Page 38 of The Lost Child

“Trouble brewing up north.” She frowned. “Many troubles, including strange beast men. They’ve been running us further and further south.”

My thoughts flew to Canavar back in the hut.

“Do you mean drakens?” I asked, taking a cautious bite of the cake a smiling witch handed me. Not that I thought they’d poison me, quite the opposite, really, but I had a lifetime of pirate instincts to overcome. Mistrusting everything that was brought to you by another was simply good sense.

To my surprise, the cakes were sweet with just a touch of nuttiness. Nothing this decadent would ever be found back at the pirate island. Did only women make such treats then? It would make sense they learned how from other women. I’d had no one to guide me.

Alkdama watched me with amusement, but her brow darkened when I mentioned drakens. “The drakens have all gone to sleep. Or died. No one is quite sure.” Her narrowed gaze made me feel small. “All except one, it seems.”

Canavar took that moment to burst from the tent, nose immediately sniffing the air. His head snapped in my direction, and he stalked toward us.

“Trouble up north?” I asked, wanting to get the lay of the land.

Alkdama kept her gaze on Canavar. “Nothing that concerns you or has anything that could be done about it. Missing witches and strange disappearances. Not something you can fight with a dagger.”

Canavar came up behind me, automatically sniffing the remaining cakes I held in my hand. I thrust three of them up at him over my shoulder, putting on a stern look. He caught them automatically.

“Eat,” I ordered.

He stubbornly glared at me for only a few moments this time before shoving them all in his mouth at once, crumbs falling from his lips. Canavar blinked a few times as the sweetness hit his tongue, actually twitching as he paused to savor it.

I worked hard to keep from laughing at him.

“Haven’t you ever had sweets before?” I asked him, then blushed at my ignorance.

“Come, we train.” Alkdama tugged me away from the groups of witches, off into the dense jungle that only thickened the further away from the village we got. Canavar lumbered behind us like a giant shadow, his wings tucked tightly against his back as the path narrowed.

“Blood witches find their magick in blood,” Alkdama began, not slowing her pace as we traipsed through the jungle. I didn’t have a chance to make a sound of annoyance at this obvious bit of knowledge because I was too busy gawking all around me. Canavar was too, judging by how often he craned his neck this way and that.

The trees were thicker than anything I’d seen on the island, which wasn’t saying much. My island had little (if any) natural vegetation, let alone trees. It was simply a hunk of rock on which we’d built our own homes and fortunes. I’d seen trees before of course, but usually they were slender, bendy things that we passed when stopping by a small sandbar to stow away loot or trade with other vessels.

These trees were twice as thick as a man was around, and many scores as high. The trees were so densely packed together that the sky was only visible here and there, through minuscule gaps in the leafy canopy. All manner of bugs and insects hummed around me, and I found myself spending more time swatting than actually walking.

“Are you listening? Alkdama chastised, pausing on the poor excuse for a path before us.

“Never been in a jungle before,” I admitted, scratching at a large bump that had already appeared on my arm, likely thanks to one of these buzzing pests.

“I see the first thing on the agenda is a ritual to make your blood taste foul to them.” Alkdama snickered.

Rituals? Could we actually do that? I turned back to check on Canavar, struggling not to laugh as his wings and hands worked in tandem to slap each insect away. He focused on a particularly large, skinny looking creature and slapped at it. Unfortunately he missed, the momentum of his hand continuing and throwing him off balance. His wings twisted and flapped, and luckily he was able to right himself before his face met the moss below.

“I’ve never seen a draken so … clumsy.”

Anger on Canavar’s behalf flooded my veins. “He’s been a captive his whole life! He’s not even allowed to fly except once in a while!”

Alkdama frowned deeply. “This is a dark world we are descending into when the drakens sleep and the ones that remain are slaves. When the blood witches disappear and the darkness north grows and grows. There is no one to stop them, you see?”

I sure as hell did not see. “I don’t understand. You said I was a blood witch, but I don’t look like you or the others in your coven.”

Alkdama paused, leaning on her staff. She must have realized I wouldn’t let it go until I had answers because she said, “I only have guesses. Nothing concrete.” She shot a look at my brown hair. “Your mother was likely an earth witch who had a blood witch somewhere in her maternal line.” Her gaze grew thoughtful. “You grew up with pirates? Where?”

I told her about the island, full of caves and cold stone and thick mists, our homes built upon the wreckages of ships from long ago.

Alkdama tsked. “No wonder your blood magick rose to the surface, however latent.” She spat on the ground. “An earth witch who grew up with nothing but stone beneath her feet. Now I’ve seen everything.”

My heart sank. “You don’t know who my mother is,” I whispered more to myself than her.

Alkdama sighed. “The covens do not mix much anymore. Centuries ago when there was peace, we often visited. Unless you travel north—which I highly advise you against—and find the earth witch coven, there will be no more answers.”

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