Chapter Thirty-One
We leave the castle library, and Darrius heads down to the enclosure where he’s been locked away in the past while I make a quick detour to change out of my dress.
I put on a gorgeous pair of black-and-gold leathers that Darrius had made for me, sewn from similar spelled fabric as my feast dress, which should provide a layer of warmth as well as protection.
A hidden sheath for my dagger is sewn into the lower back so I can reach for it comfortably with my right hand.
Lastly, I braid my hair back so it doesn’t get tangled in flight.
I run into Ani on the way out in the courtyard, where she’s talking to the head of the kingsguard.
I hurry over to her, and she eyes my gear. “Do you have training?” she asks, curious.
“No, Raz is sick. I’m going to see if there’s anything I can do.”
“Oh, no, I’m so sorry.” Ani wraps her arm around me in an awkward sideways hug that’s so her it makes me smile.
After a moment, she brightens, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a vial of green powder.
“This is dragon’s bloom. You won’t believe who came up with the idea.
Nuadar. The man’s a genius. It has similar properties to the sedative for my brother’s beast.”
Frowning, I take the vial. Just because I don’t like the beastmaster doesn’t mean he’s not good at his job. “What does it do?”
“From our initial tests, it acts as a blocker and counteracts infection in close quarters. It might make you sleepy. I don’t know that you’ll need it, but it might be worth trying. How are you getting there? Portal?”
“Too unstable.” I bite my lip. “Dare’s taking me.”
Her brows draw together. “How . . . oh.”
“I know,” I say softly.
“Sura . . .” Her worry for my safety is evident.
I squeeze her wrist. “I trust him, Ani. He won’t let me get hurt.”
She nods, but the worry in her eyes doesn’t dissipate.
When I get to the paddock, Darrius is pacing back and forth. He looks grim, worry lining his solemn face. “We don’t have to do this,” I tell him.
“We do. I just don’t want any harm to befall you, on my back or being exposed to Razulek.”
“You won’t, and don’t worry,” I say, digging into my pocket for the vial. “Ani has been working on a prevention of sorts. She says it should inhibit infection if we have to get close.”
“That’s good.”
I watch as he sheds his outer layers of clothing, my pulse automatically beating quicker as his honed physique is revealed inch by inch. No matter how many times I see him, his utter perfection doesn’t fail to take my breath away.
He smirks when he catches me. “See something you like, Starbright?”
“Always.”
The unsealed bond between us flares. “Later, when we return,” he growls, “I am going to edge you until you scream. Now step back.”
Groaning at his wicked promise, I do as he says and watch in awe as he falls to his knees and his body shifts from man to manticore, bones snapping and cracking, fur and wings sprouting, and body quadrupling in mass.
Within seconds, the manticore pads toward me, fangs on display and scorpion tail hovering menacingly.
He butts my stomach with his huge head, and I run my fingers through his mane.
“Mate.” The rumble is almost a purr.
“I’ve missed you. Are you sure you’re up for this?” I ask him, knowing that despite everything, he and Darrius are two separate beings.
“Yes,” he growls.
He lowers down onto his massive front paws tipped with razor-sharp talons and then bends a gold-veined carmine wing so that I can climb onto his broad, muscular back.
I settle myself on the velvety section behind the base of his mane, hooking my legs under the tendons connecting to his wings for purchase.
Without a saddle, I have to use my muscles to stay in place—thank the stars for my training with Karan? on the larger horses.
It’s not the same as riding on Razulek, either, with his bumpy ridges—the manticore’s fur is slippery and soft.
Shifting to get comfortable, I wind my hands in his mane as he takes us outside, and then with a great heave and a beat of his powerful wings, we are airborne.
I’m holding him so tightly that I might strangle him, and as we rise quickly into the air, I press my body down onto his, clinging like a spider monkey.
It’s only after a few minutes that I’m brave enough to sit up and watch the realm of Everlea fly by below.
We veer south from Verisia, and I catch sight of the rolling plains of Rakh and then Chamros, heading toward the huge rise of the Barrin Mountains.
From the maps I’ve seen in the library, Nyriell and Droon are on the other side.
Those are also unstable areas for jādū, so it doesn’t surprise me that we can’t portal there directly.
When we had visited the azdahas, a portal was only viable in the lower mountain ranges near Deadman’s Canyon for similar reasons.
“This is amazing,” I shout out loud, loving the wind blowing into my face and the sun’s radiance warming me.
I hold my hands wide and close my eyes. The manticore gives a rumble of approval that I feel through my legs, each mighty beat of his wings propelling us forward at impossible speeds.
When we begin to descend to the steep side of the highest mountain range, I hold tight again until we’re on a ledge on the outside of a small cave.
I smell the same necrosis as the basilisk, even before I dismount.
“Should we take this?” I ask Dare, holding up the vial. “Just in case?”
He sniffs the bottle and bares his teeth.
I put a tiny bit of the green powder on my tongue, wincing at the bitter taste, and then scoop a little into the cap for him.
The manticore snarls but eventually sticks out his tongue, a whine rumbling from him as he swallows.
Then we make our way into the cave. Light engulfs my palms as we press into the shadows.
Razulek is at the very back, curled into a tight ball.
He doesn’t look good, and the smell oozing from his pores is foul.
There’s no doubt he’s infected, and the closer I get, the more I can see the festering blisters on his hide.
Fuck. How long has he been like this? And why hadn’t he told me?
I barely suppress a sob as I inch closer.
A feral beast, even a friend, can be dangerous, especially when in pain.
My magic will protect me, but I don’t want to hurt him more.
“Raz?” I whisper. “It’s Sura.”
One eye cracks open and it’s covered in a dark purple film. I shift toward him and the manticore growls, nudging me back in warning, his tail flicking back and forth in aggravation.
“It’s all right. He won’t hurt me. I have to touch him for this to work. Can you shift back? It might be easier for both of us.”
He shakes his head, his paralysis barb at the ready. I don’t have time to argue. Perhaps he thinks he can protect us better in this form.
The azdaha doesn’t even move as I get close enough to touch his unnaturally clammy snout. I can sense Dare’s displeasure from his constant grumbling, but I can’t let him distract me. Normally Raz is warm to the touch, but now his hide is dry, with patchy, flaking scales.
“I’m going to try to heal you, old friend. Just don’t roast or bite me, please.”
Although I’m perilously close to his teeth, I press a hand gently to his snout and reach for my magic, pushing into the mystical connection I have with him.
His akasha is dull, making me think that he’s close to the end.
No, no, no. I send my healing magic into him, and he rears backward, crashing into the top of the cave and causing a small rockfall.
He screams in pain, and I clap my hand over my ears.
“Stay,” I shout to the manticore, who is in an aggressive lunge position, talons out and barbed tail ready to strike. “Stop, Dare! Darrius, if you’re in there, trust me.” He doesn’t stop snarling, but at least he doesn’t come any closer. “Thank you.”
I turn my attention to the azdaha and use my magic, ribbons of light spooling out of me to band around Razulek’s mouth and more to keep his limbs, wings, and tail in place.
He thrashes, looking at me with baleful, glassy eyes that don’t recognize me.
It might seem inhumane, but he’ll only hurt himself . . . and me.
“I’m sorry, Raz. It’s going to hurt before you can heal. We have to burn the rot out.”
I begin. He screams and screams, struggling against my magical hold as I weep, my corpus magic roaring through him and eradicating the rot with its light. As I study the spidery purple veins in my mind’s eye, I frown.
I am even more convinced that the rot is Fero, latching on to the living like a leech.
Then when the host eventually dies, would it take over and be reanimated by a corpus magi?
Sands, what if he is building an army of revenants?
It makes sense that he would target the magical creatures first, then—they are the most powerful. Next would be people . . .
Dear gods . . .
My heart drops as I now consider if the Scavs were part of the army stationed near the border of Oryndhr that Razulek had mentioned.
They had to be. Because with an innumerable brigade of Scavs at his beck and call, Fero would have an inexhaustible supply of soldiers to invade Everlea.
He’d need only one death magi to turn them . . . one proficient in necromancy.
The so-called oracle.
I blink, my mind racing. When I’d been in Kaldari, the oracle had been linked to the Scavs, too, as well as the mercenaries in Coban.
What if it was a disgruntled Everlean magi who wanted to overthrow Darrius?
A shiver runs through me as the dots start to connect.
Nuadar is a dominant corpus magi and he has a particularly strong numen for toxins, which explains the serum he made to weaken the manticore.
He could have just as easily made a contaminant from the rot.