Page 39 of The Lost Child

Disappointment soured in my stomach like bad ale. Alkdama didn’t have any answers, and approaching my father was out of the question. I stuffed my frustration deep down, and instead tried to focus on what I could control.

“You mentioned something about a ritual?” I spat instead, intent on drawing her attention away from Canavar and back on me.

Alkdama gave a look like she knew exactly what I was doing, but I didn’t care. Her face snapped back to me. “All blood magicks are rituals,” she offered, then started walking again.

I barely managed to not roll my eyes at the answer that wasn’t an answer at all.

“And only witches can do them?” I followed up with, feeling that this was a relatively safe answer.

Instead, she snorted. “Silly child. Most races with magick perform the rituals. Only the blood witches create them, however.” A wistful look crept across her face, like the clouds parting for a moment to reveal a teasing glimpse of the sun. “The drakens were practitioners of dark magick and dabbled with white. They were good allies who delved far into protective magicks–barriers and wards. But the blood witches know all and learn all types of magick, even magicks created by others.”

I was convinced she was speaking in vague riddles on purpose, and said so.

Alkdama laughed. “This is no story for young witchlings. I have promised to teach you what I know, and I will keep it. But it has been long since I’ve had my own witchling to teach. Therefore, you must bear with me and be patient.” A sad look entered her eyes at that, but I didn’t want to press. It felt painful, just from looking at her.

“I feel something in me when I get angry or I’m in battle,” I confessed. “I never realized before that blood was the trigger, but blood is quite common where I’m from so I never give it any mind.” I remembered how I only found relief in two things; explosions, and sex.

My face flushed. “Does it … does … sex have anything to do with it?” I stared at the ground, unable to meet her eyes.

Alkdama gave a chuckle, then disappeared into the largest tree I’d seen yet, larger than three or four huts put together. The moment I got close enough to touch its smooth bark, I saw the large hole hollowed into the side, nearly invisible due to how cleverly it was cut.

I glanced back at Canavar, who was frowning at the small hole. “Just duck,” I advised, and disappeared into the darkness.

Fourteen

CANAVAR

Nerissa disappeared into the tree.

I didn’t like it. I didn’t like these women who stared at me with their wide eyes and meant to claim Nerissa as their own. They all smelled similar, and it was clear they thought Nerissa was kin of some kind. She smelled a little like them, but overall different: more earthy and fresh.

I still didn’t trust them.

Nerissa liked them well enough, but I was out of my element. I felt angry for no reason. This world was bright and confusing with food aplenty that was handed out to everyone without care.

My world back home was simple: obey, kill, eat.

There was no clear direction here, no straight path forward that led to what I needed to do. Master wasn’t here, and his order had been to bring Nerissa back.

The panicky urge to grab her and take flight over the ocean filled my veins, but I knew it wasn't what Nerissa wanted. At least not right away. She was interested in learning more about these women—witches—who had strange powers like her.

I didn’t blame her. Small patches of memories and flashes of another life swirled in my mind, but it was like trying to hold onto water slipping through my fingers. Was I imagining it all, or had I truly had a life before the master? One with a mother, a father, and other drakens like me?

I slid through the opening in the tree, grumbling and tucking my wings tightly against my body. My first step forward hit nothing but air, and I tripped and fell down a hole. The space was too narrow to flare my wings, but I tried anyway, desperate for anything to slow my fast fall.

I snarled in pain as my wings scraped and banged against the inside of the tree, and I tried to push through the sensitivity and white flares of agony. On instinct, I tucked my wings back against my back and fell faster.

My wings were a weak point. Now I knew why the master never struck me there. They were weak enough that he could damage my ability to fly. I’d be useless to him without my wings.

I needed to correct this weakness immediately. Without use, I wouldn’t be fed. Without purpose, I would die.

WHUMPF.

The air was punched out of my chest as I landed on my bottom, pain shooting up through my tailbone. A hiss of distress was the only sound I let escape. At least it was wider here, and my wings were freer to spread out. The walls were lit with glowing gemstones, and it took my eyes a moment to adjust to the multicolored, pulsing lights.

“Canavar! Down here!”

I whirled my head toward the sound of Nerissa’s voice. I obeyed and followed out of sheer need to regain purpose. I was obedient.

---