The Book of Trials || ONC 2019

Chapter Twenty

Miss Mylda's humorless laugh sent a chill up my spine. That was what I could only assume was a bad first reaction to seeing the cursed book lying on the table between us.

Maestus had shown us around the labyrinthine puzzle that was the Meeker House, sweeping across every room and hallway with shocking ease before settling us all into what appeared to be an old-fashioned tea parlor. There, I'd unlatched my knapsack and slapped the leather book down on the table with a fervor that surprised even me. I was excited, of course, to finally be in the presence of magicians to break the curse, but I also believed that somewhere in my paranoid mind, I was terrified of the possibilities.

While Miss Mylda gave many mixed reactions to the outward appearance of the cursed book, Maestus, who was perched stoutly next to her, muttered its Latin title to himself before rubbing his chin and leaning back on the couch. Jaren stood silently but with apparent interest near the corner of the room; Evyne, Atlas, and Lefeli sat around me on either side, letting off a nervous aura of their own. Finally, Maestus spoke.

"The carving on the front, exsecratus, means 'cursed,' if you didn't know." He flipped open the cover with no hesitation and nodded once, though I wasn't sure what he meant by it. "And I presume these are each verses of this curse in the form of a Latin poem?" He looked to his mother for confirmation and she smiled wisely.

"Very good, Maestus. In addition, I believe this is a dark magic curse, meaning that the Meekers aren't able to aid you in breaking it since we all practice potion brewing, which is not a dark magic. However, I happen to know of somebody who I'm confident will be able to help you." She whispered something to Maestus, then stood up slowly and made her way to Jaren, whispering to him also. Watching the secrecy of it all made me twitch with anxiety, but when I caught a glimpse of the calmness on Miss Mylda's face, I tried to settle down. I'd been living with the book's curse for close to a month, now. I wouldn't let it unnerve me now.

I jumped as Miss Mylda snapped back around and snatched the book off the table, rifling through its pages. She read the passages—lines in a poem?—almost furiously until she got to the most recent entry. Her eyes narrowed, then she clapped the book shut. "I won't tolerate a curse on my household, Veia dear, and that's just what this book has done. Since arriving, another verse has appeared: 'The magicians' wands will snap and falter,' which indicates that the curse reacts to your surroundings." She placed the book back on the table and tapped her fingers. I only gaped at her words. "Jaren, please go with her to have Firhetya dispel it."

She pulled me to my feet, tucked the book into my bag, and shooed me out into the hallway with Jaren in a stern, matronly way. The woman smiled as she batted us away and out the door, closing it with a click, and opening it again a second later. She peeked her head out, a strand of her wispy gray hair falling from its place in her bun. "And be back before dark, would you? The night is dreadfully cold this time of year and I wouldn't want to have to send Maestus out to get you."

"Yes, Ma'am." Jaren bowed slightly and swept me off down the path to where a spotted gray horse waited for us as if summoned by magic—which was probably true, now that I thought about it.

Jaren helped me mount, ever the gentleman, and hopped up behind me, then we were off down the street.

I tried not to focus too much on Jaren's close proximity, his lean arms on either side as he held the reins, so I focused instead on the colors that painted the sky. For now, it was a pale blue, but I could see the hints of orange and pink blushing on the horizon from the nearing sunset. I shivered. For many unspoken reasons, I, like Miss Mylda, also wanted us back before dark.

The ride continued in a perpetual—but not uncomfortable—silence. Jaren found a way to make it pleasant without conversation, but I couldn't help the creeping thoughts of the dark magician we were going to meet. Images played across my mind again of the poison sellers and otherworldly beasts thrashing at us through the bars of their cages. What if this Firhetya was like my imagination feared him to be? No, Jaren and Miss Mylda were good people. If they were magicians, then my hometown must have been wrong to say magic was the work of the devil; these people were no monsters—or monster summoners, for that matter. I'm sure Firhetya was an honorable magician.