Page 60 of Eldritch
The clatter of a tin bowl thrown before him broke his musings, and Zevander turned to see black soot splashed onto the floor.
A malicious chuckle followed. “Was goin’a toss him into the chasm, but thought you might want to pay your final respects. Who’s born of fire now?” Another mocking laugh, and every muscle in Zevander’s body tensed as he stared down at what was presumably his father’s charred remains.
Their laughter died when the heavy thud of boots and metal approached from down the hall, and Zevander looked up to see General Loyce step inside his cell, filling the space with her intimidating form.
“Well, now. The mighty beast who killed the most feared orgoth in Bonegrist. You look far less threatening chained to the floor, don’t you?” The slow and lazy cadence of her steps ended when she stood looming over Zevander like a storm cloud consuming what sliver of light had reached his cell. “Knees, boy.”
Teeth clenched, Zevander didn’t move. He didn’t cower in her presence, or fear the consequences that would inevitably follow his defiance.
“Come on now—rise from the ashesand get on your knees,” the warden taunted beside her, but his laughter cut out abruptly when he turned toward the unamused expression on the general’s face.
Lips twisted, as if the sight of the warden disgusted her, she turned back to Zevander. “I’ll not tell you again. Get on your knees.”
Still, he refused.
A swift kick to his mangled ankle shot a zap of fire up his leg, and Zevander ground his teeth, choking back the agony. Nomatter what they inflicted, he would never willingly get on his knees for anyone.
“Very well,” she said, as if reading his mind. Moments later, an orgoth stepped toward him. The orgoth whose hands still bore the stains of his father’s blood.
Zevander sat motionless as the beast bent forward to hoist him up, and the second the orgoth was close, he clamped his teeth around the bastard’s pointed ear.
A roar bounced off the walls of the cell, and a hard thump against his chest kicked Zevander back, his tailbone smacking hard against the stone floor.
He winced and turned to his side, as the orgoth stepped back, terror widening the beast’s eyes when he cupped his ear.
Zevander forced a smile, despite the rage tearing through him, and revealed the small piece of flesh between his teeth, before spitting it out at the orgoth.
The beast snarled and lurched again, but General Loyce held out her hand, bringing him to a halt.
“Get him to his kneeswithoutcrushing him.”
Snarling again, the orgoth held his hand over the chewed and bloody ear and, with the other, gripped the back of Zevander’s neck, the shocks of pain damn near paralyzing as he effortlessly lifted Zevander up to his knees.
“Open your mouth.”
Lips clamped shut, Zevander defied the new order, already knowing the general’s intentions.
“I said, open your mouth!”
Copper lingered on his tongue from biting the orgoth, and he spat it at General Loyce.
Without warning, or direction from the general, the orgoth took hold of his face, his thick, calloused palm pressing against his chin, while the other gripped tight to the top of his head.Jagged flashes of light struck the back of Zevander’s skull, and eyes clenched, he fought the orgoth’s ruthless prying of his jaw.
Dry, charred ashes coated his tongue, the sounds of his angry growls drowned by the laughter of both the warden and the orgoth.
“Now, swallow,” General Loyce said through clenched teeth, not an ounce of amusement in her tone.
Once free of the orgoth’s grip, Zevander coughed, the ash bursting from his mouth as a gray plume of dust. He retched and gagged, spitting the wet soot onto the ground.
The metal of her armor clanked, as General Loyce crouched alongside him. “So much fire and spirit. Oh, how I long to break you.” She brushed a finger across his cheek, and with a grimace, Zevander turned away from her touch. “I leave for Luximos tonight. Have him sent over to me in three days. Preferably bathed.”
“Of course, General.”
She pushed to her feet. “And no more beatings, or I’ll have you chained alongside him.”
“Understood,” the warden grumbled, clearly disappointed.
Without another word, she swiftly left the cell, and Zevander stared down at boot marks stamped onto the floor in his father’s ashes. A fresh wave of rage surged through him.
