Page 23 of Eldritch
Zevander shook, his limbs stretched so tight, even the small trembles sent pulses of agony through him. The pain lulled him into a strange delirium, the objects before his eyes becoming echoes of themselves. The laughter and mocking grew distant, while his mind wound back to moments before—what must’ve been a dream. The stranger’s words reverberated through his thoughts.“He lives in you.”A god. How ridiculous!
A string of bloody saliva spilled from his swollen lip, and he let out a strained burst of laughter. His laughter turned hysterical as he imagined how fucking sorrya godmust’ve felt, trapping itself inside the body of a helpless spindling.
The thought made him laugh harder.
“Laughing at me, are you?” Another thunderous crack sent a streak of flames across his skin. Flames. Like sablefyre.
Zevander let out another hoarse wheeze of laughter that ached in his battered ribs where he must’ve been kicked at some point. The clank of metal was only a minor distraction from the maddening hilarity that had taken over him, and he turned when a flash of gold struck his periphery.
The figure at his side knelt to eye level, and through a mist of tears, he could make out the face of the Bellatryx who’d skewered the boy earlier.
“Aren’t you a fascinating creature,” she said, her voice tinged with intrigue. With gentle fingers, she pushed a strand of hair from his face, her touch reminding him of his mother’s.
Zevander ground his teeth, holding back tears as thoughts of his mother arrived with another punishing blow.
“Enough of this. I long to see how this one fares in the mines.” She ran her calloused fingers across his arms, giving a small squeeze when she reached his biceps. “A bit of muscle ought to make him delicious. And once he’s strong enough, you will send him to me.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
MAEVYTH
After a quick breakfast of canned apples, I checked on Aleysia, who remained sleeping, and followed Zevander out into the snowy morning. Reluctant as I was to leave her alone, I couldn’t stomach the hours that would waste away waiting for her to wake. Having found her, it was imperative that I learned to defend her.
Between the trousers I’d borrowed from Elowen, along with a tattered tunic she’d had stored in the dresser, and Zevander’s cloak, I hardly felt clothed enough to take on the cold that rippled across the yard.
Zevander came to a stop in an open expanse of snow and, rubbing his hands together, scanned the surroundings as he turned to face me. “Seems a good place.”
“You’re certain the creatures are mostly nocturnal?” I’d seen an occasional few during the day, but I hadn’t observed them anywhere near as closely as Zevander, to know their behaviors.
Nodding, he swept his gaze over the surroundings once again. “Like hunting spiders. Most try to avoid being prey during the day.”
“What could those things possibly consider to be predators?”
He shrugged and rolled up the sleeves of his tunic, exposing a map of veins across his forearms. “Maybe it’s you they fear.”
“I very much doubt that.” I bit back a smile and glanced away, doing my best to ignore the way his untied tunic offered a peek of his broad chest beneath. Or that his casual stance made training appear absolutely effortless, a mere pastime for a man so skilled in fighting and killing. Powerful, like the world bent to him. In an effort to avoid staring at that damned tunic, I looked back to the cottage we’d left behind. “Can we make this a fairly quick lesson? I don’t like the thought of leaving Aleysia too long.”
“Where are you struggling?”
“The whip.”
“You’re grasping at a more advanced glyph.”
“I saw what it can do.” I traced the scar on my palm. “Unfortunately, it wasn’t me controlling it.”
“Who controlled it?”
I hesitated to say at first, for fear he’d think I was losing my senses. “Morsana. The one who’s come to me each time I’ve fallen into Caligorya.”
“While you were conscious?” A troubled expression crawled across his face when I nodded. “I didn’t think that was possible.”
“What does this mean?”
“That your whip is connected to a darker form of magic. One I suspect you’re hesitant to tap into. And rightly so, because it’s proven to be powerful, but it’s the only way to effectively defend yourself against these creatures.”
“I would not be standing out here in the cold, if I were hesitant.”
Hands braced at his hips, he sighed. “Dolion made the mistake of telling you what the whip is capable of doing. You fear hurting others. That is your hesitation. You have to want to hurt.To kill. You have to want to inflict death, but you grapple with your conscience.”
