by Lisa E Parry
That knocked the wind out of me. I would be a hypocrite if I told him his actions were mindless. I walked around the bed and knelt on the floor with my hands clasped as I preached to him, “I won’t be able to help you, Oliver. God help me, you’re doomed to an eternity in that damned thing!” I plonked my face in the bedsheets. A cool caress encased my head. I looked up to find dulled blue eyes looking down on me. A hand ran over my face. I couldn’t even use my powers to embrace him.
“There might be a way I can tell you certain things…”
I pushed my hair out of my face. “Really? How?”
“If it doesn’t work, then we’ll both suffer.”
“I don’t care. We have to try.”
Oliver sat up and I perched next to him. “Something is changing – I’m changing.”
I frowned, visually assessing him. “In what way? Is Anarch already changing you?”
“No. I am.” He hung his head and I angled mine to see him better. I reached out, only to find chilly air. Patiently, I waited for him to assemble his words. Minutes ticked by … I was ready to try and coerce it out of him, when he stood abruptly and paced. I flinched and watched him with concern churning my gut.
He ran a hand over his face. “I don’t know how it works, it just sort of happens. Something’s … shifted.” He tapped his chest and then rubbed the spot over his heart. “I was angry … so angry. When I found out I was forbidden to help you, but forced to … Arrhh!”
He fell to his knees, clutching his head. I ran to him and knelt before him. He panted. “I can’t tell you what I am to do, obviously.” He looked at me with such hopelessness that it tore me apart. “But I can tell you what’s changed because Anarch doesn’t know about it.”
Footsteps outside heralded visitors to my chambers. Oliver disappeared. “Shit! Oliver! No!”
Etheldreda burst into the room without knocking. A wicked smile grew over her face when she caught sight of me kneeling on the floor. She flicked her golden hair over a shoulder and stepped closer, flanked by two armoured men. “Praying to the Gods, are we? It will do you no good,” she said in a sweet voice.
I let a mask of indifference fall over my face and placed my hands in my lap. “How can I help you?” I asked just as sweetly. A third guard hauled a chest into my room and slid it across the floor to the cupboard.
“Pack your clothes, we’re leaving,” she ordered. The last thing I wanted to do was follow her orders. Nevertheless, I rose from the floor, opened the cupboard and began packing the drab dresses within. I couldn’t stop myself. A dreadful thought occurred to me as I packed. As if I need more shit in my life.
Etheldreda stood by, watching with amusement, then clapped her hands gleefully. I glimpsed her from the side and noticed her thick maroon travelling clothes, complete with black cloak.
“So then … No powers until Nutovi. What an interesting development,” she chimed. “Until we arrive and we need you to storm the city, you will answer to me. Anarch has already given the order.” There was my confirmation. I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my lips into a line. Bugger.
Upon completion of my task, the guards took my chest and exited the room. The blonde bitch menacingly closed the gap between us and then slashed her nails across my face. I fell to the floor, clutching my cheek. My fingers came away bloody, awakening a burning rage.
“Oh dear. You can’t even heal that. It will scar that ordinary face of yours if you don’t do anything about it. Oh well, maybe it will draw attention away from how terribly plain you are.” She turned her back on me to stride for the door. One day, she would die for doing that.
Dark embers of smoke swirled into my vision. I let those tendrils consume me. Normally, I would hold them back, but I wanted that anger to burn and burn until it filled the depthless chasm my magic had left in its absence. My skin crawled with the need for something sinister to escape. Did my corrupted black magic follow Anarch’s orders, or had I just discovered that those spells and Avellana were a law unto themselves? Avellana was the sister on the flipside of my coin; but what if she were untouched by Anarch’s curse - buffered by my side of it?
Even if the spells from the ‘Magia Ater’ had a mind of their own, they would infect me with their taint and throw me deeper into the clutches of insanity. The sound of blood pattered upon the flagstone floor, and I realised I wanted it. I wanted retribution.
It was time to go to war.
Acknowledgements
Again, I would like to thank my husband, family and friends for your constant encouragement and motivation. I love you all.
Thank you, Robin, for running your expert eye over this book and working with me to improve my craft. You’re always my teacher.
Eleanor… You are my feisty heroine in the making.
About The Author
Originally from the Black Country, Lisa now resides in Staffordshire, England where she is working full time as a writer. Writing has always been her passion regardless of different career paths she has taken in the past. With a Bachelor’s degree in Graphic Communication from the University of Wolverhampton, Lisa has been a Graphic Designer, Icon Designer and a Freelance Designer. Lisa has also taken jobs as an Administrator, Receptionist and Data Inputter. During her time in these occupations, Lisa was constantly writing in her spare time, as it was always a part of her life. However, she believes that her background has been a good foundation for her writing. Design has allowed her to imagine and structure stories perfectly in her head.
As a reading addict, Lisa has surrounded herself with hundreds of books and enjoys losing herself in a good story. Seriously, she becomes unaware of her surroundings, a part of the furniture, and only re-emerges for chocolate. Oh yes, she is a self-professed chocoholic, lover of music, predominantly from the 90’s and adores traveling and seeing the world.
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