Chapter 8 – Unexpected
Written by Silent Serenade
My Internet bound computer seems to have semi-died on me. Such a shame, I had grown quite attached to it... Much appreciation shall go to Martini, who's been bothering with (and bothered) me since a long while ago. May you perhaps present some contact information, seeing I've never quite been able to track you down. Many thanks to all other reviewers, and I'm proud to be an owner of receiving my first centennial celebration. Please note that some names are intended to be in their masculine forms.
If you all thought the last cliffhanger was evil, try this one.
"Daine? Daine, speak to me!" Numair cradled her shaky body as she clung to him, convulsing with pain.
She gasped as Numair lightly touched the arrow buried in her back, the wound overflowing with blood. With his magic, Numair cleaned the opening from dirt or impurities, but that was as far as he could go. He was no healer. Prodding the arrowhead with his black fire, Numair found that it was poisoned. Not just any poison, but a strong form of magic influence, which he couldn't identify, never have experienced it firsthand before. They needed Alanna.
In his concentration, Numair didn't notice the person standing beside them until he encountered an unfamiliar sky blue magic observing Daine's wounds. Surprised, he drew back and faced a middle age woman with flowing golden hair and clear cerulean eyes.
"I know this poison. Come, I can treat her."
He didn't know if she could be trusted, but there was no time. Magical poisoning could prove to be fatal when it fully dominates the victim's physical and magical system, some strong enough to kill within a few hours.
Numair threw a shield around his party, placing an invisible barrier between them, the lady and anyone else who may consider attacking them once again. He saw the eyes of the blond woman darken, yet her stance softened and she spoke once again in her low, gentle voice.
"I'm Gabriel. My abode is far from here, but there's a hut close by to suit my needs."
As Numair carefully tied Daine to Cloud, he felt Gabriel establish her own sphere of protection from any nearby attackers. They left the beach and slowly made their way to the seemingly distant clusters of snowy pine trees.
Daine slowly opened her eyes and looked around where she was. She tentatively got up and brushed off her breeches before she realised they weren't there. She was naked.
"Numair?"
She tried to speak by no sound came out. Confused and feeling weak, she desperately looked to find any familiarity in her surroundings. Startled, she widened her eyes in fear.
There was nothing around her. Nothing. She was somehow standing upright in a place of complete emptiness, void of life.
If there is nothing, how do I exist in this place?
Inspired by this discovery that she was alive, Daine reached within her to that ever-waiting pool of magic and found...
Black fire.
No! That's not my magic!
Hesitantly, she extended a tendril and tested the pool.
What? It still feels like mine, perhaps simply under an illusion... Maybe I should try to use it.
She took a drop of the shimmering black liquid and concentrated on shape-shifting to one of her favourite animals — a slender grey wolf.
Daine received a sensation of being burnt, fire consuming her whole being, filling her lungs and scathing her fur.
Unable to withstand the pain any longer, Daine closed her ruby encrusted emerald eyes and fell.
Numair had never felt such a rage since Ozorne had first laid a finger on his Daine. Now he was struggling to suppress this overwhelming desire to strangle Gabriel as she sat calmly pressing a foul substance on Daine's wound, which seemed to multiply her cries of anguish.
"You're killing her!" He had meant to sound violent and menacingly, yet his voice came out in a mere whisper.
Gabriel had heard the desperate tone above the screams of Daine, and looked at Numair with her timeless blue eyes.
"No I'm not. I'm treating her."
As if on cue, Daine let out a silent gasp and feel limp to the sweat-soaked mattress. Her breathing became more even and deep, as if she was simply asleep from a long, tiring day.
Numair frowned at this sudden change of events and glanced at Gabriel, who gave him a smirk which looked to be an 'I told you so' expression. Numair sighed with defeat and buried his head, still unsure whether to trust this woman. For all he knew, she may have cast a spell on Daine, and having been in contact with her blood, flowing with her wild magic, Gabriel had temporarily gained access to her inner barriers. Numair swiftly sent his magic within Daine's system, checking to see if her body and mind were possessed by outside forces. When she appeared to be free and acting upon her own will, Numair was slightly relieved yet still very troubled about the recent events.
Needing to satisfy his curiosity of exactly what had taken place, he spoke.
"Explain."
Gabriel studied him once again, searching him with her knowing gaze. Numair couldn't help by become mesmerised with her appearance, awed by her ageless power. Now that Daine was perhaps out of danger, he had to appreciate the beauty of her saviour, golden bangs framing a porcelain face free of wrinkles, shimmering blue eyes which held a gentle look behind the defiant mask.
"The poison was Witchfire."
Numair's heartbeat halted. He tried drawing a breath and choked. For a few moments, the sound of his coughing resonated in the tiny cabin, amplified by the silence of the area. When he finally settled down, Gabriel spoke again, this time a sombre tone in her mellow voice.
"Are you aware of the consequences of Witchfire, Master Salamin?"
He couldn't care less of how she knew his name. All that mattered now was Daine... Daine, she was...
"Yes, I am." Numair took a deep breath, still unbelieving of Daine's danger. "Witchfire is a form of strong, ancient magic cast by female mages. To successfully create one drop of Witchfire, the mage must use the majority of her power, leaving them drained for days. The power of Witchfire is not due to the magic applied, but rather the amount of blood, which contains the very essence of one's magic, added to create the potion. The mage must not only gain the knowledge of binding these liquids, but must survive the exertion of both blood and magic in their systems. Many powerful mages have died in the attempt of creation, because they could hardly exist long enough without blood flowing within them, and to draw the massive amounts of their magic to bind the sources.
"Witchfire enters ones bloodstream and can control the being as it taints the victims' blood with foreign magic. It can be used to fully possess a being, channelling their magic as the caster's own. And if the mage decides to once again go through the agonising experience merely to create another drop, it can kill a victim and all those close to them, by slowly burning them mentally, physically and magically, and using their hearts and emotions as a passage to all their loved ones, to repeat the process on them, until it spreads to the ends of the earth."
Gabriel looked at Numair with a gaze close to admiration, and asked one last question to complete his revelations of this long forgotten magic.
"And the antidote is?"
Tears filling his eyes, he swallowed and allowed them to cascade down his weary face, ghastly with pain and fear.
"Witchfire."
Let's kill Daine off, and have an angsty Numair for the rest of his life. Wouldn't that be lovely.