Verra Of Wolves
The Grimoire Series I
Blake Thunderport
Copyright © 2020 Blake Thunderport
Self-published
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
The World
Epigraph
1. New Shores
2. Tholome’s Lock
3. Moon-Face
4. Strawberry
5. Rose Petals
6. Siren’s Voice
7. Offering
8. Underworld
9. Mage
10. Intentions
11. Secret
12. Family
13. Calling
14. Chains
15. Promised Lifestyle
16. Successor
17. Happy Birthday
18. Proposal
19. Black Magic
20. Decision
21. Parlor
22. Reunion
23. Clarity
24. Consequences
25. Destiny
Acknowledgements
Afterword
The World
Second Era of Peace, Year 219
Year 1154 A.E.
Sister, know no shame;
you needn’t hide
your wolfishness
within a sheepish frame.
—Elizabeth Knight
1. New Shores
Nearly three weeks had passed, stuck on a boat with seventeen pirates who counted twenty as they took sail. But who could have blamed the illiterate men? Certainly not me, who asked to get smuggled across the sea, without looking back at the desert continent. Without saying goodbye.
“Oi, Verra.” Someone knocked on the iron bars. “Yer wake?”
Turning around, I recognised the familiar voice of Deg, ‘the sea-leg’ they called him. He was the youngest pirate on board, fifteen or sixteen years old, wishing to forget his past while he hunted down treasures—just like the rest of the crew did. His cabin was across from the prison in which I slept with locked doors for obvious reasons.
“Aye,” I said, proud to answer like a pirate.
“Makin’ fun of us, what?”
I took the key out of my pocket and gave it to him so he would open the door. He was the only one I trusted.
“Are we there?”
“Not yet,” he answered. “Had to detour a bit but worry not, me lass.”
He sat down beside me where we remained silent for a few minutes, enjoying the crashing waves against the ship. They were stronger under the influence of the full moon, rocking the seamen to sleep.
“Ye might try a lad’s cabin if ye like,” he said, unable to find a comfortable spot on the prisoner’s hay-bed.
“Next time I want to get raped, I might.”
“Oi, me mates won’t touch a weak lass!” Deg exclaimed and his cheeks flushed red. He scratched his blonde head, seemingly unsure if The Virgin Wench turned vicious criminals into gentlemen. He didn’t want to make false promises and quietly added, “I’d protect ye.”
I laid my head on his shoulder like many times before. It was the last piece of home I had. The Desert’s heat radiated from his sunburnt skin and I sucked it all in. The surrounding mist reminded me that spring nights were colder in the North, and I wondered if the summers were colder, too. Imagining the new land left goosebumps on my pale skin, and Deg insisted on bringing me another blanket.
The second he disappeared, I grabbed inside my bag and pulled out various bottles of different sizes and searched through them. The creaking wood announcing his return made me jump and worsened the already shaky hands. I grabbed the tiny jar I was looking for and placed it into my lap while shoving the others back into their place—but he was already standing in front of me, presenting the blanket.
The candlelight behind his back made him appear faceless, but I didn’t fear him. I had put all my faith in him to bring me safely across the sea, I trusted him in keeping a secret.
“Here,” I said. “We won’t see each other for a long time, better make it last.”
I opened the lid and let him taste the green cream. The reason his breath was fresh, unlike those of the other crew-members. That’s how I’d paid him more often than I would’ve liked. He was the only pirate willing to make fair trades with a Witch, or a wench. I wasn’t sure what they called me. Toothpaste, however, had always been a luxury item. I saved him a fortune, maybe that’s why we got along so well.
With sparkling eyes, he pulled the blanket over my shoulders and hugged me. He smelled of sweat, which I didn’t mind. Moreover, I preferred it. That way I was able to identify him blindly.
When I buried my head in his chest, Deg patted me. It had been a long time since someone held me, thankful for what I did instead of afraid. My eyes burned, but I held the tears back with tightly curled fists. Compared to him, I had no reason to cry. He was younger and orphaned. It was him who deserved to lie in a mother’s loving wing.
“There’s something else,” I mumbled, but was interrupted by the lookout above.
“Land ahoy!” His muffled shout woke the seamen for their shift.
Deg sprinted back into his cabin, then up on deck, leaving me with a shy smile.
Hastily I stuffed the rest of my belongings into my bag, finally leaving the prison cell behind, ready to set foot on the foreign continent.
Green.
All of it. The coast, the mountains, even the water, everything seemed green to me.
I watched Deg glancing at me as he tied knots on deck while wondering if I would miss the Orange Desert at some point.
With a big smile, he ran up to me.
“Guess that’s where I leave ye, lass,” he said, and his smile disappeared. I clasped his hand. The next moment we locked eyes one last time.
“Thank you, for protecting me,” I said.
A stabbing pain hit my chest, cutting out a chunk of my heart when I’d let go of him.
The Captain called, “Show a leg up here, sea-leg, tell yer wench she has to go!”
“Aye,” Deg answered, but as soon as he turned around I already sank
