Read Online Mine to Tarnish by Janeal Falor - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Janeal Falor
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distance.
“Charles!”
“ I see it.”
He paddles faster, sweat beading on his forehead, but it’s not enough to outrun the spell flying at us. It zips over the river straight for me. I brace my hands against the side of the boat and prepare myself to be inundated with pain. The spell slams into the center of my chest. Only, there’s no pain. But unlike the previous spell, it’s not only the lack of something, it’s the entirety of nothing. I can’t feel sensations at all, not even the wind against my skin or the droplets flying at me.
I collapse, landing in the bottom of the raft paralyzed. The only sound is the rushing water but more muted as if even my hearing is leaving.
Charles must be moving me over to my back, but I don’t feel it. I only see the bottom of the boat then the side, then his face leaning over me. His mouth moves, but I can’t hear the words. Are we going to crash into a rock? Is the warlock casting the spell within sight? Wherever he’s at, he’s stronger than the hexes I’m used to. The frozen feeling becomes more numbing, everything closing off except the panic boiling in me. The sound of the river is a whisper in my ear.
Suddenly Charles’s face grows closer but not because he’s leaning toward me. I think I’m—I’m floating up toward him.
Panic pounds inside me. The floating doesn’t stop. Something tugs me up and to the side, away from Charles. I can’t go like this!
He wraps both of arms around me, pulling me close. The tugging persists, making the sky appear to do this strange bounce, but he keeps me tight next to him. The tug morphs into a jerk. I fly from him. He grabs a hold of me, pulls me back, and presses his full weight against me. Panic mixes with anger that there’s no way to help.
“ No,” Charles shouts.
The sky and trees seem to jerk about, though I think it’s actually me. Charles’s face comes back into view, scrunched with effort. He braces me against the seat, though I can’t feel it. With one hand, he tries to grab the rope I held earlier. The trees jump again. He braces his shoulder against me. The sides of the boat come back into view. With one arm and his torso holding me down against the bench, he grabs the rope again. The yanking turns to vibrating, but Charles doesn’t budge, keeping me from flying away.
He throws the rope around me and the bench, then reaches beneath to pull it up and over again. The process is repeated until my legs, stomach, and chest are encircled tightly with the rope. He works to tie a knot more complicated than I can follow. Once the rope is secure, he slowly inches away from me, holding his hands out like he’s going to stop me if I start flying again.
My body strains against the rope but can’t get free. The panic ebbs. If my body weren’t numb, would the ropes hurt? Perhaps the bruises later will. Charles examines the ropes, saying something I can’t hear, and rushes back to his paddling.
It’s hard to see much without turning my head, but his hands come up first one side than quickly changing to the other. He’s trying to take us faster than the current already is. Or perhaps dodge rocks or branches or something else.
My eyes burn and blur from going so long without blinking. Tears form, making everything watery, and trailing down my cheeks. It’s difficult to determine what exactly is happening with small, blurry glimpses. I wish I could move my head. I wish I could see more.
At least with the passing distance, my body eases from the rope. I alternate between watching the clouds pass overhead and the rope growing less tense until it's fully slack. Feeling slowly returns. First a little tingling in my fingers and toes. Then it spreads to my limbs. I blink rapidly and squeeze my eyes shut in relief. Until the feeling in my wrist returns with a sharp pang.
I move my head a bit, taking in more of our surroundings, trying to distract myself. The tracking spell is still there, so faint that it can barely
“Charles!”
“ I see it.”
He paddles faster, sweat beading on his forehead, but it’s not enough to outrun the spell flying at us. It zips over the river straight for me. I brace my hands against the side of the boat and prepare myself to be inundated with pain. The spell slams into the center of my chest. Only, there’s no pain. But unlike the previous spell, it’s not only the lack of something, it’s the entirety of nothing. I can’t feel sensations at all, not even the wind against my skin or the droplets flying at me.
I collapse, landing in the bottom of the raft paralyzed. The only sound is the rushing water but more muted as if even my hearing is leaving.
Charles must be moving me over to my back, but I don’t feel it. I only see the bottom of the boat then the side, then his face leaning over me. His mouth moves, but I can’t hear the words. Are we going to crash into a rock? Is the warlock casting the spell within sight? Wherever he’s at, he’s stronger than the hexes I’m used to. The frozen feeling becomes more numbing, everything closing off except the panic boiling in me. The sound of the river is a whisper in my ear.
Suddenly Charles’s face grows closer but not because he’s leaning toward me. I think I’m—I’m floating up toward him.
Panic pounds inside me. The floating doesn’t stop. Something tugs me up and to the side, away from Charles. I can’t go like this!
He wraps both of arms around me, pulling me close. The tugging persists, making the sky appear to do this strange bounce, but he keeps me tight next to him. The tug morphs into a jerk. I fly from him. He grabs a hold of me, pulls me back, and presses his full weight against me. Panic mixes with anger that there’s no way to help.
“ No,” Charles shouts.
The sky and trees seem to jerk about, though I think it’s actually me. Charles’s face comes back into view, scrunched with effort. He braces me against the seat, though I can’t feel it. With one hand, he tries to grab the rope I held earlier. The trees jump again. He braces his shoulder against me. The sides of the boat come back into view. With one arm and his torso holding me down against the bench, he grabs the rope again. The yanking turns to vibrating, but Charles doesn’t budge, keeping me from flying away.
He throws the rope around me and the bench, then reaches beneath to pull it up and over again. The process is repeated until my legs, stomach, and chest are encircled tightly with the rope. He works to tie a knot more complicated than I can follow. Once the rope is secure, he slowly inches away from me, holding his hands out like he’s going to stop me if I start flying again.
My body strains against the rope but can’t get free. The panic ebbs. If my body weren’t numb, would the ropes hurt? Perhaps the bruises later will. Charles examines the ropes, saying something I can’t hear, and rushes back to his paddling.
It’s hard to see much without turning my head, but his hands come up first one side than quickly changing to the other. He’s trying to take us faster than the current already is. Or perhaps dodge rocks or branches or something else.
My eyes burn and blur from going so long without blinking. Tears form, making everything watery, and trailing down my cheeks. It’s difficult to determine what exactly is happening with small, blurry glimpses. I wish I could move my head. I wish I could see more.
At least with the passing distance, my body eases from the rope. I alternate between watching the clouds pass overhead and the rope growing less tense until it's fully slack. Feeling slowly returns. First a little tingling in my fingers and toes. Then it spreads to my limbs. I blink rapidly and squeeze my eyes shut in relief. Until the feeling in my wrist returns with a sharp pang.
I move my head a bit, taking in more of our surroundings, trying to distract myself. The tracking spell is still there, so faint that it can barely
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