“It would make sense,” he began. “The Servalis stone is intended to absorb all magic before returning it to its holder the same as it was before. A Maji’s magic is as vital to them as air or water. To be stripped of it would mean death, and so if the snake was drawn into that before it was put inside her, I suspect they have become something that … if not new, then something that has not been seen in this world for a long, long time.”
Draeven stepped up then and asked, “And if the snake dies—what would become of Quinn?” He turned to look between Lazarus and Thorne, but they both shook their heads in answer.
“There’s no way to know for certain without killing it, but she would likely die too,” Thorne answered slowly. Draeven’s eyes flashed from a violet hue to maroon, but he continued. “Everything has a price, young rage thief.” He tilted his head towards Lazarus’ second-in-command and Draeven clenched his jaw. He didn’t like anyone mentioning who or what he was, for any reason. “She stole a piece of magic that wasn’t hers to behold and nature finds a way to balance that. Fortunately for you both, basilisks are one of the hardest creatures in this realm to kill due to their natural resistance to magical forces.” Draeven didn’t say anything, but the glare he shot Lazarus made it very clear that the coming conversation would not be pleasant, even if he wouldn’t say so in front of Thorne.
Lazarus pulled the Servalis stone from the satchel hanging at his side. The clear-cut stone that was once smooth had grown into jagged points with tips sharp enough to cut through skin. Lazarus lifted it to the light, and the stray rays of sun caught it just right, throwing off a series of smaller beams of light around the room.
“Do you know what to make of this?” he asked. Thorne stood from his throne and stepped forward to examine the crystal from every angle.
Silence filled the room for several moments when he finally stopped and returned to his throne without a word. There was a grimace to his face, his lips set in a line. “The kind of power that girl holds is immeasurable. There are only rumors of this happening to the stone. Stories … or so I had believed. I’ve heard tales of Maji from Cisea that went through the process and the stone itself changed as it did with her … and after all I’ve seen now, I know better than to dismiss those legends.” Lazarus couldn’t help the prickle of unease that went through him, followed by a shiver of delight. He knew that day he saw her in the market she would be something to behold, but he was not prepared for the conflicted emotions that ran through him which he couldn’t—wouldn’t—understand.
“She may be a fear twister, but whatever happened in that spring has made her more and it won’t be long before my people take notice. Her hair has already changed, and if my suspicions are correct, her powers may grow more volatile after this. She’s going to need guidance if you don’t wish to lose her to the darkness, Lazarus. Otherwise, she’ll begin to walk paths not even you or I would dream of.” Lazarus tucked the stone away again while Thorne spoke, confirming all of his suspicions and more.
“Quinn has always been volatile,” Lazarus said slowly. “The key to her is not restraining that power but learning how to redirect it so that it doesn’t destroy her or anything I don’t want it to.” Draeven shook his head and Thorne’s jaw tightened. Neither of them cared for his methods, but that was not his concern. That was why they weren’t the ones who had signed a blood contract with her.
“Regardless of how you choose to handle her, I’m going to have to ask that you and your party leave soon. The girl’s changes are going to draw unwanted attention towards me and those allowances I’ve given you. While my people seem to be quite fond of her, that might not be the case if they realized what you’ve done.” Lazarus tilted his head forward, his chin dipping.
“That won’t be a problem,” he said.
“Good,” Thorne replied, holding up a hand for Lazarus to pause when he turned to leave. “The other reason you might want to get moving sooner rather than later is that my men found evidence of others moving through these mountains. They’ve done well to stay concealed, but their tracks lead me to believe it’s not a small party—and they are likely not here for amicable reasons.” Lazarus sighed and cursed the damned noble brats. He had no doubts in his mind that if another group had entered these mountains, it was because they’d sent a hunting party straight for him. Claudius must truly be deteriorating for them to grow this bold.
“Thank you for the warning,” Lazarus said. “We’ll be leaving soon. Make sure the boy is ready if you still want me to take him.” He was already contemplating how fast he’d be able to get Quinn on a horse before this meeting; talking to Thorne only solidified that it was time. They’d gotten what they came here for and then some, but in Quinn’s condition, the journey out of the mountains wasn’t going to be easy.
Thorne chuckled. “I know your dislike for him, but he will serve you well in the coming trials.” He paused. “Take care with the girl. I don’t know how this will play out, but I’m interested in hearing Vaughn’s reports of what becomes of your situation.”
That’s one way to put it, Lazarus thought dryly. Draeven stepped around him and moved to leave without needing to be told. Lazarus held up a hand for him to pause.
“I need you to send a message out to Tritol. I have a feeling we’ll be bringing some unwanted guests to their doorstep,” he said.
“Consider it done,” his left-hand replied, descending down the ladder without another word. While his anger about Quinn’s situation might be problematic, his second knew where his place was at all times.
“We appreciate your hospitality this past week,” Lazarus told Thorne, and the other man only shook his head.
“Don’t forget our alliance,” he said. Lazarus nodded and began to descend when he spoke again. “And Lazarus”—Thorne paused—“may the Gods be with you, my friend.” In a whisper so quiet Lazarus hardly heard it, he added, “for both our sakes.”
Neiss
“People say to never trust a snake, but it is not the animal itself that is at fault—but the man who chose to back it into a corner.”
— Quinn Darkova, vassal of House Fierté, fear twister, Master of fear
Quinn’s eyes opened and focused on the patchwork of straw-like greenery that was the ceiling. Her muscles screamed as she groaned and moved to sit up.
“Oh no, dear, don’t move so fast.” Lorraine, who’d been across the tree hut quickly packing her things away, turned and rushed to Quinn’s side.
“What—” Quinn stopped and licked her dry lips. She felt like her tongue had swollen to the size of an andafruit.
She felt a hand pressing to her forehead and then heard Lorraine’s voice. “Your fever has broken,” she said with a sigh of relief, “and just in time too.”
“Just in time for what?” Quinn asked, blinking furiously, trying to bring the rest of the ridiculously bright space into focus. The more she did it, the less the light seemed to bother her.
“We’re leaving Cisea,” Lorraine said. “Master Lazarus came down from the mountain with you early this morning. He’s been with Thorne and Draeven since. Dominicus just got word that we’re leaving before twilight.”
Quinn shook her head and then moved her legs out from under the covers they’d piled on top of her. “Oh no, don’t get up just yet. Rest as much as you can,” Lorraine said quickly, pushing the covers back over her body. “We’ll be riding on horseback for several hours today before we break. It’ll take us a few days, at least, to get back out of the mountains.”
“I’m fine,” Quinn insisted, pushing the covers back once more and getting to her feet. She stared down at the burlap shirt and loose black trousers. Shooting a look Lorraine’s way, the other woman sighed and nodded.
“Yes, I changed you,” she said, answering Quinn’s unspoken question.
Quinn narrowed her eyes and shifted on her feet. “Thanks,” she replied, unused to saying the word.
Quinn sensed Lorraine’s attention on her as she untied the lace
s of her trousers and redid them tighter so that they cinched to her hips. As she moved, the oddest sensation came over her … like there was something under her skin. It prickled along her spine with unrest. Quinn shifted, noting that along with that itchy sensation, there was something else that felt sore and achy. Almost as though she’d been burned and then healed. She knew that feeling all too well. After all, she had been a slave, and as such had been branded seventeen times with hot irons pressed to her skin to mark her as nothing more than cattle. Quinn held her breath for a moment, trying to recall everything that happened up the mountain.
The skin below her abdomen twinged, just to the left of her navel, sending a jolt of pain through her. Quinn clamped her teeth together, her jaw tight as her hand dropped to the edge of her shirt. If she saw a brand there after everything she and Lazarus had been through … Quinn didn’t let herself finish that thought even as dark and pungent magic began to saturate the air.
Lifting her tunic, Quinn held her breath, and then let it out in a huff. Though the small stretch of skin hurt when she moved, there was nothing there, brand or otherwise. “How long was I asleep?” Quinn asked, releasing the material and trying to put her strange physical feelings aside.
“I don’t know. You and Master Lazarus were up in the mountains for days,” Lorraine replied. “You only got back just this morning.”
“Days?” Quinn gaped. “How many days?”
“Almost four,” Lorraine said.
That wasn’t right. If that were true, then Quinn would have been unconscious for … at least three days. Something fluttered at the edge of Quinn’s peripheral, she turned her head and tried to make sense of what she saw. Grabbing a hunk of her hair, Quinn pulled it fully over her shoulder and held it up to the light. “What in the dark realm…” It was purple. Not a deep purple, but still a light lavender, and not the silver-near-white it had been.
“You showed up like that,” Lorraine said quietly. Quinn looked between her hair and the other woman who stood somewhat uneasily, shifting side to side. Lorraine looked to the door where Dominicus stood and Quinn sensed she wanted to say more but wasn’t supposed to.
“What happened to me?” she whispered. No sooner did the words leave her lips and it all came crashing in. The memories, the dreams, the pain, the voice…
“You were dying,” a voice said in her mind. The same ancient one that held her through that fevered delirium. “We both were.” Quinn’s breathing sped up as she waited for Lorraine or Dominicus to respond, but neither seemed to notice the voice at all.
Can they not hear it?
Quinn looked between them wide-eyed, wandering perilously close to the edge of crazy. If they can’t hear it, then that could only mean—
“I don’t know,” Lorraine said, her worried expression flitting between Quinn and Dominicus. “Lazarus only told us he had to test your magic. He didn’t say how.” Quinn swallowed hard and looked away.
She’d walked into the spring knowing what might happen. She didn’t blame him for the outcome because deep down without a shadow of doubt, Quinn knew—despite what he’d told her—he had also saved her. The pain had become too much and when she couldn’t handle it, she had finally given in to the waters, and somehow, someway, her body had been pulled out and brought back here. The rest was a bit hazy … but those memories still lurked.
As did the voice inside her.
“What are you?” Quinn whispered.
“Who are you talking to—” Lorraine started, but Quinn held up a hand to hush her.
“I am fear,” the voice answered, repeating what it had told her before. “And you are my master.”
Quinn turned away from Lorraine, facing the window that overlooked the forest as she said, “But that is not your name. What do I call you?”
“Quinn, what are you—”
“I do not have a name. I did once, but it has been so long since the God that created me has spoken.” Quinn pondered, ignoring Lorraine’s prattling as she lifted her hands and pushed up her sleeves. A thick purple tail wrapped around her wrist and circled up her arm. It was the body of a snake, and it moved.
Quinn lifted her hand and turned to Lorraine.
“Do you know what this is?” she asked in a voice of deadly calm. Lorraine’s eyes widened and Quinn looked to Dominicus who appeared equally at a loss for words.
“I have a feeling,” she said eventually. Quinn nodded.
“Lazarus did something to me, didn’t he?” she asked, not quite an accusation but still a demand for answers.
“I—” she broke off as the shadow man himself appeared through the doorway where Dominicus stood. The guard stepped aside without a word to let Lazarus through. Draeven wasn’t far behind.
“Quinn,” Lazarus said slowly. Her eyes flashed as the tail of the snake began to break away from her flesh.
“What happened to me, Lazarus?” she asked as the serpent slipped completely from her and yet still coiled around her body. The sudden weight of it winding up one arm, over her shoulder, and down her back was more than she was expecting. Quinn stumbled and the creature that called itself ‘fear’ darted out from under her shirt, moving to place itself in front of her and swelling to more than double its size as Lazarus and Draeven stepped forward—whether to help or not, she didn’t know, which meant that neither did the snake. The animal eyed them in warning.
“Tell the basilisk to stand down,” Lazarus ordered instead of answering her. She stumbled into the side of her cot, placing a hand on the wall to keep herself from falling onto it. Like it or not, she was still weak from the spring.
“How do you know I can talk to it?” Quinn snapped back, running a sweat-slicked hand over her wrinkled shirt before rubbing her eyes. A thick end of a tail wrapped around her ankle, and Quinn blinked. The snake was stroking her, almost affectionately.
“Do not worry, master. I will protect you.”
Lazarus gave her a look, then pointedly glanced at the snake as if making his point clear. Lorraine, who had been only feet from her before, stepped back, as did Draeven. While they might have gotten used to Quinn, it appeared the basilisk—as Lazarus referred to it—was too much for them.
“It thinks I’m its master,” Quinn said in a weary breath. “Why does it think that?’
“Because you are,” Lazarus said in an exasperated tone. She narrowed her eyes on him and the snake took notice, growing in size once more until the full width of its body pressed against her lower legs and it released a hiss.
“I’m with the snake on this,” she said, righting herself and stepping away from the bed.
“Something happened when you went into the pool, and I had to use the basilisk to save you. The stone ripped away its soul, and now it resides in you. For all intents and purposes—you are its master,” Lazarus growled, the muscle in his jaw ticking.
The words the basilisk told her came back. You were dying … we both were.
And yet they both survived. Somehow.
“Wait a moment.” Quinn shook her head. Her mind catching the one thing she was pretty sure he didn’t want her to notice. “You used the basilisk? How? Are you a beast tamer—”
“No,” Lazarus said, cutting her off. A chill washed over her, a hint of that errant wind that caressed her bones those weeks ago—on the day they first met. If he isn’t a beast tamer but he can control a basilisk, what is he? “This isn’t a conversation I want to have here, Quinn,” Lazarus told her. His eyes flicked to the open window behind her, and she understood. “We need to talk about what happened, and I’ll answer your questions—but first, we need to get out of these mountains.”
She waited. They all did, standing tense as the basilisk reared its head, waiting for a command from her, ready to strike. The exhaustion in her bones ran deep, and despite her suspicions—Lazarus did save her, and he did carry her down the mountain.
“It’ll be a week in two days. I expect my answer whether we’re out of the mountains or not,” Quinn rep
lied, stepping up beside the snake.
“Fine, but you tell the basilisk to stand down, and since you’re feeling well enough to be a pain in my ass, get yours downstairs and on a horse. We’re leaving now.”
Lazarus turned and stalked to the door in the floor, sliding down before slipping out of it entirely. As one, Draeven, Lorraine, and Dominicus turned to look at her and the snake as it wrapped itself around her trembling form. She’d held out until Lazarus left, but her body couldn’t handle it much longer. While she might have been awake and able to move, she wouldn’t be training for a while yet. Even Dominicus, who’s blue eyes were always so piercing when he watched her, sighed and shook his head.
“You’re something, girl. I’ll give you that,” he said as he brushed his light brown hair back from his face. Quinn sighed, shuffling over to the bed before sinking down onto it.
“Things would be a lot easier if he wasn’t keeping secrets.” Quinn sighed, numbly noting how the basilisk curled around her waist as it shrunk in size again.
Soft footsteps approached, as Lorraine slowly came to kneel by her feet—a steaming cup in hand. “Drink this,” the older woman said. “It’ll help you regain your strength faster.”
“You might not want to do that—” Draeven started as Quinn took the cup and downed it in one go. Her chest racked itself as she let out a spluttering cough.
“What’s in that? Poison?” Quinn croaked as Lorraine gave her a slight smile and took the cup.
“Medicine,” she answered.
“Same thing,” Draeven bit out from the other side of the room where he watched her hesitantly.
“You’re scared of him, aren’t you?” Quinn asked, petting the sleek mauve scales. She liked the feel of them.
“Eh…” Draeven tilted his head side to side. “I’m not a fan of creatures that could eat me, or in its case, kill me with a bite.” Quinn shook her head, a slight upturn to the corner of her lips. “Are you going to make it on a horse this afternoon?” he asked.
Fortune Favors the Cruel Page 22