Cursed was originally written for (and won!) the Break A Spell Contest over at The Brassbright Chronicle. As part of winning that contest, the amazing
produced a recorded version of the story, which you can listen to above.You can find the printed story republished below, or at The Brassbright Chronicle here: https://www.brassbrightcity.com/break-a-spell-contest-the-stories/
(Image credit: Alexander Jawfox via Unsplash)
The feeling of thousands of beetles crawled under Kieran Grimhart’s skin. Sweat beaded his gummy forehead and his outstretched hand shook the coins it contained – a sum only seen in this part of town for nefarious needs.
“Tha’s triple reagent prices, even on the underground market,” Kieran said, his body threatening to give up with each word. “Instant cast’ll do, Heaven’s Kiss perhaps, or Wrenlynn’s Comfort, even. Wha’ever you got, girl.”
The elf considered him in the dark of the alley, however, it didn’t take the advanced eyesight of an elf to reveal the addict. She supposed he, like many worn adventurers, had gotten a taste of healing magics through countless delves in every darkened corner of the world.
“You know as well as I what your people do to those with the gifts of the clerical order,” she said. “I am not cursed with such gifts.”
“Word on the street says otherwise.”
“And what does word say about you, Kieran Grimhart? Men like you – rats of the Cleansing Dawn sniffing out fuel for the stake. Though, I wonder, who is it you truly serve, the Dawn or your own insatiable affliction?”
She moved to pass but Kieran launched himself at her, pinning her against the stone wall. Though she stood a full head taller than him, his strength overpowered hers greatly, and she struggled beneath his grip. He brought a ruddy knife to her throat, and she froze.
“It didn’t have t’go like this,” he scowled. “You could have jus’ taken the coin.”
“What then?” Ashra spat. “I told you I don’t heal.”
“Godssworn, you’ll cast it on me or find yerself dead, by my hand or the Dawn’s.”
She glared at him and remained silent, the oily smell of his addiction permeating the air between them.
“Please,” he said, his aggression lessening, his grip weakening. Tears welled in his eyes. “Please, help me. You don’t know what it’s like to lose ev’rything and still crave it. I never wanted this, this… curse your like have placed upon me.”
“This curse is your own, it lived in you from the day you were born. There is nothing in this world that will save you from yourself.”
He wrenched her forward and slammed her against the wall, the stone thwacking against her skull. Her vision swam so much it turned her stomach.
“Go on then,” she said, “kill me, or take me to the Dawn. You won’t get what you want either way.”
He regarded her momentarily, then backed away until bumping against the far wall and sliding to the ground.
“Get out of here,” he barked through tears. “Leave me.”
Ashra hurried down the alley, it had taken everything in her to not give in, and she pitied him even though she knew he would happily see her burn at the stake. She looked back at Kieran, and promised herself she would pray for him.
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