Page 41 of The Lost Child

Despite the tension in the air, Nerissa looked happy. She wanted to learn these magicks. I didn’t. I … What did I want?

It was a strange concept. Being away from the master had opened my mind up to so many possibilities that made my head hurt. Part of me wanted to return to the master, because for all the pain I endured, it was a simple existence. I didn’t have to think.

But thinking wasn’t so bad. It was … an escape of its own. If I could do anything, what would it be?

I would stay with Nerissa. That was what I wanted more than anything. I would stay with her unless she told me to leave. And even then, I would watch her from afar to make sure she was safe. I didn’t trust that the master wouldn’t hurt her again.

Yes, this was a good plan.

An odd shiver raced across my body, but I shook it away. Was the sudden nausea rising in my stomach caused by the strange magick in the air? I took a step toward the south, back where I knew home was, and it lessened somewhat. No, it had to be a coincidence. I was staying with Nerissa.

The nausea intensified, my stomach flipping over and over again. I shouldn’t have eaten earlier. Now I would pay for it. I crouched down to the ground but even that much movement sent my head spinning. Was Nerissa doing something to me?

The witch was talking about magick, and I tried to pay attention. Master would hit her for discussing it, but then I remembered that he wasn’t here. It was funny how I kept repeating that in my mind.

“There is the black blood magick and the white blood magick,” the witch lectured, watching her arm as the blood congealed and ceased to drip down it. “Black is the magick performed on one’s self; the magick that sees all and contains all. It is orderly and has purpose. We are masters of it and have taught other races a few of our secrets. Black magick is only limited by how much pain and suffering the caster can withstand.”

I tried to focus on the witch’s voice, and not only the rising sickness that was quickly overpowering me.

“White magick is performed on others,” the witch continued, her voice growing harsh and wary. “White is the absence of everything—including souls. It is uncontrolled and without direction, causing chaos with an endless realm of possibilities. It feeds on the pain and suffering of others, not the caster.”

The air felt hotter, tighter. My wings rustled in a slight wind, which caught me off guard. There should be no wind here.

The ritual ended quickly. The witch opened her eyes and carefully stretched. She purposefully moved a few of the stones over, breaking the circle. She instructed Nerissa to do the same. The moment her circle was broken, I clumsily made my way to her, my body moving slowly. I picked her arm up and turned it over, my head bent low to sniff for injuries. The long gash in her arm had healed, leaving only a light scar behind that glimmered gold when the glowing lights touched it. The scent of salt and blood filled my nostrils, along with iron and fish. It was uniquely Nerissa’s and no one else’s. It told me she was happy to be with this witch and happy to be away from the master. When she looked at me, the scent shifted to something more, something I immediately knew was arousal.

Too bad the world wouldn’t stop spinning. Maybe she would put her lips on mine again if I asked. Would that make the world stand still?

“Hey, easy!” Nerissa chastised me, grabbing me by my elbow. Why were there two of her? Did the ritual do that?

“Nerissa, I think—”

I never got to hear what Alkdama thought because the sickness suddenly overwhelmed me, forcing me down to my knees. I vomited my breakfast. When that was gone, I vomited more. It was bile and water and sweet wine. When there was nothing left, I kept going, dry heaving and powerless against the will of my body as it mutinied against me.

Nerissa’s hands might have been around me or maybe it was the witch’s. Oddly enough, I didn’t care at the moment. This nausea and loss of control over my body was worse than being punished. With one final wave of revolt from my stomach, I threw up the last bit of bile in my stomach all over the witch's robes.

Fifteen

NERISSA

I’d been afraid many times in my life. As a young child, it had mostly centered around my father with his belt, rules, and expectations. Other skilled fighters came next, those who had no qualms knocking the captain’s daughter on her ass, and teaching her exactly where her place was. In battle, the fear of death and those dying around me was always at the back of my mind, but it was manageable. The blood had never bothered me. At least now I knew why.

But seeing Canavar’s eyes roll to the back of his head unleashed a new wave of terror in me. His large form crashed limply against Alkdama and me as we rushed to catch him. We weren’t fully successful as we all crashed together.

There was something about seeing someone so large as Canavar be brought low that was extremely unsettling. Alkdama took the brunt of the blow, his back and side crushing her to the ground with a slight ‘oompf’ as all the air was squashed from her lungs. I managed to keep his head off the ground, saving him from a nasty bash up against the hard rock of the cave floor.

I tried to get underneath his arms and lift him off Alkdama, but it was like trying to push a mountain. Alkdama exhaled and pointed toward the dagger on the ground she’d just used for the ritual. I gently lowered Canavar’s head to the ground and raced toward it, my fingers curling around the cold bone handle. I handed it off to Alkdama, who made two quick nicks under her cheeks. Her cheeks glowed gold for a moment, and then she slowly rolled Canavar off her onto his stomach, mindful of his wings.

She knows his wings are sensitive,I thought. No one had told her. She just knew.She knows a lot about drakens,I realized, my excitement building. Once we ensured Canavar was OK, I would have to ask her to tell me everything she knew.

The glow stayed with her as Alkdama bent over Canavar, her hands hovering just above his skin. Her brow furrowed, and she grabbed the knife and nicked two more cuts in her throat. The glow around her intensified until her eyes went white.

I kept back, not understanding what was going on, but in awe of it all the same. Did I really have the ability to do this? It was overwhelming to think about. My brain was torn between concern for Canavar, and the thought of shoving my father around with magick the next time he got it in his head to beat me.

I took a deep breath and tried to clear my thoughts.Focus on Canavar first. You wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t plucked your scrawny ass out of the ocean.

“What’s wrong with him? Is he sick?” I asked worriedly.Did drakens even get sick like humans?Maybe it was something from the ocean, a weird sickness he got when he saved me.He could just be tired and exhausted from flying and being out in the world, couldn’t he? I’m pretty sure he isn’t even allowed out of his cave other than to fight, so what if this is all too much for him?

Alkdama frowned, her white eyes staring blankly ahead of her. “He has a blood curse on him; it’s very strong.”

---