THE SORCERESS’ CURSES

A fantasy short story for my subscribers.

By Richard Paolinelli

The late afternoon sun beat down upon the driver of the covered wagon as he approached the outskirts of Tenaxx. The villagers had better sense than to be out in the heat, so he aimed his wagon for the hut at the far edge of the gathering of small dwellings. There a boy worked, forking hay into an open stall.

The boy looked up from his task as the driver pulled up and approached as the driver stepped down from his seat. Although he had the appearance of a younger man, strong and sure in his step, the driver’s face displayed a weariness that belonged on one much older.

“I seek the home of Arexnar,” he said. “Can you tell me where I might find it?”

“You have found it,” the boy exclaimed, reaching for the edge of the tarp covering the wagon. “Have you brought a new thing for my master…”

The boy’s speech cutoff with a strangled cry as he suddenly found the point of the driver’s sword at his throat.

“You will not touch this wagon or I will have your head, boy,” the driver snapped.

“And I,” a voice calmly said from the direction of the hut, “will thank you not to threaten my apprentice. Palat may not look like much, but he is the only one I have.”

The driver turned his attention to the old man standing a few feet away.

“You are the wizard, Arexnar?”

“I am Arexnar,” he admitted, waving Palat to stand aside. “As to my being a wizard… well, there are those who say I am such. Please, put away that sword and tell me why you have come looking for me.”