The Curse of the Blessed

Chapter Twenty-Three

The next few days were filled with hour after hour of walking. Sometimes a short conversation would start, or someone would point out a pretty bit of scenery, or someone would joke about something—but mostly we just focused on putting one foot in front of the next.

As we went forward, my mind wandered to many places. Still, no matter what, it always found its way back to the Magician. We were going to have to fight him. I wasn't sure I was ready for that. Yes, my mother and village were counting on me, and yes, my friends believed in me—but I wasn't so sure I believed in myself. I was afraid, and I was ashamed of being so.

Occasionally, I'd steal a glance at the faces of my companions. Lark was usually looking at the sky, or the trees, face full of wonder for the beauty around her. Reed had his usual expression, so I had no idea what he was thinking. As for Bran, his emotions seemed to change constantly throughout the day—sometimes annoyed, sometimes happy, sometimes very, very bored—yet I never saw fear in his eyes.

Why was I afraid if no one else was? It felt silly, like being scared of the dark. Even when Lark noticed my expression and asked if I was all right, I simply shrugged and kept walking, too embarrassed to admit it to her. To anyone.

I looked forward to the days that would come once we'd defeated the Magician. Everything would be simpler then. We could go back home, where the village would now accept us. I could put my fear behind me.

When we came to a large hole in a cliff face, lined with slick, black stone that sparkled in the sunlight, I felt a leap in my belly—adrenaline and anticipation twisting around each other until I felt slightly sick.

"Is this it?" Bran asked. "Does the Magician live there?"

"Yes," said Reed.

Lark walked forward, sweeping a hand gently across the stone. "It's beautiful, in its own way."

Bran laughed. "It's creepy more than anything else. Clearly he wanted to try to keep people away."

"You don't think a cave like this would make them more likely to want to explore?" I asked.

"No way." Bran shook his head. "Just imagine going in there with a torch and a few friends. The surface is probably reflective, so you'll be jumping at the sight of phantom selves the whole way."

"It's slippery, too," said Lark. "We'll have to watch our step when we go in."

We all turned to Reed.

"So?" Bran asked. "Are we going in?"

"Not tonight."

"Fine with me," said Bran. "Why not, though?"

Reed looked up at the sky. "The sun'll be behind the trees soon. It'll be dark, and we'll be tired. Better to rest and tackle it in the morning."

"Okay," Lark said with a shrug, turning away from the cave. "So we set up camp here?"

Reed shook his head. "What if the Magician comes out and stumbles over us? We'll be done for."

"Not necessarily," said Lark, "but I see your point. There was a clearing a little under a mile back. We can camp there."

"Great." Reed turned to Bran and me. "You're both good with that?"

Bran shrugged.

"I think so," I said.

We began to walk.

"So why haven't we ever learned that the Magician lives in a cave?" asked Bran.

Lark shrugged. "I dunno. I doubt many people have investigated."

A sly grin curled Reed's lips. "You don't think it's because the town would rather have us die finding out than put themselves in danger by taking a look for themselves?"