Cursed

by Casey Odell

  “If you stare at me any longer you will make me blush.” He grinned from ear to ear.

  She snapped back to the present and blushed herself. They had reached the bottom of the valley and now trekked through the tall grass that covered the fields. Lendon’s stone walls loomed in the distance.

  “How about traveling musicians?” She brought the subject up again. Musicians would often come to play in Mother’s tavern. The atmosphere became lively, full of people singing and dancing, forgetting about their troubles for a night.

  “I like it!” Aeron brightened.

  “Can either of you sing or play instruments?” Farron slowed his pace and waited for them.

  “No,” she said. She didn’t have a musical bone in her body. The idea just seemed fun. “Can you?”

  “No.”

  “So there is something you are not good at!” Aeron seemed a little too excited at the revelation.

  Farron ignored his outburst. “We need something a little more plausible.”

  “How about I am a prince, traveling with my servant and mistress?” Aeron wriggled his eyebrows at Claire.

  She rolled her eyes.

  “I said plausible, not idiotic.” Farron crossed his arms.

  “Well then, what is your idea, my liege?”

  “Diplomats traveling with their human attendant.”

  “Like that is believable!” Aeron started to laugh. “You, a diplomat!”

  “Why not?”

  “You are likely to cause more wars than stop them.”

  “Wait a minute!” Claire interrupted their little dispute. She stopped and put her hands on her hips. “Why am I always the servant?”

  The two elves looked back at her in unison.

  “I will be Lady Claire DuBonte from the north, traveling with her two Elvin servants.” She held her chin high and motioned in the air with her hand before laying it lightly on her chest.

  “So now we are the servants?” Aeron asked. “There is only one type of servant I would be.”

  “Guards then,” she corrected, quickly. “The best that money could buy.”

  Farron nodded. “It’s fairly believable.”

  “Fine, then it is settled.” Aeron brightened again. He seemed to like the prospect of a double life. “I will protect my lady with all my might and wisdom.” He offered her his arm and she took it.

  “Now I just need to figure out how to act like a lady.”

  “That is easy,” Aeron said, “just hold your head up high and act like you are better than everyone else.”

  “You have those too, huh?” All too well, she knew how most of Stockton viewed her and her mother, but however much she despised those kinds of people, she always dreamed of being one. Their lavish dresses and parties, to be waited on and be someone important; all of it just seemed so far out of reach. This charade may be the closest she could get to that dream.

  The dirt road that led into Lendon stretched far into the distance to wind its way up through a pass, a chip in the impenetrable vastness of the mountains. A few wagons pulled by oxen made their way slowly towards the town; most likely farmers or traders coming to sell their wares.

  Claire stepped onto the path and brushed the hitchhikers off her pants. She looked up in amazement at the great stone walls, weathered grey with age. Huge, thick oaken doors swung inward to reveal a bustling market just inside.

  She gripped Aeron’s arm tightly as they approached the immense gate. Her heart beat faster with anticipation, nervous and excited all at once. Aeron patted her hand in a reassuring gesture.

  Guards stood at the gate, one on each side, dressed head to foot in gleaming metal plate armor. Their interest piqued as the trio entered. The two elves kept walking, ignoring their stares, and the guards remained in their positions. She thought for sure they’d be stopped.

  The market bustled with activity. Crowds surrounded brightly colored booths as the owners shouted out their wares for sale. A few people stopped to stare at the elves. They tried to hide their whispers and pointed fingers, but Aeron stood tall with an amused expression. He looked like he enjoyed all of the extra attention.

  Claire gazed up at the two-storied buildings, wood and brick, not too different than the ones in her hometown. Plain and simple, just like the people. The women wore dresses in muted colors, the men dressed in pants and shirts of the same nature. She was a little underwhelmed-- she had hoped for something a little more-- exotic. She glanced down the street. A great palace stood atop a hill, gleaming bright like fresh white linens in the sun. A huge domed roof sprouted up in the middle of the long flat building. Tall spires stood at each end, topped with roofs that curved to a point. It was magnificent, but seemed a little out of place in the surrounding town.

  “Ladies do not gawk,” Aeron murmured to her.

  “Oh, sorry,” she whispered. She had almost forgotten her new identity. She put on an air of importance that she had seen so many ladies do before.

  Aeron chuckled at her attempt.

  They wound their way through the throngs of people further down the main road. Farron stopped in a little area between shop stalls.

  “I’ll go find a room for the night.” He scanned the street. “You can start asking around about survivors and see the sights. Just try not to raise too much suspicion.” He looked at Aeron.

  “Yes, my lord.” Aeron bowed to the other elf.

  Farron disappeared without another word.

  “Wait, how are we supposed to find him?” She’d already lost the elf in the mass, which she’d assumed would be next to impossible to do.

  “Just follow the trail of crying women.” Aeron offered his arm once again. “Shall we?”

  They strolled along the market and stopped at a few booths to examine their wares and admire jewelry and trinkets she could never afford. Aeron quietly obliged as she looked, soaking up all of the extra attention he was drawing. She knew she should ask about the refugees, but she didn’t know where to start. Each stop she made was a procrastination. She didn’t see any familiar faces, no signs of displaced people. Everyone just bustled about with their everyday lives. Did they even know what had happened to Stockton?

  She looked around the teeming market. A solitary man leaned against a wall between booths. That could be a good start. Aeron followed close behind her as she made her way across the street.

  “Excuse me.” Her voice was unsure but polite.

  The scruff man looked up at her. A pipe dangled from his mouth and his plain clothes hung loose on his scraggily frame, skin tanned to a leathery brown.

  “Yeah.” His voice was hoarse and had a twinge of an unfamiliar accent. He looked her up and down with a suspicious glare in his brown eyes.

  “I was wondering if you knew anything about any refugees in this town or anywhere.” She decided to keep it short and to the point.

  “Nope, little lady, I sure don’t. Just got here from the south myself. Mayhaps you try some of the townsfolk here.” He gestured to the street behind her with a sweep of his hand.

  “Thanks.” She turned and looked at Aeron.

  “The first of many,” he said with a reassuring smile.

  The elf followed close behind her as she asked various people in the market. Some answered politely, others refused to talk, a few were offended she even approached them. The only thing any of the responses had in common was the fact that no one knew anything about any refugees. The few that asked why she was looking seemed surprised to hear that Stockton had been attacked at all and said that they had never heard anything.

  “It’s strange,” she said as she collapsed onto a bench in a central square. The road circled around a small patch of gardened land in a roundabout with streets that stretched off in all directions. Horses clopped noisily on the cobblestone as they pulled carriages along, some elegant, some simple.

  “Indeed it is.” Aeron sat next to her.

  “It’s like the whole thing never even happened. You’d think that at least s
ome survivors would have made it here.” She gazed out at the busy road, her eyes seeing everything and nothing. “Or at least some news. Anything.”

  “Did your town have good relations with this one?”

  “I think so. No, I’m sure of it. We used to get travelers all the time in the tavern, many of them were traders from here.” Her shoulders slumped and she rested her elbows on her knees.

  “Well, why don’t we continue this tomorrow in another part of town?” He rose to his feet in front of her. “We will get some rest, have a nice warm bath, and start fresh. What do you say?”

  “Do I have to bathe with you?”

  Aeron laughed. “You catch on fast, my lady.”

  She rose to her feet. The disappointment of the day weighed heavy in her heart. “Lead the way, my gallant knight.” She took his offered arm and they plunged into the chaos once more.

  He led her down a narrow side street off the busy roundabout. The crowds grew sparse, the buildings more residential and quiet. Fewer shops and businesses dotted the street. A small group of men hovered around a window several paces down. The sign above read ‘Brawner’s Inn’ in bold black lettering.

  “That should be the one,” Aeron pronounced.

  “How can you tell?”

  “I know how he thinks.” He seemed sure of himself.

  The men around the window dispersed when they saw Aeron approaching. They meandered down the street, watching the elf with curious, suspicious eyes.

  Aeron smiled as he opened the door and gestured with his other hand. “After you, my lady.”

  Lively music drifted from the back of the room, mixing with laughs and conversation from the crowd. The doorway was cramped, but opened up to a high ceiling, dangled with modest black, wrought iron chandeliers. Booths covered the left wall and a small dance floor filled with people sat in the middle, beyond a sea of tables and chairs. A bar stretched the length of the wall to the left. The modest interior was mostly oak and pine: the tables, the chairs, the floor. A poor man’s bar.

  Claire stood near the entrance. The feeling of the tavern was familiar and the energy brightened her mood a bit.

  “Ah, there.” Aeron pointed to the bar.

  Farron sat atop a barstool, hunched over a drink, his weapons and pack gone. A woman with an ample bosom leaned in close to him. She wore a low-cut deep green dress and had a mess of russet ringlets on top of her head.

  Claire was impressed at Aeron’s ability to find his partner so efficiently. “So, what did you mean about that comment earlier?”

  “Watch and see.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “Despite what it may seem, Farron is actually quite popular with the ladies.”

  The woman leaned in closer and brushed her bosom up against his arm. He took a drink and whispered something in her ear. A look of disgust showed on her face before she hopped off the stool and stormed away in a huff. He smirked as he turned back to the bar.

  Aeron sighed. “Unfortunately he is just not that good with them. How come they do not flock to me like that?”

  Claire remained silent at that.

  “Aren’t I just as good looking?”

  “Sure,” she answered plainly, not wanting him to get the wrong idea, “but he’s got the whole dark mysterious thing going on. Women love that-- they see it as a challenge. Saw it in the tavern all the time.”

  “Really? So if I act like him, I will be swarming with women?”

  “Yes, well, maybe.” The prospect just seemed too amusing to pass up. “You should try it.”

  “I will show him who is mysterious,” he mumbled as he walked off into the crowd. He plopped down at a small table in the center of the room, his face solemn and cold. He took off his sword and pack and laid them on the table in front of him. He ordered a drink from an anxious bar maiden, trying hard to ignore the stares all around him and to act like his partner.

  Claire shook her head and made her way across the room to climb onto the recently vacated barstool next to Farron.

  “Any luck?” He took a swig from the mug in front of him.

  “No.” She leaned forward on the bar, resting her arms on the smooth surface. She could barely hear him above the noise of the crowd and the music. She glanced back. Aeron sat huddled over his drink with a distressed look on his face. Laughter burst out of her lips at his ridiculous attempt, and she covered her mouth with her hand to try to stifle sound.

  “What’s so funny?” Farron asked.

  Claire nodded towards Aeron and Farron looked over at the depressed-looking elf. “He’s trying to act like you.”

  Farron sighed heavily. “And why is he doing that?”

  “It’s an experiment.”

  He turned back to the bar and took another sip from his mug.

  “What did you say to that woman before?”

  Farron choked on his drink and coughed as he set the mug down on the bar. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand as an amused look crossed his face. “You saw that, huh?”

  Claire waited for an answer.

  “Maybe I’m just not good with women.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  He chuckled and she instantly felt the eyes of every woman in the bar on her. Yikes. She glanced back at Aeron to see his progress. A brave ash-blonde woman sat next to him and leaned close over the corner of the table as he continued with his act. Claire turned back to face Farron, her eyebrow cocked expectantly. He wasn’t dodging this one. Sure, their first encounter had been a little rocky, but she knew he wasn’t mean.

  “Do you really want to know?”

  She waited.

  “I’m certain you know quite well what she wanted.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

  Claire smiled; she did.

  “I just told her that my services weren’t cheap. She was offended I wasn’t swayed by her feminine wiles and stormed off.”

  “You do that sort of thing?”

  “I didn’t always live in the forest,” he reminded her. “Had to survive somehow.”

  She was speechless for a second, having unraveled a piece of his past. Now she knew why he wanted to keep it such a secret. “I can’t believe it, you of all people.”

  “And I can’t believe you bought it.”

  She gawked at him. “Very funny. Did you tell her that story?”

  He just grinned and downed the last of his drink.

  A loud slap cut through the noise of the bar. Claire spun around and scanned the room. The woman that had been talking with Aeron stormed away. The elf sat at the table and rubbed his cheek with his hand.

  “It looks like he has the same talent with women as you do,” Claire said. “Well, time to send in the reinforcements.” She hopped down off the barstool and wound her way through the tables. She sat in the seat adjacent to the elf. Farron sat across from her. “Do I even want to know what you said?”

  Aeron took a lengthy gulp from a wooden mug, tipping it up high to finish it off. He threw his arm up in the air for the barmaid. An older woman with grey streaks in her blonde hair and a skip in her step hurried over and he held up three fingers to her. She nodded and made her way towards the bar. Curious onlookers snuck glances in their direction; it was a miracle the people remained so calm about the strangers, not starting any trouble-- so far, at least. Claire was grateful. She already had too much on her plate the way things were.

  “Farron, my friend, I just do not know how you do it. Being all sulky, it is exhausting.”

  “For the last time, I don’t sulk.”

  Claire patted Aeron on the arm. “It’s alright, I’m sure you’ll do fine being yourself.”

  “There is just no hope for me.” His sigh was exaggerated. “How about you, my lady? I am sure all the boys flocked to you in your little town.”

  She looked down at her hands that played nervously with a strap on Aeron’s pack. “Adopted barmaid isn’t exactly an appealing prospect. Even in my little town.”

  There
was a moment of silence at the small table.

  “You were adopted?” Aeron asked as his eyebrows shot up to the ceiling.

  “Yes. It’s not that strange these days, is it?”

  The two elves exchanged looks.

  “Look, I know what you’re thinking. Even though she’s not my real mother, she’s the closest thing I have to one. She raised and took care of me. As far as I’m concerned, that’s good enough for me.”

  There was another pause at the table.

  “Did you have any luck this afternoon?” Aeron turned to Farron.

  The barmaid came back with a tray full of drinks. She carefully set the mugs down on the table. The older woman looked up at the two elves and smiled shyly, her cheeks flushing, and then she glanced away. She turned and made her way to the group of barmaids huddled in the corner by the bar. Claire could faintly hear their shrieks and giggles, no doubt gushing about the newcomers.

  “None.” Farron gripped the handle on his mug tight, avoiding Claire’s gaze.

  “You didn’t have any luck either?” she asked. “Don’t you think it’s strange? What could have happened to everyone? Where did they go?” She looked down into her mug and took a sip of the dark ale. Her face twisted at the sour taste.

  “It’s possible they could have fled to Alexos,” Farron said. “Unfortunately, it’s the other way.”

  A port city to the east, Alexos was not under Lendonian rule, though it was one of their main traders, Stockton being an almost midway point along the route. A place she’d always hoped of seeing, a great city along the sea, but it looked like that dream would be quashed as well. “So you’re saying we can’t go there?”

  “You might have forgotten, but we’re still on a mission.” Farron’s icy eyes bore into her from across the tiny table. She stared back, not willing to back down so easily.

  “Now, now.” Aeron waved his hands in the air between them. “We can still look around tomorrow. Someone in this town might know what is going on.” He held his mug up in the air. “Here is to finding your mother. And not getting mauled by the people of Lendon.”