Eldritch, p.50
Eldritch, page 50
“You’re full of useless information, aren’t you?”
Vane let out a slight whicker as Zevander brushed his hand down its forehead to its muzzle.
“I find it fascinating, actually.”
“Of course you do.”
Corwin fished out some straw from a net hanging just outside the stall and fed it to the horse he petted. “The, um…dragon bird outside. Is it safe? Or should we just remain here until civilization rebuilds itself and avoid the possibility of dying?”
“You’re not required to go. In fact, I recommend you stay.”
“I’d prefer to follow the group. I just thought the group might be inclined to not leave the highly secured temple.”
“Highly secured?” Zevander snorted at that. “Two young women managed to gain entry without breaking much of a sweat.”
“I see.” Corwin’s brows lowered. “I just assumed you blew the doors off. Okay, then. Onward.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
MAEVYTH
Zevander’s arm banded tightly around my midsection, his other hand relaxed on the reins, as the horse we rode trotted along the misty path. Despite the wintry chill in the air, my cloak had become too warm, the heat of his body leaching through the fabric at my back. High above us, Raivox disappeared into the clouds, only a faint silhouette visible, as he soared overhead.
It’d been years since I’d last traveled beyond the walls of Foxglove. Grandfather Bronwick had occasionally taken us to neighboring villages, peddling his wine, but outside of those few small excursions, I’d never left the village where I’d grown up.
The misty Hadrona River dragged itself at a snail’s pace alongside us, its steam pockets, scattered along the notoriously black banks, expelling white clouds that settled over the ground and melted the frost covering the other side of the path. Hooves clopping through the mud, the horses seemed unbothered by the hissing, each time the river belched its horrific sulfur odor.
“It’s believed that drinking the water of the Hadrona causes madness,” Corwin said from behind, as he rode his own horse, guiding one of the more nervous horses behind him. “There’s apparently a parasite in there that’s known to infect the brain.”
“Parasite?” Aleysia asked, her arms wrapped around Father, as their shared horse plodded along. Father had managed to scrounge one of the red robes from back at the temple, sticking out like a splotch of red against the dark trees and muck.
“Yes, a tiny worm that infects the brain. It’s quite fascinating. I brought the book from the library,” he said, patting the satchel hooked to his saddle. “If you’re interested, I’m happy to read to you.”
“I can read it myself, thank you,” she hurled back with the sharpness of a blade.
Father frowned, peering over his shoulder. “How?”
“Grandfather. He thought it was ridiculous that women weren’t permitted to read.”
Father sighed and faced forward again. “He was probably right. Seems to matter very little these days.”
The path curved through a tunnel of trees. Contained by the wooded canopy overhead, the mist from the river created a veil of fog that made it impossible to see beyond a few meters.
“Help!” someone called from a distance. “Wait!” An obscure figure ran through the trees toward us, and I felt Zevander tense at my back, his hand moving from my body to the hilt of his sword.
I clutched his wrist. “Wait.”
The mist parted for a man wearing the telling surcoat of a Vonkovyan soldier as he hobbled toward us. He held both hands in the air, indicating he wasn’t carrying a weapon. That we could see, anyway. “Please! I’m begging you. We were attacked. My …. My friend is injured. I think he might’ve suffered a bite.” He turned his attention toward Corwin. “Might you spare your extra horse?”
“No,” Zevander said tonelessly. He gave a soft kick to our horse’s flank, setting it back in motion.
“Please, please!” The man lurched ahead of us, bringing us to a stop once more. “Do you…at least have something to eat? It’s been days.”
“No,” Zevander said again before I could respond, and gave Vane another nudge.
Frowning, I glanced back at the man who stared after us, his shoulders slumped in defeat. “Stop the horse, Zevander.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because he’ll likely starve, if we don’t offer something.”
“He’s fated to die, anyway, if he refuses to leave his friend behind.” The way his cold words slipped so easily from his mouth had me scowling.
“What if that were me lying injured? Would you be so quick to leave me behind?”
“No. I’d carry you to safety.”
“Well, not everyone is a nearly seven-foot-tall mancer with blood magic. Perhaps you might offer a bit of grace.”
The stranger shot past us again, this time holding a dagger in his hand. Just as before, Zevander tensed at my back. “I’m afraid I must insist that you give me the horse and some food.”
“You intend to fight dagger to sword?” A cruel and taunting amusement dripped like venom from Zevander’s voice.
“This dagger is laced with poison.” The stranger lurched closer, his free hand outstretched toward my leg, as though he might try to grab hold of me, but he hesitated instead. “It’s a very potent concoction that dissolves the veins, causing internal—”
There was a quick shifting behind me and a flash of black in my periphery.
Zevander’s sword plunged through the soldier’s neck in a snake-like strike.
A collective gasp echoed from behind.
“Oh, my god!” Father exclaimed, giving the sign of the cross.
A slithering cold slipped through my ribs, filling my lungs.
Eyes wide, the soldier gurgled and coughed, and when Zevander withdrew the sword, he collapsed to his knees, hand to his throat, failing to stifle the blood pouring out of his neck.
“What have you done!” I said, climbing off the horse before he could stop me.
“He threatened to dissolve your veins with a poisonous dagger.” He spoke with an unsettling calm that sent a chill rippling through my spine.
“He threatened all of us!”
“Any threat is a threat against you, and I will react accordingly.”
The soldier teetered to the side, sputtering and coughing, until, at last, his mouth gasped for one final breath, and he stilled.
Father strode toward us, his posture tense and hostile. “You stab a man begging for help?”
On some strange instinct, I shot to my feet, holding out my palm. Not to summon a glyph against him, but to warn him away from the danger he was unwittingly inviting. Not just from Zevander, either, as Raivox’s shadow passed over the ground. “Back away, Father.”
“He was starving! Do you not know how desperate hunger can make a man?”
“He’s dead,” Zevander said coldly, never taking his eyes off me. “Nothing I can do about it now. We should be going, if we want to make it there before nightfall.”
“You can’t leave them.” I trailed my gaze over the thick, misty forest. “His friend is injured in the woods, and this one must be buried.”
“You can’t bury every slain body.”
“It wasn’t slain before you plunged your sword in his throat!” I argued back.
“As I told you. He was a threat.” Still astride Vane, Zevander raised a brow and leaned forward, resting his bent arm against his thigh. “Everyone is a fucking threat where you’re concerned, until proven otherwise.”
I braced my hands on my hips, and while I may have been smaller by comparison, I refused to relent in the argument. “And your plan is to kill first and ask questions after?”
“Yes. If that’s what it takes to keep you safe in these lands, I will kill every one of them. That is who I am. That is what I do.”
“You kill bad men. Not innocents.”
His eyes gleamed with a dark and wicked mirth that sent an unsettling chill across the back of my neck. “Is that what you think? That I execute based on their lack of morals, like a vigilante? I kill for coin. It doesn’t matter to me who, or what, they are.”
“Do I matter to you?”
He dropped from Vane’s saddle and stepped forward, looming over me like a storm. “You are all that matters to me.”
“If that is true, then I am asking you not to take innocent lives in my name. If you place any value on my words and my thoughts, you will pause before you lift that blade to a throat.” I stepped closer and lowered my voice. “And if your mind fails you, and you are uncertain, you will trust me to guide you back to yourself. Can you trust me?”
His eye twitched. “I do.”
“Good. Then, we should figure out what to do with his body. Can you turn him into a bloodstone?”
“I’m not wasting what little blood magic I have at my disposal to turn him into a bloodstone.” He jerked his head toward him, lips twisted in disgust. “The animals will feed on him.”
“There are no animals here. They’ve all been killed by those creatures!”
No sooner had the words poured out of me than Raivox swooped down and landed with a thud that shook the ground.
Corwin let out a high-pitched scream, and the horses reared up and whinnied. In trying to control his own horse, Corwin let loose the other, and it galloped off.
Father gathered the reins of his own horse, when Aleysia slid back, clutching him as she struggled to remain in the saddle.
Like a bird picking the seed from its shell, Raivox plucked the soldier from his armor and flew upward, the body dangling from his maw. Tendrils of shock pricked the back of my neck as I watched him toss the soldier into the air and swallow him in one gulp.
“Red God in Heaven!” Hand to his chest, Father looked about ready to fall off his mount .
“Well,” Aleysia let out a small chuckle. “It’s settled then. Shall we be off?”
“No,” I snapped, sailing a glare back at her. “We’re going to find his friend and offer some food. That’s the least we can do.”
Zevander groaned and shoved the horse’s reins toward me. “I’ll go. You stay with Vane.”
“No. I’m coming with you.”
He growled a sound of disapproval and handed the reins to Father, instead.
I glared after him as we retraced our steps back to where the soldier had first ran out toward us. Zevander kept his head angled toward the ground, where footprints marked the soft mud until they could no longer be seen in the vegetation of the forest floor. We kept a straight path through the woods for a few more meters, where we came upon a makeshift camp with the slowly dying embers of a fire, a water sac, another red surcoat, but no sign of an injured friend.
Zevander lifted the sac and poured out the black fluid inside. “My guess is, he drank the water and became infected by it. Lost his senses.” He tossed away the empty water sac and pointed toward a small mound of snow-dusted dirt a little way off. A grave.
“You’ve lost your senses a time, or two,” I said. “I don’t think that’s cause to take a life.”
The moment I spoke the words, it occurred to me exactly what troubled me most of all. Despite his hostility, I’d seen vulnerability in Zevander, those times when he wasn’t himself. As if something inside of him were silently pleading for help, and it crushed me to imagine someone hurting him in that moment.
“That is where we disagree. Had he remained friendly, I’d have spared him. But he didn’t. He threatened us. You.” He strode toward me and brushed his thumb gently across my cheek. “And if ever I raise a dagger, or hand, to you again, no matter my state of mind, I’ll expect you to react the same.” His words spun me back to when he’d plunged the sword into the soldier’s throat.
The very thought had the rims of my eyes tingling with the threat of tears.
“Let’s head back. We’ve got a long journey ahead.” A kiss to my forehead, and he headed back the way we’d come.
“No,” Father said, refusing to dismount. “I say we keep going. Through the night.”
The setback at the river had put us behind a bit, and even setting the horses to a canter for the last hour had failed to put us far enough before nightfall.
“I will not sleep there.” He nodded toward the crumbling remains of a church just a few yards ahead of us, perched on a small, snow-laden hilltop surrounded by the woods.
“Is that the church supposedly swallowed by ghosts?” I asked.
Father grumbled to himself, his face pinched to a scowl.
“According to your map, there is no other village for another half-day’s ride. Besides, it’s better to be on higher ground.” Zevander pointed to the upper level of the church that seemed to remain intact. “That would make the perfect perch to keep watch.”
“And what about that beastly thing.” Father pointed back at Raivox, who sat a short distance away preening his feathers. “I’m sure he does a fine job of keeping just about any threat away.” He looked Zevander up and down. “Except for you, of course.”
“It’s possible he could eat the horses in the night. I’d much prefer they have some form of shelter,” Corwin argued.
“That shelter is undoubtedly crawling with ghosts and evil spirits. Are you comfortable sleeping amongst them?”
Aleysia groaned. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Father. It isn’t haunted!”
“It is! I’m telling you, it’s a bad omen staying here.”
While I might’ve been inclined to defend Father out of principle, after what’d happened earlier in the day, I was too exhausted from travel to consider keeping on through the night. My backside was sore, and I wanted off the damned horse.
“Everywhere we stay is a bad omen these days. Unless you tell me there’s a true threat here, ghosts are the least of my worries.” Zevander gave a nudge to Vane’s flank and headed in the direction of the church.
“Ghosts are a true threat!” Father yelled after him. “An indication of evil!”
While a dilapidated church didn’t exactly promise a luxurious night of sleep, I was relieved that Zevander had put his foot down on the matter.
As we approached the decayed shelter, I took notice of strange fissures along the cracked dirt, much of it covered by the forest’s vegetation. Interspersed in the surrounding forest lay toppled and decayed trees, as if they’d been knocked down by something and left to rot. Frowning, I stared off at an exceptionally large oak that’d been entirely uprooted.
“What do you suppose did that?” I asked as we passed it.
“Could’ve been a violent storm. I’m not entirely familiar with your world to say for certain.”
“We have been known for the occasional tornado, but those roots are so…extensively disturbed.”
Zevander brought the horse to a stop just outside of the church and slid from the saddle. “Stay here. I’ll have a look and make sure the structure is stable.”
“And should it collapse on you while inside?” Gaze trailing up the front of the structure, I estimated it to be about thirty meters in height to the top of its steeple.
“I suppose you’ll have your atonement for what happened in the woods.”
“I don’t wish you dead. Just incredibly remorseful.”
“I’d sooner be crushed by the decayed remains of a church than feel remorse for what I did.” He patted his chest and leg, performing his usual check for weapons, drawing my attention to how many he kept strapped to his body—three daggers across his chest, one at his hip, and, of course, that obnoxious sword at his back.
“And you call me stubborn.”
“I prefer to call it tenaciously protective of what’s mine.”
It didn’t matter that I was frustrated by what he’d done, that damned word still cast a flutter in my stomach. He slipped through the stone archway where a door might’ve been at one time, just as Father, Corwin, and Aleysia trotted up on their horses.
“This is foolish. Absolutely foolish!” Father said, shifting uncomfortably in his saddle.
“Why are you so afraid of ghosts, Father?” My question wasn’t mocking, but curious.
“During my time with the Lyverian priestess, I saw things. The dead. They rose.”
The back of my neck tingled. Could he have possibly seen what I’d seen? Those horribly mangled versions of the dead?
“The priestess showed you visions of this?”
“They worship death. Specifically, a goddess named Morsana.”
It was strange to hear her name in the mortal lands, more so from the mouth of my father, given he didn’t believe in any god but his own. “And what about her?”
“She guides them. And she’s not a benevolent goddess. At times, she is cruel.”
Tell me about it.
“So, you believe the dead still walk the grounds of this place?” I kept on with my prying.
“I’m certain of it. They are angry and hostile. Many of my fellow Red Men have gone missing on their way to Lyveria.”
“Well, there you have it,” Aleysia chimed in, expectedly. “It was a sacton who killed them, so of course they’re angry at clergymen. Probably wasn’t wise of you to wear that damned red robe, Father. You’ve likely doomed us all.”
Zevander strode out of the church, shoving his sword inside the scabbard at his back. “Seems stable. No sign of ghosts.”
While a smile crept over my face, Father’s didn’t carry a speck of amusement.
“It’s early. They’ll be afoot later, and you’ll be sorry you doubted me.”
“Well, until then, I intend to sit on something more comfortable than this damn saddle,” I said, throwing my leg over to dismount.
Hands to my waist, Zevander lifted me off the horse and grabbed the reins, before guiding Vane into the lower level, where stone pillars stood about the broken and busted pews. Inside, vegetation had grown up from the floor, a small sapling taking root where the altar would’ve been, its leggy branches bare and deadened by the cold.
