Malediction (Scars of the Sundering Book 1) (37 page)

"I
heard Muncifer was a dwarven city before The Sundering." Edric yawned.
"When the world cracked, the mountains split open and exposed the city.
Most of the dwarves died. Then, when the world healed, the city remained on the
surface, and minotaurs repaired it. Now it's mostly humans and minotaurs, but I
think there are a couple of drak clans living in the area, too. No more
dwarves, though."

Kale cocked
his head. "You'll be the only dwarf there?" That sounded sad. Kale
wasn't sure he would want to live where he was the only one of his kind.

"Nah,
of course not. There will be dwarves there, but they'll be immigrants,
probably. Just like the minotaurs and draks here, right?" Edric looked up
as the bell rang from the food lift. Kale extracted himself from Kali and put
the food out on the table. Delilah emerged from her self-imposed exile to help.
The smell of food ignited a hunger Kale wasn't aware he had. The last meal he
consumed was when they broke their fasts that morning, and the excitement of
the day kept his mind off food. Now that it was in front of him, he couldn't
wait to dig in.

* * *

Pancras
followed Prince Gavril to his antechamber as the three draks headed back to
their living quarters. He knew what the prince wanted to talk to him about, so
he formulated his response as they strode.

The minotaur
spent a lot of time thinking about how to solve Prince Gavril's problem and an
equal time figuring how to make it appear he solved the problem without
actually rendering Princess Valene barren. The only sure conclusion he had
reached thus far was that he needed more time.

Prince
Gavril shut the door behind them and sat in an armchair. The flickering of the
candlelight cast sinister shadows over his face. They danced and jumped over
his eyes like dark faeries on a midsummer's night. He drummed his fingers on
the arm of his chair and looked at Pancras. "All right, enough of this
nonsense with the draks. What is your status?"

Pancras
cleared his throat and bowed. "I've taken my research as far as I can with
the limited resources I've been able to access and given the storms we've had.
I have acquired the materials and equipment I need to begin some rudimentary
work, but I would like to verify a few ideas with the priests of Cybele,
discretely, of course, before finalizing anything."

The prince
leaned forward. "Do you have a time schedule?"

"Three to
four weeks minimum, possibly more if additional storms come and I'm unable to
procure additional materials in a timely fashion." In truth, Pancras could
conduct all the experiments he wanted to perform in about a week, but he
figured Prince Gavril did not know enough about wizardry to know that.

"Acquire
the materials now, before the next storm."

"I
would, if I knew what I needed. This is not an exact science. I am attempting
to replicate a very messy, obvious effect in a way that leaves no outside traces.
I'm essentially creating new magic so this affliction cannot be traced back to
you."
Or me
.

"Well,
what does all this entail?" Prince Gavril furrowed his brow. Pancras
almost saw the gears grinding in the prince's head.

"Currently,
it appears the method with the most promise is a fetish of some sort, to be
inserted into the va—subject. It will release its magic, rendering her—"

"She'll
have to insert it?"

"Or
you. I think it would be inappropriate if I did it. There would be talk."
Pancras suppressed a chuckle at the thought of having such an intimate
encounter with Princess Valene. He didn't find women attractive, and human
women possessed far too little fur for his taste and lacked horns or hooves.
Feet always made Pancras squirm.

"There
is no other way?" Prince Gavril chewed on his fingernail. He stood up and
paced the room.

"None
that I am aware of at this time. Further research may prove illuminating."
If Prince Gavril was as squeamish as he suspected about touching his wife in
such an intimate fashion, Pancras hoped he would be more open to a slower pace
of progress.

"Then
do the research you need." Gavril spun, sweeping his cloak behind him.
"But finish before you're scheduled to leave. You need to go to Muncifer,
yes? I will not allow your departure until your task for me is complete."

Pancras
borrowed a phrase from Lady Milena and bowed. "It shall be done, Your
Highness."

Chapter 19

It took
several days after the reckoning of Reznik before everyone learned enough of
each other's routines to stay out of each other's way. With the addition of
Edric and Kali, the living quarters were too busy for Delilah's taste, and she
took to carrying her grimoire out to one of the vacant sitting rooms to study.

She never
saw servants tending the hearths in these sitting rooms, but there was always a
roaring fire waiting for her. Delilah suspected some sort of enchantment.
Ever-burning torches were not unheard of in Drak-Anor, and she supposed that
same magic could be adapted to keep a hearth burning eternally for someone with
sufficient wealth.

Reading in
front of a crackling fire relaxed her, and she found herself often dozing while
she studied her grimoire. She learned to hold the book in such a way that it
wouldn't drop onto the floor if she actually fell asleep, and the armchair was
large enough in which to curl up in comfort when she truly wanted a nap. There
was no place for Kali to sleep except in the bed she and Kale shared, and while
draks were used to sleeping together in groups, Delilah had become accustomed
to solitude or only her brother's presence at most. It was a good day for a
nap.

She awoke to
see guards reaching for her. Before she could cry out or move, they grabbed her
snout and arms and lifted her bodily out of the chair. Another guard bound her
legs. Despite squirming and her best efforts to wrench herself free, the humans
were too strong. They wrapped leather straps around her snout, muzzling her,
and then put a sack over her head. They bound her hands before they carried her
out of the sitting room.

Delilah
spent much of her life navigating dimly-lit underground passageways, and
visualized the route they took. They navigated several sets of stairs down near
what Delilah thought were the kitchens and larder. The next set of stairs took
Delilah into an area she did not immediately recognize. She deduced it was not
the royal living quarters from the musky, stale odor that permeated the area,
and she concluded she had been taken to the undercroft.

The men
stopped and whispered amongst themselves. They pushed her up against a cold,
stone wall, raised her hands above her head, and locked them in shackles. She
tried to shout at them through the muzzle and sack, but they ignored her and
left. In the distance she heard the drip-drip-drip of water and the sound of a
door being shut and locked.

Delilah felt
the tendons and ligaments in her arms stretching as she hung there. In time,
first her shoulders ached and then her arms. Leaning back rested the top of her
head against unyielding stone, and letting it hang forward stretched the
muscles in her already aching neck. Her legs felt free, but when she tried to
move them, she realized they were secured, too.

Despite
twisting and turning, Delilah found no relief from her discomfort, and her
muscle fatigue brought pain. Tears welled in her eyes, and even though she
tried to remain calm, her breathing became quick and labored.
What did I do?
Did Volos work for the princess?

The sack
over her head allowed no light to enter, and in the pitch black, she had no
means of keeping track of time apart from the dripping water. She was aware of
how dry her throat was, as well as her need to relieve herself, an urge brought
to the forefront by the incessant drip-drip-drip.

Kale. Kale,
hear me!
Delilah heard stories of twins who shared an almost psychic
mental connection. Reaching out to her brother in her mind was an act of
desperation, and Delilah was grateful no one could see her blush in
embarrassment. Often she empathized with her brother, and sometimes they
finished each other's sentences when their minds were on the same track, but
she never thought they had a psychic connection.

At any rate,
she didn't hear back from Kale. The muscles in her arms and shoulders trembled
from fatigue. Delilah felt as if her arms would pop out of their sockets.
Knives of fire sliced the muscles in her shoulder, and she felt her tears
soaking into the sackcloth around her neck.

The door
opened. She heard a group of people approaching, as well as one pair of what
sounded like hooves on stone. She lifted her head in hope.
Pancras?

"As you
can see, we have one of your draks." The voice belonged to Princess
Valene. "I know you are plotting something with my husband, Pancras. I
also know threatening your life will have no effect. So, I offer you this: the
truth for the life of this drak. Tell me what you're plotting, or I will kill
Delilah."

* * *

It pained
Pancras to see Delilah hanging from the wall in shackles. A guard stood near
the drak, his spear pointed at her chest. Princess Valene crossed her arms and
awaited his response, Lady Milena by her side.

Pancras
licked his lips. Reaching up, he rubbed his right horn, prompting the guards
around him to raise their spears. Lady Milena gestured for them to stand down.
"First, I will have you know I hold you in the highest regard, and it was
never my intention to bring harm to you. I would like to know if you have
mistreated my friend in any way before I answer."

"Fair
enough. I will show you, because I like you." Princess Valene gestured to
the guard nearest Delilah. He pulled the sack off the drak's head. Delilah
blinked her eyes. Dark lines stained her cheeks where tears had fallen, but she
looked otherwise uninjured. Straps wrapped around her mouth muzzled her.
A
wise precaution
.

Delilah's
eyes followed him as he paced the room, as did the spears of the guards.
"You may not want everyone to know what I am about to tell you, Highness.
If you doubt the loyalty of anyone in this room, you may wish to send them
away."

Princess
Valene considered Pancras's words. Her eyes flicked to Lady Milena and then to
Pancras. "Very well. Guards, leave us. Lady Milena will protect me."
The guards hesitated until Lady Milena nodded her assent.

Pancras
waited until the guards were gone and Lady Milena closed and locked the door
behind them. He approached Delilah and laid his hand on her cheek. Her eyes
pleaded with him. It didn't matter to him if she wanted him to stay silent and
sacrifice her or tell the truth to relieve her suffering. He couldn't bear to
contribute to her pain.

"Your
husband's deal with me was this: my freedom, and that of the draks, in exchange
for a hex to render you barren." He sighed, letting his hand slip away
from Delilah's cheek. He turned to face the princess, to look her in the eye.
"I have been stalling for a few weeks now, trying to develop a way to make
it look like that's what I was doing but without bringing any actual harm to
you."

"Indeed?"
Princess Valene clasped her hands behind her back. Her emerald eyes flashed in
the dim light as she looked up at Pancras. "I am to believe this?"

"You
asked for the truth. He seeks legitimate grounds for divorce, grounds that will
enable him to remain in power and seek a new wife, one who is more… open to his
advances."

Lady Milena
jerked her head up, looking over at the princess. "Do you think—"

"Silence!"
Princess Valene paced, her lips moving in silent thought. "A mistress,
were she made public, would cause him to forfeit his wealth." She stopped
and eyed Pancras. "What is your plan?"

Pancras
shuffled his hooves and looked down at the ground. "I don't have one
yet."

"We
need to force him to show his hand, to reveal his plot. No one will believe the
testimony of one minotaur, and an outsider at that." Lady Milena stepped
alongside Princess Valene and took her hands. The princess pulled them away
from Milena and shook her head.

"I
could confront him, in front of the court." Pancras didn't like the
thought of sticking his neck out, but he didn't see any other options at the
moment. "He'd likely order my death right then and there. I want
protection."

"Some
of the Royal Guards are more loyal to me than to him."

Lady Milena
nodded. "I could ensure all who served that day were loyal to you."

Pancras
glanced at Delilah. "Do you suppose you could release Delilah? I will
cooperate with you fully. I swear on my life I will."

Princess
Valene resumed her pacing. "Very well. Milena, help him."

Lady Milena
and Pancras worked at freeing Delilah from her restraints. She whimpered as
Pancras moved her arms to free them from the wall.

"His
reaction would be key. He is not a man of even temperament, and it is unlikely
he could control his reaction to an extent that would conceal his true
mind."

Pancras
knelt down and removed Delilah's muzzle. She threw her arms around his neck and
hugged him. She whispered, her voice hoarse and ragged, and Pancras was unable
understand what she said. "I've found it impossible to rely on what you
think someone's reaction will be."

"I
could tell my guards to watch him closely. See if he has already chosen a
mistress to replace you, Highness." Lady Milena untied the restraints
securing Delilah's feet.

"I
doubt he'd be foolish enough to keep her in the palace. If he leaves, however,
it would be best if you would attempt to put a loyal man on his retinue of
guards."

Taking
Delilah's hand in his, Pancras looked into her eyes. "I am so sorry this
happened. I tried to keep you and your brother uninvolved. You weren't supposed
to get hurt."

"It was
nothing personal… Delilah, was it?”

The drak
sorceress narrowed her eyes and bared her teeth at the Princess. Pancras
squeezed her shoulder.

Princess
Valene paid no heed to Delilah’s response. “I needed the truth from Pancras. If
you need a healer, one can be arranged." Princess Valene pulled Lady
Milena aside. "Pancras is not to leave the palace until we have arrived at
a solution."

"What?"
He stood up and turned to face the princess. "I may need additional
supplies to continue the ruse."

"Send
your draks to retrieve them. I have a feeling keeping them confined to the
palace is more trouble than it's worth."

"What—"
Delilah's voice was a croak. "What about Dusan and Mirek?"

Princess
Valene cocked her head and then glanced over at Lady Milena.

"The two
guards I assigned to escort the draks into town."

The princess
nodded her understanding. "They won't be needed. I do not believe the
draks will abandon Pancras here." She looked at everyone in the room.
"I needn’t say this, but I will anyway: speak of this to no one. Lady
Milena will be our liaison. I have the utmost faith in her."

Lady Milena
saluted and bowed as Princess Valene left the room. She escorted Pancras and
Delilah out of the dungeon and back up to their living quarters. Delilah tugged
at Pancras's sleeve to get his attention before they opened the doors.

"My
grimoire. I think it was left behind in the sitting room where the guards
captured me."

"Which
one? I can retrieve it for you." Lady Milena dropped to one knee so she
was eye-level with Delilah.

"I'd
prefer to get it myself."

Pancras
understood Delilah’s trepidation in allowing someone else to retrieve the
grimoire for her. Handling powerful books of magic could be dangerous for the
lay person, and there was no guarantee Milena would recognize it for what it
was.

"Very
well. I insist on escorting you. Most of the guards are probably aware you were
taken to the dungeons. Not all will yet be aware that you have been released.
It's safer if I'm with you."

Delilah
hesitated, glancing up at Pancras before exiting. Lady Milena stood and
followed her. Pancras straightened and smoothed his robes before entering the
parlor. Kale, Edric, and Kali sat in a circle in the center of the large rug
playing a dice game. Kale looked up as Pancras entered.

"Is
everything all right? Where's Deli?"

Pancras
jerked his thumb toward the door. "Everything's fine. We just had a minor
emergency. Delilah had to leave her grimoire behind, so she's retrieving it.
She'll be along shortly." To Pancras's relief, Kale accepted the
explanation and didn't inquire further.

By the time
Delilah returned with her grimoire, dinner arrived, and they ate while
listening to Kali and Edric one-upping each other with the outlandishness of
their stories. After dinner, Pancras elected to retire early. He shut his
bedroom door behind him and sorted through all the materials he acquired to
create the cursed fetish for Prince Gavril. It occurred to him that he might be
able to create some sort of protective fetish instead, in case things went
wrong when they confronted the prince about his plot.

Pancras was
familiar with the abjurations required to create such protective objects, and
they were often taught alongside necromancy to protect wizards from the various
evil forces they sought to control. The undead Pancras created were always
mindless, and so less dangerous that intelligent undead, but he still lost
control on occasion, particularly in his youth.