Page 184 of Anathema

The two mages strode back toward the ballroom, and once he’d determined they weren’t coming back, Zevander lifted the fog.

“You were in Mortasia. A scribe.”

The mage’s gaze flicked to Maevyth and back, but he didn’t bother to answer.

“I can do this the easy way, or the hard way.” Lifting his palm, he summoned a scorpion and let it crawl onto the mage’s robe.

The man trembled, his eyes tracking the scorpion as it wandered over his robe to his tunic. When it scampered down his neckline, he let out a whimper.

Zevander smashed his hand over the mage’s mouth, muffling a scream as the scorpion burrowed itself into his flesh. “Now, as I was saying. You were in Mortasia. A scribe.”

He gave a frantic nod, and Zevander released his mouth. “It burns, please. It burns,” he whispered on a shaky breath.

“Yes. It will burn an awful lot, if you fail to answer my questions. Why were you in Mortasia?”

His lower lip quivered to a pout, clearly not wanting to divulge the information. “The mages. They sent me there.”

“Why?”

Lips pressed together, he shook his head. At what must’ve been an excruciating pinch from the scorpion, he clenched his teeth, tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. “A vein. The Mortasians found a vein. I was sent to confirm and report back.”

“And Cadavros? He lives?”

His nostrils flared with his heavy breathing. “You’re asking me very confidential information. I don’t even know who you are.”

“My name is irrelevant. Answer the question.”

“Yes. Cadavros lives. And he knows of the vein.”

“The Magestroli lied about his death. Why?”

“I can’t answer that.” He whimpered, and at another pinch of the scorpion, he let out a scream that Zevander muffled with his hand.

“I have no reservations about gutting you open right here.”

The mage’s cries died down to sniffles. “The Magestroli were simply following orders.”

“From whom?”

“Akmyrios.”

“Was he aware of the vein when they banished Cadavros?”

“No. The scouts who were sent to Mortasia reported no vein. It’s been dead for millennia. Buried beneath the Lyverian mountains.” His body trembled, and Zevander glanced down to see the mage’s hand shaking wildly at his side. “A man by the name of Moros discovered it.”

The mention of his name stirred a rumble of tension, as Zevander recalled Maevyth’s betrothal to the man. “And what is the state of Mortasia now?”

“I don’t know. I left soon after finding out about the vein. There were … rumors of … mutations.” His face ashened, a sweat breaking over his brow. “Horribly deformed creatures.”

“Were you there for the banishing of a young girl? Aleysia?”

His gaze shifted toward Maevyth, who still wore her mask. “Yes.”

“And did you see what happened to her after The Banishing?”

“I know … she emerged with Moros.” His body jerked, and he let out a grunt. “I don’t know if she is alive.”

“But you saw her!” Maevyth lurched toward him, and Zevander let out a groan.

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