Page 208 of Vasmora

Dolion sat across from Kazhimyr, watching him scarf down bread and stew like it might walk off his plate. “Are there any details of your infection that you can recall?” he asked.

Beside him, Torryn sat carving a new wooden figure. The bigger Letalisz had been assigned to watch over Kazhimyr, though he seemed far more engrossed in his handiwork.

“Raw meat,” Kazhimyr said, and, wincing, he pushed his bowl of food away.

Torryn snorted. “The hell’d you eat raw meat for?”

Kazhimyr narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t choose to eat it. It was an uncontrollable craving.”

“Like pregnancy.”

Kazhimyr ran his hand down his face and groaned.

Dolion would’ve laughed at his irritation, had his mind not been so wrapped up in other thoughts. “What I mean is, did you have visions of anything unusual. Anything that might lead us to Cadavros?”

Kazhimyr sat quietly for a moment, a look of concentration wrinkling his brow. “I remember a dream. There were tunnels. Long stretches of dark tunnels. And I saw strange symbols etched in the wall. I’d never seen them before, and yet, I knew they spelled Nosdefendt.”

Protect us. The tectuns Dolion had seen with Allura when they’d visited the archives.

“There were thousands of cocoons and thick stretches of webs.” Kazhimyr winced. “That’s where the voice was loudest.”

Cadavros must’ve chosen to hide beneath the city, building his army. Waiting to attack, just like a spider catching flies in its web.

Kazhimyr rubbed the back of his neck, staring off. “If we could trap him, somehow, we could destroy him. Destroy all of them.” As though mesmerized by whatever image played in his mind, he slowly shook his head. “We could end this in a single attack.”

“Those tunnels are ancient. Few have ever set foot inside them. We’d be traversing them blind. Besides that, we don’t want to kill Cadavros right away. The amulet is in his possession and has to be retrieved, in order to trap Pestilios, first.” As enticing as it may have been to kill the mutations all at once, Dolion knew it wasn’t a practical option. “Cadavros is the obvious target, and we need to keep it that way. We have an opportunity right now. Pestilios is essentially trapped in the body of Cadavros and can only be released through death. If the god were to inhabit one of the other infected, we’d never know which one. He would blend in as seamlessly as every other mutation, evading death and capture.”

“So, then, what is the plan?” Torryn asked.

Dolion sank back into his chair with a huff and shrugged. “I’m afraid that remains to be determined.”

Kazhimyr eased back in his own chair, stroking his jaw. “Maybe draw him out of the tunnel?”

Lips pressed tight, Dolion shook his head. “He’s not a fool. So long as Zevander is present, he won’t chance it. The god’s glyph is the only effective weapon against Cadavros.”

Torryn ran his blade over what had begun to look like the shape of a dog and held it up, examining it. “Is there a map of the tunnels?”

Again, Dolion shook his head. “Not at our disposal. I suspect it’s somewhere in Costelwick castle. Which is, at this point, undoubtedly overrun by those monstrous things.” He stroked his jaw, thinking.

“And with their predator senses, they would surely see us coming,” Kazhimyr added.

The comment made Dolion pause. “What did you say?”

“I said they’d surely see us.”

Except, Dolion could recall just recently, when they’d come through the portal from Sagaerin’s castle, the spider mutation that had followed them hadn’t seen the bigger threat of Branimir’s spider swiftly attacking. An observation that had struck him as odd at the time.

He sat forward in his chair. “Perhaps a map could be constructed.”

“How in the gods do you propose putting a map of those tunnels together, in the time we have, before all of Aethyria becomes infected?” Kazhimyr asked.

“Unconventionally.” Lost in his thoughts, Dolion drummed his finger against the table. “Let us resume this conversation once I’ve spoken with Branimir.”

“Branimir?” Torryn lowered the carving. “’The hell do you need to speak with him for?”

“I believe he might be able to help.”

Kazhimyr snorted, shaking his head. “Good luck with that one. The only one Branimir gives a damn about is Branimir.”