Authors: P. S. Broaddus
T
ig and I are walking the pipeline. Not because we have to check for leaks anymore. The river is more full than I have ever heard it. When Tig and I set out this morning Dad cautioned me not to get too close, then he must have thought better of it because he said, “You know what you’re doing. See you soon, Brightstar.”
I just wanted to hear the Mar. It is rushing through the pipeline to our farm with so much pressure there are hundreds of leaks. Not that we even need the water now. It has rained almost every other day for the past three weeks.
Dad wanted to show the irrigation system to a farmer from down the valley. We are selling our home and land. Mom says we are moving back to the palace. The old heroes and valley folk want Dad to take back his role as First Champion until King Mactogonii is back and well enough to take the throne. They wouldn’t take no for an answer.
I’m excited, but scared at the same time. It will be a whole new world, and while I’m getting more comfortable with who I am, I still feel uncomfortable thinking of living in Plen. I am still wearing the red bandana. Mom cut it so that it fits a little better. It helps keep stuff out of my eyes, and Tig says it makes me look mysterious.
Tig voices the thought we have both wondered about again. “I wonder why you weren’t killed by the sunfire,” he says.
“Don’t sound so disappointed.”
He chuckles.
I don’t answer his question. I don’t know, either. The white light hasn’t gone away. My days aren’t spent in darkness anymore. Just pure, soft, unrelenting light. I thought it would go away, but it hasn’t yet.
I hear something on the air. It is wings, but they sound big. Too big. “Tig?”
Tig hears it too and hisses. Then I hear him do the rrrrtt that is his chuckle. “Lem.” I feel the wings buffet us as Lem settles down. No dust. That feels great.
“Essie!”
“Illiana?” I step forward, one arm stretched out. Illiana races up to me and tackles me with a big hug. We both lose our balance and fall over in the new grass.
“I knew you would make it!” she yells. I feel Lem step up and nuzzle us both with his warm soft nose.
“Hey, short stuff.”
I laugh and push myself into a sitting position. “No, you didn’t. You thought I was a goner.”
“Oh, yeah, I guess I did.” Illiana’s voice drops, and she grabs my hand. “I am so sorry, Essie, I didn’t think you would have to face the daemon. I didn’t know what to do. And then the queen—” she breaks off.
“It’s okay. Is the queen pretty mad?” I ask. I feel Illiana squeeze my hand and Lem nuzzles my shoulder.
“Kind of,” Illiana giggles. “I mean, she had me thrown in prison and then banished me, so yeah.”
My mouth falls open. “No way!”
“Yeah, it was pretty much awful. But then during my trial my public advocate said I didn’t do anything technically illegal except open a wave portal, and that wasn’t that bad. The council wanted me in the deeps. The queen talked them into banishing me instead, so here I am.”
“Banished!” My mouth is still open.
“Yeah, but it’s okay. I think the queen did us a favor. We kind of got to be friends with King Mactogonii while he was in Aeola, and he said we were always welcome in the Kingdom of Mar. We’re going to see if he needs a couple of messengers or something.” Illiana grabs my other hand. “Isn’t that neat? We’re going to be in the same Kingdom! I can come visit you lots, and we can go flying with Lem and—”
“Illiana—” I try to interrupt.
“And Tig can come. I was thinking about a special saddle that he could really get a grip on—”
“Illiana—” I try again.
“And I really want to meet your parents! You said your dad was a champion back in the day right?”
“Illiana!” I yell, but I am laughing again.
“What?” she asks. She’s not at all out of breath.
“I’m moving to the palace, too. Dad’s taken the post of First Champion again. We’re moving this week.” I think the whole kingdom can hear Illiana’s shriek.
“You’re both acting ridiculous,” intones Tig loftily from off to my right.
I reach out and grab him by the scruff of the neck and drag him into my lap. He hates that. “And you,” I cup my hands around his face, which he also hates, “are acting like such a cat!”
Gratitude
Over the years several employers have subsidized Essie’s story during lunch breaks, coffee breaks, snack breaks, scribbling breaks, doodling breaks, and writing breaks. Thank you.
To all those cats I have known and fondly scratched behind the ears, you lent this story much in the way of character and personality. Even though you don’t care about me saying it, "Thank you.”
Ethan. I appreciate your confidence and support. Among other things you helped as both a fire wielder and cat-wrangler.
Lucia and George. Thank you for the advance read, plot feedback, and for championing the story.
Daniel. You’ve had to listen to my stories since the beginning. Most were awful. And then I broke your foot. Thanks for sticking it out.
Mom. Thanks for reading and editing and encouraging, every time.
Papa. Thanks for insisting that character matters and on “yes ma’am” and for valuing and telling stories.
My wife. You believed in me before there was anything much to believe in. You always made it possible to write. Thanks for listening and reading, again and again.
And to you, my readers. I
t’
s a perilous business stepping out and reading a new author. Thank you for taking that risk.
About the Author
Parker is a scribbler and storycrafter who grew up on a cattle ranch in Southwestern New Mexico, married a wood nymph from the foothills of the Smokey Mountains, and now follows two happy and endlessly curious little boys from one adventure to another.
He has several C. S. Lewis books on his shelf and reads J. R. R. Tolkien at every opportunity. He loves whimsical Mole, kind Rat, and wise Badger in
The Wind in the Willows
. He also thinks John R. Erickson, Brandon Mull, and Andrew Peterson are great writers with excellent books.
Now you know a little more about the author. Not everything. Because you don’t know about his first dog Toby, his having the top bunk as a kid, or about the time he ran away from home with a red wagon (he got hungry and came back at suppertime).
He loves to hear from readers and is known to enjoy old-fashioned handwritten letters. You can visit him at www.psbroaddus.com to find the latest contact information, behind the scenes clips from
A Hero’s Curse,
and lots of cool illustrations.
It
takes a team
to publish a book.
The Burke Writers League
reviewed much of the story, honing,
encouraging and editing. The good folks
at the National Federation of the Blind, Writer’s
Division, offered great feedback on the first several
chapters. Our many Kickstarter backers supported and
shared. Lisa Rojany, editor, believed, chopped, refined,
and polished. Illustrators Rebecca Weaver and Danny
Kundzinsh brought passion and color. Elizabeth
Crislip infused life and laughter as Essie in
audio production. Nikki Georgacakis
demonstrated her immense skill
in e-book layout and design.
So you see, it really
does take a
village.