Odder- The Blood Curse

by Nathaniel Red

  “Excuse me?” Odder questioned, with aggravation.

  “You elves, with so much misery and desolation in the land, have these lavish, wasteful feasts, parading their maidens around in absurd costumes.”

  “I don’t believe celebrating is wasteful,” Odder said. “And each Princess is wearing a costume representing the magic essence of their House.”

  Who invited this guest? He thought. But she sounds familiar. Wait, no…

  He glanced at her piercing, light blue eyes again through her sparkling red mask.

  “Serra?”

  “Hello again, Oddy.” She smirked.

  “I didn’t recognize you.”

  “Is it the costume?”

  “And the red hair.” Odder pointed out.

  “Do you like it?” she asked, shaking her head to allow her hair to flow on her face. “I thought it matched my shoes.”

  Odder blushed. “Yes… But how did you get in?”

  “Let’s just say I’m good at whispering.”

  He tilted his head. What is she talking about?

  Serra grinned. “Oddy, you really are clueless.”

  “Whispering?” Odder asked, still bemused.

  “Mind whispering,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “It’s a spell.”

  She focused on a servant across the room and mumbled words foreign to Odder.

  The servant approached and handed her a chalice before walking off without a word.

  She leaned in and spoke softly to Odder. “See? Mind whispering. I can plant my own thoughts into the minds of the weak-minded and have them do my bidding.”

  “Oh,” Odder said, raising his eyebrow.

  She turned back toward the dance floor. “Look at your master, dancing around in a cloud of his own smug sense of self-worth, and those lassies, falling for his arrogance. They wear thousands of precious jewels, flaunting their exotic fabrics, every move is proper, yet they live as slaves.”

  “Slaves to what?” Odder countered. “They’re royalty.”

  “Slaves to their power and greed.”

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t sound like you want to be here.”

  She fixated on the Prince. “Oh, I do. Very much so.”

  The song ended, and Destin, Britt, and Aimma returned to the table.

  Destin pushed Odder aside and took Serra’s hand. “You are quite stunning. Have we met?”

  She tipped her head and grinned. “Our paths might have crossed.”

  “You do look familiar, but I’m sure I would remember such beauty.”

  “Perhaps we can discuss my beauty over the next dance, my lord.”

  “Perhaps the Prince would prefer a drink instead,” interrupted Odder.

  “I believe the Prince has more on his mind than wine,” said Britt with a mischievous grin.

  Aimma pulled on Britt’s arm and gave him a warning look.

  “What?” Britt asked, his expression blank.

  “Yes, two drinks, Odder,” said the Prince. “One for me and one for the beautiful . . .”

  “Catina,” said Serra.

  Catina? What is she up to? Odder thought.

  “What a lovely name,” said the Prince.

  “My lord you seem a bit…” She ran her finger up his chest and under his chin. “… hot from your dance. Would you care to take a breath for a moment on the balcony?”

  “Sounds like a spectacular idea.” Destin grabbed the two drinks from Odder without so much as a nod of thanks and headed toward the west balcony with Serra at his elbow.

  “Aimma can I speak with you for a moment,” Odder whispered. “Alone?”

  Britt sneered and seemed ready to step in front of Aimma when she raised her hand and stood.

  “Now Britt.” She smiled. “Please excuse me.”

  Britt stepped aside though not without a frown.

  Odder pulled her away from the table nearly giving her whiplash.

  “What’s so important?” she demanded.

  “She’s here.”

  “Who?”

  “The lassie in red.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “She looks proper to me.”

  “She’s Serra.”

  “The dark elf? What – how did she get in here?”

  “I don’t know, but she’s very interested in the Prince.”

  “Well everyone can see that.” She turned back toward the spirits table. “I’ll get Britt.” She stopped, mouth hanging open. “Except he’s dancing with that frigid Princess from Gelusador.”

  Odder cringed. “Forget him. We have to let the Prince know.”

  “Should we tell the guards?”

  “No, that would embarrass him. You know how arrogant he is.”

  “We just can’t go barging out there,” she said. “We need a reason and a plan.”

  Odder tapped the side of his head. “Wine. We will bring him wine.”

  “He does seem to love his liquor, doesn’t he?” she said with her brow raised.

  Odder and Aimma attempted to evade the dancing guests as they headed toward the balcony.

  “We’ll have to cross in front of the King,” Odder whispered, lowering his gaze to avoid eye contact.

  As they approached the royal table, a heated dispute arose between King Gralon and King Kesis of Skyger.

  “You will give me answers, or I will hold back the silq!” Kesis huffed then stood and walked out of the room with his retainers hurrying to keep up.

  The music stopped, and the crowd went silent. Odder caught Aimma’s wrist and pulled her out of the king’s line of sight.

  King Gralon stood and held out a hand. “Just a minor dispute between Kings.” He waved to the harps. “Play on.”

  The music started, and the guests went back to their festivities.

  Odder whispered in Aimma’s ear, “Do you think the argument was about Edan?”

  Aimma nodded.

  They continued in silence until they reached the balcony.

  “More wine?” he asked as he pushed open the doors and entered the balcony. Aimma dropped her chalice.

  “My lord!” Odder exclaimed in horror.

  The clear pitch sky allowed for the dull blue light of Ophelia to shine on Elestus, revealing the shimmering silhouette of the Prince and maiden.

  “Thiss, doess not, concerrrn, you…” Serra hissed as she tried to escape the Prince’s grip.

  He stood over her, one hand tight around her neck, the other holding her wrist to keep back her arm.

  “Stay out of this Odder,” Destin said, his words ripping the air like daggers.

  He pushed her against the balcony wall. A metal stiletto fell to the ground and rolled to Aimma’s feet. Serra head-butted the Prince and flung her elbow into his face, freeing herself but only causing him to stumble back a few steps.

  “Aimma, get the guards!” Odder cried.

  “No!” said the Prince. He regained his footing. “This is between me and the witch.”

  “But master.”

  Aimma picked up the stiletto and tucked it under her dress. She pulled Odder back toward the door.

  Destin and Serra continued to battle – though their movements looked more like a board game of skill rather than war. Each trying to outmaneuver each other. She struggled, breaking free from the prince several times, but never for long. He lifted her above the wall overlooking the courtyard by her throat, her feet dangling in midair. Both of her hands gripped his wrist, her nails tearing into his skin.

  “Farewell witch,” he said, then let go.

  “No!” screamed Odder. He ran to the edge grasping the air. She fell as if time slowed to a snail’s pace. Black smoke drifted around her red dress. He expected to see her panicked face but instead witnessed her serene expression. She opened one eye and winked before vanishing into the smoke, which then disappeared into the darkness.

  Aimma pulled Odder away from the edge. A painful lump formed in his throat, and he stared at his feet.

  “She’s gone,”
Aimma said.

  “Of course she is,” Destin snarled. “That witch will no longer be a nuisance.” He waved a hand over his wounds and healed his injuries.

  Odder stood motionless.

  “I’ll get the guards,” Aimma said, making her way toward the door.

  “No,” Destin grabbed her arm. “I’ll have Britt retrieve her body. I do not need any added attention and security. Nothing must interfere with tomorrow’s games. Is that understood?”

  With reluctance, Odder and Aimma nodded.

  The doors burst open.

  “There you all are.” Britt stumbled in swinging a bottle of wine.

  “Ah, my companion wizard. Your timing is perfect,” said the Prince. “I hope it’s just as good on the field tomorrow.” He laughed and wrapped his arm around Britt. “Let’s leave these two lovebirds. I have a cold-blooded maiden to introduce you to.”

  Britt gave Aimma an arrogant wave as Destin escorted him back inside.

  Aimma scowled. “Charlatan, I thought he didn’t drink.”

  Odder collapsed to the ground. “I watched her fall.” He rubbed his eyes, then ran his fingers through his hair. “Why did the Prince attack her?”

  Aimma sat next to him. “It did seem odd. Perhaps the only choice the Prince had was to send her to her death.”

  “Death?” Odder remembered Serra’s wink as she fell. “No, I have a feeling she’ll be back.”

  She frowned and pulled the hidden stiletto from her dress. “Look at this Odder.” He did not respond. “This is a stiletto used by assassins.”

  When he refused to look at it, she nudged it into his hands. “She’s not innocent.”

  He clutched the weapon. “Is that what she wanted to do? Assassinate the Prince?”

  Aimma sat beside him. “It makes sense.”

  Odder ran his fingers along the cold metal while gathering his thoughts. “That’s why she wanted me to get her into the masquerade ball.”

  “She’s a dark elf. They are a selfish and miserable race, never to be trusted,” Aimma said, with conviction.

  “I ran into Drugan, another dark elf. Do you think he had anything to do with this?” Odder asked. Doubt and confusion festering inside him. “And what about the High Wizard Edan?”

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions. He is one of the most trusted servants of the King.” Aimma stood and encouraged Odder to do so as well. She grabbed the stiletto and hid it once more. “Let’s go inside. I’ll chat with the head steward and have you excused. We can talk more about it in a less public area.”

  As Aimma escorted him out, he stared one last time at the guests. A hollowness filled his chest, his senses became dull to the music and laughter, and he watched the Prince dance, flirt, and carry on as if nothing happened.

  “Odder,” Aimma said, snapping him out of his trance. “Let’s go.”

  Each step echoed in the silence as they walked to his room. She stopped at his door, her eyes somber. “Do you want to talk?”

  “I don’t think I can right now.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

  She frowned but nodded in agreement. “Sure. I’ll let the gatekeeper know I’ll be back in the morning.”

  He glanced away. “I’ll feel better after some sleep.”

  Aimma stepped back. “Good night then.”

  “Sure,” Odder said, closing the door.

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAMPION’S QUEST

  Splashes of light entered through Odder’s window, teasing him awake. He turned, shielding his eyes with his arm. “Kellas, shine your rays somewhere else,” he mumbled into his blanket.

  A sudden ping hit Odder on his head. He turned back toward the window trying to break his mind free from its foggy slumber.

  Another ping on his forehead and his eyes sprung open. “What the…”

  He sat up, and hundreds of tiny pebbles rolled from his neck and chest down to the bed. Confused, he surveyed the pile around him. A pebble flew in through the window and made a right turn toward Odder’s head. He slapped it to the floor and jumped to the window.

  “Finkle! I should have known.”

  The gnome stood between several bushes on the other side of the castle moat.

  “About time, laddy,” he called. “I’ve been throwing stones through your window for hours.”

  “Why didn’t you just call my name?”

  “And make a scene?” asked Finkle with a smirk.

  “Right,” Odder said, rolling his eyes.

  “I’m avoiding trouble today.” Finkle said. “I don’t wanna miss the games.”

  “The Champion’s Quest,” Odder recalled. “Today.”

  “Indeed, laddy. You can thank me for waking you.” Finkle threw some rocks up and made them dance in the air. “How ya feeling? Momma Tonk told me about the exorcism.”

  Odder leaned out the window, squinting. He glimpsed at the unremitting Eye of Adeit. “The Eye’s still there, and so’s my curse. I still have a little pain, but I’m much better. A crazy thing happened last night, though.”

  Finkle perked up and moved closer. “You have the best stories. Do tell.”

  “This isn’t the place, but if you’re coming with me to the games, I’ll tell you about it.”

  “Sure. I’ve got some business to take care of, but I’ll meet you there.”

  “I’ll save you a seat after I meet the Prince.”

  “Very kind of you.” Finkle flicked the pebbles at Odder. “See you.”

  Odder ducked, but the pebbles showered on top of him anyway. He stood and shook his fist as Finkle ran off laughing and holding his fez.

  Crazy gnome.

  Odder sat on the edge of his bed. His unsettled sleep left him exhausted.

  Was Serra really trying to kill the Prince, and why didn’t the Prince report the attack?

  He wrestled with these questioned until finally concluding the Prince’s actions must be justified, even if he didn’t understand them. Feeling somewhat satisfied and clear-headed, he returned his attention to the quest. He hurried to his small wardrobe and picked out his cleanest tunic and pants. He reached for his hairbrush.

  Big day for my master. He paused. For me too, if the oracle’s right.

  He slipped on his boots and ran out the door to the servant’s washroom. After a quick release in the loo, he stood with several other servants in front of the mirror, primping themselves.

  “Is your bet on Prince Destin?” asked Abbott, a younger servant.

  “Of course.” Odder pointed his brush at Abbott. “Today’s the day my master becomes the Champion and guardian of the portal.”

  The other servants in the room joined in the conversation. “The House of Elestus will annihilate the other Houses,” said one servant.

  “The Prince will embarrass the other wizards,” said another.

  Odder grinned and backed out of the room.

  A guard stepped from around the corner. “Odder?”

  “Yes.”

  “Prince Destin asked me to deliver a message.” He handed him a small parchment.

  Strange, he didn’t air-script me.

  “Thank you.” Odder unfolded the note.

  “Odder, forego your duties this morning. I need you to pick up a package from the Hammered Hog. Ask the barkeeper for Cetus, then bring the package to me before the games.”

  He folded the parchment, tucked it into his belt, and headed back to his room where he spotted Aimma leaning against his door.

  “How are you doing today, Odder?”

  “Better, I think.” He opened the door and directed her inside. “My body doesn’t ache but…” He rubbed his hands through his hair. “Did that fight last night really happen?”

  “It did.”

  “I convinced myself the Prince did what he had to.” He paused. “Should I confront him?”

  “No, that’s an awful idea,” Aimma answered. “If you distract him from the games, he’ll have your head.”

  He c
leared his throat. “Yes, you’re probably right. Best to wait.”

  Aimma held her index finger up to her mouth then pointed it at Odder. “Since you believe Serra’s still alive, do you think she will try again at the games?” she asked.

  “Not a chance. Too many eyes and guards in the arena. She would have to fight her way through a small army, but I suspect I’ll see her again.”

  He reached for his small leather satchel and slipped the prank spells inside. He pulled his sleeve back and stared at his markings.

  “Today’s the day, according to the Divine Oracle,”

  Aimma grinned. “I’m excited for you.”

  Odder returned the smile but his insides ached from the uncertainty of the Oracle’s words. “So, you’ve never gone to the games. Would you like to go with me?”

  “Would I? Of course.”

  “Great, I have to make a quick stop at the Hammered Hog.”

  Aimma wrinkled her nose. “Oh, that place. I hear it’s foul. Why are we stopping there?”

  “The drinks are good, the food deadly.” He made a slicing motion across his neck. “And the patrons – let’s just say, not Elestus’s finest citizens. I need to pick something up, but I’ll be quick.”

  ***

  Aimma stared at the dark outline of a pig taking a swig from a bottle on a sign mounted above the tavern doors. “Well, it makes perfect sense to have this haven of depravity so close to the market.”

  “I’ll need you to wait outside,” Odder said.

  Aimma glared. “No way.”

  “You’re not even supposed to know I’m picking anything up.”

  “I’m assigned to you.”

  Odder huffed. “Suit yourself but don’t say anything.” He pushed open the doors and walked in with Aimma close behind.

  The wooden floors creaked as Odder stepped into the poorly lit room. The decor was basic; several wooden tables and chairs, a bar in the back, stairs leading up to the second level, and a side room which held idle musical instruments.

  Odder spotted the barkeeper wearing a white tunic and rounded bulky brown hat, cleaning the cups next to the kegs behind the bar. “I think that’s who I need to talk to.”