Page 33 of The Lost Child

Nerissa was gone and more witches were running back to join Alkdama, their outstretched hands and power seeking to smother mine. A flare of something went through me, but it only pushed them back a foot at best.

I faltered at that, and it was enough for their magick to claim me. I was knocked unconscious, screaming for Nerissa.

Twelve

NERISSA

The last thing I remembered was surrendering to the quiet, and my only regret was that I wouldn’t be able to help Canavar now that I was dead. Accepting it, the last thing I expected to hear upon waking (once I realized I was, in fact, awake and not dead) was his tortured cries echoing all around me.

I sat up much too quickly, arising in a bed of furs, my head pounding and fuzzy. A woman in the corner eyed me curiously. Her curls were large and bouncy like mine but different, clinging tightly to her scalp whereas my hair was long and wavy. Her skin was darker than mine, but the brown of her eyes was similar to the green-brown mix of mine. She wore a band around her breasts and a small skirt on her hips. She had her hands over her ears, no doubt protecting them from the ruckus Canavar was wreaking.

Canavar. How the fuck had he gotten here? Wherever here was?

I pushed the furs away and stood up carefully. I was in a tent made out of hide. I could learn where I was or what had happened to me later. Right now, I had to get to Canavar. I had to ensure he was alright. What if my father was here?

A stab of terror punched through my chest.

No, that was stupid. He was likely still back on the island. He never went anywhere himself these days.

“Can I—”

I didn’t hear what the woman said even though I was wildly curious about who she was.

No. Canavar came first.

I darted out of the hut and dodged her arms, following Canavar’s roars. They were loud, so he had to be close. I vaguely noted the crude village I ran through and the women who were in it, all of them looking similar to the woman in my hut. There were only two dozen or so, if that many. My feet pounded into the soft dirt, my waterlogged boots slipping on my feet. On the outskirts of the village, I found Canavar, bound with heavy ropes to a tree and roaring at anyone who came near. He looked exhausted and near his wit’s end. A ring of women surrounded him, giving him a healthy berth. I shoved through them none so gently.

“Move! What are you doing to him?” I demanded, my voice twice as high as it usually was. I tried to go to him, but was stopped by the tallest woman I’d ever seen. She wore a bright red robe that trailed the ground with golden tassels. A long, ornately carved staff was held in her hands.

“Do not go near him! He is throwing out white magick! It isn’t safe!”

I didn’t give a fuck what she was talking about. I reached into the small pocket of my chest leathers and felt the small bulge told me my short dagger had survived all of my adventures thus far today. I withdrew it and sliced out at the woman’s neck, aiming for a shallow cut.

My blade struck the meaty flesh of her palm as she raised it just in time to protect her face. To my surprise, she didn’t pull her hand back in shock, nor did she gasp with pain. Instead, her fingers closed around the knife’s edge, blood dripping down her hand as she laughed. “You have been held captive just as much as he has! Attacking a blood witch with a knife. How foolish.”

Her words didn’t make sense. None of them did. I yanked my dagger back, her blood thick on my blade even as it ran down my own hand. I ducked under her and ran to Canavar, noting the open wounds around his wrist and chest where the rope was biting into his skin every time he thrashed and writhed against his bonds. Which was frequently.

“Canavar! Stop! You’re hurting yourself.”

His body jerked and his gaze found mine, but I could tell immediately there was no recognition in it.

“What did you do to him?” I demanded of the witches, laying one hand on his shoulder.

“DON’T!” the witch who had wounded herself shouted at me, but it was too late.

The moment my skin met his, an electric shock jolted through my entire body, painful and paralyzing. I fell to my knees, but wrapped an arm around his knees. I wouldn’t let him go.

“C-Canavar, it’s me! It’s Nerissa!”

The blood on my hand was sticky, and I felt the familiar, unwelcome pressure building in my chest again. Oh no! Not here! I was going to kill someone!

Nausea rose as I remembered how I’d lost control on the ship. There was a huge explosion. Had I killed everyone? Obviously, Father saw the flare and sent Canavar out to see what had happened.

“Youget back!” I gestured to the other women. “I’m not safe! I could kill you all!”

The leader rolled her eyes, her arms crossing over her chest. She seemed to not mind that her hand continued to drip blood. “Little witch thinks highly of herself,” she snorted, and the other women giggled behind her.

“No! I’m serious! I—”

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