Francis didn’t answer. Instead, he looked over his shoulder at DJ—a silent indication that DJ was the leader. DJ felt the witch’s bulging eyes fix on him. He swallowed, looked around, and cleared his throat.
“Are you—ahem—Ursula the witch?” DJ asked.
“Who’s askin’?”
Francis took over in the diplomacy department. “We’re just a few travelers sent on an errand from Sandy Brambleton. We only seek a brief conversation.”
“Oh, the writer?” Ursula’s tone changed immediately. “Alright, come in then! I thought you were the tax collectors again. Persistent buggers, those ones.”
The peephole slammed shut and the door pulled open to reveal a stereotypical storybook witch. Large eyes, a long hooked nose (complete with wart), a hunched back, and two craggy rows of grinning teeth. Ursula stepped aside and motioned them in. Tentatively, the group entered, DJ last of all.
The inside was just as adorable as the outside. Furniture crafted of wood and animal furs were all around, mostly occupied by black cats. Plants were aplenty, splashing the living space with green. Sunlight streamed in through the round windows. Something delicious floated through the air, too. It was coming from a large, bubbling cauldron in the center of the room.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Ursula said. “I’ve almost finished with the cauldron for the day. Should be done in a few minutes.”
“A potion?” Steve yelped.
“Even better!” Ursula said as she stood on a stool and stirred the contents. “Soup! Cheddar and broccoli!” She brought the spoon to her lips and had a taste, then smacked her lips. “Just enough salt. You hungry?”
Together, they all sat around the room with bowls of soup while Ursula jabbered about all the hot gossip in Daenan. A tavern keeper was cheating on his wife with a butcher’s wife, but the butcher’s wife was secretly seeing the mayor’s assistant, and the mayor’s assistant had a little brat that never learned his manners, so Ursula turned him into a toad. She cackled with delight, but assured everyone that she turned the kid back. That assuaged DJ’s fear, but only a little.
Meanwhile, they sipped on their soup and black cats investigated them. Riley petted a cat that had made itself at home on her lap. Francis had cats all over him—he tried to keep very still as they rested on his head, shoulders, lap, and feet. Steve pulled up his robes and cinched them around his face so they covered his nose. DJ wondered if he was allergic.
“…so that’s when I said, ‘No spell can fix that!’” Ursula cackled. Her laughs settled down and she wiped her eyes. “I’m rambling. I was rambling, wasn’t I? Well, spit it out then. What does the author want?”
“Go ahead, young knight,” Francis said casually as he sipped some soup.
DJ felt the pressure of everyone’s eyes again. He cleared his throat. “Ursula, Sandy Brambleton is, um, really worried about the curse you put on him months ago. He’s started writing really big books and his publisher is afraid that they’re too big to sell. He’d really like it if you broke the curse. I’m sure he feels really bad if he made you made. So, if you could, uh, break that… it would… be good.”
Ursula watched DJ intently. Her bulging eyes turned to tiny slits. DJ gulped, wondering if his time as a toad had finally come.
“This is a grave thing you ask of me, boy,” Ursula said.
DJ’s heart rate picked up. The tension in the room became thick.
“I cursed that man for a good reason,” she said. “It is not easily undone. And I’m not sure you have what it takes to lift it.”
DJ clamped his jaw. What kind of price does this curse require? Would it be dangerous? He was starting to consider that a curse of writing big books really wasn’t that bad. Maybe Sandy Brambleton would just have to live with it. DJ and his friends could find some other job in town to make some coin and replace their stolen things. It couldn’t be that hard.
DJ was already thinking up his apology to Sandy Brambleton when Francis spoke up. “What is this price?”
Ursula snapped her fingers twice. From under the kitchen table, a box sprouted legs and bounded all the way across the floor until it reached DJ. Then its little legs bent down and it jumped into his lap, making him spill his soup. DJ let out a started yelp and the box’s legs disappeared.
“In order to break the curse,” Ursula said seriously. “You must reach into the box and retrieve the Talisman of Uk’trok. Don’t look at it, but you must hold it. If you look upon it, your mind will descend into madness. It must only be viewed by those cursed, see? The Talisman has the power to break curses, but if you’re not cursed and you gaze upon it, madness will ensnare you.”
DJ trembled in his seat. He set aside his soup and looked upon the box with wide eyes. “So, I have to hold onto it with my bare hand until we reach Daenan? Then we have Sandy Brambleton look at it, and his curse will be broken?”
Ursula nodded with eyes white-hot.
“Is there—ahem—anything else in the box?”
Ursula shook her head.
DJ looked around the room once more. Everyone silently urged him to open it. Even the cats stared at him. This is what knights do, DJ. Show some backbone. Gathering bravado, and swearing to prove himself to everyone back home, DJ kept his gaze focused upward as he opened the box and reached inside.
But he didn’t feel a hard Talisman. Instead, he felt a mass of stringy wetness. His face twisted in confusion. “What the?” He wrapped his hand around the slippery knot and held it up.
There was no Talisman in the box. Just a giant wad of wet spaghetti.
Ursula cackled louder than ever, holding her stomach as she rocked to and fro. The cats scattered. Ursula kicked her feet and wiped her eyes and slapped her knee and pointed at DJ. “You should have seen your face! You were ready to run out that door, weren’t you? Such a scaredy-cat! Bahahaha!”
DJ’s cheeks burned as he shoved the wet spaghetti back in the box and set it on the floor. A black cat came up to investigate and started nibbling the end of a noodle.
“Wait a second,” Riley protested. “What about the Talisman? What about breaking Sandy Brambleton’s curse?”
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“There is no Talisman!” Ursula proclaimed brightly. “It was a joke! A hoax! A fib! Just like the curse I put on that author!”
“Hold on,” Riley said loudly. “Sandy Brambleton isn’t cursed?”
Ursula shook her head. “Only cursed with an undying need to tell stories, but that’s not my fault! No, I didn’t like how one of his stories ended, so I made a little show of cursing on him at a book signing. I was only joking! I could never do anything to that nice man!” She cackled again and wiped her eye. “Oh dear, this is too good! I can’t wait to tell the girls!”
“But wait,” Riley said, “if you didn’t curse him, why has he been writing such big books?”
“He probably just likes it.” Ursula shrugged and stifled another laugh. “If it makes you feel better, you can tell him the curse is lifted. Skibbity bibbity bop!” She waved her hand in the air. “There you go.” Satisfied, she had another spoonful of soup and smacked her lips. “Hm. Could’ve used more salt, I think.”
Everyone finished their soup and Ursula sent them away. The witch chuckled one last time as DJ walked out the door. In his heart, DJ felt embarrassed that he let himself get so scared of a witch that only liked to eat soup and pull pranks.
On the road back to Daenan, all of them guessed what Sandy Brambleton would say when they broke the news of his phony curse. Steve, in his friarly honesty, said they should tell Sandy Brambleton the whole story. But DJ wondered if Sandy Brambleton would still pay them if there was no curse after all. No one seemed to have an answer to that.
They reached Daenan before the setting sun could fill the trees with orange and reds. Guards nodded at them as they entered through the eastern gate. Sandy Brambleton’s estate wasn’t far away.
“That was quick,” the gatekeeper said when the party approached. He opened the creaky gate and led them into the mansion again.
When they found Sandy Brambleton, he was comfortably reading in a large leather arm chair. His face brightened and he stood up. “Well?” he said. “How did it go? Did she break it? I don’t feel much different.”
Everyone stayed silent, waiting for DJ to speak. The young knight took a small step forward.
“Um… yep!” he said. “We talked to her and she agreed to break the curse. You’re free now.” Feeling his conscience protest, he let out a hefty sigh. “Mister Brambleton, you were never cursed. Ursula said the curse was a joke. It wasn’t real.”
Sandy Brambleton blinked. After a moment’s hesitation, he asked, “So… I’ve been writing really big books just… because?”
DJ shrugged. “I guess so.”
After a big breath, the author took off his glasses and rubbed his forehead. “Well, my editor isn’t going to love hearing that. But I suppose a deal is a deal, isn’t it? You still traveled all the way out to Ursula’s house, so I suppose I owe you five hundred gold.” He reached for a sack on a nearby table. “Here you go. Side quest complete.”
DJ caught the gold in both hands, but it didn’t feel as rewarding as he hoped. “Mister Brambleton,” he said, “I appreciate this, but I feel weird taking—”
“No,” Sandy held up a hand. “You earned it. Besides, if you don’t mind me saying it, you look like you could use the gold more than I.” He smiled and pointed at Riley. “And for you! I have a gift.” Sandy reached for another parcel on the table. It was one of the books he was signing the day before. “One of the first signed copies of Light of the Star Path. It’s yours.”
Riley squealed and jumped up and down. She calmed herself just enough to take the book with both hands and thank the decorated author. Sandy thanked them one last time and said the party was welcome to visit the next time they were in Daenan. As the party left the estate, the gatekeeper didn’t look up from his book as they walked away.
As they walked through town, Steve commended DJ on his honesty. Francis echoed the sentiment—something about truth being a quality of a true knight. Riley was barely listening—she kept her face buried in her new book. She let DJ hold it for a brief time. The book was roughly the size and weight of a cinder block.
They made their errands quick. They stopped by a blacksmith and picked up a secondhand shortsword to replace DJ’s stolen one. They also picked up a hunting knife for Riley so Francis could teach her how to skin animals. They bought more rations at a general store, and DJ got a new adventure pack with all the essentials. In the end, they were left with roughly two hundred gold. Francis admonished the others to be frugal in case an emergency came up.
“So I can’t buy a bow?” Riley whined.
Francis shook his head. “We’ll need this gold for food and rooms. Be patient, and perhaps a bow will find its way to you.”
“Can I use one gold to send some ravenpost?” DJ asked.
Francis shrugged. “I don’t see the problem with that. Riley, why don’t you go with him? I’ll order us rooms and supper at the inn over there. I believe we all deserve beds tonight.”
DJ took Riley to the nearest ravenpost tower. It stood like a tall, fifty-foot wooden finger—far above the other buildings in Daenan. That finger was pocked with windows just large enough for ravens to fly through. Inside, it was filled with criss-crossing rafters that made excellent roosting spots for hundreds of ravens. DJ and Riley’s ears were assaulted by a chorus of caws, and their noses couldn’t escape the aggressive stench of bird droppings.
Right inside the entrance, a front desk attendant focused their attention on DJ. They would have appeared like a typical human if it wasn’t for their small antlers and unusually bright green eyes.
A druid! DJ thought. Of course they would work the ravenpost towers—they can talk to animals.
They must have been about to close, because the druid at the desk gave DJ a foul look. Another druid from deeper in the tower wore a poncho dreadfully stained in raven droppings. They gave DJ a foul look, too.
“I’m sorry,” DJ grimaced. “I’ll make it quick. It’s going to Beregond.”
DJ handed them a gold piece and they snatched it away in exchange for a quill and parchment. Using druidspeak, they summoned a raven. A beautiful black bird swooped down and landed on the desk. It blinked and watched DJ write. Riley tried to pet it, but it cawed at her angrily.
Dad,
Just arrived in Daenan yesterday. Met Sandy Brambleton. Riley was so excited. Also met an old witch that fed us some soup and didn’t turn us into toads.
Going to stay the night at an inn and leave for Odambro tomorrow. Things are going great.
-DJ
DJ felt a little guilty not mentioning Vennick or his stolen sword, but he knew that if he made a fuss, Sir Dashing would fly out to the rescue and his quest would be over. And there was no way he was returning home like that. He would never live it down.
He folded up the letter, wrote To: Sir Dashing, Beregond on the side, and handed it to the druid. They sealed it shut with the wax seal of Daenan Ravenpost Tower and spoke to the bird in druidspeak. The bird cawed, then clutched the letter in its beak and soared out the nearest window.
DJ turned to Riley. “Do you want to write your dad while we’re here? Francis won’t miss another gold piece.”
Riley shook her head tightly. “No. It’s fine.”
DJ frowned curiously. “Okay then.” From what he knew of Riley’s dad, he was far too protective of his only daughter not to care. But DJ decided not to press it.
They met Steve and Francis at the inn and enjoyed a hearty meal of meat and boiled vegetables. It was a modest dish, but compared to a week of travel food, it might as well have been a feast. When they retired to their rooms, DJ locked the door and lay on the bed hugging his adventure pack. The mattress was musty and old, but it beat sleeping on the ground any day.
Within seconds, DJ’s eyes grew heavy and he drifted to sleep. He dreamed of books, soup, and friendly witches.