Nessa plastered what she hoped was a sincere looking smile on her face as she sat down between them, sitting as close to the fire as she dared, needing it to warm her bare feet and dry her wet hair. It was making her shirt stick uncomfortably to her back.
“And feeling like a completely new person,” she muttered. “Just as you promised.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“We have to get you some clothing of your own,” Hunter said, his eyes twinkling as they ran over her. “You’re practically swimming in those.”
“Mm,” Nessa held up her old clothing, “I suppose so, seeing as these aren’t particularly salvageable.”
“I doubt they were worth salvaging in any condition,” Orm mused, plucking them out of her hands and throwing them onto the campfire. They were engulfed in flames almost instantly. Nessa gazed at Orm, wondering if he was mad. He arched a brow and raised an odd, flaky cigar to his lips, the tip flaring green as he inhaled. “Boring colours,” he explained. “You deserve something a lot nicer.”
“If you say so.”
“A rich colour, perhaps. Maybe red or purple?”
“Purple sounds nice.”
“The nearest village is small,” Hunter warned. “I doubt they’ll have anything particularly fancy. We’re also poor, so the budget is kind of limiting.”
Orm waved a hand. “Technicalities.”
“You could send Chaos to a larger town,” Hunter suggested, his eyes bright. “He could do something useful for once, and we could have a break from his charming company.”
Orm rolled his eyes. “You mean you could do with a break from him.”
“He keeps threatening to kill me.”
“He does not.”
Hunter looked at Nessa and said, “He threatened to kill me not even ten minutes ago.”
“That was only because you were sat on his stool stump,” Orm interjected. “What else was he meant to do?”
“Ask me politely to move?”
“As if that would have worked.”
“It might have.”
Orm snorted.
As they bickered, Nessa peered at the third tent, the one belonging to Chaos. She wondered why he kept to himself so much. It was like he was trying to avoid her. It seemed such a silly thought, though, and Nessa flung it aside as soon as it popped into her head. What possible reason would he have to hide from me? Anyway, it wasn’t like she particularly wanted to meet him just yet, Nessa told herself, not after what she had heard him say. She needed time to digest his words, their possible implications. At least, Nessa thought, she could trust Hunter. He had been on her side, arguing against Chaos’ suggestion of telling her a false truth…
“Anyway,” Orm said, picking up the overcoat that she’d awoken with last night. “This is good quality. We could sell it and use the money to get Nessa something nice to wear.”
“What I have on is fine,” Nessa said softly. “There’s really no need if you don’t have much money for new clothing.”
Orm didn’t seem to hear her as his fingers caressed the overcoat, feeling the texture of the soft velvet and the fine, silver trim. “This is really good quality,” he mused. His eyebrows pulled together as he looked at Nessa, his whiskey-coloured eyes filled with careful contemplation. “How did you come by this?”
Nessa grew uncomfortable under both his and Hunter’s gaze, feeling like she may have done something wrong. “I woke up with it. It had been placed over me. I was cold, so I put it on.”
“And you don’t remember who gave it to you?”
Nessa shook her head. “No.”
“You don’t remember anything before waking up in the forest?”
“I’ve told you all of this,” Hunter interrupted, cutting in before Nessa could form a response.
Orm glared at him. “Well, I want her to tell me what happened, not what you’ve assumed. I need to know. We need to know.” He turned to Nessa, beseeching. “Please, tell us everything you can. Right down to the smallest of details.”
Nessa peered at Hunter, seeing no reason why she shouldn’t tell them what she remembered. After all, there was little for her to recount. Orm asked for the details, so she gave them, digging up even the smallest of things. She told him how, at first, the forest had been so old and unnatural, and that it had felt as if the trees had been watching her, waiting for something. Nessa shivered at the memory, feeling like she was there all over again, lost and alone, not knowing who she was and why it seemed as if the trees were whispering to her.
She fiddled with her sleeve, pulling at a loose thread, twining it around her finger with nervous energy, finding herself unable to continue with her tale. The words hid from her.
Orm shifted, uneasy, and took a long drag on his cigar. “And then, by chance, you ran into Hunter?”
Even as doubts began to creep up on her, Nessa swallowed and nodded. Was it by chance? Because the more she thought about it, the more it started to feel as if the raven had forced her towards Hunter. Otherwise, she might have ended up going in a completely different direction.
Nessa looked up at Hunter, who had been painfully quiet. He was biting his lip, his gaze darkening as he stared down at her hands. Nessa realised that as she’d been fiddling with her sleeve, it had slid back to reveal the band of scarring and half-healed contusions around her wrist.
Nessa went to shove the sleeve back down, hiding it from sight, but Hunter took her hand in his, stopping her from doing so. His throat worked as he struggled to keep his emotions in check, and his other hand came to hover over Nessa’s wrist as if he was going to brush his fingers over the wounds, like he didn’t quite believe they were real.
“These must hurt,” Hunter murmured, his eyes hard, jaw clenched.
“Not really,” Nessa whispered, watching his fingers ghost over her wrist. “I think I’ve grown used to the pain.”
“And you don’t remember how you got them?”
“No, I remember nothing.” She pulled her hand from his and tugged down her sleeve, concealing the wounds. “But looking at them…I’m almost glad that I don't remember what happened.”
Hunter watched her for a heartbeat, the tension draining from his hunched shoulders. He then shared a loaded glace with Orm.
Sagging just a little, with weariness beginning to weigh him down, Hunter sighed. “Six months ago,” he said quietly, “you and I had just arrived at The Hidden City. We were paying Orm a visit. Then it came under attack. Margan and Shadow, along with their dragons, razed the city. In the mayhem, you were separated from us, and one of them—we’re not sure who—took you. We searched everywhere for you, but without any success. They had hidden you away somewhere we couldn’t find.”
“But why?” Nessa asked, bewildered. “Why did they take me?”
Orm put a large hand on Nessa’s shoulder, warm and steadying. “Hunter’s got a bit ahead of himself. Let’s start from the beginning, shall we?”
Chapter 6
“We do not know your origins,” Orm murmured, his voice dropping mesmerisingly low. “But we do know that there’s more to you than meets the eye. This, we believe, is one of the reasons why Margan and Shadow targeted you.”
Nessa sat quietly with wide eyes, clinging to each and every word.
“You see, you’re like me. A person born of magic. Only instead of being a half-blood such as me, you’re a pure-blood. Now, I’ll tell you the truth in this matter, because you deserve that, but we’re not entirely sure what you are, just that you are an Old Blood. Potentially a very powerful one.”
Nessa frowned, “An Old Blood?”
“They are ancient beings, powerful beings. Some of the Old Blood’s descendants inherited their gifts, although often weaker and diluted by generations of interbreeding with humans. What people refer to as ‘magic users’, such as witches, are in fact either halflings or have an ancestor who is an Old Blood. There are many types of Old Blood, different species, if you will. Water sprites and nymphs to name a few, f
or example. Some Old Bloods look more animal than human, while others look more human than animal. However, there is usually something that sets them apart from the mundane varieties. This, though, can often be hidden with a glamour or something of the kind. You, thankfully, look very human.” Orm tried for a smile. “Imagine our surprise when we found out that you were a pure Old Blood and not a halfling like me.” Orm’s smile became uncertain. “Are you following me?”
Nessa blinked. “I think so? Maybe. You’re telling me that, while I look human, I’m actually an Old Blood, exact species currently unknown. This, for some reason, makes me special…rare…?”
Orm nodded. “Indeedy. Now, do you want to know why being an Old Blood is so rare?”
“I guess so?”
“Because, Nessa, my dear girl, they were hunted to near extinction long ago. Any Old Bloods that have survived this long have the good sense to keep themselves well hidden. Else they’ll meet their kindred’s fate. None of them would have let one of their own run around the kingdoms, ignorant of their heritage and in such danger. Not when their numbers are so low.”
“Was that what I was doing? Running around the kingdoms?”
“Well, running might not be the correct word. For simplicity’s sake, though, we’ll just go with that. Anyway, a couple of years ago, your path crossed with Hunter’s. The two of you became friends,” Orm winked at her, “of a sort.”
Nessa’s lips parted in astonishment and she looked up at Hunter questioningly. He didn’t notice, too busy glaring at Orm, his expression growing dark.
“Anyway,” Orm continued, “a few adventures later, you and Hunter end up in Ironguard. Which, naturally, Margan is master over, what with it being the main seat of power for House Īren and him being House Īren’s Dragon Rider. You, unfortunately, gained his attention. He figured out what you are. He realised that you are an Old Blood. We don’t know what his motives were, but we assume that he wished to use you—your power—for his own gain. You and Hunter, crafty as you are, managed to escape from Margan. You both came to me seeking answers and such, which is how Chaos got involved.
“Being an Old Blood himself, I thought he might be able to shed some light onto the matter. Before he could, the city came under attack from Margan and Shadow. We fled, but in the process, you became separated from us. They captured you, hiding you away from us. No matter how hard we searched, we could not find you, not until Chaos heard a whisper of your name on the wind and brought us here.”
Nessa didn’t know what to make of Orm’s tale, what to think or what to feel. “So…” she said slowly. “So, what you’re saying is that I’m an Old Blood, a creature belonging to a long lineage of magical beings? Because of this, this Margan fellow kidnapped me and…and…” Nessa struggled to find the words, her thoughts in turmoil. “I don’t understand. Even if I am an Old Blood, which I struggle to believe, what does he want with me?”
“I don’t know, Nessa,” Orm sighed. “We don’t know. He’s unpredictable. Maybe he hoped to turn you to his side, use your powers to aid him in a secret plan or something. Maybe he planned on making a gift of you to King Kaenar, trying to get into his good graces, if the king has any. We can only speculate on the reasons behind Margan’s actions. All we know for certain is that he demolished an entire city to get to you before the king discovered your existence.”
“He destroyed an entire city to get me?”
Orm nodded gravely.
Nessa found it difficult to grasp that someone could do such a monstrous act—that they would do it—just to get to her. “But what powers do I have for him to want me so badly?”
“We don’t know. We never had a chance to find out before they took you.”
Nessa turned to Hunter. “But if we’ve known each other for years, surely you must know something?”
“I’m sorry,” Hunter said, gazing down at his feet, his voice barely above a murmur. “I thought you were completely human until Margan revealed otherwise.”
“Well,” Nessa grimaced, “I don’t suppose Margan would be kind enough to answer some of my questions if we were to meet him, would he?”
“No, I don’t think he would,” Hunter grumbled, his expression becoming ever darker as he stared downwards, not looking at either Nessa or Orm.
“Are we likely to see him again?” Nessa was forced to ask as the cold hand of dread settled upon her. “Will he come for me?”
Both of them were slow to answer, as if the notion had only just occurred to them.
“I’d imagine so,” Orm said grimly. “In fact, I’d say that it’s quite certain we haven’t seen the last of Margan. He’ll be desperate to get to you before King Kaenar finds out about his involvement.”
“What would happen if the king was to find out about me?”
“Nothing particularly good.”
“Oh?”
“Best case scenario: death.”
“Death?” Nessa shrieked. “Death is the best thing that could come from the king finding out about me?”
Orm put it bluntly. “Yep.”
“Lovely.” Nessa’s sense of dread and alarm morphed into pure fear. Her heart did a strange dance in her chest. “Best to not get caught by either of them, then.”
Hunter leaned over and captured her trembling hands in his. “Don’t worry, Nessa. We’ll keep you safe. They’ll never find you unless you want to be found.”
Nessa’s laugh was a forced one. “And why would I ever want them to find me?”
“Because, one day, you might be powerful enough to take them down.”
“Take them down?”
“He means to kill them,” Orm summarised simply.
Nessa felt like she could have been knocked over with a feather. She looked at them, wondering if they were joking. They appeared to be perfectly serious.
“But—I—Why?”
Orm shrugged. “Because you might be the only one who could.”
“The only one?”
“King Kaenar is more powerful than you could ever imagine. He is cruel and a tyrant. We suffer under his rule, just as our forebearers had. For near on five hundred years, the king has been hunting the Old Bloods. They—we—are now approaching extinction. He will burn entire cities to the ground if he hears so much as a whisper of discontent, will kill thousands of innocents on nothing more than a whim. You and you alone might be able to free us from his dark hold. You might be able to save us.”
“If the king’s able to kill Old Bloods and destroy entire cities, then what makes you think I’d stand a chance against him?”
“Because you are something more than just an Old Blood,” Orm said with something akin to reverence, slipping one of her hands out from Hunter’s hold. He pushed up her sleeve to reveal the strange mark of a dragon’s silhouette. “This here bears testament to what you are and what you could become.”
“And what exactly,” Nessa asked nervously, “is that?”
∞∞∞
The air sang, vibrating in a slow beat, almost humming. Nessa looked upwards, trying to identify what was causing such an odd sound. Through the tree branches, some with leaves and most without, all she could see was the blue of the sky and the watchful peaks of the nearby mountains.
Nessa, alongside Hunter and Orm, stood near the odd patch of flattened ground at the edge of the campsite, with the broken hole in the tree canopy above them. Their gazes too, were cast up, although theirs were free from the bewilderment that filled Nessa’s. She wondered why they couldn’t simply tell her what was happening, what the mark around her forearm and hand meant and why it had started tingling. Nessa didn’t understand why they insisted on theatrics instead.
The deep thrum in the air grew, beginning to sound rather like the slow, methodical beat of a mighty creature in flight, with its strong wings working at the air in an unhurried pace. Nessa turned to Hunter and Orm, beginning to feel a bit panicked, and saw that they were relaxed, like this was a usual occurrence for them. Nessa’s eyes went t
o the flattened ground, starting to think that maybe it was.
A peculiar sensation rolled through Nessa like a lulling wave, calm and soothing. Her eyelids fluttered closed and her unease faded away. Warmth bloomed in her chest and her marked hand itched fiercely. It was then that she realised something: she had felt this before. Instantly, Nessa pushed her mind outwards, quickly encountering the foreign mind that was carefully shielded behind amethyst walls. This time, instead of being startled, fleeing from Nessa, it was more welcoming of the connection, hesitantly embracing it.
Nessa sensed it was close, very close, and looked to the direction it was approaching from. Eagerly, she waited, watching for it. Her heart felt like it was about to burst from anticipation.
A creature glided over the campsite, blocking out the sun for a spellbinding moment, throwing the forest floor into shadow.
Its scales glittered and gleamed in the light, sparkling like the finest purple gemstones, and its huge membranous wings glowed almost black as the sun shone through them.
The creature hovered for a second, its wings buffeting the air, stirring up gusts of wind that swirled around the campsite like a tornado, kicking up loose leaves and bending tree limbs. It then swooped, diving through the hole in the tree canopy and landing with a mighty thump, flattening the ground just a little bit more.
Pushing back the damp hair that had blown across her face, Nessa stared.
A dragon stood before her.
Snapping its wings closed, folding them tight against its body, the dragon held itself still as Nessa’s gaze ran over it, her wide eyes taking in every single detail: its delicate build, all graceful limbs and lean muscle, its shoulder coming to stand level with the top of Nessa’s head; its arching neck and angular face, with a sharp jawline and elongated snout; and the petite spikes that ran down its spine, from the base of its head to the tip of its tail, pure white and shimmering like pearls.
Nessa stumbled forwards, and the dragon’s nostrils flared, breathing in her scent, learning her in a primal way.
Snaking out its neck, the dragon lowered its head until they could see each other eye to slitted eye, knowing that the missing piece of their souls had been found. All sense of caution was thrown to the wind and they became one, their minds joining together, the dragon’s amethyst shield falling away, crumbling to dust.
House of Blood and Bone Page 5