Salvation (Scars of the Sundering Book 3)

by Hans Cummings

  “How you’ve grown. So sweet. Delicious.” The demon reached toward him.

  Pancras stood on a grassy plain. He was bare chested, and only a kilt covered his lower half. Thanos lay on the ground before him, his chestnut fur slick with sweat. He beckoned to the wizard.

  “Come on, then. Ready for another go?”

  The minotaur wizard smiled. Seeing Thanos waiting for him always warmed his heart. He fell to his knees and crawled toward his lover. Before him, as he approached Thanos, he saw his withered hand. Bits of grass and dirt clung to it as he touched the ground. He paused and examined his hand, flexing it. It cracked like old, dry leather as his fingers bent.

  “Pancras? Don’t keep me waiting.”

  Thanos smiled, but beneath the surface, Pancras felt another presence. He pushed himself to his feet. His lover’s smile faded and transformed into a snarl as he launched himself at Pancras.

  In midair, Thanos transformed into a winged beast with the decaying, rotten head of rabid dog. Its jaws snapped shut just short of the minotaur’s face, its claws dug into his arms as it pushed Pancras to the ground. He gripped the shaft of Shatterskull in his hand and brought the maul around, slamming it into the demon’s head.

  Its skin sizzled and popped where the sanctified weapon touched it, burning the image of Aita’s skull into its flesh. The demon howled in pain, falling backward and clawing at its face as it tried to excise the painful wound.

  Pancras the Bonelord stood, holding Shatterskull before him. “I defeated you once, demon. I shall do so again.”

  Through growling hisses, the demon laughed. “No, no, you have never defeated me.”

  “Then let this be the first time.” Pancras swung his maul.

  The demon caught the weapon by the shaft and snarled, “You burn with Aita’s power, and so you will win this fight. Have the human. I will be waiting for you, in your world. You know where to find us.”

  Lord Tyron’s ethereal form rubbed the back of his head as he regarded his own body before he turned to face Pancras.

  “Damn. Am I dead?” He examined his hand and then scratched his beard. “It doesn’t hurt.”

  “You’re not dead, yet, but very nearly so.”

  Tyron glanced first at the minotaur and then at the two of them on the floor. “Wait, what are you doing there? Here? Are you a wizard of some sort? A mystic? Heal me, you great beast!”

  Pancras lifted Shatterskull, showing the skull of Aita to Lord Tyron. “I am a bonelord. I cannot heal you. But you have an opportunity to tell me what is going on. Perhaps Aita will have mercy on you.”

  “That… thing… I saw you struggle with it.” Lord Tyron covered his eyes and groaned. “It was inside me. I saw myself do things. I heard myself say things, but it wasn’t me. It wasn’t me.”

  “You were possessed by a demon.” Pancras offered the man his hand. He could help him on his journey to the next life.

  “I knew that woman who came to me was too good to be true.” Lord Tyron shook his head. “Damn. She promised me an heir. Swore by Tinian she wanted nothing more than to provide me with a strong child.”

  “There isn’t much time, Lord Tyron. I need information.”

  Lord Tyron looked at Pancras. No, he looked through Pancras. “I see the next world. You killed me. You’ll get nothing from me.”

  The human faded from sight. Pancras inhaled sharply and opened his eyes. The bleeding stopped. Lord Tyron was dead.

  “Pancras?” Gisella knelt next to him. “What did you learn?”

  He let the Golden Slayer help him to his feet. The fiendling sat next to the instruments at the far side of the pool, plucking discordant notes on the lyre.

  “There was a demon in him. It seduced him and then took his body.”

  Orion’s knuckles turned white as his grip tightened on his spear. “Are there more? Is the entire Council of Lords compromised?”

  “I don’t know. He wouldn’t give me any more information. I fought with the demon, and it fled”—Pancras reflected on the demon’s revelation that he’d know where it went; however, the only place that came to mind, the only place that was a constant in all this—“to Zamora, I think.”

  The Justicar spat on the floor. “The Lich Queen.”

  Gisella loosened her hair tie and shook her head, allowing her golden locks to fall around her shoulders. “We need to see if anyone else on the Council of Lords is possessed.”

  “How?” Orion regarded her. “Ask them to flash us their burning red eyes? Throw salt at them?”

  Pancras chuckled. “I wonder if that would actually work.”

  Gisella pointed across the pool. “Qaliah. She knew in an instant what Lord Tyron was.”

  At the sound of her name, the fiendling looked up. “Don’t go making plans for me without my say-so.”

  “Then come over here and be part of the conversation.” Pancras flipped Shatterskull, whose top no longer glowed as the skull of Aita, and set it head-first on the floor.

  The fiendling flicked her tail and set down the lyre. She picked up the horn and joined them on the other side of the pond. “I’m not keen on exposing myself to more demons.”

  “I thought you were fearless.” Pancras noted her trembling.

  Qaliah flashed her icy blue eyes at him. “It’s not fear.” She clenched her teeth. “I could feel it. I wanted it.”

  She hugged herself and turned away. “I’m not ashamed when I want a man for the night. But this… I needed this like I needed air.”

  “It calls to you, a primal urge.” Orion put his hand on the fiendling’s shoulder. “You are strong to have resisted.”

  Qaliah shivered. “Let’s just go. I need to leave this place.”

  Chapter 18

  After a thorough search of the manor house, which turned up nothing of use, Orion waited with Qaliah near the estate’s main gate. Gisella and Pancras instructed Lord Tyron’s servants to take his body to the Red Crypt, and they departed together. The two women returned to the Palace of Justice to brief Lord Fenwick on the situation at Lord Tyron’s estate. Meanwhile, Orion accompanied Pancras to the Arcane University so the minotaur wizard could recuperate from his encounter with the demonic entity that had possessed the human noble.

  Lord Fenwick insisted the two women join him in a drink and relax before relaying their tale. Qaliah’s hands still trembled as she took the goblet of wine, and it was only after draining two goblets in a row did the visible tension release from her shoulders.

  “So, what transpired, exactly? Something terrible by the way our friend was shaking.” Fenwick gestured with his goblet toward the fiendling.

  Gisella sat in one of the armchairs in Fenwick’s chambers and crossed her legs. “Lord Tyron was possessed by a demon. Pancras was able to confront it and drive it from the man after Tyron was mortally wounded.”

  “Unfortunate that he had to die.” Fenwick hid his smile in his goblet. “I’m sure someone will miss him.”

  Qaliah giggled. “I didn’t.”

  The Golden Slayer frowned and cleared her throat. “We feel it is likely his decrees came from the demon, a way of ensuring the undead could leave the city unhindered.”

  “Did he say anything? Did you find any evidence?”

  Gisella sipped her wine and shook her head. “Nothing to link him or the demon to the Lich Queen.”

  Fenwick steepled his fingers in front of him. “So, we’re left with no hard evidence and more circumstantial evidence that points toward a convergence of sorts at Zamora?”

  “So, it seems.”

  “Damn. I won’t be able to convince the king to commit troops without hard evidence. Even if I call in all my favors, and he owes me more than a few.”

  “Has your scout reported anything yet?” Gisella finished her glass of wine and shook her head when Fenwick offered her more.

  “No, I haven’t had a chance to speak to Valora yet. I’ve sent a messenger to the dwarf settlement, so hopefully she knows I have a request for he
r.”

  Qaliah accepted another refill. She swirled the wine in her glass. “I need to ask you something, and I’d appreciate a straight answer.”

  Gisella’s heart stopped, and she turned to regard the fiendling as a feeling of dread washed over her.

  “Certainly!” Raising his eyebrows, Lord Blackthorne eyed the fiendling.

  “Is something going on between the two of you? Because I don’t intend to sleep alone tonight after what I just went through.”

  Gisella felt her cheeks grow hot, and she buried her face in her hands. “What the in the name of Tinian’s lance is wrong with you?”

  “Hey! I told you how being in proximity to that demon made me feel. The Lord Justice here is a decent sort, so figured if I’m going to bed anyone tonight, it ought to be someone like him, right?” Qaliah tossed back her goblet of wine and stood. Her tail swayed from side to side as she approached Lord Fenwick with a predatory smile on her lips.

  Fenwick chuckled and set his own wine goblet on his desk. He took Qaliah’s hands as she moved to throw them around his neck and held them down at her sides. “I am truly flattered. Your attentions would be most welcome were I not involved with… someone.”

  “It’s the dwarf, isn’t it?” Qaliah winked at him. She leaned in close, dropping her voice to a whisper. “I won’t tell. Fine!” Qaliah released Fenwick and spun away, laughing. “I’ll find myself another righteous fellow.”

  She skipped out of Fenwick’s chambers, leaving Gisella alone with the Lord Justice. The Golden Slayer stood and bowed, crossing her hand over her heart. “I am truly sorry for that. She had a trying experience with Lord Tyron.”

  Fenwick laughed and held up his hands. “Think nothing of it.” He nodded toward the open door. “I think you should catch up to her though, maybe try to keep her out of trouble.”

  Gisella grunted an acknowledgement and bade farewell to Fenwick. In truth, Gisella acknowledged the Lord Justice as an attractive man, but for Qaliah to proposition him openly in the company of others was improper, to say the least. Clearly, the fiendling was more shaken than she let on. Gisella found Qaliah wandering down the grand staircase, giggling and skipping about.

  She felt a pang of jealousy toward the fiendling’s spirit. Usually, Gisella, unopposed to finding comfort in someone’s arms, found a night spent in pleasure a good way to celebrate or relax after a trying day, but she deliberately suppressed thoughts of carnal pursuit when she left Muncifer. Whatever surprises this trip held, she intended not to be distracted by involving her emotions where someone else was concerned. Spending time with a lover always carried with it the risk of becoming too attached.

  Maybe the fiendling doesn’t have that problem. She thought back to the on-again, off-again lovers she left in Muncifer. She hoped they would find that which they sought. Gisella always suspected they viewed her more as a prize than a true partner, anyway.

  She caught up with Qaliah as the fiendling left the Palace of Justice. She took her arm just in time to keep her from stumbling down the steps. “Maybe we should return to the Screeching Griffon. You imbibed quite a bit of wine just now.”

  “Imbided, imbibbed, I wanna be bedded.” Qaliah hugged her arm and gazed up at Gisella. “But you aren’t going to do that for me, are you, Blondie?”

  The odor of wine pervading Qaliah’s breath convinced Gisella not to permit anyone to take advantage of the fiendling. She didn’t want to find her bleeding out in an alley later that night.

  “Let’s go to the Bastion of Bliss.”

  “Oh, sounds good.” Qaliah giggled. “What is it?”

  Gisella smiled. The Ritual of Renewal is just what she needs. “It’ll be better than some random man you’ll drag in off the street. I promise.”

  ***

  “How hard can it be to find pictures of runes?” Delilah fought the urge to toss the ancient book to the ground. She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly as she closed the cover and slid it onto the shelf, spine first.

  “I’ve learned more about boggin mating habits than I ever knew had been studied.” Alysha turned another gilded page.

  “This one”—Katka held up a book whose frayed cover threatened imminent disintegration—“is about hog husbandry. Maybe I should take it to my parents.”

  Delilah looked over her shoulder toward the Runes of Selene. “Maybe I should just activate the damn thing and press random sequences.”

  Alysha cocked an eyebrow. “I think that would be extraordinarily bad. You could open a portal to the Void Realm.”

  “That does sound bad.” Delilah made a mental note to research the Void Realm the next time she visited the library.

  “Wasn’t your brother supposed to get food?” Katka closed the book and placed it on the shelf, spine first. She rubbed her stomach. “I’m sure it’s getting late. My stomach says so.”

  “I’ll check on him.” Delilah stomped up the stairs and entered her brother’s living quarters. She found neither Kale nor Kali, so she went to the front of the shop. Darkness crept in through the front window, yet Ori hunched over his desk, illuminating, by the light of several candles, the manuscript before him.

  “Where’s my brother?”

  “Oh, Archmage!” Ori gasped and fell off his stool. He jumped to his feet. “I didn’t… oh, they went to get more food. Kali said she didn’t have enough to feed all of us and two humans, too.”

  Delilah’s stomach grumbled. “Yeah, I guess they do eat more, huh? All right, well, I hope they hurry up. We’re hungry.”

  She returned to the door, noticing, only after she opened the concealed panel, that Ori followed her.

  “Oh, would you like help? Kale said you were looking through books.”

  “Thank you, no.” Ori stumbling around on the stairs with all those ancient tomes sounded like an awful idea. “Besides, I think the Frost Queen is tiring of so many draks around here.”

  Ori did not see through her lie and backed away. “Oh, I don’t want to upset the Frost Queen.”

  “Hey, you can do me a favor, though.”

  “Oh? Yes? Anything for you, Archmage Delilah.” Ori clasped his hands, his eyes growing wide.

  “Keep an eye on my brother, huh? He’s going to end up on his butt in the street if he doesn’t pay more attention to his mate.”

  “Oh. Yes, I will.” From his tone, Delilah surmised it wasn’t the kind of favor for which he had hoped. She offered him a quick smile before returning to the two humans below.

  Katka looked up when Delilah returned. “Wizard needs food, badly.”

  “They didn’t have enough, so they had to go out.” Delilah picked up the next book in sequence. The flowing script immediately identified it as Elvish. Delilah leafed through it, searching for any patterns that resembled the runes on the circle. She saw nothing and handed the book to Alysha.

  “Can you read Elvish?”

  The Frost Queen opened the book, flipped through the pages, and shook her head. “Never had the opportunity to learn.” She returned the text to Delilah. “Not many elves come down to the Southern Watch. They think it’s too cold.”

  “It is.”

  “I can read Elvish.” Katka reached toward Delilah. The archmage handed the tome to her. Her apprentice scanned the first few pages. “Wow, it’s a translation of the Chronicles of Bethany the Wise. I didn’t know the elves… oh, this is interesting!” She read from the text.

  “And so did the scaled people flee the oppression of the Kings of the Seven Kingdoms to dwell under the fiery mountain. Their flight was in vain, as another dwelt there and bound them to his servitude. Toil, blood, and flame awaited them, and thus they dwelt in rivers of lava—”

  “Hey, I’ve heard that.” Delilah hopped up a step to peer over Katka’s shoulder and into the book. The words still made no sense to her. “That sounds like what the elders used to tell us about how we, the draks, I mean, came to Drak-Anor. Of course, it wasn’t called that then.”

  “Sounds delightful.” Alysha picked
up another book.

  Delilah scratched her head. “Who are the Kings of the Seven Kingdoms?”

  “After The Sundering, what civilization remained broke down, and warlords seized power. There were probably more than seven kingdoms, but it’s not as poetic to say ‘Seven Kingdoms, a Duchy, two empires, and six city-states.’” Katka closed the book and handed it to Delilah to return to the shelf.

  “Not to mention, the Chronicles of Bethany the Wise are notorious for only acknowledging the existence of Andelosia, or what remained of it at that time.” Alysha chuckled and swapped the tome she perused for another. “All the world’s ills, including The Sundering, were blamed on the people across the sea, demons, or the lands beyond the Western Wastes.”

  “Human wizards caused The Sundering when they killed Rannos Dragonsire.” Kale stood at the top of the steps. Delilah hadn’t heard him return.

  Katka looked up, her eyes wide. “Food? Tell me you have food!”

  The winged drak nodded and jerked a clawed thumb behind him. “There’s food. Kali was a bit put-out, Archmage Delilah.”

  The archmage pursed her lips and took his arm as she ascended the stairs. “What’s with the formality, Kale?”

  “I don’t want trouble, Archmage Delilah. You wizards come in here, making demands, telling me what to do in my own house—”

  “Get over yourself, Wingy.” Alysha patted him on the head as she passed the pair. “Consider our use of your splendid library the price you pay for running off my dragon. At least I didn’t flay the flesh from your bones.”

  Kale stopped and glared at the human woman’s back as she proceeded toward the kitchen.

  “I don’t think she can do that, Kale.” Katka smiled at him as she followed Alysha.

  “I know you were just trying to help, Kale.” Delilah turned her brother to face her. “I was angry, and rightly so. Losing the dragon messed up my plans. We’ll figure things out. I appreciate your help. Do I need to talk to Kali?”

  “No, I can handle it.” He squirmed away from her and spread his wings to block the hallway as he moved, leaving her and Ori to bring up the rear. Ori shoved the door to the cellar stairs shut as he passed.