Curse You



  Curse You

  By Armada Volya

  Copyright Armada Volya 2014

  Published by Under Candlelight

  Cover Art by Vincent Volya Russell

  Curse You

  Chapter 1

  Fredrick Kairan looked at the cow before him. It had always had plenty of milk after every calf, but this time the milk had run dry. Steven Glarin had been complaining about this for a few weeks. Although Fredrick thought he knew who was responsible, he couldn't prove it. After all, this was a bad year; the grass was drying out and the grazing fields were more yellow than green.

  But now... now there was a snake.

  In the morning, Steve had seen a snake in the hay by the cow's feet. He had called on Fredrick without delay, and Frederick came – he had to protect his town. No matter how hard they searched the barn, they failed to find the creature. It had simply vanished.

  There had to be devilry in this. The snake wasn't an ordinary one, and it was responsible for the cow's lack of milk. In his mind, Fredrick saw the vile creature slithering over to the cow at night and sucking at its teat – devil's creature. Where was it?

  Giving up on the search, Fredrick came out of the barn, sun glistening on his black hair and drops of sweat beginning to gather on his forehead, despite the early hour. The wet fabric of his shirt hugged Fredrick's broad shoulders. He stood tall, looking over his town, praying to protect it from unholy dangers.

  Fredrick looked down the street to see Jacob working in the yard, watering the plants that were still alive in spite of the drought. He wasn't there when Fredrick first arrived. It was obvious: Jacob was a shape-shifter.

  Jacob had turned into a snake, crawled into the barn, stolen the milk, and when he had been caught, crawled out. But snakes weren't fast enough, and he didn't make it home until after Fredrick's arrival. He wasn't sure he could prove it, but God would do that for him.

  A woman's scream startled Fredrick. He turned to see Mrs. Jackson rushing out of the house with a bundle in her arms. Her eyes met Fredrick's, and she rushed to him. Collapsing on her knees in front of the man who had always protected the town from the devil, she cried an unstoppable, unearthly cry.

  The child's dead face looked as peaceful as if he were sleeping.

  When Mrs. Jackson calmed down enough to speak, she told him about the perfect health of her son, his good appetite, and his sleep of the previous night – a sleep from which he didn't awake.

  Anger grew in Fredrick as he listened to the woman. He saw his wife, his Julie, holding his first-born, Daniel, and then his daughter, Victoria. Julie was due soon – a second son, Fredrick hoped. What would he do if his child died? How awful, how terrifying. This was so wrong, so terribly, terribly wrong. He had to stop this madness.

  Fredrick Kairan knew who was responsible for this child's death: the man who, in the shape of a snake, stole milk from the cow; the man whose crops didn't wither in the dry heat of the summer. Jacob.

  Chapter 2

  Elizabeth gasped when Fredrick, accompanied by two farmers, walked into her small house. She saw their souls, red from fear and anger, float around their bodies. They grabbed her father. He didn't fight.

  They didn't say what his sins were. They never did. It didn't matter. The outcome was always death.

  Jacob looked back, a plea in his eyes. They had talked about this many times. Elizabeth knew what her father wished her to do. Run. Move to the city. Get lost in a crowd. This town was no longer safe.

  She refused to run.

  Elizabeth swallowed past the lump in her throat, remembering the conversation from only days earlier.

  “I can't blame her for leaving,” Elizabeth's father had said when she asked him about her mother. “I wish you'd do the same. Fredrick is dangerous. Promise me that if he comes after me, you'll leave. You can go to the city, find your mother, and start a new life.”

  “Sure,” she had lied.

  How could she leave? Leave and do what? Pretend that nothing happened? Pretend that Fredrick wasn't going to continue killing?

  Elizabeth couldn't fight these men. She couldn't break her father out of the prison, but there was revenge. She had learned of magic, real magic.

  As soon as the door closed behind her father, Elizabeth ran to the cellar and pulled a small jar off the shelf. A small piece of paper and a candle were inside. She had prepared herself for this years ago, even as she swore to her father she would run if the inquisitor came for him.

  She had never told her father this, not wishing to worry him, but her choice was made a long time ago. This small jar was her choice.

  For the rest of the day she cradled the vessel to her chest, occasionally rereading the words on the paper she had kept inside for two years now. There was no room for error. She had to do exactly as the spell commanded. If she misspoke, it would fail, and her life would be wasted.

  She paced the room, looking out the window, waiting for the sun to set. She didn't think anyone would be coming over after her father was arrested; it'd be too dangerous to pay condolences to the daughter of a warlock. Still, she couldn't take any chances. She couldn't be interrupted, and she couldn't speak to anyone until the next morning.

  The last rays of bright red light filtered through the curtain and left Elizabeth in the night's embrace. She opened the jar, read the spell one more time, making out letters under the moon's meager glow, and then set up the candle. She walked around the tiny flame, careful not to put it out, and began chanting, weaving a part of her own soul into the words and feeding it to the fire.

  “The harm to me is harm to you and all your kin and all your blood.”

  The flame leaped, grew larger, consuming the wax in half the time it should have. Elizabeth watched the candle burn in silence, watched energy, the soul of fire, glide through the air and hug her body. She sensed the reassurance of the spell, its protection.

  With a needle Elizabeth pricked her finger and let one drop of blood fall on the flame just as it was about to die. The wick hissed, and the last of the energy that smelled and tasted of vengeance came to Elizabeth.

  It was done – a puddle of melted wax left to tell the story of the ritual performed. This revenge would cost her dearly, but for the sakes of all those who had been burned by Fredrick Kairan – for her father's sake – Elizabeth was ready.

  Chapter 3

  The warlock was ready to burn at the stake, wood piled high under his feet. He said he never did any magic; that would be seen soon enough. If Jacob was truly innocent, God would save him. Fredrick Kairan would certainly be satisfied with the Lord's judgment of this man.

  Jacob had said he was a healer, using herbs to help, but why then had Jackson's baby died in its sleep? Why had the village had a drought this summer and lost its crops while Jacob's crops hadn't withered? And who, disguised as the snake, drank milk from Steve Glarin's cow?

  There was no one else who could've done it. People of the town knew it, too. They all wanted justice for the death of the newborn. They all wanted to see the devil's spawn burn.

  Cheers sounded loud as the torch was brought into the square. Everyone was ready for the spectacle. People yearned for justice; they rejoiced at seeing God's work done.

  The fire caught fast, consuming the wood under Jacob's feet. Flames jumped high, distorting the faces behind them into demonic masks. The heat turned an already hot day into a hellish sea.

  A loud scream escaped Jacob as the fire reached and burned him. The scream was so loud that it must have been a demon escaping the mortal shell in an attempt to flee from the righteous fire.

  God helped Fredrick in his work by turning Jacob into a charred carcass, a fitting image for a warlock. Although his death was much too fast, it wasn't the end of his to
rment. He would burn in hell for eternity.

  Fredrick Kairan stood in the middle of the square, in front of the still-glowing embers, admiring his work, inhaling the smell of burned flesh. The square began to empty as people returned to their everyday tasks. Only one person besides Kairan was left: Elizabeth.

  “Murderer.” Her voice was filled with hatred. “You murdered my father. Curse you; curse your body and your soul. Curse your blood for all the generations to come. You think hell is bad? You'll wish you were burning in hell. You will become the monster that you truly are. An abomination on this earth.”

  Fredrick was surprised to hear the venom in the teen's words. He did God's work. Surprise was replaced with concern. She was the daughter of the warlock after all; she too might have the unholy power. She needed to be dealt with.

  Looking around, Kairan saw there was no one to help drag the witch to the dungeon. He could do it himself; she was only a woman, but his body was fatigued, and his head ached. He wanted to rest. Fredrick had done a lot of work for one day.

  Tomorrow. He would get her tomorrow.

  ***

  Julie met Fredrick at the door. Fredrick smiled at her, wondering if he'd be able to withstand seeing all this evil day after day if he couldn't come home to this saintly woman. Julie had brought happiness into his life, and soon she would make him even happier. The baby was due in a month and Fredrick was eager to hold his child – his son, if God answered Fredrick's prayer.

  He had two children already, but Daniel was grown up and Victoria... well, she was a daughter. Fredrick wanted sons to carry on his work; the more sons, the better.

  Pregnancy was hard on Julie; she was pale and weak, yet her eyes were filled with love and care. She asked him how the execution went and smiled when she heard of the result.

  “You should sleep.” Julie brushed her husband's strong jaw with her hand. “You were up all night.”

  Fredrick could only smile when he looked at his lovely wife who was as beautiful as on their wedding day. She was only sixteen then. He had known Julie all his life, of course; she was his aunt's firstborn daughter. Their family had decided they should be wed when they were only children, and they didn't protest. They were in love.

  Smiling at his memories, Fredrick thought it was time to go to bed indeed, but sleep was hard to get. For the first time in his life, he didn't tell Julie everything. She was so pale, so sick. For a few days now, she hadn't been doing well. He didn't want to worry her by speaking of that ridiculous girl, Elizabeth, and the ugly words she had said.

  Deciding he had done the right thing, Fredrick took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let his body fall into peaceful slumber.

  ***

  The sun was setting when Fredrick woke up. He walked through the house, making his way to the kitchen to find Julie. When he got to the door and looked in, he found her sitting at the kitchen table, arms wrapped around her belly and pain marring her face.

  “How are you, dear?” Fredrick asked.

  “Oh, my love, it hurts so much. I'm so sick. I hope this child is born soon, because I don't know if I can keep going any longer.”

  “I don't remember you being so ill when you were pregnant with Daniel and Vicky.”

  “I never felt this sick. The pain is unbearable.” There was a heart-wrenching note in her voice.

  “I'll go get the doctor for you.”

  Outside Fredrick was greeted by a beautiful sunset; the cloudy sky was painted red, but its beauty was lost on Fredrick Kairan. The man was too worried for his wife to notice such trifles as the color of the clouds. His mind was churning, trying to think how he could help Julie.

  He was glad he had sent the kids away; Julie was in no shape to care for them, although Vicky might've been useful. She was smart enough to do some of the house work. As he reached Doctor Finch's door, Fredrick decided to write a letter to his sister, asking her to send Victoria back; Dan should stay until the end of the summer.

  Robert Finch had delivered Fredrick's first two children, knew the Kairan family well, and would do his best. Together they rushed back, and the doctor got to work while Fredrick paced around the room, unable to sit still while his wife was in pain.

  “I am afraid the baby won't survive,” Robert Finch reported. “It looks like Julie will miscarry.”

  The red light of sunset illuminated the room, casting shadows and distorting everything. Fredrick's mind tried and failed to grasp the meaning of Robert's diagnosis. “Life,” “save,” “hard,” “danger” – just a collection of sounds when his heart and hopes had just been broken.

  Angry claws dug into Fredrick's heart, tearing it open. He looked up and saw the last ray of red light play on Julie's face. She was half asleep, half delirious. His wife, his son. He was losing them.

  No. He wasn't losing them – they were being taken from him. That witch, Elizabeth, had stolen his son. Her curse did its dirty work. He should have arrested her – burned her with her father.

  Chapter 4

  Light reached Elizabeth's tears, painting them blood red. She lifted her eyes and looked around the room. Rough wooden shelves housed jars and boxes filled with herbs her father had picked. She remembered walking with him through the forest, listening to him talk about illnesses and cures. She had been five when he began teaching her. She was eighteen now and alone.

  When Jacob was taken away, Elizabeth thought she knew what to do – she thought she would avenge him. It didn't work. She said the words she had to; she cursed the man responsible; she opened the door to the curse, but Frederick didn't walk through it. Elizabeth was sure he would – he was just the sort of man who would – but he didn't. Fredrick Kairan had simply listened to her and walked away.

  The girl's face fell into her hands, black hair hanging limply. She searched her own soul, trying to find an answer there – emptiness answered and helplessness slithered to replace the love that had once bloomed in Elizabeth's heart.

  Why did she have this gift if she couldn't even use it to avenge her father? She would try to provoke Fredrick again. She had to. What good would it do to let a monster like Fredrick Kairan go unpunished?

  She sat up straight, straining her ears. Yes, there it was: steps. Quick, loud, angry steps.

  Fredrick ripped the door open and let the night in. Elizabeth saw the fire in Fredrick's eyes, the fire of his inner demon. He didn't speak as he reached her. He roared.

  A large fist connected with Elizabeth's belly, another with her face, then with her temple, sending her to the floor in pain. Her hand rose to her face, trying to protect herself, but she forced it down. She had to fight the overwhelming urge to protect the fragile flesh from Fredrick's ruthless fists. Elizabeth sensed her helplessness and pain feeding the spell, making it stronger, allowing it to send long, black strands into Fredrick's soul.

  A sad smile danced on Elizabeth's broken lips when a blow to the side of the head took away her consciousness.

  ***

  Elizabeth woke up in a dungeon, her whole body throbbing. It was hard to breathe and she couldn't move her left arm. She looked down to inspect herself and found a shredded dress with scraped and bruised skin underneath. Her knees were torn. He must've dragged me by my arm, she thought.

  A tiny chuckle escaped her when she remembered the beating, but her thoughts of vengeance were interrupted by the sound of a door opening. Fredrick stepped into her cell, dark shadows under his eyes and a mix of red and black in his soul. Elizabeth wondered what happened to make him so angry; her telling him that she had cursed him didn't do much; there must've been something else.

  “Did my curse work so fast?” Elizabeth probed.

  “You killed my unborn son,” Fredrick hissed through clenched teeth. There it was, that fire she had seen last night; it filled his eyes and soul yet again.

  She had been right then; Julie's baby didn't make it and the great inquisitor blamed her for it. Why are people always trying to blame magic for all their proble
ms? Fredrick Kairan was going to doom his family by bringing on the curse, but he would blame her for this, too.

  To Elizabeth's own surprise, the thirst for revenge left her and was replaced with sorrow. Fredrick had done it to himself, and he would suffer much. She looked at Fredrick and thought about his kin who too would be affected by the curse. They would pay for Fredrick's sins. She shouldn't have done this, she realized.

  Without Elizabeth's knowledge, this regret changed the spell, making it stronger, stranger, and giving hope of lifting this man's evil stain.

  Chapter 5

  The wood was dry, as it always was. It had to light up fast and feed the holy fire. The two farmers who had taken away Elizabeth's father dragged her to the square and tied her to a pole atop a pile of wood. They cared little for her bruised skin and let the rope bite into fresh wounds. The people of the town watched. They would let her burn. They would watch and do nothing.

  They deserved to feel the terror of the curse.

  For the last time, Elizabeth looked at Fredrick Kairan. “I had cursed you with my tongue and you sealed it with your hands. Do it then; light it up. Let me burn.”

  With his own hands Kairan brought the torch to the pile of wood. She tried to ignore the heat, concentrating on the smoke that surrounded her, remembering how the spell she weaved had clung to her body. It was still there, at least in part. Some of the spell had already started working, paying Fredrick back for the beating.

  She wondered if his miscarried child would be affected by it. She tried to imagine what horrors it would bring, but the fire was getting closer, burning her, choking her. She clenched her jaw, refusing to scream or struggle against the ropes that tore into her wrists.

  She watched flaming tongues grow, crawling closer and closer to her legs. She gasped, inhaling hot air mixed with smoke, and the pain shot through her body.

  Blackness had mercy on her then, claiming her before the fire did.

  Chapter 6

  The day rushed into Fredrick's still-sleepy mind with his wife's scream. He rushed to her side, almost running into Doctor Finch. Julie's belly moved as the infant's tiny hands and feet pushed. God performed a miracle. The child was alive and moving. Julie was giving birth. She cried and held her pregnant belly. Fredrick was eager to see his son, his blessing, his reward for all the hard work he had done for his Lord.