Page 1 of A Bolt of Magic

1

McColl

I feel myself fading. The mirror, as always, expects too much from me. Using me to the point where my head aches. It pulls…and pulls. I’m being used as a vessel, and it hurts. I grit my teeth against the pain. Sweat beads on my brow. The fae giving his power is beginning to look pale. He is still standing tall, but it won’t last. None of them do. It doesn’t take long before he grits his teeth as well, turning white as a ghost. His back starts to bow as he crouches, falling into himself. His face twisting in pain.

I feel it too.

Agony. On and on…

The mirror is relentless in its pursuit of power.Sheis relentless. Moons, but I hate her. It feels like I have been standing here for days instead of hours. I’m not sure how long I can go on, and I’m not talking about this session. I grit my teeth harder and suck in air. My head feels like it’s going to explode like a ripe melon left in the sun on a scorching day. By now, the sweat is pouring, and I’m shaking.

I feel ill.

“I…I…I can’t…” I croak through parched lips. “I…” I shake my head, gasping as the hold on me is released. I sigh with relief, breathing hard as I try to catch my breath. Bending fully through my middle, I fold my arms around myself as shivers run through me. Nausea rolls in my stomach. It grips me and holds me as more sweat beads on my forehead.

“You’re useless, girl!” The fae overseer shoves me with so much force that I land hard on my knees.

I cry out as pain lances through me. I look up through my tangled hair at the old fae. His eyes are hard and angry. I see fear there, too. There is a small part of me that feels sorry for him. We’re all under pressure.

Every last one of us has to produce, one way or another.

“And you call yourself a witch,” he mutters to himself, shaking his head in disgust. His face is deeply lined. Too wrinkled for a fae. His hair is fully gray, which is unusual, too.

I wince as I pull myself to a standing position. My knees throb. I will have bruises come morning. I sway, working to keep my feet under me. Thankfully, the nausea is subsiding. You have to hold on to all of the positives in a place like this, where they are few and far between.

If he thinks his taunts will have any effect on me, he’s wrong. I’m used to it. I’ve had a lifetime of insults thrown at me, and by people I care more about than this old cod.

“Already used up, and we’ve barely begun,” the overseer spits. Now, all I see is anger and hate etched into the lines of his face. In his eyes, too.

A nearby guard snorts in disgust. Like it has anything to do with him.

“Take her away,” the overseer barks at the same guard, who nods once. “I’m not sure how you’ve lasted this long,” he mutters.

Sheer, stubborn grit. I don’t dare tell him.

The guard takes my arm in an iron-tight grip. I bite back a hiss, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. More bruises to add to the ones I have already.

Bastard!

“If you can’t fill your quota by the end of the week, it’s to the mines, girl. That or the brothel.” He looks me up and down. “That’s if they’ll take you. I’d start thinking about which option you’d prefer, since it’s about to become a reality.”

My options would be death within a year below the ground or years spent on my back. Neither is very enticing.

“I’m trying as hard as I can…I swear,” I tell him, even though it would be best if I held my tongue.

“It looks like trying as hard as you can isn’t good enough,” he snarls. “Not nearly good enough, I’m afraid.” He looks over at the guard standing opposite us. “It looks like we’re going to need fresh blood soon. It might be time for another witch hunt.”

I bite back a sigh, closing my eyes and looking away. My failure means that more of my kind will be ripped away from their homes.

I touch the amulet resting on my chest, looking down at the piece. It’s quite beautiful, a stone of deep emerald embedded in the center, surrounded by intricate gold filigree on a pretty gold necklace.

I hate it.

I wish I could rip it from my neck. With it in place, I am left vulnerable and unable to summon my magic, paltry as it may be. The overseer is right; I’m as good as useless.

I can’t break the chain since it has been spelled by a witch or a sorcerer far more powerful than I am. What am I saying? Most witches are more powerful than I am. I wouldn’t be in so much trouble, about to be sent to the mines, if I had any real magic to speak of. Actually, that’s not true. The infuriating thing is that Ihave plenty of power, just not much access to it. I’m almost as useless as the emptyfae themselves.

Still, if only I could get rid of it. I know all too well what would happen if I tried, and it’s not worth it. The thick gold chain will wrap itself tightly around my neck, choking the life from me. Letting up only as I’m about to pass out. The metal is unbreakable; it may as well be a part of me.

---