Page 77 of King Elijah (The Zemiran Chronicles 2)

Oh, Gods, I don’t have time for this, Elijah thought as his hand came up, sucking the air briefly from the man, causing him to stumble back. The man had his back pressed against his home and froze, his eyes glistening into a trance.

Elijah pulled off his gloves and approached the terrified man, pressing his hand firmly to his chest. He withdrew his magic.

“I will not hurt you if you do as I ask,” Elijah said.

“Sorcerer!” the man choked out.

“Oh,” Elijah said softly. “I am so much more than that.”

The man attempted to break away, but it was of no use. The magic had gripped so tightly to his mind that his body no longer obeyed. Elijah controlled every word and movement until he released him.

“I’ll be taking your horse, a few blankets, and more fuel for my lantern,” Elijah ordered. “Go, now. Give me what I need.”

Elijah worked hard to distance himself from his father’s legacy. It was too easy to fall prey to forgetting the value of others. However, it was sometimes helpful to tap into the monster so his guilt didn’t suffocate him. Right then, he had to be the villain most believed he was.

“Yes, sir,” the man said, turning into his home.

Elijah put his gloves back on and finished covering the horse with the blanket, securing it in place with a few straps around its chest. He then pulled himself onto the horse, gripping the reins back, and trotted to the front of the man’s house.

After a few moments, the man came out, handing Elijah a blanket, a few bread rolls, and a canister of water.

“I’m sorry, I have little fuel. Only enough for the winter.”

Elijah bit his bottom lip, and before he could demand the man turn it over, the door opened. A woman emerged with a tight braid over her shoulder, carrying a tiny, wailing baby in her arms.

A tired, barely noticeable smile touched her lips, but went flat when she noticed the horse that he sat on was theirs.

“Xander, what the ’ell is goin’ on out ’ere?” she said in a thick accent. “Who are you? That’s our horse, Xander!”

The man placed his hand over his wife’s shoulder to pull her back.

“Get back inside, Anna,” he said.

The little voice Elijah often ignored pressed at the back of his mind. King or not, righteous mission or not, those people were innocent, and he knew it. What he was doing was wrong.

Elijah gritted his teeth. He couldn’t take the last bit of fuel that the man had to keep his wife and child warm. He’d have to make do with what he had.

“Shit,” Elijah uttered quietly before pulling an apologetic face. “Miss, listen to your husband and go back inside,” Elijah said, feeling the last of the magic he had fading off the man. Xander came to and leapt forward to stop Elijah when he realized what was happening. Elijah kicked his heels against the horse, taking off down the road, hearing the cries from the couple behind him fade into nothing.

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