by DM Fike
Avalon shook her head.
“It’s not far from human civilization, nice moderate weather. All four seasons. Fall is beautiful there. Here’s nice.” He gestured out the window toward a Douglas fir. “But it stays so green. No matter how many years pass, I miss the purples and blues of a Wazan autumn.”
“You’re from Llenwald?” Avalon asked, trying not to let disappointment sneak into her voice. So far, everyone she had interviewed was not from Earth.
Xant’s tone turned defensive. “I may not wield earth magic, but I’m an elf, through and through.”
Avalon held up an apologetic hand. “I didn’t mean to imply anything.”
Xant immediately backed down. “My apologies. Not wielding magic was one of the main reasons Maranth and I left. Almost all boulder elves have some sort earth magic, even if it’s just moving pebbles around a little. But not us. We would always be second class citizens without it.”
“Miasmis never gave your daughter any new magic?” Avalon prodded.
“Nay,” Xant said, startled by the possibility. “Did it for others?”
“Yes.” At least, it did for me, Avalon thought.
“That would have been one silver lining in that curse of a disease,” Xant said. “I came here hoping to give my girl a fresh start, not watch her wither away.”
“How long have you been here on Earth?”
“About twelve years.” The tea kettle whistled. Xant got up to throw a few tea bags inside. “One of about twenty Aossi. I still keep in touch with the others, but they like their privacy, same as me.”
Everyone else she had met so far had always lived in seclusion, preferring to keep to themselves like Xant. “Did you consider living in Emerged Falls?”
“With the Guardians?” Xant scoffed. “All those lofty ideals and nowhere to put them. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate humans, but we’ll never peacefully coexist on Llenwald. The only reason this place works is because humans don’t know we’re here.”
“Did Nobody bring you here?” Avalon asked, referring to her former gremlin companion. She considered him something of an ally, possibly a friend, but he had also kept a lot of dangerous secrets.
Xant’s shook his head. “Nay, Bedwyr brought me here. He’s the one who suggested that Maranth should get tested for Miasmis. Apparently, many refugee girls contract it.” He swallowed hard air. “I was devastated when she was diagnosed.”
The tea now steeped, Xant poured two cups for each of them. He leaned against the wall instead of sitting back down. “I never met your mother, but your father was a human. Was she Aossi?”
“No.” Avalon took a timid sip of the tea. It tasted bitter without sugar, but Avalon knew better than to ask. Aossi rarely used it.
Xant scratched his head. “Is it common for humans to have Miasmis?”
“Apparently not.” Avalon clapped her notepad shut. “Thank you for your time.”
“I’m not sure how much I helped.”
“You’ve been very helpful.” Avalon at least had a pattern now, better than what she had before she interviewed the Miasmis patients. As she made for the door, her toe bumped the wooden crate full of jars Xant had cast aside. She noticed a familiar name on one and reached inside to snag it.
“’Digs Apothecary. Hagerman, Idaho,’” she read.
“Best salve you can get on Earth. Made by a dwarven healer.”
“I’ve heard of him,” Avalon muttered. “Do you mind if I write down the address?”
“Go ahead,” Xant shrugged.
“Thanks,” she said. “For the tea and the questions.”
“Anything for a Benton. My family owes you a debt.”
No, Avalon thought as she flipped the hoodie back up over her cheeks. My family owes you.
MAGIC CURSE: CHAPTER 2
AVALON STOOD INSIDE a temple-like room with high ceilings and ornate tile flooring. Marble columns lined a path toward a massive metal gate barring an open archway. Torches flickering emerald green flame beckoned her forward.
Dread smothered Avalon like a blanket. She didn’t know why, but she knew she should not touch that gate. She fled in the opposite direction, her footsteps becoming a macabre stopwatch. Tick. Tock. Tick.
Come. A voice whispered in her ear.
Shivering, Avalon halted and flipped back around. Somehow, she hadn’t moved an inch despite having taken so many steps.
She couldn’t run away from the gate.
Although she didn’t want to, Avalon straightened to face the ominous bars head on. An impulse forced one foot in front of her. Then another. A warm breeze hit her, having the eerie effect of chilling her to the core. Something rustled on the other side of the gate, its ghostly form swishing past the crossing bars. Avalon heard someone shouting at her to stop, echoing across a great distance.
Yards away, the rustling intensified, the creature beyond the gate hissing at her approach. It slammed against the door, rattling Avalon’s teeth.
Her instincts pushed her forward, despite her emotions screaming otherwise. She felt catatonic as she lurched forward. Her heels dragged, body unnaturally heavy, but little by little, something kept her moving toward whatever was throwing itself against barrier.
Come!
Avalon jerked awake, covered in sweat, heart still beating wildly. It took her a few seconds to get her bearings. She had parked the old gray sedan at a rest area, not far away from her interview with Xant. Weary from traveling, she’d left the road before she caused an accident. Parking in a nearly empty lot next to two drab buildings—one for each gender—the semi-steady stream of cars whistling down the road nearby had lulled her to sleep.
But sleep often brought the nightmare. She scrambled to lift her shirt sleeve, but no splotchy green bruise indicated that her Miasmis had returned.
Avalon slumped into the cracked vinyl seat. At first Avalon hoped it was a fluke, but the nightmares were becoming more frequent since the last attack at Saluzyme. Avalon wished she could dismiss it as her subconscious creating fears, but she’d had strange dreams before that hinted at the power inside her, the power James… no, Bedwyr had forced into her.
And that ghostly figure? It had to be Braellia, a previous incarnation of the Child of the Statue, who hated her very existence.
Shaking, Avalon fought back tears. She wouldn’t indulge in them. Instead, she wrapped her arms around herself, her fingers digging into the black hoodie that she wore more as much for comfort as for warmth against the chill air.
Kay’s hoodie.
The fairy knight had only worn it for a short time on Earth, but it was all Avalon had left of him. Her mind knew he was where he should be, back in Emerged Falls with his people, nursing his childhood sweetheart back to health from a horrific wound. Avalon had pushed them through a portal back to Llenwald with the last of her magical powers, and she would never regret that decision. It had been the right thing to do.
But her heart ached remembering him. Kay had protected her against people who sought her power. Power that her nightmares suggested she might still have. She wished desperately that he could be here, protecting her, but he loved someone else.
She had to let it go. Let him go.
She needed to think.
Avalon grabbed her notepad off a cardboard box in the passenger seat, skimming the scant notes she’d taken at Xant’s. She tightened her grip on the pen, her hand turning white. It was the same familiar story, told by all the other eight families. Bedwyr had brought them over as part of his Aossi network, helping many leave behind unfortunate situations—they had lost everything in the Second Reformation, were outcasts within their tribe, or found forbidden intertribal love. They had no place on Llenwald. Instead, they carved out a better life on Earth.
And without fail, in every single interview, they had been asked to submit women—
daughters, sisters, and wives—for Miasmis testing. Testing that actually meant experimentation as Bedwyr searched for the Child of the Statue, a bein
g that would give him unlimited access to all five magical elements. Experimentation that would eventually kill all those women.
All but her. Avalon. She and her mom were the only ones that didn’t fit the pattern. Her mother and father were human, had always lived on Earth. After her mother had been diagnosed with Miasmis, her father shifted his career, using his engineering doctorate to help design better lab equipment for Saluzyme.
Or so her father had claimed.
Avalon sighed, drumming her fingers on the box that contained her father’s work notes and equipment. She stared at the list of names she had interviewed, each one of them now crossed off.
She had no more names to investigate.
“Caw! Caw!”
The bird’s cry startled her. Sitting up straight and peering out the windshield, she saw a raven circling overhead. For a second, she held her breath.
“Nobody?”
But no, this bird was normal sized, not the oversized raven that Nobody morphed into. Two other ravens joined him in midair, cawing at each other, until they flew off together in a flurry, disappearing into the dimming evening sky.
There was no denying Nobody would be out there, looking for her. His sister remained trapped somewhere within Avalon’s subconsciousness. The thought had crossed her mind more than once in the last two months that maybe she should reach out to him. Teaming up with Nobody, though, was a bit like playing poker with a conman. He never gave away his hand, and in the end, he’d probably win by cheating. And it would cost you a fortune.
Still, despite all his flaws, Avalon did trust Nobody on some level. Maybe it was his dedication to finding his sister or how he treated some honest people. Somewhere beneath his trickster image, she recognized someone in pain.
Just like her.
Wheels crunched on the pavement. A county police officer pulled up beside her. Being a wanted fugitive in a neighboring state, her spine stiffened as he got out of the car. The officer paid her no mind, though, ambling into the men’s restroom.
Really, at this point, Avalon did not have many options. She had run out of Saluzyme leads. She had no clue where Nobody might be, but she knew who to ask. Trying to appear as nonchalant as possible, she twisted the key in the ignition. She pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the narrow highway, away from the forest, aiming for the semi-arid desert of southern Idaho. At least she’d gotten enough rest that she could drive through the night.
* * *
An hour after dawn the next morning, Avalon drove past the baseball diamond in Hagerman City Park. No one sat in the bleachers, no children played in the grass field beyond. Not even a jogger ran along State Street, the main road cutting the town in half. Only the occasional car zipped past, eager to speed through the unremarkable Idaho town and onto larger areas of civilization.
Avalon wished she remembered the twisting, turning way to Digs’s farm, but since she didn’t, she at least had the address on the salve jar. Given the tininess of the town, her route cut through the only residential neighborhood to where the road became unpaved. Dust flurried around her car as she dead-ended at a golden field of grain.
“Where is this address?” she muttered as she threw the car in reverse. She cruised back around, confused that she couldn’t find anything remotely resembling a place selling herbal remedies. She was about to give up when a decaying wooden sign near a mailbox caught her eye.
“Hagerman Bait ‘N’ Tackle,” it read.
Behind a rotted fence, a rundown little 50s house-turned-store squatted on a small plot of land on the edge of the barley. Although the front seemed old, someone had built a modern addition to the back. A cheap plastic sign suctioned onto the front window declared the shop open.
The address matched the one she’d written down. Bemused, Avalon parked the car.
A bell clattered as Avalon stepped inside. The walls displayed a drooping selection of fishing poles, all of which looked exactly the same. A few dingy shelves held various spools and plastic bags filled with fishing gear, the packaging two decades out of style. A faded cooler had a piece of paper duck taped to it declaring, “Worms! 25 cents.” One lone glass shelf displayed colorful fishing ties, a cash register sitting crooked on top.
“Coming!” a voice boomed from the door behind the counter.
Out came a short, stout man wearing a flannel shirt and overalls. A bushy black beard hung underneath his bulbous nose. He was washing his thick glasses with a handkerchief, so he didn’t recognize her at first. When he did, he flinched.
“Avalon?” Digs’s eyebrows furrowed.
Avalon hadn’t known what to expect. The last time she had seen Digs, she had put his family at risk by drawing Bedwyr’s attention.
A smile broke underneath Digs’s beard. “It’s good to see you, lass!” He scurried from behind the counter to give her a hug.
Obviously, Digs held no hard feelings now, his arms crushing her. Timid at first, Avalon gradually gave him a rough squeeze back.
Digs pulled away. “Nobody insisted you’d come, but I didn’t believe him. Now I owe him $20.”
“Sorry you lost a bet.”
“I’m happy to pay up.” Digs motioned for her to follow. “I’ve got something for you.”
“You do?”
He did not answer, disappearing into the next room.
The front part of the shop may have been anemic, but the spacious back had all the earmarks of a well-run business. Large metal shelves had been stacked into rows, containing labeled glass jars of oils and lotions with crisp price tags. At the far end of the room, flat cardboard boxes and industrial packing tape lay on a table, waiting to fill the next delivery. Many packages sat ready to be shipped, stacked by the back door.
“I’ve seen your inventory all over the West,” she said.
“Oh?” Digs said, leading her away from the packing area down a hallway. He shuffled past six bedrooms, most of them with the doors open. Each room was tiny, just large enough for a bed, a side table and a chair. It was very similar to the room she had slept in at his house. She thought she heard someone coughing behind one closed door.
“I’ve been interviewing former Miasmis patients.” Well, their families anyway. None of the patients had survived.
“And what were you hoping to find?” Digs asked as he descended a set of stairs at the end of the hallway. They creeped into an unfinished basement with duct work and wiring running the length of the ceiling. Thick wooden tables held sturdy vats of foul-smelling stuff. Next to them, empty jars waited to be filled.
She decided not to mention her father. “A way to cure it.”
Digs paused to give her a once over. “Cure Miasmis? You still experiencing symptoms?”
Avalon nodded. “Not as bad as before, just occasional headaches, but the nightmares are getting intense. It’s very similar to what happened when I was first diagnosed. I need to know what to do if it gets worse because this time, I’m on my own.”
Beyond the large open cellar were two finished rooms. Digs passed one with all black painted walls: The Deep room, a place for acute magic healing. Digs led her instead into a cheery little office space with a window at the ground level, letting in a bit of natural light. An oak table held a surprisingly modern desktop computer. Along one wall ran a set of nondescript filing cabinets.
Digs sat on one side of the desk, gesturing Avalon to sit opposite him. “I did treat a lass with Miasmis once. Her parents brought her to me after the seizures began. I knew immediately something was… off.”
“How?”
“When I heal people, I can ‘feel’ the illness. Over decades, I’ve helped Aossi with many ailments—from minor afflictions to incredible injury. I have eased the pain of the terminally ill, been by their side as they left this world for the next. Each affliction has a certain feeling to it, something that can be touched by light magic, even if it can’t be cured. But not Miasmis.” He rubbed his beard. “It was completely untreatable. Nothing I did helped, like it had
a life of its own.”
Avalon stiffened. “Miasmis is an echo of the Jaded Sprite Statue. It wasn’t meant to be forced into people. That’s why it must have felt strange to you.”
“Aye, it makes sense now, but back then, I was completely baffled. I took her into The Deep and she went berserk. It was like she was a completely different person once you delved into her mind.”
Avalon bit her lip. “What happened to her?”
“Her parents never allowed her near me again. They told me that Saluzyme strictly forbade their patients from seeing other healers, even Aossi ones. I heard she died a few months after.”
Avalon remembered how James… no, she stopped herself. Bedwyr. Bedwyr insisted that she never be treated by anyone else. Even in an emergency situation, she should call him first. The Saluzyme offices had such up-to-date medical facilities it didn’t seem sinister at the time. Now it made her insides turn cold.
“Her condition bothered me for many months,” Digs continued. “That’s why I told Nobody about it.”
“You’re the one who tipped Nobody off about Saluzyme?”
“And what a can of nightcrawlers I opened,” he muttered into his whiskers. “Bedwyr brought people over from Llenwald. He was infamous for it, the healer who could take you to a new world to start over again.”
“Nobody could too,” Avalon pointed out. “He brought you over.”
“But Nobody didn’t advertise that,” Digs said. “Most people who own a piece of the statue keep mum on the subject. The Guardians supposedly destroyed the statue, and it’s the only way to get here. It is punishable by death to use its power, even if you find the supposedly non-existent statue fragments.”
“Why didn’t Bedwyr care about flaunting it?”
Digs guffawed. “Bedwyr lives in a moving fortress, outside the rule of any of the Aossi kingdoms. He pushes a pro-Aossi propaganda to garner support. Some people fall heavy for it, joining his army, gathering resources for him. But other Aossi yearn for a simple life, away from humans and the inflexibility of tradition. Bedwyr appealed to them too.”