Page 45 of Eldritch (The Eating Woods #2)

CHAPTER THIRTY

KAZHIMYR

Present …

H aving secured two more horses, Kazhimyr and Ravezio trailed behind Dravien, as he led them along the snow-laden path toward the city at the foot of the mountains.

Four days, they’d traveled with him, sleeping in coach houses and camps along the way, and Kazhimyr hadn’t come to trust the strange Elvyniran any more than before.

Not that he’d expected to trust him much after the bastard had slit the necks on their horses.

He’d chalked it up to unsavory coincraft, but Kazhimyr’s suspicions only heightened with the way the stranger kept along, as if he knew the land well—too well for one who claimed he’d never been as far north as Susurria and was only passing through.

Yet, somehow, he seemed to know where to avoid the random sinkholes and where to set up camps for the night.

Even more frustrating was the fact that Kazhimyr couldn’t share his reservations with Ravezio, given their traveling companion seemed to have exceptional hearing.

No, Kazhimyr was certain the man was quite familiar with the stretch they traveled, which led him to question the fork-tongued snake’s motives.

Ahead of them stood the sprawling city of Wyntertide, where they’d hoped to secure passage to Calyxar, but Kazhimyr couldn’t shake the thought that they were being led toward something more nefarious.

He’d heard of wanderers getting swept up by raptors, as they were known throughout the neighboring villages and towns, who befriended them, promising passage, or work.

Instead, the raptors would lure them to where a pack of their friends awaited to drain the blood of their victims, for use in dark rituals.

Despite Kazhimyr knowing that if Dravien’s plans were to kill them, he’d certainly had plenty of opportunity during their travels, he’d always made a point never to ignore his instincts. “When we arrive, Ravezio and I have some dealings that must be settled,” he lied.

“Very well,” Dravien said over his shoulder. “We can convene in the morning.”

“Seems you travel this path frequently.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You appear to know the landscape well.”

“I told you, I happen to be good at navigation. I can sense changes and danger.”

He had told them that, and still, Kazhimyr’s instincts refused to settle. “How fortunate we are to have found you, then.”

“I agree.”

“Perhaps you might suggest a place to stay while we’re there.” In Kazhimyr’s periphery, Ravezio glanced at him, but didn’t bother to mention aloud that they were quite familiar with Wintergrave, the sprawling castle owned by Zevander’s Aunt Morwenna. It was there they planned to stay for the night.

“There’s a hostelrie right next to an alchemist shop in town. Stayed there when I first arrived.” He shrugged and glanced over his shoulder again. “But if you’re aware of better accommodations, please don’t hesitate to share.”

“The hostelrie will do.”

“Excellent.”

W yntertide, the oldest Vespyri city, had to be the most beautiful in all of Aethyria.

Situated closest to the eastern moon, the largest of the two, the city glowed in an ethereal shimmer that bathed the ancient buildings.

As much as Kazhimyr longed to take in the open fields of icy blue snow lilies, the stretches of stone buildings adorned with creeping vines, and the icy river that wound through the small shops, he was far too preoccupied to truly admire it all.

Dravien brought his horse to a halt just before the main stretch and twisted around in his saddle. “This is where we’ll part ways for the evening. Perhaps I’ll find you later at the hostelrie.”

“Perhaps,” Kazhimyr said and with a nod, the Elvyniran kept on down the cobblestone road.

When he was certain Dravien was out of earshot, he turned to Ravezio. “My senses are telling me we should find another way.”

“You don’t trust him.”

“Do you?”

“Not as far as I can toss him.”

“Good. It’s settled, then. We’ll find a way to Calyxar on our own.” Kazhimyr gave a light kick to the horse’s flank and set off through town in the direction of Wintergrave.

As they rounded a stretch of small shops that circled the fountain square, Kazhimyr eyed a tall, massively built figure with a familiar face snaking through the crowd.

Brisk steps sent the dark hood he wore lifting back just enough to catch red hair trimmed to his skull and unmistakable violet eyes.

“Torryn?” Ravezio said behind him.

Kazhimyr studied his quick strides, before noticing three cloaked men who seemed to be following the Letalisz toward an alley between buildings. “We’ll round the square to the back and pick him up there.”

Kazhimyr turned his horse, retraced his steps to the last alley they’d passed, and galloped down the narrow stretch toward the other side, with Ravezio chasing after him.

When they reached the end of the alley where Torryn had been heading, they found their fellow assassin trapped at the other end, surrounded by the cloaked figures, each of them brandishing a sword.

“Hand it over,” he heard one of them demand before leaping toward Torryn.

While the brute could’ve probably taken on all three, Kazhimyr opted to hurry it along by lowering his palm toward the ground.

A blast of mist rushed toward the men, who quickly lost their footing as they jerked and slid across the ice he’d just laid down.

Torryn’s boots shot out from under him, and he tumbled backward on his ass, the sound of his groan echoing down the alleyway. The mist curled around him like a rope banded across his midsection, and Kazhimyr gave a hard yank that sent his bulky form skating over the surface toward them.

Once he was close enough, Kazhimyr tugged back the mist, and Torryn spun around on the ice to face them.

“Should’ve known it was you two cunts.”

Kazhimyr laughed at that. “Pardon the interruption. Would you like me to send you back to finish?” He nodded toward the other cloaked men, who scrambled on hands and knees toward them.

“Not particularly,” Torryn said, rising to his feet.

His hands flailed as he lost his balance, but Ravezio reached out just before he tumbled backward again, gripping his arm.

Torryn mounted the horse behind Ravezio, and the three of them made haste to the path outside of the town square, and up through a wooded hillside.

“’The hell are you two doing here, anyway? ”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Finally out of ear shot, Kazhimyr spoke freely. “Are you with Dolion?”

“Yeah. Rykaia, Allura, they’re all there.”

The very mention of Allura’s name stirred Kazhimyr’s urgency to see her again. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been so intrigued by a woman. “Who were the men following you?”

“Scholars from the university. A secret society, of sorts.”

“How in seven hells did you incite the violence of scholars?”

“Don’t let their title fool you. Those bastards are ruthless. They guard the ancient books.”

“And so…why were they chasing you?”

From inside his cloak, Torryn tugged out a brown, leather-bound book that looked like it’d been through war, as worn and weathered as it was.

Kazhimyr tilted his head just enough to read the title of it. Blood Lineage Codex . “Are you attempting to track down a bloodline?”

“Dolion asked me to fetch it.”

“Why are the four of you still here?” Kazhimyr’s gaze swept over the trees, the habit ingrained in him, as he searched for any disturbances—a startled bird, or animal, shadows where they shouldn’t be, a change of scent.

“We were due to leave Wyntertide two days ago. Sometime in the evening before we were set to head out, Dolion started acting strange. Was real quiet at supper. For a man who loves a good tankard of ale, he didn’t touch it that night.

Instead, he retired early. Then, about the witching hour, he woke up shaking uncontrollably. Eyes rolled back in his head.”

The path ahead split, and Torryn pointed toward a gravelly stretch on the right.

The surrounding trees darkened, as the three entered the thickest stretch of forest, and Torryn kept on with his story.

“Had no idea, since we were all asleep, until the damn Golvyn ran screaming through the castle, making a clamor. Couldn’t get Dolion out of that state for the whole night.

He just laid there, shaking. Only the whites of his eyes showing.

Wasn’t until the next night he woke up and started speaking frantically, as if he was possessed by something.

” Torryn let out a troubled sigh. “Started drawing all these symbols on the wall, rambling. Hours and hours of rambling and drawing. He locked himself in that room, and hasn’t been out since, until this morning when he asked me to fetch that damn book for him. ”

That damn book had been in Wyntertide for millennia. It had every bloodline ever recorded.

“So, you stole an ancient book from the secure vault at the university?”

“Had to take a few down, but yeah.”

Kazhimyr snorted and shook his head. “The pride I feel is immeasurable.”

“Yeah, well, you’re in charge of returning it.”

The trees parted for the old castle Kazhimyr had read about in history lessons.

The Rydainns were nobles, loyal to the king of Vespyria centuries ago, with a number of vassals at their beck and call, but their highblood lineage had thinned over the years.

Morwenna and her brother, Severin, were the only two of Lady Rydainn’s siblings left.

Kazhimyr had met her once, when she’d passed through Eidolon on her way to Costelwick.

An odd woman, but she’d always been welcoming and kind.

Past the gates, the horses trotted up to the entrance of the castle. The three dismounted, and Kazhimyr and Ravezio followed Torryn inside the manor.