by Amy B. Nixon
“Sit down, Miss Dustrikke, and focus on the task at hand. Spewing profanities and rebelling against your own nature–”
“Screw this!”
Unable to stand it anymore, I stormed out.
Fortunately, at least Axel had had the decency to leave me alone. Unfortunately, even the Dining Hall’s clamor couldn’t drown the sounds, which still echoed in my ears as I headed back to bed later that night. I spent it like the night before – fiddling with my bed covers, rearranging my pillow and trying to remind myself I was nowhere near Forsand.
A moment of clarity hit me on Tuesday morning, courtesy of the shock I experienced when Dann gave us sheets with a questionnaire. At first, I anxiously shifted in my chair, associating it with my university quizzes. Then I realized it was one of his methods of making sure the audience grasped his words.
Once the initial shock left my system, the demons that haunted me took over. The Nøkk’s guttural gurgling resurfaced, accompanied by the screaming – an uneven, out-of-tune shrieking sequence of Monika and Gabriella’s joint voices.
I scribbled answers about the ice giants’ battles in Niflheim, wrote the names of numerous glacial lakes and the icy citadels covered by mist. I also listed links between Midgard and the other Nine Realms.
Then came the last question.
I read it exactly three times. Something was off. It wasn’t like the rest. This was more like those thesis questions they used in university or in preliminary exams to make you boost your brain’s activity and come up with an answer that would separate you from the flock of candidates.
Apart from the ones you have listed above, which supernatural species do you think would be most likely to possess the ability to travel between realms?
Apart from the ones listed above? I had most definitely not missed anything above. Was it a trick question? Or was it just supposed to make us rethink our answers and check if we weren’t forgetting something? Kind of like the helpful question Dann had asked me when I forgot to describe the Bifröst’s appearance in November?
Or was the question supposed to make us creatively propose our own theory on the abilities of some supernatural species?
Another gurgle.
The only creatures I had read about in depth were the dark elves in Midgard, the ones in Svartalfheim and the light elves in Alfheim. Neither of them could travel through realms using their own magic.
Another scream.
The only creatures I had come across outside the castle, face to face, were the Nøkk.
Marked by Amyria.
Claws, hitting dark cliffs. Claws, scraping over rocks. Claws, curling around my ankle. Claws, carving holes into my skin. Claws, seeping poison into my veins.
“Learyn!”
I jumped in my chair, suddenly aware I wasn’t in Forsand. Dann was standing nearby, with a hand spread out in the empty air. I quickly handed him my sheet, then looked around, hoping I hadn’t done something during my trance-like state to make me seem like a freak. Again.
“Sorry. I was thinking about the final answer and got carried away.”
So far, no one around me showed signs I had acted out of the ordinary.
“I’d like a word with you after the lecture, please,” Dann said, and I nodded, scanning an empty spot on the wall across from me.
All the insane things I had seen on this island weren’t scary anymore. The world out there was filled with real reasons for fear, worry and pain. Unlike the horrible accidents which had happened here, some things simply couldn’t be reversed even by necromancers – such as the death of Aurora’s friend.
Gurgle. Scraping. Marked by Amyria.
Who was Amyria? Was she worth dying for? And was she the reason my aunt relocated me from San Francisco to halfway across the world?
“This will be all for today. Thank you, everyone.”
Slowly approaching the platform with Dann’s desk and waiting for his audience to exit, I wondered if my aunt knew more about Amyria than Dann did. I’d have to ask her tomorrow. Regardless of how hurt and angry she was with me, she was going to call me tomorrow.
Dann eyed me like he was waiting for me to say something, when it should have been the other way around. After a few moments, which stretched to eternity and back, he decided to speak.
“What happened earlier? I called your name three times before you heard me.”
Shifting my weight from one leg to the other, I hesitated. My throat tightened as soon as I realized it was expected of me to open up about the truth.
“Like I said, I got carried away thinking about the final answer.”
He shuffled the stacks of paper on his desk and took out my sheet. After a quick examination, he sighed and put it away. I already knew I hadn’t answered the last question.
“You were thinking about the Nøkk, weren’t you?”
I stared at him in disbelief. How had he guessed? There was no way he could have known what was going through my head. Unless…
“Are Nøkk among the species that can travel between realms?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
They weren’t? “Then how did you guess?”
“Judging by what I heard from Aurora and Monika’s explanations, it’s only natural for you to be deeply affected by the experience you had. If you want to talk to someone–”
“I don’t!” I interrupted him as soon as he delivered a suspicious suggestion, sounding like I needed to seek help and open up to someone.
“You can talk to me,” he said slowly, evenly, as if I hadn’t interrupted him at all.
“I don’t need to talk about it.”
“I never said you have the need to,” he corrected me calmly, “I said if you want to.”
Unsure of how to respond to his kind gesture, I remained silent.
He stared at me for what felt like forever. It made me really uncomfortable, because he saw through my bullshit. I didn’t want people to know just how shaken I really was, although as a Council member he had the right to know exactly what had happened. Then again, he already knew.
“Please believe me when I say I don’t want to interrogate you on behalf of the Council. I’m only offering you to talk to someone who has an idea of what you might be going through.”
He had an idea? How could he have an idea? He hadn’t seen a girl get brutally torn to death.
I couldn’t talk about it. The problem wasn’t that he was a Council member. I had already seen enough of his personality, so I trusted him. The problem was, I couldn’t bear the thought of being exposed like that.
Especially to him.
I knew he wanted to help, and if I opened up to him, he probably could help.
He cared about everyone equally. I had seen him spar with those guards, and heard him say how he wants to provide security and safety for everyone on the island. Twice. He’d also read me like an open book. More than twice.
If there was a single person in this supernatural hellhole who was genuinely kind, perceptive and capable of understanding my cynicism and issues, it was him. After everything that had happened, his presence alone evoked a sense of safety, and his personality was the only thing that made this insane island seem warm and welcoming.
But I just couldn’t talk about it.
“Can I please go?” I pressed after a while, because he was still waiting for my answer without breaking eye contact.
Those piercing icy blues stared at me almost as if they were trying to penetrate my thoughts. With each passing second, I grew more anxious and hesitant on whether I should take him up on that offer.
“Yes, you can go,” he finally uttered.
I ran for the door like my life depended on it.
Instead of going to lunch, I hid in my bathroom, drowning the tension in my muscles. Hot water and lack of sleep made me even drowsier than I already was, and I suddenly found myself experiencing relief at the thought of my upcoming Elemental session. Unlike Dann or Geira Brekke, Christof Brühl wasn’t the type to ge
t all sentimental. He wasn’t going to force me into a heart to heart conversation. His irritating personality was a blessing today.
As soon as I walked into the room we used, he delved exactly into the subject he was supposed to avoid.
“I heard what happened during your escapades. In detail.”
Dropping on a chair with a loud groan and the grace of a mammoth, I glared at my mentor’s resting scowl. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“We will talk about it.”
“Why? Does this look like a shrink’s office to you?” I snapped, leaning forward. “Last time I checked, you were here to teach me about magic, not to give me improvised therapy sessions.”
Instead of shooting me a glower, his grimace eased into a soft look.
“When you come face to face with fear, Dustrikke, you don’t hide in a corner and wait to be rescued. But there’s a problem with your reaction to fear, because you still think like a human being would. You didn’t use magic when you were threatened with imminent death.”
“On the contrary,” I corrected him with acidulous irritation. “I used the Eitrhals.”
“You didn’t use your magic. You should be relying on your gifts, yet you turned to external resources that happened to be on the sidelines. You are a necromancer, a damn powerful necromancer, and you must learn how to think and react like one.”
“Fine, give me the stupid candle.”
Instead of pulling out a candle, he pushed his hands in his uniform’s pockets, then took a step back. Before my brain could analyze his actions, my access to Brühl was cut off by a wall of fire.
Actual fire.
“What the hell is this?” I asked, trying to locate Brühl.
The blazing reds, yellows and oranges were too dense, obstructing everything happening behind them, like a fiery blackout curtain.
“Brühl, what are you doing?”
Silence.
I slid off the chair and stepped back in an attempt to steady myself, get a better look of the flames’ width, and possibly extinguish them. Glancing from left to right, I took in the vivid colors, which kept dancing and intertwining, no matter how many times I attempted to use the air element. Dazzling and unyielding, they simply kept burning.
“Extinguish it,” I told myself out loud, trying to make my eitr core listen.
Extending both arms towards the flames, hands on level with my hips, I turned my palms to the fiery curtain. I imagined the air element flowing from my core, running through my fingers, and charging itself at the fire.
The flames twisted in the same rhythmic dance. My air element didn’t affect them.
Think.
Fire. Fire doesn’t get extinguished with air. It dies down when there isn’t enough oxygen in the air to maintain it.
I licked my lips and drew in a slow breath, sucking in the air, sucking it deep into my lungs, sucking it away from the room. The fire didn’t succumb to my magic.
Think.
Fire. Fire is a separate element. It isn’t dependent on the air element and oxygen. Maybe it can exist without them.
Think.
Fire. Fight fire with fire.
The wall on my right, which held the door, burst into flames, drawing all my focus to the sudden blaze of light. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t real. It was just magic.
My rabid heart repeatedly hit my ribcage, trying to run away from the flaming barriers. The beating of my pulse clouded my hearing, disrupted my breathing. Escape. It wanted to escape.
The wall on my left lit up, obstructing every single window from sight.
Three sides. I was standing in a deep, long valley, surrounded from three sides, and the road directly ahead was a boundless ocean filled with bloodthirsty Nøkk.
I took a step back. There was no escape. Another step back, and my body got hit by a fervent wave. It wasn’t warm. It was scorching. Turning, I came face to face with the same torrid flames which now surrounded me from all other sides.
A gurgle. A scraping sound of iron nails being dragged across a rocky shore. A scream.
I ran, fleeing from the blaze behind me.
The one up front moved closer.
No! This isn’t happening. None of it is real. It’s only magic, just Elemental magic, and I can fight Elemental magic.
I closed my eyes in a desperate attempt to get my thoughts in order, and immediately regretted it. The loud thumping hits, bashing against my eardrums, and the frantic jabbing of my heart only grew more deafening and violent. I curled my hands in fists, pressing them to my torso. Every breath I took came hard and uneven.
Another wave grazed my spine, this time followed by three others, coming from each side.
My breathing became even more troubled. I squeezed my eyes so vigorously, refusing to look at the burning flames, it hurt. It was a sharp sort of pain, similar to the one crawling over the places where my skin was exposed to the flames.
I’m not on fire. This is only magic. It doesn’t burn me. It can’t.
My nostrils filled with heated air, burning on the inside the same way my skin was burning from the outside. I opened my mouth, gasping for a sip of oxygen, and a scorching drought crept across my tongue, dragging itself down my throat.
My mouth hurt, like it was dry and chapped and someone had just forcefully made me stretch it, ripping wounds under dead skin cells.
I ached for fresh air, gagging, chocking, only sucking in more heat.
A whimper escaped my throat, and the movement of my vocal cords added to the pain. But I couldn’t shut up. The exposed flesh on my hands and face was set ablaze. Another cry rose in me. It felt like someone was pouring acid over my skin, eating through the flesh and baring the bones underneath.
I couldn’t contain myself any longer.
I gave voice to all of it, and with that, I gave into the incinerating fever that broke out in every inch of my being.
***
The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was a white ceiling. Next came Brühl’s blurry face. It was the second time I woke up to his grumpy frown after losing consciousness while being surrounded by fire.
“Wh-what happened?” I asked, trying to push myself up.
My limbs were as heavy as when I woke up with Nøkken poison in my veins, but this time I was able to command them. Lifting my hands for a closer examination, I didn’t notice any burn marks.
“Why did you do that?”
“To simulate a similar situation to the one you experienced when being trapped from all four sides.”
I felt like a tractor had run over me. Maybe that was why I couldn’t get angry. Or because I knew I should have expected something like this. After all, he had proposed to suffocate me on purpose once before.
“Why didn’t you use your fire element, Dustrikke?”
“I tried.”
“You didn’t.”
He was right.
“I was about to, right before you set the second wall on fire.”
“Why didn’t you tell me to stop?”
Because I was talking to myself.
“Why didn’t you tell me to stop, Dustrikke?”
I didn’t reply.
“Why didn’t you ask me for help when the pain became intense enough for you to start screaming?”
I looked away, fixing my gaze on the nearest desk’s metal legs.
“Answer, Dustrikke!”
Slowly, I forced myself to look him directly in the eyes. His aggravated expression should have enraged me, but my body was too exhausted. Instead of feeling a familiar rush of anger flow through me, all I felt was fatigue.
“You wouldn’t have stopped.”
He pulled me on my feet so fast, my head spun, and I swayed to the side. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to steady me by clasping his hands on my shoulders, but the weight of his arms nearly knocked me off balance.
“Do you see my point now?” he asked, leaning forward.
You don’t hide in a corner and wait to be resc
ued.
Maybe, just maybe, I would have asked for help or even begged him to stop if I knew there was someone else in the room beside him. But there wasn’t anyone else I could turn to. There was no one there to save me. And there was no point in fighting his abusive methods, since the Council clearly approved of them.
“That’s enough for today, Dustrikke.”
He grunted my name instead of saying it in a soothing way. That statement should have been soothing. It should have been delivered with something other than a condescending tone, and it should have brought relief. But it didn’t.
My weary legs miraculously carried me to my bedroom.
***
The storm above me perfectly mirrored the relentless ocean.
Its waves raged violently, rapidly, mercilessly. I could feel them jam against the cliffs, making the rocks beneath me quiver. Stepping backwards, I stumbled just when the rocks began crumbling with a grotesque roar. Chunks fell off, hitting the ocean, inciting its rave.
Looking around for help, I realized Monika and Aurora had disappeared, vanishing without a trace.
And that wasn’t the worst part.
Hard as I tried, I couldn’t step away from the edge. The more I stumbled backwards, the closer the waterfront came, spitting splashes of icy, frothy seawater all over me.
A deafening string of gurgling sounds came from under my feet, where the waves furiously thrashed against the uneven boulders.
No!
I screamed over the roaring nature, but my mouth didn’t produce a single sound. Why couldn’t I speak?
A hand with elongated membranous fingers, coarsely jagged fingernails, and shiny, ferric skin emerged behind the nearest gore to grab the wet rock.
I nervously went through every spell I had read, desperately searching for one to repel a Nøkken, even though I was deadly positive only Aurora could cast something powerful enough to keep it at bay.
And Aurora wasn’t here. I was all alone.
“Calm down.”
A familiar husky voice rose against the rumble, outshouting the storm’s tremors. Dann. He was here? I looked around with anticipation, trying to locate him, but I didn’t see any hint of another person’s presence. Where was he?
