“What’s the room above?” Odder asked.
“It’s labeled ‘squat.’”
Odder pulled at his hair as he tried to fight off the uncertainty.
“This idea is foolish,” his inner voiced said.
“No,” Odder answered. “It’s too messy and too risky.”
“It may be our only option,” Aimma said.
“It’s not.” He paused, hoping to be convincing. “I have another.”
Aimma frowned and closed the book. The floor plan vanished in a shower of light. She crossed her arms and considered him with a raised eyebrow.
“You shouldn’t live in fear, Odder,” she said. “And I hope you have more sense than to consider that fortuneteller as your other option. We are talking about your life.”
“I’ll go with the easiest and safest choice,” he said, turning to exit. “Or nothing at all.”
“Where are you going?”
“This is too much for me to decide right now.” He paused at the door. The realization that his flame of hope to wield magic, and maybe his life, may now come to a dismal end, settled into his brain. He muttered toward the ground. “Besides, I have to meet my master soon.”
“Well, you’re not leaving without me.” Aimma followed him out, the wooden doors slamming shut behind them.
Odder took several steps before a foreboding chill forced him to stop. “Does something feel eerie to you out here?”
The wind whistled over the cobblestones and dust swirled at their feet.
“Without a doubt,” she agreed, stepping closer to him with a worried frown. “Where are all the townsfolk?”
CHAPTER 5
A MEETING WITH THE DEKAN
A wailing, soulless wind flew through the streets. Odder’s eyes flickered back and forth as they walked, observing the closed doors and shutters. A chill traveled up his spine. He’d seen these roads and homes a thousand times – but never empty. Through his fear, a conflicting feeling of astonishment surfaced as he allowed himself a moment to marvel at the elven workmanship.
A loud horn echoed. Aimma gripped Odder’s arm. They caught sight of several elves scattering between buildings.
“It’s an alarm.” Odder realized.
“Are we under attack?” Aimma tightened her grip on his arm.
“Not sure,” he admitted. “But we should find a place to hide.”
They ran to several doors, but no one answered.
“What do we do?” Aimma asked.
Odder spotted a fleeing elf running into an alley.
He pointed. “We follow him.”
They ran into the alley but only saw a battered shed with a missing wall, and several stacked crates.
“We can hide behind those crates,” Odder said.
The two sat side by side, backs against the wall and tucked behind what appeared to be fish crates.
“This stinks!” Aimma said, holding her nose.
“Our other option is the shed, but I’m afraid it’ll crash down on us.”
Aimma conceded and conjured a spell. The pleasant fragrance of prairie flowers filled the air. “Ah. Much better.”
“Yes, not at all out of place,” said Odder, with a hint of sarcasm.
Aimma ignored his remark and changed the subject. “Has this happened before?”
“The alarms? Not that I’ve ever experienced.” Odder placed his finger over his lips. “I’m going to take a quick look.” He peeked over the crates and surveyed the area. The streets remained empty besides the occasional elf skirting around for cover. The sound of tinkling bells directed his attention to the sky.
“What do you see?” Aimma whispered.
“Sparkling streaks of different colored lights above the township.” He squinted, pleased with his keen vision, and followed the lights with his eyes. “I think they’re fairies. Maybe searching for something.”
A sudden crash, like twenty metal cans clanging to the cobblestones at once, sounded from the back of the alleyway. Aimma pulled at Odder’s cloak, making him fall flat on his rear end. They held their breath, waiting for whatever made the noise to pass. The rat-faced merchant from the market fell into them.
Odder screeched, but Aimma jumped to cover his mouth. “Shh!”
“Sorry,” whispered the merchant. “I needed a place to hide.”
Aimma narrowed her eyes. “Go hide somewhere else.”
Odder tugged at her arm. “It’s alright.”
She crossed her arms and glared at the merchant. “Can you tell us what’s going on?”
The horn sounded once again, and the merchant covered his ears. “Are you death? That’s the sixth time the horn has gone off.”
“We were indoors,” Aimma said.
The merchant wrinkled his nose and bared his teeth as he explained. “The first time, everyone stood in confusion. The second time, guards ransacked the market, and then everyone scattered.” A bead of sweat fell from the tip of his pointy nose, and he lowered his voice. “I overheard a sentry saying a goblin infiltrated the castle defenses.”
Odder’s and Aimma’s jaws dropped.
“A goblin?” they said at once.
“Here? How can such a foul creature be inside the township?” Odder asked, “and what kind of goblin?”
“The sentry said it resembled a dekan goblin.” The merchant gnawed on his filthy fingernails. “The most cunning of the species. Once word got out, everyone cleared the streets.”
“These fish crates aren’t the safest refuge,” Aimma said.
Odder nodded his agreement.
“We should go back to the archive.” She stood and peeked over the crates. “Odd.”
“What is it?”
“That looks like the Prince.”
“In the streets?” Odder stood, joining Aimma. “Where?”
“He just entered that shop – the magicsmith.”
“You two need to pipe down,” hissed the merchant.
“And who’s following him?” Aimma asked, ignoring the comment.
Odder’s eyebrows shot skyward as he recognized her clothing. It’s Serra. He tapped his fingers on the crate. “Why is she following him?”
Serra ducked between crates and barrels then dashed along the walls of the buildings until she reached the doors of the magicsmith’s shop and made a quick glance into the street before entering.
“Here behind the crates – something is hiding!” A voice shouted.
Odder and Aimma ducked.
“I told you to keep quiet!” squealed the merchant.
“Out now!” A guard pulled Odder into the street by his collar, looked at his face, and flung him to the side. “Bring me the other.”
Another guard grabbed Aimma and escorted her to stand beside Odder. “Sit here.”
The merchant sprung to his feet and sprinted down the alley. The steadfast guard reached into his satchel and pulled out a glowing rope. He turned and threw it at the fleeing merchant with effortless aim. With a deliberate conscious, the rope wrapped around the runner’s trunk like a cocoon, causing him to fall to the rough, damp ground.
“No one here is a goblin,” Odder protested, climbing to his feet. A guard swung a whip around his boots and pulled. He fell flat next to Aimma. It took him a moment to draw in a deep breath and realize what happened.
“Stop!” Shouted the captain to the guard. He glared at Odder and the healer. “Are you two with him?”
Odder and Aimma shook their heads.
“No, we hid behind the crates, and he jumped in with us,” said Aimma.
The captain stared long and hard at the two. Odder‘s face flushed. “We are wasting our time with these two.” He motioned for his guards to withdraw. “Question the grown one.”
A guard lifted them to their feet. “I suggest you find a better place to seek cover.”
“Ye… yes sir,” said Odder. He pulled at Aimma’s arm. “Let’s head back to the Archives. We’ll be safe there.”
“Probably,” she whisp
ered into his ear, only moving a few steps. “But don’t you want to check out the magicsmith’s shop?”
Like many other times in his life, Odder’s fear revealed itself, manifesting dark seeds of anxiety which grew into tangling vines of dread. His face went pale like a wilted snow iris.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Your master ran in there followed by a suspicious elf. Don’t you want to know what’s going on?”
“No, not really. It’s too dangerous.”
She sighed. Her words exasperated. “The best way to defeat fear is to confront it.”
He hunched his shoulders and turned away. “It’s not fear, its survival – and it’s something I’m good at.”
Her eyes hardened, and she shrugged in surrender. “Maybe you’re right.” She turned without another word and walked toward the archives.
Odder knew what she was trying to do but his stomach twisted already regretting what he was about to say. “Wait.” He reached for her but missed. “No, you’re right. We should investigate, and after all, I am supposed to meet my master.”
Aimma paused mid-step and puffed-up her shoulders, turning back as if it meant nothing to her, though he didn’t miss the subtle smirk that had found its way to her lips.
***
They waited for the guards to leave and focused on their destination. Standing in front of the shop’s doors, Odder admired the artistry. Bluish metal bars crisscrossed between the frames while smoke-colored crystals filled the gaps. A sign hung above the door:
The Mushroom Magicsmith’s Shop of Dangerous Delights
Why wait 500 years? We do it in 250.
He placed his hood over his head and entered with Aimma at his heels. They peered through a strange, turquoise lit filled room. Seven wizardsmiths stood motionless. Their cloaks and boots frozen in odd positions as if the wizards and all their attire had come to a sudden stop. Aimma jumped ahead.
“Wait for me,” Odder shouted. She stopped. “Where do you think this strange light is coming from?”
Aimma remained peculiarly silent.
“Aimma?”
He pulled her around - a petrified, unearthly grin plastered on her unmoving face stared back at him. He glanced at the others, realizing they possessed the same, quiescent expression – except with their arms stretched as if reaching for something of great value.
Odder shivered and released Aimma as if burned by her.
What the…?
He stepped in front of the statuesque wizards. His eyes bulged like a thief staring at a decanter of silq.
“Oh, that’s beautiful.”
The pulsing blue light captivated him.
“Mesmerizing,” he murmured.
A glowing cobalt egg, about the size of a melon, rested on a table. He reached for the egg but met an invisible resistance. He pushed harder, but his hand and arm shook the closer his fingers came.
I must possess it!
Oblivious to his surroundings, his collar tightened, and his body yanked backward.
“What are you doing here?” Serra dragged him to the backroom and closed the door –breaking whatever spell had so enthralled him. “Are you insane?”
Odder rubbed his temples. “I don’t know what happened.” He shook his head clear. “The egg… its beauty drew me in.”
“Of course, you boorhead,” she said. “It’s supposed to. It’s a rare egg from a widow spider. Like the spider itself, the egg lays out a magic web to seduce its prey. The blue light draws the victim close then freezes the body until the egg is ready to hatch – and then feeds.”
“Yuck.”
“Xenduri are immune.” She raised an eyebrow. “Strange… You resisted its snare.”
Odder ignored her words as images of the frozen wizards in the other room flashed across his mind. “Serra, you can’t let the spider devour Aimma and the innocent wizards!”
“Don’t worry; the egg won’t hatch for another several days.”
Odder took a deep breath of relief but immediately gagged. “What is that horrible stench? It’s like a musky bog rat thrown into a vat of acid.”
“Yes, about that, I have someone I want you to meet.” She pointed to a dark cloaked figure sitting at a table in the corner of the room. She kicked the table, causing it to lean forward. A bludgeoned, lifeless goblin flopped onto the tabletop.
“Hello Odder, meet the dead goblin. Here is your source of this disgusting odor,” Serra said with satisfaction.
Odder stopped breathing. His legs trembled and gave way. He found himself scuffling back until he hit the door.
Reaching for a chair, he flung it toward Serra.
“What did you do?” he cried.
“Oh stop being such a fairy,” Serra said, blocking the chair with a kick. “I found him this way.”
“He’s a goblin – a killer of elves! What’s he doing here?”
Serra stepped toward Odder. “My guess is he was making a bad deal, and someone wanted him dead.” She offered a hand to help him up.
He stared at her palm and observed tattoos stirring beneath her sleeve. He dropped his eyes and gripped her hand, accepting her help. He released her hand once back on his feet and with uncertainty, approached the table to get a better look at the body.
The goblin wore a midnight purple hood that came to a long point behind his head. The rest of the material wrapped around his neck and laid over his shoulders, allowing his sharp, bat-like ears to protrude. Ragged strips draped his face and hid his olive-green skin. One piercing yellow eye remained open while the other was swollen shut. Odder cringed at the site of the goblin’s long, scaly nose and jutting teeth.
“So, this is a Dekan goblin?” he asked, peering into its eye, fearing it might blink and return to life at any moment.
“Yes,” Serra searched under the table and around the corpse. “Shrewd and devious. Fewer in numbers than the other goblin races, but deadly assassins.”
Odder recalled his master explaining the different species of goblins to him on one of their walks. The Skags were smaller, low intelligence, and foot soldiers. The Guriquars were large, obese, and considered the ruling class. The Dekans most resembled the elves, highly intelligent, and cunning.
Odder tore his eyes away to look at Serra. “If you didn’t kill him, do you think Prince Destin did?”
“Oh.” Serra grit her teeth. “You saw me follow him into the shop.”
Odder nodded.
“I don’t know if this is his work, but I followed him because I have some unfinished business with your dear Prince.”
He squinted, wrinkling his brow. “What do you mean?”
“The story is longer than I have time to tell. The guards will be arriving soon.” She opened the door to peek into the other room. “We have to escape through the back door.”
“What about Aimma and the others?”
Serra snarled and threw back her cloak revealing a dozen foot-long, silver rods holstered to her leg. She opened the door and whipped a stiletto at the egg, the metal flashing through the air. The egg burst and green fluid exploded against the wall. Thousands of small, black, hairy spider legs fell to the ground and table. Once the light dissipated, the elves dropped to the ground.
Serra’s eyes met Odder’s shocked expression. “Silq tipped stilettos. They do lethal damage.” She closed the door. “Now let’s go.”
Odder stood still, paralyzed from the sight of the spiders’ innards dripping down the wall, coating the once-frozen elves who were just starting to twitch back into normal movement.
Serra looked over her shoulder. “Oh, the spider legs. Nasty creatures. The babies have a couple dozen legs and the mother, just hope you never run into her, has over eighty legs covering her body. Now…” She pointed her thumb toward the back door.
“Yes, nasty.” He cringed. “Aimma and the wizards… are they dead?” Odder asked.
“No, they’ll be fine. The egg’s magic stunned their bodies and erased their recent memories. It
’s a natural defense in case one of the trapped victims breaks free from the spell.” She grabbed Odder and pulled him toward the door. “Let’s go.”
“Stay,” his inner voice screamed.
He shook his head and tried to pull away. “You’re a Xenduri, and I know nothing about you. Why should I go with you?”
Her face flushed and her voice became rigid like the ice glaciers of Gelusador, “No telling what the guards will do if they find you here with a dead goblin.” She tightened her grip, and his arm pinched and throbbed. “We don’t have time for your stalling.”
Odder yanked his arm free and scowled. “No.”
She looked to the ground and pounded her forehead with a closed fist. “I swear on the frost giants of Adeldus. You are the most stubborn –”
Sudden shouts echoed from the streets. “In here! The goblin is in the shop!”
“Don’t be stupid,” she snapped. “We have to go now, Odder.”
A crash came from the front room as the guards burst inside.
Odder’s stomach knotted. “You better go.”
Serra sighed and lifted her hands, releasing a blue beam of magic that blasted the back door apart. Splinters flew out into the alley. She stopped at the opening and turned back.
“We still have a deal, Odder. Get me into the masquerade, and I’ll take you to the potion master.” She winked and disappeared in a cloud of smoke.
The door exploded, sending debris careening into the room. Odder threw up his arms to shield his face, but the fragments stopped midair and flew at once back into the shop. A gray, gourd-sized creature drifted in past the broken door. Six leathery appendages protruded from its body with eyes at the end of each limb. The eyes lifted, probing the area, capturing every detail. Odder backed into the corner. It occurred to him Serra was right about one thing – he had no good excuse for being in the back room of the magicsmith’s, alone with a dead goblin.
The creature let out a high-pitched screech and spun toward him, revealing a gigantic eye in the center of its body. The other six eyes spun to fixate on him as well. Odder gasped, breaking the silence. The creature charged at him but stopped just short of striking his face.
Odder- The Blood Curse Page 6