Malediction (Scars of the Sundering Book 1)

by Hans Cummings

  Kale skidded to a stop as they rounded the corner, pulled Kali, then Delilah around and pushing them behind him. He inhaled, and as the ghoul loped into view, he unleashed a gout of flame into its face. The ghoul screeched a high-pitched wail, falling to the ground and clawing at the inferno covering its head. Kale continued exhaling fire, covering the ghoul in flames until he could exhale no more. The ghoul scratched and clawed at the flames, ripping and peeling away blistering, burning flesh in ragged strips.

  The ghoul's rotted flesh sizzled and popped, and its wail of anguish trailed off. It stopped moving but continued to burn. Kale put his hands on his hips and watched. "Ha! Nasty thing."

  He felt someone tap his shoulder.

  "What?" Kale turned around. Delilah and Kali pressed backward against him. The stench of rotting flesh hit him like a punch to the stomach, and he fought the urge to vomit. Beyond them, he saw dozens of glowing red eyes in the darkness. A translucent pea-green shape emerged, a human knight wearing battered armor, holding a spear, and ragged stumps where his legs should be. He lifted the visor on his helm. His left eye glowed in the darkness. The right was nothing but a jagged hole.

  The apparition pointed his spear at the three draks and said something in a language Kale didn't understand. Behind him, the ghouls hissed in response and charged.

  * * *

  Pancras closed the Codex of Passion and returned it to his satchel. Satisfied he acquired all the information from it useful for his purpose, he pulled on his heaviest robes and stepped outside. The night sky was clear but cold, and a strong breeze sculpted the snow on the ground into gentle drifts. The light of the waning moons cast a cool glow on the city. The Eye of Tinian, a hazy blue, oval-shaped formation with red-tinged edges rose in the sky, a reminder that the king of the gods was ever watchful, even when his wife, the Earth Mother was covered in snow and ice.

  "Taking an evening stroll?" Princess Valene joined him at the wall, her ever-present goblet steaming in the chilly, night air. Covering her floor-length, shamrock-colored gown, she wore a heavy, fur-lined, red overcoat. The light of the King and Queen reflected off the jewels dangling from her ears.

  "I do not often come up here at night, but Gavril is being particularly annoying this evening, and I had to get away. Are your companions too much for you to handle tonight, as well?"

  Pancras chuckled and shook his head. "No, I just wanted to get some fresh air. Drak-Anor is mostly underground, so I don't get to see the night sky often. I sometimes forget to stop and look at the world around me."

  "My husband doesn't actually value your services, you know. If it were up to him, he'd run all the draks and minotaurs out of the city."

  Princess Valene didn't reveal anything he didn't already know. He was curious, however, where she was headed with her commentary. He brushed snow off the top of the wall and leaned on it, gazing out over the city. In the stillness of the winter night, it was possible to hear the songs of minstrels playing in nearby taverns, although the sound was so faint the words were unintelligible.

  "You might do well to tell me what he's planning. What are you working on, Pancras?"

  So that's your game. He smiled and looked down, hiding his expression from her. "I can't say."

  "Can't or won't?"

  "Does it matter?" He turned his head to face the Princess. The corners of her eyes crinkled as she sipped from her goblet. He felt she knew he would not betray his oath to Prince Gavril but decided to try anyway. "I don't want to earn a reputation for being untrustworthy by not being able to keep delicate matters confidential."

  "Of course not. However"—she set her goblet on the top of the wall and wrapped her arms around her for warmth—"you may be the first necromancer I've ever heard of who is worried about his reputation."

  "Well, I haven't practiced necromancy, per se, in nearly a decade." He turned around and leaned against the wall, using his elbows for support. Princess Valene stood next to him, sipping from her goblet before leaning on the wall.

  "Why not? Did you get an attack of conscience? Did you accidentally create a ghost or apparition of some sort from a close friend?"

  "I never did that, even when I was active. I always felt free-willed undead were an abomination. I only animated skeletons to help me in my lab, and only then from volunteers. Sometimes, I'd create zombies if we needed them for a battle, but they stunk up the place too much for my taste. I like a clean workspace."

  Princess Valene threw her head back and laughed. "You are quite fastidious for a minotaur." She rubbed his sleeve between her fingers. "And, you seem to bathe more regularly than other minotaurs I’ve encountered."

  "Thank you." He bowed his head.

  "Who would volunteer to have their skeleton animated? Are the people in Drak-Anor that restless?"

  "Dutiful minotaurs who felt proud to continue contributing to the well-being of the city after death. But, after Drak-Anor established formal relations with Celtangate and Ironkrag, I felt it was inappropriate. We'd driven off the oroqs, and enough lives were lost doing so, it seemed… disrespectful." He tapped his hoof against the bottom of the wall and sighed. "I felt like I didn't have a place there anymore, but my friends convinced me otherwise."

  "So you learned different magic."

  "I didn't have to learn much. I was a generalist before I took up necromancy. Some of my techniques were a little rusty, but I always dabbled in alchemy, even when I regularly practiced necromancy. Of course, I was helping with the administration of the city, so I didn't have to use much magic for that at all. Politics is dull. Er, no offense."

  "None taken." She touched his arm and smiled. "I find it dull, too." She drained her goblet and sighed. "My parents sent me down here to marry Gavril to seal a political alliance neither one of them has ever taken advantage of. I love our children dearly, but that man… he's"—she looked down and laughed—"never mind. I should not speak of such things with you."

  She shivered and tucked her goblet in one of her coat pockets. She put her hand around Pancras's arm and looked up in his eyes. "I hope whatever you're doing for Gavril does not put you in conflict with me or anyone I respect. It would be a shame for us to become enemies."

  "It would indeed."

  "Good night, Pancras. Sleep well."

  "You as well, Your Highness."

  Chapter 15

  "Get behind me!" Kale jumped in front of his sister and Kali as the ghouls charged. He didn't know how frequently he could breathe fire, but incinerating a pack of ghouls before they ate him seemed like a good time to find out. He felt the fire within him as he inhaled, and he unleashed a torrent of dragonfire. The corridor ahead of him filled with an inferno as the ghouls burst into flame. Their high-pitched wails of agony were deafening, and the corridor filled with greasy, black smoke.

  "Synnefotone shifone!" A swirl of azure energy surrounded Delilah as she shouted, and by the strap on his bandoleer, she pulled her brother alongside her. A cloud of flashing, swirling blades manifested between the draks and the pack of ghouls. With a thought, Delilah sent them hurtling into the inferno.

  The apparition howled in rage as the blades passed through its body. It advanced on the three draks, leaving its minions to burn in the conflagration. Delilah was unsure if she knew any magic that could dispatch a non-corporeal entity, so she followed Kale and Kali's lead when they turned and ran.

  An aura of cold surrounded the apparition, and Delilah’s breath came in puffs of fog as she ran. The ancient ghost's screams of rage and fury followed her as it gave chase.

  "We need to get away from this thing!" She felt unhelpful stating the obvious but hoped Kali would have some sort of plan since she seemed familiar with the catacombs under the city.

  Kali paused long enough to open a door, pulling Kale inside. She slammed it shut as Delilah passed through. "I'm open to suggestions!"

  That was not what Delilah wanted to hear. "Great. How do we kill something that doesn't have a body and is already dead?"

&nb
sp; She pointed her staff at the door as the arms and head of the apparition appeared. Desperate for inspiration, she glanced around the room. It was small, cramped, and the only other real feature was a stone sarcophagus in the center of the room. She herded Kale and Kali to the far side of it.

  "I was hoping you had a plan bringing us in here, Kali. This is a dead end." Neither the blades she conjured nor Kale's dragonfire seemed to have an effect on the ghost. The room was too small in which to throw a fireball at it, and she was almost out of options. This is what I get for concentrating so much on fire and conjurer's tricks.

  "I don't think you should say 'dead' when we have a ghost chasing us, Deli."

  The ghost pushed its way through the door, smiling a jagged-toothed grin when it saw the three draks were cornered. Delilah wracked her brain, for something to do, anything. Maybe I can distract it.

  She leveled her staff and pointed the skull at the apparition. "Kalee'steen enoch leetiké goyna!" The azure tendrils swirled together, forming a furry ball with legs and teeth. With a pop a boggin appeared. It was not a glowing blue boggin she used for carrying messages, but rather a real, flesh-and-blood boggin, conjured out of the air by her sorcery. She continued gathering threads of magic, and more boggins appeared on the floor and on the cover of the sarcophagus. They hopped from foot to foot and yipped, the rows of sharp teeth in their mouths clicking together in anticipation.

  "Boggins?" Kali's voice strained. "Are you planning to feed it?"

  As if on cue, the boggins snarled and sprang toward the apparition. They leapt to attack, passing through the sickly olive mist of its body. The ghost stabbed with its spear, impaling one of the boggins. It shuddered and squealed as its fur changed from black to grey and its body became gaunt and withered. Two other boggins leapt toward the desiccated husk and tore it apart. The ghost turned away from the draks and stabbed another boggin as the rest of the pack continued leaping at it and snapping their teeth as they passed through it.

  "Run!" Delilah ran around the sarcophagus and threw open the door. She hesitated, looking both ways to see if ghouls approached.

  "Right, go right!"

  Heeding Kali's instructions, Delilah ran to the right. The yipping of the boggins and screams of the ghost faded as she ran. Within moments, both Kali and Kale caught up to the sorceress. "Do you know where we're going?"

  "Yes! Keep going, three more niches and then left. After that, look for an open grate in the floor."

  Kali took the lead and ran toward the grate. From the odor, Delilah knew it led nowhere she wanted to go.

  "Get in!"

  Kale grimaced and pinched his nose. "Down there? Does stink repel ghosts?"

  "Don't be a baby!" Kali dropped to the floor and disappeared into the grate.

  "We should've stayed in the palace tonight, Kale." Delilah cast a furtive glance down the corridor whence they came, searching for signs of the ghost. A screeching wail told her it was on the move again.

  Kale dove headfirst into the grate. Delilah swallowed her reluctance and followed. The short drop from the grate jolted her tailbone and then turned into a slimy slide. Her staff provided scant illumination as she scrabbled against the rock and tried to control her descent. The slide emptied into a cistern, and she flew through the air, landing in the water near Kale. Hitting the cold pond was like slamming into a brick wall. She sank, the foul-smelling liquid filling her nose and mouth. Delilah kicked and swam up, spitting and coughing when her head broke through the surface.

  Iron rungs set into the wall led back up to the catacomb slide. Kale and Kali paddled toward a corridor on the far side of the cistern. Delilah swam to join them, relieved when she felt packed earth beneath her feet. In the corridor, the water covered the floor to a depth of a few inches.

  "Are we anywhere near where we're supposed to be?" She wrung out one of the hairy fetishes on her harness, and then she removed her dripping cloak to wring it out as well. Delilah shivered and feared her bones might snap from the violent tremors. Kale made a sour face, coughed and spit into the cistern.

  Kali looked around the corridor for a moment and counted off something on her fingers as she made some mental calculations. "No, but I think I can get us back on track. I wasn't counting on an undead infestation."

  "I thought Pancras said there weren't more undead in the catacombs, Deli."

  Delilah bit her lip and nodded. Pancras indeed said that, but he also said he couldn't be sure. Her eyes widened when she realized he fell asleep with the gilded tips covering his horns.

  "I'll bet he necromatized in his sleep again."

  "Necro… what?" Kali look at Delilah and then at Kale, her brow furrowed in confusion.

  Kale rubbed the back of his neck. "Pancras has been having bad dreams lately, I guess. He might've animated some undead accidentally in his sleep, but I thought he wasn't wearing his focus anymore when he slept, Deli?"

  "He forgot to take off the golden tips from his horns when we dozed this afternoon."

  "Wait, wait." Kali held up her hands to silence the twins. "Are you telling me your minotaur friend created these undead?"

  Delilah pursed her lips and looked at her brother. It didn't seem fair to blame Pancras since they weren't sure that's what happened.

  "Maybe." The twins answered together.

  Kali covered her eyes with her hand and shook her head. "Let's just get to the mines and do what we came down here for. Maybe that thing will stay up in the catacombs."

  That suggestion suited Delilah fine. She put aside her worry about returning to the palace and concentrated on the task at hand. She knew she would have better luck dealing with slavers than with a vengeful ghost.

  * * *

  The route by which Kali led Kale and Delilah to the salt mines was circuitous and took far longer than she intended. Although, Kale didn't know how much time they spent in the sewers, it seemed like they spent half the night tromping through near freezing waters. By the time they reached drier corridors, both Kali and Delilah were shivering hard enough to make their teeth chatter. He tried holding both of them close while they proceeded, but they kept tripping over each other's feet.

  Soon, the deep, rhythmic pounding of the mine echoed in the dark. In a way, it reminded Kale of home. In Drak-Anor, someone was always digging to expand or renovate. The dormant volcano in which they lived contained no precious stones, per se, but digging through the hardened lava required many of the same tools. Recent trade agreements with the dwarves brought many new tools and techniques to Drak-Anor, and the draks and minotaurs were finally able to fully expresses themselves in their architecture as they built their homes.

  The air was thick and almost briny; yet, the stench of refuse from the water through which they waded clung to the fur linings of their cloaks. Kale was certain his sense of smell was permanently tainted by the odor.

  Kali held up her hand, indicating they should stop. She crouched low to the floor and peeked around the corner and then waved Kale and Delilah forward. She stopped Delilah before she turned the corner.

  "Kill that light."

  Delilah extinguished her staff, and together with Kale, crept forward behind Kali. Ahead, there was a wooden walkway with a railing attached at about the height of a drak's head. The tunnel in which they stood formed a three-way junction with the corridor. Kali dropped to her stomach and belly-crawled forward until she could look over the edge of the walkway, signaling for Kale and Delilah to join her.

  The pathway overlooked a cavernous, white-walled chamber, and it attached to the wall near the ceiling. Below them, Kale spotted workers pushing carts laden with white blocks to and fro. The cavern was illuminated by translucent stones set in sconces similar to the lighting in the palace. Thin, wispy clouds clung like puffs of cotton to the ceiling of the cavern. Kale tasted the salt in the air.

  Kali pointed toward the left. The catwalk angled down and led to a set of steps. She motioned for Kale and Delilah to fall in behind her. The three draks followed
it around the side of the cavern, down the stairs, and into a corridor carved into the rock. The surface of the stone felt gritty beneath Kale's feet and under his fingers as he ran them along the walls. Fine white powder clung to the scales of his fingers. He licked one of them clean. Salt.

  With tool alcoves and storage rooms regularly spaced along the corridor, the three draks found it easy to hide from patrolling guards and workers as they made their way deeper into the mine. They found their way to an antechamber off the main cavern in which half-a-dozen orange-scaled draks chipped away at the rock with hammers and chisels and picks. Kale was surprised how closely their scale colors resembled Kali's. The draks digging were crusted in a layer of salt, their scales dull and cracked where Kali's were shiny, smooth, and supple. They were thin, on the verge of starvation, and their breaths came in ragged gasps.

  One of the older draks spotted them. His eyes lit up, even as Kali held her finger up to her lips to quiet him. She pulled him over to their hiding spot.

  "Kali? Is that you?"

  "Father!" She pulled the old drak into a tight hug. "I've come for you. Where are the others?"

  "It is not safe. You should not be here, you should not have brought—" He glanced at Kale and Delilah. Then, as if noticing their stripes for the first time, his eyes widened, and he dropped to his knees. "These are your allies?" He prostrated himself before Kale and Delilah.

  Kale coughed and shuffled his feet. He looked away as Kali helped the old drak stand up . Delilah studied a chip in the wall, scraping at it with her claw and tasting the salt. "This is Kale and Delilah… I… I forgot their clan name—"

  "Windsinger." Kale smiled and waved at the old drak. He averted his eyes and lowered his head.