Queen of Destruction, page 7
part #2 of Queen of Extinction Series
No time for that. Enjoy the spoils later.
The street now completely clear, he stalked down the steps and crouched beside the body. She could have been pretty were it not for her oversized, colorless eyes. Gray and milky, they didn’t look human. What sort of creature was she? What magic did she possess? Was she one of the higher Magical lines they needed for his potion? He had no idea, and wouldn’t know until he smoked those terrible eyes.
Raith pulled the arrow from her neck and fresh blood squirted onto his hands. He licked his fingers, but without access to the magic tickling his senses, the blood didn’t satisfy. He wiped the arrowhead on his trousers.
Now to extract the eyes for the smoke ritual.
He hated this part. Killing was one thing, but dismembering the bodies …
He would do it later. Once he’d brought the body back to Niing’s underground burrow to join the other five corpses stashed there. Artemis had apparently laughed in delight when Carian, who had met with the king that morning, had proposed storing the bodies as part of a ploy to lure Aurora in. The king had agreed that they would fill gondolas and boats with the dead, and let them sail out past the Guardians with the Ryferian flag flying high for Aurora to find.
Would such a crazy scheme work? Raith doubted it. The likelihood of Aurora ever finding the bodies was so small it was inconceivable. But Artemis was too ignorant of the world outside the thorny walls of Ryferia to figure that out. It bought Raith and Carian time to get his potion made before the month was up. Then it didn’t matter what Artemis planned.
He grabbed the dead woman by the leg and hauled her up onto his shoulder. Grunting beneath her weight, he marched back up the stairs to where he had left the horse Artemis had offered Carian for Raith to use to get the job done.
The fat beast munched on a bushel of apples abandoned on a wooden cart. He tossed the body over its back, securing the woman with a rope. The horse nickered as Raith mounted. He yanked sharply on the reins, propelling the mare to the burrow.
The winding passage of narrow stairs down to the burrow where Carian worked stank of blood, mildew, and soil. That confounded poisoned garden was here somewhere, too. Someday, Raith would burn the place down.
With the body thrown across his shoulder, he lumbered into a side tunnel forking off the alchemy laboratory, where he and the rest of suitors had brewed their potions during the trials. He tossed her down on top of the other corpses he had already dismembered for magical body parts.
Now to extract the milky eyes.
Gingerly, he levered the tip of his dagger into the woman’s socket. Face contorted into a grimace, he wriggled it about until the nerves and tissues holding it in place severed. Then it was a simple matter to scoop the eye jelly up with his blade, as if he were eating oysters. He popped the eye into his knapsack—Carian would hopefully use it for the potion—and then repeated the action with the other eye. This one, he would smoke. Knapsack clenched in his fist, he set off to join Carian, cringing at the wet squelch of the eyes bumping together.
The door to the alchemy laboratory squealed loudly on old hinges as he entered. Carian didn’t even look up from the yellowed pages of a book on the workbench. He ran his finger along neat lines of text. Finally acknowledging Raith’s presence, he said, “About time you got back. Did you get anything good?”
Wordlessly, Raith lifted a slippery eye from his knapsack and tossed it onto the tabletop. It left a round, liquid imprint on Carian’s splayed book.
Carian wrinkled his nose, and poked it with his quill. “Charming.”
Raith braced both hands on the bench, fingernails digging into the hard wood. “Can you tell if it’s from one of the creatures we need?”
Carian plucked it up. His thick eyebrows nudged together as he studied the gray orb. There were no veins, no color, and no pupil to be seen. “Hard to say,” he murmured. “I can run some experiments, but nothing will tell us faster than smoking it. I’m guessing you still have the other eye?”
Raith nodded once. “I’m going out to smoke it as soon as we’re done here.” He ran a skeptical eye over Carian’s workspace. It was littered with books and parchment. Bottles and vials of all shapes and colors spread across the rest of the expansive tabletop. A mixture of both delicious and nauseating aromas spilled from the open ones. Leaves, flowers, and dried herbs covered trays he’d propped up on the piles and piles of books. They looked ready to collapse at any moment. “Are you getting any actual work done here, or are you just playing with Aurora’s toys?”
Carian smirked. “I would work a lot faster if you stopped standing around like a statue and actually brought me what I need.”
Raith’s brow furrowed in a deep scowl. Shaking his head, he made for the door, intent on leaving Ryferia through the broken giant so he could smoke the eye.
“Be careful out there, brother.” Carian’s voice made Raith stop. He looked at Raith through thick lashes, a smile dancing in his eyes. “Don’t take too much. You won’t have me there to help you this time.”
Raith pulled his hood tighter around his face. The black cloth bulged across his knapsack of body parts like a hunchback. Anyone seeing him leaving the palazzo would think him Infirm. The grim irony made him smile as he strode across the town to the pathway on the side of the hill, which led to the broken giant.
He heaved a sigh of relief to be away from Carian, Artemis, and the pressure of his task. Not to mention the thrill of anticipation that shot through him at the prospect of his smoke fix.
He sped up when he reached the Guardian fence. The broken giant, with its enormous hammer suspended at its midriff, was mere feet away. Twigs snapped beneath his boots as he skipped towards it. Once through its thick iron legs, magic hit him like a slap in the face. His fangs punched out of his gums. He groaned and threw his head back as pleasure flooded through him, dizzying enough to make him drunk.
Finally!
A chuckle rumbled deep in his throat as he ducked between the pine trees, away from the horrible fence. Roughly a quarter mile from the giant, he slowed to search for a spot to light his fire.
In his knapsack, he had the eye, a buckled foot, a malformed head, and a length of spinal column with flesh still clinging to the twisted bone extracted from the corpses in the burrow. Carian’s warning rang heavy; taking too much smoke would kill him. But if he didn’t smoke each of these parts to absorb the magic until it was his own, how would he know if they matched the higher Magical lines they needed for the potion?
“Just don’t get yourself killed,” he muttered under his breath as spotted a quiet clearing. He gathered bits of dead wood and then knelt to make his fire.
Carian had known the danger of too much magic inhaled too quickly when he’d shoved Raith’s nose into the smoke from their father’s severed tongue just a few weeks before.
Anger flushed through him, heat rolling off in waves. Carian had known the curse he’d placed on Raith, and hadn’t cared. As long as it served Carian’s purposes to have magic transferred to him, he’d do anything to his siblings, regardless of how life threatening it may be.
Raith struck his dagger against his flint, but the sparks failed to ignite the coil of dry grass tossed into his kindling. He rocked back on his heels and wiped his face with his sleeve.
Pity he hadn’t known that Carian cared only for himself when his brother had first approached him about murdering their father. It made him wonder if he had ever truly known Carian. For the hundredth time, he missed Trojean.
Hands shaking, he struck the flint again, but it shot straight of his hands. “I can’t even light a fire,” he snarled at himself. All he could do was suck people dry. “Just like Father always said.” He shook his head to dislodge the hateful memory. “Maleficent’s tits, stop it.” He picked up his flint, steadied his hands, and tried again. A spark hit the grass, sending up a curl of smoke. Raith bent down to nurture it. Soon he had a blazing fire ready for his ritual. He reached eagerly for his knapsack.
The milky eye was starting to shrivel. He grimaced, rolling it from his open palm into the fire. Sparks spat. Moments later, it popped and blackened, sending up tendril of storm-gray smoke. Swallowing hard, he planted his hands on the bed of pine needles littering the ground and leaned over to breathe in the magic.
The first breath was putrid.
His body writhed, and he had to fight not to gag as his eyes watered. The second breath filled his lungs and brain with a foggy sense of euphoria. Eyes rolling back in pleasure, he moaned and sucked in another deep breath.
Moisture pricked his skin, a new sensation, and the first clue to the magic that was now his. Water pooled in the pine needles around his fingers, now spindly and pale, and washed over his new, long, stick-thin legs. The skin on his back prickled and then bulged…He gasped and looked over shoulder as enormous, iridescent wings burst through his now ghostly-white flesh. They fluttered limply in the breeze. He knew exactly what this creature was: a water nymph. He laughed with joy at the discovery and sucked in another glorious breath. Any second now, he would be swimming. He just needed more water. Desperate for that freedom, he pulled in another breath, not caring that his head ached or that his vision burned red. More beautiful water sloshed from his hands.
The fire spluttered angrily.
Steam replaced the delicious smoke, blasting painfully into Raith’s face. He hissed and fell back into the pine needles. Scorching mucus poured from his nose. Fingers trembling, he wiped at it. They came back slick with blood. But they were also his fingers, not the spindly digits of the water nymph.
His stomach clenched.
How close had he come to overdosing? If it hadn’t been for his new water powers, which had doused the fire into nothing but a smoldering pile of sticks—
He shuddered at how close he had come to exploding his brain as he rolled onto his side to await a surge of energy that would come when his body adjusted to his new power.
He laughed with joy as it hit him.
A water nymph!
The sound bounced off the silent trees as they looked on.
Surely Carian could use the other eye in the potion? Add the minotaur they had already collected to the nymph, and they only had three lines left to collect before they had everything they needed for the potion.
They were one step closer to Aurora and her magic.
His laughter faded when he glanced over at his knapsack and its grisly contents. No matter how intriguing his collection was, there was no way he was risking more smoke today.
Not without Carian on hand to stop him from killing himself.
That brought his problem with his brother squarely back into focus. What would he do about Carian once the potion was complete? His conscience—his humanity—balked at the notion of making Carian an incubus, the magic he so desperately craved. With that much power in his psychopathic brother’s hands, Carian would rip the heart out of the Magical world. Entire species would be threatened because his evil brother would not stop killing once he’d claimed a magical power. Raith didn’t want that on his conscience. He had enough ghosts haunting him already.
With no answers to the problem, he clambered to his feet and scooped up his knapsack to resume his own killing.
He had not gone far when he stopped. An idea for dealing with Carian and Artemis uncurled in head—perhaps being away from the Guardians had allowed his creative juices to flow.
He would never be safe while Artemis saw him as a mere tool—a blade to wield—who would take the fall for the king’s crimes. Nor could he expect a long life while Carian regarded him as a ticket to a lifetime of free meals. The only way to secure his position, and his life, was to grasp as much power as he could.
That meant beguiling Artemis into giving him a seat in the forum. If he carried that favored title of Intelligentsia, it would increase his power over Carian. Not a long-term solution to his brother, at least it would buy him time until the potion was brewed. Despite the power-crushing Guardians, he had to try.
It was time to take control of his destiny.
Jorah dropped from the sky and slumped down onto the lawn in front of his lair with Aurora still clasped in his claws. He opened his talons to let her climb down, but she clung on to him.
“Jorah, your scales,” she gasped.
“I know,” he growled, painfully aware of the cool breeze fluttering against the exposed skin on his chest. He must have lost at least three scales when the magic blasted out of him. “We need to get inside before trouble finds us.” As much as he hated to admit it, he added, “I’m in no fit state for a fight.”
The giant front doors flew open. Feloran’s jaw dropped. “Maleficent’s nethers! What the hell happened to you?”
“Help Aurora,” Jorah commanded, lowering her gently onto her feet. “And watch for the others. They’ll be here soon.” He hopped off the lawn onto the path leading to his front door.
Aurora grabbed for him. “Just where are you going?”
He lowered his neck until his face was level with hers. As to be expected, she didn’t flinch from his maw of fangs. “I have to get to my forge. It’s the only place I can hope to fix this.”
Her hand clasped around a talon, little caring that it could slice her palm in two. “Let me come with you.”
He held his claw dead still so his talon didn’t cut her. No one, not even Lila, had ever entered his forge. The inner sanctum of his lair, it was where he went to hibernate when he needed to stoke his life force. The forge was also where he repaired damaged scales. It was the one place in the world where he could be vulnerable. “Go with Feloran. He will take care of you until the others arrive. I will join you later, and we will discuss our way forward. A trip to that confounded Oracle seems needed. Not to mention calling in Lazuli’s service. But we also have to consider the council. They will no doubt be baying for my blood.”
She tightened her grip on his talon. “Jorah Thalyn, we’re in this together. I felt that magic. You said I shouldn’t have, but I did. That means we’re connected on some level. And I need you just as much as I believe you need me. We can’t do this alone.”
Feloran rolled his eyes, but the gesture did nothing to hide the anxiety behind them. How long would they have before Sabrisia came for them? “Good luck convincing this great clod of that. If you think he’s fussy about dressing rooms, you haven’t seen how protective he is over his forge.”
Jorah shook his head, too tired to reprimand his friend, or to argue with Aurora. “I need to go.” But as soon as he extracted his talon from her grasp, two more scales sloughed off his chest and clattered onto the paving stones. He stared down at them in disbelief, then stooped low to pick them up.
Aurora scooped them up first. “See, that’s what happens when you try and cut me out.”
He hissed a low warning and held out his claw for them.
Face defiant, Aurora clenched them in her fist and folded her arms across her chest. “Growl as much as you want, dragon, but you aren’t having them. Not unless you let me come with you so I can help you get strong again.”
He grunted. “Why aren’t you struggling from it all?” Apart from her usual pallor, she looked no worse off for the experience. As happy as he was that she was stronger now that she was free of the Guardians, it didn’t seem right that she showed no sign of their ordeal.
She snorted a laugh. It sounded bitter. “I am struggling, Jorah. My energy is at an all-time low, but you forget that I’m used to battling my body.” She flushed. “I felt better when we were touching.” Her eyes fixed on his. “Your talon is razor sharp but it didn’t cut me, no matter how hard I gripped it. That’s how I know we need each other.”
Feloran’s long, thin hands clasped his hips and his head cocked. “Fascinating. So, Jorah, are you really going to refuse such a lovely damsel in distress?”
He wasn’t the only one to scowl at the fae.
Aurora snapped, “Elf! You’re not helping.”
Jorah closed his eyes and took a deep breath as Aurora’s hand clamped down on his claw. A tiny spurt of energy kicked through him as they touched.
It confirmed that she was right: they needed each other.
As painful—as violating—as it was, he had to either forget about seeking sanctuary in his forge, or invite her to join him. His desperate need for his forge’s healing power decided it for him. “Come. I just hope I don’t live to regret this.” With her in tow, he stomped down the path and into his lair.
She said nothing as he half slithered and half ran along passages and down hallways to the winding stairs that led to his forge. At the landing, he waved his claw to lower the complicated wards protecting his inner sanctum to allow Aurora to pass, but nothing happened.
Was he so weak that he couldn’t do something so basic?
Feloran spoke softly, “Allow me.” His hand fluttered across the ward, collapsing it around them.
Jorah glared at him. “Since when do you—”
“Tush, Jorah. I’ve worked for you my whole life. Don’t you think I’ve learned a few things during that time?”
“But you’ve never crossed this spot. I would have known.”
Feloran gave a slow, pained eyeroll. “Rats’ tails in your soup when you’re more grouchy than usual? Definitely. Itching powder in your sheets when you’ve left your books scattered around the house for me to pick up after you? Without question. Invade your forge? Not over my dead body.” He turned away. “I’ll greet everyone else when they arrive.”
He considered asking Feloran to reset the ward, but didn’t. It would be humiliating beyond measure if he wasn’t able to muster enough magic to remove the ward to leave his own forge. He grimaced, painfully aware that the wards he’d set up to protect the perimeter walls of his lair were kept in place through tapping into his wells of magic. Unless he regained his strength, a determined attack could bring them down.
All the more reason to get his body fixed.
With only room enough for him to pass, he took the stairs first, reveling in the rasp of his scales against the satiny-smooth rock as he slowly descended into the cave below his lair.
