Malediction (Scars of the Sundering Book 1) (18 page)

The fresh
air cleared his head. He thought about the dark, strange dream he had as well
as the vision when discussing the tapestry with Lady Milena. Pancras was not
one to have particularly vivid dreams, so this recent trend unnerved him.
Between Kale's affliction and his dreams and visions, Pancras thought Delilah
might be the only one among them who was even remotely normal.
And then
there's Edric. Has the dwarf abandoned us?

The scuff of
boots on the stone floor startled him. He turned to see a regal woman
approaching him. Her sepia-brown skin seemed to glow with orange-red undertones
in the morning sun. She was dressed in a fur-lined, beaded, white gown, and her
ebony hair was woven into a complex braid that hung down her back to her waist.
She held a steaming goblet in her hands, and as she regarded Pancras, he
noticed she appeared to be evaluating whether or not she should be alarmed to
see a minotaur standing on the veranda or ignore him as if he were part of the
scenery.

Pancras
bowed. "Good morning."

The woman
titled her head. "I am Princess Valene. Identify yourself, Minotaur."

"Pancras"—he
considered whether or not to add his title and remembered Prince Gavril's
instructions—"First Wizard of Drak-Anor."

"Ah,
yes. One of my husband's new pets." She turned and looked out over the
city.

Unsure
whether he should stay or retreat to his chamber, Pancras remained still for a
moment. The darkness of her skin as well as her accent, told him that Princess
Valene was not a native of Etrunia. He thought she might be from the north,
possibly Vlorey.

"Did
that term upset you?"

"Your
pardon, Highness?" Pancras bowed again. "I was unsure if it was
proper to remain here. I was enjoying the fresh air for a moment."

"You
may remain. For now." Princess Valene sipped from her goblet and then
turned to face him. "Why are you here? What business have you with Almeria
that is so important my husband would allow you use of a suite here in the
palace?"

Pancras
swallowed, fighting to keep his expression neutral.
How can I face you, you
who are the reason I am here?
He found he could not meet her gaze, the jade
eyes which regarded him with unspoken accusation. "We are ambassadors from
Drak-Anor—"

"Do not
insult my intelligence. That odious little troll would not accept ambassadors
from a place he has barely heard of, not like this. Maybe if you were from
Celtangate or even Ironkrag, I could believe it, but you are not a dwarf."

"Kind
of you to notice—"

Princess
Valene clicked her tongue. She poked him in the chest, forcing him to meet her
gaze. She was tall for a human; Pancras stood only a head taller than she.
"Let us speak plainly, Minotaur."

Pancras
reached up to rub his right horn and nodded. "Very well."

"My
husband is a schemer. He is always plotting, always looking for an advantage. I
do not know what his game is, why he thinks a minotaur and two draks will gain
him anything, or over whom, but I will be watching."

"Your
Highness, whatever it is you think your husband is plotting, I assure you, we
have no involvement in it. In fact, our plan is to leave as soon as the snows
melt sufficiently for us to travel to Muncifer safely." Pancras liked this
deal with Prince Gavril less and less the more he thought about it. He never
wanted to encounter his intended victim. Nausea at the thought of cursing this
woman welled in the pit of his stomach.

"So you
say." She stared at him for a moment, her eyes searching his face for the
lie. "No matter. Tell me of Drak-Anor. It is relatively new, is it not? I
don't remember hearing about it when I was growing up in Vlorey, and I heard
many things whilst loitering around the docks."

Pancras was
happy for the change of subject. A breeze brought the aroma of Princess
Valene's beverage past Pancras's nose. He caught the scent of wine and spices.
"The city has always been there, at least, longer than I have lived there.
It's only been recently that we've come together behind a reasonable leader and
removed the more destructive elements sharing our mountain home, the goblins
and oroqs that infest the tunnels and caverns of the Dragon Spine
Mountains."

"So you
are not from there, originally? I thought I recognized your accent. Muncifer,
is it not?"

"You
are very wise, Highness."

"It is
experience, not wisdom. I listened to many sailors from the south, many
minotaurs, as they told their tall tales on the docks of Vlorey." She
smiled and looked up at him. "Pity you're here under false pretenses. I
might have enjoyed hearing your stories as well."

"Regardless
of my true intentions," Pancras decided to gamble, "It doesn't make
my unrelated stories less relevant to your enjoyment."

"True."
She reached out and touched his sleeve and examined his jewelry. "You have
a keener fashion sense than most minotaurs I've seen. Yes… I will be watching
you."

Princess
Valene drank from her goblet and nodded to Pancras. "I must assume my
duties at court. We shall talk again, Am—no, I shall not call you Ambassador
because we both know that is a false title. Pancras, First Wizard of
Drak-Anor."

Pancras
watched as she glided down the corridor. He let out a breath and slumped. His
burden just became much heavier.

* * *

After
breaking their fast, Pancras and Delilah cleaned and re-heated the bath water
so Pancras and Kale could have their turns. While the males bathed, Delilah
studied her grimoire. It was mid-morning by the time they were all ready to
leave the suite. Delilah's messenger returned to them as they prepared to
leave.

The
electric-blue, conjured boggin jumped and yipped. "Mistress Delilah, Dwarf
Edric reports that he has a good thing going at an unnamed gambling
establishment and will be in contact later." It disappeared in a puff of
blue smoke.

Kale nodded.
"I'm glad he's all right."

Delilah
harrumphed. "Yeah, he'll be in contact when he's run out of money and run
up massive debts, I'll bet."

"That'll
be his problem, Delilah." Pancras led the way as they traversed the
palace's corridors and down the spiral staircase to the main hall. "I need
to speak to the prince about equipment for the research he wants me to do and
see if I can get us permission to go out into the city. In the meantime, I want
you two to explore the palace. Go everywhere they'll let you." He leaned
in close and lowered his voice. "Who knows, maybe you can find secret ways
in and out of the palace, huh?" Pancras smiled and shooed them away as he
continued toward the throne room.

Kale rubbed
his hands together. "This will be great, Deli. It's like exploring the
caverns around Deep Road, except there's nothing waiting in the shadows to eat
us!"

"Just
guards who want to stick us." Delilah returned the glare of a palace guard
who watched them.

Kale wasn't
worried about the guard. Lady Milena seemed nice enough from what Pancras told
him. "So what if a few guards don't like us? We're ambassadors, right?
They can't do anything to us as long as we don't do anything bad."

"I wish
we could go outside the palace. The snow in the mountains was always severe and
harsh, but it looks like it might be fun to go out in it here." Delilah
looked toward the palace doors and pulled her furred mantle tighter.

Kale took
his sister's arm and pulled her toward an undecorated corridor. "Pancras
will convince them to let us leave the palace. There will be plenty of snow.
Besides, it's just cold and sticks to you and then gets all wet."

They
wandered the palace for hours. It didn't take long for Kale to ascertain the
less decorated a room or hallway was, the fewer guards and the more servants
there would be. Decorated areas were intended for visitors and those the royal
family wanted to impress; the more lavish the decorations, the more important
the areas were to the family's image.

Their
explorations led to a heavy wooden door at the end of a dusty corridor. The
pain in Kale’s back returned, and he wanted to have another hot bath; it seemed
to alleviate the discomfort. However, the lure of the door was too much.

"I
think we've seen enough, Kale. You could draw a map of this place
already!" Delilah leaned on her staff and tapped her foot. Her claws
clicked an impatient rhythm on the stone floor.

"Sure,
except for this door." He opened it. Stairs led down. "Excellent! Are
you coming? We could probably use some light down there."

"
Fos
."
The top of Delilah's staff emitted a pale light. "You know, if they don't
have those magical lights down there, it probably means no one goes down there
anymore. If you're looking for things to eat you, that's where they'll
be."

Kale grinned
and patted the daggers on his bandoleer. "I have these, and I have you.
Plus, I can breathe fire now."

"Great.
You'll burn down the palace all around us."

Kale
descended the stairs alongside his sister. "Stone walls won't burn."

The stairs
led to a vast room supported by arches which seemed to extend beyond the reach
of Delilah's light. Stone walls divided the room into alcoves; others were
filled with crates and chests. The air was damp, heavy, and smelled like mold.
Dust hung in the air like a grey cloud, causing the light from Delilah's staff
to appear as though it shone through a veil.

"This
is the place where all the junk goes to be forgotten." Delilah coughed
turned around. "Let's go. There won't be anything good down here."

Kale wasn't
convinced. He shook his head and pulled on her hand. He looked back at her when
she resisted. "Come on, are you scared? There's nothing bad down here.
It's just… stuff."

"I'm
not scared, Kale." Delilah snatched her hand away from her brother.
"I'm tired, it's dusty, and I want to get back to my grimoire."

"Fine.
Just make me a magical light, and I'll go on ahead."
If she doesn't
want to share in the fun, she can go be grumpy by herself.

"I
can't just make a magical light for you like that. It takes the right
materials, time, and a whole ritual! I'll work on one for you this week,
though. I promise."

Kale shook
his head. "Just a few more minutes, Deli."

"Oh,
fine!" Delilah huffed and pushed past him, holding her staff ahead of her
to light the way. Kale rushed to keep up with her. They advanced faster than he
wanted to explore, but at least they moved in farther and away from the stairs.

"Fantastic.
Another door." Delilah pointed with her staff. "Do you wonder what's
behind that one? Maybe it's extra dust with double the mold."

Kale laughed
and approached the door. "It's probably just more storage. I wonder if
they have any old crowns down here or anything like that. Ooh, maybe an old,
forgotten ancient dagger from before The Sundering!" He opened the door.

Beyond the
door was a corridor lined with internment niches. Kale spotted ossuaries and
urns, along with sarcophagi further down. Frescos depicting the departed
decorated the walls and ceilings. "It's a catacomb!"

"We
shouldn't go in there, Kale."

He furrowed
his brow and glanced at his sister. "Pancras said we could go anywhere the
guards didn't forbid us. I don't see any guards. Do you?"

"Kale!"
Delilah's expression told him all he needed to know. He spun around to see a
ragged, half-rotten man charging at him. Kale ducked and dove forward as the
undead creature lunged with outstretched blackened talons.

Rolling into
a kneeling position, Kale drew two daggers from his bandoleer. The creature
turned its attention to Delilah. Kale threw one of his daggers, striking the
undead thing between the shoulder blades. It ignored the wound, swiping a dirty
claw at his sister.

Delilah
jumped backward and leveled her staff. "
Dapane phlogone!"
A
stream of fire burst from her staff, engulfing the creature. "I told you
things down here wanted to eat us!"

The undead
creature spun around, flailing its arms as the flames consumed it. Kale
scurried under it as it fell backward. Delilah helped him to his feet. He
turned and saw dozens of pairs of glowing red eyes in the darkness of the
catacomb.

"That's
not good, Deli."

Delilah
pushed him out of the way and raised her staff high. Swirls of blue mist
surrounded her, fusing into a sphere in her palm. "
Ophayra!" S
he
tossed the coruscating orb toward the advancing mob. Kale slammed the door
after it, holding it shut until the explosive concussion hit the door and he
felt the heat of the flames through the wood.

"Let's
go!" Kale grabbed Delilah's hand and they ran out of the undercroft, back
upstairs until they reached the main hall. Servants and guards gathered, all
wondering what caused the explosion they heard.

Kale pointed
down the hall from whence they came. "Dead things! Under
"—he
fought to catch his breath—"under the palace… dead things!" He was
not sure if he spoke drak or the common trade language. The guards got the gist
and ran off in the direction he indicated.