Malediction (Scars of the Sundering Book 1)

by Hans Cummings

  The fair weather continued, and within a few days, the trees and hills of the borderlands gave way to the plains of Etrunia. The road on which they traveled would take them straight to the gates of Almeria, the Etrunian capitol, and from there, Pancras would decide whether to travel overland to Muncifer or follow the more circuitous trade route.

  For now, that decision could wait. Pangs of hunger twisted the minotaur’s stomach, and the further they walked, the more his thoughts turned to food. Edric, as it turned out, was a decent scrounger and trapper. Kale and Delilah were quite experienced in hunting cave lizards in the deep underground caverns beneath Drak-Anor, so they enjoyed fresh fare almost every night.

  Two days out of Bramblevale Keep, Delilah pointed toward the eastern horizon. "What's that over there?" The mid-morning sun passed behind a puffy cloud, casting dark shadows over the landscape. Pancras squinted and peered in the direction Delilah pointed.

  Four spires rose from the plains, silhouetted against the azure sky. A thin wisp of smoke rose from between the spires, thinning as it made its way higher and higher until it vanished.

  "A shrine of some sort, perhaps? There's a fire." Pancras thought it was most likely a lone traveler stopped to rest there. Shrines to the lesser-worshipped deities dotted the landscape; Dolios in particular was worshipped mostly from road-side shrines.

  Delilah stepped off the road and advanced toward the spires. "Let's check it out. It's not that far away."

  "We don't have time for this!" Pancras, stopped, exasperated. In truth, the shrine, or whatever it was, was not far enough away to significantly delay them, but myriad things could happen between the road and that shrine.

  Kale beamed at Pancras and then ran after his sister. Pancras looked at Edric for support, but the dwarf bolted after the draks. Pancras's hands dropped to his sides. Letting out an exaggerated sigh, he trotted after them.

  Each stone spire stood as high as Pancras's head. They were arranged around a central boulder with a large bronze disk embedded in its surface. The disk featured a bas-relief of a curly-haired, bearded man drinking from a wine goblet. A tarnished brass bowl was attached to the boulder just below the disk. Nearby, a fire crackled and popped. A hooded man knelt in front of the shrine, paying his respects to Dolios, Lord of Language, Commerce, and Travel.

  The man looked up as the draks, dwarf, and minotaur approached him. His eyes fixed on the drak twins and Pancras, and he stood, eyes wide. He backed up, hands held high in front of him, narrowly avoiding tripping over the fire.

  "No, no, no!" He stumbled, then turned, and ran, screaming. "Don't kill me!"

  Pancras, his mouth agape, watched the man flee. Delilah huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not sure whether I should be relieved he didn't attack us or offended that he ran."

  Edric shook his head and tossed a coin into the shrine's collection bowl. The bowl rang like a bell as the coin bounced into it. "Surfacers."

  Sniffing the air, Kale giggled. "Maybe the dwarf-stink made him take off."

  "Drak teeth and minotaur horns, more like!" Edric wheeled around and scowled at Kale.

  Pancras shook his head. "Let's just leave an offering and go. There are still several hours of good daylight." The frightened man was out of sight. Pancras did not want to risk him returning with hostility in his heart, or worse, returning with a pack of humans ready to end a perceived-threat to travelers in Etrunia.

  "What do we leave?" Kale patted the pouches on his belt, searching for something appropriate.

  "Just toss a coin or two in there." Edric touched the bas relief and then stepped away from the shrine.

  Kale pulled a dull golden coin from a pouch and tossed it in the bowl. It rattled around for a moment. "I hope that's enough. It'll bring us good luck, right?"

  Pancras snorted. "Sure, if you think Dolios really cares about two draks, a minotaur, and a dwarf making a journey to Muncifer."

  "I'm a gambler." Edric looked over his shoulder as he marched toward the road. "Dolios looks after my kind."

  Following behind Edric, Pancras overhead Delilah whisper to her brother, "Yeah, that's why he got kicked out of Ironkrag."

  * * *

  As the rain poured down, Delilah wondered what the point was of leaving an offering for the god of travelers seeking good fortune. For the last three days the rain fell from the sky nonstop, a deluge of damp sadness that greyed out the sky and sun and transformed all but the rockiest parts of the road into a muddy morass. Edric bought oilcloth cloaks for them from a trader caravan a day down the road from Bramblevale Keep, but even those provided scant protection from the downpour.

  At the moment Delilah hated mud between her toes, almost as much as she hated Dolios and Tinian and all the gods that controlled the weather. As they trudged along the road, Delilah entertained scenarios in her mind in which she met each of the weather-affecting gods in turn and compelled them slog for days in a cold downpour.

  Kale's chipper attitude in the rain did not help Delilah's outlook. Even as she stood shivering, Kale reminded her he felt comfortable. The only glimmer of joy she found was that the dwarf resembled a drowned rat. His beard clumped together in strands, and he stopped every few hours to wring it out. Still, Edric uttered no word of complaint, and Delilah looked to Pancras to share her misery.

  His cloak was not quite large enough to cover him. The minotaur shuffled with slumped shoulders, as though the rain-soaked robes he wore were weighted down with all the world's worries. Water dripped from his snout as he moved forward like an automaton, and Delilah was no longer certain that being covered up in this dreadful weather was beneficial.

  Nighttime in the rain was worse than day, when at least walking helped keep the cold from seeping into their bones. By the fourth day, no one spoke; it took too much effort and distracted them from concentrating on ignoring their misery.

  That afternoon, pinpoints of light appeared on the horizon and remained there as they continued following the road. Pancras perked up and stepped up the pace, leading them onward.

  "Finally! Do you see it?" Pancras pointed toward the outline of a building which appeared from the mist. Delilah wiped the rain from her eyes and squinted, trying to make out details.

  "Is that a farm?"

  Edric looked back at her. "It's an inn, lass. We've reached the river."

  "At last, a reprieve from this gods'-cursed rain!" Pancras trotted toward the inn. "We're almost halfway to Almeria now!"

  The inn was a blocky, two-story, L-shaped building. A separate structure sat across a central plaza and served as stables. Delilah observed two carts in front of the stables and a man dashing toward the main building, his head ducked and covered under a long coat. Torches flanking the doors sputtered and smoked in the rain. A sign flapped in the wind above the door, its rusty hinges creaking in protest. Delilah did not understand the writing on it. She figured it was written in either the common trade language or an Etrunian dialect, neither of which she had learned to read while she practiced speaking the trade language with Pancras.

  The din of conversation was audible through the mullioned windows, although the constant noise of water falling, pooling, splashing, and running drowned out intelligible conversation. Pancras stopped in front of the door, and looked back at them, his hand poised over the handle. He nodded and opened the door.

  The aroma of roasted meat mingled with burning wood and sweat from men in heavy woolen cloaks. The hearth crackled and sputtered at one end of the room. A frail man with the barest wisps of hair stood bent over, tending the fire. Opposite the hearth, was a long bar built from sturdy oak. A younger, lanky man stood behind the bar, his head turning to regard the newcomers.

  As the four travelers entered the inn, the myriad conversations halted. Heads turned, and Delilah felt dozens of eyes staring, judging. She smelled their fear.

  The man behind the bar swallowed and placed the mug he had been cleaning on the bar. He gripped the edge of the bar with white-knuckled hands. "Y
our kind ain't welcome here. We don't want any trouble."

  "That's good," Pancras pulled out a small bag from his pouch and tossed it up and down in his hand to emphasize the coins inside. "We're not looking for trouble, just shelter. As to our kind, you would turn away paying customers?"

  Pancras was more diplomatic than Delilah would have been. She felt like torching the whole building just for their attitude. Then again, her way would have them sleeping out in the rain again. The man standing behind the bar scowled and rubbed his chin. He looked around the room, as if looking to the other patrons for advice.

  "The dwarf can have a room. The rest of ya’s stay in the stable."

  Delilah huffed and tapped the butt of her staff on the floor. "We're not animals, you stupid, skinny, son-of-a-bitch!"

  The barkeep glanced at her, confusion on his face. Delilah's outburst had been in Drak, and it was obvious he had no idea what she said. Pancras understood her, though, and placed a hand on her shoulder.

  "We are emissaries from Drak-Anor, on our way to Muncifer." Pancras spoke slowly, as if to a child. "We do not wish special treatment, just the same accommodations any other patron of this fine establishment enjoys. We want rooms with beds, and we will want to eat hot meals. It is cold outside. We're just travelers, like everyone else here, I suspect."

  "You'll kill us in the night!" One of the disheveled men shouted from across the room. "You'll suck the marrow from our bones!"

  Fire burned in Delilah's belly. Her thoughts turned toward summoning a swarm of boggins to devour the rude man. The small furry balls of teeth and hate would make short work of him and everyone else in the room. Pancras squeezed her shoulder.

  "We are neither oroqs nor ogres. We don't eat people."

  Her brother leaned in close and spoke out of the side of his mouth. "Bargle does." Delilah kicked him but was glad Kale's whisper was in Drak.

  A younger man, seated alone near the bar, cleared his throat. "Let them stay, Josef."

  "Quiet, Ivan. They're beasts. They should stay with the beasts." The barkeep spit on the floor for emphasis.

  "They're customers, with money. I took a caravan up to Drak-Anor last year. Remember? The old ways are changing." He pushed his chair away from the table and stood. "I'll give up my room if I must."

  Josef looked down at his bar and shook his head. "I can't put your wife out in the rain. She's with child. It's not right."

  "Exactly. Josef, it's going to be a harsh winter." Ivan stepped up to the bar and placed his hand on the barkeep's arm. "Don't turn away the coin."

  The older man shook his head. "Fine." He wrinkled his nose, the corners of his mouth turned downward at the dripping-wet travelers. "Let's see this money. I'm not taking any of your scrip."

  * * *

  Kale watched as Pancras dropped a handful of coins into the barkeep's outstretched hands. Relieved to be near a source of hot nourishment, his stomach rumbled as the aromas of roasting meat wafted across the room. The constant rain made building a fire outside difficult, if not impossible, and although he never felt as uncomfortable in the wet cold as everyone else seemed to be, it would be nice to be indoors once again.

  Ivan pulled extra chairs to his table and beckoned for the travelers to join him as he sat. Kale took Delilah by the arm and motioned for her sit next to him. Edric sat between Delilah and Ivan, and Pancras took the seat on the other side of Kale between him and the human.

  Relieved his sister wasn't looking at him, Kale winced as he sat. The pain in his back transformed into a distinct, localized stabbing sensation by the time they arrived at the inn. He didn't remember hurting his back in the fight against the ghouls or the shadow demon. Kale worried the pain could be related to his passing through the chaos rift rather than from hitting the wall.

  He focused on maintaining a neutral expression as the innkeeper brought a round of ale to their table.

  "Can't believe I'm reduced to taking money from draks and minotaurs to make it through the winter." He sat the tray down on the table hard enough to slosh frothy ale over the sides of the mugs.

  Delilah grabbed a mug. "Then don't take our money and serve us for free."

  "Our money spends just as well as money from humans." Pancras slid several silver talons toward the innkeeper.

  Ivan distributed the rest of the ale to Edric and Kale. "You mentioned you were travelers? From where? Do you have any news?"

  "No news. We're from Drak-Anor heading to Muncifer on business." Pancras brought the mug of ale up to his mouth and sniffed it before taking a sip. "I confess, I am a little curious if you've even heard of Drak-Anor?"

  Ivan nodded. "Heard of, yes, but we don't hear much. It's in the mountains, right? Near Ironkrag? I've never been that far away from home. We heard it used to be a fiery demon's lair, full of torture and other evil things like that and that some hero came by and freed all the slaves." He raised his eyebrows as he looked around the table at Pancras and the drak twins. "The stories didn't say the slaves were all minotaurs, draks, and dwarves, though."

  Delilah laughed and retorted. Kale nudged her, spilling her ale. She glared at him as she shook ale off her fingers.

  Taking a long swig of his ale, Edric smacked his lips and wiped froth from his mouth. "My people fought with them all the time, and even we don't hear such piles of horse shit."

  Pancras tapped his finger on the table. "Tales often grow in scope and nature the further from the source they're told. It would be more accurate to say that we draks and minotaurs of Drak-Anor threw down our own oppressors. We trade with Ironkrag and Celtangate now, so don't believe everything you hear."

  A beanpole woman delivered a steaming kettle to the table and tossed half a dozen bowls at them. "Eat up. The rabbit's fresh from today." She turned and left. Kale heard her mutter under her breath. "Probably."

  Kale stood on his chair and peered into the bowl. It was a thick brown sludge with hunks of meat and white and orange vegetables in it. He grabbed a bowl from the table and plunged it into the kettle and then passed the bowl to Delilah. She took the bowl from him and handed him an empty one. He got a bowl for himself and slid the stack of empty bowls to Pancras.

  Ivan snapped his fingers to capture Josef's attention. "Bread? Spoons? Anything?"

  Kale didn't bother to wait for bread or spoons. He picked up his bowl and slurped the stew down. He didn't know if the meat was rabbit, like the woman said, but didn't know what a rabbit was anyway. Kale was surprised the stew didn't seem hot to him, despite the steaming drifting up from the kettle.

  "Slow down, Kale." Delilah grabbed his arm. "You can't be that hungry."

  "I am!" Kale scarfed down a second bowl. As he reached to refill his bowl a third time, he noticed his hands trembling. Heat rushed to his head, and the food in his stomach felt like piles of wet clay. Pushing himself away from the table, Kale lost his balance and fell backward. As Delilah and Pancras stood to help him, Kale scrambled away and ran out of the inn into the rain.

  Cool rain pelted his skin, turning to steam as the drops beaded up and ran down his arms. He fell to his knees and retched, spewing the now-boiling remains of his dinner onto the ground. Kale felt hands grab him from behind, but with a yelp of pain, he was dropped to the ground again.

  "He's burning up!" The voice belonged to Pancras. Kale shut his eyes and tried to quell the knotting, twisting sensations in his gut. He sensed someone kneeling next to him in the mud and cracked an eye to see Delilah peering at him. The worry etched on her face confirmed that he appeared as horrible as he felt.

  "Here now, I'll not have your plague in this inn." Josef's voice came from behind Kale. "We need our health to get us through winter preparations. Take your vile sickness away from here."

  Kale turned and looked back at the innkeeper. Josef tightly gripped Edric's collar and tossed the dwarf out in the rain. "All of you!"

  * * *

  Pancras removed his cloak and wrapped it around Kale. The stinging rain chilled him to the bone, and he c
ursed the gods for making the outside so miserable. He helped the drak to his feet and pulled him toward the stables.

  "What are we going to do, Pancras?" Delilah followed behind him, and Edric trotted after them.

  "We're staying out here for the night." He paused to pull open the stable door and ushered Delilah and Edric inside before entering with Kale. "We'll continue toward Almeria tomorrow, provided your brother is well enough." Pancras pulled the door closed.

  "You think they'll mind us staying in here?" Edric wrung out his beard. "They all think the drak has some sort of plague."

  Kale coughed and looked up at them. "I feel much better now, really. I'm hungry, though."

  Pancras looked around the stable. The horses shuffled with nervous energy, stomping and snorting, unhappy about these strangers in their midst. The thatched roof kept the rain out, and the patter of the water hitting the roof created a relaxing roar. A flash of light flooded the room, followed by the booming peal of thunder.

  "At least the rain will keep them from following us." Pancras sat down on the ground next to Kale. The rainwater was no longer steaming off the drak.

  "You hope." Edric pulled the door open a crack and peered outside. "If these humans get it in their head we're dangerous, they're going to come after us with torches and pitchforks. Mark my words."

  "We'll leave as soon as the storm lets up a bit. There used to be all sorts of farms and villages along this road. Maybe we'll find another place where we can hole up for a bit and work out a plan." Pancras took his cloak from around Kale's shoulders and shook the rain off it. He folded it in his lap and rubbed the drak's back. He felt two lumps where Kale's shoulder blades were supposed to be.