Page 21 of Vasmora

“Probably on the other side?”

Again, I twisted the knob and pounded on the door. “Hey! Is anyone there?” I paused to listen and heard the distant thud of footsteps approaching, but not through that door. They came from the corridor beyond the cell’s entrance.

“Oh, no.” The Golvyn blew the small torch out, throwing me back into darkness with only the smoke and pitch lingering on the air

“Wait! Please don’t go!” I patted around the darkness, my hand knocking against the shells of consumed bugs.

Heavy iron squealed on its hinges and let out a clank. Light bled into the room, once again forcing me to shield my eyes. In the doorway stood the broad silhouette of a man whose poised stature told me it was Captain Drefan. The outline of what looked like a bird sat perched on his shoulder, and as my vision adjusted, I saw that it was, in fact, a crow.

The bird swooped into the room and found a perch on one of the wooden rafters overhead.

“Thought you could use some company. Are you familiar with mimicrows?” He twisted away, lifting a ladle from the bucket just inside the entrance of my cell yet out of my reach. Absent of his usual leather and armor, he wore a white tunic and brown leathers.

I didn’t bother to answer, as he stepped closer, splashing water over the edge of the ladle with his approach.

“They pick up sounds, repeating what they hear.” As soon as the words had left his lips, the bird let out a quiet whimper. “Their memories are long and extensive, some carrying messages from as far back as early Aethyria and the age of the gods. Incredible creatures.”

I glared up at him, as he stood over me, holding the ladle outstretched. As much as I wanted to smack it away, as I’d done so many times before, my parched throat urged me to take a sip.

“You deny me again, and it’ll be the last time I offer.”

Against my stubborn will, I reached out with trembling hands and accepted the fluids. The stench of sulfur burned in my nose, watering my eyes as I gulped back fluids that were rancid and stale yet necessary. I sucked down every drop, eyeing the tiny pools on the floor where he’d spilled it on his way in.

“More?” the captain asked.

How badly I wanted to tell him to go to hell, my pride grinding between my clenched teeth, but I nodded.

“I didn’t hear that.”

“Yes,” I hissed.

“Yes, what?” A gold chain looped around his neck drew my attention to a small white vial dangling there. Seeming to sense my stare, he tucked the vial inside his tunic, shifting my attention back to his raised brow. “Yes. What?”

“Please.”

“Please!” The voice that echoed from overhead stilled my heart. Deep, raspy, and brimming with pain, its sound was unmistakable. “It burns! It fucking … burns!”

Nausea gurgled in my stomach as I fought to focus. Zevander?

“This particular mimicrow is the general's most prized pet. She was kind enough to share it with you.” As he strode back to the entrance, I glanced around the rafters, wondering if I’d see a vision of him. If perhaps I’d catch his ghost lurking in the dark corners of the cell. “It carries the voice of her most beloved prisoner. And his suffering,” the captain said, fetching another ladle of water.

On his return, he knelt in front of me, holding the ladle between us, and as I reached out for it, he spat into the fluids.

I glared back at him and, when he inched the ladle closer, turned away.

“Suit yourself,” he said, pouring it onto the floor beside me. “Since we’re on the topic of birds, there appears to be an exceptionally large creature flying about the palace grounds. I’m told he belongs to you.”

A twinge of hope bloomed in my chest, but I kept my head turned, not wanting him to see it burning in my eyes.

“Evasive creature. I’ve never seen anything like it before. A mortal beast, I presume. We mounted an attack, using a harpoon we like to call the dragon’s knell for the sound it makes when it sails through the air toward its target. The beautiful hum of inevitability. It’s not a typical bolt, you see. Its shaft splinters on impact into thousands of iron prongs that tear through dragon flesh like a hot blade through a ripened peach.”

A dark, viscous dread pooled in my guts. “No.” I covered my face in my palms, the visual he’d planted inside my head stabbing my own heart.

“Awww, don’t worry, love. We’ve got our men searching the surrounding woods for him. We’ll bring what’s left of him back to you. So long as you keep me entertained in the meantime.”

“I will never give myself to you,” I gritted, gaze tearing into him like daggers.

“I will never surrender myself to you! Never!” the crow screamed overhead in Zevander’s voice.