"Do you know what was in it, Nysta? In the box, I mean? Even if you don't know exactly, maybe you've been told something by whoever gave it to you?"
Her mouth was dry. So dry it felt like her tongue might crack open.
She'd felt different when she first woke, but that feeling was gone. She felt fine now. Maybe a little more than fine. She didn't hurt as much as she expected to hurt.
Thinking back to when the box had opened, all she could remember was the hideous sensation of a river of slick worms sliding up her arm from the box's icy heart. Gnawing through her flesh.
She didn't know what to tell him. A part of her told her to keep her mouth shut. To say nothing. He was a mage, even if he called himself a warlock.
How could she think about trusting someone like him?
But another part, a scared piece of her soul, worried at what had invaded her. What was going to happen to her? Should she be afraid?
Whatever it was inside Talek's box, it was something only a mage might have any understanding of. And she didn't know any mages she could trust with it.
Sighing, she shook her head and decided to take a chance. "No fucking idea. It was Talek's. Something his family protected since the Godwars. Even he didn't really know what it was. Just figured it was some kind of puzzle box."
He drew the box from one of his pockets and held it in his palm. Looked at it with a mage's curiosity, a frown pulling at his brow. "You know, since dragging you here, I've been looking at it. I can't quite understand it. You know what I find more strange than anything else?"
"Give it to me," she demanded firmly. Reached for it, but he pulled away from her.
"It doesn't open. You say it might have been a puzzle box, but it's not. There's no trick to it. It's a box not meant to be opened by anyone less than a mage. Maybe more than one. In any case, a good mage. Better than any I know. And yet, it opened for you." He traced his fingers along the crisp alien runes. "And what's this writing? I've never seen anything like it. It's in no language I've ever seen, and I've spent years in the Library of Hatejaw. I've studied goblin, ork, dwarf and elf writing. Seen languages you don't even know exist. Since before the Gods arrived. And this is nothing like any of them. Where did Talek's family get this? Do you know? And how did you open it?"
"It's mine," the elf hissed, overwhelmed by the speed at which the warlock shot his questions at her clouded mind. She lunged at him, but the pain in her side made her flinch back and let out an involuntary moan. "Give it to me, you bastard! Or I swear, I'll cut it from your corpse!"
He eyed her calmly, apparently unmoved by her threat.
For a moment, she thought he'd resist. Even thought he might try casting something. She was weak enough he might succeed. She wasn't sure she could slit his throat before he finished speaking the words of a spell.
Instead, he shook his head and casually tossed it to her. It bounced once in the moist earth and came to a rest near her hand.
The elf snatched it with a snarl and stuffed it quickly into her jacket.
"I know I don't look very trustworthy," he said. "But I'm not a thief, Nysta. Believe it or not, I was just trying to help."
"Sure," she scowled.
"Remember this, Nysta. Whatever was in that box, I didn't save you from it," he said, keeping her gaze. "If I were you, I'd take it to Doom's Reach. Maybe even Godsfall. Give it to the mages. I know you don't want to, but it's too powerful for you. It should be studied. You need to make sure that whatever it was, it's not still inside you. I don't know how, but that thing is important. Too important for you to run around carrying in your dirty little jacket."
"Fuck you, spellslinger," she growled. "It's mine. You can't have it."
"I don't want it. Believe me, Nysta. I really don't. Even knowing it's empty, it still gives me the creeps. There's something about it which doesn't belong in this world. And it was clearly made to contain something very fucking powerful. Whatever that was, it got into you and wrung the life from that Lichspawn shit. And if Gaket was right, his darkness was a gift from Veil. Yours strangled it. Then spat it all out of you like dust." He licked his lips and leaned forward, almost desperate to get through to her. "Whatever it was, it did that. And that should frighten you to death. Scares me to the point where it's a good thing I have an empty bladder or I'd have pissed all over you by now."
Cold rage cut through her fear.
She was convinced in that moment that he was just saying it so he could take it from her.
"I don't give a fuck what it was, Chukshene. You said it yourself. It's gone. Faded away. And I've got other shit on my mind. Like how Raste is getting away. He's halfway to fucking Grimwood Creek by now and that means he's almost out of my reach. And I ain't about to let that happen." The elf felt a surge of rage hotter than anything she'd ever felt. Her eyes felt like they were glowing with hate. She didn't want to think about the box. Or about shadows invading her body. Didn't want to know. Not yet. Time for that later. She let hate drive those thoughts away and fill her instead with the driving need for vengeance. "I failed Talek too many times in my life. No more. Never again. I'll find Raste. And I'll have his fucking head!"
"You're the most stubborn woman I've ever known, Long-ear. And that's really saying something. Did I ever tell you about my wife? One of them. Well, either of them. Okay, let's not start that again. Let's just agree you're stubborn." He waved his hands in annoyance. "You know, you might not believe it, but I do kind of give a shit about you. Not much, I admit. It's just a little shit. Like, one that squeezes out your ass, but it's not quite a whole shit? Just a little fucking ball of shit? You know the kind. But it's enough of a shit to care about whether some fucking eldritch thing from the Shadowed Halls eats you from the inside out or not. So I'm telling you, you should get help. Seriously. Not from someone like me. My magic doesn't run that way. A mage, though. A real one. I might even know a few who'd help."
A flash of fear and anger shot through her as she thought of spellslingers. A mage had crippled Talek. It was a mage who had ruined any chance at happiness she had.
"Don't talk to me about mages, Chukshene," she said through her teeth. "Not if you want to keep your tongue inside your head."
The warlock tapped his book in frustration. "I know you don't like us, Nysta. I know why. And I think you've got good fucking reason not to. But it was a Caspiellan who torched your husband. Not a Fnord. There's a big fucking difference. And you should learn that difference quickly, because your life might depend on it. Honestly, if it's still inside you, it could do worse than fucking kill you. You need to be sure it's gone. You need to be examined."
She struggled to her feet, feeling the stiffness in her legs give way to the pain of throbbing wounds. "Whatever," she grunted. Rolled her shoulders. Began tightening the bracer on her arm and checking her weapons.
"What the fuck are you doing?" The warlock shot her an incredulous look.
"Taking your advice, 'lock." She started limping south, towards the treeline. "I'm checking myself out."
***
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