Gilded Serpent, page 42
He caught hold of her hips, lifting her, his head resting against her shoulder as a shudder ran through him, her name on his lips.
Marcus held her for a long time, their breathing ragged, then he slowly lowered her to the ground, their eyes locking.
“You all right?” she said softly, part of her still afraid that he’d pull away.
His mouth curved into a smile that warmed her heart, the reverent way he looked at her making her eyes prick. Lowering his head, he kissed her and she pulled herself against him, the steam having dissipated and a chill taking over the air.
“More hot rocks,” she said between kisses. “I’m cold.”
“And I’m hungry,” he said. “Let’s see if they have something better than mice.”
74
KILLIAN
Every inch of him hurt.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so thoroughly pummeled, and a big part of him sorely regretted not having finished the fight as soon as it began rather than drawing it out. But dropping a giant within a few blows would’ve raised suspicions, so he’d held back.
Unfortunately, it had turned out Baird had been doing the same, and it took a great deal of self-control not to follow Lydia up the stairs and beg her to take the edge off the pain.
Instead, he took the glass of whiskey Agrippa handed him and drained it, the liquid burning like fire down his throat. “Looks like you’re going to be sleeping on the floor,” the young man said, his grin wide. “She’s being rather unappreciative, in my opinion. She was the one caught cheating.”
Killian shrugged and said, “She’ll get over it,” though more likely he would have to plead for her forgiveness for acting this way. But it accomplished what he needed: Lydia being elsewhere would mean this pair couldn’t use her to provoke him.
Because they were clearly after something.
Baird was in the process of shoving pieces of rag up his broken nose to stem the bleeding, his voice muffled as he said, “So what’s your business in Deadground?”
Gods, was that truly the name of this place? He accepted a rag from the server and gingerly dabbed at his nose, which was definitely broken. Already his eyes were swelling to the point he could barely see. But that hurt far less than his cracked ribs, which screamed every time he took a breath. And then there was his arm. Shit. “I was part of the force harassing the Mudamorians between Mudaire and Abenharrow. We disbanded after the Mudamorians won at the ford, every man for himself. Was tricky business getting back with the Royal Army hunting down and killing every man trying to get to the wall, so I lay low in Abenharrow, which was where I met the girl. Convinced her to come back with me hoping she wouldn’t realize it was a bad idea until it was too late for her to turn around.”
They both laughed, Baird wincing and gripping his side.
“Deadground ain’t what it used to be,” Agrippa said. “Our lovely queen is cheap and sends supplies only for those tasked with watching over her weeds, leaving everyone else to feed off one another while we await her next orders.”
The mounds. “They’ve gotten large,” Killian said cautiously, not wanting to raise suspicions with questions. Or with ignorance.
“Big and useless,” Agrippa said. “Just like Baird.” He gave the giant an elbow in the side, laughing when Baird groaned in pain. “And they no longer take orders, if you get my meaning.”
Killian didn’t, but he nodded anyway.
“Rufina captured fresh talent that she hopes can get the blight flowing in the right direction,” Baird said. “What are the odds right now, little man?”
“Don’t call me that, you jackass,” Agrippa said. “And they’re five to one, favoring the Mudamorian Queen continuing to be reticent. Girl’s as tough as nails. Pretty too.”
Malahi.
She was here.
75
LYDIA
Playing her part, Lydia stormed up the stairs to their room, but once inside, she swiftly pulled on her cloak and mittens, then went back into the hallway and locked the door. Staying in this place any longer than they had to was going to get one or both of them killed, which meant finding Malahi soon.
Pulling up her hood, she slipped back down the stairs, glancing to where Killian sat, still shirtless, with Baird and Agrippa. While obviously in pain, he didn’t appear in immediate danger, so, keeping her head down, she fell in behind another group that was leaving the common room and moved out into the street, her spectacles fogging in the chill air.
Despite the hour, the town was bustling as though it were midday anywhere else, though the prevalence of staggering drunks spoke to the idleness of those trapped in this town. Hunted in Mudamora and prevented from returning to their homes in Derin, she could well understand why they’d turned to drink.
Marching along as though she had purpose, Lydia moved through the town, searching for a place that seemed a likely location for keeping prisoners, her strategy to find the only soldiers in town who weren’t drunk because they’d presumably be on duty doing something. Yet everywhere she walked, all she found was the chaos and wildness of those without purpose, the buildings she ventured into filled with people struggling to survive.
Stepping back out into a street, Lydia paused in the shadows to take stock of her situation. Cloud cover blocked what light there was from the moon and stars, the mountains little more than shadows. But the green glow of the mounds was clearly visible.
They were under guard.
Frowning, Lydia walked to the edge of town, stopping to look down the slope at the strange glowing hillocks, the smell of the blight heavy in her nose. Undoubtably the source of it—possibly a fungus or parasitic plant of sorts that stole life from the land to feed itself.
Were they something natural to the land?
Or had the tenders been forced to create them?
Either way, she wanted a closer look.
There were four men standing guard over the mounds, though they seemed more interested in holding their hands over the fire they had built nearby. Lydia kept low as she crossed the empty ground between them and the town, using the cover of darkness and snowdrifts to hide her motion. The wind howled, and the raucous noise of the drunks in the streets easily disguised any sound she made, but relief still filled her as she slipped behind the mound most distant from the guards.
Her relief didn’t last.
This close, she could see that the twisting mass of vines making up the mound were shifting and moving, unnatural in every way. She waited to see if the mound would react to her presence. But while the vines continued to squirm, they made no move toward her. So she reached out to grasp one of them.
It throbbed beneath her hand with the same pulsing beat as a heart, but it didn’t fight against her as she tugged it aside. Grasping another one, she eased it out of the way, slowly creating a passage into the woven mass of glowing vines.
Taking a deep breath, she eased into the tunnel, making her way toward the center of the mound and pushing aside the vines as she crawled. Soon not even her feet stuck out the side, but the brilliance emanating from the center drew her deeper, the feel of the vines moving beneath her like crawling on a bed of snakes.
Then she saw something. A figure.
Ignoring the chill of fear that told her to get out, Lydia eased aside a thick tangle, gasping at what she found before her.
It was a woman.
Far older than Lydia, the woman was wrapped round with vines, thin filaments running through her hair. Her eyes were closed and her skin illuminated by the green glow of the vines. She was kneeling, her hands barely visible where they pressed against the ground, although there was no mistaking the black lines of blight radiating from her fingertips.
Lydia stared at the black murk drawing life away from everything it touched, like a parasite. Gagging, she considered withdrawing, but curiosity drew her closer to the woman.
She seemed catatonic, entirely unaware of Lydia’s presence, and as she drew aside some of the vines, Lydia saw why. The vines weren’t just wrapped around her, they were running through her, the woman and the vine parasite merged together. Almost … almost as though the woman were now more plant than human.
“Gods,” Lydia whispered, trying to understand how such a thing was possible. How it could be undone.
And then the thought fell upon her: Malahi could be in one of these mounds.
Wriggling backward, her arms and legs tangling up, she finally tumbled out onto the snow with a soft thud. She sat frozen, waiting to see if the guards had heard her, whether they’d come to investigate, but they never broke from their conversation around their fire. So Lydia moved to the next mound.
Doing her best to stay quiet, she wrenched the vines out of her way, crawling toward the center until she found the tender within: it was a man, his face unfamiliar.
Retreating, she moved on, gasping for breath but unwilling to rest lest Malahi be imprisoned within one of these things.
How would she get her out without killing her? Even her mark had its limits and she’d have to practically tear Malahi apart to get her free.
What would it do to Killian if he couldn’t save her?
Tears burned in her eyes, and she pushed up her spectacles to wipe at them before moving onto the third mound. Then the fourth. Then the fifth.
All strangers.
Crawling to the eighth mound, the one closest to the soldiers, she fought with the vines, struggling her way inside, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
Please don’t be her.
Please be a stranger.
She shoved aside a tangle of glowing green, and Lydia’s heart hitched as she caught sight of blond hair.
No.
Tears flooded down her cheeks as she maneuvered herself around, dragging at the vines covering the woman’s face.
It wasn’t Malahi.
Wherever the Queen of Mudamora was, it wasn’t here.
76
KILLIAN
“How pretty?” It was a struggle to keep his voice steady, his heart thundering like a drum.
Agrippa made a tsking noise, then shook his finger at Killian. “It’s a good thing your Gertrude isn’t here. What would she say to such a question?” Not waiting for a response, he added, “Very pretty. And she’s got bigger balls than Baird, although apparently that doesn’t take much. Screamed at Rufina that she’d die before hurting her country. The look on our dear queen’s face would’ve had most men, myself included, shitting their pants, but that little lass was pure defiance.”
“Leave my balls out of this sad story,” Baird grumbled, draining yet another pint of ale.
“Sad?” Killian’s stomach dropped. Please don’t let me be too late.
“Rufina took her back across the Liratoras to her fortress in Helatha.” Agrippa took a sip of his drink. “Knowing our queen as I do, my money is on her breaking the girl. And I rarely lose a bet.”
Anger and darkness rose in Killian’s chest, threatening to consume him. Making him want to lash out at these bastards who’d stood by and done nothing while Malahi was brutalized.
Instead, he picked up his cup and drank until the emotion faded. Malahi was on the far side of the Liratoras, in wherever this Helatha was, which meant that was where he and Lydia needed to go. And these two likely knew how to get there. “That was probably a sight to see.”
“One that will stick with me,” Agrippa said. “But on a more favorable topic, what’s your plan now that you’ve returned to Deadground?”
“There’s nothing here for us,” Killian said. “I want to go home.”
“That will cost you,” Agrippa answered. “Just before we flanked the Royal Army, Rufina”—he spat onto the floor—“blew up the xenthier path leading back across the Liratoras. Didn’t want us to have an avenue for retreat.”
Killian scowled. “How did she do it?”
“Called down the skies,” Agrippa answered, then gave a side glance at Baird, whose cheeks reddened as he said, “She didn’t give me much of a choice, you know.”
Confused, Killian stared at the giant for a long moment, and then realization dawned upon him, many pieces coming together, including why the giants of Eoten Isle hadn’t started a war since the sacking of Serlania when Killian was a boy—they only fought when they had their even twenty-four Marked. “You’re a summoner.”
Baird shrugged. “I’m sure there’s a darker word for what I am, but aye. Rufina had me call lightning down on the stem, and it shattered the damn thing. Surprised you didn’t feel the quake all the way at the coast.”
Killian shook his head. “No. And we weren’t told.”
“No surprise, that,” Baird said. “She wants what remains of her army here, ready and waiting for her next move.”
“Worked out well enough for us in the long run, no?” Agrippa elbowed the giant in the ribs, Baird groaning and clutching his side even as he nodded.
“How so?”
“In our queen’s absence, we’ve formed a side business,” Agrippa answered. “We escort those who want to get home back across the Liratoras. For a price.”
“There are better ways to gain yourself customers than accusing them of cheating at cards and challenging them to barroom brawls.”
Baird chuckled, tapping his glass against Killian’s. “We don’t want you as a customer, Tom. That was more of a … trial.”
“Lots lurking in the Liratoras,” Agrippa added. “We need good men to get our paying customers through, and thanks to that Mudamorian bastard Calorian, the best are ash on the wind. We’ve not been able to convince anyone on the Derin side to take up the work.”
They were offering him a gods-damned job? “And why would I be interested in taking on such a risk?”
“One,” Agrippa said, lifting a finger, “we’ll pay you five pieces of gold if you survive to the far side. Two, you’ve got a girl you’re enamored enough with to fight a giant over. Three, a town like Deadground is no place to make a life with a lass like your Gertrude, which is why we’ll let you bring her along.”
Swirling the contents of his glass, Killian pretended to consider the offer, which was better than he could have hoped for—a guided route into Derin. “I might be interested,” he said. “But it will be weeks before I’m fit to fight.” He gestured at his broken arm with his glass.
Agrippa gave a sour look at Baird. “Why can you never control yourself?”
“He insulted my balls—would you have had me let such an insult stand?”
“That was after you broke his arm, you stupid lump.” The young man cast his eyes skyward. “As recompense for Baird’s eagerness, we’ll get you fixed up well enough to fight.”
There’s only one way for them to do that.
Killian frowned and took a sip of the whiskey one of the servers had brought over, pretending to be unconvinced. “Maybe I take the girl back into Mudamora. The Liratoras are dangerous.”
Annoyance flickered across Agrippa’s eyes. “Ten gold coins. And I get you fixed up tonight.”
Killian lifted his cup. “Deal.”
Rising, Agrippa went to the rear of the room and opened a curtain to reveal a table full of gamblers. He bent to talk to a man whose back was to the main room. Despite not seeing the man’s face, Killian’s skin crawled, his gut telling him what his eyes did not.
Corrupted.
Shrugging a slender shoulder, the corrupted rose, sauntering over to their table. His eyes were black pits, though the flames that flickered around the irises were muted. He made a soft tsking noise at the sight of Killian, shaking his head. “This will be an expensive repair, Agrippa. Are you sure?”
“Just the arm and the ribs,” Agrippa answered flatly, slapping a gold coin down on the table. “You get greedy, Sly, and I’ll put a knife in your heart.”
The corrupted gave the young man a wounded look, then smirked. “We could find another sacrificial lamb.”
“No.” Agrippa pulled back his sleeve. “Now get it done.”
“As you like.” The corrupted—Sly—crooked a finger at Killian. “Come here.”
It was nearly all Killian could do not to pick up his sword and kill the thing in front of him.
“Get up, Tom,” Agrippa snapped. “He’s not going to bite a paying customer.”
Rising slowly, Killian circled the table to stand next to them, aware that everyone in the common room was watching.
The corrupted’s eyes moved up and down his body, then he said to Agrippa, “Are you ready?”
Face souring, the young man nodded, flinching as Sly took hold of his wrist. Then Sly reached out and caught Killian’s forearm, hand closing painfully over the fracture. Warmth flooded into him even as the pain abated, then the corrupted moved his hand to Killian’s side, fingers trailing down his ribs. “Cracked, but fortunately for Agrippa, not broken.”
Realization of what was happening dawned on Killian. Sly wasn’t healing him by sacrificing some of himself, but rather was acting as a conduit, taking from Agrippa to mend Killian’s broken bones. Killian lurched back. “I’ll be fine.”
“Bullshit,” Agrippa snapped. “I’ve cracked enough ribs to know. Do it, or the deal is off.”
Indecision warred inside of him. This was the opportunity he desperately needed to get into the heart of Derin to retrieve Malahi, but at what cost to his own soul? What would the gods think, seeing him agree to this?
“Well?”
Whatever the cost, he needed to pay it. He owed Malahi that much. “Fine.”
Sly pressed his hand back against Killian’s side, and the pain rushed away, each breath no longer agonizing. Then he smiled. “All better. Though it’s a shame Agrippa won’t pay to fix that pretty face.”
“Time will do that.” Keeping a wary eye on the corrupted, Killian circled back around to take his seat, donning the clothes and weapons Lydia had tossed on the table.
The corrupted sighed, then plucked the coin off the table and slipped it into his coat pocket. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Agrippa.”
