Salvation (Scars of the Sundering Book 3)

by Hans Cummings

  “I assume one of these portals leads to your realm?”

  “Indeed.” Aita gestured to the portal on the right. It shimmered deep violets and midnight blues. “You may dwell at my side for all eternity, my faithful bonelord. You will guide others to me.”

  Pancras’s heart grew heavy. He regarded his hooves and slumped. “I… I… don’t know what I was expecting.”

  “Whatever it is you think you will experience is nothing like what you will become. Your soul will not be bound by the constraints of time or your perceived limitations. You can do what you desire, when you desire, where you desire, although in all things, you will serve me. It is difficult to explain in this limited language you use. You will understand when you pass through the portal.”

  Pancras regarded the center gateway. It shimmered black, a shifting mass of nothing, like a hole in existence that was present, yet not. He sensed it would be uncomfortable to scrutinize were he alive. “And that one? The middle?”

  “You have sacrificed, and you have served. Many of your dreams in life died before you had a chance to see them fulfilled.” She leaned over and whispered in his ear, “We gods are not all-powerful, all-knowing.”

  The Princess of the Underworld straightened and gazed at the bonelord. “Perhaps you resent our meddling in your life. Perhaps you conceal a hatred for us and the life you lived. I offer you a third choice: oblivion. Pass through the center portal, and your consciousness will cease.”

  Aita dropped his hand and floated away. “But, if you feel you still have work, still have good to do, you need only open your eyes. As I stated, your body clings to life, although you have not emerged unscathed. Choose your eternity.”

  Choosing between death and life when he had no means of knowing what kind of life he would lead frustrated him. “How can I choose when I don’t know what lies beyond, or even what awaits me in life now?”

  The goddess of death circled him. “No one can tell you what lies beyond, Pancras. It will be what you make of it. All your regrets, all your sorrow, all your joy, all your triumphs, they will all be part of what, of who, you are. In time, you will forget your life on Calliome and become part of the fabric of existence. The choice you make now will determine if you strengthen that existence with your experiences or if you become a stain upon it.”

  A tear welled in Pancras’s eye, but it evaporated into the dry nothingness of the Featureless Grey’s reality. “I don’t want to forget.” The image of Orion’s face lingered in the back of his mind, the sensation of his lover’s tender touch. “I don’t think I’m ready to leave life.”

  Aita approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You will remember long enough to see your friends again.”

  “What if I choose to stay here?”

  “This place will cease to exist when I depart. If you are here when I leave, you will dissipate as it does, but you will remain aware—consciousness without form. You will perceive nothing and everything at once. You will know the world, yet be unable to affect it. You will feel everything, yet you will be unable to act with regard to it. It will be a tortured existence.”

  It was more than Pancras expected and wholly unappealing.

  “Think not too hard, my bonelord. The Great Beyond of the afterlife is a paradise or a damnation of your own making, but if you truly feel you are not ready, return to your life. You may still serve me there, if you wish. There are many who could use your help.”

  The idea of all the experiences he might yet know overwhelmed the minotaur. A life with Orion, watching his friends have families, seeing Delilah drag the Mages Guild kicking and screaming into a new paradigm. He didn’t want to miss it.

  “The time of the gods wanes, Pancras. Soon, our influence over Calliome will end. The lands beyond the sea and beyond the Western Wastes will find Andelosia once more, and together, all the peoples of the world will forge a bright, better future. Through it all, we will watch and be proud of our children.”

  “Proud of those who abandon you?” The minotaur gazed at his goddess. The scintillating violet hues of her portal reflected in her eyes.

  “All children grow up and leave home. When the people of this world no longer need us, they will move on. We will move on.” She waved her arm over her head in an arc. A sky of stars, planets, and galaxies appeared, wheeling about. Then it disappeared as though it had never existed. “There will be other worlds, other people. All those who dwell in our realms will have a hand in their creation.”

  Pancras turned toward the portals. The left promised an afterlife of all the pleasures Aurora so loved, many of which Pancras had never experienced, nor did he care to. Aita’s Realm would be his home in due time.

  He chose to live and opened his eyes.

  ***

  Rain mingled with the tears on Gisella’s cheeks as she knelt alongside Pancras. What have you lost in making this sacrifice? Hopes? Dreams? Or was this your plan all along? Her sister placed her hand on Gisella’s shoulder. A smear of dust extended to where his withered hand had been. No appendage remained past his elbow.

  “We should go.”

  Gisella brushed away Alysha’s hand. “In a moment.”

  She clutched the seashell of Aurora at her neck. “Blessed Aurora. You teach us that sacrifice is the greatest expression of love.”

  Gisella stroked Pancras’s cold cheek. “He followed Aita, but he deserves more than service. He sacrificed everything to rid the world of its greatest enemy. He gave of himself for others, and his efforts rewarded him with death. Guide him to a better place. He lived his life in the shadow of the underworld. Let him find peace in the light of your love.”

  The minotaur groaned, and his eyes fluttered open. “Giving up on me?”

  “Pancras!” The scrape of a leathery foot on stone caught Gisella’s attention. Archmage Delilah fell to her knees at her friend’s side. “I knew you’d beat her.”

  Gisella regarded Delilah as the drak shivered and suppressed a sob, clearly trying to hold herself together. The Golden Slayer wiped away her own tears and took the minotaur’s hand. Warmth returned to it as she held it, the blossoming of life in a body on the brink of death.

  “I will stay by your side as long as I must, Pancras.”

  “Me too.” Delilah laid her head on his chest. He lifted her head as he pulled himself into a seated position with help from Gisella. Alysha ducked under his other arm, and the two sisters helped him to his feet.

  The minotaur regarded his stump. “Well, damn. I’m losing bits of myself every time something like this happens, aren’t it?”

  “Life enjoys cruel jokes.” Alysha wrapped her arm around his waist to steady him. “Can you tell us what happened?”

  The minotaur rubbed the back of his head. “It’s fuzzy. When the Lich Queen and I… joined… she”—he glanced at each of them in turn—“she wanted me to help her cross into the next life.”

  “What?” Alysha’s jaw dropped, and she took a step backward.

  Gisella put her hand on Pancras’s chest. “She wanted you to help her die?”

  “Wasn’t she already dead?” Delilah curled her lip. “How could she die again?”

  “The rift! We still have to close that rift!” Pancras looked toward the sky, but saw only clearing clouds.

  “Relax.” Alysha waved her hand. “We dealt with it.”

  “There are more where that came from, make no mistake.”

  “Around here?” Delilah turned her head, searching for another fissure.

  “No. No, not around here, probably. In the world, I mean. Someone will have to deal with them, eventually.”

  “Eventually, but not today.” Delilah took his remaining hand. “Tell us more about the Lich Queen.”

  Pancras explained how the demons bound her to this world to use as a conduit and that she had accepted her defeats and was weary, worn out, ready to depart this world and face what lay beyond. He explained that she did not want her grandchildren to fall to the demons, to beco
me as she did.

  “That pox-swilling, dust-lunged bitch deserves eternal torment. Where’s the justice for all those who died at her hands?” Alysha crossed her arms, turned, and stormed away.

  Delilah regarded the Frost Queen’s back. “Maybe Alysha should join the Justicars.”

  Gisella chuckled and continued walking with them, supporting Pancras in her sister’s stead. “She’s just angry she was wrong about the Lich Queen’s plans. She thought I was intended to be her new vessel. That’s the only reason she came north when she learned I came to Vlorey.”

  “I’m glad she came; her assistance was invaluable. Still, I thank Hon I don’t have any siblings.” Pancras glanced first at Delilah and then Gisella. “Honestly, I don’t know how you put up with them.”

  Alysha returned to assist the minotaur as he paced about the top of the tower, surveying the carnage. “Believe me, we made them pay for every mistake. Speaking of which”—she nodded at Delilah—“I still owe your brother.”

  “You and me both.” Delilah reached up to take Pancras’s withered hand, but grabbed only air. “Oh. You know, Archduke Fyodar’s court wizard has a steel hand.” Delilah gathered up Pancras’s maul and Alysha’s staff and dragged them behind her as they walked. “He seems to have full control of it. I’ll bet someone could forge something like that for you. I’m sure he’d help us enchant it for you, too.”

  Pancras shook his head. “No, that won’t do. Steel is cold, hard. Maybe some of that ebony wood they grow around here. I fancy the kind with the light-colored stripes. That would suit me, I think.”

  The Golden Slayer laughed. “We can’t be unfashionable, can we?”

  Pancras straightened up and laid his remaining hand on her shoulder. “As deputy headmaster, I have an image to maintain.”

  Delilah looked up at him. “You’re staying, then?”

  “Yes. Staying with Orion.” Strong enough again to walk on his own, he released Alysha.

  The Frost Queen retrieved her staff from Delilah. “With the archmage’s help, I will use the moon gate to return home.” She reached toward Gisella.

  Gisella took her sister’s hand. “I will return with you, if you’ll have me.”

  Alysha smiled and pulled her sister into a hug. “Of course. You are most welcome, always. Grímar will be happy to see you.”

  “You’re leaving the guild, then?” Delilah tapped on Gisella’s mailed hand. “I won’t stop you.”

  “With your permission, of course, Archmage.” Gisella bowed to the drak. “If you need my help to get settled…”

  “No, go with your sister. Once we’ve had a chance to rest up in Vlorey, I’ll take you to the moon gate.” Delilah tugged at her harness. “I’ll need to return to Muncifer anyway. My brother, his mate, and my apprentice are still there. I’ll go… back”—the drak shuddered—“where it’s cold.”

  Alysha chuckled and held out the hem of her cloak. “Enchanted clothes. Besides, you’re the archmage. If you want to move your seat to the warm climes of Vlorey, no one can stop you.”

  Gisella nodded. “And with the portals working, you could visit your brother any time.”

  “You’re right, of course.” Delilah shook her head. The drak regarded the two sisters and Pancras. “Let’s get back to Vlorey. This place is still creepy.”

  “Ahem.”

  The three turned. Scout Stonehammer stood before them, a blood-soaked bandage around her head. “Fennie… um, Lord Blackthorne wanted me to report that all is well. All the dead are resting again, and the clouds are breaking.” The dwarf woman approached them and made the sign of Anetha. “He’ll be pleased you all seem no worse for the wear.”

  She inspected Pancras up and down. “How did you get so grey?”

  The minotaur regarded his fur and chuckled. “A parting gift from the Lich Queen, I suppose.”

  “Speaking of whom, what about Grandmother?” Gisella gestured at the pile of dust that was once the body of the Lich Queen.

  Valora put her hands on her hips. “Do you plan to keep her above your hearth?”

  Gisella shook her head. “Not really.”

  “We will entomb her here.” Alysha surveyed the rooftop. “The archmage and I will destroy the tower when we leave. Nothing will remain for misguided death cultists to find.”

  The sisters again eyed the pile of dust. Gisella bowed her head. “Be at peace, Grandmother.”

  “It doesn’t seem right.”

  The Golden Slayer regarded her sister.

  Alysha shrugged. “That someone who brought so much pain, death, and destruction to the world should have peace. She earned damnation.”

  Gisella didn’t have an answer for her sister. She knew only what she saw on this day. “Pancras granted her salvation.”

  Epilogue

  Although his wounds were not entirely healed, Pancras awoke each day with renewed vigor. Aita’s blessing remained with him; he felt it each time he touched Shatterskull. Orion, too, was still with him, although the Justicar usually had awakened and gone to tend to his duties by the time Pancras arose.

  Teaching alchemy with the use of only one arm was a skill the minotaur tried to hone, but he hoped he wouldn’t have the need for it much longer. Already, a craftsman worked on creating a prosthetic forearm from a branch of striped ebony wood. Pancras chose that particular branch because it washed ashore during the storm in which he confronted the Lich Queen.

  Delilah waited for him as he descended the White Tower, the bright morning sun rising later than it did when she first arrived.

  “You know what today is, Pancras?”

  They strode together. He nodded. “You’re leaving?”

  “I need to return to Muncifer. I’m going to set the other wizards and the slayers to tracking down and closing more chaos rifts. Besides, I have to make sure my brother hasn’t destroyed his life completely before I even consider moving the archmage’s seat to another city.”

  Pancras chuckled. Despite her brother’s recklessness, the minotaur believed Kale would find his life’s rhythm in time. Probably faster without his sister’s interference.

  “I’ve instructed your old headmaster there to let you use the Herald Stone whenever you want to talk to me.” Delilah took his hand as they strode and gazed up at him. “You know, I thought when this mess was over, we’d all be going back to Drak-Anor, together.”

  “Life has a way of sweeping you to unexpected destinations. Sometimes, you find a better place in which to dwell for a while.”

  The archmage sighed. “You like it better here? Better than Drak-Anor?”

  Pancras stopped and knelt facing Delilah. “I have something here I lacked in Drak-Anor. My life was good there, and Sarvesh was… is a good friend.” He glanced at the university grounds. The leaves of the gingko trees faded from green to yellow, scattering their foliage on the earth below. “I was always an academic at heart. All those years I spent running, hiding… I can do more good here, I think.”

  She patted his shoulder. “See if you can find a moon gate here in the city somewhere. I meant what I said to all those students.”

  “I know you did. Sarvesh would be proud.”

  The drak’s eyes glistened. “Are you?”

  “I am.” Pancras bowed before his archmage. “And honored. You were a wild, untamed sorceress when we first left Drak-Anor. Now”—he gestured to the buildings around them—“they all bow to you.”

  “I just didn’t want to be bothered with dues.” Delilah laughed and hugged him. He felt tears moisten his fur, but the drak’s eyes dried by the time they parted.

  “I’ll be back, Pancras. That’s a promise.” Delilah waved to him as she crossed the bridge leading into the city.

  He watched until she disappeared into the crowd. The minotaur wizard breathed deeply and made his way to the lecture hall, whistling a sea shanty he’d heard on the Maiden of the High Seas.

  It was time to teach.

  ***

  Alysha, Qaliah, and the
Golden Slayer awaited Delilah when she arrived at the stables. The Frost Queen rubbed her eye and winked at the archmage. “I think you’ve got something there.”

  The drak wiped her eyes. “Shut up.” She held her hand toward the fiendling and mounted Comet, wrapping her arms around Qaliah’s waist.

  Alysha and Gisella rode double on Moonsilver, the four women making their way to the tower from which Delilah and Alysha arrived. They stopped at Ravenbrier Meadery for a night of mead and song. The lad, Alfie, knew dozens of ballads. That boy couldn’t hold a tune if he tried with both hands.

  Qaliah’s ebony cheeks took on a ruddy glow by her third mug of mead, and she swayed to the music. “I’m going to miss you girls, even the drak.”

  “Yeah?” Delilah grinned as she poured herself another mug of mead. “Come back to Muncifer; I’m sure I can find work for you at the Arcane University.”

  “No, thank you!” Qaliah raised her mug. “I’m done with that. I’m done with the cold. Vlorey’s the place for me.” She slammed her mug on the table, sloshing mead over the sides, and leaned forward.

  She pointed a wobbly finger at Delilah. “Besides, there’s a whole flock of young noblemen just looking for a taste of the exotic, and they are willing to pay shiny new crowns just to have me on their arm at the next ball.”

  Gisella shook her head as she sipped from her mug. “They’re just using you, you know. They want the debutantes to see you as a threat and redouble their attentions on the young men’s hearts.”

  “Don’t care.” Qaliah pointed her thumb at her chest. “Getting paid. Crowns. Gold crowns. Lots of them.”

  Alysha clicked her tongue and cocked her head. “She’s not doing anything you’re not accused of by fools every day, sister. And she doesn’t even pay lip service to Aurora.”

  “Nobles.” Gisella sneered and drained her mug. Young nobles and fools were synonyms in her experience. “True. Just take care you don’t end up with a jealous knife in your ribs, Qaliah. Some of the games those men play end in blood.”