Page 182 of Vasmora

“Where did you learn that?” I asked.

“The Lyverian warriors showed me. You aim for the nervous system. The vivicantem dismantles it a bit. Keeps them from producing the tiny spiders that spread infection.”

A far cry from the somewhat clumsy Corwin I’d come to know.

I turned in time to see Zevander slice the front legs off one of the spider mutations. The beastly thing reared up with a hiss, and Zevander thrusted his sword into the human face embedded in the underside of it, the blade splitting its mouth at the jaw. The strike of his weapon, graceful and calculated, was like a grotesque waltz in a shower of blood and meat. The spider oozed a black fluid and crumpled to the ground, spilling smaller spiders across the lawn, but a sweep of Zevander’s flame had them hissing and curling into ashes.

In a move so quick I hardly processed it, he pivoted toward me and threw out his palm, a flash of black zipping past Corwin and me, the heat licking my skin.

I spun around to see a pile of steaming ashes where I presumed a spider had been moments before. A second mutation on its heels was quickly snapped up by Raivox, who chomped and guzzled it back, letting bits of carapace fall to the ground.

Corwin exhaled a forced breath. “Good thing I’ve not had much to drink. I almost pissed myself just now.”

A trembling breath escaped me as I stared back at Zevander, the crinkle in his eyes telling me he was smiling behind his mask.

Shaking my head, I twisted back around, waiting for the next wave of mutations to attack, sparing a quick glance toward the yard, where hundreds of carcasses lay scattered.

A massive shadow passed over the ground and a gust of wind blew my hair, as Adira landed Achlys alongside us. “I don’t see any more advancing.”

“We’ll return to Eidolon.” Zevander’s gaze swept over me, undoubtedly searching for any sign of injury, and he casually strode toward Corwin, whose shoulders straightened as he neared. “These vivicantem swords, how much is required to forge them?”

“Many of the Lyverians simply dipped their blades into the vivicantem. You harden it to the steel.”

“You’ve seen them do this?”

“Many times.” Corwin raised his sword, handing it to him. The crudeness of it made it look like a child’s toy, but it’d proven effective. “I made my own.”

Zevander’s eye twitched as he held it loosely in his hand, clearly unimpressed by the craftsmanship. “This doesn’t make sense. Mancers consume vivicantem. Cadavros consumed it while infected.” He handed the blade back to Corwin.

“Yes, and if you poke them anywhere but along that spine of theirs, they don’t die. I believe the vivicantem interferes with their brain stem somehow.”

Zevander stroked his jaw above where a spattering of black blood marked his neck. “So, it’s not just the vivicantem, but killing them in a specific way.”

“Yes. Exactly. Believe me, I’ve nearly died trying to stab them.” Corwin shoved his sword into a holster at his hip.

“I believe you. You’ll come with us.”

“Oh, I was hoping to return to Lyveria …” Corwin’s gaze shifted between Zevander and me, before he glanced back at Adira, offering a slow nod. “But I suppose we could stay a bit longer. Sure.”

“Good. I have a small supply of vivicantem back in Eidolon. I think we can make use of it.”

“And the amulet?” Lothare strode toward the group, a slight limp to his step, seemingly injured from the fight. “What of the plan to retrieve it?”

Zevander peered around at the hundreds of carcasses lying about. “We nearly had our asses handed to us just now. Who’s to say how many have infested the castle.”

“It’s true. They’re everywhere,” Gavroche said, yanking up his oversized pants as he approached. “Rumor in The Hovel is, the king’s turned, as well.”

Exhaling a sigh, Zevander crossed his arms. “If that’s the case, we’ll need to be prepared to fight for it. The vivicantem may prove useful.”

“So strange.” Corwin scratched at his chin. “I actually understand quite a bit of their conversation.”

“As do I,” Adira added. “What language are you speaking.”

“Nyxterosi,” Zevander and I both said in unison.

“So long as we don’t stay idle, I’m in favor of a little rest.” Hands braced at his hips, Lothare stretched his neck. “The longer we wait, though, the bigger their army.”

“Agreed. We’ll rest, eat, and prepare our weapons.” Zevander lifted my arm, took in the small scratch where the wraith had tried to bite me, and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. “In two days, we’ll infiltrate the castle for the amulet and end this.”