Quicksilver (Fae & Alchemy, #1)

by Callie Hart

He mindlessly slammed himself into me, grunting, and then he ripped his mouth away from my skin and roared like he was dying. No. Not like he was dying. Like he was being reborn.

🫠🫦🤤 ⚜️🫦👹😈

“I always know where you are, Little Osha.” Opening his eyes, he turned and looked at me. The smile developed a dangerous edge to it when he took me in.

🫠🫦🤤 ⚜️😈🫦❤️‍🔥🦋

“I would have gotten dressed,” I explained, “but there weren't actually any clothes in that bag you packed for me. I appreciate the sentiment, but four different throwing knives, a field dressing kit, and a bottle of whiskey might have been overkill. A clean pair of underwear and a toothbrush would have been nice.” This coaxed a laugh out of him. “Fair point. And noted. Only two knives and a hip flask next time. Plus underwear and a toothbrush.”

🫦🫠 ⚜️🦋

“When I imagine you, Little Osha, you're very rarely wearing clothes.”

🫠🫦🤤 ⚜️🫦👹😈🤤❤️‍🔥🦋

“No, I can’t read your thoughts,” he said, eyes darting up to mine for a split second. “I can hear you when you speak to me directly, though. That’s all.”

⚜️>🦋>>🧠✨

I pulled a very uncharitable face, trying to convey my displeasure at his presence with a grimace instead of words. If I knew Carrion, he understood my meaning perfectly well and didn’t give a fuck that I wasn't thrilled to see him. He produced a tin from the pocket of a very warm-looking coat and lit a cigarillo for himself. He offered me one, but I shook my head and launched another beaker at the rock. An herbal, rich smell soaked the frigid air. “What are we doing?” he asked. “What does it look like?” The beaker I lobbed this time didn't go as high up the rock face, but it still exploded into an impressive shower of broken glass. “Can I join in?” I rolled my eyes. “Great.” Gripping his cigarillo between his teeth, Carrion chose a fat, round-bottomed flask from the crate I'd dragged out here. He hurled the thing with all his might, and it arced pretty well before sailing down and exploding against the rocks. The resulting crash was one of the best ones yet. “Well, that felt pretty good,” he said, blowing out a thick cloud of smoke. “Wanna tell me why we're doing this?” “Destruction,” I replied. Carrion nodded, bobbing his head from side to side. “As good a reason as any. I like it.”

🦋🐲

“Evidently not. And that fucking quicksilver…” “Having trouble making it do its liquidy, rolling around thing?”

🦋🐲

“It can't be sentient,” he said dubiously. “Oh, ho, ho, it is. You wouldn't be saying that if you could hear what I can hear.” Carrion nodded, pulling on the cigarillo, the bright cherry flaring at its end. “Have you considered the possibility that you might be mad?”

🦋🐲

“Seems to me that if you can ask to be a liquid or a solid, you could ask it to be all kinds of things,” he said, popping the collar of his coat. I glared at him, my annoyance levels rising fast. Not Carrion Swift. He would not be the reason why I figured out how to accomplish this task. He'd never let me live it down. It was infuriating that I hadn't considered this for myself, though. “Are you gonna try it?” he asked, standing up a little straighter. “Can I watch?”

🦋🐲

“That looked painful,” Carrion said conversationally. He stood right next to me, holding onto the torch, his auburn hair turned copper-gold by the flames. “Can you back up a little?” I asked. “This might be a little easier without you breathing directly down my neck.” “I seem to recall you liked me breathing down your ne—” “If you dare finish that sentence, you can go and wait outside,” I snapped. “That's fair.” Carrion moved back a step, bowing graciously. “Though, if it seems like your mind’s being sucked out of your body, or you're in excruciating pain and can't let go of the quicksilver sword murder spikes, do I have your permission to tackle you to the ground?” That actually seemed like a prudent plan. “You do.” “Excellent.”

🦋🐲

“You’re making a weird face,” Carrion whispered loudly. “Are you talking to it?” “Yes, I'm talking to it. What do you think I'm doing?” “I don't know. You look constipated.” “Shh!” I closed my eyes so I could block him out.

🦋🐲

“Are you seeing this, Swift?” I demanded. “Hmm? Oh, you figured it out. Cool. Did you give it a stern talking to?” He pushed away from the table and came to watch as over five hundred pieces of deconstructed sword started to drop to the floor. “No, I promised it something that it wanted.” “Ahh, bribery. I should have thought of that.” He ducked down and helped pick up the pieces of metal. We'd gathered a small amount of them when another voice spoke behind us, and I nearly fell on my ass from the shock. “If you let me, I think I can speed up that process.” “Gods alive!” I spun around, my pulse beating everywhere, and found the warrior sitting in an armchair by the fire. “Could have warned me we weren't alone anymore,” I hissed at Carrion. “Don't get shitty with me. I tried to tell you, and you told me to shush. You were very rude.”

🦋🐲🐿️

Carrion was cooking something in a pot over the fire, his mouth drawn into a flat line. He saw me and pointed at Lorreth, scowling. “These fuckers are all cheats.” Lorreth laughed heartily, extending his hand. The dagger he'd just imbedded into the tree trunk dislodged itself and whipped backward, landing in his palm hilt-first. “And you are a sore loser,” he said. “He just took me for eleven chits. That's half of my money.” “You can't even spend them here, Carrion,” I reminded him. “It's not about that. It's about being fucking tricksy. We had a gentleman's bet. We were supposed to try and hit the target as many times as we could in a row. The person who held the longest streak won.” “And? How has he tricked you?” I tried not to smile. “And I did the honorable thing and let him go first.” “And?” “And he hasn't missed once! I asked him if he'd played this game before, and he said no,” Carrion growled in an accusatory tone. “I haven't played before.” Lorreth flicked his wrist, and the dagger shot from his palm, propelled through the air at a ferocious velocity. The dagger's handle juddered when the blade bit into the tree trunk. “When I throw this thing, it isn’t a game. I’m usually throwing it at a vampire's head. It pays not to miss under those conditions.” Carrion's cheeks were mottled red with annoyance. “How the fuck was I supposed to beat him when he's some kind of killing machine?” I snorted. “How many times has he hit the tree?” It was cruel to ask, but it was a rar...

🦋🐲🐿️

By righteous hands, deliverance of the unrighteous dead.

🦋✍🏼>>🌬️

The sword lay across Lorreth's lap. He rested a hand on the hilt, as, still in complete awe of the beauty lighting up the heavens, he began to sing. To all those who’ll listen or haven’t been told, of the day the last drake woke and rose from the cold. Of the young warrior who came veiled in shadows and blood to defeat the foul creature and save those he could. Of the Fisher King, and the wolves at his back, who came howling in the night, together, a pack. The frost blessed the morning. The warriors faced their fate. And thus begins our tale, The Ballad of Ajun Gate.

🐿️🎼📜⚜️🚪🐺🐉 🚪- Ajun Gate

The drake, he did stir, Old Omnamshacry observing the world through ink-black, mad eyes. The drinkers of night pledged him death and decay. That he’d feast on his foes and the flesh he did flay. So long as he rose and he joined them in war, against the Fae who protected the sacred, blessed ore. With glittering sharp scales of gold and of red, the drake, he consented, and bidden, he fed. The Fae in their towers stood mighty. Stood proud. But soon they were scattered, their fear shouted loud. Dark wings shaded mountain and blotted the sun. And mad old ’Shacry, he watched them all run. The wolves scaled the summit with blades in their hands. The drake saw them coming, and knew where they’d stand So there he did meet them, and there they did clash. And Old Mad ’Shacry dressed the mountain in ash. His fire ran in rivers. It melted the snow. There was no escaping the glowing hot flow. With teeth bared and dripping, the drake trapped the Fae, laughing with cruelty above the warriors he’d slay. But the wolves held their ground, all dauntless and brave, determined to send Old ’Shacry to his grave. Swift came the chant, then, so all close could hear. A war cry of old that strengthened those near. The wolves ran the charge and at the head of the swell came the proud Fisher King bearing Nimerelle. The drake saw his courage and was filled with a rage the likes of which unseen in more than an age. But the king held his nerve and raised up his sword, and the wolves showed...

🐿️🎼📜⚜️🚪🐺🐉

“It's fucking outrageous that he can sing, too.” Carrion had woken up and was stood to my right, arms folded across his chest, balefully regarding Lorreth. “That was nice, though. Messed up, but nice.”

🐲>>🐿️🎼

“Why do you all look like you've collectively shit yourselves?” Carrion demanded.

🐲>>🦋🐿️⚜️

“Would someone mind telling me what the fuck's going on?” Carrion's ultra-polite tone promised violence if someone didn't explain and quickly.

🐲>>🦋🐿️⚜️

Not Danya's sword, the quicksilver hissed. We are reforged. New unto this place. You do not claim us, Lorreth of the Broken Spires. We claim you.

🌬️>>🐿️

Avisiéth. The Unsung Song. Redemption's Dawn.”

🌬️

Fisher let out a surprising whoop, joy shining from his face as he followed the column of energy upward into the heavens. “Angel's breath, brother!” he hollered. “Fucking angel's breath!”

🫠🫦🤤🥹 ⚜️😁🎉>>🐿️🌬️

Fisher rested his chin on top of his forearms and sighed. “What?” I whispered. He thought for a moment, appearing to decide whether he'd answer the question. Then he said, “I was wrong, y’know. You are a good thief.” “What have I stolen?” But he smiled a small, sad smile, slowly shaking his head.

🥺🫠🥹 ⚜️❤️‍🔥🦋

“I’m Saeris. I’m an Alchemist. I—” We know who she is, the quicksilver hissed. She is the dawn. She is the moon. She is the sky. She is oxygen in our lungs.

🥺🫠 🪙⚜️🧠❤️‍🔥🦋

We are him. He is us. We cannot leave. We will die.” “You’ll die? Or Kingfisher?” “All of us,” the quicksilver emphasized. “We are one thing. One weapon.”

🪙🧠⚜️>>🦋

“We were forged hundreds of years ago. We cannot be unmade.”

🪙🧠⚜️>>🦋

“We gave him his life. A boy. Just a boy. He was young when he entered our pool. He should not have survived it. But he was strong, and the grand halls of the universe rang aloud with his purpose. We permitted him to live so that he might fulfill that purpose. We bound ourselves to him that he might survive.” “And…there’s no other way? For him to live without…” “This dye was cast centuries ago. We accepted our fate, Alchemist. All of us did.”

🪙🧠⚜️📜>>🦋

“Swear it.” “A promise doesn't bind me the way it binds you.” “I know. But humans still make promises to each other, even though they can be broken, don’t they? Because they trust the other to honor their word.” “Yes.” “Then swear, Little Osha, and I’ll trust you.”

🥺🫠 ⚜️❤️‍🔥🦋

Its pommel was embellished with a crescent moon, the horns of the crescent so close that they almost touched to form a whole circle. Script writing flowed around the hilt, down over the cross guard, and spilled along the edge of the blade, written in Old Fae.

⛏️

Fisher turned and held out the sword to me. “My father’s bones rest somewhere in Zilvaren. His sword spent the past millennia there, which...” He paused, considering the sword. “Which makes it more Zilvaren than Yvelian now, I think.”

🥺🫠 ⚜️⛏️❤️‍🔥🦋

“Be unrelenting and unmerciful in the face of the wicked dead,” Fisher said.

🥺🫠🫦 ⚜️❤️‍🔥🦋⛏️💪🏼

Ren laid a steadying hand on my shoulder. “And if you should find soul sundered from flesh, order a drink for us at the first tavern you come across in the afterlife. We’ll settle the tab when we get there.”

🥺🫠🫦 🎠❤️‍🔥🦋⛏️💪🏼

“We're bound by the rules of war,” Fisher said. “We can’t use magic to attack or affect an enemy until that enemy has breached our border. And anyway, our magic doesn't work on Sanasrothian soil. Fae magic needs light and life to survive. And there's nothing on their side of the river but death, darkness, and decay. Our lands are divided directly down the centerline of the Darn.

⚜️>🦋>>📑✨⛩️

He grinned like a madman, eyes lit up, reflecting filaments of white light as he turned to watch the spider web of power jumping from point to point amidst the melee, destroying everything it touched and turning Malcolm's army into pillars of ash. Fisher threw back his head and howled. Ren joined him, and slowly, all across the rain-soaked camp, more voices joined them. Wolves all, singing out their victory. The baying shouts were still going when Fisher speared Nimerelle tip-down into the dirty snow, cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed so loudly that his cry seemed to shake the very heavens. “Lorreth of the Broken Spires! Lorreth of The Darn!”

🫠🫦🤤 ⚜️💪🏼😏🎉🥹🐺🎠❤️‍🔥🐿️🌬️💪🏼✨

Taladaius,”

🦇

“She can't come home now,” Ren whispered in a broken voice. “She's his.” I glanced between the males, my heart skipping beats left, right and center. “What do you mean, she's his?” “It means she’s enthralled to him,” Fisher said.

🎠⚜️>🦋>>🧛🏻‍♂️😵‍💫🍯

“Enthrall?

😵‍💫

“Careful, Renfis. I am Lord of Midnight to you.

🦇>>🎠

“WELL, HE CAN'T HAVE HER!” Fisher's declaration boomed over the Darn; it could probably be heard in the bowels of Ammontraíeth. The terror that rolled off him hit me like a slap to the face.

🫠🫦🤤 ⚜️😟😤🤬👹👿💪🏼❤️‍🔥🦋>>🦇>🧛🏻‍♂️

“Malcolm was the first to be affected by the blood curse. The very first. When Rurik Daianthus, the last Yvelian king, discovered the cure, Malcolm was one of the few who chose to remain vampires. Over the centuries, the others who had accepted their curse were systematically killed off until only Malcolm remained. There were whispers that Malcolm ingested their power somehow. He is millennia old, undying, never aging. Every year he survives, he grows in strength and capability. His venom is potent beyond imagination. When one of his lords bites a victim, they can drink and sate their thirst without killing. If they bite the same human a number of times, eventually they become enthralled—”

🎠>🦋>>📜🧛🏻‍♂️✨🩸🪄 🧝🏻‍♂️- Rurik Daianthus

“The victim becomes bound to the vampire who bit them,” Lorreth said, stepping in. “Mindlessly devoted to their needs. They'll feed and fuck their master without a single thought for themselves. Inevitably, their masters grow bored and drain them, and then their victim dies. Three days later, they rise from wherever they've been discarded and become the feeders you've seen on the river.”

🐿️>🦋>>📜🧛🏻‍♂️😵‍💫✨

“Holy fucking gods,” Ren uttered. “It took her fucking hand.” “Maybe she'll stop punching people in the face now.” There wasn't a scrap of sympathy in Fisher's voice.

🫠🫦🤤 🎠🤯⚜️😒

Fisher quietly came forward and knelt at my feet. His halo of dark hair was all over the place, his skin pale in the flickering torchlight. His eyes were steady, though. They ran me through as he withdrew Nimerelle and closed his fist around her edge. When he placed his hand against my chest, he tapped his index finger and middle finger against my sternum, in time with my racing heart. Giving me a very tired, very sad smile, he said, “I give you my blood in thanks, Saeris Fane.”

🥺🫠 ⚜️🧎🏻‍♂️‍➡️🩸🗡️❤️‍🔥🦋

Ren assessed the scene, shot me a wink, and said, “Don't you worry, Saeris. You're perfect right where you are.”

🥹☺️ 🎠😉❤️‍🔥🦋

Carrion was carrying a sword and a potted plant under his arm, still wearing his thick coat with the coarse fur over its wide collar. “I found him up at the forge,” Lorreth said, stepping through the gate behind him. “He was still asleep.” “Hey, don't say it like that!” Swift shot him a wounded look. “We had a very long night, y'know.” “You slept through a battle,” Lorreth said. “And I'm a very heavy sleeper!” “What's with the plant?” Ren asked. Carrion shrugged. “I don’t know, I liked the look of it. It was the only green thing for a mile amongst all that white. I figured it deserved an easy life if it had made it this far growing out of a snowbank. Plus, my tent was so bare. It needed a little cheering up.” “For fuck's sake. This is ridiculous.” Danya rose from her chair. “I can't spend another minute in here with scatterbrained humans. Just because they're...pretty...” She wobbled, her eyes glazing over. Tucking her chin, she reached for the edge of the table, but her fingers found nothing but air. “Lorreth?” Fisher said quietly. “Fuck, do I have to?” “Please?” Lorreth grumbled as he crossed the dining room in four long strides and caught Danya right as she fainted. He did not look pleased to be holding the female in his arms, and I couldn't say I blamed him. “She's lost a lot of blood,” Fisher sighed. “Come on. We'll take her to the healer.”

🐲🐿️⚜️🦋🎠👩🏼‍🦳

As soon as we were alone, Carrion threw off his coat and pointed emphatically at the door, after the Fae who had just exited through it. “Did you hear that?” he said. “What?” “That smoking hot blonde said I was pretty.” “Gods alive, Carrion. Do not tell me you have a thing for Danya. She’s fucking awful.” “Eh.” He shot me a rakish grin. “I love a girl with a sharp tongue and a bad attitude. Kinda makes my dick hard.”

🐲🦋

Come here and pump these bellows.” He looked affronted. “What, am I your slave now?”

🦋🐲

“Y'know, I thought it was weird when he bribed me to take a bath with those boots. I asked one of the sprites who came to bathe me. Y'know, one of the water sprites with the giant...” He mimed cupping a pair of sizable breasts on his own chest. “I asked her why they were trying to flay three layers of my skin off with that weird moss, and they said it was special. They said Fae who liked to bedhop were fond of it ’cause it eradicated the scents of their other partners. I couldn't think of why Fisher would care if I smelled like those triplets who just started working at Kala's—” “Gods, you're incorrigible.” He waggled his eyebrows. “But then, I realized that it was you. He didn't want me smelling like you.”

🦋🐲

A secret... I stopped talking, canting my head to one side. I had heard that, right? The quicksilver had just spoken? “What?” I asked out loud. “I said,” Carrion began, but I held my finger to my lips, glaring at him, then pointed to the crucible. He got it immediately and shut his mouth.

🐲🦋🪙

“I just love it when you disappear into tense conversations with creepy portal metal,” Carrion quipped, hoisting himself up to sit on the bench. “It's fascinating watching you do all of those facial gymnastics.” “Just a moment, Carrion,” I whispered.

🦋🐲