Chapter 60

CHAPTER SIXTY

MAEVYTH

L ight danced across my eyelids, and I winced at the brightness, stretching and yawning. A strange vibration shook the bed, the sound of grunting from behind me. I opened my eyes and turned to find Zevander lying beside me, his entire body convulsing. A thick sheen of sweat dampened his skin, his hair plastered to his face. His arms flexed at his side, fists clenched tight.

Frowning, I pushed up from the bed, staring down at his eyes—as black as coal, with tiny black veins branching out from his sockets. A numbing cold tingled across my chest at the sight, the ghostly caress of terror springing goosebumps across my skin.

“Zevander?” I dared myself to touch him, and when I did, a searing heat scorched my fingertips. “Ouch!” I retracted my hand, curling my fingers. Panic rose into my throat. I scrambled out of the bed, careful not to disturb him, and swung the door open. On the other side, Elowen wore a curious expression on her face. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him! I woke up, and he …. He’s not responding to me. He’s burning up.”

She tipped her head and hobbled past me into the room, coming to a stop alongside the bed. Without laying her hands on him, she held her palm over his trembling body and shuttered her eyes. “Abyssal binding.”

“What is that?”

“Something has gripped his mind and refuses to release him. Can happen when you slip into a state of caligorya.”

Caligorya . I remembered the term Dolion had mentioned, the day in the training room when I’d passed out. He’d called it the dark side of the mind.

I glanced to Zevander, whose muscles clenched so tight, it was a wonder they didn’t split right through his skin. “How can we stop it?”

“No way to stop it. That’s why it’s called abyssal. No way to reach him. But we need to bring his fever down.”

“His power is a black flame. Might that have anything to do with it?”

She shrugged and hobbled past me again. “Might. It’d certainly explain his eyes.”

“I … I’ve controlled the black flame before.” I twisted around after her, following her as she made her way to a bowl on the countertop in the kitchen.

“You.” She snorted and headed for the door.

Wearing nothing but Zevander’s tunic, I darted across the room for the cloak he let me borrow, pausing to stare down at his suffering form. An ache wrenched my heart, and careful not to touch his skin, I pushed a strand of his hair from his brow.

“Stay with me,” I whispered and threw the cloak around me.

Instead of opting for the flat slippers I’d worn with my dress, I shoved my feet into his oversized boots that reached to my thighs. With clunky steps, I chased after her into the snow, shivering at the icy cold that bit my exposed skin. A clanking sound drew my attention to the other side of The Hovel, and I jogged as fast as the boots would allow.

I found her beside a well pump, filling the bowl and a pitcher with water. “I’m telling you the truth. I’ve controlled his flame before,” I said, watching her swap the pitcher for the bowl, which she shoved into my chest, sloshing some of it onto my arm.

“No one controls sablefyre. It’s wild and chaotic and does what it wants.” A few pumps of the well filled the pitcher, and she carried it past me.

“Well, whatever is inside of me does a fine job of it.”

The old woman swung around. “And what is inside of you?”

I had no idea how to answer that, and the longer I argued with the woman, the longer Zevander suffered. “Nothing.”

She hmphed and turned back in the direction of the cottage. Once inside, she gathered some apothecary jars from the cupboard—herbs, I guessed—and the two of us returned to Zevander’s side.

There, she worked to unlace the trousers he’d loosened the night before, but never removed. As she gave them a hard yank down his hips, I threw my arm across hers.

“What are you doing?”

“Removing as much of his clothing as possible.” Her bushy brows practically creaked when she raised them. “Have you never brought down a fever, girl?”

I stepped back and turned away, as another hard yank sent his trousers halfway down his thighs, springing his manhood free.

“Dear gods …” The disturbance in Elowen’s voice had me turning back toward him, and my heart shriveled inside my chest.

As Zevander lay convulsing, his length remained stiff against his stomach at full mast. The underside had been crudely pierced with metal bars that ran the exceptional length of it. Scars marred his thighs and groin, as if he’d suffered unimaginable abuse at one time. Skinny white lines that stretched hip to hip, leaving me to imagine he’d taken a whip against his groin. Some carried a deeper scarring, though, as if he’d been cut by a blade.

Elowen ran her finger along one at his thigh. “Poison. Can tell by the thread of violet flesh there,” she said, pointing to the crooked cicatrix where the flesh had sealed together.

Tears wobbled in my eyes, and I turned away, swallowing hard.

“What horrible creature did this?” Elowen shook her head, staring down at him. “Such pain, this young man has suffered.”

“The Solassions did this to him,” I said, teeth clenched to hold back my emotion. The mere sight of his abuse left me wanting to tear every one of them apart. “They enslaved him.” Blinking, I cleared my throat. “Might we offer him some dignity?”

Elowen gave a nod, and I grasped the other side of his trousers, helping her carefully push them back up onto his hips, covering him as before.

She handed me a washcloth, which I dipped into the cold water she’d collected. “Try to cool him down a bit. I’ll see if I’ve a spell somewhere to stop the convulsions,” she said, making her way to the door.

Nodding, I placed the cloth against his skin, and his muscles jerked on contact. With gentle pressure, I dabbed the cloth across his throat and up along his jaw. Another dunk in the water, and I squeezed the excess into the bowl and dabbed the cloth over his cheeks and brow.

Still, he shook beneath me, every muscle seemingly locked tight.

“Zevander,” I whispered. “If you can hear me, please come back.”

I continued to dunk the cloth, adding fresh, cool water to his skin. When I reached his chest, I winced at the rigid state of his muscles, how painful it must’ve been to have them endlessly taut. My own chest ached just looking at him.

“What happened to you?” I dabbed the cloth up by his hairline, careful to avoid his eyes. On closer examination, I couldn’t even see his irises—the entire surface of his eyeball had blackened. I gently placed my hand over his lids to shutter them closed.

Elowen appeared in the doorway. “Gotta grab some herbs from the forest. Shadowroot and foxfell.”

“Should I go with you?”

“No. You stay with him. I shouldn’t be long.”

I turned back to Zevander and continued to dab him, wondering what had hooked its talons inside his mind after I’d fallen asleep.

A n hour must have passed, and I ran the cloth for the hundredth time over his body, listening for Elowen. How difficult must it have been to find the herbs and roots she required?

Zevander still convulsed, his muscles still flinching, but I was able to touch his skin without the burn, at least.

I pushed to my feet and huffed, peering through the window. With no sign of Elowen, I exited the room in search of something I could wear out in the cold to look for her. The room across from ours was neat and clean, the bed made, blankets folded, with a small dresser against the wall. The first three drawers held nothing. It wasn’t until I opened the fourth that I found a pair of old trousers with holes and thinning patches. I slipped them on, the waistband double my size, and I wrapped the laces around me twice to tighten them. Beneath the bed, I spied a pair of leather boots. While still bigger than my feet, they fit snugger than Zevander’s had, so I made the switch before grabbing the cloak.

After checking on Zevander one more time, I headed out the door in search of her.

The temperature must have dropped about ten degrees from when I’d first ventured out that morning. Vonkovya had always been known for some pretty harsh winters, but I couldn’t recall one so bitterly cold.

After a long trek through the snow, I found myself standing before the dreaded archway. Strange that, even after having passed through once, I still hesitated to step into those woods.

A mental image sprang to mind, of Zevander on the bed, and I hustled past the barrier, eyes searching for the older woman. The overcast against the snow reflected a bright light that had my vision blurring.

Not daring to call out to her, I trekked deeper, keeping the archway in sight at all times.

In the distance, I sighted a dark figure in the snow. Careful steps brought me closer, and I kept to the trees, just in case. As I drew nearer, I could make out the pudgy form of Elowen lying on the ground, and with a gasp, I rushed toward her. “Elowen?”

She didn’t move, her eyes closed as if sleeping. Beside her on the ground lay a basket of herbs and roots, and the telling red drops of blood scattered across the snow.

I lifted my gaze to the surrounding forest, performing a quick sweep to make sure there were no animals, or creatures, hidden in the trees. On seeing nothing there, I shook her shoulders. “Elowen?”

She didn’t move, nor so much as flinch.

I yanked up her sleeves and tugged down the scarf at her throat in search of the wound that’d bled. Nothing there. Nothing on her face. Her skirt didn’t carry any evidence of blood. Eyes trailing over the fallen drops of blood, I visually followed the path of it to the back of her neck. With a heave, I pushed her just enough to totter her to the side and found a good chunk of her flesh torn away. Realizing they might’ve been bite marks, I scanned the trees again, and when I lowered her back to the ground her eyes shot open.

Shiny black orbs stared back at me, and as I watched in horror, her forehead swelled, bigger and bigger, her bones creaking as they shifted, swallowing her eyes.

A cold pulse of shock left me paralyzed, while I stared at her slowly lengthening teeth.

Move! Now!

I gathered my feet beneath me to dart away, but her hand shot out, gripping my arm. A wheeze of panic tore out of me, and I clawed at her fingers to loosen them. A rough jerk of my arm sent me flying face first into the snow. I scrambled onto my back, and as I kicked away from her, she scampered toward me on all fours, her mouth the only thing left visible on her face. She let out a terrifying screech that echoed through the forest and climbed over top of me, her impossible strength pinning me beneath her. A snap of her teeth nearly reached my cheek, but I shot out my right hand, grabbing her by the neck.

“Elowen! Please!”

Drool dripped from her teeth onto my chin, and I turned away, straining to hold her from my face. It was as I craned my neck that I noticed an image carved in the bark of a tree a short distance away. It reminded me of two bird’s eyes, opposite of each other and inverted like a mirrored image of one another. So wildly out of place, I couldn’t help but stare. Couldn’t look away, as some invisible force seemed to anchor my attention there. I stared at it, studying it. Time slowed. The muscles in my arms shook, threatening to give beneath her weight pressing down on them.

Heat burned across my palm, and a flash of bright light struck my eyes, nearly blinding. I blinked away the floating objects, and when I turned back to Elowen, time leapt into motion again.

A blackness crawled from my knuckles to the tips of my fingers wrapped tight at her throat. Elowen’s spine snapped straight, her head tipped back, and the pressure weighing down on me lessened. Tiny black veins pulsed beneath her pale white skin, thickening and thickening. The veins stretched and reached across her face, swallowing the alabaster white, until, at last, she crumbled to black dust that fell upon me.

Coughing, I kicked myself backward until my spine hit something hard, and I let out a scream, twisting to see a tree trunk at my back. Snapping my attention back to Elowen showed nothing but her threadbare clothes lying in a pile over scattered black dust that’d blown across the snow.

I looked down to the tips of my fingers, which remained black as onyx, and when I turned my palm up, the image I’d seen carved in the tree glowed on my right hand. A new glyph. Up close, I could see it was two vertically inverted eyes, but the ridge of each eye actually made up a scythe. Two inverted scythes.

Another glance at Elowen.

Death.

A deep growl had me glancing up again to see two pale-skinned creatures skulking toward me through the trees. I pushed to my feet and ran back toward the archway.

The trailing growls told me they chased after me, but I didn’t stop, nor turn, to see how closely. Through the snow, I booked it back toward the cottage, a suffocating fear robbing me of air as I wheezed and coughed. My boot struck a log, and I tumbled forward, the ground smashing into my chest. A quick glance showed the creatures bounding after me on all fours, and I jumped to my feet, dashing forward once more.

The archway stood just ahead of me. The air burned in my lungs, and my muscles shook as I sprinted past it to the open field, toward the cottage in the distance. The faster I raced toward it, the closer the growls seemed to chase after me.

A tearless sob tugged at my throat, but I clamped my lips to keep it in check. Zevander needed me to return. He needed me. I refused to die. I refused to leave him vulnerable and alone.

I will not die in this wretched world .

My lungs pounded at my chest for a sip of oxygen by the time I reached the porch. Weak with exhaustion, I slammed through the front door of the cottage and closed it behind me, switching the lock into place. With my back against the door, I panted, waiting for those creatures to slam through after me. Growls and snarls bled through the door. A hard thud jerked me forward. Another clanked the metal locks.

“Stop!” I screamed as they rammed into the barrier a third time.

Their growls heightened, and I slapped my hands to my ears, screwing my eyes shut. “Go away, go away, go away!”

A cold gust swirled around me, and for the briefest moment, I wondered if they’d gotten through somehow.

The beating against the door stopped, and I opened my eyes to an eerie stillness that settled through the room.

Nothing but the quiet grunts from the bedroom that told me Zevander still lay there.

Stepping cautiously over the floorboards, I padded toward the window beside the door and peered out. My heart pounded in my throat. Dozens of the creatures paced in the yard, snarling and snapping their teeth, but none of them approached the door. As if they couldn’t.

As if my presence stirred them into a frenzy, one of them rushed toward the porch. An invisible force threw it backward across the yard.

“A ward,” I whispered. It was then I remembered the symbols carved into the wood on the door.

Backing away from the window, I looked around in search of a rag and found one on a countertop. I tore it into small strips, wrapping each small section around my fingers, all the way to their blackened tips, until they were completely covered. My whole body trembled as I limped my way to the bedroom, and after sliding off the boots, I crawled into bed next to Zevander. Even unconscious, he calmed me, his massive body like an iron shield that I hid behind while the monsters paced outside the window.

If only he’d wake.

While his body continued to tremble, I buried my face in his damp skin that’d begun to heat again. “Please wake up,” I whispered. “Please don’t leave me here alone.”