Onyx Blood [True North series book 2/3]

I flew through the halls as if I was riding the wave of excitement I felt. I had wielded twice, and I had done it with ease — I didn’t even feel drained. I went into the library and passed right by the stacks of books I had put out earlier. I wasn’t looking for books about blood this time — I had a new mission. Eldrims.

I walked along the shelves of books, running my finger along the leather-bound backs. I looked, and looked and looked, for any type of book that might mention Eldrims, or witches, or even just magic in general. I eventually called in help from one of the scribes manning the library.

She pointed me to a children’s book full of legends and folklore. “I’m afraid this is all there is left,” she said apologetically, “the surviving King had all books and depictions of Eldrims burned after his brother’s Eldrim mate cursed his people — and as she was the last of her kind, there is not much known about them.”

She lifted the book from the shelf and handed it to me.

I thanked the scribe, and eagerly took the book with me to the pile of books in the corner I’d been reading in. I settled down, and opened the dusty book, flicking through the pages in search for the word Eldrim. There it was. A four-verse poem, on parchment decorated with beautiful florals and gold leaf accents.

“In the lands where shadows creep,

hidden in the valleys deep,

Witches lived, their forms unknown

In disguise, through life they’ve flown.”

“With amber eyes and feathered wings

their secrets hidden, deep within.

But flames revealed their truest guise,

cleansing them of poisoned lies.

Extinct they are, or so they say,

mere whispers of a bygone day.

The Eldrim curse, a wicked vine

passed down through the maternal line.

Beware, dear child, and do as told,

don’t raise your voice, don’t be too bold.

The truth warped by their cursed fingers,

they might be gone, but magic lingers.

I shiver ran down my spine, and I read the poem again. I was a bit taken aback by the hateful tone of voice of the poem in this children’s book. Had the Eldrims been a threat to the Ardanians?

I thought back to the curse the last Eldrim had bestowed upon the people —having to tear each other apart to keep from getting killed themselves— that seemed like an awfully maleficent curse to bestow upon an entire nation out of spite.

I closed the book, and tucked it under my arm. “May I take this with me for the day?” I asked the scribe.

She hesitated for a moment. “You may,” she said reluctantly, “but please, don’t let anyone see it. All literature mentioning Eldrims should have been burned ages ago — we’re not supposed to have this.”

I clutched the book to my chest, and wrapped both arms around it protectively. “I shall take it straight to my chambers, and bring it back first thing tomorrow,” I promised. The scribe nodded, and held the door for me so I could leave.

I did as promised — I took the book straight to my room, and hid it beneath my mattress. Then, I turned around and left the room, striding straight for my next location.

“Thor?” I called out into my mind, “I know you don’t want me to, but I’m going to see Aeloria. There’s something I need to discuss with her.”

“I’m coming with you,” Thoridor replied immediately. “You will not,” I countered, “you’re a male. I can handle this. You have to trust me.”

I could feel Thoridor’s unease drip down the bond. “I do,” he replied finally. “I trust you. But keep the mind-link open — I need to know you’re okay. If I so much as hear you—”

“Fine,” I replied, “but you won’t. I’ll be okay.”

I had made it to the foot of Aeloria’s tower, and began running up the stairs. When I reached the top, I had to sit down for a moment to gather myself and steady my breathing from the physical exercise.

Then, I straightened up, and knocked on Aeloria’s door. “Enter, child,” Aeloria said. I took a deep breath, and walked into her room, shedding all my nerves at the door.

I straightened my shoulders, and held my head up confidently. “Hi, Aeloria,” I said.

“Welcome back,” Aeloria smiled. She was laying on her bed of moss, her hair so overgrown with flowers she seemed to be a part of the floral wall behind her.

“I see you’ve made your decision,” she continued, her smile growing wider.

“I see you still haven’t taken out the Shadowroot and Frostthistle,” I bounced back, gesturing to her hair.

Aeloria’s smile faded slightly. “I do not know which ones they are,” she admitted.

“I thought you were all-knowing,” I challenged her, crossing my arms over my chest.

Aeloria laughed out loud, and slowly sat up. I could tell her movements were already less graceful than last time I had gone to see her.

“You’re brave,” she said, “there’s a fire in your heart. I appreciate that.”

I slowly began pacing in her direction. “I’ll remove the Frostthistle in exchange for some answers,” I offered.

Aeloria’s grin widened. “Ah,” she said, “a bargain.”

I halted a few steps away from her, and raised an eyebrow. “Agreed?” I pressed.

“Agreed,” Aeloria nodded, “what would you like to know?”

“The vial,” I said, taking my necklace out from under my gown, “Is it blood?”

Aeloria frowned, and leaned back into the wall of flowers behind her. “Do not waste my time asking questions you already know the answers to,” she said, her voice dripping with boredom.

“Who’s is it?” I asked.

“You know who’s it is,” Aeloria replied, “she gave it to you.”

“My mother,” I whispered, clutching the pendant in my hand, “but why is it black?”

“Why do you think it is, child?” Aeloria asked as she got up and held out her hand.

“I don’t know,” I mumbled, “my mother was as human as they come.” I handed her the pendant.

Aeloria held it up in front of her. “Ah,” she said slowly, “this blood holds lots of secrets. Secrets, and answers.”

“Well, how do I get to those answers?” I asked, growing impatient.

“Often, to get answers, you have to know exactly what questions to ask, and how to ask them,” Aeloria said, smiling mischievously.

I grimaced at her. “Apparently I don’t know how to ask you questions,” I said bitterly, “because you haven’t given me one straight answer yet.”

I gestured to the bed. “We’re not getting anywhere. Let me get the Frostthistle, so I can be on my way.”

Aeloria sat down on the corner of her bed of moss, and I could’ve sworn I heard her joints creak as she moved.

I stuck my fingers into her halo of coils, searching for the Frostthistle. I wrapped my fingertips around the prickly stem, and began unwinding it from her skull, careful not to rip off any of the other plants in the process.

Suddenly, I felt Thoridor press into the side of my mind, as if he was trying to get in.

“I’m okay,” I assured him through our mind-link, “I’m just about to leave. I’ll come see you after.”

“Okay,” Thoridor said, and I could hear the concern in his voice, “be safe, please, my love.”

My stomach flooded with pleasant sparks, and I couldn’t help a smile from creeping onto my face.

I refocussed my attention on Aeloria’s head. The moment I lifted the weed out of her hair,

Aeloria whipped her head around, and bore her hazy eyes into mine. “Blood ties, child, but so does love,” she said, wrapping her hand around my wrist, “you of all people should know that.”

“Warrian,” I whispered immediately, and a feeling of unease took over. “Are you trying to tell me I’ve made the wrong choice?”

Aeloria rolled her shoulders, and rose to her feet. “Ah,” she breathed relievedly, and gracefully glided across the room.

“You know exactly wether or not your choice was the right one,” she called over her shoulder as she began tending to some of the plants that grew on the wall.

I sighed, and walked to the door. “I’ll be back for the Shadowroot, and some more of your non-answers soon,” I said, before closing the door behind me.