Page 186 of Anathema

With quick strides, Zevander pushed through bodies, holding Maevyth in his arms as he made his way to them. “Take the corridor to the west tower and cleave yourselves back to Eidolon.” Over the din of screams behind them, his voice hardly carried. He carefully set Maevyth to her feet.

“What about you!” Rykaia shouted back.

“I have to find Dorjan. Stay with Torryn. Now, go!”

The three of them took off down the corridor as he instructed, Maevyth looking back at him as Rykaia dragged her along.

Zevander exhaled an exasperated sigh as he turned toward the unruly crowd. “Fuck.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

MAEVYTH

Rykaia pulled me along, as I watched Zevander disappear into the melee. A voice inside my head told me to stay with him. That I was safest with him. Instead, I scurried after Rykaia and Torryn as they searched for a quiet place to cleave, away from anyone who might try to follow after us.

Rykaia darted toward a shadowy corner, and the moment she put her finger to the stone, the sound of approaching footsteps alerted us that someone was coming from the other direction. Four figures in gold armor stalked toward us–Solassion guards.

“Go,” Torryn said, stepping around her in the direction of the footsteps. “I’ll deal with them.” Striding toward them, he removed his gloves, tossed them aside, and yanked away his cloak for a short, but vicious looking, cutlass strapped to his back. It’d managed to stay concealed beneath his cloak, somehow, and it was as he reached for the hilt that it lengthened to its full size toward his hand.

Hand trembling, Rykaia drew a shimmering line down the wall and stepped through.

As I lifted my leg to follow after her, something gripped my arm. Before I had the chance to identify what had clutched me, a hand banded across my mouth and yanked me backward, away from it. I sank my teeth into my captor’s flesh, and they growled, releasing me. Once free, I jolted for that glowing seam with a single-minded determination to get back to Eidolon.

A weakness claimed my legs, like running through thick muck, and I fell to my knees just short of the cleave, watching the glow fade. My pulse raced as the terrifying sensation climbed up my thighs to my stomach. Reaching out for the slowly sealing exit, I opened my mouth for a scream that died to a choke.

The distant sound of Rykaia calling out to me faded beneath a piercing static in my ears. My hands fell at my side, my body shutting down on me without will.

The stone floor crashed into my cheekbone, and a shock of pain exploded across my jaw. I let out a grunt as I watched a black boot step into my view, the purple hem of a robe hovering just above it. The figure reached down and took hold of the whistle at my neck. In one rough yank, he tore it away.

Blackness swallowed my vision.

The scent of burning herbs invaded my nose and I opened my eyes to the lambent glow of candles. Hundreds of candles that illuminated a domed, white ceiling above me. The hum of quiet chanting dragged my attention to the right, where robed figures, in black and gold masks, stood in rows. At pressure across my wrists, I looked down to see my arms shackled in copper, the chain attached to a cement slab beneath me. I tugged at it in a frenzy of confusion, and when I kicked my feet, they too failed to move freely.

A cold, branching panic crawled over my chest, squeezing my lungs, allowing only a whimper to escape me.

I rolled my head to the left and found a gold brazier, from where a rich, black flame writhed and quivered in a hypnotic dance. Starved and restless for kindling, it seemed to reach out for anything to consume.

Beside the brazier stood another figure, wearing the telling purple and black robes of a mage, his face concealed by a black mask.

He held out his hands to either side of him. “Behold the last daughter of the Corvikae! A contradiction to all we represent.” He held up one palm. “The father of alchemy. Of life, magic and creation.” He raised his other hand. “And the daughter of death and decay. Her blood, when turned to stone, will bring forth the truest alchemical transformation. Through her death, we shall live. By her essence, we shall fortify the Umbravale to protect against our enemies. To drive out disease and famine, as is prophesied by the divine Goddess of Foresight. Together, with the six stones we’ve yet to reclaim, we will not fall prey to the Black Pestilence.”

“Let me go! Please! I’m not what you think I am!” I wriggled and squirmed in the cuffs. “Please! I’m begging you! Don’t do this!”

He lifted the thurible from his side, wafting the scent of dried herbs I’d smelled earlier, and dangled it over me in circles to form puffs of white smoke. “Magekae, lord of alchemy and knowledge, we call upon your wisdom and skill to tame the sablefyre, the force you created, so that we might carry forth your incorporeal spirit.” Lowering the thurible, he tilted his head back. “Egrezeder deosz! Da’haj’mihirit teviras!”

A feminine voice that wasn’t my own spoke inside my head. Come forth, God of Alchemy! Give me your strength!

Eyes on the black flame, I tugged at my binds, desperate to get loose, and glanced around for any familiar faces. Only a sea of emotionless masks stared back at me. A number of them wore purple cloaks like that of the mage standing over me.

From the brazier, the mage lit a small bundle of kindling, which he placed in a porcelain crucible. As he held it over my body, I stared up at the black onyx ring on his finger. The Magelord I’d met earlier. “She will burn in sablefyre. And her blood shall turn to stone. And the stone shall grant us immunity from the blight!”

“Covis honet et obedisz, petimirsj ze noz eripeh,” the crowd chanted, their voices harsh and staccato, terrifying.

With honor and obedience, we ask that you deliver us, the voice in my mind translated.

“No, please! Don’t do this!” My muscles shook with the futile effort of trying to free myself from the chains.

Wordlessly, he passed his hand through the flame, wincing as he scooped the fire into his palm. Without warning, he slapped his hand over my mouth, forcing the fire down my throat.

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