As she watched Zevera, Ky felt inexplicable compassion. There was an attachment there, and Ky wondered if it was from their exchanged blood or Zevera’s magic. She even felt sorry for Zevera that she was so wicked that evil spirits possessed her. The empathy didn’t suddenly hit Ky. Over a few days, an increasing feeling of grief crept in, which Ky refused to acknowledge until that moment. Now that Zevera was in front of her, she actually felt guilty for making her sick, as if it truly was her fault. The only explanation was Ky’s blood caused Zevera to get sick, but she didn’t know how.
Ky wasn’t kidding herself. Zevera wanted her dead, and Ky resented how Zevera treated her, but she had compassion for the woman she didn’t understand. The trust in the witch was misplaced, and Ky knew it could hurt her, but she couldn’t help feel that Zevera wasn’t lost forever. She wanted to help, if only by showing compassion. Ky believed all evil originates from misguided pain that eventually caused people to bitterly inflict their grief onto others. She also believed it was never too late to change.
Ky diverted her attention when she felt Prism’s house move. Prism was attempting to pour out the water, but it was too heavy for her. Ky tipped and drained the home like a teapot, and then Prism hid inside.
Ky followed Zevera into the shelter; she held out her wand and hocked up mucus. The hollow became cramped as deep hammock-like chairs attached to curved poles appeared by a stone fireplace. Long blood-red curtains dropped in front of the cubbies, and wrapped the interior before they drew up in front of the fireplace, like a partially opened grand drape on stage. The moss changed from grimy green to burnt hardwood, and a knobby door blocked the cool wind that blew into the hut. The refuge felt more like a comfortable lodge as she continued to wield her wand to light the fire and make the bugs in the jars fly faster to brighten the room.
“Go check the traps. I’m too tired to use any more magic,” Zevera commanded, and sent her out with nothing more than the point of her finger.
Ky’s body veered in the direction of the woods, which was no more than a few acres away. She crossed the glade, heading for the tree line. The sight looked like freedom. Ky could practically see herself running into the woods and never looking back. An idea came to her. She desperately tried to fight the pull of magic that kept her moving forward. With all her strength, she tried to lift her hand to remove her cloak. Her shining would surely help her escape if Zevera gave chase. Yet with each step and effort to fight the magic, the harder it became to resist the foreign control and peace to remain with her captor. Zevera was making it impossible to escape.
Ky stood in front of a dead rabbit with abnormally large teeth and ears, hanging limp. When Ky reached for it, the rabbit unexpectedly opened its glowing jade eyes, and snapped at her fingers with its yellow teeth. Ky yelped, and jerked her hand back. She was so startled she tripped, falling hard onto her tailbone.
There was a loud crack, and the hare’s neck broke with a swift snap. The kill was not her own, and Ky looked back to the hut, seeing Zevera in the doorway coughing. “You’re worthless!” Zevera boomed with abhorrence, and raised her wand again cutting the rabbit down. With more coughing from each magical act, Zevera whipped the dead rabbit toward her. The hare zipped past Zevera and disappeared inside. Zevera gave one last glare that chilled Ky to her bones. Ky stood, and made her way back.
Now that Ky was finally alone, she again tried her best to fight her automatic motions compelling her without permission. She desperately wanted to run into the forest, but she couldn’t twitch a muscle in rebellion. With each step away from the woods, she became increasingly devastated. Ky tried tripping, gripping her legs, and even hitting her muscles to weaken them. “Hurry up,” Zevera yelled, and with that barking order, her body sprinted. Ky was helpless.
“If I knew you were so useless that you couldn’t empty a trap, I’d have gone myself. Now skin it and cook it with herbs from the garden.”
“I don’t know how to skin an animal,” Ky mumbled as she stared at sharp teeth protruding from the rabbit’s mouth and hesitated.
“Then you’re truly worthless!” Zevera snapped. She threw her arm into the air, slamming Ky back until she hit the curtains. “I suggest you stay out of my way, girl. The sight of you already makes me loathe your existence and I don’t want to attempt to kill you before I’m ready.”
Ky’s legs moved. She walked outside to a new garden bed. Shoots of small plants grew before her eyes, and she picked the leaves from the tallest bushes. A single fuzzy leaf smelled strongly of sage, rosemary, pepper and thyme. As she gathered the spice, white pumpkins swelled until they were over a foot in height. One dropped from its curling vine, and then a smaller pumpkin fell. Ky balanced everything and went back into the hut, gazing at the woods and longing to escape. There had to be something she missed, and a way to flee.
“You know how to chop with a blade?” snarled Zevera with thick sarcasm.
“Yes, I do.”
Zevera pointed to a table where a knife lay on oily wood. “Cut the pumpkins in chunks, mince the leaves, and then boil all the food in the kettle over the fire. Hurry because the water is steaming.”
Ky did her best, but she wasn’t moving fast enough for Zevera. Her muscles moved without conscious effort and she was dicing and chopping at phenomenal speeds. Then she hurriedly fetched the kettle with her bare hands, scooped the contents into raw hunks of meat and hot water, before carrying it to the fireplace to boil. Zevera made the flames tall until they reach the base of the cast iron.
They ignored each other while the soup filled the hut with a peppery pumpkin aroma. Zevera spoke then. “You’re locked in here. My curtains will not let you steal magical instruments, and there is no way to escape. I know you’ve already tried to do both, but you swallowed a potion that would’ve paralyzed you instantly with pain if you left the perimeter of my magic without my presence and command. You are under my bidding. There is no hope, and you cannot outsmart me.
“Now, sit on that bed and if you rise, your punishment will be severe. I suggest you sleep, because when we wake we’ll eat and I will feel good enough to leave. We’ll make our way to my son’s castle.” The witch sat in her hammock. “Don’t think of eating my food while I sleep. I did most the work, and therefore you eat less than me. If you move you will not eat at all.” She closed her eyes, but had another thought and reopened them again; her gaze bored into Ky as if she could see her soul or read her thoughts. The woman terrified her. All Ky saw was a wicked, possessed woman hungering for her death.
Ky sat in the hammock’s deep netting. The rope wrapped around, cocooning her. As she rested her head, it felt like she was lying flat, but she was curled in the fetal position. The bed itself lulled her to sleep. Without the sweeping sense of soothing relaxation, she couldn’t have slept next to the scary, unpredictable woman. Visions of Zevera’s shaking body haunted her as she slipped into slumber. Terrible glimpses of Zevera slaying her jolted her awake before she fell asleep.
Ky decided to take one last peek, hoping it would reassure her that Zevera wouldn’t wake. When Ky saw her eyes, she jolted. Zevera was still staring at her. Ky took shallow breaths, feeling more anxious than ever. She tried to tear her eyes away, but the burning gaze hindered her resolve. Several minutes passed before Ky realized Zevera was sleeping with her eyes open. It was uncomfortable; in fact it made her edgy.
Ky rolled over, turning her back on the witch, and jumped when Zevera bellowed, “Why are you moving?”
“I’m rolling over,” Ky’s said timidly. Then she laid her head onto her hands for a pillow. She felt like a coward, as Zevera proclaimed. It seemed like ever since she arrived in her new world all she did was scream, and lately she had no backbone. She was disappointed in herself that she wasn’t more like Cobaaron and brave. She felt powerless, trapped, and weak.
Eventually, Ky fell asleep hoping Zevera, too, was dead to the world. She dreamt of Cobaaron. They were in the City of Sterlings, and his big bed was covered in pillows.
She was in his arms, and he carefully and meticulously combed her hair with his fingers, slowly sweeping her locks away to reveal her naked body. It was a peaceful dream, and she felt his love. While deep into her dreamscape, Ky was aware of her conscious longing to see him again. With purpose, she kissed him, begging him to caress her and find her. She enjoyed his touch, though she was painfully aware it might be a long time.
The perfect moment felt romantic and intimate. She missed him, and his touch. Cobaaron once again ran his fingers in her glowing crimson hair, but then he clinched his fist tightly and pulled her hair while arching her neck.
The room melted away, and Ky was in a shimmering hallway filled with specks of light inside glowing crystal. Cobaaron was no longer himself, but his brother. He wrenched her hair furiously. Noxis snarled with revulsion that he no longer hid. “If you’re not a witch, how have you saved your partner from death, twice? I won’t lose another brother to a witch, especially not him, for your sick idea of changing the world to light, which is impossible! What’s in it for you? You wish for elevated godhood in your next life? Never witch! You’re vile!” Noxis drove his sword into her abdomen. Ky screamed, wishing she had turned into the sword because she somehow was aware of an unborn child; because she didn’t shift, her baby was stabbed.
“No! My child!” Ky screamed in horror. Blood poured from her stomach, as hot as boiling plasma, and her skin boiled and popped. At the sound of her skin sizzling, Ky awakened. “No,” she mumbled, hearing the sizzle becoming louder. “No.” Ky jolted awake and opened her eyes, finding herself in a completely different place; a dark place she didn’t want to be.
The flood of memories of the previous day heightened her fears. She was still with the witch. Zevera watched her as she stirred the soup over crackling coals. “What was your dream? Tell me, and I warn you not to lie.”
“Cobaaron’s brother pierced me with his sword while I was with child.” Ky swallowed, feeling helpless.
“Did you say with child?” Zevera hastily stood, very intrigued. Ky nodded in reply. Zevera carefully prodded. “So, you have a gift of sight. That is interesting. How strong is it? How many visions have you had?” Her query was a ruse; Ky wasn’t supposed to realize that Zevera’s interest concerned the pregnancy. But Ky knew women in this world were obsessed with conceiving, and suspected Zevera already believed she said too much.
“That was the first time I had that dream.”
“That isn’t anything then! You might as well not be a seer at all. You very well could not be.” Zevera shook her head disappointed, mumbled about Ky being worthless and incapable of anything useful, and then she continued to stir the soup. Her ear was pointed to Ky, as if she was listening.
“You are not with child now?” Zevera questioned her.
“No. At least, I don’t feel pregnant.”
“I’ll give you one more chance to answer, little girl. Remember that I’m a powerful witch, even in this state. I could slit your wrists, leaving you to burn in your blood, and abandon you to your death until your partner bleeds in battle and I would do this if I didn’t want my son to see Cobaaron’s name on your palm. My boys’ arrogance and disrespect, after years of protecting them, is fraying my last nerve. My sons need to know the danger, but I will abandon my plan, if it means teaching you that I am the greatest witch this world has ever seen. I am the only witch in the world that created the lives of my precious children like a god. In this world I should be celebrated as a goddess.”
“I’m not lying,” Ky stressed.
Zevera turned back to her cubbies of magical instruments. She knew exactly where she kept the device she needed, because she swiftly retrieved thick red gel stored inside a soft sphere pouch. Zevera hastened to Ky, and broke open the thin skin. Red liquid oozed out, and trickled onto Ky’s stomach. With one swift swipe, the goo smeared her abdomen. Nothing happened. Zevera cursed the name of Lu Lush then said, “This dress protects you.” Zevera turned her nose up at Ky, looking mildly impressed that she did something unexpected.
With a flick of her wand, the liquid gathered and slid up to her collar. The cool liquid pooled on her chest and seeped down to her stomach under her dress. Zevera waited as if expecting to see Ky in great pain, but she stood there feeling only the cool liquid travel to her navel as if she drank a refreshing glass of ice water on a hot summer day.
“What is it? What do you feel?”
“Nothing.” She stuck out her lower lip, and shrugged. Zevera’s eyes narrowed, as she stared at Ky. Maybe she was wondering how well Ky could lie. Ky, of course, couldn’t perform on stage without the ability to tell tales without flinching, but at the moment she didn’t need to act. “Honestly, I feel nothing.”
Zevera thrust the wand in front of her, coughed, and gathered the liquid back in its clear pouch, before returning it to her treasure trove. This time she fetched a blue flask with a dropper, and carefully let a single droplet fall to the hard ground. The room filled with the scent of spoiled cream. Ky gagged. Zevera opened the hut’s knobby door, and gasped for air.
With another charm, the smell dissipated. Zevera glowered. “Pity you didn’t smell sweet food. I would’ve stolen your child, and replaced what you have taken. It does not matter. I will once again create a son, and use your lover’s strong heart so my child will never go mad with love,” she snapped. “When will people learn that love drives us all insane?”
“I...I don’t think that is true,” Ky said as she wondered who hurt her so badly to make her believe the greatest gift in life was cruel.
“How would you know? You’re a stupid, useless child, good for nothing. I’ve lived the length of your life perfecting a vampire elixir that keeps me from dying and another span of your miserable life worrying about my sons. I’ve wasted more years than you’ve been alive in duels. You see? You are nothing. Your life is a breath compared to mine. So, how could you, in all your infinite years of acquired wisdom,” she snarled facetiously, “come to understand love’s wonders compared to its deviations?”
“I’ve heard it’s better to have love and lost…”
“Then you have never lost love, or you would not stand there and try to convince me otherwise. You are nothing but an ignorant babe, who ripped my son from me. Of all my sons he loved me most, and I savored tender moments when he confused me with her.” Zevera’s eyes swirled with pure evil. Zevera shook. Ky spied shadows of inner demons wanting to seize control of Zevera again and clench a strong grip around her neck. Zevera eyes expressed lust for murder as she spat, “You cannot teach me anything, you insolent girl. I’m the witch who invented the spell imitating life itself! I invented the spell that makes my body impenetrable, which is why no one can kill me. So how dare you stand there, and pretend to know better than me, you stupid, stupid child!”
Ky swallowed, and tried to stand tall, knowing she grieved her son, and it was that anger that was fierce enough Zevera could lash out at any moment. Ky wanted to apologize, but feared if she even moved her lips, Zevera would pounce. Then there was probably nothing she could do to convince Zevera she was remorseful. While they stood there, with Zevera glaring daggers clearly wanting to shred her skin, Ky realized that she truly wasn’t regretting Cobaaron’s victory. Wilt was dead, and for good reason. Strange her sympathy for Zevera was so strong that she felt momentary guilt. It had to be the blood they shared. There must be some connection between them.
Zevera flicked her wand, and summoned two pumpkins. Zevera clearly had no desire to pursue the conversation but continued to scowl. Using the hovering pumpkins as bowls, she filled them with soup.
They followed the food to the table, where they sat and ate in silence. The thick soup tasted terrible, like spoiled liver covered with spice to make it barely edible. Unfortunately, the pumpkin tasted like spoiled meat too. Ky gagged, trying to choke it down.
“Is it not good enough for you?” Zevera sneered, but curled her lips in a delighted smirk. “Mine tastes fine.” Zevera ate a large sporkful
of soup. She smugly enjoyed her food.
“Did you magically change yours?” Ky asked; certain Zevera wouldn’t eat rotten meat.
Zevera grinned in satisfaction, but it vanished. “Eat, or you go hungry.”
Ky stared at the slop inside the pale pumpkin and imagined shrimp gumbo. She poked and prodded the abnormally buoyant flesh chunks. She would rather go hungry.
“Eat,” Zevera shrieked and slammed her fist on the table. It startled Ky, and she trembled with fear.
She refused to look at Zevera to provoke her, but immediately closed her eyes wishing her soup was shrimp gumbo and opened her mouth for a bite, determined not to get sick. To her utter astonishment the soup went down like thick broth with the taste of bell peppers, onions, and spicy shrimp. The flavors were exact, just like the shrimp gumbo her mother made.
Ky stared into the pumpkin, amazed nothing had changed except the taste. She imagined eating something else. Her second bite was a beer-cheese soup. Then she tasted cream of mushroom, and then chicken noodle. Anything she thought she was eating, it took on the flavor she wanted to consume.
“How did you do that?” Ky asked in an airy breath.
Though it was a question she never meant Zevera to hear, let alone answer, Zevera surprisingly did. “It’s the rabbit. It doesn’t want to be eaten, naturally, so it tastes disgusting. But rabbits are cannibals, aren’t they? Their meat changed so they could stand the taste of their own kind, or they would have died off centuries ago. Think, you stupid little girl, and you would have figured this out. You’re as dumb as that brainless druse you carry.” Ky looked away. She wasn’t senseless enough to argue with a witch that could come close to killing her, while having control over her body. Zevera pressed on, obviously finding pleasure in being wiser. “It’s all in your head that you like soup. You’re eating meat that will become rancid as it rots in your stomach, but this meal will sustain us until we get to the castle. Since I can’t use magic to get there, we’ll ride on the backs of nitias.”
The Coming Dawn Trilogy Page 46