Malediction (Scars of the Sundering Book 1) (5 page)

The small
home she shared with Kale was located at the far end of the market near the
council tower. What was once little more than a hole in the ground, another
antechamber in the vast system of caverns, tunnels, and lava tubes that made up
Drak-Anor, was now a homey hole, filled with Kale's tools and half-completed
machines and the scrolls and books from which she taught herself sorcery. Her
eyes lingered on a beat-up codex she acquired from a trader a few years ago, a
lexicon for the common trade language used by surfacers. She picked it up.
I
guess I need to buckle down and study this.

Kale lay in
his bed. Their beds were in the back room, one on each side of the hearth. She
stuck her head through the door. He looked up at her, shoving off his blankets.

"Hey.
What's going on?"

Delilah sat down
on the edge of her bed and flipped through the lexicon. "I'm leaving with
Pancras tomorrow."

Kale sat up,
his jaw agape and his brow furrowed. "I thought you weren't going?"

"Stupid
Pancras made me feel guilty." She shut the book and tossed it on her pillow.
"He made a good point: if they send Slayers after us, a lot of people will
die in the fight."

"Oh,
well, then I'm going with you!" Kale rolled out of bed and bounced to
Delilah.

She shook
her head. "Jared said you needed rest."

"If you
were going to Ironkrag or maybe even Celtangate, I'd let you go, but Muncifer
might as well be the other side of the world. Do you even know how far away it
is?"

"Pancras
said a couple of months. If we can find horses." Delilah slumped, propping
her head with her elbows on her knees.

Kale sat on
the bed next to her. He put his arm around her and hugged her, resting his head
on her shoulder. "We need to stick together, Deli. We're a team."

Delilah
loved her brother, but his determination to stick together now twisted her guts
up more than the thought of leaving him behind. She thought of Zarach and the
conversation her brother interrupted last night.

"Kale,
have you ever thought about taking a mate? Maybe starting a family?"

He lifted
his head off her shoulder and picked at his claws. "Well, sure, but none
of the clans here in Drak-Anor want anything to do with us."

"That's
not exactly true. The Stoneclaw clan might."

"Might
what?" He cocked his head, and then his eyes widened. "Hey! That's
Zarach's clan!" He gasped and leapt to his feet. "Did you mate with
him? Were you going to abandon me?"

Delilah
jumped to her feet, hand on her hips. "Kale! What I do with him is none of
your business, and I would never abandon you!"

"You did,
didn't you!" He peered at her stomach. "Are you going hatch a bunch
of draklings?"

Throwing up
her hands, Delilah groaned. "No! I told him if anything like that were to
happen, Stoneclaw would have to take you in, too." She took his hands.
"It's like you said: we're a team."

Kale shook
his head, his lips curled in disgust. "I'm not mating with Zarach and
you."

"Don't
be stupid. He's not coming with us. It'll be Pancras, you, and me.
Apparently." Delilah dropped Kale's hand and left the bedroom. She went to
the closest pile and rooted through it, looking for something to take with her.

"Do…"
Kale leaned in the doorway. "Do you think Stoneclaw clan has any females
for me?"

"Probably."
Delilah didn't want to spend the rest of the day talking about a possible
future with the Stoneclaws. She sighed and moved to another pile. "Look,
why don't you go talk to Terrakaptis?"

"Oh,
yeah, good idea. Let him know we're leaving." Kale grabbed his bandoleer
and strapped it across his body. "Maybe he'll give us a lift. Muncifer is
a lot closer if you're flying!"

Delilah
nodded as Kale ran out of their home.
Fat chance of that, but at least
you're out of my scales for a while.

Chapter 3

His
anxieties over his sister's blossoming relationship with Zarach Stoneclaw
forgotten, Kale raced through the tunnels that led up out of Drak-Anor to the
caldera of Bloodplume, the extinct volcano in which the city lay.

The tunnel
led to a ledge which wound around the interior of the main lava shaft. The top
of the shaft opened to the outside, and sunlight streamed in, giving warmth to
the cool, late-autumn air. Boughs of the World Tree, its violet leaves as
bright and vibrant as the day it sprouted, cloaked part of the shaft in shadow.

Kale climbed
the path until it terminated in the caldera. The sloping sides of the crater
cradled the World Tree like a stone cup. The treasures the Earth Dragon brought
up from his underground lair caught the sunlight and glittered, motes of light
sparkling in the dappled shade of the tree like stars on a moonless night.

Terrakaptis
lay on a boulder in the sun, soaking up the warmth like a cat. His deep-red
scales gleamed like polished rosewood, and although they appeared supple and
yielding, Kale knew they were harder than forged iron.

The Earth
Dragon, the offspring of Rannos the Great Dragon and Gaia the Earth Mother, was
thousands of years old, although Kale could not say exactly how many thousands.
He knew Terrakaptis lived through The Sundering, which was over seven hundred
and fifty years ago.

Kale cleared
his throat, hoping the sound was loud enough to rouse Terrakaptis. The dragon's
eye snapped open, and upon seeing Kale, he stretched and sat up.

"Ah, my
little drak. Come to see me again? How long have I slept?"

"About
six months this time."

The dragon
lowered his head to look more directly at Kale. "Not so long, then."

"My
sister and I have to leave for a while." Kale informed Terrakaptis about
the human wizards and their upcoming journey to Muncifer. "I'm sorry we'll
have to put off the adventure you talk about bit longer."

"It is
I who must apologize. You've waited patiently to travel with me for years. It
takes time to awaken from a thousand years of slumber." Terrakaptis
yawned, his maw filled with teeth as big as Kale. "When you return, you
will be ready to journey with me to wake my brothers and sisters."

It was supposed
to be the very next spring. Then the next, and the next.
Kale shook
his head. "I don't know how long it will be. Muncifer is a long way."

"No
matter how long you take, it will be a short while to me."

"I
don't suppose"—Kale looked down at his feet and shuffled them—"I
don't suppose you could fly us there?"

Terrakaptis
shook his head. "No, little one. Robbing you of this journey would do you
a disservice. I sense something about you, a coming change. I smell… chaos. You
need this time. Besides"—Terrakaptis drew himself up, towering over Kale
and covering the drak with his shadow—"I am a dragon, not a pony."

Kale bowed,
aware he may have overstepped his bounds. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to
offend. I just thought… it can't hurt to ask"—he looked up at Terrakaptis—"right?"

The dragon's
deep, booming laugh shook the leaves of the World Tree. "Of course, not,
little drak."

He turned
and dug through the piles of treasure surrounding the base of the tree. "I
have something here to aid you on your journey." Terrakaptis continued
digging through the pile until his head disappeared from sight. Kale ducked and
dodged as platters and goblets made of precious metals flew over the dragon's
shoulders and toward him.

"Ah
ha!" Terrakaptis emerged from the pile, holding a golden box, which was
dwarfed by the size of his claws. He placed it on the ground before Kale. The
box was small enough that the drak could pick it up with one hand, and it was
lighter than he expected. Intricate carvings covered its surfaces, and cutaways
in the side panels revealed complex mechanisms within.

"What
is it?" Kale turned it over in his hands as he inspected it.

"A
puzzle box, created by a drak craftsman during the Age of Legend."

"Before
The Sundering?" Kale whistled. If what the dragon said was true, the box
was over a thousand years old, yet appeared to have been recently crafted. He
could not find a way to open the box. "What's in it? How do I open
it?"

"I do
not know." Terrakaptis stretched out, his head near Kale. He flicked
through another pile with one claw. "It's a puzzle. The challenge and
reward, I suspect, lies in solving the puzzle. The contents could be even older
than the box, or newer. It might be nothing, or a trinket, or a forgotten
memory. I'm sure you have tools with which to tinker during your journey. I
have something for your sister, as well."

Kale nodded,
transfixed by the box. He observed clockwork mechanisms below the gears and
wheels, visible through the cutaways, which must have taken tiny hands years to
put into place.

"Here
it is." Terrakaptis pulled a book out of the pile and slid it to rest
before Kale. The leather was dark and cracked with age, but Kale recognized
Drak writing on the cover. It was held shut with tarnished silver clasps.

"Grimoire
of Gil-Li the Graven." He looked up at Terrakaptis. "A book?"

"Mm,
yes, a book. A vast codex, also from the Age of Legend, written by one of the
foremost scholars of the arcane arts in that time, Gil-Li the Graven, a drak of
some renown, as I understand. I never met her myself. The tome came to me
through one of my followers. He said she bequeathed it to the ages, in penance
for her failure to prevent the doom to come." The dragon shrugged. "I
assume she was referring to The Sundering. It's possible he killed her and took
this as a prize for me. It's irrelevant now. It belongs in the hands of a drak.
I'm sure Delilah will learn well from it."

Kale opened
the cover of the book. The leather creaked in protest, and realizing the pages
within were fragile, he closed it. "Thank you. I'll take it to her right
away."

"Tell
her to be wary. Gil-Li's knowledge was vast. She lived an unnaturally long life.
It was said she was born in the Age of Dreams." Terrakaptis tapped the
cover of the book. "There is power to be unlocked within that could
conquer nations."

Kale's eyes
widened, and he stepped away from the tome.

Terrakaptis
laughed. "Or, maybe those are all just stories! There is magic in it, for
sure, some of which was lost to the world, but the power to change history? I
suppose that all depends on who reads it, hm? Oh, there is just one more
thing." Terrakaptis poked Kale in the chest with an outstretched claw.
"
Draevyehfehdin
!"

Tendrils of
green, blue, and red magic swirled around Kale, buffeting the drak as they
encircled him and converged on the Earth Dragon's claw. Amidst a burst of
multi-colored light, Kale stumbled back. He looked down to see a smoking rune
emblazoned on his scales.

"There,
just in case. Now, should you happen upon any of my kin, you have been
marked."

Kale brushed
the smoke away. Surprised he felt no pain from the brand, he looked up at the
ancient dragon. "Marked? What do you mean?"

Terrakaptis
yawned and crossed his arms. He laid down his head and regarded Kale. "You
have been marked Draevyehfehdin: a friend and kin of draev, dragons. They will
at least talk to you now before devouring you!" Terrakaptis chuckled and
closed his eyes. "Now, you should go, my little drak. Go have your
adventure. When you return, we will embark on the journey to awaken my
kin!"

* * *

Pancras
hefted his pack. It was still heavier than he liked. If he had a horse-drawn
cart, he wouldn't be worried, but he knew he must hike down out of the
mountains before that even became a possibility. No one in Drak-Anor sold pack
animals, and the only animals in Ironkrag belonged to traders who used them for
commerce. He doubted he could persuade any of them to part with their animals
for a fair price.

Sighing, he
opened his pack and looked inside to see what he might leave behind. Pancras
pulled out his crucible and tossed it aside but left the mortar and pestle. He
leafed through the scrolls in his pack, removing all the necromantic scrolls.
Since he no longer created zombies and skeletons, he didn't need them. Leaving
his prized scrolls behind was painful; yet, was the meager weight savings was
worth it?
Maybe I can sell them to someone at the Arcane University.
A
set of robes, perhaps? The black robes? No, that's foolish. I need those.
He
returned the scrolls to the pack and looked around his room.

Flicking
candles provided dim illumination. The crackling, popping fire in the bedroom
took the chill out of the air, even in his library far down the hall. Pancras
stepped over to the shelf upon which he kept his tools. Knives, snips, hooks,
and probes used to gather and test reagents were scattered about. He sighed.
Alchemy required many more tools and accoutrements than what little he needed
while he actively practiced necromancy.

"It's
still too damned heavy!" He stood up and kicked his pack. His hoof clipped
the edge of his mortar with a clink. "I hate traveling."

"Having
trouble letting things go?"

The minotaur
jumped at Sarvesh's voice. He did not expect such stealth from the seven-foot
tall, hoofed faerie. He turned and shook his head, jingling the gold rings in
his ears.

"It's
difficult deciding what to bring and what to leave behind."

Sarvesh
nodded and carried a small chest into the room, his wings spread to aid his
balance, and his hoofs clopped on the stone floor as he moved forward. He
placed the chest on the workbench. "You won't be gone forever. Just take
that which you cannot live without."

Scratching
his head, Pancras pulled a stool over to the bench and sat down. "That's
what I'm having trouble deciding. It was easier when I practiced necromancy. I
could always have my undead carry things for me."

"You
won't be alone, so you need not bring everything. Besides"—Sarvesh pulled
up a stool and slid the chest toward his friend—"you can buy anything you
find you need while on the road." He tapped on the chest. "Enough to
pay your and Delilah’s dues, your fines, advance dues until you're dead,
probably, and enough extra for any incidental expenses you'll accrue. Silver,
gold, and gems for those who will take them."

Pancras
gripped the top of the workbench to keep from falling off his stool. "I… I
don't know how to thank you." He reached up and fingered his gold
earrings.
These might fetch a good price in an emergency, as well.

Dismissing
the minotaur's thanks with a wave of his hand, Sarvesh shook his head. "No
thanks needed. If we had paid you a regular wage all these years, you probably
would have earned more than the contents of this chest anyway. You've been here
what? Twenty years now?"

"Twenty
five."
Has it been that long?
Hearing himself say the words somehow
gave them veracity. He had come to know their leader in the past ten years or
so, but Drak-Anor and its environs had been his home for much longer. "You
know, when you first arrived, we were sure you would become the next Twilight
Overlord. We expected you to knock old Bonehead's skull off the first day he
waved his mace in the air and yelled at you."

Sarvesh
nodded. "Believe me. There were days I wanted to. But I didn't want to be
Overlord."

"Those
reluctant to lead often make the best leaders. I knew you weren't a demon the
first day I met you, although I wasn't quite sure what you were. At that point,
fae more exotic than elves had been gone from the world for so long, most
people forgot there were other fae."

Sarvesh
shifted on his stool spreading his wings for balance. "You knew,
huh?"

"It was
obvious to me. Demons can be terrible or beautiful to behold, but all of them
exude an aura of fear, a sense of… wrongness. They make one's stomach twist up
in knots and want to crawl into a hole and die so one cannot be found."
Pancras chuckled. "You can be intimidating, but you're not terrifyingly
fearsome."

"Well,
thanks." Sarvesh smirked. "You know the dwarves used to call me a
demon of flame and fury?"

Pancras
laughed. "I remember Delilah telling me about that."

"What
am I going to do without you and Delilah around?"

"You'll
manage." Pancras smiled. "Maybe one of the faeries who enter our
realm through the nexus can help you out."

Sarvesh
threw back his head and laughed. "I liked it better when there was no
nexus for other faeries to come through. Some days Drak-Anor feels like a
parade of fae weirdness. They can’t just pop in and be on their way. No, they
have to leave chaos in their wake." Few remained in Drak-Anor more than
one or two days before moving out to find forests and glens in Calliome where
they were needed, as living underground did not appeal to them.

“Fae are
born of chaos. You’re a living example of that.” Pancras referred to the cloven
hooves, wings, and horns that made his friend resemble a demon rather than what
most surfacers thought of as fae.