Page 17 of Quicksilver

The sword was old. I felt its age on the air somehow—a prickle of energy that spoke of hidden, ancient places.

“Donottouch that sword!” Harron repeated. He panicked, rushing toward me, about to hit the steps. He'd given up swatting at the filaments of silver spreading out over his chest, slowly rising up toward his throat.

If he made it to the top of the steps, I was done for. Ignoring the pain and my darkening vision, I sank back onto my heels and turned my back to the blade, resting my wrists against the ancient weapon's edge. I expected it to be dull—I somehowknewthat it hadn't been touched by another living creature in centuries—but I hissed in surprise when I lifted upward, and the thing cut through the ties at my wrists like a hot knife through butter.

“Saeris,no!”

Harron almost had me. I twisted, releasing an ungodly scream ashissword tipped forward and slid free from my stomach, clattering to the ground. I felt it then: the loosening at the very center of me, as if something fundamental had come undone. There was no putting me back together now.‘Let's be done with it, then,’a small voice whispered in the back of my quietening mind. I grabbed the old sword by the hilt, a bolt of energy firing up both arms as I drew it from the stone and turned it on Harron.

I wheezed out eight words, knowing they'd be my last, enjoying the stupidity of them. “This is the part where...youscream...Captain.” And then I swung with all my might.

The sword sliced into Harron's shoulder, cutting right through his oiled leather breastplate like it wasn't even there, leaving a bright red line of blood in its wake. Harron's bark of pain echoed around the vaulted ceiling. The wound wasn't enough to kill him, but I'd certainly hurt him. He came at me, pressing a hand to his chest to stem his own flow of blood. Iassumed he would grab me again, but this time, he lunged for the blade, the whites of his eyes showing.

“Put it back! You've got to put it back!”

It was too late for that. A song couldn't be unsung. The sword was free, and every part of me knew that it wasn't going back into...

Into...

I was sinking.

The ground that I had assumed was solid stone beneath my feet was nothing of the sort. Harron's blade had melted into a respectable amount of liquid metal, but the ground at my feet...thepoolat my feet...was more silver than I had ever seen in my life, and it was hissing and spitting like an angry cat. It hadn't been like this a moment ago. It had been solid. Now, it was softening by the second. The roiling mass of it was already up to my ankles.

I couldn't pull my boots free. The surface of the silver pool shone in the dim light of the hall, emitting its own sort of light. With my feet stuck in place, Harron could have ended me once and for all, but the thin threads of silver that had been his dagger had now reached the collar of his breastplate and were greedily climbing up his throat.

His skin was white as ash. “Gods,” he breathed. “It's so...”But he didn't finish his sentence. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he began to shake.

The pool of silver I stood in rose at an alarming rate. Or was it just getting deeper? I couldn't tell the difference. My thoughts were so scattered, none of them making sense. This was the blood loss. It had to be. I'd die soon enough, and then it would all be over.

Hayden. Hayden would be...

The queen would forget.

They would be safe.

All of them would be...

My eyelids were so heavy. Ten feet away, at the base of the steps, Harron cursed, thrashing against an invisible foe. I would leave him to his private war. It was time for me to sleep. I—

The liquid metal erupted underneath me, the silver slopping over the sides of what was now clearly a circular pool. Freed from its hold and with nothing to keep me up any longer, I toppled sideways onto the stone steps, a snapping sensation jolting me, though I mercifully felt no pain.

My vision was going at last. Blackness crept in, rolling before my eyes like a midnight fog. Only it wasn’t a fog. It was something else. It was…

Death.

The bastard had come to claim me in person.

Emerging from the silver, the huge figure rose up from the pool as if ascending from the very depths of hell itself. Broad shoulders. Wet, shoulder-length black hair. Tall. Taller than any other man I'd ever seen. His eyes shone an iridescent, shimmering green, the pupil of the right eye rimmed by the same shining metallic silver that ran in ribbons from the black leather armor that covered his chest and arms.

He towered over me, his lips pulled back into a snarl, revealing gleaming white teeth and sharp canines. In his hand, he held a monstrous sword forged out of a black metal that vibrated with a tempestuous energy that sang in the marrow of my bones. He raised the sword, about to bring it down and cleave me in two, but then his quick eyes landed on the ancient swordIwas still holding and he froze, arm raised above his head.

“Graceless gods,” he hissed. “What's this? A fucking joke?”

“Die!” Harron bellowed. “I willnot!Take your lies and your serpent tongue. Choke on it! Die!”

Death snapped his head to Harron, forgetting that he'd come to end my suffering. His hair hung in damp waves about his face,though the silver that he had risen from wasn't coating his hair, his clothes, or his skin as it was Harron. The metallic fluid ran off of his boots and defied the laws of nature as it pooled back together, rollingupthe steps and pouring back into the pool.

I didn't have the energy to raise my head and watch as Death descended the steps toward Harron. My eyes were flashing now. Flickering. My ears still worked, though.