Odder The Demon Hunter - The Blood Curse

This time, the portal landed Odder in an underground burrow. At least that’s what it felt like. The walls were close and damp, and the stench of sulfur and earthworms filled the air. He had a flashback of when he fell under the dragon tree and saw the mole creature’s six glowing eyes peering at him through the obscurity. His breathing became shallow and quick, and a piercing chill climbed his spine, rolled over his shoulders, and escaped down his arms. Am I in the same…?

His eyes adjusted. He could see rays of light fracturing the darkness several feet in front of him. He spit out the dirt that fell into his mouth and tried to yell.

A hand appeared in front of him. “Get outa that hole, laddy.”

Odder gripped the hand and pulled while kicking his feet. His head popped through the foliage. He squinted and saw Finkle.

“A little help here,” Finkle yelled to Aimma.

She reached for Odder’s other hand, and together they pulled him out.

Odder hunched over the ground to catch his breath. “I never want to experience that again.”

A few seconds later Serra shot out of the hole like a long-tailed widowbird, flipped in the air, and landed with one foot planted and the other resting under her.

Finkle applauded. “Amazing dexterity my dark vixen.”

Serra bowed.

Aimma rolled her eyes and sat next to Odder. “You alright?”

“Yes, I’m not a fan of small dark places.”

With her arms crossed, Aimma asked Serra, “Why did you make us portal through a rodent hole?”.

Serra brushed the dust off her crimson leather vest and cloak. She checked her daggers and then her satchel. “It makes sense to hide the portal. Don’t you think?”

Finkle adjusted his fez and grinned. “I think so.”

Aimma exhaled and turned away.

“Don’t be offended, Aimma,” Odder whispered. “Finkle is easily spell bounded by the maidens.” He stood and fanned off the dirt. “Thanks, Serra, now which way to the wizard Salvat?”

Serra grabbed a stick, slumped close to the ground and drew a map. “Here is Elestus, and down here is the start of the marshlands.” She drew an X. “We are here at the river and Salvat’s land, here.”

“Looks like a day’s walk,” Finkle said.

Serra nodded then drew another X. “We need supplies and rest. We can clean up here.”

“And where is that?” Odder asked.

“The potion master.”

Odder jolted back. “You were supposed to take us to Salvat?”

Aimma stood and placed her hands on her hips. “I knew we couldn’t trust you!” She turned toward Odder. “She’s deceiving us.”

“Trust? I saved your lives. Maybe I should’ve left you to be massacred by the goblins and their queen.” Serra stood and stirred her foot over the map, wiping it clear. “I don’t care if you come or not. Leave if you want.” She walked north along the edge of the river.

Finkle tugged at Odder’s cloak. “We’ve all been through a lot, and Kellas will set soon. We should accept her invitation for rest and food.”

Odder looked at Aimma and Finkle. Their clothes were tattered, bodies covered in blood and soot, and he knew hopelessness would soon creep in. He conceited. “Yes, you’re right. Serra, wait for us.”

Finkle slapped his tummy.

Aimma threw her hands up and shook her head. “I’m glad you can trust your stomach over our lives.”

“How much further?” Finkle asked. “It’s almost dark, and we don’t want to be out here when Ophelia dominates the sky. Nasty creatures come out in its dim light.”

“Don’t worry little gnomie. See that small waterfall up ahead? A doorway hides behind the waters.”

Serra led the group to the water, pulled out a small whistle, and blew several notes. The water parted revealing a passage blocked by a haggard dead tree. She held out her palm. “The doorway.”

“You mean that rotting tree?” asked Aimma in disbelief.

Serra smiled. “Indeed.”

She approached the tree. The roots weaved and bent into the ground. The gray limbs twisted and gnarled together. Its tips covered in rot and moss. Serra gripped the trunk at the split, uttered some words, and pulled the tree open. Hundreds of tiny spiders creeped out and fled into the shadows.

Odder cringed and quivered. “Spiders.”

Serra brushed the dust off a simple wooden door with old elven symbols carved into the planks. She knocked. No answer. She knocked again, this time with a little more force.

After a moment, a raspy voice answered, “Who’s there?”

“It’s me, Serra.”

The head of a bearded old elf, wearing spectacles and a pointed blue hat, phased through the door.

“Serra! Thank the Celestines.” He grinned, showing his large polished teeth. “You survived.” He peered down at the others. “Who are they?”

“They’re with me and can be trusted.” She sobered her expression. “They need food and shelter, and . . .” She peeked over her shoulder. “He’s been marked by the shadow reapers.”

Odder, Finkle, and Aimma stepped forward.

“Elestus has fallen,” Odder said, his head down.

“I saw the attack in my mystic ball.” He pursed his lips and stared at the group. “But I didn’t see the shadow reapers. Are you sure?”

“Yes,” answered Serra.

“Of course then. Come in quickly.” His head slipped back through the door. A clanging noise, the rustling of chains, and a few thumps sounded before the door opened. A bright light gleamed from behind the old elf. “Quickly now, follow the light.”

Serra stepped in with the others following. A musty odor filled the artless hall as they walked, the door shut behind them and locked itself. The bare stone walls were somewhat damp, and Odder thought the path might lead to a dungeon. At the end were five steps that climbed to another wooden door. The old elf, dressed in a dingy brown cloak, stepped up slowly and opened the door.

“Is there trouble, Karzan?” asked a feminine voice.

The old elf ushered in the guests. “Martha, It’s Serra and some visitors.”

“Serra?” She smiled and rushed to the group. Martha wrapped her arms around her, lifting Serra off the ground. “I’m so happy to see you. It was horrible what we saw.” Martha turned back toward Odder, Finkle, and Aimma. “If Serra trusts you enough to bring you here, then you are welcome, please sit.” She pointed to a large rectangular wood table. “Please, have some bread. I’ll get the gerbbit stew.”

Serra and Finkle sat at the table immediately while Odder and Aimma inspected the room.

Aimma leaned in and whispered, “What do you think?”

“I think anything can happen. Just look at the incredible illusion hiding his house. Let’s be cautious,” Odder responded.

He continued to look around the room. The floor had thousands of rings as if cut from an ancient oak. Vertical curved wood planks stacked on the sides up to the peaked ceilings. “I think we’re inside a tree.”

“We are.” Aimma tapped on a wooden wall. “We live in similar dwellings in Salutaria.”

“All I’ve ever seen are the stone walls and cobbled stones of Elestus.” He walked up to a well-crafted spiral staircase leading to the second floor. A heavy lacquered wood rail traveled up the sides. Odder slid his hands across the smooth surface. It reminded him of his wooden sword.

“Do you like the craftsmanship?” asked the old elf.

“It’s beautiful.” Odder eyed the hand carved furniture and paintings. “Your home is very charming.”

“Thank you, lad. My name is Karzan Ka. Some call me the potion master.”

“I’m Odder.”

“Odder, strong name.” He motioned toward the table. “Let’s join the others. We need to discuss the details of the attack.”

Odder lifted his arm exposing the markings.

Karzan grabbed his wrist. “You have a curse.”

Serra stood. “It looks like a demon curse. I told him you could help.”

Karzan rubbed his eyes under his spectacles. “Yes, definitely a demon curse and it’s poisoning you.”

“Can you break the spell?” Odder asked.

“Maybe. It’ll take some effort, and we’ll need our strength. Let’s have some food first and I’ll examine you afterward.” Karzan motioned toward the table and led the way.

Odder and Aimma followed. She made an effort to sit next to Finkle, far from Serra.

“Sit here, Odder.” Serra patted an empty chair next to her. She jutted her chin toward Aimma.

Aimma puffed, rising from her seat.

Karzan slapped the table. “You’ve all been through much today. Tensions are high.”

Aimma sat back down.

“Martha, food would be good right now,” Karzan said, his voice deep.

“Almost done, just needs an extra pinch of ashas root.”

Serra and Aimma locked eyes, while Odder sat quietly, waiting for the awkwardness to pass. Finkle shoved a half loaf into his mouth without any effort.

Wooden bowls flew through the air and landed in front of the wizard and guests. Martha carried a large pot to the center of the table. She lifted her wand and swirled it in the air. A parade of carrots, potatoes, beets, and shallots danced above the table and then fell into the bowls. “Now guests, help yourself. We have plenty.”

Finkle jumped on the table, swallowed his bread, and started doing a silly little jig.

“Finkle!” both Odder and Aimma barked.

Martha giggled, and Karzan let out a hearty roar.

“Get down from the table,” Odder grumbled. “It’s rude.”

“Nonsense,” said Karzan. “Your gnome friend is full of life and entertaining.”

Odder’s face reddened and he sat back in his chair.

Finkle bowed, stood upright, grabbed the ladle and served everyone at the table. “Just wanted to show my appreciation.”

“Well done.” Karzan clapped with Martha and Serra joining.

Odder slammed his fists on the table. “Why are you all laughing? Do you not know what happened just hours ago?” He stood, his chair fell back. “The goblins attacked the games, killed elves, ravaged Elestus and the King, and for all we know, all of Arcaina is under siege.”

Silence filled the room.

“Perhaps a drink of ale, laddy?” Finkle handed him a cup.

Odder knocked it out of his hand. “Does anyone care?”

“Now, no need to be rude.” Finkle lifted his fists to his face.

“Enough.” Karzan pounded his hands on the table, getting everyone’s attention. He straightened his spectacles. “Odder’s right to ask and feel the way he does.” He pushed his soup forward. “Our hearts break for our brethren, for the fall of Elestus, and the loss of King Gralon.” Karzan snapped his fingers above his head. A bright crystal ball flew from around the corner and landed in front of him. He motioned his hands above the crystal, attempting to clear its murky vision but it remained cloudy. “Before you arrived, I searched the Houses and lands for any other attacks. This dismal view is all that shows as if an evil suppresses its magic.”

Finkle took his seat, his head bowed.

“The evil creatures control Arcaina then?” Aimma asked. “Are we doomed to live the next four thousand years in darkness?

Karzan lifted his shoulders and glanced at each elf. “This is the time of the Great Tetrad. The four-thousand-year wait is here and a Champion chosen. All is not lost.”

“But the Champion is captured and possibly dead.” Odder’s chest tightened and a lump formed in his throat. “Without Destin, who will guard the portal?”

Karzan clasped his fingers and sat back. “The High Wizards came together to create the Champion’s Quest to choose the hero. Such arrogance! It is not they who choose the hero, it is the Celestines. I believe you, Odder are the chosen Champion.”

“What?!” Odder’s adrenaline spiked. “Never, you’re not worthy of such an honor,” his inner voice cried out. He grimaced. “How can that be? I’m just a servant, a vekart, and a stain on the elven race. I have no magic.”

Aimma shifted in her chair while Finkle and Serra scoffed.

“Your markings,” said Karzan. “I knew right away. The symbol in the middle is the symbol of the Champion and the other symbols must be inhibiting your magic.”

“That would mean Odder is the greatest wizard Arcaina has seen in over four-thousand years,” said Finkle, falling on the ground.

“No, no,” Odder said. “Aimma tell him what I am.”

She looked at Karzan. “I… I don’t know.”

“Well I think it’s preposterous,” said Serra. “What skills does he have to be a Champion?”

Karzan waved his hand down. “Now Serra.”

She sank into her chair.

Odder rubbed his forehead and sat silent. His hand fell over his cheeks and then over his lips. “I see what you’re doing Karzan, and I appreciate that you want to use me as an example to rally the elves against the goblins, but I am not the one. The Divine Oracle said defeating the demons would free me to wield magic, and I will use this to kill the Queen, but I am no Champion.”

Karzan sat forward and tapped his fingers on the table. “I assure you Odder. You are the Champion, and I can prove it.”

“How?”

“I will show you.” He took a swig of his drink then slammed the cup on the table. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll examine your markings, and find a cure for the poison.”

“But you said after we eat,” Odder snapped.

“This is no small curse, Odder. We both need to be well rested. Especially after what you’ve been through today.”

Odder hunched into his seat knowing the wizard’s logic made sense.

“What about the shadow reapers?” Serra asked.

“We are protected by a powerful cloaking spell. They won’t find us here,” Karzan responded.

Finkle stretched his arms out and yawned. “Good. Then all we need are some comfy beds.”

“Perhaps we should all retire,” said Martha. “Take some food to your rooms if you like. Serra, can you show our guests to their quarters on the second floor? Odder and the gnome can share the western room and Aimma, what a lovely name, the eastern.”

They all stood. Finkle grabbed a couple of potatoes and back-flipped to the floor. “So, you’re the one, laddy?” He grinned. “I always knew you were special.”

Odder, disheartened by the delay, shrugged and crossed his arms. “Special yes but hardly a hero.”

They followed Serra up the stairs and into a small hallway. Odder drifted behind, lost in his thoughts of the day’s events and Karzan’s words.

Aimma cleared her throat and stopped the group just before departing. “Serra, I want to apologize.” Her face blushed. “I didn’t trust you, but I can see now you were trying to help. Thanks for saving our lives.”

Serra cocked her head and sneered. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Ah! Why did I say anything?” Aimma marched into her room and shut the door.

“The washroom’s down the hall to the right,” Serra muttered.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on her,” Finkle said.

“She’s soft, and she needs to toughen up,” Serra responded. Her words hard like tempered steel.

“She’s a healer,” Odder said, in a gentle voice, “and she’s plenty tough.”

Serra shook her head and opened the door to their room. “Here you go. Rest well if you can - Champion or not.” She said, in a sarcastic tone. “Oh, just holler if there’s trouble. I’ll be at the end of the hall.”