Page 27 of Vasmora

“No, Sir. Captain. Sir.”

“Get him out. Bathe him and place him in a holding cell.”

“Yessir.”

“And the next time you question my command, you’ll take his place.”

Perhaps there was a chance for escape, after all.

CHAPTER EIGHT

ZEVANDER

Zevander jolted awake on a gasp, eyelids flipping open to darkness. He kicked himself backward, and a hard surface smacked into the back of his head, knocking a grunt out of him. Glancing around showed no sign of Cadavros, only the long, dark shadows over morose gray walls, and silvery bands of moonlight filtering in through the lancet windows behind him.

His bedroom?

He raised his arm to rub the ache at the back of his skull, noticing a white bandage wrapped around his naked forearm.

“I had to set it.” The raspy voice poured through the darkness, and had Zevander not recognized it, he’d have surely sent a blast of sablefyre that way. “Seems to be healing well.”

Across from him, Branimir sat against the wall, one knee bent up, the other leg outstretched. What little light shone through the room failed to reach his face.

Frowning, Zevander scoured his thoughts for the last thing he remembered.

Raivox carrying him from the chasm. Flying upward above the trees. Costelwick.

“Maevyth?” His muscles tensed. “Where’s Maevyth?”

“I’ve not seen her.” A trace of concern tightened his voice.

Perhaps she and Kazhimyr simply hadn't arrived yet. Raivox would've shortened his own journey home by half. Zevander sat forward, groaning as a stabbing pain struck his ribs.

“It’s only been a week.”

“A week since when?”

“Since that oversized bird dumped you onto Eidolon’s grounds.”

Zevander froze. A week? He craned his neck, peering out the window beside him for a glimpse of Raivox.

“He flew off rather quickly.” Branimir shifted, his limbs creaking like old wood.

“You’ve not seen, nor heard, from Kazhimyr, either?”

“You’re the first I’ve seen in weeks, aside from Vendryck and Magdah.”

Didn’t surprise Zevander that the loyal butler and cook had remained at Eidolon during its abandonment.

“Oh, and the four Imperial Guardsmen who were kind enough to visit. Not to worry. I was cordial enough to invite them in for supper.” A hint of amusement carried on Branimir's words, and Zevander might’ve grimaced, had his mind not been reeling back through the final moments just before he'd sent Kazhimyr and Maevyth through the Umbravale.

He'd only ordered Kazhimyr to get to the other side. Hadn't said a word about where to take her, though he hadn’t imagined falling into the chasm, either. It seemed only logical that Kazhimyr would take her to Calyxar, where Dolion had taken his sister for safety.

Unless they'd gotten captured.

As if sensing his contemplation, Branimir chimed in. "I suspect if they'd been captured by the guard, we'd have had more visitors. Surely, they'd come after you next. Particularly with four of their own missing."

True. If King Sagaerin's men hadn't come for him in the last week, they likely hadn't stumbled upon Kazhimyr and Maevyth, either. Same with the magehood, who'd have surely hunted Dolion for the remaining stones.