The Boy and His Curse

by Michael P Mordenga

  Ethan gulped.

  Hinson continued, “All we ask is that you escort us to the library of Phaenix and the castle. This is not about treason. We are not hiding anything. We are giving the boy over to royalty. And I will make this promise to you.”

  Mollet was listening. There was something about a promise from a clergy member that made him pay attention.

  “I vow to you. If we attack the castle, I give you permission to kill Ethan and myself. That is a vow, which means that I cannot break it. What do you say?”

  “You’ve lied to us before.” Mollet was right and it ate at Hinson’s soul.

  “You’re right.” He looked away in shame. “But I don’t break my vows.”

  The warrior Phaenix still didn’t like the idea, but he had no choice. Mollet didn’t want to kill Phaenix and if he was going to kill Ethan he wanted to use his worthy Vota. The Queen would definitely publicly execute the boy anyway.

  He bowed his head to Hinson. “You are bonded by your death. Do what you have to do. I will not lay a killing hand on the boy until the Queen sees him.”

  Caitilin sighed. They had just gotten the most powerful Phaenix on their side and he would escort them to the castle.

  Hinson pointed to the north where their destination lay. “Our next stop is the Northern Library.”

  Another urgent question occurred to Caitilin. “How are we going to get an Earthian out in public?”

  “If you are in the Daysun camp of beliefs and philosophy you believe in creation, renewal and order. If you are in the Avero camp of beliefs and philosophy you believe in destruction, loss and power. Both beliefs are trying to be victorious. Only the Phaenix have truly grasped the Daysun’s promises to make the world a new place through fellowship, community and virtue. The rest of the world tries to grab what they can before their life dwindles before their eyes. Then there is us Perkian beasts. We know that a master does not exist in the sky and life is just a scroll running to the end of its story. Our final fate is to close our eyes.

  The Perkian Understanding of Religion

  XIII: From Under the Dork Tree

  The trees were beginning to thin out, and red flower beds appeared along the path, along with dangling vines encasing the trees. These signs meant they were getting close to a Phaenix marsh. Meanwhile, the sunlight grew brighter through the trees and the air became warmer.

  Walking with the great warrior Mollet was a new experience for Earthian and deacon alike. The clergy members and non-Phaenix quickly learned Mollet had a tongue that would wilt a flower. He spoke with great anguish about how much he despised working with an Earthian. He made fun of the boy’s muscles, calling them too scrawny. He made light of Ethan’s lack of wings and said the human’s face had a striking resemblance to a rotting Kunwar fish. Hinson thoughtfully explained the Kunwar fish is the ugliest fish in Faeria.

  This whole experience made Ethan incredibly timid around the warrior, staying a good distance away from Mollet during all walking. Ethan instead walked next to Caitilin, who found Mollet to be repulsive and immoral. There was one word he kept using that made her turn her face in disgust. The word sounded like “mess” in Ethan’s language. When Ethan tried to pronounce the word she slapped him and then whispered in his ear.

  “A what?” Ethan was startled. It was sick thing, not even humans would do something that despicable on Earth. He began to blush immediately because he got all these horrible images in his head.

  Hinson was acting as leader of the group without intentionally planning to do so. He had successfully led the group through the forest, protected the boy from an execution, and swindled a warrior to aid them in their quest. He wasn’t sure if this was helping him be the next high priest or a master woodsman, or something else altogether. Gibbs felt it was imperative that the Phaenix of the Religistral stay away from the warriors. The disciplines of prayer and holiness were far from the savagery and power of the warrior lifestyle. Gibbs’ aim was to separate those two with a thick line. Hinson wasn’t sure, but he felt that he stood right in the middle.

  Gibbs admired Hinson for his confidence and attitude, treating him like an Earthian son. The high priest wanted to harness Hinson’s woodsman abilities and mix them with theological matters to form a wise, resourceful, but completely reverent Phaenix. So far the plan had been a success, but Gibbs had been keeping a keen eye on Hinson’s affinity for battle. When Hinson killed the trolls in the forest, Gibbs knew the old woodsman was still inside his future priest. Sure, natural skill was in every Phaenix, but a good deacon never chooses war over the holy orders of the Religistral.

  Another thought entered Hinson’s mind. He had lied to Mollet and his band of warriors. It was strictly forbidden in the Phaenix Deacon Code to bear false witness. Gibbs had again and again emphasized that the truth is always honored by the Daysun and lies are only honored by drunkards. He felt like a drunkard after telling all those fibs so that Mollet wouldn’t kill the boy. Yet what was he supposed to do? Ethan’s life was in danger and he had needed to think quickly to keep them both alive.

  His mind was always thinking, producing, and improvising for the well being of others. He couldn’t help it; his stream of survival was always spinning and it always found a way to solve problems or avoid trouble. Speaking of which, Hinson had one stop to make before they entered the North. He would need to make a detour into a forest community.

  Hinson led the group off the golden trail, instead taking a grass route near the border towns. After a few paces and a shortcut through a wild thicket, a whole town revealed itself. Little wooden boxes in trees and along roots showed an entire community. Laundry ropes held wet tunics. Some Phaenix had hung wooden signs with Phaenix writing on their houses. Off to the side there were female gardens and vegetable gardens. Two Phaenix sprouts played a game of puma ball with a stick and a leather ball. An old Phaenix split logs with an ax, while a heavyset Phaenix maiden carried water. In the far corner, a band of Phaenix used wind artistry to reposition a fallen tree trunk.

  The journeyers stayed in a patch of marsh outside the community. Ethan got a good look at what the Phaenix village looked like. There were no tablets, smart phones, or TV, just wood, sticks, vegetables, and tools. What did these people do for fun?

  “You see those red houses?” Caitilin pointed. “Those are Readying Houses for deacons. That is where Hinson was taught.”

  “Dunmira,” Hinson said. “I’m going to get a few supplies and talk to my deacon friend, but you need to stay here and make sure nothing happens to Ethan.”

  Caitilin snapped her fingers. “I have friends here, too”

  “Friends who will kill this boy.”

  Mollet laughed. “And I suppose you can get the twig to the North with these complications.”

  After Hinson went into town, Mollet sat down on a dead log stump and picked up a stick from the ground. From the lines on his face, they could tell he was still angry. Caitilin sat on a thicket of dead twigs and looked at the warrior she had once called friend. She knew Mollet from the days when he had lived in her community. Before he was called into battle training, he had been an energetic little sprout. He couldn’t help himself when it came to roughing up the other sprouts. Now he had turned it into a career.

  “How is Mara?”

  Mollet snorted, “I haven’t seen her since you last saw her.”

  “Is she still your betrothed?”

  “Yes.”

  Mollet didn’t say that very convincingly and Caitilin would not back down from her line of questioning.

  “Is she being kind?”

  “I guess.”

  “Has she written you any poetry?”

  “No.”

  “Have you killed an Octaflaught for her?”

  Mollet threw up his hand for her to cease, startling Ethan off of the log that he was sitting on.

  “Please Caitilin, either slit my throat or stop being a woman,” Mollet spit out.

  Mollet eyed Ethan and couldn’t help but
chuckle at the scrawny thing fancying himself a warrior. He took one serious look at the boy and saw the stringiest featherweight that had ever crawled out of a worthless world. It almost made him sick that Earth let people like Ethan live. He found a long stick on the ground; it wasn’t his sword, but it would have to do.

  “Have you ever seen a real swordsman before, twig?”

  *****

  Hinson was welcomed by a cheery-faced Phaenix who was ecstatic to see the deacon. All of the local Phaenix maids, woodsmen, and children crowded around him. Maidens were inviting him to dinner while the woodsmen wanted him to bless their houses. He felt distant from his former community, not wanting to revel in his glory. He asked for the whereabouts of Erok.

  A skinny Phaenix lady eagerly took his hand and brought him to the shrine of the Daysun. The small white tent of the shrine had the smell of burnt carrots billowing out of it. The woman pointed to the tent. “He was performing his deacon responsibilities at the shrine. He gave an offering for our town.”

  “Hinson? Is that the future high priest I hear?”

  Bursting from the curtain came a friend Hinson would never forget. A short, blonde deacon built like a three-time puma ball champion athlete, he had the softest ocean eyes capable of charming any creature.

  “What can I do for you, brother?” Erok embraced his longtime friend.

  “It’s urgent.”

  Erok’s eyes darkened and left to change out of his holiness garb. The all-white robe could never be worn outside vegetable offerings to the Daysun. He returned moments later wearing a blue robe.

  “What are your thoughts on this invasion?” Hinson asked.

  *****

  Mollet threw another stick at Ethan’s feet and nodded his head. “Take the stick. I would like to see how fast you will get killed in war.”

  Ethan nervously tapped the stick with his foot and looked toward Caitilin for confirmation. She gave him an assuring look and shrugging her shoulders. “What’s the harm?”

  “He could kill me!”

  “One thing Phaenix do right is make vows, twiggy,” Mollet crossed his burly arms to fight. “We don’t lie to each other like you Earthians are prone to doing. I said I wasn’t going to kill you, so I won’t. I’ll just wait until the Queen does.”

  Ethan looked at Caitilin again. She nodded along with Mollet. “You might learn something new.”

  Mollet scoffed, “Learning? Is that even Earthian?”

  Ethan’s anger rose. This warrior had been berating him all day. He reached down and grasped the stick in his hand. From the look of it, both sticks were light, so how much damage could someone do with them?

  Mollet moved into a clearing with soft ground. He pulled his long black hair back with a thin leather strap and removed his wooden breastplate. His legs were level with his shoulders as he crouched to perfect his center of gravity. He was a rock.

  “Show me what you’ve got.”

  Ethan stumbled to mimic Mollet’s stance, but he looked more like a newborn giraffe as he experimented with how he should hold the stick.

  “Ethan actually tried to kill a Kalhari near Gibbs’ place,” Caitilin boasted, hoping Mollet wouldn’t accidentally hurt the boy. Hinson wanted the boy to get a few bruises, although he hadn’t explained why. Mollet’s suggestion worked perfectly into that plan.

  “You killed a Kalhari?” Mollet exclaimed. “Tell me how you did it.”

  Ethan dropped his guard for a moment and began to recount what had happened. This was just what Mollet wanted and as Ethan lowered his arm, Mollet launched himself at the boy. He may have been a burly warrior, but he was also agile. Mollet planted both feet into Ethan’s chest. The boy felt his ribs spread and he flew backwards onto the mud.

  Caitilin’s groaned. Even she could feel that impact of that dropkick.

  Ethan’s chest ached, now there was a boot imprint on his sternum. He still needed to get up. The old Ethan would have given up after that blow, but he couldn’t let that be it.

  “Show me what you have.”

  “Mollet!” Caitilin growled. “Don’t kill him!”

  Determination numbed the pain in his chest and he rose from the mud. He found the stick and raised it.

  Running at Mollet with a full force. Mollet stared blankly, sighed and raised his knee into Ethan’s stomach. THUD. As an added measure, Mollet stomped on Ethan’s back with his boot.

  Caitilin shook her head. “Oh, Ethan.”

  “An overhead swing is the easiest way to receive death from your enemy,” Mollet taunted.

  Ethan did not want to stay down. Springing to his feet, he was back in fighting position.

  A smile grew on Mollet’s face. “I guess I was wrong about you. It will take three blows to knock you down. Come and get me, twiggy. Will Hinson be so quick to forgive me once I cripple you?”

  Adrenaline rushed through Ethan as he charged forward. He was aiming to stab Mollet in the eye. To his horror, Mollet wasn’t going to face Ethan head on. He sidestepped away and cracked his stick against the side of Ethan’s head.

  Ethan flew sideways with his eyes immediately tearing up. He rolled over in the mud and buried his burning cheeks. This time his whole body was a symphony of pulsating pain. It was enough hurt to make him dislike the idea of fighting. If any other creature, Phaenix or human, had been sparring with him Ethan would have gladly given up in order to nurse his wounds, but Mollet’s taunts drove him to reciprocate.

  He slowly got on all fours and struggled to get back on his feet. Ethan was covered in mud and his lungs burned when he breathed in, but he wasn’t finished yet.

  “I can do this all day, twiggy!” Mollet said.

  “I won’t stop you,” Ethan said, gritting his teeth.

  *****

  “I won’t stop you. Go right ahead.” Erok said, pointing to a plate of delicious fruit cookies. Hinson sat before a dessert feast.

  Erok was living a pretty posh life for a forest Phaenix. Gold banners lined his root house while his floor was lined with green gemstones. His table was crafted from the finest white oak, imported from the Wolfian’s forests. Gold plaques lined with Phaenix proverbs hung on the wall twinkling in the light.

  Hinson raised a crystal chalice to his mouth and took a sip of the green mint tea that steamed downward toward the rim.

  “Believe it or not, I have been praying to protect us from an invasion long before this happened. Now that there is one, I feel as if I should have prayed a little harder.”

  Hinson’s eyes studied the deacon. “You can’t blame yourself. No one knows why they are coming.”

  “I do know why.” Erok slowly gazed down. “The Daysun told me plain as day.

  “We are the chosen race of the Daysun. That is the truth, but I feel that we don’t act like the compassionate race of the almighty creator. We act as if we were the only ones created and that we are more worthy to be alive than others.”

  Hinson nodded.

  “And how do we treat the other races?”

  Hinson thought about it. Phaenix were taught to mistrust Wolfians, pity Earthians, mock Elfins, belittle Perkians, stay away from Darkens, and despise Kalhari. They didn’t show respect for the other tribes even though they believed the Daysun had created them too. He agreed with Erok.

  “We may be blessed in this land, but we have made the world around us poisoned by our attitude toward them. We are not acting as our creator wishes,” Erok said.

  Hinson’s eyes widened, “You’re not saying this is the Daysun trying to wipe us out?”

  Erok sighed. “I don’t know, but I am wondering how long a justice-loving entity like our Daysun will put up with our maltreatment of other races. The only time we have needed another culture is to buy things from them. This war may be a sign that we need to change things. My village has already been instructed to pray for the other races. Hopefully, that will be considered in this war, but I would need to discuss this with the Queen and share it with the rest of the North.”
/>   Never in his many cycles as a deacon had Hinson ever heard of the idea to praying for their neighbors. Some of them were even enemies. The Phaenix were always required to follow a strict code that ensured everyone in their own world would maintain healthy relationships, but the code did not apply to other tribes. It had never occurred to him that the proud race of the Phaenix should treat the other races with decency and respect. He didn’t notice that his fingernails had cut deep into the rich white oak while Erok spoke. Ethan fit Erok’s description perfectly. He was the neighbor who needed love. Maybe he had been put in this battle to start Faeria’s friendship with other nations. He knew the Daysun wanted Ethan to fight, but could not tell Erok for fear of the rumor spreading. He let it go.

  “Is that all the Daysun told you?”

  “No, he has shown me some visions I cannot explain. I was hoping you could tell me.”

  “Go on.”

  “I was standing in a village, like Dunmira, and it is filled with Phaenix. There are Phaenix of every age and gender. Suddenly, the sky grows black and fire reaches down and snags a Phaenix. I really can’t make out what kind of Phaenix it is, but I know it’s a girl.”

  Hinson sat back in his chair, “Hmmmm…fire usually represents judgment or wrath. Do you think this confirms your last revelation?”

  “No, this is one individual the Daysun is angry with. He is trying to tell us of oncoming danger and all I know is that it is a female in this village.”

  Shoving some of the fruit cookies in his pocket, Hinson gave Erok a concerned look. “Sounds like you need to look deeper into this. Try finding out where your Phaenix maidens were the day of the East invasion.”

  “I can do that,” Erok said assuredly.

  *****

  “Come and get me,” Mollet said to the standing Ethan. He was impressed Ethan had withstood this much pain. Naturally, a Phaenix warrior could withstand more, but for an Earthian this was beyond expectation. Even Caitilin thought Ethan would have given up long before now.