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Writer's pictureNicholas Adams

Chapter 13 Excerpt: Something Lost

Updated: Mar 19, 2020

Another update! Yay! To all of my (four) dedicated readers, this is another passage that I have just finished editing. I am about 380 pages into the book now. The tangible, page by page progress has recently been slower, but for good reason. I have been working on editing and rewriting - a very fundamental part of the process as I am coming to learn.


I am also learning what I still have to learn. Through writing more and more, I can now stand from that privileged perspective of being a better writer, even if it's only little by little. Looking back on what I've written has humbled me, and continues to do so with every word I write. I am always aware that I am not the writer I want to be and I still have a long road ahead of me to get to where I want my writing to be. It's a road I've only recently stumbled across, but a very valuable one, and, I think, the right one for me to be on.


One final note: talking about my book has always been a difficult thing for me. Basically, I feel like a douche. I feel very unworthy of any attention it brings so I try to bring it up as little as I can and mention it only if someone asks. Even then, I can't bring myself to say anything more than "Oh, yeah. It's just a fiction thing." I'm slowly getting better. For this I have to thank my housemate Liam for constantly embarrassing me: reading out loud over my shoulder as I write, asking me details about my writing, and generally just refusing to leave me alone about it. I hate it, but I know I need it.


The end of my book is in sight as the peak of a mountain is; far in the distance; one that I have yet to even start climbing. It's daunting, tall, and, honestly a little frightening, but I'm still loving every minute of it.


Thanks for reading,


Nick


 

Niera awoke to the sound of heavy raindrops beating down on a thatched wooden roof as she faded in and out of consciousness, trying to wake up. She had always liked the sound of rain and fondly remembered the times when she could sit with her father, basking in the warmth of a fire, just listening to the hard rain plodding its way down their thatched roof. She would be wrapped in her father's big cloak, just close enough to the fire that the heat didn't hurt her. Her father would be on the chair beside her, looking at a map or staring into the fire. She would watch. Watch her father's intense eyes, the fluttering creases of the map he was pouring himself over, the rain rolling down their windows. When she grew too tired, she listened. Listened to the rain, to her father's grumblings, the crackling of the fire, until she grew too tired to do either and fell asleep.


She finally woke up, calm but conscious, and kept her eyes closed. For a second she thought she was in front of a fire, sitting with her father, until a faint pain began to tickle at her neck until. The feeling grew until it bit her hard and she instinctively reached for it, feeling only a damp bandage. She opened her eyes and found herself laying comfortably. This was no sick cot, this was someones bed. Where was she? A candle released a soft orange glow that lay atop her thick covers and lit up the room dimly through a thick. A stronger, yet still dim light shone through the open door beyond the foot of her bed. Beside her on a small table was a cup of water and a stick of lavender incense that clouded the room with a heavy smell. She reached for the water quickly. Her mouth was painfully dry and she soaked up the water like a sponge, wondering where she could get more. As she drained the cup she felt her stomach growl with hunger.

'Where am I?' She thought. The room seemed vaguely familiar, but it was clear to her that her mind was groggy with disuse. 'How long have I been sleeping for?'


A woman walked past the door briskly, taking a casual glance into her room. Niera's dazed mind took its time to recognize the familiar face. Gertha turned back around quickly and looked at Niera with wide eyes as a surprised smile took to her face.

"Niera, you're finally awake! We knew you would make it. Everyone knows how strong you are, everyone!" Gertha said. "Stay right here, I'll go get you some food and water. You must be starved after being asleep for so long."

"How long have I been here for?" Niera said with a weak smile, managing only to raise her head slightly off of the straw pillow.

"Oh, my dear, you've been... Sleeping. For just six days. How are you feeling?" Gertha said as she approached Niera to peel back the bandages on her neck. They came off easily enough but Niera felt an uncomfortable sticking of blood as they pulled away from her wound. The familiar pain flickered a brief memory of the man's black gloved hands around her head, the cold touch of the sharp blade resting on her skin. It sent a chill up her spine and her head spun as the memory of the night sliced through her head quickly, but she couldn't dwell on it now.

"I'm feeling alright. Just groggy." Niera said. Gertha continued to inspect at her wounds.

"That makes sense, you lost a lot of... Blood." The word sounded uncomfortable coming from her mouth. "You still have a lot of resting to do, but you *will* be happy to hear that your neck is healing very well. You'll be back on your feet in no time." Gertha said with the wan smile. She spoke without her regular energy, without her warmth.

"Is something wrong Gertha?" Niera asked, forcing herself to sit up in the bed. Using her arms after such long rest felt good, but they had become weak with disuse and they ached under her weight. It just felt good to be moving again.

"I was hoping that you could tell me what happened, only when you're feeling all better of course. You could tell all of us." Gertha said.

"Of course, I can tell what I remember." Then silence. Gertha looked across the the small room. It certainly wasn't at anything in particular. "I'm just so worried for Laryn." Niera was shocked when she mentioned Laryn.

"What do you mean? What happened to Laryn?" Niera's head was spinning, searching her loose memory for Laryn. All she found was the briefest recollection of him rowing frantically, his hard muscles tensing with strength at every push, his calm, green eyes frantic and searching. Something was wrong. 'What happened?' Niera thought.

"Laryn is here. He hasn't... Quite woken up yet." Gertha said, drawing her head away from Niera. "I'm sorry dear, I shouldn't be putting this on you. You should rest, you shouldn't have to think of..."

"Is he ok? Is he hurt?" Niera cut in eagerly.

"He's not hurt, physically at least. You can see him when you're feeling a bit better. When he's feeling a bit better." Gertha said to Niera, then her eyes avoided Niera's and searched the empty room once again. Niera wondered for a moment, then remembered. It all came back in loose recollection.

"Where is my dad?" She said as all of the strength in her arms gathered underneath her, pushing her body perfectly upright. Her head grew dizzy with the strain and she had to fight back nausea, but it was a small price to pay. Gertha's brown eyes grew glassy and wet and a tear betrayed any truth she would have concealed from Niera.

"Where is he?" Niera said breathlessly.

"I'm sorry Niera." Gertha said as she took Niera's hand in hers. "He was... Taken. By the same men that hurt you and Laryn."


Niera stared back at Gertha blankly, almost through her. A deep sadness penetrated her body and made her bones shiver deep inside of her. The room was sticky and hot with incense smoke and steam from a pot of boiling water, but Niera grew cold amidst it all. Her breath quickened and her eyes grew swollen like dam withholding a flood.

"I'm so sorry dear. There was nothing we could do. Laryn tried to save him, to... kill the man, but Laryn was hurt as well. There was nothing that could be done." Gertha said as tears ran down her face, dripping off of her round chin. Watery splotches began to form on the rough spun fabric of the blanket under Gertha's face.

"I don't understand." Niera said in a hard voice, her tongue pushing each word out of her shut teeth.

"No one does." Gertha finished. There wasn't much more to be said. She simply did not know. Niera was left in the dark just as much as anyone else. Just as confused as the rest of the village; except she had lost a father.


"There are some hot oats and honey for you Niera, I won't be long." Gertha said with a caring face as she took her hand away from Niera's. "I'm sorry dear. I'm so..." A tear formed in the corner of Gertha's eye, but she turned and left before it had time to drop. When Gertha took her hand away, Niera felt cold. Before she had a chance to be sad, her mind forced her to remember. Remember what had happened on the ship.


She felt the heat of the man's gloved hand gripping her head suddenly; the creeping cold of his blade on her neck; the steady drip of hot blood down her chest. She heard Laryn's voice loud over her captor's, but the man was so close to her and Laryn's voice seemed so far, so far from help. The man's stubbly beard pressed like pincers into her soft cheek, his hot breath like a fog on her neck. He smelled of death. Suddenly a shining blade of silver appeared out of the corner of her eye streaming a red ribbon of blood behind it. Her legs dropped her onto her knees, weak from the loss of blood. Then, there was nothing.


She looked down at herself now, but her chest was clean and her neck bandaged. She clenched her face tight as if it would help her remember.


She was on a boat again a different, smaller boat this time, now on her back. She lay down with her head against the hard wooden seat of the row-boat and looked up blearily. Her father's face was dark, outlined only in the moonlight from the still lake. He looked over the edge of the boat at her. His face wound tightly, his eyes opening and closing with great force.

"I love you girl." Her memory played back in his gruff voice, and his lips, clouded and distant in the fog of rememberance, confirmed his gentle words.

'I love you.' Niera thought. She tested the words, silently mouthing them to herself, hoping Murr could hear. It was something her father rarely said, and something she rarely shared. His words replayed in her head over and again. Even when she opened her eyes, his voice stayed. She didn't mind.


Then Murr disappeared, and so did her memory. She opened her eyes and sat in the bed helpless. The lavender scented smoke from the incense drifted around her, but all of its healing had been done. Niera threw a furious hand at the scented smoke, dashing it across the room only for it to form once again in front of her face. She swiped at it in frustration with her other hand, and again and again as she screamed at it. She sent a final hand at it, but seconds later it came back to rest in front of her face, filling her nostrils with its putrid smell. She felt weak. Weak and alone. Her lips began to quiver and her eyes followed, releasing a torrent of sadness which she tried in vain to force back. She choked on deep sobs which came from the bottom of her heart and her eyes quickly grew red with pain from the heavy surge of hot tears that flooded down her face. She stabbed her leg with her fist, slamming it down in anger.

"Useless." She said to herself through clenched teeth as she hit her leg again. "You. Could. Have. Saved. Him." The biting words crept from her mouth like wolves, their sharp fangs finding a home in her mind until she truly believed it. She wanted to believe it. She failed her father just as she had failed Laryn. Useless. Again and again she beat her leg. It was what she deserved. She felt it bruising, but only slightly. Her arms were still weak. She kept beating on her leg and a dull pain rose in her from over exertion rather than the bruise. She breathed heavily now and her face grew red. She wanted her leg to hurt, but she couldn't find the strength. She couldn't even hurt herself.


The smell of hot oats and honey crept through the overpowering lavender and found Niera before Gertha appeared in the door. She walked in balancing a tray of steaming oatmeal and herbal water.

"You need to eat dear. Have some." Gertha said with a tenderness in her voice as she placed the tray on the blanket that stretched over Niera's legs and took a seat on the bed next to her.

"I could have saved Laryn. I could have saved Father. It's my fault Laryn's hurt. It's my fault my dad is gone. They had to save me." Niera said at the wall, partly to herself, partly to Gertha, partly to no one at all. Niera turned and looked into Gertha's kind brown eyes, free of judgement and full of understanding. Another well of tears came from Niera's swollen red eyes. Niera felt Gertha's thin arms wrap around her tightly. They felt like blankets. They carried so much warmth and love. Niera rested her head on Gertha's shoulder and her tears wetted Gertha's brown tunic.

"Thank you." Was all Niera could say as tears made her choke on every other word.

"Don't thank me dear. Just let it out. Let it out."

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