Revenge Of The Elf (Book 1) (25 page)

With a barely audible moan, it let go and sank almost gratefully into the snow. The elf struggled not to vomit as its brains slid off her ankle.

Bellying along the ground, she scrambled toward the box.

Heard something swish beside her.

Saw the cord of shadow snaking through the air toward her face. The elf slashed with
A Flaw in the Glass
, but it reared out of the blade's savage arc and whipped toward her throat like an adder for the kill.
 

Magic crawled around her, turning the air into a shimmering curtain of heat. Realised the drumming in her ears had been the warlock's voice as he chanted. She gagged on the stench of magic as Chukshene shouted one last word of power.

And then there was silence.

Silence so thick she thought if she even breathed, it would shatter the world. So she held her breath.

The tendril of shadow, too, froze in mid-air.

“Oh, shit,” she heard him mutter into the silence. “It didn't fucking work, did it?”

The explosion tore her world apart.

Fire erupted from the earth with such force that the elf shrieked in terror. Chunks of boiling rock speared up from the ground in staccato bursts before raining down in thick clods of mud.

It was over in an instant.

And when the spots cleared from her eyes, she could see only scorched earth in all directions as everything living around the hill had been destroyed by fire. Chunks of flesh smoked among the debris, emitting a foul stench which lingered long after the acrid smell of magic had faded.

Her ears drummed dully as her hearing gradually returned, though the ringing continued for some time.

“Nysta?” the warlock picked his way carefully toward her. “You okay?”

Stunned by the blast, her mouth hung slack and she looked at him, unable to process what he was saying. His voice was muted, drained of emotion.

She coughed hard. Spat a mouthful of dirt and shook her head.

Fear and adrenaline mixed inside her blood, surging around her body and making everything feel so much more alive.
 

Her thoughts scattered and struggled to reform.

“Yeah,” he smirked, crouching beside her. His face was completely drained of colour as exhaustion took his energy away. “Big, wasn't it? I'll bet the bugs round here got fried as well. Good thing, too. I hate bugs. And spiders. I ever tell you that? Fuck, I hate spiders more than anything. Especially black ones. I hear you can get spiders as big as your hand. Can you believe that?”

But the elf had forgotten him as her dazed mind remembered Talek's box.

Ignoring her protesting ribs, she rolled painfully. Inched over the ground toward the small box sitting untouched by the explosive blast.

Reached out.

Couldn't quite touch it.

Wincing in pain, she used her toes to push herself closer.

Arm stretched as far as she could.

Her fingertip brushed the edge of the box.

“What's that?” the warlock asked suddenly.

Her gaze slid slowly up the bracer tied loose to her forearm and across the coffee-coloured lengths of her fingers. Along the top of Talek's box. And at the glistening cord of black hovering with menacing ease only half a foot from her fingertip.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Groaning, the spellslinger hauled himself to his feet. “Come on. More will come now. Run.”

He took a few ragged steps before noticing she hadn't moved.

“Nysta?” he called urgently. “Come on!”

Gritting her teeth, the elf glared at the thin black wire.

Her arms ached.

Everything ached, really.

She doubted she could move fast enough to cut the cord before it touched her. Doubted she had the energy to even lift
A Flaw in the Glass
.
 

And if she could fight this one off, there might be more coming.

A breath of mist rose from dark alien runes on the side of the box.

She licked her upper lip. “Go,” she breathed. “Go, Chukshene. Get away.”

“What the fuck do you think you're doing? Leave it!”

“I can't. It belonged to him.”

“What? Don't be an idiot!”

“It's Talek's,” she said firmly, her eyes narrowing as the cord inched closer. It angled this way and that, unwilling to go near the small container. Her eyes narrowed. “He guarded it for his whole fucking life. I won't leave it behind. Not now. Not here. I've been asking myself this past few days. What the fuck am I doing? There are nine of them, Chukshene. Told myself the chances are I won't be able to kill them all. That they'll kill me first. So I just couldn't figure why I came all this way. Began to think it was just because I didn't know what else to do. But it ain't that, is it? It's because of him. Because I failed him over and over. Just once I want to do what is right. And what's right is I protect that box for him. And then I find Raste. And his Bloody Nine. And I show that red-haired bastard what bloody really means. Nothing's going to stop me trying. So if I fail here, 'lock, it's because I'm dead. Ain't no other way. Not now. Not ever again.”

“Don't be a fool, Long-ear,” he hissed. There was something in his voice she couldn't recognise. “You don't know what you're fucking with. Leave it!”

“I'm not leaving it here. Not now.”

“It's not worth your fucking life!”

The cord reared like a hunting snake. If it had a mouth, it would be open. Fangs would drip venom.

Its tongue would lick the air, tasting her.

She felt a thousand jumbled wordless thoughts roar through her brain, each one riding on a glacier of fear. Couldn't pick them apart or make sense of them, so let her mind empty and held onto her fear.

She could trust her fear.

It would keep her alert.

Maybe even keep her alive.

The cord drifted sideways, searching for an angle of attack.

“Shit,” she breathed.

“Leave it, Nysta. Please. If that thing touches you. If it gets inside you...”

“It won't,” she said. Her voice sounded calm to her ears, but her heart was tearing a hole in her chest as she tasted the lie on her lips. “I'm quicker.”

“You're stupider!” He almost howled in frustration. “He wouldn't want this, Nysta! If he loved you, he wouldn't want this. He'd want you to live!”

“And I couldn't live knowing I've failed him again,” she hissed. “I'll have this box, Chukshene. It's mine.”

Her fingertips explored the frozen edge. A thin line of black smiled along the side of its lid, cracked open by a hair. The air released by the slit was icy cold.

Like the breath of a wyrm.

It should have awed her to see it opening, but the fear in her mind was dimming the elf's thoughts. The world around her danced in a dizzying spiral of sight and sound and nothing made any sense.

Except getting that box.

Holding it.

“Nysta,” Chukshene's voice was a strangled gasp. “Don't do that. Whatever you're doing, don't. Stop. Stop it!”

Unable to tell if he was talking about Talek's box, or the cord, she ignored him.

Breathed in.

Breathed out.

In.

Held.

Then, moving with lightning speed, her hand fisted around the grinning box and she snatched her arm back as fast as she could.

But not fast enough.

The cord struck.

Like a rattlesnake, it slashed through the air. Rapped hard across her knuckles and sank invisible fangs into her flesh.

As though realising this was its final chance, the cord drilled faster than the others. It squirmed against her skin, chewing desperately.

Biting.

Burning.

Screaming, Nysta wrenched her hand back, clutching at her wrist.

And the box flipped open with a loud crack that echoed across the hill.

A shriek of air blew past her head, the stink of magic so strong she thought her brain would burn. A roar, like the sound of a million screaming voices, punched into her brain through the front of her face. But it wasn't a scream of pain.

It was a scream of triumph. Joy.

And it made every hair on her body rise up in horror.

Simultaneously, the cord wrapped around her wrist like a vine. Its long length slapped her free hand away as it coiled up her arm on a lattice of pain. It felt like a sharp wire wrapped in acid.

She writhed in agony, screaming as the warlock burst into view and desperately tried to tear the box from her fingers or at least close the lid.

He was shouting, but she couldn't hear him through her own screams.

Terror flooded her mind.

One of her greatest fears had always been that of being eaten alive. Of worms squirming into her flesh while she screamed and screamed again.

So, as the cord burrowed beneath her skin, her mind exploded on fireworks of fear. “Get it out!” she screamed at him. “Get it the fuck out!”

“I'm trying!” he shouted, hands glowing brightly as magic burst from his fists. He chanted quickly, tearing at the bracer to pull it free and get to the cord. She let out another shriek of agony and her body twisted so sharply she thought her back might break.

And then Talek's box pulsed in her palm.

The roaring in her brain stopped suddenly as the thud of its pulse washed through her like a shockwave.

Nysta froze, eyes wide and mouth hanging slack as she stared down at the open box in her hand. Mist surrounded it and she found it easy to imagine hundreds of pairs of ancient eyes opening to peer into the darkest corners of her soul.

It pulsed again.

Her ears felt like they were stuffed with wool. Everything was far away. Except the pain.

Shuddering, and still reeling in agony as the cord convulsed inside her, she could do nothing but watch in disbelief as the dark mist drifted from the box and over the bleeding hole in her arm where the last few inches of cord was wriggling desperately into her flesh.

Chukshene gasped and snatched his hands away from her, terrified of the mist touching him.

A wave of iciness spread from the mist and into the wound. It moved slowly, gently. Like anaesthetic. Freezing the pain as it followed the trail left by the thin black cord.

As it swam into her, it numbed her hand.

Wrist.

Her forearm.

Then there was a moment when the two breeds of darkness touched. Her heart froze in her chest and it felt like two armies had paused inches from each other and were studying their ranks.

Neither moved.

She saw in her mind a thin cord of darkness faced with an unending ocean of shadows. And, from far away, she heard Gaket scream as the contents of Talek's box gave a low growl and stormed up her arm with the relentlessness of a tsunami, turning her skin as black as the night sky.

It felt like a river of squirming shadows pouring into her veins.

A river of worms from the heart of a void.

Her stomach heaved. She wanted to scream until her throat disintegrated, but paralysis stole even that from her. Her body was cold. Colder than she'd ever been.

This, she thought, is what it is to be poisoned. Expecting a slow death, the elf's eyes squeezed fresh tears and her mind raced between the fear of dying and the regret of not having avenged Talek's death.

The warlock watched helplessly and the words of power died on his lips as awe shattered his concentration. Never in his life had he seen such powerful magic. He looked at her with impossibly wide eyes and shook his head. “I'm sorry, Nysta. I can't stop it. Not now it's open. Fuck. I can't do anything for you. Nothing will work. I'm sorry. I really am.”

She fell back in the warlock's arms, drained of energy as lassitude and horror lapped her final dregs of energy.

And, as she slipped away, her last thought was firmly spoken if not through her lips then in her mind; “Ain't for you to dole out apologies, 'lock. I'm the one about to be idle.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Chukshene stared at the body of the elf still clutching tightly to the box. His emotions were muddled, and his face twitched from expression to expression. He seemed unable to decide where to put his hands.

He heard, carried on the wind, the long shriek of Gaket as the last of the cords died with Veil's blessing bleeding out of the elf's arm in oily drops of black ooze.

It was an agonised sound, torn from the very core of the creature's tattered soul and the warlock shuddered to hear it, knowing it was the last sound the King of Lichspawn would make.

The warlock found his eyes drawn to the town. The splotches of light as the buildings burned created flickering shadows and he squinted, trying to make out any sign of surviving Lichspawn.

Then the long wail came to an abrupt end, and Chukshene frowned.

Cocked his head.

The explosion which tore the town apart was something he didn't expect, and his eyes widened impossibly, drinking in the sight even as the blast rocked the ground. The thunderous sound punched his already punished eardrums and he slapped both hands over his ears in shock, his heart hammering furiously in his chest.

“What the-”

Fire raked the darkness and he watched as debris rained down both within and around the walls. Watched in fascinated horror as Spikewrist seemed to give a final gasp before dying.

What had caused the explosion, he couldn't guess. There was an eerie echo to it that made him uneasy, but there was not enough gold in all the world to offer him which would make him return to the town to investigate.

Instead, the warlock shivered and hoped whatever splinters of darkness might have survived were too weak to emerge. Heightened by fear, he thought he could hear a child's cry. But after rubbing his ears, figured it was just the wind dragging itself through the town and out past the disintegrated gates.

He could almost feel the ghosts of the dead townspeople shuffling out across the plain. Where they headed, he didn't want to know.

Imagined, too, that he could make out the black smudge of Gaket's damned soul writhing in the sated flames left crawling across the town's shredded corpse.

“Good riddance,” he muttered, turning away from the mournful sight. He shuddered again, but kept resolute in keeping his back to the town as though this simple act of defiance would keep him safe.