Page 191 of Eldritch
“Oh, here we go again,” Aleysia groaned, slumping into one of the two velvet chairs set before a small hearth. “Never mind that we all saw the scorpion. We’re all apparently delusional. The map you’re staring at might not be real, either. Did you consider that, Father? Perhaps it’s anillusion.”
Father glared back at Aleysia. “I don’t appreciate your mocking tone, young lady. Many are capable of witnessing an illusion at once.”
That he continued to defend a doctrine which had him branded a heretic, and led to him being thrown into a cell and almost burned at the stake, grated on me. “It’s blood magic. And it’s real, Father. I’m not going to waste time convincing you of this. If you don’t intend to help, say so.”
He seemed to chew on my words like they were an unsavory piece of gristle in his mouth. “The northern landscape isn’t like Foxglove. It’s rife with creatures, the likes of which we’ve never seen in these parts. Dangerous creatures. If we stay along the river, here, that will lead us to the foot of the mountains. The Lyverians are a very protective people, but they are not unnecessarily hostile, so long as you do not pose a threat.” He gave a quick glance toward Zevander and cleared his throat. “They are scattered all throughout this stretch here,”he said, pointing to the surrounding forest along the path. “An advantageous route to ambush Vonkovyan soldiers.”
“Who’s to say how protective they’ve become since the world has gone to hell.” Zevander rubbed his jaw, his brows knitted together as he pointed to a different point on the map. “What about this stretch? Seems we could bypass them here.”
Father rolled his shoulders back, straightening himself upright, a look of concern crinkling his brow. It was strange to see the man I’d always thought of as strong and commanding appear so small and brittle beside Zevander. “That one is…not a good idea.”
“Impassable?” Zevander questioned.
“It’s haunted by the dead.”
The mere suggestion tightened my chest. While I’d moved past the shock of seeing the dead, their occasional visits were still troublesome and, as I’d found, not always pleasant. My trepidation seemed to be shared by everyone else in the room, all of whom wore worrisome expressions—except Zevander, of course, who continued studying the map, completely indifferent.
“In the early part of the century, that land was occupied by an entire village,” Father continued. “Members of Foxglove Parish who felt that our doctrines were far too lax. They followed their high sacton to the northern lands and settled there.” He pointed to a portrait on the wall of a man with white hair and bushy gray brows that, somehow, looked even more stern than Sacton Crain. “Sacton Gansley was rumored to have consumed morumberry wine so excessively, it turned him raving mad. The annals describe him as having suffered delirium, hearing voices, seeing things that weren’t there. He claimed there were demons underfoot, in the ground. One day, a trader from Foxglove traveled to their small village in the woods and found nothing there. Not a trace of the people, their animals, their church. Some believed the sacton burned them. Others say an evil entityswallowed them into the depths of Hell. Either way, an entire village disappeared, and anyone who has traveled that path has never returned.”
“Except for the trader who happened upon nothing,” Zevander argued, his tone brimming with boredom. “If you think your ghosts will scare me off, you’re wrong.”
“I speak Lyverian. I could attempt peaceful passage on the other route, except…”
Zevander huffed. “Except …”
Father lowered his gaze. “Except that I didn’t entirely leave on good terms with their priestess.”
Zevander let out a low groan and rolled his shoulders back. “Which could make them more hostile than usual.”
“I’m certain, if given an opportunity to explain, I could?—”
“What in…godssakes!” Corwin strode across the room toward the window, pointing a trembling finger. “Did…d-d-d-did you see something fly by the window just now?” He turned around to face us, his eyes wide. “I swear it was…the most massive…thing I’ve ever seen.” An enormous shadow slid into view behind him, as he stood unaware that Raivox peered in through the window at his back.
“What in God’s name is that!” Father stumbled back from the table, tripping over a chair, which tumbled after him.
Still rigid, Corwin slowly turned his head, and I stepped forward.
“Corwin! Wait.” I held out my hand, shifting my attention between him and the Corvugon behind him. “Quick movements might startle him. Just…before you look, know that he won’t hurt you. Intentionally.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Aleysia said, picking up the brush she’d brought to the library from the table beside her chair. “It is a wild animal and it seems to have its sights set on Corwin. Good thinghe can’t fit through that window or I’d say you’d make a nice, juicy worm to chomp.”
“Aleysia,” I groaned, sailing a look of disapproval back at my sister. “You know nothing about him.”
“Him?” Corwin flicked his head to the side as if to look, but hesitated. “We know it’s ahim? Do we know whathimis?”
Mouth parted, I glanced at Father and back. “He’s a dragon. Of sorts. A bird dragon.”
Corwin forced a smile and nodded, clearly unnerved. “Ah. I see.” When he finally turned around, he gasped and tripped backward, just like Father, only he landed in a nearby chair. “Oh …. Oh. my. He …. He’s quite large, isn’t he?” A nervous laugh flew out of him, as he lazily slid out of the chair, keeping his attention on Raivox while he backed himself to where we all stood. “So, does he eat like a bird, then? Worms? Seeds? That sort of thing?”
“Animals mostly.”
“Of course. I suppose he’d have to eat an entire granary of seeds to fill that body.” Hand to his chest, Corwin closed his eyes and blew out a long breath.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yes, yes. As you were.” He waved toward us. “Just slowing my heart before it leaps out of my mouth. Keep on with your map plotting.”
Raivox continued to peer in on him with the kind of curiosity that left me wondering if hewassizing him up as a meal.
