A Hero's Curse (22 page)

I
lliana takes me back to my room only after Jaeda squeezes me for every detail of our journey or gossip she finds interesting. I feel wrung out, and my mind is exhausted. Even the queen didn’t try to dig every minute detail out of me like Jaeda did. Illiana is quiet.

“We’re back,” Illiana says, pulling me in off the street. A strain of the cloud weaver’s music catches me off guard. It is a beautiful, haunting piece that lasts a few seconds and then is gone. It washes some of the worry from me. I want to know more about the cloud weavers, but I don’t even know where to start. It sounds both fascinating and frightening.

“Am I walking on air and music?”

Illiana giggles. “You’ll be fine. If Kael can walk here, so can you. Here’s your room.” I look for the door with my fingers, but Illiana grabs both my hands in hers. “Ess, I’ve been thinking about what you told Jaeda, and about the daemon’s army. We should do something about it.”

I sputter. “What do you mean ‘we’?”

“Us. You, me, and Tig,” she says matter of factly.

I shake my head. “What are we supposed to do, Illiana?”

Illiana gives my hands a squeeze. “I don’t know,” she says, “yet. But I’ve got an idea.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Why what?”

“Why would you want to help me?” Her use of the word “friend” comes back to me.

I feel her shrug her shoulders. “You asked. Your family is in trouble. Aeola is in trouble, too. Besides, if I still had my family, I’d be trying to save them, too, just like you.”

She slips out of my hands, and I hear her feet patter away on air and music. Her answer stings, but not because she meant it to. I think back to a waist-high Urodela, telling me the Kingdom of Crypta was dying. In a way I gave him the same answer Queen Leonatrix gave me a few hours ago. I put a hand on the door to my cell and take a deep breath.

I push the door open slowly. “Tig?” I let the name float into the room.

“Still here, just like I said I would be.”

“And I came back, just like I said I would. So we’re both men of our word. Except I’m a girl. And you’re a cat.” I tell Tig about the image portal and Jaeda. “You should have brought me a pastry,” he admonishes. I grin and pull him onto my lap.

However the weavers weave air with music, it’s comfortable. Tig seems to relax some in my lap, and before I know it I slump into a deep sleep. Illiana wakes me with a quick knock on our door. She doesn’t wait for me to answer. She bursts into the room, breathless and excited. Several hours must have passed, because I feel half rested.

“I found something that might work, Ess,” says Illiana. I wait for her to explain. “‘Stole’ is probably more accurate than ‘found,’ but listen, this could save your kingdom. And ours, too. Anyway, that’s what she said, and you don’t even have to defeat the daemon. She said that the army and the daemon have probably left the Cauldron. It’s unguarded—it’s a chance.”

I shake my head. “Illiana, what are you talking about? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m still a prisoner! What did you steal? Who’s she?” Panic starts to rise in my throat. I like Illiana. I don’t want her in a cell next to me for something stupid.

I catch her hands and run my fingers over her face to see her expression. She is grinning, but it just makes me angry. “Oops, didn’t mean to say ‘she.’ I’m not supposed to tell, on penalty of death and all that. Don’t worry about the stealing, although we need to hurry. Here’s what you’ll need, Ess. First, the Aeolan guard’s medallion. Wear it around your neck. All of our realm guardians wear them. She said it will offer some kind of protection. A shield, whatever that means.”

“Who is ‘she’?” I yell.

“I told you, I can’t tell you. So please don’t ask. She said there were some who wouldn’t approve.” I take the medallion with trembling fingers; it is thick and heavy. Illiana’s impatient hands push the medallion over my neck; then she sits on the bed next to me and pulls Tig into her lap.

“I’m sorry the daemon cursed you, Ess.”

My breath catches in my throat. I blurt what I have been thinking since the queen explained the Daemon’s Dusk. “Do you think the queen could cure me?”

“I don’t know.” I am surprised at the tremor in her voice. “It sounds like a powerful one—”

“She wouldn’t help if she could,” I say, angrier than I have been at anyone—except Tig. Hot tears burn my eyes and spill down my face. I try again to speak, but only choke on my words. I don’t know what I would say anyway. I wipe the tears away, irritated that I am crying again. “Ever since the moment I heard those first strains of music I guess I hoped—” The lump in my throat keeps me from saying any more. I reach out and scratch Tig behind the ears.

“What were you saying about stealing stuff and leaving?” Tig prompts.

Illiana rustles in her pocket and then pushes two warm, hard balls the size of a couple of apples into my hand. They are wrapped in canvas and tied with string. “It’s sunfire. She said it will destroy the Cauldron.”

I am shaking my head before she finishes. “It won’t work, Illiana. My dad tried. He had sunfire. It didn’t work. The daemon still won.”

Illiana hesitates. “I didn’t know that. But she said it would work. It has to work. You’re supposed to put it in the Cauldron. I don’t think you’re even supposed to go near the daemon.”

She must see the disbelief written all over my face, but she ignores it. “I’ll take you to Lemranihim, I call him Lem, he’s on our side. He’s a bit of an outcast, but he can get you out of Aeola.”

I could ask a dozen different questions, but I am ready to leave. I want to do anything but sit here while an army marches toward the Kingdom of Mar. “Who’s this ‘Lem’ guy you’re taking me to?”

“It’s easier if I just show you,” says Illiana breezily.

This is disconcerting, but Illiana pulls me out the door with Tig on my shoulders. “Are we going back through the mountain?” I realize with a start that I could not find my way back out. The haunting music and life of Aeola guided me here. I could wander for years trying to retrace my steps.

“You don’t have enough time. You wouldn’t get past Kael anyway. Lem will let you ride him. He’ll take you to the southeast, straight to the Burning Cauldron.”

“Ride?” I blurt.

“Sure,” says Illiana, pausing. “Haven’t you ever ridden before?”

“Horses?” I shudder. “Illiana, horses are huge. And I can’t see. And it’s days to the Burning Cauldron . . .” I trail off, hoping this will be enough for her to consider an alternative.

“Ess,” Illiana giggles, “this is not just a horse. This is Lem, an Exarus. You’ll be safe. And you’ll be fast. You’re going to need fast.”

I am not at all sure about how “Lem” doesn’t qualify as a “horse,” but Illiana is quick and has moved on. We duck in and out of streets and hurry past busy markets. Tig gets heavy on my shoulders. When we finally stop most of the sounds of people have receded. She straightens my tunic and pushes my old pack back into my hands. “Better put that sunfire back in here. I also put a small image portal in here,” she says.

“How did you steal sunfire, Illiana?”

“Like I said, better you don’t ask,” she says, “then I don’t have to lie to you. I’m terrible at lying.”

“Will I ever get to see you again?” I ask.

Illiana takes my shoulders, and I feel her studying me. “Maybe. You have to find the Cauldron. Put the sunfire in the Cauldron itself.” I nod, not really understanding how that is supposed to happen.

Tig interjects. “Things are moving a little quick for Ess. Maybe you should go over everything for her one more time. Like will Tig ever be able to see again, where is Tig going to ride, what will Tig’s role be, will Tig be safe, how will Tig be honored in song?” Illiana ignores him. Huge feet come trotting over to us. I am startled by how quickly something so large came up on us. This silky ground again. Illiana leads me to Lem. I can hear that he is big, but he doesn’t sound as big as our mare was.

“Lem?” I ask, my voice a hesitant stutter.

He lets out an annoyed whinny. “It’s Lemranihim Hindrel unless you’re like Illiana and butcher the name every time.”

Illiana interjects. “They would. She already tried. Thanks for coming, Lem. She doesn’t ride.”

He chuckles in response, a deep snorting chuckle that actually makes me a little defiant. “You’re not very big,” he says.

“Neither are you,” I retort.

I hear him shake his mane and something rustles that isn’t quite mane. “Not bad for not being able to see me. I’m smaller than some horses. But I’m faster than the bigger Exarus,” he sniffs. I put a hand out and find his head and run it down his neck. He wasn’t telling the whole truth. He is way smaller than most horses. At least the horses I’m used to. I jerk my hand back when it bumps something that shouldn’t be there.

He chuckles again. “Go ahead. I’ll bet you’ve never met a flying Exarus before.” I run my hand gingerly over the beautifully soft feathers.

“She hasn’t met anything that flies much bigger than a buzzard,” says Tig from my feet. “Although it doesn’t sound like you’re too much bigger than—”

“Watch it, kitten, I don’t much like meowers. I might step on you.”

Tig chuckles, happy his comment hit.

“Have you had magic placed on you so that you can speak Lingua Comma?” I ask.

Lem snorts again. “The Exarus speak many languages, including Lingua Comma,” he says disdainfully.

“Why would you help us?” I ask.

“I lived in the lower city. If Illiana says there might be some way to stick it to that daemon, I’m in.”

“So we’re flying?” I ask, even though I know the answer.

“You’re so lucky!” says Illiana. “Nobody gets to ride on an Exarus.”

“Not much more I can do to cut myself off from the rest of the Exarus,” says Lem. “We might as well.”

“Is this a good time to tell you I’m terrified of heights and speed?” I squeak.

“I’m actually not all that hot about flying, either,” says Tig from my feet again. “I mean, does this pony even have training?”

“Watch it, kitten—” Lem has a boyish voice, with a thick lilting accent that is Exarus, I suppose. “I am a winged Exarus,” my stomach continues to tighten, “and not a horse and definitely not a pony. And I can take both of you little squirts to the Gray Wastelands unless I decide to dump the cat somewhere between here and there.” Tig doesn’t have an answer for that one. I think he is as terrified of riding Lem as I am. Illiana pushes a soft blanket onto Lem’s back. I take a handful of mane and try to scramble on to Lem’s back, but I can’t get up. Illiana makes a cup out of her hand, and I try again.

“Hurry up, you’re heavy!” she hisses. I am scrambling the best I can, but even if Lem is smaller than our mare Sassafras, he is still as tall as my head and very slick. Finally I get a leg over, and Illiana pushes me up . . . and off the other side. I thump to the ground.

Illiana laughs, and I blush furiously. “Come on, clumsy, we need to hurry.” The second time I don’t slip off. I feel like I am hundreds of feet off the ground. Illiana interrupts. “Uh oh. We’ve been spotted. Time to go.” I hear a shout, but I’ve learned not to trust my sense of distance here. They could be close.

“You feel like a frightened rabbit,” says Lem. “Take my mane in your hand. There you go, not too tight. Now grip with your knees. Don’t kick me with your boots.” I immediately pull my boots away from his sides. The last thing I want to do is make a winged Exarus mad. Illiana picks Tig up and places him carefully behind me on the blanket. He is letting off a long low growl.

“Check on Shuffles, er, King Mactogonii. Make sure he’s okay?”

“I will,” says Illiana. “May the wind carry you quickly.”

“Let’s hope it does,” Lem responds. “You better run, girl.” The shouts are definitely closer now.

“Thank you, Illiana!” I manage to yell as Lem pushes himself into the air, and my stomach really does fall behind. Tig wraps his claws around my waist, bushes his tail, and spits.

“Hold on, you two.” Lem banks and swoops away from the shouts, Illiana’s cheers, snatches of music, and any hope we had in King Mactogonii or Queen Leonatrix.

I feel the sun warm on my back as we turn east toward the daemon’s army and the Burning Cauldron. I didn’t find what I was looking for in Aeola. Instead an orphan servant girl and an outcast Exarus found me.

Hope feels different than I thought it would. It feels real. Like I can touch it. The ember deep inside me flares brighter with each beat of Lem’s wings.

“Oh, no. I can see again,” groans Tig.

A
s we speed over the hot sand dunes below I feel the air warm considerably. I am growing more at ease on Lem’s back despite my initial trepidation. I can feel his powerful muscles as we turn, drop, or glide. I suppose it is an advantage I can’t see how high we are. I let myself relax just a little. I let my legs feel his cues: a dip, a burst of speed, or banking. It feels natural. I even let go and spread my arms as far as they will go. Then Lem does a little dip, and I hug his neck again. He chuckles.

Tig is perhaps as uncomfortable as he has been the whole trip. Clinging to the blanket on Lem’s back, he stays twice his normal size for the entire journey. He utters a continuous, long, low moan. Lem is fast. At least, he’s the fastest winged horse I’ve ever known. We are only flying for what seems to me a little more than an hour before we taste the acidic ash and smell the smoke.

“You’re fast,” I say in Lem’s ear.

“Thanks, short stuff.” But he says it good naturedly. “It feels good to fly. It feels better to fly fast.”

Tig yowls, and I think he even mutters something about eating birds, not riding them. I don’t think Lem heard, and I ignore him. I wish Tig could tell me what he is seeing, but he is indisposed. I keep my mouth closed as we fly deeper into the swirling ash. I feel bad for Lem having this in his eyes.

“We’re here.” I grip hard with my knees as Lem drops several feet. He comes in at a gallop, slowing to a trot, and then to a walk. A soon as we stop Tig hops off. I am a bit more awkward. I slide off and end up pulling Lem’s mane quite a bit. He doesn’t say anything, and I manage to stay on my feet. It feels weird to be back on the ground. My legs feel like jelly. The ground is rough and crunchy. Not sand. I stoop and feel the ground. Ash. Charred remains of whatever was burned. I smell the rancid smell of scorched meat and hear grunts on the wind. Big things. Hunters. Meat eaters.

“We’re in a ravine just above the Cauldron basin,” says Lem in what he must think is a whisper. “I don’t think we’ve been spotted yet.”

“I thought everything would be gone marching toward Mar. Now what?” I ask. I hear Tig choke, and I turn to hear what my eyes have to say.

“I can’t believe it. I’m pretty sure I saw the wrecked territory stretched out in front of us . . .” he trails off. “It’s changing.” Despite the oppressive heat a chill runs up my spine. I finger the medallion around my neck and pull my pack around so it is easy to open. He coughs again. The ash must be terrible to him. He is too close to the ground.

“It’s a green valley, Ess. There’s a stream running through the middle.” My senses tell me the truth, and the shock that Tig can’t be my eyes makes me dizzy. I hear Tig shake himself. “Ask me anything, Ess. You can’t make this stuff up. There’s even a palace about half a mile off to the right. It is gleaming like gold in the sunlight. It has banners fluttering from the turrets.”

“That’s enough, Tig,” I interrupt, my voice shaky. “It’s an illusion. You know as well as I do there is no palace out here.”

Lem breaks in. “That’s quite a field. Looks like clover if I had to guess.” He snorts and takes a step back. “Illiana mentioned illusions, but this is something else.” He is breathing harder than he did the entire trip. I am sure the whole valley can hear us. “It looks springy and would be great to walk on, and maybe munch a little,” he says.

“You’d be disappointed,” I retort.

I round on Tig. “Tig! I can still smell the rotting and feel the heat. The ground under our feet is rocks and ash. There are hunters in this valley, and I don’t mean you.”

Tig snaps back, not bothering to keep his voice down. “Well, you’re blind, aren’t you? You’ve had me tell you about every little thing we’ve passed on this trip, and now that we finally see something worth seeing you tell me it’s not there. You can just pretend it is a wasteland.”

I catch my breath and make a shushing motion with my hand. “Tig, you have to know what to do. I can’t make it through here without you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tig snaps.

I should either cry or kick him. “Did you even remember what Illiana said about the Cauldron?” I ask, not bothering to whisper.

“Listen,” spits Tig, “you wanted to come on this trip, trying to act the hero, but you don’t even know where you are or what to do.”

“That’s not true,” my voice is rising, but Tig gets up and trots off, his feet shuffling through the ash.

“Shut up, little girl,” calls Tig over his shoulder.

I grab for Lem’s mane. “Lem, can you see Tig?”

Lem snorts. “These illusions are powerful, little one. He’s fading. If what you’re saying is true we should leave.” Lem starts to walk forward.

“Where are you going?” I hiss.

“Back the way we came?” asks Lem.

“No, you’re heading the opposite way we came, toward what sounds like the middle of the valley and the Cauldron.”

Lem is still for a moment. “I probably shouldn’t move,” he says. I feel a sense of desperation. Lem and Tig? Who will act as my eyes? What have I done coming here? A swirl of ash blows in my face and chokes me for a moment, but my eyes are safe behind my blindfold. I smooth the silk and tighten the knot in the back. Tig starts to purr a few yards away. He sounds like he is sitting. I breathe a tiny sigh of relief. I just hope he stays.

“What are you doing?” asks Lem.

“I’m going to try to do what we came here to do,” I say.

“How?”

“The only way I know.” The acrid smoke burns my nose, and I cough if I try to breathe through my mouth. “To the Cauldron then, I guess,” I say, mostly to myself. I don’t know what else to do. I guess I had hoped that Lem could fly over the Cauldron, and we could drop the sunfire in, and that would be it.

A splashing gurgle comes from off in front of me and then subsides into a soft bubbling. If I had to guess, that sounds like a cauldron to me. I swing my pack over one shoulder. My other hand grips my new medallion. I take a deep breath and scramble up and over the embankment in front of us. I am on a slope that drops off toward the bubbling of the Cauldron. I feel a charred stick under my foot. I pick it up. About three feet. Good length. I hope it’s a stick and not a spindly forearm. That would be gross.

I move slowly forward, swinging it in front of me. I wince when I poke something soft off to my right. Whatever it is doesn’t move, but it smells like it is rotting. Some kind of big insects are buzzing through the air. They sound bigger than wasps. I hear the furious clicks of millions of what I can only assume are some kind of bugs. I try to hurry on, but each step proves more treacherous than the last. I wish Tig were here. He would tell me if I am walking up to a dragon or down a deep dead end ravine or if I am about to walk off into a slime pit. I shake my head and continue. The bubbling has a rhythm to it, a throbbing drum-like heartbeat that guides me forward.

Each second I expect some attack. I don’t have much of a plan except to hope whatever pounces on me tries to take on my leather armor first. With each step down the slope the throbbing increases. The ground I am walking on shakes from the beat. Sweat runs freely down my face. I whisper to myself.
Find the Cauldron.

The stories said the crater was in the center of the basin. It seems that I am on the right track. The slope is heading straight for the throbbing gurgle that seems to be coming from or near the Cauldron. A hot wind whips my hair, and the stench almost makes me sick. I stop and gag.
Where are the hunters? Something’s protecting this Cauldron—where are they?

As if in answer I feel the ground shaking. Several large somethings are charging me. I cringe and scream, pointing my stick toward the onslaught. They pound closer and closer, then, just as they are almost on top of me I hear a tremendous impact as if a giant has run into a stone wall. Something close to me roars, and I feel its hot, sour, breath, directly between me and the Cauldron.

I don’t know what to do. I want to turn and run. I take a tentative step forward and hear a heavy grunt and claws scrambling in the rock shards. I take another cautious step and now I am sure of it: I am pushing something just by walking. I almost grin, but a wave of noxious fumes kills my smile. I can hear the furious click of insect wings above me, but they stay just out of reach.

I realize I am clutching my pack to my chest so hard my fingers hurt. The sound of a drop of water comes from my pack. A second of confusion gives way to a wave of amazed relief. I rip open the pack and pull out the portal, touching the cool surface with a trembling finger.

“Ess!” It makes me jump even though I know it’s coming, that fun filled voice. I know that voice. “I’m sorry. I wanted to contact you earlier but they caught me, and I just got away a few minutes ago.”

“I can see you! The thing in front of you looks like a bull with three horns and, well, it’s ugly. I’ll stay as long as I can, but they’re looking for me and the wave portal I’m using is, uh, borrowed. Do you need help?” I want to tell her to run, to not worry about me, but I can’t. I grip the portal and nod, my whole body shakes, tears stream wet into my bandana. At least she can’t see that.

“It’s really good to have you here,” I say, and I am surprised at my voice: dry and cracked, barely audible.

“It’s nothing,” she says. “You’re trying to get to that black pool, right?” I nod and turn the portal so that Illiana can get a good view of what is in front of us. “You’ll need to get around the ugly horned thing in front of you then.”

“I can push it,” I say, my voice not quite as choked as it was a second ago. I demonstrate by taking another couple of steps forward.

“Nice!” she squeals. “Quick, go forward a few steps.” I walk forward and hear the grunting creature scratch and scrape the rocks with its claws as it is pushed back.

“Ess, your medallion will probably run out of magic soon, too. I don’t know much about them, but I know the shield doesn’t last very long.” The splashing gurgle is close now. The thing in front of me bellows and scrambles to the right.

“You’re right in front of the pool, Ess,” says Illiana. “Take a couple of steps closer, and then stop. You don’t want to get any closer than that.” I hear the creature behind me now, backing off and then charging. I turn the portal so that Illiana can take a look.

Illiana chuckles. “It’s being hurled back every time. It doesn’t learn very quickly. It must be a boy.”

It charges again, and this time I feel a gentle push. The magic is weakening. I take a couple of tentative steps closer to the Cauldron. In front of me the Cauldron starts to churn like an angry river, but it’s much too thick to be water. It bubbles and sloshes. I feel a new wave of heat, and a sickly mist burns my face and hands.

“Hold on, Ess. You’re about six steps from the Cauldron. Take the sunfire and throw it into the Cauldron. Don’t worry about throwing it too far, the Cauldron’s pretty big.” I claw open my pack. The beast behind me snarls and hurls itself at me again. It slams against the shield created by my medallion, and I feel a definite impact this time.

“The shield!” I yell.

“Find the sunfire, Ess, and then get out of there!” Illiana’s voice is not at all laughing now. It is tinged with desperation. I find the hard globes at the bottom of the pack, wrapped in cloth. I pull out one of the packages, and my fingers tremble over the knot.

“Forget the wrapping!” screams Illiana. “Just throw it!” I throw as hard as I can toward the churning boiling fumes. It makes it. I hear it plop in the Cauldron. Nothing happens. Absolute terror grips my heart. It was supposed to work!

The Cauldron sucks the air around me into itself. I throw myself backward to avoid getting sucked into the pool. I am still being drawn toward the Cauldron. I drop my pack and claw at the ground for a something to hold onto when the Cauldron reverses, blasting me backward in a wave of cool air. I roll over, scrambling to my knees, clutching the portal. An otherworldly shriek of fury from high above cuts through the valley. The wind is howling around me, the ground shakes, but not from the monsters scrambling around me. A deep tremor runs under my feet. The ground tips, buckles, and slides forward.

“Hurry, Ess,” Illiana calls, “the ground is breaking up. It looks like you need to go forward, now a little to your right, too much, there you go.” I scramble away from the rocks grinding and earth tearing behind me.

“Stop!” Illiana shouts. Her voice catches, and then she manages to get out, “The daemon.”

I freeze and try to pick out anything above the grinding, breaking rock. There it is. A footstep. And another. Big. Way bigger than a horse.

“Essie Brightsday.” It is a statement. The voice is smooth and almost feminine. My pulse quickens.

“It’s in front of you about ten steps,” says Illiana.

“For now,” says the smooth voice, now in a deep masculine tone that makes me jump. “I can’t let you walk away from my cauldron. Not after what you’ve done. Tsk, tsk. Now I’ll have to start another one. You’ll do as a cauldron starter.” His smooth voice and calm explanation have me shaking so badly I can barely stand.

Queen Leonatrix interrupts from the portal in my hand. “You can’t kill her, daemon. She held sunfire. She still has the burn. If you touch her you will be undone.” The queen’s voice propels my hand into action. I dig through my bag and find the other globe.