Page 139 of Vasmora

Ignoring him, Kazhimyr lifted the prince’s head, resting it in his lap. “Come on, Dorjan! You’re all right!”

“He is clearly not all right,” Oswin volleyed.

The prince’s eyes rolled back in his head, black ooze seeping out of the corners of his mouth. He stilled, expelling one long breath.

Sails luffed then snapped, settling against the mast.

The hull stilled, the unnaturally abrupt stop pulling Kazhimyr’s attention from the prince only briefly.

“What in the gods …” Oswin glanced around. “Not a single wave.”

“Dorjan.” Kazhimyr patted his cheek and shook him by the shoulders. “Wake up.”

The prince’s head lolled to the side and remained flopped forward.

Another pat on the cheek failed to rouse him.

“Oh, no.” Kazhimyr shook him harder. “Wake up, Dorjan!”

“Allow me.” Oswin crouched beside them and pressed his fingers to the prince’s neck. “He’s dead.”

“Well, revive him!” Kazhimyr demanded, but the old man shook his head.

“That man was sick with infection. I will not attempt to resuscitate him and risk infecting myself!”

“You would deny your prince!” the Letalisz snarled back at him.

“He is beyond saving.”

The words sank to the pit of Kazhimyr’s stomach. His blood turned cold.

A shadow crawled over the boards of the deck, and Kazhimyr lifted his gaze toward the sky, where dark, ominous clouds rolled in overhead. A bright flickering, too constant to be lightning, flashed across his eyes, blinding him, and Kazhimyr turned away.

“It’s happening!” Dravien shouted. “The god has awakened!”

“What god?” Oswin pushed to his feet, staring up at the sky. “What are you talking about?”

“Pestilios.” Dravien stared back at the prince, his face paling with each passing second. “The Black Pestilence will spread through Aethyria.”

Frowning, the old man shook his head. “Those are the mad ravings of mages. There is no–”

An ear-splitting thunderclap echoed around them, and the boat pitched and rocked in the swell of rough waves. Kazhimyr scrambled for Dorjan as the prince slid toward the edge, catching him just before he tumbled overboard.

A growl ripped through the sky, like demons tearing through to their world.

Oswin barked orders at Dravien, and the two of them scrambled to control the vessel.

Movement at Dorjan’s flank pulled Kazhimyr’s attention, and he lifted the cloak to find one of the spider legs had poked through the prince’s wound.

Kazhimyr threw him off and kicked himself backward. “Get off the boat!”

Dravien tied off one the lines and turned around, his brows pulled tight.

“Get off the boat, now!” Kazhimyr snapped his attention toward the two men and jumped to his feet.

“I’m not leaving my boat! We’re in the middle of the ocean!” Oswin argued, the stubborn old prick holding the tiller. “If the sharks don’t get ya, the dragons will! Throw him overboard instead!”

“I’ve seen an infected Koryn. They’ll survive in water!” Kazhimyr growled and stomped his way down inside the cabin, swiping up the two oil lanterns. He smashed one of them onto the burlap mattress, the flame catching on the material within seconds.