure, soft, unrelenting light. I thought it would go away, but it hasn’t yet.

  I hear something on the air. It is wings, but they sound big. Too big. “Tig?”

  Tig hears it too and hisses. Then I hear him do the rrrrtt that is his chuckle. “Lem.” I feel the wings buffet us as Lem settles down. No dust. That feels great.

  “Essie!”

  “Illiana?” I step forward, one arm stretched out. Illiana races up to me and tackles me with a big hug. We both lose our balance and fall over in the new grass.

  “I knew you would make it!” she yells. I feel Lem step up and nuzzle us both with his warm soft nose.

  “Hey, short stuff.”

  I laugh and push myself into a sitting position. “No, you didn’t. You thought I was a goner.”

  “Oh, yeah, I guess I did.” Illiana’s voice drops, and she grabs my hand. “I am so sorry, Essie, I didn’t think you would have to face the daemon. I didn’t know what to do. And then the queen—” she breaks off.

  “It’s okay. Is the queen pretty mad?” I ask. I feel Illiana squeeze my hand and Lem nuzzles my shoulder.

  “Kind of,” Illiana giggles. “I mean, she had me thrown in prison and then banished me, so yeah.”

  My mouth falls open. “No way!”

  “Yeah, it was pretty much awful. But then during my trial my public advocate said I didn’t do anything technically illegal except open a wave portal, and that wasn’t that bad. The council wanted me in the deeps. The queen talked them into banishing me instead, so here I am.”

  “Banished!” My mouth is still open.

  “Yeah, but it’s okay. I think the queen did us a favor. We kind of got to be friends with King Mactogonii while he was in Aeola, and he said we were always welcome in the Kingdom of Mar. We’re going to see if he needs a couple of messengers or something.” Illiana grabs my other hand. “Isn’t that neat? We’re going to be in the same Kingdom! I can come visit you lots, and we can go flying with Lem and—”

  “Illiana—” I try to interrupt.

  “And Tig can come. I was thinking about a special saddle that he could really get a grip on—”

  “Illiana—” I try again.

  “And I really want to meet your parents! You said your dad was a champion back in the day right?”

  “Illiana!” I yell, but I am laughing again.

  “What?” she asks. She’s not at all out of breath.

  “I’m moving to the palace, too. Dad’s taken the post of First Champion again. We’re moving this week.” I think the whole kingdom can hear Illiana’s shriek.

  “You’re both acting ridiculous,” intones Tig loftily from off to my right.

  I reach out and grab him by the scruff of the neck and drag him into my lap. He hates that. “And you,” I cup my hands around his face, which he also hates, “are acting like such a cat!”

  Gratitude

  Over the years several employers have subsidized Essie’s story during lunch breaks, coffee breaks, snack breaks, scribbling breaks, doodling breaks, and writing breaks. Thank you.

  To all those cats I have known and fondly scratched behind the ears, you lent this story much in the way of character and personality. Even though you don’t care about me saying it, "Thank you.”

  Ethan. I appreciate your confidence and support. Among other things you helped as both a fire wielder and cat-wrangler.

  Lucia and George. Thank you for the advance read, plot feedback, and for championing the story.

  Daniel. You’ve had to listen to my stories since the beginning. Most were awful. And then I broke your foot. Thanks for sticking it out.

  Mom. Thanks for reading and editing and encouraging, every time.

  Papa. Thanks for insisting that character matters and on “yes ma’am” and for valuing and telling stories.

  My wife. You believed in me before there was anything much to believe in. You always made it possible to write. Thanks for listening and reading, again and again.

  And to you, my readers. It’s a perilous business stepping out and reading a new author. Thank you for taking that risk.

  About the Author

  Parker is a scribbler and storycrafter who grew up on a cattle ranch in Southwestern New Mexico, married a wood nymph from the foothills of the Smokey Mountains, and now follows two happy and endlessly curious little boys from one adventure to another.

  He has several C. S. Lewis books on his shelf and reads J. R. R. Tolkien at every opportunity. He loves whimsical Mole, kind Rat, and wise Badger in The Wind in the Willows. He also thinks John R. Erickson, Brandon Mull, and Andrew Peterson are great writers with excellent books.

  Now you know a little more about the author. Not everything. Because you don’t know about his first dog Toby, his having the top bunk as a kid, or about the time he ra
n away from home with a red wagon (he got hungry and came back at suppertime).

  He loves to hear from readers and is known to enjoy old-fashioned handwritten letters. You can visit him at www.psbroaddus.com to find the latest contact information, behind the scenes clips from A Hero’s Curse, and lots of cool illustrations.

  It

  takes a team

  to publish a book.

  The Burke Writers League

  reviewed much of the story, honing,

  encouraging and editing. The good folks

  at the National Federation of the Blind, Writer’s

  Division, offered great feedback on the first several

  chapters. Our many Kickstarter backers supported and

  shared. Lisa Rojany, editor, believed, chopped, refined,

  and polished. Illustrators Rebecca Weaver and Danny

  Kundzinsh brought passion and color. Elizabeth

  Crislip infused life and laughter as Essie in

  audio production. Nikki Georgacakis

  demonstrated her immense skill

  in e-book layout and design.

  So you see, it really

  does take a

  village.