The Strangest (Book #2)

10: The Nest

THAQRID JAMAR

"I'm starving," Tosha mumbled after he flopped onto the sofa beside him.

Coats of dust puffed into the air around them. Thaqrid frowned and waved it from his face in pure annoyance.

"Stating the obvious will not bring relief," Thaqrid said shading detail into the Fiisen's face. His drawing of the Soother fast asleep now looked unbelievably realistic since he began it in the dark muggy base. It appeared as realistic as it still did in his head.

Tosha leaned into his personal space. "You should color it," he said.

Thaqrid Jamar gave a sigh, a sigh bouncing between annoyance, exhaustion, and hunger. Indeed, they hadn't eaten a thing since they left the Trade Port. The food they did bring along was gone by the time they found their way to the base. Apparently, what memory Narssina had of the underway of Ardania had faded over the years. But it didn't bother him. He had vowed to follow her until death claimed him or another opportunity presented itself.

Tosha must've felt his aura because he pulled away. Something crashed to the floor, catching their attention to the far left of the den. Narssina gave an irritated growl that echoed against the old black cobblestone walls. The candles they lit in the webbed chandelier above flickered from her chill consuming the den. Tosha sighed.

"Where is it!" Narssina screamed. With her power she blasted dust-coated items off a table across the room. They crashed or shattered to the floor. The fire in the hearth flickered wild and crackled against the dark magic eagerly trying to smother it.

"We've looked high and low, my queen," Horas said. The pale skinned Cardian sat two stacks of crates onto a table. "Perhaps, they found it when they cleaned out The Nest."

This thought only made her angrier. Her dark magic exploded about the den like tentacles. Each one dug, slithered, crashed, or penetrated something as Narssina mentally felt for what she had been searching for since arriving. Her body trembled in the action only to grace them with another frustrated scream. The fire in the hearth ceased like air being sucked from the mouth of a babe, killing it in a blink of an eye. Her dark magic slithered back into her body, and she leaned onto a thick round table and drooped her head.

"Damn," Tosha muttered. He rubbed a hand over his tatted bald head and went to rekindle the fire.

"Don't worry. We will find it," Horas said though his rough hoarse voice did not match his assurance.

None of the Conjurers were phased by Narssina's wild outburst. It wasn't like she hadn't done it plenty of times before. So Thaqrid continued shading the final etches of detail then took a minute to marvel the masterpiece. He called all his work masterpieces. Coloring it wouldn't be a problem, but he'd left his colored charcoals on the ship. The striking red of the Fiisen's hair and armor would've been satisfying to repeat.

A hand snatched his journal from his hands and the power of his magic rampaged through him like a tidal wave. He glared up at Narssina as she threw it across the den. He jumped to his feet, hands clenched at his sides as it smacked the bars of one of the three cells.

"Really Narssina? Really?"

Narssina closed the short distance between them, anger filtering her honey -colored eyes.

"You are vowed to me, boy. And right now, is not the time to draw. Go and help your brothers," she screamed into his face.

Thaqrid's body trembled wishing to blast this ridiculous woman, but he knew he couldn't. He couldn't even if he wanted to or if he tried. He bore holes into her masked face, unafraid like the other Conjurers who cowered at her every word and every action.