Page 195 of Eldritch
“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.
