Page 197 of Eldritch
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.
“Ghostsarea 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.”
