Page 136 of Vasmora

Tucking his arms behind his back, Lothare stepped closer, his feet never touching the ground. “Takes a moment to balance yourself.”

“You plan to float through the tunnel?”

“Yes. I’ve traversed successfully this way.” Lothare waved his hand again, and the ground rushed toward Zevander’s boots with a hard thud. “Now, I suggest we all get some rest. We’ve got an ocean to cross.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

KAZHIMYR

The brown, wool cloak Kazhimyr had stolen scratched at his face and stank of woodsmoke and animal musk. However, the garment, commonly worn by the poorest in Luximos, drew no attention from those he passed, as he made his way through the market square. Beside him, Prince Dorjan hobbled along, also cloaked in wool, his arm wrapped around Kazhimyr’s neck, feet dragging with every weakened step. Behind them, Dravien trailed a few steps after, the Elvyniran clearly having no intentions of abandoning him any time soon.

Rotted fruit and shit, human and animal, littered the streets, the stench curling the hairs in Kazhimyr’s nose. Luximos gleamed from a distance, but the heart of it was nothing more than a slum.

An eerie normalcy blanketed the sprawling city, with vendors squabbling and calling after the passersby who went about seemingly unaware that the castle happened to be overrun by plague. A sight that made Kazhimyr want to laugh, given what he’d seen, what he knew was coming.

How long would it be before their beloved city was covered in webs, the people trapped in cocoons?

A merchant they passed lifted one of the root vegetables from his cart. Brown and rotted, it seemed to whiten as he twisted it around, and cursing, he tossed it back onto the cart.

Screams rose above the din, and Kazhimyr paused his steps, turning to find a woman stumbling through the market, carrying a bundle held to her chest that he presumed might’ve been a baby. Her tattered brown dress and threadbare shawl spoke of her poor station, confirmed when others turned away from her.

She ran toward a nearby patron, holding her child out to them. “Please! Help me! She’s ill!”

Face pinched with disgust, the other woman waved her off and walked away.

The woman with the child darted toward a couple, but before she got close, the male shoved her backward. She tumbled to the ground, her baby falling out of her arms, and the swaddling loosened, revealing a tiny, pale body covered in black veins and gleaming chitin.

A collective gasp and chattering droned through the crowd, as they gathered around the child who wheezed and trembled.

Kazhimyr slowed his steps. A quiet tick, tick, tick in his head marked each second the child continued to breathe.

Until it stopped.

The woman let out a wail of pain, and as she bent to lift the child, a black filament emerged from its mouth, followed by a bulbous abdomen. A spider crawled out onto the stones. Hands trembling over the child as if she didn’t know what to do with them, the screaming mother’s eyes swept through the crowd and somehow landed on Kazhimyr.

His skin crawled as she held his gaze, her lips twisted in scorn while accusation burned in her eyes.

“You did this. You brought this here!”

He screwed his eyes shut and shook his head of her voice. When he opened them again, the mother’s snarling expression from before had softened to sorrow, as she stared down at the child.

Whispers grew louder, some heightening to panic, and the onlookers backed away.

A dark mass erupted from the baby’s mouth, and dozens more spiders skittered out of its body, scampering through the crowd that quickly dispersed. Screams filled the market, bodies darting past Kazhimyr and his two companions, knocking the Letalisz in the shoulder.

And just like that, it had begun. Wouldn’t be long before the whole city was infested.

Someone cried out to the right of him, and Kazhimyr twisted around to see another onlooker bent over himself, twitching and gagging. His skin undulated where a mass seemed to slither beneath, black veins trailing behind it.

The crowd broke into chaos, toppling over vendor carts, trampling produce and flowers.

Glass and ceramic shattered. Shouts and cries reverberated off the stone buildings that surrounded them.

Through the melee, Kazhimyr spied a group of men wearing the distinct banners of the city’s guard pushing toward the convulsing man who’d clearly gotten infected.

“We shouldn’t remain in the open like this.” Dravien spoke low from behind, and while part of Kazhimyr agreed, another part of him couldn’t help but wonder why it mattered. Soon, they’d be swarmed by creatures, and whatever threat the three of them may have posed would seem trivial.

Still, Kazhimyr lowered his head and pushed toward a narrow alley, dragging Dorjan along.