Page 74 of Anathema

“What are you doing?” I whispered. As much as I didn’t want anything to do with him, I also didn’t want to be abandoned by him, either.

“Stay quiet.” His voice held a strange, level tone that didn’t match the frantic thrumming of my heart just then.

“How can you be so calm right now?”

“I’m not the one he wants to eat.”

The hood of the cloak he wore covered his face, making him appear more shadow than a man, but I caught a flicker of black and metal at his mouth, as though covered by a mask. Before I could examine him too thoroughly, the beast roared again. I snapped my attention that way and nearly choked on the panic shooting up into my throat, as it lowered its maw and charged toward us.

The horse didn’t rear up. Didn’t whinny, or shift on its feet. It remained still, as if unmoved by the creature. I turned to find my captor had disappeared. Vanished, as if into thin air.

“What? Where’d … oh … dammit!” I kicked the horse’s flank, hoping to stir it into motion, but the unflappable creature didn’t move. “Move! Damnable beast! Gallop on!” Another kick, and the horse let out a deep, guttural growl.

A growl?

I’d never heard a horse growl in my life.

The toady beast splashed toward us, and my muscles locked up. I let out a scream as it leapt into the air for me.

A black object speared it mid-flight, plowing down through its head and out of its chest so fast, the beast still hovered in the air. The infernal toad cantered forward, sliding toward the water to reveal a shiny black blade that had impaled it, before it splashed into the bog beside the horse.

From a black curling smoke, my captor appeared, his gloved hand gripping the hilt of said sword.

Before I could process what had just happened, the horse bent forward and tore away a bite of the dead creature’s flesh, chewing on it like it’d just innocently stuffed its head into a bucket of carrots.

Mouth hanging open, I silently sat, certain I must’ve been dreaming. Or worse.

Perhaps I’d died back in those woods. Maybe Moros had captured me, and this was some sort of strange purgatory.

My captor wiped his sword onto a white kerchief, leaving a green ooze across the fabric. “Well, you’re free to go, if you’d like.”

I was about to tell him he was free to go to hell, but he lifted his head, and I caught sight of his face for the first time. Moonlight struck him just enough that I could make out the features otherwise hidden by the hood of his cloak. A black mask with metallic embellishments covered the lower half of his face, but even with his disguise, I recognized him. I’d seen those unusual eyes before, in what had seemed like a dream. The burnt orange and bright gold that surrounded his pupil, like an explosion of light, nearly glowing from the depths of his hood.

“You,” I whispered. “You …. I’ve seen you. You were in my room.”

He didn’t say anything as he shoved his sword into some unseen sheath at his back.

“I thought I’d imagined you, but … it’s you! Why?”

Still not answering, he gathered the reins, and it was as he stood alongside the horse that I took in the size of him. Close to seven feet tall, by my estimates.

“I’ll give you one of two choices. Get off this horse and find your own way back to the woods. Or stay quiet and don’t ask another question.”

“Can I at least ask your name? So that I’m not mentally calling you angry eyes?”

A sound of disapproval followed. “Zevander.”

“Zevander,” I echoed. “I’m Maevyth.”

“I didn’t ask.” He waited a moment longer, and when I didn’t move, he turned away and gave a slight tug of the reins, guiding the horse forward, on through the bog.

“Idon’t suppose you drink water here?” I dared to ask, after we’d gotten through that awful bog and he stopped to dry off his boots on a cushy, mushroomy object, just off the stone path.

He let out a huff and reached into a satchel behind me, pulling out the most elaborate-looking canteen I’d ever seen. What looked like moon phases, etched into the metal, loomed over the silhouette of a castle. Its back bore an inscription: May you never go thirsty. Love, Rykaia.

I didn’t bother to ask who that was, figuring he wouldn’t have told me, anyway. A lover, I guessed. Instead, I popped the cap open. Tipping it back sent a rush of cool fluids down my throat, practically sizzling as I gulped them back. Sweet mercy, had I ever tasted water so delicious? Unlike the well water back at the cottage, which’d often had an eggy sulfur smell, this was clean and crystal-like. Ice cold, as if it’d sat out in the winter snow.

Once satisfied, I wiped my face with the back of my wrist and returned the canteen to him. He didn’t bother to take a drink before tucking it back into the satchel. Pity. I’d hoped he’d remove that terrifying mask at some point, so I could catch a glimpse of more than just his eyes.

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