Delilah approached Ori and licked her lips. The blue drak was hunched over, his snout mere inches from the paper as he traced a thin gold line with a brush that appeared to contain no more than a couple of bristles. She tapped on the floor with the butt of her staff to announce her presence.
Delilah knew if she touched him in any way, it would wreck his concentration. Ori finished drawing the line, laid down his brush, and spun on his stool.
“Oh, Archmage! Are you leaving now?”
“Still waiting for Alysha.” She leaned her staff against the back shelf and stepped closer. “I want to be serious for a moment.”
“Oh, okay.”
Delilah stroked his cheek. “Thank you for all your help. I won’t forget what you’ve done.”
Ori averted his eyes and nodded. “It… it was my pleasure.”
“When I return…”
The blue drak turned his gaze to her and took Delilah’s hand from his cheek. “Oh, please. I want to ask something.”
Ori’s thoughtful and gentle nature appealed to Delilah. He wasn’t quite the opposite of her brother, but he was close. At least he’s responsible. Her stomach tightened with a twinge of guilt at how she manipulated him.
“Sure.” Delilah smiled and kept her hand entwined with his.
“Oh!” His eyebrows shot up as if he had not expected her to agree. “I don’t know what it’s like for draks from Drak-Anor, but where I’m from, we have pretty specific ways of courting desirable females—”
Delilah held her finger up to his lips and fought to keep a smile from devouring her face. “When I return, do what you will.”
She left the blue drak stammering and fumbling with words as she returned to the cellar. Well, Deli-girl, you have to come back now. She packed up the books they’d used to calculate the moon gate coordinates and folded the parchment containing the list of potential destinations Katka and Alysha had compiled before placing it in one of her pouches. By the time she finished, the two women returned.
Katka handed Delilah her grimoire and carried another pack over her shoulder. “I wasn’t sure what all to bring.”
Delilah took her aside as Alysha double-checked her things. “I’ve been thinking; if what Alysha says is true, this trip will be dangerous. I’d feel better with you here. Besides, you can’t really practice and study while we’re on the road.”
Her apprentice’s face drew tight, and she nodded as she stared at the floor. “I understand, Mistress.”
“I want you to keep working with Ori to restore that book and maybe start cataloging this library”—Delilah held up her finger—“only if it doesn’t interfere with your studies. I’m very proud of what we’ve accomplished together. You’re a good friend, Katka, and I couldn’t have done all this without you.”
Katka threw her arms around the drak archmage. “Be careful, please.”
Delilah felt a tear well in her eye. She squeezed the human woman as best she could with her arms full and her head pushing into her apprentice’s chest. “The Lich Queen herself won’t keep me from returning.”
Her apprentice smiled and nodded as she stepped aside. She waited by the stairs while Delilah activated the moon gate.
“Look after Kale for me. He’s a handful.” Delilah glanced up at the Frost Queen. “Let’s go. I didn’t spend this much time saying goodbye before I left Drak-Anor.”
***
Gisella and Valora pushed through the storm and the night, riding without rest until midday when Vlorey appeared at the end of the road. Waterlogged and weary, the Golden Slayer wanted nothing more than to have a bath and go to bed. She resisted the urge to indulge her desire and accompanied the dwarf scout to the Palace of Justice, instead.
Lord Fenwick was indisposed when they arrived, in a meeting with a group of Justicars. Valora led Gisella to the lower levels of the Palace of Justice. “They have their own baths. Now, it’s up to you, but I’m going use this opportunity to get cleaned up.”
Gisella didn’t argue. Attendants cleaned their clothes while they bathed, and they even offered to repair and clean their armor. Valora availed herself of their offer, but Gisella declined, preferring to maintain her mail herself.
“They do good work.” Valora held out her hand and spread her fingers as she inspected them. “Keeps my fingers from getting callused and busted up, too.”
Wafting up from the water, the steam added to the already humid conditions, but Gisella didn’t find it unpleasant. If anything, it made Vlorey’s stifling climate bearable, at least for the duration of her bath. “A Watchmaiden always maintains her own armor. It’s our second skin when we’re out in the world.”
A lesson drilled into her since she was young enough to lift a spear, Gisella usually followed it to the letter. Although if her mail required extensive repairs, she entrusted it to a skilled armorer.
“Now you sound like my clan leader.” Valora pulled herself onto a stool to keep the water from covering her head while she bathed.
Gisella chuckled. “We left Muncifer with a dwarf from Ironkrag. When he learned we were taking a ship from Cliffport to Port-of-Dogs, he complained incessantly and told us to leave him when he was arrested in Curton. He said dwarves and water don’t mix.”
The fiery-haired dwarf dunked her head underwater. When she surfaced, she slicked back her hair and wrung it out. “It’s mixing with me just fine. Did he never bathe? Besides, this isn’t nearly as deep as the ocean. I wouldn’t go out on a ship if you offered me Nethun’s Pearl itself.”
When they finished cleaning off the grime accumulated over a couple days of hard riding, the two women dressed in their freshly cleaned clothes. Gisella donned her armor, but Valora did not as it was still being cleaned and adjusted.
Lord Fenwick’s meeting adjourned, and he awaited them in his chambers. “Ah, you’ve returned! Please tell me everything was a misunderstanding, and there is no army of undead amassing in the south?”
Valora laughed and shook her head as she spread the map across his desk. “No such luck, Fennie.”
He glanced at Gisella when the dwarf used her pet name for him. “A little informal, don’t you think?”
The dwarf glanced first at the Golden Slayer and then at Fenwick. “She already knows. No point being coy anymore.”
“All right, then.” His attention returned to the map. “So, what did you learn?”
They briefed him on what they discovered at the farm and their theories about the undead moving primarily at night. When they finished, he lowered himself into his chair and scratched his beard.
“It’s hard to determine how many undead migrate during each double-dark cycle, but do you think it’s safe to say she’s gathered thousands of undead at this point?”
“In total, yes.” Gisella wished she could determine how many left the city each time. “Probably, they are mostly unintelligent undead, but the remains we found indicated the presence of ghouls, too. It would only take a couple to cause the deaths we found at the farm.”
“You didn’t find the farmer, though? Nor his family?”
“There was a baby…” Gisella shuddered at the memory of the fly-covered crib. “The farmer and any family members who could walk likely joined the undead under the field a night after they were killed.”
“Yes, that’s what occurred during the last war with the Lich Queen.” Fenwick rose and approached the windows, clasping his hands behind his back. “Vlorey and Cardoba bore the brunt of the losses. Tales were told across Andelosia of how fallen soldiers who weren’t sanctified after they died rose up to join the army of the enemy and fought against their former comrades.”
“She’s still gathering her strength.” Gisella slammed her fist on the table. “A small force should be able to get past the undead and destroy her while she’s still weak enough—”
“Past all those?” Valora laughed and rolled up her map. “You’re mad.”
“They ignored Qaliah and me in the village, and we have a bonelord on ou
r side.”
The dwarf woman sat in one of the chairs near the desk, her feet dangling above the floor. “They didn’t ignore those farmers. Once you encounter them again at her lair, they won’t defend their mistress?”
Gisella chewed her lip. “I’m not certain; it takes effort to control them.”
“The bonelord won’t turn?” Fenwick returned to his desk. “He won’t join the Lich Queen?”
“Why would he? Aita herself tasked him with destroying her.” Gisella narrowed her eyes as she watched Fenwick.
The Lord Justice chewed on his lip. “No, I don’t suppose he would. It’s risky, but apart from mobilizing an army and marching on Zamora, I think you’re right.”
“You’ve both gone mad!” Valora threw up her hands. “You want to send some Dolios-cursed fools to Maris’s own dark heart?”
“A mad plan for mad times.” Fenwick rubbed the bridge of his nose and nodded at each woman in turn. “Thank you both for what you’ve done. I won’t decide anything tonight.” He held up his hand to stave off Gisella’s retort. “I know you don’t need my permission to act, but indulge me.”
His acknowledgement of Gisella’s autonomy earned him some points in her eyes. “Very well, what would you have of me?”
“I wish to speak to Conner… um, the king. I don’t need his permission to commit Justicar resources, but if we do this and fail, he needs to know what sort of hornet nest we’re poking.”
Perhaps the king will decide to commit his own resources. “A reasonable precaution.”
“I’ll depart for Verdant Palace tomorrow. There’s no guarantee he’ll see me right away, but I don’t expect to be gone more than three or four days. It’s more than a month to the next double-dark, if I’m remembering correctly, so we should be able to spare that much time, yes?”
His estimate sounded right to Gisella. “It will give me time to prepare. Perhaps the Arcane University has information on Zamora.”
“Good thinking.” Fenwick turned to Valora. “Fancy a trip to see the king?”
The dwarf woman smiled and shook her head. “I should report to my clan leader. Let him know what’s going on.” She shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe he’ll send a couple dozen dwarf warriors.”
Valora gazed at Fenwick, her smile growing, as well as the smoldering desire her eyes. Gisella stood and bowed to the Lord Justice. “Then I shall take my leave of you. If I’m not at my inn when you return, look for me at the Arcane University.”
“Very well. Again, thank you.”
She left Valora to continue her private debriefing with the Lord Justice, closing the doors behind her as she exited. While she and the dwarf brought Lord Fenwick up to date, the sun had set, and the King and Queen had begun their journeys, their bright limbs peeking over the roofs of the city.
In the dark of night, Vlorey became a mysterious, brooding character. Alleys and avenues, shrouded in darkness, waited like cloaked sneak thieves for their marks. Glowing gems placed inside painted parchment lanterns illuminated major intersections, oases of light in the desert of dark. Gisella assumed mages of the Arcane University provided and enchanted the gems and that they illuminated during the day, as well, but were not as noticeable. Guards patrolled the streets carrying torches similarly equipped as the street lights.
As Gisella continued along to the inn she regarded the night sky and smiled. Though, this far north, several unfamiliar constellations filled the sky, and some familiar ones were absent, the King and Queen nevertheless danced their nightly journey across the black sackcloth of the sky, glittering with the light of thousands of jewels. Raucous laughter and singing filled the air as she passed a tavern, fading and becoming part of the background of night as she moved away.
When she arrived at the Screeching Griffon, she discovered on the bed two droopy flowers and a note from Qaliah. The fiendling’s handwriting was blocky, almost dwarf-like it its precision.
Gone to the Arcane University to keep the minotaur out of trouble. He wants to know what you discovered if you’re not too tired.
-Q
Simultaneously surprised and ashamed, Gisella noted that Qaliah’s message was legible and bereft of spelling errors. She had assumed the fiendling was not well educated. Perhaps she learned while indentured to the university. The Golden Slayer purchased a hand pie filled with minced meat and headed again into the city to join her friends at the Arcane University.
Chapter 23
As they surveyed their surroundings from atop the ruined tower, Delilah pondered how Alysha stood the heat while wearing her fur-lined robes. “So, those things keep you comfortable in the heat, as well?”
“Of course.” Alysha bowed. “You’re the archmage. Surely you know magic is good for more than just blasting things you’re angry with?”
Delilah narrowed her eyes and growled. “Yes, I’m not stupid.” Once again, the drak cursed the limitations of her self-taught skills. “Let’s get going. How far do you think it is?”
Alysha shielded her eyes from the sun. It descended toward the western horizon, and a warm breeze blew in from the bay. “If we don’t tarry, I think we can reach the city gates by nightfall.”
Once on the jungle floor, they could no longer see the city, but Delilah noted the twists and turns of the descending stairs. Within an hour, the trees thinned, and the two sorceresses found a road in the clearing.
They kept a jaunty pace, though the well-traveled avenue was choked with mud from a recent rain. As the gates of Vlorey came into view, the sun touched the western horizon, and the lingering, wispy clouds glowed pink and orange, ushering in the night.
After paying an entry tax Alysha decried as robbery, the guards permitted them entry and kindly provided directions to the Arcane University. Delilah quickened her step and noticed the Frost Queen scrambling to keep up as the drak stepped faster and faster. When the desire to see Pancras again finally overwhelmed her, she ran.
Within sight of the university gates, Alysha caught up with her and grabbed her by the arm. “Archmage! With all due respect, show some dignity.”
“Right.” Delilah panted as she caught her breath. Running in Vlorey’s oppressive humidity took a toll. I bet it wouldn’t have bothered Kale. “Because I’m the archmage, and it’s proper.”
She cleared her throat and approached the guards flanking the bridge that led to the university grounds. They crossed halberds and barred her way. “No visitors after dark.”
“Stand aside, I am Archmage Delilah Windsinger, just arrived from Muncifer.”
The guard snickered before erupting with laughter. “You? The archmage? And I suppose the White Witch there is your loyal steed?”
A green flare from Alysha’s staff joined one from Delilah’s. She fought the urge to burn the two men to cinders and instead pulled the Herald Stone from her pouch. “Headmaster Lewin.”
The balding man’s face appeared. “Archmage! This is an unexpected surprise. What can I do for you?”
“Turn around and tell these two louts to let me pass. They’re barring my entry to the Arcane University and mocking me.”
Though the image lacked detail, Delilah noticed the color drain from the headmaster’s face. Dutiful to his archmage, the headmaster’s image rotated to face the men.
“You there! This is Headmaster Lewin. Allow the archmage entry at once!”
Their superior’s voice was enough to stop the men’s laughter. They peered at his image on the Herald Stone and scratched their heads. They had the good sense to fall to their knees as they lowered their halberds and begged forgiveness. Delilah ignored them and strode past with her head held high.
I rather like this archmage thing. I’m going to get used to this. When she reached the other side of the bridge, she stopped a passing student, his arms laden with scrolls. “You there, where’s Pancras?”
She wagered his name would be known around the university, since he was supposed to be a teacher.
The young man licked his lips, his eyes,
like bright beacons in the night, contrasted the deep yellow-brown of his skin. “The deputy headmaster?” He jerked his head toward the angular, curving building in the center of the grounds. “Probably in his quarters or office in the White Tower.”
“Thank you.” Delilah shooed him away.
“You’re enjoying this too much.” Alysha trailed her as she followed the path to the structure. Once inside, the archmage searched for stairs. Finding none, she clenched her jaw and turned to the Frost Queen.
“I don’t suppose you know the trick here?”
Alysha smiled and pointed at the stone disk below the tower’s central shaft. “Oh, I’ve heard stories about this place. If you’d rather not levitate yourself, you can take the Neophyte’s Lift.”
The drak archmage spread her hands. “You want an admission? Fine, I’m not good at levitating stuff. I taught myself, all right? It was easier to figure out how to burn things than how to move them.”
She stepped onto the disk and tapped it with her staff. Alysha joined her and chuckled. “Deputy headmaster’s quarters.”
The disk floated to the second tier. They stepped off and entered the corridor surrounding the central shaft. Alysha pointed at a student walking slowly in the opposite direction, staring at a book she carried.
“Pardon me.” Delilah approached the woman. She turned and looked over Delilah’s head, but frowned when she noticed the drak peering at her.
“What do you want?” Her dark skin turned ashen, and she backed away, her voice quivering and shrill.
“Calm down.” Delilah sighed. Don’t they have draks in this stupid city? “Where’s the deputy headmaster’s quarters?”
The young woman pointed a shaking hand at the second door to their left. Delilah mumbled thanks as she pushed past the woman. Without waiting for Alysha to catch up, the drak banged on the door with her fist.
“Oh, for crying out loud.” The minotaur’s voice was unmistakable. Delilah fought to keep a boggin’s grin off her face. The door opened, revealing an annoyed Pancras dressed in loose robes. His brow wrinkled in confusion until he thought to look downward.
Salvation (Scars of the Sundering Book 3) Page 32
