Curselock

Chapter 83: Calm

Chapter 83: Calm

Without disorienting pain, Glenny woke up not long after he adapted to his concussion. Gone was the Lord of Chameleons, gone was the ever present Sightless King, gone was the foreboding grogginess of not having a proper thought or idea. Now, it was only Glenny in healed mind, along with his thoughts as it should be.

He woke to the smell of grilling meat and hushed conversation. A small fire was set up on what looked to be worm scales, so as to not melt the ice below, and a hunk of worm meat rested on a spit over said flames. It was being rotated slowly, Jude’s hand twisting the handle every now and then.

Jude himself was engaged in conversation with Leland, the cub sitting in his lap eyeing the roasting meat like it was a trophy of unimaginable flavor. Cumin, thyme, maybe even salt. Glenny was glad they had stocked up kitchen supplies. They didn’t have much, but a simple spit and few spices really changed meal time for the better.

Anything beat eating bugs found in caves. Then again, they were cooking a worm, so who was to say which was better. Glenny’s stomach wouldn’t complain, though. The smell was heavenly, especially since his brain prior to this hadn’t been picking up scent like it was supposed to. Only now did he feel tip-top, even though he knew his head was still injured. He simply wasn’t feeling the effects any longer but that didn’t mean the wound wasn’t still there.

“Guys?” Glenny scratched out, trying to sit up.

Leland was the first one over, mainly because Gelo refused to move from her human throne. Leland helped Glenny sit up, the lack of friction from the ice and snow making things difficult. A cup of steaming water was passed around and soon the rogue was sipping.

“How are you feeling?” Leland asked.

“Good. Like really good. I adapted to the concussion. I don’t feel it anymore.”

Leland and Jude shared a look at that, both ignoring the curious Gelo. She looked between all three boys, asking questions that no one wanted to answer. Eventually she hmphed and resigned herself back to staring at the roasting meat.

“That’s good, right?” Jude asked.

“More or less,” Glenny said. “I don’t feel my head hurting anymore, which is good. But I also don’t feel my head hurting, meaning I don’t know what my limits are. I feel like I could easily overexert myself and just... die.”

Leland thought long and hard about that. Surely there would be a way to make sure Glenny’s head was in prime health. A magical item? A scanning device? Maybe he could contract a Lord and receive something specifically tailored to Glenny.

Jude, however, didn’t share the others’ worries. “Just don’t get hit in the head anymore!” he said with a devilish smirk.

All three boys knew the statement was obvious and redundant, but they each smiled at the frankness of how it was said. Each knew that Glenny would have to be cautious, but they also found solace in simply knowing he was okay. They were content with leaving the conversation at that.

Glenny, in the meantime, asked, “Is that meat done?”

Gelo jumped at the question, stomping around like a deer prances. The movement was far less graceful than the little cub intended, but her excitement knew no bounds. “Please, please, please?” she begged Jude.

The berserker looked to Leland, the only one of the boys not actually injured. The Legacy of Curses sighed, resigning himself to that of a meat server. He shaved the worm chunk thinly, the top being cooked while the center was still raw.

Gelo happily ate her meat, stating that cooked meat was much better than raw and that her mother would never go through the trouble of heating up their meals. They were Frost Bears, after all.

Jude, now petting an overstuffed Gelo, motioned to the worm carcass. “We’ve still got that thing. How many scales and teeth do you think we can carry?”

Glenny looked to the monster. “At least enough for you and me to upgrade our armor.”

At that Jude abruptly stood, casting away all of the rust that plagued his joints. “Well, let’s get on with it then. The faster we butcher the worm, the faster we can investigate the Ice Castle.”

The Huntress peered across the roofs of Frostford’s skyline. There were a few taller buildings, but for the most part she had an easy time looking to the island being plagued by an isolating blizzard. An hour prior there would have been no way to see the island no matter where in the town she stood – the blizzard made sure of that.

It had covered the whole of the town, creating a record snowfall as the town’s mayor was telling worried citizens. The Huntress wasn’t sure how well that line of reassurance was doing to help the town, but frankly she didn’t care. She had a job to do, one that she had officially been requested to do.

The town had called for Inquisitor intervention, and headquarters had thus given the job to the Huntress. She was the closest Inquisitor , just like in Shoutwell. But this time was slightly different. Some rogue mages making a blizzard was much less of a threat than a cultist invasion. So, she was being left alone for this job.

No backup was coming, something she very much liked. She preferred working alone, after all.

So, there she stood, watching a magical blizzard retreat back to the island in which it originated. There were a few possible explanations for that. First, the caster was dead. Second, the caster got what they wanted and had no reason to maintain the spell. Or third, something else had happened.

The last possibility, while the most vague, was also the most likely, the Huntress thought. While under any other circumstances she would have guessed the first or second, it was the boys and their involvement that made her second guess her initial instincts.

They had something to do with the blizzard ceasing, and she felt it wasn’t because they killed the caster. No, that would be too simple. That would be too easy. The boys had gotten mixed up in whatever game the caster was playing.

The question was now if she would help or not. Technically her job was over the moment the blizzard stopped completely – she always liked to play with the wording of headquarters’ orders. But also technically she had permission to investigate and dismantle whatever rogue element had created the blizzard.

Which led to her dilemma. She already found a trail of oddities within the town, enough evidence to start a true investigation into the characters who started the blizzard. But that trail led away from the island and the boys and up into the nearby mountains. There was obviously a driving force behind the blizzard, a boss or a leader or something.

The blizzard caster was a small fry, she felt in her gut. Going after the head was always a surefire way to decimate whatever the organization was.

Yet, she didn’t want to leave the town. Not while the boys’ fate was still unknown.

Call it worry, call it madness. The Huntress didn’t want to—

No. She cut that line of thought at the roots. Internally she cursed at the boys for making her weak, slow, and annoying her like no other.

She slipped off the roof and headed for the town gate leading toward the mountains.