Cursed

  Cursed

  Cursed Magic Series: Book One

  Casey Odell

  Copyright 2012 by Casey Odell

  Smashwords Edition

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2012 Casey Odell

  Editing by Caitlin Carpenter

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  To my mom and dad for always believing in my crazy dreams.

  1

  Every woman dreams of a marriage proposal, except when it came pounding on the door in the middle of night. They weren’t odd for her; her mother, that is. In fact, they were a rather regular occurrence.

  Claire Tanith stood at the bottom of a narrow flight of stairs in her dark kitchen and yawned. Her mind and body begged her to march right back up those steps and crawl back into bed. She really hadn’t gotten enough sleep for this.

  Orange light bounced off tired hazel eyes. A lone candle burned on the thick pine table to her left, half burned down. Small and simple, the table served its purpose. The worn edges told of countless late nights spent telling tales and sharing gossip between mother and daughter over their evening meals. The tiny kitchen had been one of the few private spaces they could escape to after long hours of working in the tavern.

  She’d gotten dressed in a hurry after her mother stormed into her room, slipping a white shirt and tan linen slacks onto her petite frame before following the older woman downstairs. The night was warm, causing a restless sleep. She stifled another yawn. Her fingers had just finished off a quick braid in her long brown hair when the sight of her mother darting around the room caught her attention.

  That was odd.

  She perked up as her eyes quickly scanned the dim room for any threat. Nothing. Everything seemed normal. She sighed and put her hands on her hips. She just wanted to get this over with already. Mother was usually able to handle them on her own and Prince Kael still waited for her upstairs, ready to whisk her away on yet another adventure. It had been a good dream too.

  “Mom, what is going on? You know I don’t like dealing with those drunks.”

  As a lone mother and daughter team, they were just trying to make a living like everyone else in Stockton and were doing fine on their own, running and maintaining a small but thriving tavern called the Blazing Stallion. They lived comfortably, though not rich by any means. But that didn’t stop men from trying to convince them that they needed taking care of. No matter how many marriage proposals came her way, mother always refused. But then they’d just end up coming back later on, their pride damaged and their senses drunk, to make fools of themselves.

  Her mother, Marion, was the target of many men in Stockton, and every now and then a traveler or two, led astray by the legendary fiery maiden. More often than not already married or betrothed. Her youthful beauty had not faded with age-- though still considered young by many as a woman in her middle thirties-- it had only grew more refined and elegant. But her spirit was as fiery as a phoenix, an unusual trait in their small town. And very irresistible. Though not everyone in town thought so. She had always been fiercely independent, however, and her pride just wouldn’t let her give in to their proposals. Unless, of course, he was tall, dark, and handsome. Then she’d talk, she would always say.

  The thick door to her right that separated the living quarters from the tavern was closed tight, as usual. Mother drew the curtain above the kitchen sink, plunging the room into almost complete darkness. Her deep red locks were piled in a mess on top of her head and a dark cloak was thrown over a long white nightgown. Marion ignored her question, came around the small island in the middle of the kitchen and shoved an object into her hands. It was the dagger she kept underneath her bed in case of emergencies, light and worn with use and old age. Strange, since she’d never bothered to take it out before; in fact, Claire couldn’t remember the last time her mother used it.

  “Take this,” she said in a hushed voice and threw a long dark cloak across Claire’s shoulders. Her hands shook as she tied the strings closed around her neck. “Stay close to me and keep in the shadows as much as you can.”

  “What are you talking about?” The first hint of fear struck her then.

  She couldn’t figure out what had gotten her mother so spooked. The only time she’d ever seen Mother scared was when Claire had gotten lost in the woods when she was about ten. The look seemed foreign on her face and it was immediately followed by the scariest look she’d ever seen. Needless to say, Claire never got lost in the forest again. She happened to value her life, no matter how mundane it may seem at times.

  Claire glanced out the little square window in the door to her left and froze. Fire climbed high into the night sky on top of Mr. Martis’s two-storied home and bakery, the roof just barely visible over the building in between. Her stomach dropped to the floor. Dread crawled across her skin in a cold sweat. Although never too fond of Mr. Martis, he didn’t deserve to see his home burn to the ground. Nobody did.

  Marion grabbed her by the shoulders, her grip forceful, eyes intense. “Do you understand?”

  Claire nodded as her mother pulled the hood up over her head, grabbed her hand and pulled her to the door. She missed what she had said but knew that she wouldn’t repeat herself. Mother hated to repeat herself.

  Quicker than she could think, they slipped out into the narrow alleyway behind their tavern.

  It only took her a moment to realize the situation was much worse than she thought.

  People filled the street, their arms full of various household objects. Terror showed on most of their familiar faces, confusion and tears on others. Mother plunged into the chaos and pushed her way to another narrow alley across the street, pulling her along. Dark and empty, they ran to the end and stopped.

  Smoke hung the air, thick and dense, covering the world in a grey haze. Claire covered her nose and mouth with her free hand, but still it slithered into her lungs. Each breath burned and choked. Sounds were muffled: screams, shouts, footsteps.

  It was just a dream. It had to be. Any moment now, she’d wake up in her bed, safe and warm.

  They turned right onto another street and headed towards the center of town. Though, everyone fled in the opposite direction. She looked up at her mother. It was impossible for her to be lost, but it seemed like they were heading the wrong way. Shouldn’t they be joining the rest of the townspeople? Away from whatever terror they fled?

  Once a bustling marketplace, the center of Stockton was now a burning wasteland. Fire filled the large circular area, emitting a dreadful flickering orange light and heat. Overturned shop stalls and debris littered the ground, provisions dropped by their fleeing owners. A sad looking doll lay in the dirt with half of its ceramic face smashed in, its lone eye left to witness the devastation.

  Marion stopped short, causing Claire to stumble into her. She snapped back to reality then and followed her mother’s gaze into the plaza.

  The Defense Squad, a small, rather ragtag, group of men dedicated to protecting Stockton, had formed a protective line through the center of the big open space. They hid behind overturned wagons and anything else that could serve as a barrier. Being an independent entity not under the protection of a lord or territory, Stockton was left to govern
and, unfortunately, fend for itself. However, the most they ever had to contend with was the rare thief or breaking up petty fights. They even helped out in mother’s tavern occasionally. Finally, they could put all their training to good use, but against what? Who would attack Stockton of all places?

  Marion grabbed Claire by the arm again, her fingers squeezing tight, and slipped into the shadow of a building. Her feet stepped careful and light around a cart, hugging close to the walls. She then ran north along the plaza, quick and swift, desperate to go unnoticed.

  Claire’s eyes wandered over to the men, many that she had once served drinks to, ducked behind their defenses. Every now and then one of them would rise up to shoot an arrow into the growing cloud of smoke. The clang of metal sounded in the distance, mixing with the roar of the fire and shouts of the men.

  A loud crash thundered from the center of the plaza. Claire and her mother stopped dead in their tracks. Chills ran down her back followed by another wave of fear as a large beast burst through the line and impaled a man through the chest with a spear.

  Almost twice the man’s height, the brute’s body was thick and muscular, devoid of armor and smeared dark with mud and other things, things she didn’t want to know about. Instead of legs, the lower half of his body looked like that of a horse, the solid kind used for plowing fields with hooves that could easily crush her head. An ugly scarred face twisted into a snarl as he drove the man to the ground with his weapon.

  Claire’s heart stopped. A centaur. But what was it doing here? She’d only ever read of them in books. Many weren’t even sure they still existed since they kept to the Great Sandren Plains far to the north. But not anymore it seemed. And they didn’t look happy about it.

  Screams rang out through the plaza, echoing through her mind, each one followed by another stab of pain in her chest. Stockton was being invaded by centaurs. It had to be a dream.

  The men scattered as two more beasts charged through the barricade. Smiles flashed across their faces as they chased after the squad as if they were playing some sort of game.

  Shock reverberated throughout Claire’s body. She stumbled back against a wall as her knees threatened to give out. She’d never seen a man get killed before or a centaur. Yet both appeared right before her eyes. She began to panic. This was not a dream. Her mind gave up trying to convince her otherwise and the reality crashed down on her like a wall of bricks.

  Mother jerked her by the arm and pulled her along again, stumbling. Her hand was cold and damp with sweat against her skin. She dipped into another dark alley, leaving the sounds of battle and screaming behind them.

  Claire clutched the dagger tightly to her chest, holding on to it as if it were the last real thing in the world that was crumbling down around her. She lost track of where she was going. Images become a blur through a wall of tears gathering in her eyes. Everything had been fine earlier. The day was like any other, sunny and warm. How could things have changed so suddenly? Why was the town being attacked?

  The streets were barren, everyone having fled in the opposite direction. Mother no longer stuck to the shadows. Her pace quickened to a full run down the middle of the street.

  Moments later they stood at the northern edge of town. The buildings stopped abruptly along a vast field that stretched out before them. Beyond that was the forest.

  Claire’s chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. Mother stood next to her, her hand still wrapped around Claire’s arm just above her elbow.

  The field was oddly peaceful compared to the chaos behind them, but the forest loomed in the distance, dark and uninviting. She’d never stepped foot in that forest, forbidden by her mother and feared by the townspeople. Many believed it to be cursed, so much so that’s what they started calling it, The Cursed Forest. Children would play games, seeing how far they dared to enter before rushing back out again. Why would Mother take her here when they should have fled with everyone else?

  “You’ll be safe in there.” Mother’s voice was ragged and hoarse. “They’ll protect you.” She pushed Claire away toward the field.

  Claire spun around to look at her mother. Marion stood tall and proud with shoulders back and head held high. Obstinate.

  Her stomach sank as the realization hit her: She didn’t plan to follow. Claire rushed to her mother, grabbed her arm and began to pull her toward the field. She wasn’t sure what she meant by her words, but she wasn’t going to leave her. Not now.

  “What are you talking about? I’m not leaving you here!” Her voice became frantic.

  “Don’t you worry about me,” Mother said calmly and brushed Claire’s hands away. “I’ll catch up with the others.”

  “Then I’ll come with you! I don’t know what you were thinking bringing me here!”

  “No, you mustn’t get caught.” She grabbed Claire by the shoulders. Her voice was fierce, her eyes burned with fear. “Go to the forest, you’ll be safe there.”

  “But--”

  Her mother shoved her away toward the field again. Claire stumbled backwards and fell to the ground, her arms splayed out beneath her to break her fall.

  “Go!”

  A piercing howl cut through the night before her mother could say anything else. A centaur barreled along the edge of town, hooves pounding the earth under him. He was coming for them. Claire looked up at her mother. Why was she sending her to the forest alone? And what did she mean by they? Were there people living in the forest?

  “No matter what happens, just remember that I love you, Claire.” A solemn smile touched her face. “Don’t worry. This ol’ broad can handle a centaur or two.” Then she began to wave her arms in the air to draw the beast’s attention.

  Claire’s voice caught in her throat. She wanted to call out, but the words never reached her lips. All she could do was watch. Watch as her mother turned away to disappear into the town once again. Watch as the beast dipped into an alley further down to follow. Watch as the life she always knew burned to the ground. Her friends, her home, and the only family she had left had suddenly been ripped away from her. It all happened so fast, she wasn’t sure what to do. How to feel.

  A fine tremble spread through her body as she sat unmoving in the field. Tall grass swayed just over her head. Tears started to stream down her cheeks in a sudden rush. She wanted to chase after her mother, but her body was frozen, from fear, from shock.

  Smoke began to seep out onto the moonlit field. The flames from the town flickered against the growing cloud of smoke above in a nightmarish visage.

  Another howl cut through the air. Shook from her trance, Claire scanned the field. A centaur stood several paces to the west.

  Not knowing what else to do, she decided to follow Mother’s instructions and began to crawl towards the forest. She grabbed the dagger and kept her head down, careful not to disturb too much of the grass around her. The earth was cool beneath her hands and knees. The grass rustled softly in her ears as she pushed her way through.

  Wet drops fell onto her hands, the tears falling silently from her eyes. She had tried not to cry. She wanted to be strong, like her mother, but the stress proved to be too much. Everything was happening too fast. She felt helpless. Weak.

  “Is tha little bird tryin’ ta escape?” boomed a deep voice from behind her.

  All the muscles in her body froze as stiff as a board. She hadn’t heard the beast approach. Slowly, she turned her head to look over her shoulder. The centaur loomed above her with a smirk across his lips. Everything about him screamed ‘thick’: thick body, thick neck, thick accent. He carried a bow in one hand and an arrow in the other, which he tapped against his shoulder. His upper body was dark and glistened wet in the moonlight; she wasn’t sure she wanted to know with what.

  She gulped as she turned to face the brutish creature. Her body collapsed to the ground and she sat motionless, her arms quivering beneath her. This was it, she was caught. She’d never imagined that she would die this way. And so soon after Mother had left
her too. She would be so proud. She waited quietly at his mercy. She wouldn’t stand a chance if she ran.

  The centaur threw back his head and laughed, his long black hair sweeping across his bare shoulders. She waited, watching the large beast with wide, terrified eyes. She sure didn’t find her situation all that funny.

  “Let’s have a little fun, shall we?” he said with a hint of amusement. “Tha hunt is much more excitin’ than a massacre.” He pointed the arrow in his hand at her, the sharp metal tip inches away from her face. “You’ll live if ya can escape from me. If not, I’ll have my fun.”

  Something dripped off the arrow onto her knee and she jerked away. He drew the tip up to his mouth to lick the dark liquid, then closed his eyes for a moment as if to savor it.

  “I’ll even give ya a head start,” he said before he swung the arrow down. She rolled out of the way as the tip dug into the ground next to her. The beast’s laugh filled the air once more.

  Claire struggled to her feet and ran to the forest, the blade clasped tightly in her hands. The laugh seemed to follow her, cling to her, to torture her just that much more. A sudden burst of energy took over, the need for survival burning through her veins. This was her chance to get away. She had to survive if she wanted to see her mother or her friends or any of the townspeople ever again. She just had to.

  She entered the forest, curse be damned. Her luck couldn’t be any worse than it was already. Moonlight filtered in through the treetops, giving just enough light to barely see the dark outlines of the trunks as she wove her way through them. She feared what may wait in the forest, but feared the centaur more.

  Her body fought to keep up the furious pace. The pain in her side spread through her chest and lungs as air ripped down her throat. Each step seemed heavier than the last, but her feet carried her out of sheer will. The ground began to slope up; just one more thing to make the run for her life a little more difficult.