Page 21 of Eldritch (The Eating Woods #2)
CHAPTER TWELVE
KAZHIMYR
U nder the cover of night, Kazhimyr’s horse galloped toward Castle Eidolon, with Ravezio following only a short distance behind and spurring his own mount faster.
In the melee of the uprising, coupled with the prince having gone missing, sneaking out of the castle had been a much easier feat than Kazhimyr had expected.
With soldiers running amok, fires having to be tamed, and the king’s mages nowhere to be found, he and Ravezio had made their way to the stables, where they’d secured two horses and practically waltzed right past the guards without incident.
As he rode, his eyes remained fixated on obscure figures in the distance, entering the dark gorge. The occasional flicker of gold and silver steel highlighted them as Solassion and Nyxterosi soldiers, ones who likely hadn’t gotten word that the prince had been kidnapped.
Possibly the half-dozen Captain Zivant had sent after Dolion.
They hadn’t gotten much of a head start if Kazhimyr had nearly gained on them already. It seemed they hadn’t caught sight of them yet, either, otherwise they’d have likely put up an attack.
Kazhimyr flexed his hand and held it out as steadily as he could while atop the erratic bounce of the horse beneath him.
Praying that he wasn’t too far outside of his magic’s reach, he shot a blast of icy mist over the bog’s surface.
It was only when he heard the echo of their curses carry through the gorge that he knew his aim had been true.
And was further confirmed when the soldiers no longer advanced through the bog, due to the icy water having frozen around their horses’ legs.
Kazhimyr gave a kick to his mount’s flank and gripped the reins, as he and Ravezio shot across the open field toward them. He could make out all six riders, hiding behind their horses, which let out a high-pitched neighs and thrashed in a failed effort to get loose from the ice.
An arrow whistled past Kazhimyr’s ear, and he ducked low toward his horse’s neck. “Seems they’ve spotted us!” he shouted back toward Ravezio.
“Bastards couldn’t guide a proper shaft, if their lives depended on it!” Ravezio yelled back, the comment bringing a smile to Kazhimyr’s face.
“All that practice for nothing,” Kazhimyr called.
A bolt of lightning struck a tree as they passed it, splintering the wood, and the horses reared up, forcing Kazhimyr to grip the reins tighter as he guided the horse back on its path.
He let out a growl, spurring the beast faster.
More arrows rained down, and Kazhimyr twisted on his saddle, just as a sharp point grazed past his arm.
One of the soldiers nocked the next arrow and drew back, but before he released it, Kazhimyr sent another blast of white mist. The soldier’s limbs fell away from his torso, the arrow falling to the ground, while every cell in his body lysed and split open.
The air vibrated on a strange blast of heat, and Kazhimyr gave a sharp pull of the reins, hauling the horse to the side, just before a bolt of lightning struck the ground ahead of him.
He slowed the beast enough to hop off and held up his palm, summoning three sharp-bladed snow crystals.
Eyes on his target, the one whose arrow had grazed his shoulder, he thrust his hand forward, sending all three crystals spinning through the air between them.
Before the soldier could so much as turn away, one of the crystals lodged in his forehead.
His body jolted, his head thrown slightly back, blood trickling down his nose, and he fell to his knees.
Another crystal lopped off his ear as it sliced past him.
The third struck his throat. The soldier fell face first to the ground, the surrounding pool of blood expanding further.
Ravezio, also having dismounted his horse, darted ahead, his hardened scales deflecting the arrows that bounced off him. Kazhimyr started after him, quickening his pace to catch up.
The other four soldiers dashed toward the dark mountains on either side, slipping over the surface of the ice that’d begun to thaw.
Kazhimyr unsheathed one of his daggers and paused only briefly to hurl it across the distance.
The blade struck his mark in the right arm, just below the pauldron, and the soldier let out a yelp, sliding to the ice.
The other three soldiers didn’t so much as spare a glance for their fallen, keeping on up the steep mountainside.
Ravezio caught up to the fallen soldier first and turned him over onto his back.
Within seconds, their eyes locked, and the soldier came under the Letalisz’s spell.
The Nyxterosi, clad in silver armor, slowly hardened to stone, mottled gray crawling from his boots to his face where a look of sheer agony remained carved into his expression.
“Fucking hell,” Ravezio said. “Should’ve pulled the knife out first.” He gave the hilt a small tug, but it wouldn’t budge from the soldier’s stony flesh.
Kazhimyr snorted and kept on after the other three, panting from his injuries inflicted by Captain Zivant during his abuses.
One of the soldiers turned, hand raised, power crackling through the air.
Feeling the familiar heat, a hum across his cold skin that warned of a strike, Kazhimyr leapt to the side, flattening himself against the wall as the bolt of lightning struck where he’d stood only seconds before.
The ground vibrated, and rocks tumbled down the edge of the mountain, smacking into the ice.
Kazhimyr threw out his hand, calling upon the more arcane powers he’d been trained to use, and drew the lightning’s energy to his palm.
Molten heat seared his blood, and he let out a grunt as it mingled with his own magic.
He stepped back onto the path and thrust his hand forward, sending a bolt of ice flying toward the soldier.
The Solassion’s golden armor scarcely slowed the sharp bolt that pierced his chest, sending him hurling backward to where it pinned him into the rock. Small bits of rock and dust crumbled around the trapped soldier.
Ravezio zipped past him, up the mountain toward the last two soldiers, and Kazhimyr casually strode up to the one dangling from the spike of ice lodged in his chest. Blood dribbled down his enemy’s chin, and he coughed, sending more rivulets pouring from the corners of his mouth.
Kazhimyr stared up at him, head tipped. In spite of all the blood smeared across the soldier’s face, he recognized him, and fragmented memories scattered through his thoughts.
The cold surface of a cement block pressed into his spine. Hands bound above his head. The sour flavor of leather across his tongue, and drool leaking from the corner of his mouth with the bit clutched between his teeth. The orange glow of a firebrand. His heart beating wildly in his chest.
“Where is she?” the soldier standing over him demanded. “Where is the woman who hired you!”
“I don’t know,” he mumbled past the bit. “I only know her first name. I swear it.”
The crackle of sizzling flesh.
Screams. His own screams, beating through his chest in a desperate cry of pain.
“Do you remember me?” Kazhimyr tipped his head lower in an effort to catch the guard’s attention. “Do you remember who I am?”
The guard shook his head, wheezing a breath.
“Of course you don’t. I was probably one of many boys you punished.” Kazhimyr ran his finger over the thicker end of the icicle speared through what he estimated to be the soldier’s heart. “I was powerless back then.”
Breath sawed in and out of the man.
“I could offer you a merciful death,” Kazhimyr said coldly. “One cold blast, and you’d easily split like a ruptured blister. Wouldn’t even feel it. Or I can leave you to suffer for however long it takes for you to die.”
“P-P-Pl-Please,” he rasped between shallow breaths. “Make it…quick!”
Kazhimyr drew in a deep breath and sighed.
“No.” He chuckled and, sensing the approach of something from behind, turned to see two milky white eyes staring back at him just a few yards away.
Squatty build. Flat nose. Boggyr. “Balls of Castero…look what the wind blew in. He looks hungry. Probably hasn’t eaten a decent meal in a while. ”
The soldier grunted and coughed, spewing blood onto Kazhimyr’s leathers.
“Where is Prince Dorjan?”
“I don’t…know.”
“I don’t believe that.” A roar echoed through the bog, and Kazhimyr turned to see the Boggyr stalking toward them on all fours.
“Pl-ease!” The soldier’s voice cracked. “Kill…me!”
“Where is Prince Dorjan?”
“I’m…telling…the…tru—!” His words were cut short by a cough that sent a glob of blood spilling down his chin.
“Are you?” Kazhimyr glanced over his shoulder at the Boggyr that drew in closer.
“I…do not…know!”
“That’s a shame. I imagine Boggyrs like to start with the exposed flesh, and he’ll just sort of squeeze his way into the armor, eating you from the inside.”
The soldier let out a whimper. “I swear…no one…told me…about the prince.”
“Then, I’m wasting my time entirely.” Without another word, Kazhimyr strode up the path after Ravezio.
“No…wait! Please!”
Screams echoed through the gorge behind him.
K azhimyr pushed through the heavy doors, which groaned as they opened in on Eidolon’s dark foyer.
A stagnant chill lingered in the air, the thud of his boots bouncing off the cold stones when he entered.
While the castle had never been warm and inviting, at least the ordinarily lit candles and chandeliers had always given it some life.
Everywhere he looked held nothing but shadows and an eerie silence.
The light from outside illuminated lanterns left out on a console table, and Kazhimyr strode toward them. Using matches contained inside a small glass vase, he lit them, their soft flicker casting more shadows on the wall.