"Arabian Nights"
Part 62
by Beryll
"You believe that a curse is much easier woven then dispelled. This is true in one way as a curse will always hold part of the weaver's heart. His hatred, his pain, his malice will be bound into a curse, strengthening its weave. So to dispe] it you will have to pour just as much of yourself into your unweaving. Your heart will have to match the dark in the weaver's heart with light. You will have to put all your believe into unweaving a curse or you will fail."
"Yes, master."
"However - there is one exception. That is if the curse was woven without hatred or malice. This will often be the case if it was made by a witch who merely produced it, mechanically, without much attention. Such a curse is easily dispelled as it holds only enough power to achieve its goal but none to defend itself. As a druid, you are charged with furthering the well-being of those in your care. If you come across a curse you should at the very least investigate it. If it is a weak curse such I described it is your duty to unmake it. Do you understand, William?"
"Yes, master."
"Do you understand, William?!"
"Yes, master?"
"Then why do you rest and laze here when there is work to be done?"
The voice of Billy's master slowly faded from his clouded mind. He found himself floating in a blue haze, he was not sure where he was or what had happened to him but he assumed it was some kind of test. His master had put him in trances before to enable him to speak with spirits or find truths.
Even though he appeared to float like a feather on a breeze his limbs seemed impossibly heavy. Even opening his eyes was an effort and when he finally managed it nothing much changed, his vision was still clouded by the oppressive bluish haze, choking him, trying to drown out his senses.
'Work to be done...', his master's words echoed in his mind.
Then he noticed it. The foul stench assaulting his sense the burning sensation in his eyes. Now, paying closer attention, he noticed glyphs swimming in the haze, twirling and dancing, twisting in on themselves, almost too painful for the eye to observe.
With a pain-filled groan Billy forced himself to his feet. The duty of a druid was to investigate, no matter how bad he felt. He would not fail this test.
With his senses he reached out, feeling the weave of the curse, tasting it on his tongue, listening to its cadence. Intricate, beautiful, masterful - but void. There was no emotion whatsoever in the curse's make-up. Empty, its tendrils lay before Billy, drawing him to its centre.
Taking careful steps, so as not to trip over any traps that might lie hidden in the mists Billy followed the pull of his instincts. Each single step shot a spear of pain through his guts and he briefly wondered why his master had to make this so hard for him. Obviously it was not merely a test of his skills but a test of his dedication too.
Slowly he made his way closer to the whirling nest of glyphs that coiled around the curse's victim.
Then he realized what the real test was. The curse was almost complete, it was a killing spell, not merely some simple bad luck charm, and already the soul was tearing lose from the body it had inhabited, already Billy saw it hovering above the body like a shred of silver mist in the oppressive blue of the curse, twisting and agonized, trying in vain to free itself.
Immediately Billy's training kicked in, the urgency of the situation overruling his own pain. His hands moved as he tore at the curse's weave with brute force. No time for finesse or gentleness now. Harshly he broke the chains of glyphs binding the body, ripped them off and destroyed the glyphs themselves for good measure.
With one last shriek the weave fractured, now unraveling on itself, leaving behind it the confused silver mist of a soul caught in between. Billy wouldn't have known how to aid it as his training had not yet progressed that far, but to his immense relief the soul seemed to be strong enough to cope on its own as it sank back into the body which was now becoming visible through the receding haze. With deep satisfaction Billy watched as it seeped into the body, taking up residence again. His satisfaction increased as the chest of the man he could now discern lying on a low bed rose, with a deep, powerful breath pumping air back into starving lungs.
What confused him was that the room didn't then fade from his vision as it normally did when he had completed one of his master's tests. Instead it seemed to grow more solid with each passing second, the bluish haze was now barely visible. He could even see other people in the room, all of them around the bed and staring at him wide-eyed and unbelieving.
Then the man on the bed began coughing violently as his body shook off the last residue of the curse, returning to its natural state of being. Immediately everybody's attention returned to him, all of them flooding the room with intense feelings of joy, overwhelming Billy's senses. He shut down his second sight as quickly as he was able.
And then he gasped in pain and crumpled to his knees as he realized that the pain which had been dully throbbing through his body the entire time was not an illusion but very real and was tearing through him - like claws ripping him open.
With the pain came the memories. His village burning, screams, fighting, death. So much death, so many of his people dying. Then pain as someone hit him over the head.
Then there was the confusion of waking up in unfamiliar surroundings, of seeing a man with a large brimmed hat and moustache peering down at him curiously, touching him in places which were forbidden. The strength of panic, mixed with rage, lancing through him as he called on the gods to avenge his people, as he called down fire and lightning in his despair, completely ignoring his inability to control such powers.
The last thing he remembered was his world turning bloody red - and then the darkness.
This was no test, this was reality. He was here, in this room, hurt, alone, helpless in his pain.
He hugged himself, trying to keep the pain inside, trying to protect himself from whatever they were going to do to him.
When arms suddenly wrapped around him he tried to shrink in on himself, tried to make himself even smaller. But the arms didn't hurt him, didn't threaten him.
"You saved him!"
A voice so exuberant with joy and boundless gratitude that Billy couldn't doubt the good intentions of its owner. Looking up he met a pair of chocolate eyes full of happy tears.
Then there were more arms wrapping around him, each and every person in that room obviously bent on somehow expressing their happiness, their deep gratitude to him.
"Thank you!"
"May Allah bless you!"
"He's alive!"
"Thank you!"
Their joy swept over Billy like a tidal wave, washing away all of the fear and leaving behind only confusion and the lingering pain.
The tumultuous show of thankfulness was interrupted by a dry but amused voice from the bed.
"Could someone explain to me why you are all trying to squeeze that poor boy to death and why my mouth tastes as though a rat has died in it?"
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go to PART 63