The Curse of the Blessed

Chapter Seven

Fear fizzled in the air as we waited for the arrival of the town elders. The innkeeper watched us like a hawk all the while. Reed lowered his forearm beneath the table, scribbling something, and Bran moved closer to him, meaning to try and give him a power boost if necessary.

Lark had a clear view of the front door. Her eyes were wide as she stared at it. A slight, nearly unnoticeable trembling of her lower lip betrayed her fear.

She jumped as Reed carefully set a hand on her shoulder.

"It'll be okay," he said. "We won't let them hurt you."

For a split second, I wondered what their history was. They'd come together to save Bran at the market, and the bond between them seemed deep, almost like that of siblings—though I knew for a fact that they weren't related. They'd worked together like it was nothing. Like it was easy.

Footsteps startled me from my thoughts. The door swung open, hinges squeaking in protest at the sudden movement. Four men and two women entered.

Reed moved his hand off of Lark's shoulders. He stared the newcomers down, defiance in his gaze, accompanied by a pristine calm. He reminded me of someone again, though I still couldn't pinpoint who.

"What do you want?" he asked.

One of the women stepped forward. Her silver hair was swept into a tight bun, and her hand played across the dagger at her belt. "I'm Elder Brona," she said. "My companions are the other Elders of the town. We'd like to know why you're here."

"We need food," said Lark. Her voice shook slightly, but other than that, she hid her fear well. "Our village sent us out on a quest to break the curse on our town, but they didn't have the resources to give us proper provisions—or much money."

"And you planned to steal what you needed?"

Lark glared at Elder Brona. "No. We planned to offer work in exchange for food."

"You can ask your innkeeper," I said. "Lark went to him first, to ask whether or not anyone needed work done."

One of the younger men in the group turned to the innkeeper. "Is this true?"

"Yes."

"Hmm," said Elder Brona. "In that case, we both have something the other needs."

"And what would that be?" Reed asked.

"You need food, and we can give it to you. You have powers." She paused for a moment, brow creasing. "Some of the farmers on the outskirts of town have been reporting crop damages, caused by ghostlike creatures that cannot be injured with any weapon. Or, at least, not any weapon that we have."

"You want us to kill them?" Bran asked.

"Yes," said Elder Brona.

Reed narrowed his eyes at her, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "And what do we get out of it? You say you'll give us food, but how do we know you won't simply turn us away once we've done the job?"

"Reed," said Lark, her tone warning. She turned to Elder Brona. "He doesn't mean to be disrespectful."

The old woman smiled warmly. "It's a perfectly good question. But we won't betray you."

"Prove it," Bran said.

I shifted nervously in my seat and began to gently cast out my senses. Four of my birds were nearby, ready to come to our aid if things began to go downhill.

"We aren't stupid," said Elder Brona. "We know your powers could beat our weapons any day. It would be all too easy for you to simply take what you wanted."

"But we wouldn't do that," said Lark.

"No. But we know you could, and so we know that—even if we betrayed you—you could take your provisions from us."

"Good," said Reed, a slow smile spreading across his face, though his eyes were still cold. "I'm glad you understand."

Elder Brona walked over to where he sat. She held out her hand for him to shake. "Do we have a deal?"

"We do," said Reed. They shook.

"What are your names?" Her gaze passed over us one by one. "You're all very young."

"I'm Fyra," I said.

"Reed," said Reed.

"My name's Lark," said Lark, and she held out her hand to Elder Brona, who gently-but-firmly shook it.

We all turned to Bran expectantly. He hesitated.

"That's Bran," I said.

Bran scowled.

Elder Brona nodded. "It's good to meet you all."

"So," said Reed, "what exactly do you want us to do?"

"The ghosts come out at night. You'll want to go to one of the outlying farms, wait for them to appear, and follow them until you come to the place they originate from. Then—if you are able—destroy them."

"Easy enough," said Reed. "Is there a catch?"

"Not that we're aware of."

"Good," I said. "Short and simple. I like it."

Bran rolled his eyes at me. Lark's lips curled into a half-smile. Reed ignored the comment completely.

"Can we stay here until it's time to go?" he asked.

"Yes," said Elder Brona. "Just don't cause any trouble." She turned to the innkeeper. "If they get into any mischief, send word immediately."

"We'll do our best to stay out of everyone's way," Lark said.

"Thank you," said Elder Brona. "Now, if there aren't any questions, we have other matters to attend to."

Ghosts! Spooky! Please vote, or I will have to send a ghost to haunt you for all of eternity. Mwahahaha. (Not really, though)