Page 240 of Eldritch
A sharp, agonizing pain pierced Zevander’s back and he collapsed to his knees. Searing heat shot through his veins like wildfire and Zevander clenched his teeth as it sank like blades into his muscles. He turned to see the massive scorpion rearing up for another strike and before Zevander could dodge it, the stinger struck his ribs, his arm, his back.
He let out a bellow of pain as it stabbed him repeatedly.
“Did you know that a scorpion is immune to his own venom?” Cadavros stood inside the circle of flames, his bare feet slipping past Zevander as he paced beside him. “Yet, when girt by fire, they sting themselves. Over and over. A desperatelonging for death when there’s no means of escape from their suffering.”
Zevander’s arms trembled as he fought to hold himself up while the metallic stinger punched into his flesh once again. He collapsed onto the floor, his body twitching, curling into itself. “He was real. I saw him. He fucking stabbed me!”
“You stabbed yourself.” The moment he spoke the words, a memory split through Zevander’s mind like a festering wound. He winced at the image of him standing alone in the middle of Foxglove’s village, icy rain pouring down on him as he ran his own blade across his abdomen. How he’d sliced his own arm while walking through the broken window of the empty chandlery. His lip twisted in disgust, the stones of the floor beneath him blurring as he stared off, lost in the memory.
“The guilt you’ve carried all these years, the hell that lives inside your mind, has grown like rot inside of you. Vaelora, poor Vaelora.” Cadavros’s voice was a distant sound beneath the thud of blood pulsing in Zevander’s ears. “The father you couldn’t save. The mother and siblings you couldn’t protect. And Theron. She killed him when he spoke foryou, when he willingly chose torture to ensure your freedom, and your mind cannot forgive you for it. The absence of vivicantem brought it to life with such scathing clarity that you can’t even face it.” Cadavros knelt beside him, a look of pity in his eyes as he stared down at him. “And at your weakest, your own venom has destroyed you. Corroded your insides.” The scorpion drew back for another strike and Cadavros threw out his hand, blocking the attack. The tip of the stinger met his palm but failed to penetrate it. Cadavros lifted his nose in the air and sniffed. He held out his other hand and the vivicantem that Zevander had stuffed into his pocket shot out into the mage’s palm. Cadavros smiled as he held it up in front of him. “It is time to embrace those flames. To remember the pain you suffered while two kings watched inapathy. An assassin does not feel empathy or guilt. He neither mourns nor loves. This self-destruction ends now. We have a ward to destroy.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
MAEVYTH
“Why am I here again?” Brows pinched together, Corwin glanced up at the sky and back, while standing wedged between the priestess and Aleysia in a clearing where we had a much better view of the mountain’s summit.
Arms crossed, Aleysia shrugged. “I thought since you’re good with horses, you might be able to help Maevyth out.”
I’d have found her logic amusing, if my head hadn’t been locked in a state of panic right then.
“Horses? Yes.” His eyes trailed upward again, as if Raivox might swoop down at any moment. “The unnatural beast that follows you around? No. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“Well, how about some helpful pointers,” Aleysia said. “That would be a start.”
“Hold on? Don’t spit into the wind? Ehhh …” He shook his head. “Try not to piss him off?”
With a groan, Aleysia rolled her eyes. “Well, if you’re not going to help then you may as well leave.”
“Isn’t she the mystical all-knowing woman of the mountains?” he asked, gesturing toward the priestess.
Erithanya huffed. “It’s as I already told Maevyth. I can show herhowto use the glove. But I don’t know about riding the beast.” She waved a hand at me. “Call on your Corvugon.”
“Now?” Corwin stepped back, fingers toying with a feather he’d worn the night before and hadn’t bothered to remove. “Shouldn’t we prepare somehow? Perhaps have a goat ready in case he’s hungry?”
Sighing, I tipped my head back and cleared my throat, cheeks burning with humiliation. I whistled for Raivox, and when he didn’t appear right away, I glanced toward her. “Perhaps he’s opted to ignore me this time. He’s somewhat stubborn. Frustrating, really.”
“He’s also massive,” Aleysia added. “Perhaps you might give him a minute?”
Moments later, an immense winged shadow sliced through the clouds and Raivox let out a screech.
The priestess smiled, turning toward me. “They are stubborn but loyal.”
Raivox touched down on a thunderclap and shook his feathers, stretching them outward in either direction.
“My goodness, you never really get used to the size of him, do you?” Corwin let out a nervous chuckle, backing up a few steps.
Raivox croaked and sharpened his beak on the rock underfoot.
The priestess stepped closer to him “The glove connects the two of you. Soul to soul. Touch him.”
Impatiently, I strode up to him and reached out my hand, running my hands over his rough scales. A fierce vibration thrummed across my palm, and I drew back with a frown. I reached out again and as if our heartbeats were one, I felt asteady thud at the top of my hand, up my arm, into my chest. Raivox shivered but didn’t break our connection.
“Good. He senses you. Now climb onto him.”
I yanked my hand away and trailed my gaze up the length of his body. A wall of scales and feathers that must’ve reached fifteen meters in height. “Climb him?”
“How else do you imagine riding a Corvugon?”
