Malediction (Scars of the Sundering Book 1) (14 page)

Orange,
yellow, and green vegetables surrounded a steaming, pink roast. Its surface
with flaked with herbs and spices and its aroma made Delilah's mouth water and
stomach grumble. Pancras carved a hunk for Kale, then for her, and finally for
himself. As she prepared to dig in, a shadow crossed over her and loomed
between her and Kale.

"That's
my table."

Delilah
looked up to see a bare-chested minotaur. Veins stood out against knotty
muscles. His brown fur was matted in spots, and both horns had jagged tips
where they'd been broken off. His blood-shot eyes glared down at them, and his
notched and torn ears twitched.

"Now,"
Pancras set down the knife and held up his hands. "We sat here yesterday
and Janek there said we could sit—"

The minotaur
slammed his fists on the table, spilling Delilah's ale to the ground. "I
don't care with that fat, greasy human said. I sit here. Everyone knows it.
Move your scrawny asses before I eat them for dinner!"

The tavern
fell silent. Delilah could feel everyone's eyes upon them. She reached for her
staff before remembering that she left it in the room.

"Ktinos!
They're paying customers." Lenka grabbed the minotaur's arm. "There
are plenty of other tables."

Ktinos
pushed Lenka away. "Don't touch me, Woman."

"There's
no need to get angry." Pancras pushed himself away from the table and
stood with deliberate movement. He gestured at their empty chair. "We have
room for one more."

"I
don't share!" The minotaur shoved Delilah backward, upending her chair and
sending her flying into the next table. Stars exploded in her vision. Through
the haze, she saw customers jump up and scatter. Some backpedaled to the far
side of the tavern, while others bolted out the door.

"Deli!"

She rolled
over and looked up. Kale leapt at the minotaur, snarling drawing one of his
daggers. He sunk it into the minotaur's arm down to the hilt and hung on with
both hands. Ktinos roared and thrashed. He grabbed Kale by the waist and tried
to pull him away, but Kale bit the tip of his nose. Delilah saw the tips of
Pancras's horns glow.

Ktinos
lifted Kale up, roaring and bellowing. Kale's eyes bulged as the minotaur
squeezed him with hands as big as the drak's head. Delilah tried to push
herself to her feet, but her arms wobbled. She shook her head in an attempt to
clear her swimming vision.

Kale cried
out and coughed. Then, he exhaled a gout of flame into the minotaur's face.
With a high-pitched, primal scream, the minotaur tossed Kale away and swatted
at his face. He ran around, flailing his arms as the stench of burning fur
filled the air. Flames wreathed his head, climbing higher and higher until they
licked the ceiling. The minotaur ran headlong into the stonework hearth, and
with a crack, his flaming head smacked the stones. He fell to the ground, his
wails of agony trailing off as smoke and fire seared his throat. The tavern's
customers watched in silence as his head continued to burn until Lenka grabbed
the nearest table's ale and doused the flames.

Delilah
pushed herself to her feet. "What—by Maris's bloody spear, what just
happened?"

Kale
trembled. He eyes darted from the dead, but still twitching minotaur, to his
sister and back. "I don't know, Deli."

* * *

Kale shook
with such intensity he couldn't see clearly. The taste of brimstone filled his
mouth, and he spat to clear it. His spittle hit the wooden floor and smoldered
there, leaving a black scorch as it evaporated.

"Have
you ever done that before, Kale?" Pancras stared at him, watching as he
leaned around the table to help Delilah to her feet.

Shaking his
head, Kale reached for the tankard of ale on the table. "I don't even know
what I did."

"You
breathed fire." Pancras knelt down and pulled Delilah up. He touched the
back of her head, causing her to wince. Blood glistened on his fingers.

"Deli,
are you all right? You have to be all right."

Staggering
back to her chair, Delilah nodded. "I'll be okay. It's just a bump."

Janek
approached their table, clapping his hands and calling for everyone to go about
their business. "You might think about leaving here now. Ktinos was a
brute, for sure, and I'll vouch for you that it was self-defense, but even that
doesn't get very far these days."

"We
have to leave town?" Kale's stomach knotted up.
No, no, we can't! We'll
die out on the plains when it snows. We can't get to Muncifer before winter.
He
grabbed Pancras's arm. The necromancer chewed his bottom lip and rubbed his
right horn.

"We
have nowhere to go. Nowhere we can get to before the snow falls." Pancras
shook his head. "We'll try to reason with the authorities. It's our only
chance."

That didn't
sound like a good idea to Kale, but he was willing to go along with Pancras. He
looked back at the dead minotaur.
Maybe he's right. What's happening to me?
He
rubbed his chest. His lungs burned, although the sensation faded when he
concentrated on ignoring it.

"Nuts
to that." Delilah stood up but was forced to grab the table to keep from
falling. She sat back down. "There's got to be another village or
something around here." She looked up at Janek. "Right?"

The human
scratched his head. "A few farms here and there, and Fallow Gulch about
three days west of here."

"Three
days. We can make that. It won't snow in three days." Delilah reached
across the table and took Pancras's hands. "We can't be at the mercy of
these humans, Pancras. You know they'll see us just as monsters. They always
do."

"Here
now—" Janek protested, as guards burst into the tavern. One of the humans
who fled the initial confrontation pointed at their table, and guards
surrounded them, swords drawn. Another stepped over to Ktinos's body and gagged
at the sight of charred flesh.

Kale
prepared to rise, but a glance from Pancras told him to stay put. The
necromancer gestured for Delilah to sit back down as well. "We don't want
any trouble."

A burly
guard approached the table. He regarded the three in silence before smoothing
his drooping mustache. "You three are under arrest." He gestured to
the other guards. "Take them away."

* * *

The door
slamming shut on Pancras's cell sounded like a pealing bell announcing a
momentous death. The guards stripped him of his clothes, jewelry, and even the
gilded tips of his horns, and he stood there literally and figuratively naked.
A trussed cot and waste bucket were his only companions.

Kale and
Delilah were in separate, but nearby, cells. They, too, were stripped of their
possessions, but as for clothing, they had only their cloaks. Delilah sat on
her cot, holding her head and groaning. Kale paced, wringing his hands. He
stepped up to the bars and gripped them, sticking his snout between them.

"What
are we going to do, Pancras? You know they want to string us up. You heard them
talking."

The
possibility the humans would refuse to listen to reason crossed his mind. He
lied anyway. "It's just talk, Kale, to intimidate us. You acted in
self-defense. They must see that."

"I
didn't do anything! Not on purpose, anyway."

"Everyone
says that, at first."

In the cell
next to Kale's, a drak with burnt-orange scales stepped out of the shadows.
From her temples two horns ran back along her head and curled under her ear
fringes. She leaned against the bars and grinned. "I'm Kali, in here for
yet another misunderstanding. How about you?"

"I
melted a minotaur's face off." Kale's head drooped. He slid down the bars
until he sat on the floor and drew his knees up to his chest.

"Nice!
Magic?"

"We're
not sure how it happened." Pancras grabbed the cell door, rattling it to
see how secure it was. There was some play, but was still quite secure.

"You
have stripes, huh?" Kali glanced over at Delilah. She still held her head
but now regarded the other drak female with narrowed eyes. "Is she your
mate?"

Kale looked
up. "Sister."

"Hm,
striped siblings. Your clan must think you're something special. Strange they'd
let you run around a city like this."

Pancras
didn't like where the questions seemed to be headed. "What do you want
from us?"

"From
you, oh, Mighty Hairy One? Nothing. I just haven't had anyone to talk to in a
while."

Pancras
frowned and sat down on his cot. "You're asking more questions than
talking."

"You
can't learn nothing by keeping your mouth shut." Kali tapped the bars of
her cell with a claw.

"Sure
you can. You should try it." Delilah hopped off her cot. She grabbed the
door to her cell and yanked on it. As with the door on Pancras's cell, it
rattled but did not open. "We need to get out of here before the humans
decide to be done with us."

Kali
chuckled. "They've already made up their minds. Whatever's going to happen
to you is going to happen. If you're lucky, they'll waste enough time that I
can get you out of here once they cut me loose."

Rubbing his
right horn, Pancras shook his head. "No, we must bide our time. I need to
think." He didn't doubt Kali's word that the humans already decided their
fate, but he suspected a jailbreak was not the answer. He didn't want to be on
the run from the law while trying to survive winter in the wilderness. Pancras
looked around his cell. It was stark, cold, uncomfortable, but it beat freezing
to death on the plains.

"Suit
yourself." Kali shrugged and chuckled.

Kale jumped
up and approached her. "How could you help us, exactly?"

"We
don't need her help, Kale." Delilah rattled the door to her cell to get
his attention.

"Sure
you don't."

The door to
the holding area opened. A guard appeared and looked around. "All
prisoners on your cots! Move it!"

He waited
until the three draks were seated and then proceeded into the holding area.
"Three of them now… which one of you is Kali Blackclaw?"

The orange
drak raised a clawed hand. "That'd be me, Chief."

"All
right, you're done. Stay on the cot." He approached her cell and unlocked
it. Pulling it open, he waved his cudgel. "Out you get. The Master Jailer
has your possessions. Collect them on the way out."

Kali hopped
off her cot, smoothed her brown, leather jerkin, and sauntered past the guard,
winking at Kale as she passed him. "If you get out, come see me at The
Assassin's Dagger. Just ask the barkeep for me by name. That's Kali Blackclaw,
Stripey."

The guard
pushed her. "Keep moving."

Delilah
hopped off her cot and ran to the cell bars. "Hey, you have to let us out,
too. All we did was defend ourselves from that mad minotaur!"

Slamming his
cudgel against the bars, the guard wheeled on Delilah. "On your cot,
Worm!"

Delilah
glowered at him but returned to her cot.

Pushing Kali
out of the holding area, the guard looked over his shoulder at the three
prisoners. "The magistrate will hear from you in the morning. Keep quiet
until then."

"He'll
hear what idiots you are!" Delilah hopped off her cot again, her fists
clenched. "If we had our foci, we'd blast this place to rubble! Our
minotaur's a necromancer! You'll be lucky if he doesn't raise an army of
zombies and raze this city to the ground!"

"Delilah!"
Pancras fought to keep his voice steady. "Quiet!"

"What?
These idiots—"

"Necromancy
is punishable by death in some cities." Pancras put his head in his hands
and rubbed his temples.
There's no situation that can't be made worse by an
excitable drak.

"Yeah,
well, they're still lucky." Delilah paced in her cell. "Gods, my head
hurts." She stopped and looked at her brother, her brows furrowed in
concern. "How are you, Kale? Your aches and pains? Better? Worse? Talk to
me."

Kale kicked
his feet as they dangled off the edge of the cot. "My back still hurts.
Other than that, I feel pretty good."

A small
window at the far end of the holding area allowed Pancras to judge the time of
day. It was nearly dusk when they were arrested, and now, it was pitch dark
outside. Lanterns at either end of the holding area provided scant light.

Tracking the
passage of time with the growing darkness became challenging. Pancras stretched
out on his cot. A moth-eaten blanket was his only protection against the cold,
and his hooves hung off the edge of the prison bed.

Sleep did
not come easily to Pancras that night. He tossed and turned on the cot, unable
to find a comfortable position. The whispers of the drak twins added to his
anxiety.
Life was simpler when all I had to do was create a few skellies now
and then. Study my magic, fend off a few dwarven attacks, and everybody left me
alone.