Cursed (Watty Awards 2012 Short Story)

Chapter Two

The drawbridge moans under Tess's boots. Sebastian perches on the rusty chain railing, watching her every step. “More to the left,” he says.

Tess keeps her head down, listening to his instructions. She licks her chapped lips nervously, testing each footstep with her weight.

Out of the corner of her eye, a skeleton hand bobs in the moat. A groan escapes the back of her throat.

Sebastian urges her forward, but she can't look away from the bony fingers draped in algae. He lands a few feet in front of her boots. He taps a claw, then says, “All love sick kitchen maids must proceed to the front door.”

Tess shakes her head, certain the next move will send her through the drawbridge and into the murky waters beading with skulls.

He lets out a sigh, “Those bones are of no consequence. The real danger is inside...if I ever get you there.”

“The dragon?” she whispers.

“Actually I was referring to your true love—but yes, the fire breathing dragon, too. And if he pokes even one nostril out the window, we'll be dead before we hit the water!”

Tess remains a petrified statue.

He sniffs the air. “No royal is worth our lives,” he concedes. “From what I've seen, your Prince is hardly the 'tough-it-out-and-survive-at-any-cost-type'.” He gives her a sideways glance. “I have my doubts about this match. You're honest and hard working. He's deceitful and lazy.”

She lifts her face and stares at him hard. Her pulse quickens.

Sebastian continues unfazed, “All royals are spoilt, but some of them try to make amends before it's too late.”

“Too late?” Her voice is no longer a scared whisper.

“Before they're captured by a vengeful dragon, of course. Do you think your golden boy was only taken for his good looks?”

Tess makes a grab for him. He squawks in surprise, and backs up. She marches forward, ignoring the crackles beneath her feet, pointing her finger like a spear, “Prince Bryant is not spoilt.”

He unfurls his wings and bows, “I absolutely agree. Taking whatever you want regardless of the impact on others is a completely honorable trait.”

Tess's face grows red. “He's always been kind to me,” she defends.

“Just because he's spoilt doesn't mean he's inept.” He reads her confused expression, then explains, “I've brought you this far for the sake of true love. Imagine what I'd do for a kiss.”

Her mouth opens and closes a few times, but no sound comes out.

“That's a compelling argument, my lady,” he says, sounding bored.

She lunges for him again, “You miserable...cynical...unfeeling—”

“You're welcome!” He waves a black wing toward a massive oak door.

Tess blinks, then turns around and sees she has crossed the bridge safely. “Oh,” she says a bit sheepishly. She tiptoes through the warped door and into the castle.

The size of the foyer hints at a prior spectacular existence. However the dilapidated structure reeks of neglect and decay. Tess wrinkles her nose. 

Sebastian rests on one of the higher steps of a grand staircase. He picks up a stone with his beak, then flings it across the room. “I may be many things, my lady,” he says. “But unfeeling is not one of them. Indeed, it is a curse to have a human heart inside such a beast as myself.”

Tess has never seen Sebastian so self conscious before. Her heart melts. “You're not a beast,” she says.

He raises a wing to his ear. “Sorry? I didn't quite catch that.”

She bites the side of her cheek, fighting the grin. “You're not a beast,” she repeats louder.

He glides to her shoulder, letting his feathers nestle against her hair, “How can I back a champion who is such a pushover?”

She makes a playful swat, but he's already in the air. “This way, my lady.”

They continue up the winding staircase. Tess has to jump every few steps over gaping holes. When they reach the top floor, she leans against the cool stone wall to catch her breath.

A long corridor is lined on one side with arched openings. Tess imagines exquisite stained glass windows, but now there are only yawning holes, ready to let the wind rip her off her feet, pulling her down to the moat far below.

“Do you think we're getting close?” she asks.

“It doesn't matter,” he says, hollowly. “It already knows we're here.”

Tess feels the hair on the back of her neck stand up. “It can't be much of a dragon if a crumbly castle is his fortress,” she says. Sebastian stays quiet, making her more nervous. Her head turns back toward the staircase. “Did you hear that?”

Sebastian comes out of his daze. He lifts his beak, then pauses for a moment. Without a word, he flies down the corridor, disappearing into the shadows.

Tess reaches inside the rucksack, but all she has is an empty canteen, and a sprig from the blueberry bush. Whatever the dragon has in store for her, she's hardly prepared. She bites her lip and looks down the hallway, staring at the place she last saw his wings. She counts to ten. “Sebastian?” she calls out.

Nothing.

Then she hears the soft beating of wings—lots of wings. Her eyes grow wide. Sebastian's beak screams at her from an advancing black cloud. “RUN!”

Suddenly, it's all around her, suffocating and full of high pitches squeals. It's in her hair, her cloak, against her face. She dare not open her mouth to scream. Sebastian's familiar caw comes through as the mass breaks apart and rises.

He leads her behind a tattered tapestry. She stumbles after, tripping into another corridor. Sebastian shakes himself, losing a few feathers.

A brief squeaking flutters over Tess's head, and out a hole in the roof. She shoots Sebastian a skeptical look and says, “Bats?”

“Flea bitten fiends, you mean.”

Tess raises an eyebrow. “You're scared of bats?”

He tries to smooth his plumage. “Not everything is what it seems, my lady. In these areas, a simple bat could be an ogre is disguise. Do you know how ogres eat their food.”

“How?”

“While it's still screaming.”

Tess ignores his grumbling and studies the tapestry. Some parts are so threadbare she can see right through. She leans closer, squinting at the portrait. She can make out dark eyes, and a black wave of hair beneath what she guesses is a crown.

“Careful, my lady,” Sebastian's voice is so close it makes her jump. “Your swooning is showing. You certainly have a thing for royalty, don't you? Should Prince Bryant be jealous?”

Tess snorts as a reply, but continues to stare at the mysterious face. “Who was he?”

Sebastian lands on her shoulder. “Prince Orion, another spoilt royal. Don't get too attached, he hasn't existed for a hundred years.” He quietly clears his throat. “How does he, er...compare to your golden boy?”

She smiles and says, “Just because I value Prince Bryant's golden curls, doesn't mean I don't appreciate Prince Orion's black hair and handsome eyes.”

His beak grazes her earlobe, “So you're not partial to blonds...that's encouraging.”

Tess huffs and shrugs him off her shoulder. “What I'm partial to has nothing to do with—”

There's a faint groan followed by the blast of a scream. Tess's breath catches in her throat. “Prince Bryant!” she says.

She runs down the corridor toward a door, it's faint outline, blazing with fire.