The Boy and His Curse

by Michael P Mordenga

  The trolls knew this was the livelihood of the Phaenix, now burning before their eyes. They had power over it, they had control even over the Phaenixs’ god.

  Fragile looked admiringly at his decision to burn it down. He glanced over at his brother. “You see how my leadership skills led to burning the temple of the East. Watch how I overcome their god.”

  Kashun shuddered again. “Our dark lord Avero grows tired of your slippery tongue.”

  Ashen stood in the back of the group with Urk, polishing his sword. He loved his sword as much as the father who gave it to him. It was a long, white broadsword, the hilt made of ivory with a marble base. His father had given him simple instructions when he handed Ashen the sword: “Do not let the white show, but let the glory of red color this blade.” Ashen had honored those words from the very beginning of this battle. He was a master wielder who was more trained than any general in the army. His sword wielding skill was often compared to the swiftness of the wind coupled with the sheer power of thunder. He had the uncanny ability to strike an opponent with such force and speed that they couldn’t retaliate. That was why his iron armor had the most Phaenix wing clippings on it. He had not had the challenge he was looking for. No farmer or low level guard could even match his severe training. It was an insult for him to wait this long to fight anyone with experience. Perhaps the one they called Mollet would hear of his feats and face him.

  Urk was ripping apart a large butterfly when his nose picked up a scent. He followed the trail through the trees and past the meadows, until it became stronger near a large sycamore tree. The smell was unmistakable. He ran toward the generals.

  “Fragile, Fragile! Tell your archers to fire in that tree.”

  Fragile knew Urk had never been wrong in his instincts. With a simple command, the archers lifted their bows. The arrows whistled in the air. Most of them came through the leafy boughs to the other side of the tree, but a few of them stuck deep into Urk’s target of suspicion.

  He was right; a female Phaenix fell out of the tree. She landed hard, yelping on the way down. She had arrows in her midsection and wings. The arrows had struck, but they weren’t fatal; only excruciatingly painful. She struggled, twisting to get the arrows out of her body, hoping to get some help, but only the army of Fragile surrounded her. Their faces were aglow with hungry smiles and their eyes pierced her body with sick hatred. She was afraid and no one could help her.

  Fragile came over, bearing the toothiest grin for finding the Phaenix. He scanned her body, auburn hair and a small slender frame. It was Sasha, daughter of Budgeron, but to Fragile it was just a lame Phaenix. Picking her up by a clump of her hair, he hoisted her like a piece of trash.

  His square jaw warped into a smile. “We have caught a nosy bird. Apparently this young fowl wants to know how the trolls will take over her land.”

  The army cheered, yelling out curses.

  She winced in pain.

  Gripping her head with his tight claws, Fragile forced her to look at his trolls. They were numerous, filling every spot of the forest as far as she could see. She suddenly felt fear, not because of her likely death, but because she saw how devastating this army was. They could rip through everything and not a single Phaenix or force could stop them.

  Fragile moved so close to her face that his fur touched her. She saw the rancor in his yellow eyes and the arrogant nose of her enemy.

  “No spy in all the world could save you from the massacre we are about to launch. The very jaws of death will gape open to swallow your ill-bred race.”

  He aimed her sight at the burning temple. It was a sickening sight to any Phaenix. “See how your hope burns! The ashes are a testimony to prophecy. You Phaenix have been living off the fat of the land, but you never deserved it. You never earned such a fine piece of land and our army marching through the East completely uncontested shows that you will never return to it!”

  Sasha had always believed in Faeria as her homeland, a gift from the Daysun. That was what had drawn her to spying. She couldn’t bear the thought of an enemy taking everything her father had fought for. Even with a betrothal promise, she had sacrificed it all to spy on this perverse army. And because of her effort, she knew she must shout something at this vile leader.

  “You will die for this,” she said between painful gasps. “We will find you on the battlefield and light your flesh on fire. The Daysun will hand you over to us just like all the rest.”

  A raucous laughter detonated from the troops, and even Fragile found it funny. Sasha was not finished yet; she felt that she needed to say something rising up in her tiny frame. “The weakest one will destroy you. The one you thought was your slave will ensnare you. The Daysun will use him.”

  None of the troops could see it, but Fragile’s heart stopped cold. Even Kashun couldn’t help but smile. What did she say? Many Phaenix, in moments of extreme stress, would spout out prophetic words of nonsense before they died. Fragile had just witnessed such an occurrence.

  “Throw her into the fire that burns the temple!” Fragile yelled, tossing her at his trolls.

  The Kalhari trolls paraded her body away from the sycamore tree, leaving only Urk and Fragile to stand. Urk sniffed the tree again.

  “What do you smell, Urk?”

  He pointed to one of the limbs of the tree, “There is one more.”

  Suddenly the leaves exploded. A male Phaenix flew out, flapping his wings with immense force. He was up in the air and out of sight before Fragile could react, but he did notice the Phaenix had an arrow stuck in his side. It wouldn’t be long before the wound would slow him down.

  “We let him get away,” Urk said with disappointment.

  Fragile nodded; he had other things on his mind.

  *****

  The war room was empty save for the Master of Defense and the Queen. It seemed urgent for them to be in this meeting. Budgeron sat at the mahogany table with a stack of papers he had collected. He wore his army Phaenix tunic; a green suit with various patches representing different victories. With the stack of evidence and the reports he had heard, he knew what he had to say.

  The Queen was ready to go to war. It had been gnawing at her mind since the attack on the East. She couldn’t wait for prophecies or spy reports, not in a land she swore to protect. Now she was ready to go to battle. Nothing could hold her back from being the protector of this homeland. Wearing her royal battle uniform, a platinum chest plate over a purple gown, she was prepared to address her people about the situation.

  Budgeron eyed his stacks of papers given to him by the spies. It was enough to throw the entire homeland into panic. He loved this country as well, but the reports he was given sucked all his hope away.

  “Eight hundred sword trolls, seven hundred archers, three hundred artists, and they have three hundred sokratist bears.”

  The Queen’s weary face sunk; already this wasn’t going well.

  Budgeron continued, “Going to war would be self-stabbing, especially when we have no advantage. They swallowed up the East Forest in one battle. That was with our reserves. There is no likelihood we can defeat them, even if the Daysun sent thunder quakes.”

  Her face turned sour. “So we are just going to lay down for them?”

  Now Budgeron nervously played with his mustache. “I don’t know what to do. I have never needed much strategy, even though I am the strategist. All of our other battles were determined by the deacons who prayed. Even when we were outnumbered then, each time we destroyed those armies by the Daysun’s control. You remember when we took out the Perkian outbreak with only one squad of Phaenix? What about the time we thwarted the Darken race? I mean, it was impossible to thwart a Darken, but we did it! But now we are going to enter into this battle without any help. We might as well ask the Wolfians or Elfins to help.”

  She almost scolded him for the poor joke, but then she saw his face was dead serious. “What kind of message would we be sending if we asked for help? It would bring total disgrace
to our nation. You know how they see us; they identify us as the free race of glory. It makes them bitter inside. We can’t go to war with a Wolfian or an Elfin at our side; they might get the idea that we can be taken over because we are weak. There must be another way.”

  “My Liege, if I may speak to Duggenbird—“

  “No!” the Queen hissed. “Duggenbird is a Phaenix of the Truxton Council, and don’t think I don’t know what you are doing. Asking him for the Truxton global committee to interfere with this war, that is blasphemy. You know they are laughing at us, enjoying our predicament. I forbid you to see him.”

  Budgeron dragged his fingernails against the table. He hated these kinds of talks with the Queen. He once had needed to ask for a higher budget for the military and she almost kicked him out of the castle. She was definitely righteous and royal, but not very kind about it.

  “We can raise the phantom sphere,” the Queen offered.

  He shrouded his face in his hands. “My Liege, the phantom sphere?”

  “It will definitely kill all of our enemies,” she rationalized.

  “Yes, and then it will come for us. You remember the battle with the Elfins. They gave us the phantom sphere to help us cope with our spider infestation. The sphere took care of all nine-legged creatures, but then the sphere came back for us. It killed thirty Phaenix before someone could stop it. That’s a self-stab in itself.”

  The Queen rose up from the table. She was a stunning sight in her royal battle garment. Even if she had never ridden out for battle, she was still a symbol of the enduring, obstinate Phaenix. She may have been old and frail, but she still had fire inside her.

  “When my mother was ruling over this land, she made a vow to leave it with peace. She fulfilled that vow. Can I not follow in her footsteps? My one prayer to the Daysun every night is that he would honor my right as Queen and give me peace before I die. I beg in these prayers, and sometimes I feel like they come back to me, unheard and unanswered. I don’t want to leave this land knowing my Phaenix race was annihilated by a jealous group of ruffians. We are a prideful people, I will give you that, but I will not stand and let the other nations judge us on this. I say if we have to fight for being Phaenix, then let us fight! Let us go to war! If we are outnumbered and we have no weapons, at least they will have to destroy us first. And when they do destroy us, it won’t be our enemies that judge our pride, but it will be the destiny of battle. Let it be known that a Phaenix answers to no people except its own.”

  When she was done, she sat down and looked deep into Budgeron’s eyes. He had a smile on his face. “I was hoping you would say that, my Liege. Shall I get the troops ready?”

  She granted permission and he was out the door.

  “And then Lucinda decreed that the house of Bastian and the houses after Bastian would never have the gift of motherhood nor fatherhood. And thus the Faerie seed would be kept sacred until death.”

  -From the parchment of “The Horrid Generation”

  X: Parental Units

  Ethan fidgeted with the leaf bandage on his leg. It was sticky and it constantly tingled. All that tingling was cauterizing the wound and cleansing it from infection, but it still felt like fire ants were gnawing on him. Still, he felt worse for Caitilin.

  She had leaf bandages covering her head and a wooden “T” frame supporting her back. The frame kept her wings in place and she looked to be in constant pain, though she didn’t complain. But of all the injuries she suffered, the hopeless look on her face was the most dispiriting. She had seen the ravenous enemy and learned how much hate they carried. It burned inside her that these senseless creatures wanted her homeland and made mockery of her god. Was nothing sacred in Faeria? Ethan could hear her nervous teeth grinding from where he was sitting.

  They were both lying on mats in Gibbs’ den, trying not to think of their pain. They had just seen a taste of battle and it was frighteningly horrible. Neither Caitilin nor Ethan wanted to step back into the arena with those foul beasts.

  Ethan hated the idea that his fighting skills lacked everything. He couldn’t even throw a dagger a relatively short distance at a meat filled, furry beast thing. It was just another example of how horrible he was when he just wanted to be competent. It also reminded him of the other things he couldn’t master. There was the foreign movie he didn’t understand, the acoustic guitar he owned, but didn’t know how to play, and of course the illusive driver’s license. Now he could add troll killing to the list of things he sucked at. If these trolls were math problems or history reports they would have been crushed by Ethan's intellect. He could accomplish anything with book smarts. Unfortunately trolls were not part of his education.

  The two soaked in their self-pity. All they could do right now was stare at the ceiling and wait for their jitters to dissolve.

  Caitilin looked absolutely wrecked before the presence of Hinson and it thoroughly bothered her. She never wanted to look like a vegetable in traction in his presence. Hinson was a tall, tan, and stunning Phaenix, but that is not why Caitilin had eyes for him. He was also a masterful priest and could speak luminous rings of Daysun theology. When he wasn’t fulfilling his tasks as master hunter and provider, he was preparing to become the next high priest. Hinson had memorized The Shaye and could recite any prayer from his vast mind. She had always been attracted to him, fascinated at how he redefined a true mate. Of course, she could never get the chance to talk to him. He was so busy doing important work, like training with Gibbs as the high priest taught him sacrifice, prayer, and discipline. Hinson basically lived a Caitilin-free existence.

  Hinson was back in Gibbs’ cottage, sitting on one of the priest’s cushions. The charismatic high priest paced back and forth, deep in thought. What was he pondering, Ethan wondered? All he wanted to do was go home. Why did the Phaenix still need him here?

  A startling thought grazed his mind. Did the Phaenix want Ethan to stay? That didn’t make sense; they all hated him except Caitilin. It was preposterous, but he was still in Faeria and not one person had recently asked him about leaving.

  “Ethan, I want you to stay…,” Gibbs blurted out.

  “What?” Ethan tried to jerk upright, but the pain from his leg wound kept him down.

  Gibbs turned to Hinson, who nodded back, and then turned to Caitilin, who gave the priest an odd look.

  Gibbs returned back to Ethan. “This is against everything I believe and everything I have ever been taught, but I need you to stay here.”

  “Wait, for how long?” Ethan asked nervously.

  Gibbs continued pacing, for this question could not be answered with a simple response. The explanation would probably confuse the boy. “You see Ethan, Phaenix don’t dream. We can’t dream, it’s not part of our cortical brains. But last night, I had an Earthian dream.”

  Caitilin gasped.

  “While I was saving your kotoma, I had a vision of you on the battlefield. It’s the battlefield where the trolls will strike next. In this dream, you were in Phaenix battle gear. Now, I won’t even go through the inconsistencies with that, but I was given a vision of you on the battlefield, wearing battle armor. Also in this dream, the glorious army of the trolls came. I don’t even have to see them for myself and I know they are more numerous than we will ever be. No doubt they will destroy us and the Daysun will lose his people.”

  Ethan couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but every wrinkle and line on Gibbs’ face was grim.

  “That is why I want you to stay. The Daysun has expressed desire that he wants you to be in this battle. I am in shock as to why, but this is how Phaenix defeat their enemies. We let our god fight for us. He wants you in this battle and it is my job to make sure you stay.”

  Ethan was shaking now. “Caitilin, what is he saying? You promised I could go home.”

  She was sorrowful, but understood this was good news in some way. “Ethan, calm down, this isn’t just about you.”

  Not about me, he thought. My life is apparently now about
winged people in dresses. Don’t I deserve satisfaction? “I have a life at home; I have friends and parents who need me. I can’t leave and stay with you guys. Don’t get me wrong, I am thankful, but please acknowledge that I need to go home.”

  Hinson could not stay silent any longer. “The way you took war to the troll also confirms it. No Earthian has ever attempted an attack on a creature in the Magi lands; you were the first courageous one. What power would give you the authority to do this? Only the Daysun. And you must remember this was the race that gave you the curse. They have venom toward us that thrives. It humiliates and infuriates me that an Earthian would join us, but if the Daysun wills it, that is what the Daysun will have. I will bite the pride of my tongue.”

  Hinson could always speak any truth with authority. It was the natural born leader inside him. Gibbs agreed with his statement.

  “I think the key word is attempted,” Ethan replied. “I am horrible at battle. I didn’t even save you, Caitilin. I just want to go home.”

  Gibbs spoke again. “We will try to get you home, but for right now we need you. This is the first time in Phaenix history we have needed an Earthian, but it’s what our god wants. It’s part of our kotoma to follow it.”

  Caitilin immediately felt a hard lump develop in her throat. She had forgotten that she needed to tell Ethan the hardest thing. Now was not the best time, but she couldn’t take it anymore. Her wings felt the strength to get up and she was able to stand up again. It still made her woozy to walk, but she needed to be near the boy to do this.

  “Ethan,” she said, gently putting her hand on his leg. “Do you remember when I told you everything would go back to normal when the curse was lifted?”