Chapter 42 Chapter Twenty-One Part One - Orenda
Burning, scolding pain shooting through my ankle has my senses returning with a vengeance as a scream of agony tears its way through my throat. I gasp for air, the unexpected physical pain compounding with my mental and spiritual fatigue to create a brand new kind of torture.
I try to move my arms, but something around my wrists weighs them down. As I pant, I force myself to focus past the blur of my vision, and slowly, Invidia’s familiar frame comes into view. She’s squatting in front of me, her bone-white hair tied up in a short pony, the strands too short to be contained by the hair elastic framing her face. The only thing illuminating my stoney prison are two sconces holding a single flickering candle on opposite walls. The light around me is dim at best, making Invidia’s toasted brown skin appear darker in complexion, while giving her hair a ghostly veneer.
Willing myself to focus a bit more, I see her gazing at something in her hand, her expression seeming impressed. I glance at her hand and hear alarms blaring in my head as I stare at the sparkling shades of teal coming off the apatite gemstone held between her fingers.
“I’ve been dying to know if that would work or not,” she muses, turning the gemstone between her fingers as she shifts her attention to me, a dark smile playing on her face. “I guess we know it does.”
Maybe it’s anger, maybe it’s adrenaline, whatever it is, I use it to sit myself up, my teeth clenched so tightly I’m likely to crack a tooth. I lean back against the cold, hard wall, its bumpy surface digging into my aching muscles as I feel sweat forming on my brow. I hear the clattering of chains and look down to see shackles around my wrists; shackles that I assume are bolted to the wall.
I look up at Invidia, her eyes observing me with mirth that only fuels my anger. “How…did you get that?” I question, glancing at the gemstone. I force the words from my mouth, each syllable taking its toll on my body, but I fight it off as best I can.
“Do you know how long it took me to find out what a raitruum’s weakness is?” she quizzes. “It was not easy, let me tell you that. After I learned about the whole human-body weakness thing you’ve got going on, I almost gave up the search. I figured your creator would have to be a giant jackass to give you a weak, fragile human body and an Earthly weakness,” she softly chuckles, her eyes cast on the ground as she shakes her head in amusement. She raises her head, her eyes meeting mine and glimmering with sadistic satisfaction. “But then I learned about apatite,” she announces, brandishing the stone close to my face.
I press myself against the stone wall, the uneven surface digging into my spine and shoulder blades as I try to put as much space as possible between me and that gemstone, the burning, stinging throb in my ankle acting as a glaring reminder of exactly why. In our bird forms, we are indestructible unlike our human forms, but Invidia is right; we do have an Earthly weakness. Apatite is lethal to us in any form. Prolonged exposure to it can weaken us and even kill us over time, while severe injuries inflicted by it are immediately fatal. Given my current state, using apatite against me feels performative rather than necessary.
Invidia laughs and puts the stone into her jeans pocket. Immediately, I feel its effects diminishing, notwithstanding the searing pain in my ankle.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to torture you with it. I just needed you to wake up,” she offhandedly mentions, rising to her feet and adjusting the hem of her white tank top.
“How did you get me here?” I weakly ask, my mind too eclipsed by the fog of rejection and the presence of apatite to allow me to fully comprehend what is going on. “I’m immune to makkari magic,” I point out. Even in my weakened state, no makkari spell could ever work on me, so I don’t understand how she managed this.
“I was concerned about that during the planning phase, but then I find you like this,” she laughs in disbelief, gesturing down at me. “It’s like a sign from the universe. You’re so weak you can barely talk. I can’t believe how easy it was. All I had to do was pick you up and carry you out of your own home,” she gloats, shaking her head in bewilderment.
“You’re not…strong enough,” I dispute.
She smirks smugly, leaning against the wall, “Oh, I assure you, I am.”
I look over at her as I lean my head back against the wall, the faint memory of her lifting me with ease filtering into my mind and a cognizance along with it.
“You’re a hybrid,” I state with realisation.
She smiles, her brows raising infinitesimally. “Even semi-delirious your mind is still sharp,” she commends with an impressed tone. “And you’re right; I am a hybrid and a very unique one at that,” she asides haughtily, potentially fishing for me to query about her lineage.
“Why are you doing this Invidia?” I ask, my words laced with exhaustion. “I thought we were friends,” I lament in dismay, the sting of betrayal adding to my never-ending emotional scars.
She chuckles, shaking her head in amusement, her teeth gleaming almost as brightly as her hair. “It still amazes me how easy it is to con good-natured people such as yourself,” she opines with an incredulous smile. “All you have to do is act meek and vulnerable,” she explains, modifying her voice and demeanour to that of the Invidia I first met, giving a more demonstrative performance as she continues, “Display genuine excitement and interest in them, listen intently, and just for good measure, act a little ditzy. If they think you’re not very smart, they’re far less likely to suspect you of plotting something devious. But don’t ever overdo it. If you take it too far it tends to set people’s bullshit meters off,” she gabs conspiratorially.
I close my eyes in a state of deep chagrin. It seems I have completely lost the ability to judge someone’s character. First I was wrong about Azadou, now Invidia. I’m meant to be a paragon of good – and a powerful one at that. After all these years, I had become so good at reading people I could do it just by hearing their voices over the telephone. Now I can’t seem to register evil when it’s staring right at me, plotting my demise.
What has become of me?
When did I become so deficient?
I feel like a caged bird with a broken wing, and that’s not someone I recognise.
Invidia regains my attention by clapping her hands together. I open my eyes to see her face cast upwards and a bright smile on her face. “I can’t believe I’m the first person in history to catch a raitruum!”
I feel disgust rippling over my body like centipedes crawling under my skin. I would give anything to strike her down and claw her eyes out with my talons, but I’m too weak. She’s made that painfully clear. I accept that I won’t get my climactic moment where I rise like a phoenix from the ashes and make her regret having ever met me, but that doesn’t matter. I don’t need my ego inflated, I need a rescue, and I know just the person to call.
“Aya!” I call through our link, but quickly all I sense is static on the other end. “Ayawamat!” I call out again, trying to summon what I can to push through, but no matter how much I call he doesn’t hear me.
On the extremely rare occasion my brother has a block up, it feels more like hitting a wall with a giant ‘do not disturb’ sign on it, but this is different. This is outside interference.
When I realise calling for Ayawamat is getting me nowhere, I try the next logical answer, summoning them like an unforgiving hurricane.
“Jartre,” I call out quietly, projecting my thoughts out into the universe.
I wait.
Seconds tick by and I open my eyes, glancing around, hoping to see the giant frame of my father-figure looming over Invidia, ready to crush her like a cockroach, but there’s nothing. It’s just me and her stuck in this dungeon-esque room that smells like a dusty, damp, wooden forest.
“You can call for whoever you like; you can even scream for them at the top of your lungs. No one is going to hear you,” she taunts with a sly smile, having figured out what I was doing – or making an educated guess.
“That’s impossible,” I groan, the pain returning to the forefront of my mind.
I’ve been lucky enough to go my entire life never experiencing the effects of apatite and now that I am, I can’t help but wonder if it’s truly this bad, or if the pain of my rejection is making it worse.
“Do you see anyone bursting in to rescue you?” she challenges, gesturing to the empty room.
I feel myself starting to slump forward, but I manage to force my body weight back against the wall, the action leaving me panting, having exerted more energy than I can afford to lose right now.
“Why are you doing this, Invidia? What could you possibly stand to gain?” I ask prostrated as my eyelids fight against their own weight.
She walks over to a nearby chair and drags the wooden legs across the stone floor, the sound bouncing sickeningly off the walls, comparable to nails on a chalkboard. She places the chair in front of me, sits, and leans forward with her elbows on her knees.
“The only reason I’m about to tell you all of this is because you’re never getting out of here and I’m dying to brag about this to someone,” she boasts with exaggerated impatience.
“Had no idea…you were so cocky,” I quip snidely, the exertion making the words sound like they have been dragged across gravel.
There’s a word for her level of showboating: peacocking. Ironic that it’s not the actual bird in the room exhibiting bird-like traits. She’s so blatant about it that it’s almost offensive to my entire genus.
Invidia chuckles and sits back in her chair, confidently folding her arms across her chest. “What do you know about blood magic?” she quizzes.