The Queen of Stone_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [75]
The basilisk raised its head and grunted. Thorn froze, and the strangeness of the experience washed over her. She couldn’t actually see the creature. She didn’t know if its deadly eyes were exposed. But she could feel its motion, the shifting of displaced air as it moved its blunt, wedge-shaped head. When she tried to think about the scene, it collapsed. It was as Steel had said—her subconscious mind understood her senses. She just had to accept it.
The beast shifted against the floor but didn’t rise to its feet. Thorn slowly removed the sphere from her cloak, and as she did so the basilisk lowered its head. She felt a slight pang as she raised the stiletto. She’d killed people before in the service of Breland—more than she cared to remember. This was a dumb brute, just a strange sort of animal. Yet it reminded her of Boros, the hound she’d had as a child. When her father was off to war, Nyrielle and her brother Nandon had spent most of their nights curled up with Boros. The basilisk wasn’t an enemy soldier or spy; it was a loyal beast protecting its mistress as she slept, as Boros had watched over her.
But this wouldn’t be the first innocent that she’d killed, man or beast—and it wouldn’t be the last. Thorn hurled the knife, hoping to hit one of the creature’s deadly eyes. Before the blade struck its target, she dashed the glass globe to the floor. The stiletto pierced the thick hide of the beast and it rose to its feet, thrashing its tail and bellowing with rage. It roared, but no sound echoed through the room.
The shattered sphere was a product of the master alchemists of Zilargo. The fluid was atomized, spreading its effect into the air when it was released. In this case, the mystical gas absorbed all sound in the area, lasting a few minutes before dispersing. It would have been useful when dealing with the harpies, but even if she’d had the sphere at hand, Thorn would have been hard-pressed to explain how Nyrielle Tam came to possess such a thing.
The basilisk was loping toward Thorn. She could feel the vibrations as its eight legs padded against the floor, and though she couldn’t see its expression, she could imagine saliva dripping from its jaws. As soon as she felt the hot breath of the beast, Thorn leaped into the air. She brushed against the rough scales of the basilisk, and even though she heard no sound, she felt its teeth click together, just missing the hem of her cloak. By then she’d reached the apex of her jump and began to fall.
Thorn held out her hands, and Ghyrryn’s long axe shimmered into existence, the silver spear extending from the head. Locking her hands around the haft, she drove the spear through the spine of the basilisk, bringing her full weight and the velocity of the fall to the blow. The beast jerked and spun, but six of its legs weren’t moving; the battle was almost done. The convulsions threw Thorn to the side, but she kept her hands locked around the spear haft and pulled it with her. One blow with the crescent axe was all it took to end the struggles of the crippled basilisk. It shuddered for a moment, and then lay still.
Thorn could smell the creature’s blood as it spread across the floor. It would have chewed off her limbs if she’d given it the chance, but the image of Boros still lingered in her mind.
The mystical gas absorbed all sound as she crept forward, but this was a handicap. Thorn couldn’t hear anything stirring in the room ahead of her. She slid along the edge of the wall until she reached the open arch. Thorn still found it difficult to trust her newfound senses; it seemed like madness, as if she were simply guessing what lay ahead of her. But her instincts told her that a small room lay beyond the archway … and that Sheshka was stretched across a warm, round bed. She caught no scent of feathers or silk in the air, just stone, sand, and coals. And Sheshka wasn’t alone. The smaller basilisk Thorn had seen at the meeting was curled up at her feet.
A thought sent the axe back into Thorn’s glove. She drew Steel, letting her thumb trace a circle on the hilt.
The effect