Salvation (Scars of the Sundering Book 3)

by Hans Cummings

  The minotaur’s head spun. Air. Need air.

  He stood and sprinted for one of the archways leading outside… only to slam into an invisible barrier. The impact knocked him backward, and he crashed into a desk, sinking to rest on the floor. Pancras groaned and held his snout.

  “There, now. It’s not bad. True, we’ve not had a drak archmage in an age, but the high wizards seem to think highly of her. The first archmage was a drak, you know.” The old man offered a hand to help Pancras to his feet. The minotaur gripped it, but he succeeded only in dragging the headmaster to the floor with him.

  “Whoo! I’m not as young as I used to be, eh?” He sat alongside Pancras and elbowed him in the ribs. “You really hate draks, eh? Or is it worse?”

  “It’s worse.” Pancras chuckled. “I don’t hate draks at all. She… uh… she and I left Drak-Anor together nearly a year ago to deal with this guild business. They sent me here and kept her there.” He told Headmaster Lewin about their official status as potential renegades and how, despite Delilah’s years of experience, Vilkan deemed her no more skilled than an initiate.

  “I never liked him anyway.” Lewin sighed and rubbed his neck as he regarded Pancras. “Damn guild politics. Some folk are always meddling in affairs they’ve no business being in.”

  “I wonder… strange how events unfold.” Pancras shook his head. The shadow demon that had infected him might have been more successful had he not traveled to Almeria and Vlorey. This whole journey… a waste. I died to get here. I must return to Muncifer. His mind raced. He felt tremendous pressure at the base of his skull and kneaded the muscles of his neck in an attempt to alleviate the pain. No. No, death brought me closer to Aita. Gave me purpose. Delilah can take care of herself. Aita wants me to be here, to help Gisella.

  “Hmm?”

  “Oh, nothing.” Pancras waved his hand. “Idle thoughts. You said you had another position?”

  Lewin pulled himself to his feet and approached one of the desks. “Indeed. How are your alchemy skills?”

  The minotaur followed the old man as he proceeded from desk to desk, shuffling through papers. “Since I gave up necromancy, it is my preferred discipline.”

  “Excellent.” Lewin held up a stack of papers and thrust them at Pancras. “As I said, our alchemy master’s health is failing. You can fill in for him. These should tell you all you need to know about his teaching schedule. Also, I need a deputy headmaster. Someone who knows the current archmage might prove quite advantageous.” He chuckled and grinned, revealing stained teeth to Pancras.

  The minotaur shuffled through the papers the headmaster handed him. “Adjunct alchemy master and deputy headmaster? Yes, I think that will do nicely.”

  ***

  “Katka, I need you!” Delilah grunted and pulled against the bookcase, but it tilted rather than slid, as was her intention. She noticed the outline of a door behind the bookcase, but she lacked the strength to move the heavy wooden furniture, even after removing all the tomes, treatises, and bric-a-brac.

  Her human apprentice sped into the room, tripping over one of the stacks of books. She sprawled onto the floor as she sent books flying.

  “Careful.”

  “Did this guy keep everything?” Katka brushed herself off, wincing as she inspected a fresh abrasion on her elbow. After straightening the sleeve of her robe, she retied the ribbon that kept her hair off her face.

  “Everything except Pyraclannaseous’s treasure, it seems.”

  Katka chewed on one of her fingernails. “Maybe she didn’t have treasure.”

  Delilah turned and faced her apprentice. “A dragon with no treasure? Impossible. Come here and help me with this.”

  Together, they heaved, but the bookcase didn’t budge. It moved a fraction more than Delilah had managed alone, and she caught a glint of metal behind the case.

  “Hang on, there’s something…” She reached behind the bookcase, but felt nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Damn it!” Delilah withdrew her arm. She pointed at the gap. “You have long arms… well, longer than mine. There’s something back there.”

  Katka reached behind the bookcase. “I got it.” She stuck her tongue between her teeth as she pulled. “I can’t…” She stopped and clicked her fingers. “Wait.”

  The human raced to the opposite side of the bookcase and ran her hands along the side. She whooped in victory when she reached the bottom. She stood and pointed toward the floor. “A latch!” She moved it with her toe. They heard a click, and the wall and bookcase swung toward them, revealing a spiral staircase.

  Archmage Delilah stuck her head through the opening. “Huh. I wondered how to access the upper levels.”

  “What’s up there?” Katka held the glowing tip of her wand ahead of her as she advanced into the stairwell. Cobwebs as numerous as the steps corkscrewed upward, like silken buttresses. The two mages left footprints in the thick layer of dust covering each step.

  “Do you think the archmage left any traps or anything like that up here?”

  Delilah ran a finger through the dust on the steps. “I hoped the treasure was hidden up here, but I don’t think Manless entered this level in years. He might not have even known about it.”

  “He lived in this tower. How could he not know about it?” Katka stopped before a door at the top of the steps. “Maybe he levitated up here so he wouldn’t get dust all over him.”

  “I doubt it.” Delilah pulled Katka’s illuminated wand closer to the door’s handle. She didn’t see any sort of locking mechanism. She reached for the handle.

  “Master!” Katka caught Delilah’s hand. “Perhaps I should—”

  The drak sorceress scowled and shook her head. She depressed the lever and pushed open the door.

  “You know, Manless probably would have made his apprentice open that.”

  “Yeah, well, if there’s something really dangerous that needs doing, then I’ll have you do it.” Delilah entered the upper chamber. The dust covering the floor lay just as thick as it had in the stairwell. Beneath a trapdoor set in the ceiling, a ladder leaned against the wall. The drak noticed the floor sloped slightly toward the edges, creating a slight dome over the room below it. Outdoor light entered through thin windows set high on the walls and through small holes near the floor.

  To the left of the ladder sat a table covered in broken alchemy equipment. Shards of glass glittered in the light of Katka’s wand. Against the opposite wall stood a table upon which sat open-top boxes. Delilah, too short to reach or see into them, directed Katka to investigate.

  “Looks like junk.” The apprentice pulled the boxes toward her and examined each in turn. “No, wait. Bones, dried leaves… is this tea? Could be divination implements.”

  “So, this is just some old wizard’s laboratory?” Delilah snorted with disgust. There has to be more here. Why hide the door?

  “Looks like.”

  The drak continued to examine the room while her apprentice provided light. A third desk had been pushed against the wall near the door through which they entered. Delilah didn’t see any chairs in the laboratory, so she pulled open the desk drawers, improvising a stepstool, to inspect the top of the desk, bare, except for a blanket of dust. However, she noticed the depth of the top drawer sat at discord to its front panel. She removed it and set it on the ground.

  “Oh, I’ll bet it has a secret compartment.” Katka leaned in closer with her light.

  “I think you’re right.” Delilah nodded. A quick examination revealed a latch to release the panel covering the hollow underneath it. All those years building traps with Kale paid off. She removed the false bottom and discarded it, revealing an object wrapped in dirty, ragged cloth. When she picked it up, the fabric disintegrated, exposing a dark red, truncated square pyramid. The symbol inscribed in the base seemed familiar to Delilah, but the drak couldn’t place it.

  “Is that a rock?”

  Delilah shrugged and held it in the light. “It’s made of rock. It se
ems familiar.”

  “I’ve never seen anything like it. Maybe one of the high wizards can identify it.”

  “Maybe.” The archmage glanced around the room one last time. She didn’t see anything else of interest, so she gestured for her apprentice to follow her down the stairs. They pushed the bookcase into place behind them. Delilah placed the odd stone in one of her pouches as they resumed sorting through Vilkan’s belongings. When she tired of cleaning, Delilah called it a day and followed Katka to the Enchanter’s Focus for dinner. The Court of Wizardry convened the next day, and she had a feeling she would appreciate a relaxing evening beforehand.

  ***

  Kale lay in bed, wide awake, staring at the ceiling. His mate’s arm draped over his chest, and on this night, the steady sound of her breathing did nothing to alleviate his anxiety. After he wiggled out from under her arm, he rolled out of bed and picked up his puzzle box. He took it into the kitchen and set it on the table before he poured himself a mug of ale and sat in front of it. Once situated, he lit a candle to illuminate the workings of the puzzle box.

  The drak had unlocked the first two of sides repeatedly, and he could accomplish those in his sleep. With each sequence, the gears whirred, moving the delicate clockwork components inside. With Kali’s help, he had solved the remaining sides that stymied him, except for the last.

  Once he unlocked the fifth side, Kale turned the box and peered into the sixth. The panel that kept the gears hidden slid away, and through the various cutouts and brass cages, he studied the mechanism. He noticed a tiny lever just inside one of the holes.

  Kale poked a claw through and applied pressure to the lever. It clicked, and another panel inside retracted. When he removed his claw, the lever snapped into place and the panel returned to its original position. Again, he pushed down the lever. This time, he held it in place.

  Behind the interior panel appeared another clockwork mechanism. Using his free hand, he moved the candle to better illuminate the area he examined. He spotted a second lever behind the interior panel, but he could not reach it with his claw. Keeping pressure on the first lever, Kale fumbled in his pouch until he found one of his lockpicks. He used it to press the second lever. He detected sufficient resistance that he suspected it, too, was spring-loaded.

  A globe inside the mechanism spun, revealing a flat disc inside it. He removed his lockpick and his claw, causing the entire apparatus to reset. He removed a second lockpick from his pouch and held it between his teeth as he repeated the sequence. Once the flat disc again revealed itself, Kale pushed the third lockpick through the brass cage, grunting as his snout pressed against the side of the puzzle box and prevented him from reaching the disc.

  As he huffed in frustration, he noticed the plate wobble. The drak furrowed his brow and struggled to steady his hands as he withdrew the instrument with his teeth. Kale opened his mouth and allowed it to fall to the table. Then he blew at the disc.

  It spun and flashed. Kale jumped backward, dropping his tool and releasing his hold on both levers. With a snap-hiss, the puzzle box shuddered, and the gears and clockwork mechanisms activated. The sides of the box unlocked and unfolded, revealing its center.

  A shiny orb hovered above the concave top of a truncated cone. Colors played across its silvery-grey surface as flickering candlelight reflected off it. Stepping around the table, Kale peered at the sphere from all angles. Perfectly smooth, and although it appeared to be composed of metal, it also behaved like a liquid.

  After returning to his chair, he picked up his lockpicks and poked the orb. Ripples propagated across its surface, spreading around the globe in ever-diminishing waves. He again pushed against it with the lockpick, deforming the surface, but he could not submerge the thin piece of metal into the orb.

  He set the lockpick on the table and reached toward the silvery ball. The head of a snarling dragon flashed before him and vanished as quickly as it appeared. He glanced around the room; his kitchen remained unchanged. Kale reached for the orb a second time. The room vanished, and Kale stood before a cliff. The world rumbled, and the cliff split as a torrent of water rushed through.

  Kale yelped and fell backward, overturning his chair as he tumbled to the floor. Again, he found no evidence he’d left his home or that anything unusual occurred anywhere around him. He rubbed the base of his neck as he continued his examination of the strange object. How does it stay up? Obviously, magic of some sort. What is it? Quicksilver? Deli would know… no. This is mine. Terrakaptis gave it to me. She got her stupid book.

  The drak frowned, climbed to his feet, and put away his tools. Then he moved the candle away from the puzzle box. In the diminished light, the orb took on an unusual sheen that reminded Kale of platinum. He pulled himself forward and rested his head on his hands as he stared at it. The longer he stared, the more the surface of the sphere shimmered, shifted, and undulated. Kale extended a clawed finger.

  Another flash. In the scene that flickered before him, the world crumbled. Tens of thousands of deaths occurred in the blink of an eye. A great storm raged between a pair of mile-high cliffs, obscuring their landscape in its roiling black clouds. The drak pushed his claw against the object, finally piercing its surface.

  The orb enveloped his hand in a steel grip. He jerked away, but it clung around his hand like a glob of molten metal. Molten, yet cold as ice. A bright flash blinded him, and when his vision cleared, his home was gone.

  Chapter 10

  That night, the Golden Slayer caught up with Pancras and Qaliah at The Screeching Griffon. Pancras filled her in on his appointment as deputy headmaster and adjunct alchemy master at the Arcane University. Neither needed to ask Qaliah how she spent her day. Her glassy-eyed expression and slurred speech communicated volumes.

  “I worked my way out from the inn.” She pointed at Gisella and Pancras as she swayed in her seat. “I can tell you which of the ten closest taverns have nothing but swill, which don’t serve my kind, and which have the best ale.”

  “Truly, we are fortunate to have such an attentive information gatherer.” Pancras chuckled into his mead. Gisella appreciated the high-quality brew served at The Screeching Griffon, but she missed the mead from back home. She suspected the water gathered from melting snows by the brewers in the Four Watches was purer than that which people in Vlorey obtained.

  The Ritual of Renewal occupied most of Gisella’s morning and afternoon. Some might say she wasted the day in frivolous pleasure; however, she felt closer to Aurora and more relaxed than since having departed Muncifer. Even the fiendling’s prattling about the quality of alcohol and men in the various nearby taverns amused rather than irritated her. She rubbed the golden seashell of Aurora that hung from her neck. It felt appropriate to wear the symbol openly after her Renewal.

  “We should get on task tomorrow, if we can.” Gisella leaned back to allow the server to place a platter laden with an herb-stuffed fish gazing upward from a bed of wilted greens and colorful vegetables on their table. Qaliah eyed the staring fish, and her ebony skin paled.

  Pancras turned her toward the door. “Go outside if you’re about to pay Pacha for your excesses.”

  “How could this be upsetting?” Gisella carved a flank of fish for herself. “This smells and looks better than what we had on the ship.”

  Qaliah stifled a belch. “I wasn’t drunk then.”

  “I had to explain my arm more times than I cared to today. Tomorrow, I have to teach my first class in the morning and will no doubt have to tell the story again and again. However, I should have most of the afternoon free to make some inquiries. I’ll need to move my possessions from here to my quarters at the university anyway.” Pancras piled food high on a plate and shoved it in front of Qaliah. The fiendling leaned back in her chair and looked away.

  “Ah, yes.” Gisella bowed her head and smiled. “Not quite what the archmage had in mind, is it?”

  The minotaur laughed. “I got so caught up with our inebriated friend, I almost forgot. M
anless is dead.”

  Holding a forkful of vegetables partway to her mouth, Gisella glanced at Pancras. “What?”

  “He was challenged to the Rite of Combat and lost. There’s a new archmage. You’ll never guess who it is.”

  “Oh! Oh!” Qaliah shoved the plate of food away from her and waved her hand in the air. “Is it that old bitch? What was her name? You know, Blondie, the one that was always chasing me away from the Blood Oak?”

  The memory of the old woman running after Qaliah shouting threats brought a smile to Gisella’s face, despite the fiendling’s use of the nickname she disliked. “Master Agata. Funny, she’d be my first guess, as well.”

  Pancras swallowed and shook his head. “No, but she’s headmaster now. The new archmage split the positions. She didn’t want to run the university and the guild.”

  Gisella racked her brain, but could not think of any mage at the Arcane University who would choose the guild over academia. I wonder if Grímar actually brought my sister in? “Was it a mage from the south? Alysha?”

  The minotaur furrowed his brow. “No. It’s Delilah.”

  “Oh.” Gisella continued chewing until what Pancras said registered. “Wait… Del… the drak you came with?”

  Qaliah hooted with laughter. “Old Manless laid low by a drak? Anetha had a hand in that, I’ll bet. Praise the Lady of Justice!”

  The Golden Slayer concurred. After all the injustices Vilkan Icebreaker visited upon the draks of Muncifer, it was indeed just that he met his end at one of their hands. “He always lacked respect for self-taught mages.”

  “I have to say”—Pancras washed down his food with a sip of mead—“I knew she was powerful, but I never foresaw this. And now she’s archmage. She rescinded the decrees about self-taught renegades and delinquent dues, by the way.”

  Gisella’s thoughts turned once again to poor Grímar chasing after her sister in the frozen reaches of the Southern Watch. She didn’t envy his task and wished there was some way to notify him that his mission was now in vain. If Alysha decides to play nice and return with him to Muncifer, she’s going to be very angry. Her wrath could bring down a mountain.