“Have you been there before?” Pancras locked the door behind him as the two of them made their way to the common area for the evening meal.
“Vlorey? No. I’ve heard stories, of course. It’s the biggest city on Andelosia. I expect any elements you disliked in Muncifer or Almeria will be at least twice as bad there.” Gisella offered a smile of reassurance to the wide-eyed minotaur.
“Fantastic. I miss Drak-Anor more and more every day.”
“What’s it like?” Gisella hadn’t even heard of Drak-Anor until two or three years earlier.
“Underground, pretty comfortable most of the time. Now that we’ve run out the goblins and the oroqs, it’s quite a nice place to live. We trade with Ironkrag and Celtangate now. It’s far better than when I first arrived. We fought off invaders almost every day.”
“People who thought it was a den of monsters to be killed for treasure?” Gisella encountered the type. Self-righteous wanderers with little to do but stick their noses in other people’s business. They called themselves adventurers and thought of themselves as heroes. Most of the people left cleaning up their messes had less charitable names for them: murderers, vagrants, and gallivanting swaggies.
“Mostly. To be fair, it did seem to attract a certain demonic element. The Twilight Throne was an artifact of immense power that drew in the worst type. Sarvesh destroyed it, though. Things have been better since.” Pancras claimed a table near the hearth and ordered mead, but then stopped the barmaid and changed his order to wine.
“I’ll risk the mead.” Gisella nodded to the barmaid. “Hopefully, they’ve tapped a good keg this time.”
* * *
Kale waited until the nebbish blue drak and his workers left and then explained his arrangement with Boss Steelhand to Delilah.
As he finished, her chest tightened, and it seemed tiny hammers rang repeatedly on anvils at the base of her skull. Holding her head, Delilah groaned and leaned against the counter. “Just once, I wish something would be easy. I should be going.”
Kale touched his sister’s shoulder as he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know any of this was going down. We needed some way of earning money.”
“What are we going to do?” Kali chewed her lip. “We can’t just leave the library and cavern unguarded while this strange drak has the run of the shop.”
“The door is locked as best as I can.” Kale paced, clasping his hands behind his back. “I can build a few more traps on it, maybe one or two at the base of the stairs, too.”
Delilah perked up. Kale triggered an idea; her assignment could wait. “I could rig up some magical traps, too. The kind we used to put in the lightning canons in Drak-Anor. That won’t take long at all.” Her mind raced as she mentally listed the parts she needed. A cursory glance around the empty shop revealed she could scrounge almost everything from there.
“Crystals. I need some high-quality crystals.”
Kali snapped her fingers. “Kale, do we have any gems left in that money Pancras left us?”
Kale shook his head. “Yes, but those aren’t the kinds she needs. Big quartz crystals will work if they’re clear enough.”
Delilah smiled. Her brother knew exactly what she needed, just like old times.
“I think I saw a place selling things like that. Some mystic’s shop a few levels up across the gorge.”
Kale ran to their living quarters and returned clutching a small money pouch. He shook it to jingle the coins within. “Kali and I will go get what you need. Can you watch the place, Deli? Or… do you want to come with me and Kali can watch the place?”
Before Kali retorted, Delilah nodded and shooed them out of the shop. “I’ll watch things. I’ll make sure that other drak knows not to mess with our stuff.”
“So much for a quick visit.” Delilah pulled over a chair from near the hearth so she could see the front door while she studied. She pulled her grimoire from her pack, opening it to the last page she remembered reading. The grimoire seemed to show her what it wanted her to see, so Delilah doubted whether or not it actually mattered to what page she opened the book.
Gil-Li’s grimoire pulled Delilah in faster than it had in the past. Within moments, she viewed a scene of Gil-Li standing on a promontory overlooking a city under siege. Clouds pregnant with unfallen rain hung low over the battlefield, and below them drifted thick clouds of smoke from burning buildings. An army pounded the gates and attempted to scale the city’s walls while a fleet of ships launched balls of flaming pitch into the docks and buildings surrounding the harbor.
The drak archmage held her arms high and swayed. Her movements flowed in a complex rhythm, not dissimilar from that of dance. A flash of lightning split the sky, and Delilah felt the thunder rumble deep within her chest. Gil-Li’s tattoos blazed like sapphires shining in sunlight, searing the movements of the elder sorceress into Delilah’s mind.
Clouds swirled above, faster and faster, until vortices formed, and tornadoes descended from the heavens into the midst of armies attacking the city. Clouds of clay and dust swirled up into the cyclones, obscuring the battlefield beneath a storm of soil and debris. Gil-Li directed the tornadoes through the troops and flung men, beasts, and siege weapons high into the air. When half their number was devastated by the unrelenting fury of nature, the rest fled.
Gil-Li changed her movements, spinning to face the sea. The tornadoes skipped over the city. When they reached the harbor, they drank in the bay and blasted through ships, turning stout sides of oak and teak into splinters. Blasting powder exploded on the deck of one of the ships, and the fireball flowed upward in a spiral, becoming one with the waterspout.
When the fury of the storm was spent, the winds calmed, and the tornadoes released all the debris, water, and bodies they carried into the ocean. The harbor was filled with the smoldering wreckage of the attacking ships, yet the city itself was untouched by Gil-Li’s power. The drak’s shoulders slumped and she turned yet again.
She stared at Delilah.
Gil-Li’s eyes connected with those of the drak sorceress. They flared with a golden light. Delilah sat rigid, unable to close her eyes against the blinding radiance. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Gil-Li reached out and took Delilah’s head in her hands, pulling her close until their foreheads rested against one another.
“You have seen my battles. You have seen my victories and my failures. You have learned much from me. Use what you have learned wisely, and beware the lure of blood. There is much yet to learn.”
Delilah wanted to reply, but she was unable to either speak or move. Gil-Li reached out, touching her mind through the vast gulf of years that separated them.
“I bequeath you my legacy, Child of Destiny, child of the Windsinger clan. Show our people they are not the least of the races of Calliome.”
A golden light enveloped Delilah. Its warmth saturated her body. It drowned out all other sensation and grew in intensity until she felt as though she would explode from it.
With a cry that was equal parts pain and ecstasy, Delilah dropped the grimoire and fell from her chair onto her side, pinning her tail underneath her and slamming her head against the wall.
The pain in her tail and head returned her to the real world. Delilah opened her eyes to meet the blue drak’s stare, his mouth agape. He extended a shaking hand to her and helped her to her feet.
“Oh! That was amazing! I’ve never seen anything like it!”
Delilah pushed her knuckles into her eyes as she staggered across the room. She shook her head to clear it and saw faint wisps of golden mist rising from every surface. When she blinked again, they were gone.
“Oh, are you all right? You seemed to be in a trance. I didn’t want to bother you; I don’t know much about magic, but then you cried out.” Ori held her arm, steadying her as she stretched her legs.
“I’m fine. It’s a magic thing. You wouldn’t understand.” Delilah decided to use Ori’s self-professed ignorance of all matters arca
ne to her advantage.
“Oh. Wow. Okay. You’re all right, though?” Ori stepped back as Delilah shook off his grip. He wrung his hands as he watched her. “I wouldn’t want the other draks to be mad at me because something happened to you while you were here alone with me.”
“I can handle my brother. He knows I can become very involved in my books.” She pointed at him. “Speaking of which, they have to go away with me for a few days. You can’t stay here.”
Ori held up his hands. “Oh! I would never go into their personal quarters! I just need a place to do my work.”
“You can start after we return. Would you trust someone you barely knew to watch all your worldly possessions while you were away?”
The blue drak clicked his teeth together as he looked around the crate-filled room. “Oh, who would want my stuff? Most draks I know can’t read Elven and Etrunian.”
“What is it you do, anyway?”
“I’m— I’m—” Ori panted, closed his eyes, and swallowed. “I’m a limner.”
Delilah pushed out her bottom lip. “What’s that?”
“Oh! I illuminate manuscripts.” He pulled out a book from one of the myriad crates stacked by the counter. He opened it to a page full of text with half-inked drawings covering the margins.
“So… you put light on these pages?” Delilah’s confusion revealed itself on her face. Her ignorance further relaxed Ori, and he grinned and shook his head.
“Oh, no, I embellish the pages to make them beautiful. It’s art! I can gild the edges of the pages, too.” He flipped to a completed page. A complex pattern of green, blue, and gold leaf knotwork covered the margins and surrounded the text in an ornamental frame. “Normally, these things are planned from the outset, but you’d be amazed what people will pay to have it done after the fact.”
He returned the book to its crate and gestured to the rest of the stack. “I have three books I’m working to embellish, plus two more commissions to do from scratch. They take a long time, so I do other smaller work on commission to pay the bills.”
Delilah understood better now. “So you need a workspace and an indoor storefront.”
“Oh, yes. This space is perfect. People don’t pay for illumination on a whim nor for the other gilding and painting I do, so I don’t need to be in a high-traffic area. Jairo is going to help send customers my way.
“I see.” Delilah picked up her grimoire. She felt his eyes on her and turned to meet his gaze.
“Oh! I’m sorry. I tend to stare… it’s just… I’ve never seen such brilliant crimson scales before.” He shook his head. “And the rich, ebony stripes…”
Delilah felt warmth blossom in her heart and heat rush to her face. No one had ever identified her scales as crimson before. They always assumed she was red and black. The difference was subtle, and until now, Delilah thought she was the only person gifted enough to know the difference.
“That’s right…” Delilah’s voice was a whisper. “Crimson and ebony. You see it.”
“Oh. Others don’t? Red and black, right?” Ori licked his lips and nodded.
“Even my brother thinks he’s black with red stripes. I stopped correcting him when we were still hatchlings.”
Delilah watched as Ori put away the book he showed her. She wanted to trust this drak, who was clearly more educated than most she encountered. It would look bad for Kale to evict his tenant the same day he set up shop just because he had to leave. Maybe the traps will be enough.
She stepped over to him and took his hands in hers. She concentrated and pulled together just enough energy to cause swirling blue and golden tendrils to dance around their hands. “There’s a locked door, just down the hall. That’s where my stuff is. Guard it with your life if need be.”
Ori’s eyes widened as he stared at the rope-like wisps enveloping their hands. His mouth moved, but no words escaped. Then he gulped and nodded. Delilah allowed the tendrils to fade away. She hadn’t placed a geas on him, the display was just for show, but she counted on the fact that he didn’t know that.
Delilah slapped him on the shoulder. “Relax! No one except my brother and his mate even know I have anything valuable stored in their home. Well, no one except them and you.” She offered him a smile.
Ori giggled. “Oh. Why don’t you have wings, too? Stripes are pretty special, don’t get me wrong, but—”
“That’s a long story. He wasn’t born with them. What do you know about the chaos from which the world formed?”
“Oh! Chaos! Umm… nothing, actually. I’ve heard the word, that’s all.”
Delilah parted her lips to tell the story just as the door opened. Kale and Kali entered, each carrying bulging sacks.
“We’re back! We have everything you need, Deli!”
“You didn’t frighten poor Ori too badly, did you?” Kali winked at Delilah as she walked past.
“Oh! No, she didn’t. I think she’s amazing.”
Delilah grunted and regarded the ceiling as her brother elbowed her, jerked his head toward Ori, and grinned. Delilah snatched the sack from Kale’s claws and shoved him.
“I don’t need your help, Kale. Thanks for the rocks.” She left her brother to deal with Ori and followed Kali to the door that led downstairs.
Kali handed her the key. “Hopefully, your brother knows what he’s doing. We haven’t tested this.”
“Gee, thanks.” Delilah wasn’t too worried. If her brother knew anything, it was about locks and traps. Delilah’s only concern was that he was too distracted by his mate to do his job properly. She turned the key in the lock. An impressive number of tumblers and latches released, far more than were indicated by the deceptively primitive lock on the front of the door.
She pulled the door open. The backside was covered in a complex lock mechanism. “I am officially impressed. He’s never done work this intricate before.”
“I think that puzzle box is affecting him. We can’t figure out any more of it, but he often watches those clockwork mechanisms before we go to sleep.” Kali held up her sack of crystals. “Need this?”
“Yes. I could use a hand, if you don’t mind.”
Kali recoiled in surprise. “Me? Sure! Leave the boys to their business.” She pulled the door closed behind them, and the latches clicked and locked the door.
Delilah examined the key in her hand. “I hope this opens it both ways.”
“It will.” Kali led the way down the stairs. “It’s the only key, too, so we’re safe from them for a while.”
When they reached the bottom, the gems in torch sconces burst into golden light. Kali gasped. “That’s different! They weren’t that color before.”
Delilah had a suspicion their appearance was connected with her earlier encounter with Gil-Li. “Maybe they needed to warm up some. The last time we were here was probably the first time they lit up in centuries.”
“You think?”
Delilah spread out the crystals Kale and Kali acquired for her. They brought hammers, pitons, and sufficient twine for Delilah to rig the place to fend off an army of curious treasure seekers.
She cracked her knuckles and smiled. “This will be just like old times in Drak-Anor. Let’s get to work!”
* * *
Pancras swung his leg over the saddle horn as he mounted Stormheart. His steed nickered and stomped his feet, eager to run in the open country once more. Pancras patted the horse’s muscular neck and clucked his tongue to calm him. Gisella rode ahead on Moonsilver to scout the countryside as Pancras waited for Qaliah. He suspected the fiendling dawdled as a protest of sorts against leaving Edric to the whim of Curton’s magistrate.
Earlier in the morning, Gisella proceeded to the jail to determine if the fiendling decided to join them or remain behind with Edric and returned with a sour-faced fiendling in tow. She exited The Drunken Horse carrying her saddlebags as Lady Aveline walked up to him.
“Good thing you’re leaving, Bonelord.” Lady Aveline grabbed Stormheart’s reins. She
fished in her pouch and produced a treat for the horse. He nickered and flapped his lips over her fingers to reach it.
“Trouble?” Pancras never liked to hear someone was glad he was leaving, even if he, himself, was happy to depart.
“Piotr the smith was arrested last night. It appears he did what you could not: he smothered his mother with a pillow. They brought him in ranting about a Bonelord’s Curse.” She cocked an eyebrow as she glanced up at him.
“I”—Pancras’s mouth was as dry as a desert in drought—“I had nothing to do—” His heart pounded in his chest, and a dark cloud passed over his thoughts. He wanted to help that woman, but despite his pleas, she would have nothing to do with him. Now her light was extinguished, taken by her very son.
“I realize that. Long has Piotr been tormented by his mother’s affliction. Still”—Lady Aveline observed Qaliah retrieve Comet and saddle him—“enough people overheard that, and there’ll be talk. Best if you make yourself scarce.”
“We’re heading to Cliffport and then Vlorey, so I doubt I’ll be back this way. Ever.”
At the mention of her homeland, Lady Aveline stared skyward, and she sighed. “I haven’t been to Vlorey since my parents and I left when I was a little girl. I wonder what it’s like now. Probably different, yet the same.”
Pancras fished around in his pouch and pulled out a gold crown. He offered it to Lady Aveline. “Edric has a pony stabled. Yaffa. This should cover her stabling and care for a couple more weeks.”
She blinked and shook her head. “Look at me, becoming nostalgic. Thanks for trying to help the smith, Bonelord. Sorry your visit to Curton wasn’t less eventful.” She took the coin from him. “I’ll see to it the livery gets this.”
Qaliah rode Comet alongside Pancras and Stormheart. “It seems everywhere this minotaur goes, something bad happens.”
Pancras felt a shiver run down his spine. Instinct told him to protest Qaliah’s words, but his heart felt the truth. First, he was killed in Almeria. Then separated from his friends in Muncifer. Then killed again at the fort. Once again, he separated from a companion in Curton. Finally, his inability to help Nika burned like salt poured into an open wound.
Lament (Scars of the Sundering Book 2) Page 32
