3. Yseult
362 Words
3
Yseult
The spell ripped and wrenched me. I cried out as it prised me apart. Vision swirled away, the stars dying, my ears filled with the roaring of time, the oncoming dawn.
The blast drove me into blackness.
I woke with sunlight soft on my face. I’d fallen on my back and my body ached. When I turned my head, flowers tickled my cheek. A blue sky overhead, a field full of wildflowers all around. No fog or cursed stench. My witch sisters were gone, along with the fire and barren trees.
The spell had done its work. It had sent me… somewhere. Could this be the place the ancient ones meant to send me?
As I lay, ears straining, I had the feeling I was missing something. As I watched the wind rustle the new growth on the trees, I realized what was wrong. A day like this should be filled with song, but there was only silence. Where were the birds?
Voices murmured nearby. Male voices. Slowly, I sat up.
A castle stood at the far end of the field, its great walls dwarfing the trees. A few figures moved in the shadows, but they were far enough away to be no threat to me.
My more immediate concern was the two warriors winding their way through the thick grasses. Their weapons clinked as they came closer. A few steps and they would easily see me.
I reached for the raven’s form, waiting for the familiar rustle of feathers to prove I’d transformed. I could easily take flight and be out of reach, winging my way to a perch where I could spy on this unfamiliar land. Once I got my bearings, I could see about my mission.
The warrior’s murmurs grew clearer, their chain mail rattling a warning.
Come, I reached for my power, whispering the spell.
Nothing.
My fingers groped the ground, clutching frantically as if the earth could rise up and hide me. Still the raven form didn’t come. I felt tired, a little dazed, but not so much that I could not work my magic. But when I went within to draw on my magic, I felt nothing.
Numb, heart beating faster, I sat frozen as the warriors came closer.
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