Lament (Scars of the Sundering Book 2) (26 page)

Conner led the way. “I don’t know
anything about a cursed store, but the Shadowbridge is this way. It’s the
deepest bridge and never gets sunlight. Most of the shops down there closed
years ago. It’s not cursed, as far as I know, just… abandoned.”

Connor’s hypothesis sounded more
likely to Delilah than a shop of curses and woe. Most cities had areas that
fell into disrepair now and again, lying in wait for someone to come along and
renovate. Each time they encountered draks, they required Delilah gave a
“blessing” before they would leave them be. She confirmed from a couple who
were particularly persistent that Kale was seen entering a street near the
Shadowbridge, and the only buildings there were abandoned shops, warehouses,
and evil omens.

The street didn’t appear
abandoned to Delilah. There was a handful of draks crowded around outside of a
shop, peering in through windows so filthy they may as well have been staring
at a brick wall.

“Here now!” Delilah decided to
exert her authority as a Child of Destiny again. “What are you all looking at?”

“Another stripe!”

“Deliverer!”

Delilah tapped the butt of her
staff on the walkway. “Enough of that! What’s going on here? You’ve seen the
striped, winged drak?”

“He’s inside!”

“He toils without end!”

“
Go away
.” Delilah
clenched her jaw and held up her hands. “The blessing of Rannos go with you,
but you must give us striped draks time and breathing space.” She turned her
eyes upward and shook her head as the draks thanked her and scurried off. She
felt Katka and Conner’s disapproving glances on her back as she banged on the
door.

The door cracked open, and an eye
studied her.

“Deli?
Deli
!” Kale flung
the door open and tackled his sister. The two draks fell into a heap. Kale
laughed and squeezed her as Delilah gasped for breath.

“By Maris’s bloody spear, Kale…
what are you doing down here?” Delilah pushed her brother off her and stood
with Katka’s aid. The girl handed Delilah her staff. “This is Katka and Conner,
by the way. They’re friends from the Arcane University. Good folk, for humans.”

“Oh, thanks.” Conner’s voice
dripped with sarcasm. He and Katka crouched to enter the shop, but Katka, at
least, was able to stand inside without stooping.

“This is the shop, Deli! The one
I wanted to show you. Kali and I bought it.”

Delilah was halfway through the
door by the time Kale’s words penetrated her brain. “You what?” She blinked and
stared at her brother.
Surely he didn’t just say
—

“We bought it. I didn’t want to
risk anyone else finding what we found. The city let us have it for cheap, as
long as we clean it up—”

“So that’s what we’ve been doing
while you’ve been off playing wizard games.” Kali entered from the back room
and dusted off her hands.

Delilah scanned the
cobweb-filled, dusty shop. She feared to learn what Kale considered dirty if
the front room’s state was what he considered clean. Her knees felt weak, and
her brain became numb from Kale’s revelation. She let Kali’s sarcasm go
unanswered.

“Let me show you what I found,
Deli.” Kale took her hand and led her through the shop. The back room was
cleaner than the front, and a small fire crackled in the hearth. Down a short
hallway, she noticed sleeping chambers that were clean by most standards, and
she realized that Kale and his mate just hadn’t been around to the storefront
yet.

“Oh, hey, do you trust these
humans? Maybe we shouldn’t show them—”

Delilah dismissed his concerns
with a wave of her hand. “They’re fine.” She looked at her friends, “Right?
You’re not going to go blabbing about this, are you? I guess, technically, this
is all my brother’s private property.”

Katka glanced at Conner before
she shrugged and nodded. Conner nodded and raised his hands. “I’ll keep my
mouth shut, as long as I can talk to your brother about those wings. I’ve never
seen a drak with wings! Can you fly?”

“Oh, sure.” Kale’s face lit up.
“It’s a long story, but I don’t mind if you don’t. It started about a year ago
when—”

“Kale!” Delilah punched her
brother in the shoulder. “Later! What are you going to show me?”

“Oh, right.” Kale rubbed his
shoulder and led them to a locked door at the end of the hallway. Behind the
door was a staircase that spiraled down into darkness.

Delilah lit her staff. Rows of
bookcases bordering the stairwell took away her breath. “What are all these
books?” Their musty odor suggested they must be centuries old. She reached out
to grab the nearest tome.

Kale grabbed her hand and shook
his head. “The books are the bonus. I think they’re magic. At least, most of
them are, but they’re really old. What I want to show you is at the bottom.”

Kali stuck her head in the
stairwell. “I’ll make sure no one becomes too curious. Don’t be long. I’m
hungry.”

The stairs descended well below
street level. Delilah felt the weight of the earth above her and found it
comforting, like being home again in Drak-Anor. She tried to scan the books as
she descended the stairs, but if there were any titles written on the spines,
they were long since lost to the ravages of time.

At the bottom of the stairs, a
short corridor led to another door with an intricate clockwork mechanism.
Conner gasped as he examined it and recoiled when it clicked to life as Kale
opened it.

Delilah entered the chamber
beyond the clockwork door. Lights in sconces sprang to life, illuminating the
room with glowing gems. Noticing the walls were carved from the rock that
surrounded the room, she felt drawn to a stone circle in the center of the
chamber.

“Wow, the lights didn’t come on
when I found this place!” Kale nudged his sister and pointed at the circle.
“That’s what I wanted to show you. The runes are some form of Ancient Drak, I
think. I can’t read most of it. I found the sigil of Selene and one for
Rannos.”

Delilah noted the sigils of which
Kale spoke. The runes on the stones were Ancient Drak writings in the language
of magic. She could read the words, but she didn’t understand their meanings.
The center of the circle was an odd black surface, and she found it difficult
to focus her eyes on it. When she stared directly at it, it seemed solid, flat,
almost like obsidian. From her peripheral vision, though, it appeared to be a
roiling liquid, like a lampblack ocean during a storm.

“What is this place?” Katka’s
voice was filled with wonder, and she spun as she gawked at the room.

Conner’s expression was much the
same. “I can feel the magic in here. Can’t you? It’s old. So old.”

Delilah nodded. She turned on her
brother and gathered him up in a hug. “This is great! I’m sorry I doubted you!”

“Initiate Drak!” A booming voice
filled the room and filled Delilah with a combination of fear and dread. She
pushed her brother away and spun, pointing her staff in the direction of the
voice.

Where Delilah expected to see the
archmage, a shimmering image of him hovered before her. “Why are you not at the
Arcane University, Initiate Drak? I want you!” The image vanished in a puff of
red smoke.

The drak sorceress threw her
staff through the mist as the image vanished. It clattered against the floor as
she stomped her foot. “I’m a novice now, damn it!”

* * *

The familiar anxieties about
dark, disturbing dreams raced through Pancras’s thoughts as he drifted off to
sleep. The shadow spoke mostly in his dreams, and even if he was unable to
remember details, lingering effects made themselves felt throughout the next
day. This night, however, Pancras dreamed of a raven-haired woman, shepherding
the souls of the recently departed.

He dreamed of Aita.

When Pancras awoke the next
morning, he realized the shadow was well and truly gone. He awoke feeling
cleansed, refreshed, and energized. The sun peeked over the eastern horizon,
brilliant rays piercing the clouds, a phenomenon people called “Apellon’s
Harp.”

Gisella was next to rise. She
called to Pancras as he walked toward the fort’s main gate. “I’m not sure it’s
safe to go alone.”

“If anything remains, it’s just
vermin and scavengers. Anything undead was destroyed.” Pancras entered the
fort. The pyres were reduced to smoldering ash with bits of bone visible where
the bonfire collapsed. Pancras hoped to find a weapon in the fort. While he
could defend himself with magic alone, especially now that the shadow demon was
gone, a Bonelord of Aita was expected to carry some sort of weapon. The
bonelord whom Pancras encountered several years prior carried a flanged mace
that throbbed with the power of the Princess of the Underworld. When he
utilized his power, the mace’s head changed into that of a gleaming skull.

Pancras needed such a symbol if
he were to carry out Aita’s will in this world. His brief communion with the
goddess imparted much. It didn’t have to be a mace, per se, but his rod or the
gilded horn tips he wore were unsuitable.

“What are you doing?” Gisella
leaned on one of the smithy’s vertical supports. Pancras hadn’t realized she
followed him. He chuckled; his mind was in the clouds.

“Looking for a weapon.” He held
up his rod. “I can’t bash skeletons apart with this.”

Gisella nudged a half-forged
sword with her foot. “You might have better luck in the armory. Everything up
here appears broken or unfinished.”

Together, they entered the keep
and stepped down into the armory. For Gisella’s benefit, Pancras illuminated
his rod. Racks of swords lined the armory walls, and a couple of racks of
spears leaned against the back wall. Gisella replaced her spear with one that
had a long, flanged tip. Pancras found a rack of maces and flails tucked into
one corner, but none of the weapons particularly appealed to him. A weapon
hiding in the shadows alongside one of the spear racks caught his eye.

The spiked head sat on the floor;
the handle leaned against the spear rack. Pancras lifted the morning star, and
a spider at work building its web skittered away. Heavy, brutal, it was forged
from steel, and the spikes were as long as Pancras’s smallest finger.

“That would certainly bash
skeletons to pieces.”

Pancras hefted the weapon. It was
balanced for someone shorter than he, but he decided it would be adequate for
now. “I’ll put it to good use until I can have a weapon more suitable for me
made. It’s a human’s weapon.”

“What’s wrong with human
weapons?” Gisella preceded him up the stairs to the keep’s main level.

“Nothing, it’s just not weighted
right for me. I have a longer reach.” He swung it through the air. “It doesn’t
matter. I doubt I’ll have to use it. I don’t have a lot of experience with this
sort of weaponry.”

“Maces and morning stars are
easier. You just bash until your adversary stops moving.” Gisella patted her
scabbard. “They don’t require as much finesse as a sword.”

Until he saw her after his
resurrection, Pancras never even noticed Gisella’s sword. It was a handsome
blade, with a wire-wrapped ivory handle. “You seem to prefer the spear.”

“I prefer to keep my opponents
far enough away that they cannot stick their swords into me.”

Pancras agreed. They returned to
their camp to find Qaliah prodding the fire, trying to coax more life out of
the burning embers.

The fiendling glanced up. “Did
everything stay dead that was supposed to?”

Pancras slid the handle of his
new weapon through the loop on his saddle. “Quite. Wake the dwarf. We’ll break
our fast and then break camp. We have a long ride ahead of us still.” Pancras
rummaged through his saddlebag for food.

“Aren’t you chipper? Maybe I
should try being dead.” The fiendling kicked the dwarf’s legs. “Get up, Edric!”

The dwarf cursed and groaned. His
desire to leave the keep behind outweighed his desire to remain asleep, so
without much more prodding, he arose. They ate a quick meal and scattered the
remaining embers before saddling their horses and mounting up.

A day of fair weather and good
spirits helped Pancras sort through the past day’s events. Never before had he
felt he followed a greater purpose. When he first left Muncifer after becoming
a wizard, Pancras escaped sad memories and prejudice against those who didn’t
conform to expectations. Some of that was his necromancy, the rest was his love
of Thanos. A love of which neither his nor Thanos’s parents approved. Most of
the community frowned upon it as well.

Drak-Anor was better. Serving the
Twilight Overlord was a job that allowed him to practice necromancy and
alchemy, and most of the Overlords left him alone. When he became involved with
Sarvesh and the Twilight Defenders, his life changed again, and he found true
friends. Sarvesh’s sweeping changes, including the founding of the city of
Drak-Anor proper, gave him time to think again. He questioned the purpose of a
necromancer in a city, but Sarvesh convinced him to stay as a friend and
advisor, and Pancras happily served in that capacity. The more insight and
guidance he provided, the less need he found for necromancy.