Salvation (Scars of the Sundering Book 3)

by Hans Cummings

  The minotaur wizard flexed his withered hand. “I would have said yes had she just asked in a dream.”

  Qaliah stripped the meat from a chicken leg. “The story wouldn’t be nearly as interesting.”

  “She’s right about that.” Delilah sipped her ale. “I put my apprentice to work with the limner reconstructing the book that got water damaged during our tests. She’s pretty smart. She’ll probably have all kinds of new information about the moon gates for me when I return to Muncifer.” With all of her obligations in the southern city, Delilah considered it might be several years before she returned to Drak-Anor.

  “After we’ve dealt with the Lich Queen, I would very much like to see this moon gate you came through. You’re certain only draks can activate it?”

  “No.” Delilah shook her head and sipped her ale. “Humans can’t, at least, neither Alysha nor Katka can. We theorized since they were constructed by draks, they were attuned to draks.”

  Pancras chewed his lip as he nodded. “That makes sense.”

  “It’s getting late.” Orion glanced out the window. “We should turn in. We have a lot to accomplish before Lord Fenwick returns.”

  “Right.” Pancras rose from his seat and gestured to Delilah. “I’ll take the archmage to her quarters.”

  Qaliah hopped out of her chair. “Don’t have too much fun without me. See you tomorrow.”

  As Pancras escorted Delilah out of his chambers, the archmage noticed Orion remained behind. The clip-clop of Pancras’s hooves, piercing the still of night, echoed in the stone corridors of the White Tower.

  “So, you seem close to this other minotaur, Orion?” It was none of her business. Delilah had never given much thought to Pancras’s private life, although she understood disapproval for his orientation was one reason he had left Muncifer in the first place.

  “Yes. In the short time we’ve known each other, it seems we fill a void in each other’s lives.”

  “Good. You deserve to find happiness.” First Sarvesh, then Kale, now Pancras. Everybody is settling down. I could do worse than Ori, that’s for sure.

  “I was happy in Drak-Anor. Lonely at times, yes, but happy.” Pancras stopped outside a door several rooms beyond his own. He knelt before the archmage and took her by the shoulders.

  “I don’t want to understate how dangerous this confrontation will be.”

  “We’ve faced danger before, Pancras.” Delilah understood the look in his eyes, his furrowed brow, that distant, yet intense, expression of one resigned to one’s fate.

  “Not like this. If I don’t return, promise me you’ll use your influence as archmage to make a better world for draks and minotaurs.”

  “I’ve already started.” She clasped one of his hands. “And if I don’t return, make sure the secret of the moon gates doesn’t die with me. I know I can be flippant at times, but I realize how much they can change the world. I can’t even imagine what kind of future the people can build together.”

  Pancras smiled and hugged her. “I think being archmage agrees with you.”

  Well, it certainly has turned me into a soft fuddy-duddy, hasn’t it?

  Chapter 24

  Pancras awoke the next morning to an empty bed. Rubbing his bleary eyes, he scanned his quarters, discovering himself alone. The Justicar left earlier than the minotaur wizard expected. Either that, or I slept too long.

  He slid out of bed and clopped over to the windows. Throwing open the curtains allowed the subdued light of a cloudy morning through. Based on the lack of activity on the university grounds, Pancras surmised he had not overslept.

  After taking care of his morning ablutions, the minotaur intended to break his fast with Lewin. He pounded on Delilah’s door on his way to the headmaster’s office.

  As she opened the door, Pancras noticed the drak’s bloodshot and puffy eyes. “As archmage, I command you to go away.”

  “We should eat with the headmaster, Archmage.” Pancras grinned and spun her as he nudged her into her quarters and followed behind her. “You should have gone to see him last night before finding me.”

  “You’re more important.”

  “I’m only deputy headmaster.”

  Delilah coughed. “You’re more important to me.”

  Pancras felt warmth blossom in his heart. “Be that as it may, we have time for official business today, so we should take care of it. I have a class to teach later.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Give me a minute.” She shuffled over to a water pitcher, poured some in a bowl, and dunked her head into it. When she surfaced, she dripped water all over the floor while searching for a towel, but she settled for her cloak. Delilah threw it in the corner.

  “It’s too hot for that damned thing anyway.” She picked up her staff. “Let’s go.”

  Headmaster Lewin sat waiting for Pancras when they arrived. He jumped to his feet at the sight of the archmage. “I was concerned when you didn’t come by last night, but I didn’t want to pry in your affairs.”

  The old man bowed, touching his forehead with his hands. “I am honored by your visit, Archmage Delilah. I must confess, I’m baffled how you arrived here so quickly.”

  “It’s quite the story, Headmaster.” Pancras gestured at the table laden with bread, fruit, and dried meat. “I trust there is enough for the archmage to join us?”

  “Oh yes, of course!” Lewin pulled a third chair to the table before dashing to his cupboard to retrieve another goblet. “It would be an honor.”

  Delilah tugged at Pancras’s sleeve. He bent down so she could whisper in his ear. “Is he always like this?”

  The minotaur nodded. “Very proper and respectful. Nothing like your predecessor.” He realized that was the unspoken part of her question.

  Diffuse shafts of dreary, grey light danced throughout the room as the sun fought to burn through heavy clouds above the university wall. As Headmaster Lewin returned, he uncovered some lanterns containing glowing, bright, amber gems. Their illumination brought an earthy warmth to the room, pushing back the dreary morning.

  The headmaster, full of questions for Delilah, posed several in rapid succession. The drak answered in between bites of their morning meal. Pancras found her inability to keep up with the old man amusing, despite himself. As the archmage’s frustration mounted, he decided to show mercy.

  “I’m sure there will be time to discuss all the plans Archmage Delilah has once we return.”

  Lewin’s bushy eyebrows leapt away from his eyes like frightened rodents. “You’re leaving? So soon?”

  “I’ve previously spoken of my mission from Aita.” Pancras sipped from his goblet. Lewin’s stocks were without compare, and the wine’s berry-filled nose complimented the selection of fresh fruit the headmaster provided. “We’re leaving for Zamora in a few days.”

  “Zamora?” Lewin placed his hand on his chest. “Why in Selene’s name would you go to that dreadful place?”

  Delilah drained her goblet and helped herself to more wine. “We’re going to scour the Lich Queen and her minions from this world. Raze it to the ground, if need be.”

  “The Lich Queen…” Lewin’s eyes grew unfocused as he stared across the table. “You’ve confirmed it, then? The undead? The Nights of Exodus?”

  Delilah tore a hunk of bread from one of the crusty boules near her. “Well, there’s something going on there.”

  “If it is not the Lich Queen, whoever is calling the dead to them at Zamora must still be stopped.” Pancras knew in his heart who their foe was, but he lacked hard evidence.

  “Yes, indeed.” Lewin’s attention returned to his guests. “We should speak to the other masters. Perhaps they can lend aid.”

  “Their aid would be most welcome.” Pancras raised his goblet to the headmaster. “We feel a small force will pose the least risk at this time; however, we have a backup plan.”

  “One of the Justicars and Pancras’s pet fiendling are staying behind. If we don’t return, they’ll need to bring an army.”
Delilah briefed Lewin on the plans discussed the previous night. “In the meantime, I want to see all the information this university has on Zamora.”

  “Of course. I’ll introduce you to Master Beriwen Falaelwa. In addition to being adjunct master of enchantments, she’s also our chief librarian. Whatever knowledge we have on Zamora, she’ll find.”

  ***

  After a restful night, Gisella awakened and joined her sister and Qaliah in the Screeching Griffon’s common room. A large bowl of fruit-laden porridge sat in the center of the table. Dim grey light filtered in through the windows, supplemented by oil lamps at each table.

  Alysha ladled a heaping spoonful of grey goo into a bowl and slid it to Gisella as she sat down. “Cold soggy oat on a mucky, dreary day. Eat up!”

  Gisella picked up her spoon and stirred the porridge. To her disgust, the concoction supported her spoon when she let go of it. She preferred a bit more cream in her gruel.

  The fiendling washed down a mouthful with a mug of steaming cider. “It’s not bad once you get past the gloppiness. Fruity.”

  To her credit, the fiendling was not a bad judge of food. Meal texture was not usually a hurdle for Gisella; one who lived on the road could not afford to be picky.

  Alysha gestured to the common room. “You could have picked a nicer inn. This place is dirty.”

  “I didn’t notice.” Gisella glanced around the room. Her critical eye noticed the ill-fitted floorboards and set-in stains on the tables. “After months at sea, it appeared luxurious.”

  Qaliah raised her mug. “Hear, hear. The alley out back is luxurious compared to the ship. Fewer rats, too.”

  Gisella chuckled. Although rodents weren’t really a problem on the Maiden of the High Seas, compared with the rest of the crew quarters, the cabin the three shared on the ship was clean and spacious. Still, a swinging hammock on ship couldn’t compare to a proper bed.

  “When we return from Zamora”—Alysha pointed at herself with her spoon—“I’m picking the accommodations.”

  “While you’re gone, I can look around and obtain some recommendations.” Qaliah tapped the tabletop with her finger.

  “You?” Alysha’s raised eyebrows betrayed her skepticism.

  A raucous cry arose from a group of scruffy, leather-clad men playing mumbelty-peg in the far corner. The innkeeper admonished them for throwing knives into his floor but made no move to stop them.

  “Hey, I know luxury.” Qaliah placed her hand on her chest. “You don’t make a living appropriating goods from rich idiots without learning what it looks like.”

  Gisella glanced over at the fiendling. “Didn’t one of those ‘rich idiots’ indenture you to the Arcane University for theft?”

  “Yes.” Qaliah pushed out her bottom lip. “I learned not to steal from wizards, so it wasn’t a complete waste.”

  Alysha pointed at her. “If it’d been me, there wouldn’t have been enough of you left to indenture.”

  “It’s a good thing I didn’t steal from you then, isn’t it, Silvery?”

  The Frost Queen flicked a lock of her hair. “You have something against hair?”

  “I like it. Blondie’s there and yours. Silver and gold.” Qaliah regarded the ceiling as she chewed on her lip. “Isn’t that a song?”

  Of least importance on her list of concerns, Gisella intended not to entertain an in-depth discussion about her tresses. She ran her fingers through a dangling clump, snagging it on a knot. “We should go over the supplies we’ll need for the journey to Zamora.”

  Alysha patted her staff, which leaned against her chair. “I have what I need.”

  “We’ll need provisions.” Gisella cast a sidelong glance at her sibling. “It’s probably a five-day ride, maybe longer. We’ll have to procure you a horse, too.”

  Qaliah waved her spoon at Alysha. “I’ll rent you Comet. Five crowns a day. Replace him if you get him killed.”

  Gisella noticed her sister making mental calculations. Personally, she thought the fiendling priced Comet too low.

  “I could almost buy my own horse for that!” Alysha scowled at the fiendling.

  “No, you couldn’t!” Qaliah laughed and slapped the table.

  “If only that stupid drak had not run off Yaamkyrsku. He could have carried all of us there in under a day.”

  Albeit impressed her sister allied herself with a dragon since they parted ways, Gisella found herself suppressing a giggle when she learned Delilah’s brother ran him off right under her sister’s nose.

  “You should have trained him better.” Qaliah helped herself to more porridge, flicking through the goop to remove the raisins.

  “Fool! One does not train a dragon.” Alysha sniffed and raised her head. “It is a relationship borne of mutual respect and understanding.”

  “Broken by a drak with an egg.” Gisella snickered. She couldn’t help but twist the knife a little.

  Alysha slumped in her chair. “I hate you both right now.”

  “Seven crowns a day, Silvery. That’s my final offer.”

  “That’s higher than your last offer.” Alysha furrowed her brows and glared at the fiendling.

  Qaliah shrugged. “It was a limited-time offer, and it’s still cheaper than buying your own horse. Sure, you could buy a swayback nag cheaper, but a good horse will run you a hundred, two hundred crowns, easy, especially around here.”

  Gisella raised her eyebrows and nodded. Unsure of how Qaliah learned so much about horse pricing since their arrival considering she wasn’t at all knowledgeable when they purchased Comet, she suspected the fiendling of attempting to con her sister.

  “Just take the five crowns a day, Alysha.”

  “Hey!”

  Gisella quelled Qaliah’s protest with a glance. “We don’t have time to haggle for a horse for you. It’s better to borrow a friend’s, wouldn’t you say?”

  “She’s not my friend… fine. Take this as a deposit.” Alysha dug in her pouch and threw a handful of gold coins across the table at the fiendling. She pointed at her sister. “You’re responsible for the provisions, though.”

  After breaking her fast, Gisella tended to just that. She spent the morning familiarizing herself with the vendors in the market and stopped by the Arcane University to consult with Pancras and Delilah on what provisions they required.

  By the time rain arrived in the afternoon, she had purchased much of the supplies they needed. Having completed the task, Gisella retired to her room to clean and check her armor and weapons and await word of Lord Fenwick’s return.

  ***

  Master Beriwen Falaelwa proved invaluable in helping Delilah locate what information the university possessed on Zamora. The elf seemed abundantly curious about the drak archmage, particularly on the origin and significance of her stripes; however, Delilah convinced her those answers could wait until she returned from her pending journey.

  Most of what had been written about Zamora was chronicled in histories of the war in which Vlorey had been at the forefront over twenty years earlier. According to all accounts Delilah read, no battle actually took place at the tower of Zamora itself; rather, the Lich Queen’s defeat occurred at the Battle of Badon Hill. Located some distance southwest, Zamora sat at the edge of the area in which the hills bordered the northern portion of Caernoth.

  Well, Deli-girl, if she kills us all, you’ll be closer to home than you have been in a long while. Further reports from after the war indicated the terrain surrounding Zamora had become rugged, marsh-like, and possessed of unnatural cold. The foliage fell twisted and ill, as though the land itself had become diseased.

  This should have been their first clue she wasn’t completely destroyed.

  After completing her research, Delilah met with Headmaster Lewin and waited for him to assemble the students. She had not prepared an official statement, as she had not intended for her meeting with Pancras to be an official visit to the Arcane University as archmage.

  They convened in one of the larges
t assembly halls within the Iron Tower. The amphitheater, large enough to seat all the students, featured a podium at the bottom of the lecture hall. Tiered seating stretched up and surrounded her on three sides, towering over the diminutive drak. The masters of the university all sat in the front row nearest Delilah. Pancras’s presence in the center of the faculty eased her anxiety.

  She cleared her throat, the projection of her voice by the enchanted podium startling her. She jumped, gripping the sides of the lectern tightly enough to scratch the finish.

  “Assembled students and faculty, I am honored by the warm welcome you have shown me. My visit here was entirely unplanned, and so, I will not keep you long. Frankly, I don’t have much to say right now.”

  The admission caused a mixture of murmurs and chuckles to circulate the room.

  “I’ve not been archmage long enough to have gained a full understanding of all the guild’s policies, and I plan to leave the administration of each university campus to its respective headmaster. However, I will ensure that all students are given the same opportunities to learn, regardless of the circumstances of their birth. The former archmage, Vilkan Icebreaker, whom some of you may know better as Manless”—she paused to allow the laughter to abate—“was a cruel and vindictive man.

  “It would be easy for me to condemn all humans for his actions, but I will not. I am self-taught and was perfectly happy having had no guild involvement until he forced my hand. You will, no doubt, hear rumors that I invoked the ancient Rite of Combat and in defeating him, succeeded him as archmage.”

  Another wave of murmurs circulated the room. Observing the number of head nods, she determined that this information had reached many students.

  “I did not go to Muncifer with the intention of becoming archmage. I didn’t challenge Manless with that intention, either. Frankly, I wanted to scour his stain from Calliome after learning he murdered a Firstborne.”

  Most students returned blank stares and shrugged at each other. Delilah sighed. “Obviously, draconic lore needs to be added to the curriculum.” She eyed Headmaster Lewin as she spoke. “He killed the dragon Pyraclannaseous, a Firstborne, Daughter of Gaia and Rannos Dragonsire. I saw her corpse with my own eyes. I challenged him to mete out justice.