Malediction (Scars of the Sundering Book 1) (3 page)

Splurrrt-woosh!
Air rushed past them as the rift contracted, and then a sucking sound,
reminiscent of viscous goo squirting from a wine skin, filled the room. Pancras
felt a force slam into him, driving the breath from his lungs. There was a
flash of light, and then all was still. Edric's sword clanged on the ground as
the tentacles he fought vanished. The closing rift bisected the bloodmaw: the
part in the rift gone, and the part still within Calliome mortally wounded. It
slithered out of the hole in the ceiling and crashed to the floor with a
grotesque, wet plop.

As he tried
to catch his breath, Pancras fell to his knees. Smokey tendrils wafted from his
limbs, growing more and more nebulous until they vanished completely. He no
longer saw the shadow demon, but that was no guarantee he eliminated the
threat. The dwarf was behind him, getting to his feet. He couldn't see the
drak. "Kale?" Pancras's voice was hoarse and raspy.

"Ow."

Pancras
strode around the bloodmaw's carcass to find Kale curled up against the wall.
The drak held his head and moaned. Kneeling down next to him, the minotaur put
his hand on Kale's shoulder. The drak's scales felt hot, feverish, and
uncomfortable to touch.

"Kale?
Can you move?"

"Can
I?" Kale lifted his head as if lead weights were attached to his skull.
His eyes seemed different to Pancras, though they had not changed their outward
appearance. "Yes, but I don't want to. I hurt, Pancras. I feel like I'm
burning up from the inside out."

"It'll
pass." He helped Kale to his feet.
I hope.

"What
now?" Edric poked at the remains of the bloodmaw with his sword. The
angular blade sank into the carcass like a knife into a quivering pile of
jelly. He grimaced and yanked it out, shaking slime off it.

Pancras
looked around the room. There was still no sign of the shadow demon.
"Let's try to head back to Ironkrag. You dwarves can probably deal with
any remaining beasties down here. I recommend collapsing these caverns
entirely." He figured the dwarves would ignore his advice, but he gave it
anyway.

"They
sent me down here to get rid of me. I bet they never thought I'd come
back."

"Why is
the room all twisty?" Kale held his head and staggered. Pancras reached
under his arm and picked him up, surprised how light the he was, given his
propensity for ale.

"If
nothing else, you have quite a tale to tell."

"Aye."

The three
made their way up the twisting tunnel back into the main chamber where Pancras
destroyed the ghouls. The cavern was quiet and still, with only the
phosphorescent glow of fungus providing light. No creatures stirred, not even
cave rats, and in comparison to the cacophony in the cave earlier, to Pancras's
ears their breathing was deafening.

Kale's body
cooled, and by the time they returned to the tunnel leading to Ironkrag, he
demanded he be allowed to stand on his own.

"I can
walk! You can't carry me into Ironkrag. We'd never live it down!"

Pancras
lowered Kale to the ground before the drak squirmed out of his arms and risked
injury. He kept a close eye on him, nevertheless, unsure of whether the effects
of the chaos rift were permanent.

He took a deep
breath as he saw the area of darkness at the end of the tunnel. "Let's
just get this report to the dwarves over with. Then we can go home."

Chapter 2

After
several hours answering the same questions over and over again in the dwarven
council chamber, the Seer-King was satisfied with the group's resolution of the
problem. Pancras declined an invitation to stay and feast with the dwarves, and
he and Kale spent the next few days trekking home. The forged, black gates of
Drak-Anor were a welcome sight. As they trudged up the mountain path, a cold
wind blew down from the peaks, heralding the approach of winter. Deep shadows
shrouded the pass as the sun descended behind the mountains.

Pancras
welcomed the coming snow. Snow blocked mountain passes, making the city quiet
without innumerable travelers afoot. Although many found winter more boring
than the other seasons, he enjoyed the time it allowed him to relax in front of
a crackling hearth and think.

He sighed.
He wanted nothing more right now than a goblet of mulled wine and a warm bed,
but Sarvesh would to want to know what happened under Ironkrag. Kale bounced
along beside him, and the minotaur wished there was some way to tap into the
drak's boundless energy, even as he was glad Kale seemed to have made a
complete recovery from his exposure to the energies of the rift.

"Come
on, Pancras! We're home!" Kale ran forward, waving for his friend to keep
up. The minotaur shook his head and smiled.

"Go on
ahead." He waved for the drak to go on ahead without him. "Find your
sister, and have a drink. I must meet with Sarvesh."

As he passed
through the gate, the guards nodded in recognition. Most of his minotaur kin
gave him a wide berth, but they always treated him with respect. Pancras
suspected it was more out of fear that he would turn them into zombies than
actual admiration for his abilities.

Of course I
would never turn them without their permission.
Pancras
rolled his neck. He had not created undead in several years, not since the
Battle of the East Gate when the forces of Drak-Anor defeated the warlock and
his army of oroqs who wanted the underground city and its resources for
themselves. That was the day its citizens made Drak-Anor its own city, rather
than a destination to be ruled by whomever wielded the most power. That was the
day the Earth Dragon came.

Terrakaptis
made his lair in the caldera of the extinct volcano inhabited by Drak-Anor and
tended the new World Tree growing in the rich, volcanic soil. Pancras didn't
see the Earth Dragon much. He was uncomfortable around a creature who was only
one generation removed from the gods, and he suspected his necromancy made the
dragon uncomfortable.

"Pancras!
Oh, Pancras!"

Pancras
shook his head and focused his mind from its wanderings as Bargle waddled up to
him. Bargle was a golguthron, a three-legged, tentacled creature capable of and
willing to eat anything. The golguthrons kept Drak-Anor clean, eager to eat the
refuse, cast-off, and sewage created by the myriad creatures living in the
city.
'Tis a motley bunch we have living here.

"Bargle.
I'm on my way to see Sarvesh, now." He hoped the revelation would stave
off conversation.

No such
luck. "There are some men here to see you. I think they're waiting with
Sarvesh."

"Who?"
Pancras did not expect visitors.

"Men.
Humans, I mean. I thought they were dwarves at first, but they're tall, like
the werewolf girl."

Aeryn
.
Probably
off scouting the lower trails.
"Then what makes them dwarf-like?"
Pancras scratched his head. He often found Bargle's logic difficult to follow.

"They're
hairy. Great long beards!" Bargle waggled his tentacles. "What do
they want?"

Pancras
frowned and shrugged. "I have no idea; I haven't spoken to them yet. I
certainly didn't invite them here. I don't know any humans."

The last
wasn't strictly true. It would have been more accurate for Pancras to say he
didn't know any humans who would come visit him out of the blue.

"All
right, thanks, Bargle. I will see what they want."

Pancras left
the golguthron and continued on his way. The minotaur wound his way through the
city market, ignoring the merchants hawking their wares at him. Sarvesh ruled
Drak-Anor from the Council Tower, and while he had a private chamber within it,
he often spent his time in the council chamber itself, with the councilors from
the Drak-Anor's various districts, as he did not want to be seen as a ruler
disconnected from his people. Sarvesh was very conscious about being involved
in the daily affairs of the city since he ruled over mostly draks and
minotaurs, and he was one of the Unseelie Fae himself.

The Council
Tower stood at the far end of the city market. Erected from hewn stone blocks,
it stood only a few stories above the tallest of the market buildings, barely
half the height of the cavern in which the market sat. An outsider might
mistake it for an unremarkable building.

Pancras
entered the tower and walked along the outer corridor toward the stairs that
led up. He stuck his head into the council chamber as he passed to see if,
despite the late hour, Sarvesh was inside. Indeed, he was, towering over two
humans attired in mouse-grey robes, his wings flapping at a lazy pace and a
flame dancing on the end of his tail.

Taking a
deep breath, he strode into the council chamber. "I have returned from
Ironkrag, Lord Sarvesh. The ghouls are no more." He spoke in the Drak
language to Sarvesh, unconcerned with whether or not the humans could
understand him.

"Pancras!"
Sarvesh spread his arms and met his friend halfway, embracing him. "I
assume by your demeanor that all went well?"

He shrugged.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed the humans vying for their attention. He
ignored them. "As well as could be expected. There was a shadow demon, an
army of ghouls, a chaos rift, and a chaos beast." Pancras scratched his
chin. "Nothing we couldn't handle."

Sarvesh's
smile faded. He stepped in closer and lowered his voice. "By the gods, my
friend… Are you putting on a show for the humans?"

Pancras
nodded. "Of course. They might not understand my words, but I don’t want
to appear as exhausted as I am. It was unexpectedly challenging. We were
fortunate."

"I knew
I could count on you." Sarvesh's smile returned and he clapped Pancras on
the shoulder. "Now then, these humans say you must answer charges of some
sort." Sarvesh circled the humans.

One of the
humans, a shorter man with a long, grey-streaked blond beard cleared his
throat. "We represent the Arcane University." His voice, shrill and
uneven, possessed no trace of accent as he spoke in Drak, "You are
delinquent on your dues and thus, are in violation of the oath you swore when
you accepted our training."

Pancras
ground his teeth.
Seriously? They traveled all this way to collect my dues.
Since when did they care about that?
"Fine, I'll pay them. How
much?" He reached into his money pouch, searching for coins.

The other
human, a taller man, whose robes were a bit darker grey than the other's,
stepped forward. His shaggy, brown beard bounced up and down as he spoke.
"One thousand, three hundred eleven crowns, after penalties, fees, and
expenses."

Nodding,
Pancras fumbled around in his pouch for a moment, and then his eyes widened.
"Crowns? Gold crowns?" Most of the world used silver coins, talons,
as the standard of payment. One gold crown was worth ten talons.

Sarvesh
whistled. "That's quite a lot. No wonder there are so few wizards. Who can
afford the fees?"

"The
money"—the blond-bearded human waved his hand—"is inconsequential at
this point. Your negligence in paying the dues, as I mentioned earlier, is a
violation of the Wizard's Oath."

Pancras
rubbed his right horn and chewed his lip. He never expected them to come
looking for him. "You never seemed to care about this before. What's
different now?"

"Our
Lord, Archmage Vilkan Icebreaker, the Manless, has instituted some changes with
the blessing of the Duke of Muncifer."

Pancras bit
his lip until he tasted blood. "What happened to old umm"—he snapped
his fingers—"What was his name? Archmage Golovin?"

The
brown-bearded human's eyebrow rose, and his eyes widened. "Oh, he died.
Several years ago."

"Pancras
is my valued advisor." Sarvesh drew himself up to his full height and
spread his wings. "As you no doubt overheard, he just returned from an
expedition helping our neighbors in Ironkrag with a sticky situation."
Flames trickled along the edges of Sarvesh's wings. Pancras wasn't sure if he
was angry or attempting to intimidate the humans.

The
blond-bearded human did not back down. "Which is why he is being given the
option to present himself before a tribunal. If he were considered a true
renegade, we would be authorized to kill him."

"Fine."
Pancras spread his arms and bowed. "I present myself before you for
judgment. I apologize for my neglect and will be happy to pay any penalties and
fees, as well as my dues forward for at least a decade."
I have no idea
where I’ll obtain that amount of money, but hopefully Sarvesh will back me.

Brown Beard
chuckled. "That's very nice, but we are not your tribunal. You are to
present yourself to the Tribunal of the One at the Arcane University in
Muncifer on the first day of Spring's Dawning."

"Muncifer?
Spring's Dawning?" Pancras's mouth dropped open. "That will require
me to leave in the middle of winter to have even a prayer of reaching Muncifer
in time."

Blond Beard
nodded. "Hm, yes. I imagine the snows can close down these mountain
passes. I expect you should leave quite a bit sooner than mid-winter. If you do
not appear at your tribunal, you will be branded a renegade and hunted down.
Understand?"

Pancras
nodded, his ears flattening. He, of course, knew of the Slayers, the wizard
hunters, the university employed. He was sure he could deal with one or two,
but he understood how the Arcane University handled renegades and knew that one
or two would be followed by others, endlessly, and he would not be able to show
his face in the civilized world again. Not that he had any intention of leaving
Drak-Anor, though it appeared he would not have a choice in the matter.

"Very
good, then." Brown Beard nodded and clasped his hands together. "Be
well, and have a safe journey!" The two humans exited the council chamber,
leaving Pancras alone with Sarvesh.

"If it
was that important, you'd think they'd clap you in irons and lead you to
Muncifer themselves." Sarvesh stared after the two humans.

"That's
too crude for them. They assume every user of the arcane arts will be mindful
of their oaths and do the honorable thing." Pancras scuffed the tip of his
hoof on the floor. "They were quite serious about sending Slayers."

Sarvesh put
his hand on his friend's shoulder. "They'd have to get through our gates
to get to you."

"Yes."
Pancras nodded. "I can't endanger anyone here over thirteen hundred
crowns. I'll just go, pay the fine, and return here as quickly as
possible."

"And the
punishment?"

The minotaur
shrugged. "How bad can it be? If they kill me or somehow render me unable
to use magic, they're not going to get any more money from me. What's the
expression? One cannot squeeze blood from a stone?"

"Famous
last words."

* * *

To Kale,
entering The Bloody Spike was like coming home, more so than was stepping
through the gates of Drak-Anor. He and his sister spent most of their free time
in the pub; it was his happy place, and after what he experienced in the chaos
rift, he needed his happy place.

He didn't
want to admit it to Pancras, but he still felt as if his blood were on fire,
and his vision had not yet returned to normal either: he saw auras around
everyone. He didn't understand their significance but decided to ignore them
until after he had an ale with his sister.
Besides, Deli might be able to
tell me something. She's smart about this magic stuff.

Delilah sat
at their regular table, her staff leaning against the table next to hers. Where
Kale was striped black and red, Delilah was striped red and black, although she
was quick to correct anyone that her coloring was actually crimson and ebony.
It appeared as if the skull topping her staff stared at the mug of ale in front
of her and the steaming plate of sausages in the center of the table.

A black drak
sat next to her, smiling, resting his head on a hand as he stared at her, and
his lips parted in a wide grin. They were each surrounded by a golden glow.
Kale rubbed his eyes, and the glow faded. The aroma of the sausages wafted past
Kale's nose, and his stomach grumbled. He felt as if he hadn't eaten in days.
Since Sarvesh engaged in trade agreements with Celtangate and Ironkrag, the
quality of food available in Drak-Anor improved immeasurably. Kale wasn't sure
he wanted the other drak sitting so close to his sister. He narrowed his eyes
and stared at the stranger as he approached, realizing only as he seated
himself that he knew the dark-scaled drak.