The Magical Legacy

ROSS 7

BLARJORD, DYRRHEIM - PRESENT DAY

Rolling onto his side, Ross closed his eyes, and was just drifting off to sleep, when the rickety door to his hut burst open.

Looking up, he saw a small green person entering the room carrying a wooden tray. The boy couldn't have been much younger than Ross was.

Pushing himself into a seated position, he inhaled deeply. The smell of roasted meat and vegetables assaulted his nasal passages, and his stomach growled loudly in response.

"You're going to need nourishment if you intend to heal," the boy said, as he placed the tray down on the end of the make-shift bed, and stepped back. Turning to the doorway, he leaned around the corner, and bent over to lift something off of the ground. Re-entering the hut, he walked to where Ross was sitting, and placed a brown ceramic cup next a large, clay bowl resting on the tray. He then began to fill the cup with clear liquid from a matching ceramic pitcher.

"Thanks," Ross mumbled, wiping his mouth on the back of his shirt sleeve, then sitting up a little taller.

"I was hungry before you people kidnapped me," he growled, "but now I'm sick to my stomach, and vomiting. So, I don't think I can eat."

The boy had the same pea—green-colored skin as the others he'd seen in this community. But unlike the bulging muscles on the over-sized males he'd observed, this youngster hadn't yet grown into the physique of an adult male of the species.

The boy pulled his mouth to the side, his pitch-black eyes staring intently at the display before him.

"You people?" The kid tipped his head to the side, long strands of black bangs fell across his broad forehead, covering one eye. He wrinkled his pierced nose and shrugged his narrow shoulders. "Whatever." He paused, tossing his head to get the hair out of his face. "They said you have a concussion." He was speaking English, but his voice was husky and he had a bit of a lisp. "I'm not supposed to talk to you. Eat what you can, and be sure to stay hydrated. I'll bring more food tomorrow. Try to get some rest."

The boy turned and walked out of the space, closing the rickety door behind him.

Ross's attention turned to the dishes on his bed, but bending over the tray made his head swim. He closed his eyes, and planted both feet firmly on the ground, placing his hands flat on the woven surface beneath him for balance. The aroma wafted up from the bowl, and he opened his eyes again. Food did smell good, and he reached down to play with the contents inside the bowl. Lifting a spoonful of broth to his nose, he inhaled deeply. Surprisingly, the soup appeared rich and savory. Unlike the watery liquid he would expect to be served to prisoners. But he just couldn't bring himself to eat. Lifting the cup off the tray, he raised it to his lips, and took a small sip. The water was refreshing, and helped to clear the taste of vomit from his mouth.

He shook his head back and forth.

What am I supposed to do now? It was bad enough that I got sucked through that portal and was being held captive by Great Grandma Valdis. Who, not insignificantly, appears to be some kind of vampire.

He wrinkled his nose and scrunched his eyebrows together.

How is it even possible to descend from a vampire? I mean, I thought that meant they were dead?

He jutted his chin out and blinked rapidly several times.

But on top of that, now I've been kidnapped by... whatever these freaky creatures are. They look like characters right out of a fiction story. Yet this seems to be my reality, for the time being.

He let out a puff of air, making his lips pucker.

And to top it all off, I also have a concussion. Just great.