Malediction (Scars of the Sundering Book 1)

by Hans Cummings

  Edric looked up at Pancras and grinned. "I'm guessing that bloodmaw beast didn't like the meal I gave it."

  Dirt fell from the ceiling and smacked Pancras in the head. He shook it off and continued forward. The ground beneath his hooves became harder. He tapped his hoof against the ground. The surface felt like metal.

  "Eww! Pancras, the wall is furry!" Kale recoiled from the wall, bumping into his friend. The minotaur stumbled into the opposite wall with a squish.

  He pulled away, bits of the wall sticking to his robes. "We're close to the rift. See its effect on the environment?"

  The tunnel grew brighter, and they followed it until they found themselves standing in small chamber, which at its center stood a glowing slash. Closer inspection revealed it was a pulsing, writhing river of light, swirling, coruscating, and hovering about a drak's height from the floor.

  The floor beneath the rift bubbled and churned, as if the metal were boiling, but Pancras did not feel heat from the seemingly molten metal. He found it difficult to look directly at it, though he felt it tugging and pulling at his eyes. Dozens of shadowy tendrils rose like smoke out of the fissure and pierced the ceiling of the chamber. A thick fleshy column descended from the ceiling into the heart of the pulsing light.

  "There! The bloodmaw is still connected to the rift." Pancras stood before the swirling miasma and gathered threads of magical energy. He spread his arms, looking over his shoulder at Kale and Edric. "I'm going to close it. Whatever happens, you must make sure nothing interrupts me."

  Kale drew two daggers. "What happens to the bloodmaw if you close the rift while it's still in it?"

  "It might be cut in half. It might be ejected all together."

  "Ejected?" Edric stood next to Kale and adjusted his grip on his sword. "On our side or the other?"

  "Yes." Pancras moved his hands in the complex patterns of the ritual required. Sealing the rift should be like sealing any other magical portal… I just hope I have strength enough left to do it. He chanted under his breath, allowing the volume of his voice to rise with the power of the magic. "Stenee pyealee, stenee pyealee…"

  * * *

  As Kale listened to the minotaur's chanting, he wished his sister could be with them. Deli would burninate anything that attacked us right now! He flipped one of his daggers in the air, catching it by the handle.

  Edric gripped the hilt of his sword with nervous energy. The dwarf muttered to himself. "Should've stayed at the pub. Never deal with this stuff at the bottom of a bottle. Warm beds, happy whores, maybe get a job, pay off my debts, but not this. Never this."

  The air crackled with energy. Kale surveyed the room. The walls seemed to undulate and pulse, but he wasn't sure if that was an effect of the energy in the air or if the walls actually moved. What little he understood about raw chaos made him wish Pancras would hurry.

  Gelatinous sludge squished between his toes. Kale looked down to see the floor oozing up around his feet. Yelping, he danced around, shaking the goo off them. One of the walls erupted in a shower of blood and ichor, swirling toward the rift like a tornado.

  "You have to stop him, Kale."

  Kale stopped and gasped when he saw who spoke. It was his twin sister, Delilah. Her crimson and ebony scales appeared dull and ashen in the sickly light of the rift. She leaned on her skull-topped staff and flashed her eyes at him, smiling.

  "Come, Kale," Delilah held her arm out for him. "Let's leave this nasty place. Come away with me."

  Kale looked back at Pancras. The necromancer gave no indication he saw or heard her. It sounds like Deli… but it doesn't. He stepped toward her. She put her arm around him and hugged him close, her muzzle tickling his ear.

  "It ain't real!"

  Deli jerked back as Edric pulled on her arm, hacking at it with his sword. She squealed as the dwarf sliced through skin and bone, black ichor spewing from the ragged stump.

  "Deli!" Kale lunged toward Edric.

  The dwarf caught Kale's arm just as the drak stabbed at him with a dagger. "I told you, it ain't real. Look!"

  Kale's attention wavered just enough for him to see Delilah dissolve into a tentacle that retracted into the wall. He shuddered and pushed Edric away. Two more tentacles shot out of the wall headed for Pancras. With a shout, Kale leapt toward them, slashing with his daggers.

  Tentacles from the ceiling snagged Edric. The dwarf cursed and slashed at them with his sword. Each slash met with a splash of ichor, like grease bursting from plump sausages. One of the tentacles wrapped around Kale's ankle, hoisting him into the air.

  Slashing at the tentacle which held him, Kale felt his dagger draw a line of burning fire across his leg. He cursed at his clumsiness and then screamed when the tentacle flicked him like a bit of mud on a shoe. He sailed through the air into the rift.

  Kale's world burst into flashes of green, yellow, and silver. He spun, wheeling through eternity in a realm where up and down were the same as left and right. He could see the flavor of ripe apples and roasted meat. Opening his mouth to cry out, Kale found he could only smell the sound of Pancras's chanting.

  Through to the other side of the rift he sailed, and as he crashed into a metallic wall, Kale's world went dark.

  * * *

  Pancras realized Kale was in trouble when he caught a glimpse of the little drak dangling by his ankle but knew if he helped his friend, the magic he manipulated to seal the rift would be ruined and he would have to start over.

  He repeated the words, continuously, pouring every bit of arcane energy he could gather into the rift. "Stenee pyealee, stenee pyealee." He was uncertain the ritual would work. His experience with magical portals was limited to his knowledge of the one in Drak-Anor. With the help of Delilah, he spent the last several years studying it off and on, and although he never tried to close it, he was confident he understood the theory behind the process, a theory he had, until now, not tested.

  Kale sailed past him through the air and into the rift. Pancras's heart skipped a beat, and willed himself to concentrate on the task at hand. If Kale was inside the rift when he sealed it, he would be trapped in the elemental chaos for eternity. He realized, however, leaving the rift open was far more dangerous to more than just one drak. It pained him to admit it, but closing the rift was worth the life of one drak or even all three of them.

  The air crackled as lighting arced across the room. The kaleidoscopic colors caused Pancras's head to ache. He saw no sign of Kale but noticed Edric struggling with a veritable forest of toothed, suckered tentacles. Pancras felt the portal weaken. Its connection with the Mortal Realm was tenuous, at best, and with the magic he wove around it, that connection diminished further.

  As the wispy tendrils of shadowy smoke coalesced into a familiar, frightening demonic form, Pancras redoubled his efforts and ended the ritual. "STENEE PYEALEE!"

  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 clap
ped 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.