Lament (Scars of the Sundering Book 2)

by Hans Cummings

  “Dolios watch over your journey. Be vigilant near Dawnwatch Keep. It’s abandoned and crumbling. Might not be safe.” Lady Aveline released Stormheart’s reins and waved them off.

  Qaliah rode ahead of Pancras, spurring Comet whenever he started to catch up. After the third time, the minotaur realized she meant to evade him and contented himself with following behind. He stewed in his dark thoughts. He wondered how often he would be called upon to exercise his new power as a bonelord and how often he would fail. When all he did was brew potions and create undead, he didn’t have to worry about failure. He was well-trained and practiced all the proper techniques.

  Life was simpler. Regimented. Easy, even.

  Now, his burden was to help people. Not just friends, but strangers who would see him as a bonelord first and minotaur second. Some would be suspicious of him, of course, but others wouldn’t care; the reputation of a bonelord would precede him, and they would have certain expectations.

  How many more people are there like Piotr the smith? People who expected help from a bonelord. People he would disappoint, because not everyone was as ready as their families were to have them cross over.

  A flash of light in the distance caught his eye. Light from the rising sun reflected off Gisella’s armor as she sat upon Moonsilver and waved to them from the crest of a hill. Qaliah returned the wave and spurred Comet into a gallop, pulling farther away from Pancras. The two women rode ahead, and Pancras trailed behind.

  They rode in that manner most of the morning, following the road that led east out of Curton. Near midday, Gisella steered them off the road and over the rolling hills of the countryside. Technically, these lands were part of Etrunia, though this far south and east people were ignorant of the Almerian political situation, even before the prince’s recent death. Mostly, the towns and villages fended for themselves, protected themselves, and turned to Curton or Cliffport for assistance only when situations became grave.

  When they made camp that night, Curton was well behind them, past the horizon. A clear sky allowed the summer constellations to fill the sky in all their celestial glory. The King and Queen made their way through the houses of the gods, and by their light, Pancras noticed the dark shapes of a farm in the distance.

  Qaliah approached him as he groomed Stormheart. “Do you have a minute?”

  “Certainly.” Pancras worked to loosen a knot in his horse’s mane. He had not expected the fiendling to approach him after she spent most of the day avoiding him.

  “I heard what Edric said last night.”

  “Did you now?”

  The fiendling nodded. “Even whispers can echo off stone jail walls. Blondie told me about your history with him. I thought you were closer than that.” She rubbed the velvet on the end of Stormheart’s nose. “I may have been hasty in my judgement of you.”

  Pancras ran his brush along his steed’s muscular neck. “He was your friend. I understand.”

  “I spoke to him briefly, last night.” Qaliah rested her head against Stormheart’s flank. “He’s an outcast like me. I think he feels like if he’s indentured, he’ll at least have someplace to stay for a while.”

  “Is that why you played the fool in Muncifer?”

  The fiendling straightened and nodded. “Being indentured was better than rotting in jail. Playing the fool fed me, kept me clothed, and sheltered at a time when turning tricks and robbery were the only things between living and being face-down in a dark alley’s gutter.”

  “Life is cruel towards those of us who don’t fit in with what most people consider normal.” Pancras felt a twitch in his gut at the memory of his own tribulations. “I’m sorry about Edric, but I suppose being indentured is preferable to living a life on the run. Maybe he’ll find a home in Curton. The mudders seem to be the type of people who could understand him.”

  “I guess we all just want to be accepted.” She chewed on her lip for a moment. “I’m told I can be capricious.” She ran her hand through her hair, brushing it out of her face. “Like the fires in which my forebears spawned, I suppose.”

  “It’s in your nature.” Pancras’s experience with the fiendlings in Drak-Anor told him Qaliah’s behavior, her fickle, hedonistic personality, were normal.

  “True enough. I just want you to know, even if I get angry or annoyed with you and Blondie, I’m with you. This quest… thing you’re doing… it’s… it’s my chance to do something good, something worthwhile with my life. I want to help. I want to be a part of it.”

  Pancras stopped untangling Stormheart’s mane and met her eyes.

  She reached out and touched his arm, her grip heated, on the verge of causing discomfort. “I don’t want my legacy to be nothing more than that of a prancing fool forced to debase herself to keep from starving. I want my life to have meant something in the end.”

  “I can understand that.” He placed his good hand on top of hers. “The quality of our legacy is measured by the lives we touch. The older I become, and now, especially, after what I’ve been through, I realize that making a difference in someone’s life is the best good we can do.”

  Chapter 22

  “I don’t expect us to be gone for more than a week.” Kale handed Ori a box of brushes from the crate they unloaded. “I guess you can use the hearth room if you want.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to worry about me. I intend to use this shop to do my work and ignore all the rest of the building.” Ori placed the brushes behind the counter and reached into the crate to retrieve a tray of inks.

  “That’s probably wise. Even I don’t mess with my sister’s stuff. Wizards are dangerous, you know.”

  “Oh, I know. Speaking of your sister,” Ori bit his lip and glanced up at Kale, “I don’t suppose she has a mate back where you come from or at the Arcane University?”

  Kale fought to keep a smile from crossing his face. He thought briefly about Zarach, but since Delilah hadn’t spoken of him since they left Drak-Anor last year, he shook his head. “No one I know of. Of course, I don’t know what she does all day at the Arcane University.”

  “Wizard business.” Ori spoke the words as a solemn vow. He glanced down the hallway toward the door leading to the cellar stairs. “Maybe you can put in a good word for me during your journey? I’m a hard worker, loyal. I would never do anything to harm her in any way.”

  Kale chuckled. “You’ve only just met. We’ve only just met. I don’t know a thing about you.” He poked Ori in the chest. “You could be a spy for Boss Steelhand for all we know.”

  Ori’s face dropped, and his shoulders slumped. He shuffled to the next crate and nodded. “Oh. You have no reason to trust me. I understand.”

  “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up. I’ll talk to her, sure. She’s always busy though, doing things, wizard things. You know.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Kale’s promise seemed to lift Ori’s spirits a bit.

  They spent the next few hours unpacking and sorting through Ori’s tools and supplies. By the time Kali and Delilah returned from the cavern, Ori declared the work done. “Good enough for now. I’ll likely rearrange as I work out my routine.”

  The once-empty storefront resembled an artist’s studio. Even to Kale’s untrained eye, he noticed improvements in the working conditions could be had by making minor adjustments in the shop’s furniture and layout. He planned to leave that to Ori, though.

  “So, are we leaving right away? Kali and I still need to pack our gear.”

  Delilah chewed one of her claws. “I’d like to leave today, if possible. Gather your gear, and meet me at the Arcane University gates. I have a few things I need to pick up from there before we leave.”

  “Sounds good.” Kale and Kali left Ori to fidget with his supplies while they packed. Kale liked to travel light, but he packed his puzzle box and a handful of dried, cured meat. He checked his daggers and helped Kali buckle on her daggers and harness.

  “Think I’ll need a cloak?”

  Kale eyed his. “I
won’t. The mountain might be chilly, but it’s still summer.”

  She rolled up one and shoved it into her pack. Kali tossed Kale’s hat at him. “Don’t forget this. My mate must be rakish and handsome if we’re going to meet a dragon.”

  Ori was in the midst of sorting through brushes and vials of ink when they left.

  “We’ll be back. We’re trusting you, Ori.”

  The blue drak glanced up and placed his hand across his chest. “I won’t let you down. You’ll return to find everything exactly as you left it. I promise.”

  Kale hoped the drak was as good as his word. As they made their way through the markets of the undercity, Kale noticed the other draks still stared, though they made far less of a commotion than they used to. The potato-cart-pushing minotaur’s eyes widened when he noticed them, but when no other draks rushed them, he relaxed a little and grunted an acknowledgement as Kale and Kali passed him.

  Before leaving the undercity, Kali stopped at a weaponsmith. She browsed through the selection of drak-forged swords. “If there’s a chance we’ll have to fight giants, I want something with a bigger bite than a dagger.”

  Kale sympathized, but he decided to stick with the daggers in his bandoleer. He never trained with anything else and didn’t want to be responsible for injuring one of his friends or his mate in the heat of battle. He pulled his cloak over his head and wrapped it tight around him while his mate selected a single-edged blade that pitched forward toward the point. The grip was styled in the shape of a nailtooth head.

  The drak weaponsmith, a lanky fellow with midnight-blue scales, rubbed his black-clawed hands together. “Ah, my finest falcata. Note the grip: the finest oil-rubbed walnut, and the spine reinforcement is forged brass.”

  Kali swung the weapon through the air a few times. The grip fit her hand perfectly. “How much?”

  “Ten crowns.”

  “Ten?” Kali sheathed the blade and thrust it at him. “Nonsense. Take it, you swindler!”

  “Ten is a bargain! I sold the last one to a stupid human for fifteen crowns.” He made no move to take the weapon from her.

  Kali examined the grip closely. “It’s not worth more than six. There’s pitting on these rivets.”

  “Oh, you wound me!” The weaponsmith clutched his chest and staggered backward. “I have a mate and three hatchlings to feed. You would see them starve tonight?” He recovered and snatched the weapon from her. Peering at the rivets on the hilt, he snorted. “These aren’t pits! They’re depictions of The Bear!”

  The constellation associated with Adranus, god of craftsmen, The Bear was often depicted in subtle ways by smiths to honor him. Kale put his hand on the weapon. “Look, we’re in a rush. We’ll give you seven crowns. You wouldn’t want her to go into giant territory with just those puny daggers, would you?”

  “The Striped One!” The weaponsmith’s eyes widened in awe. Kale caught him before he dropped to his knees.

  “None of that. I’m just a regular drak, like you.”

  “You are He with Wings, the Striped One! You will deliver us from our oppressors!”

  For a moment, Kale was tempted to ask for the weapon for no charge. Instead, he shook his head. “No, no, no. Those are just stories. Look, we just want to buy the sword, and we’ll be on our way. Six crowns is too much, but my mate is offering seven.”

  The weaponsmith chomped his teeth together and grumbled. “I’ll give it to you for eight.”

  Kali took the falcata from the weaponsmith. “Eight, plus you throw in a whetstone.”

  “Deal!”

  The two draks paid the weaponsmith, gathered their purchases, and rushed to make up lost time, weaving in, out, and around the legs of humans and minotaurs alike as they dashed to the upper city. Delilah waited for them by the university gates. The human girl waited with her, playing with the hem of her grey robe.

  “You’re bringing a human?” Kale spoke in Drak. He was sure that wasn’t what his sister meant when she told him she had a few things to pick up.

  “The archmage said I could take some resources from the university to help me, so Katka is going as my assistant.”

  “She’s still wearing novice robes.” Kali cocked her head.

  “I understand some Drak, you know.” Katka crossed her arms over her chest.

  Kale felt heat rush into his face. “Sorry. It’s just… it’s going to be dangerous.”

  “And you want to make sure I’m not a liability, right?”

  Delilah patted Katka on the shoulder. “Kali, don’t worry about her. I wouldn’t bring her along if I thought she wasn’t ready. Two wizards are better than one, and there’s no one else I trust.”

  Kale shrugged. “Fine with me, really. I’m thrilled she doesn’t tower over us to be honest. It’s always hard to sneak around when there’s someone twice your size hanging over you.” He wasn’t sure if Katka was short or if she was so young that she had not finished growing. He hoped it was the former. Hatchlings had no business trekking into the mountains in search of a dragon. Katka was taller than a drak, but nowhere near the height of the university guards or even Pancras.

  Shielding her eyes with her hand, Delilah checked the sky. “Let’s get moving. If we hurry, we might be able to reach the base of the mountain trail before dusk.”

  They stopped at the stables on their way out of Muncifer to pick up their lizard mounts. Katka marveled at the sight of Fang, Blackclaw, and Taavi. Nailtooth lizards were a rare sight in Muncifer. The lizards bounced from foot to foot and hissed as the draks saddled and mounted up, eager to stretch their legs.

  “My family’s farm is just outside of town.” Katka pointed to the northwest. “I’ll go retrieve my horse and catch up with you tonight. They won’t eat him, will they?”

  Delilah patted Fang’s neck and shook her head. “I’ve been conjuring boggins for them to eat, so they should leave your horse alone.

  “You’re pretty small for a human.” Kali fought to keep her mount from rearing. “I’ll bet Taavi can carry us both. It’ll be faster, and we won’t have to worry about keeping the lizards from having a horse snack.”

  Katka wrapped her arms around herself and furrowed her brow. “I’ve never ridden double on a lizard before.”

  “Me neither.” Kali reached behind to her saddle bag and pulled out a blanket. She held it out to Katka. The girl folded the blanket and tucked the edge under the back of the saddle before settling in behind Kali, and the three draks spurred their mounts into a run. Despite the extra weight, Taavi kept up with Fang and Blackclaw. After a few hours, they increased their pace across the rolling farmland west of Muncifer.

  Kale felt energized to be out of the city and on the move again. Invigorated by the possibilities the wider world offered, part of him was tempted to engaged in endless exploration; he wanted to keep riding and never turn back. The thought was fleeting, however, as he enjoyed the comforts of home more than his bedroll.

  As dusk fell, the city became a dot on the western horizon, and snow-capped mountains filled the view ahead. The deeply rutted dirt road servicing nearby farms gave way to a trail few wagons or carts traveled. The trail cut an irregular, dirty scar through a sea of green grasses and brush of the foothills and overlooked a creek that carried cool, mountain snowmelt down to the Icymist River.

  They made camp on the banks of the creek, in a hollow carved out of a hill by a flood many years earlier. The lizards’ claws clicked on the rocks as they shuffled, eager for their evening feeding. Delilah and Katka took care of the nailtooths while Kale and Kali set up camp. By the time the wizards returned, Kale tended a roaring fire as Kali skinned a pair of rabbits she’d hunted. Fatigue and full bellies ushered them to sleep under constellations wheeling above in the night sky.

  * * *

  Another day and a half of riding passed before they saw the ruins of what Gisella assumed was Dawnwatch Keep. They passed to the north of the keep, its crumbling walls marking what was once the eastern edge of Etrunia. The
furthest outpost from the throne in Almeria, it appeared not to have been occupied for some time. A tower stood at each of the four corners of the outer wall, monuments to Etrunia’s negligence of the far reaches of her realm.

  A chestnut tree protruded through the keep’s roof, its canopy providing shade to at least a third of the structure. Two squirrels chased each other up the tree’s trunk, disappearing into the leaves

  “Is this the place Lady Aveline told us to avoid?” Pancras halted Stormheart next to Gisella and Moonsilver.

  “Dawnwatch.” “It doesn’t look so bad.” Qaliah trotted up on Comet. She spun her horse around. “Run down, but not dangerous.”

  “It must have been abandoned for decades.” Moonsilver stomped her feet and whinnied as Gisella stroked the mare’s neck.

  “With the tree taking over part of the keep, and those crumbling walls”—Pancras shook his head—“the whole thing could come down at any time.”

  Gisella glanced upward toward the sun. “We still have several hours of daylight, so there’s no need to stop here anyway. If we push hard, we can probably reach Cliffport by tomorrow evening.”

  They spurred their horses and pushed on. The lands between Dawnwatch and Cliffport were not officially claimed by anyone, though most assumed they belonged to Etrunia. Cliffport itself was a free city, unbeholden to any crown, save for that of its Merchant-Prince. Gisella visited once, years ago while she tracked a rogue wizard.

  She found Cliffport to be unremarkable and dull. A massive temple to Nethuns and a few shrines to other gods dotted the city’s center, but the harbor defined it. Surrounded by cliffs and protected by watchtowers carved into those same cliffs, the city lived and died by its maritime trade. Almost everyone who lived there supported themselves by providing services to the sailors and traders who passed through.