Lament (Scars of the Sundering Book 2) (13 page)

“Yeah, I have lots of stories to
tell you. Let me get through these stupid Initiate Trials. Then I’ll come find
you.”

Jairo’s smile almost split his
head in half. “You will? That’s fantastic! You have no idea how big this is!”

* * *

Excitable draks aside, his
shopping trip with Delilah went well. It was a bittersweet afternoon for
Pancras, for it would be many months, if not years, before he saw her again. He
wished to have spent as much time with Kale, too, but he felt it was more
important to help settle Delilah. The drak sorceress was often volatile, and
she needed last-minute guidance, or Pancras feared her temper would lead her to
a bad end.

After ensuring Delilah returned
safely to The Granite Anvil, Pancras headed out again to acquire the provisions
he needed for the trip to Cliffport. He wasn’t sure how long the journey would
take, but according to the map the slayer showed him, it appeared be at least
twice as long as the trip from Almeria to Muncifer. He assumed there would be
settlements along the way from which to purchase supplies. The minotaur felt a
pang of nostalgia for his old haunts and decided to pay a visit to Gisella at
the Arcane University. Surely, a few extra days in Muncifer wouldn’t hurt.

As he entered the university
campus, he passed a group of novices and initiates practicing illusions. One
young man attempted to create an image of a beautiful woman and failed. Proper
illusions were supposed to be indistinguishable from reality at a quick glance,
and if they were exceptional, they held up under scrutiny. This man’s illusion
appeared more like a spectral painting, translucent and flat. The woman’s
movements were stiff, like an automaton’s.

It was a type of conjuration
Pancras never mastered, and as the novices poked fun at the young initiate’s
efforts, he felt a pang of sympathy for him. A female novice stood by, glancing
up from her book in irritation as the fiendling jester swatted at her with a
long feather and danced around her.

“Put up the book and have a look!
Don’t be dull. Don’t be droll. All the boys think you’re a troll!”

The novice snapped shut her book
and stormed off. Qaliah giggled and danced toward Pancras, despite his
purposeful gait and efforts to avoid eye contact.

“The slayer’s minotaur has
returned! Got any butter I can churn?”

Pancras stopped and spun on her.
Her dancing halted, and she raised her hands to her mouth, eyes wide. “Terribly
sorry! I—sometimes when I’m throwing out random rhymes, things don’t come out
quite right.”

Comparison to cows or other
four-legged bovine was a sure path to a minotaur’s bad side. Pancras tried to
ignore such insults, but they still upset him enough that he had difficulty
masking his reaction when he heard them. Minotaurs might resemble bovine
animals, but they were not in any way related. The insults served as a reminder
that facts did little to eradicate bigotry.

She pressed her hands together in
front of her and bowed her head, her singsong tone replaced by a deeper,
sultrier voice. “I beg forgiveness, Master. No insult was intended. Honestly, I
do know better than to make such comparisons.”

Qaliah’s demeanor became sober
compared to the lighthearted dancing, singing jester, and Pancras puzzled over
how both personalities existed within the same person. “Apology accepted.” He
decided to use her newfound seriousness to his advantage. “Tell me where the
Golden Slayer is, and all will be forgiven.”

“The last I saw, Master, she was
in the tavern.” Qaliah gestured in the direction of a squat building along the
compound’s east wall. “I did not notice whether or not she left it yet.”

“Thank you. Carry on.”

A grin overtook Qaliah’s face,
and she snapped her fingers and danced. “Hi ho, tummy rum! Drink some dummy
rum! Have enough rummy rum and your tummy will be having fun!”

Pancras cringed at the horrible
rhyme as he turned away from the jester and proceeded in the direction Qaliah
indicated. The tavern itself was small enough that it took only a quick scan
for Pancras to determine Gisella was not there.

The barkeep, a tall woman with
chiseled features, confirmed having seen Gisella. “She stopped in, bought a
couple of casks of mead, and then left. Didn’t stay long enough to say what she
was doing or where she was going.”

“Where does she live? Nearby?”

“I never asked.” The barkeep
offered Pancras a shrug and a smile. “Not my business.”

Pancras left the barkeep to tend
to her customers and returned to the courtyard. He noticed the jester turning
cartwheels near some initiates, who watched her intently. The initiates bowed
their heads in deference as the minotaur approached.

“Hey ho, dilly doe, it’s the tall
minotaur wizard! Ring-a-ding, ring-a-ding, what happened to your lizard?”

The initiates laughed and
applauded as she somersaulted and rolled into a bow in front of Pancras. She
looked up at him and cocked her head, a wry and slanted grin on her face.

“Can you tell me where the Golden
Slayer lives?”

“Hey-day dilly! Information don’t
come cheap! Cross my palm with coin, or I’ll not say a peep!”

Pancras fished in his pouch for a
copper penny, but he pulled out a silver talon, instead. He sighed and flipped
it to her. Qaliah snatched it out of the air and allowed it to roll down the
back of her hand before flipping it into the air and catching it again. She
spun around and pointed toward a square tower behind the Court of Wizardry.

“In the Guardian Tower, she makes
her dwelling be. You have my thanks for flipping this coin to me!” Qaliah
laughed and skipped away before Pancras asked a follow-up question. His hand
dropped to his rod unbidden.

“I really need to learn some sort
of restraining spells.”

The initiates raised their
eyebrows and regarded, first each other, and then him, and Pancras realized he
had spoken aloud. He coughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “My speciality
didn’t cover those… and she’s quite flighty; I wasn’t finished asking her
questions.”

He felt their eyes upon him. “You
should return to your studies.”

Pancras exited the courtyard,
suspecting the students probably made all manner of unsubstantiated judgements
and suppositions about him. He didn’t care. The Guardian Tower was a
four-story, square, crenelated structure connected to the rear wall of the
Arcane University. In Pancras’s day, the tower was used for student housing. No
new buildings had been added since Pancras was a student, and he was certain the
building across the courtyard contained classrooms.
Perhaps they’ve cleared
out all the old underground storage vaults and students live there.

Guardian Tower was built to
surround a small courtyard. Balconies on each level ran the circumference of
the interior, and each apartment faced inward toward the courtyard. He heard
stories of similar towers at other Arcane Universities, but those towers had no
stairs; students were required to learn levitation to access the upper levels.
That was never a requirement at the Muncifer university.

A couple of quick inquiries of
the guards he saw relaxing provided him the information he needed, and he
proceeded to the far side of the inner courtyard. Gisella’s apartment was the
center one. As it contained no marker or distinguishing features, Pancras hoped
he knocked on the correct door.

He heard thumping from within
before it opened. A fully armored Gisella greeted him. “Oh, it’s you. I was
expecting my sparring partner.”

“Sorry to disturb you.” Pancras
held up his hand and bowed his head. “I was buying supplies for Delilah and our
upcoming trip, and I realized it’s been a long while since I’ve been home. I
don’t suppose we could delay our start a few days?”

“No, that’s not going to be
possible.” Gisella vanished for a moment before she reappeared holding her
spear. “Anything else?”

Pancras looked away. “No, I
suppose not.” The minotaur hoped there would be room for negotiation. He wanted
to help Delilah through her first few days at the university, and perhaps visit
a few of his old haunts. “No matter, I apologize for the intrusion.”

“It’s no trouble. I have a few
things I need to finish before leaving tomorrow. I’ll see you then, at your
inn. Yes?”

“I shall be ready.” Pancras
wasn’t sure how he could ever be ready to abandon his friends and travel to
what felt like the other side of the world, but saying the words felt right.
That’s
the spell the archmage put on me talking.

He left Gisella to her tasks.
His
thoughts turned to the preparations for another long journey and his former
lover, Thanos. Following his lover’s ill-fated expedition to the Western
Wastes, so many years ago, Pancras left the Arcane University and Muncifer.
At
last, it is time to close that chapter fully.
He headed into the undercity.

The mercenary company Thanos
joined, the Band of the Griffon, still had an office in the undercity. Carved
into the bedrock, three levels below the upper city, the Band’s office was
little more than an antechamber and a series of rooms in which the mercenaries
bunked.

A corpulent minotaur with black
horns wider than his shoulders and a gnarled scar covering half his face
greeted Pancras when he entered. “Ho there, brethren. What business have you
with us today? Looking for work, or someone to work? How can old Reko help you?”

“Looking for information,
actually, about an old expedition. Well, about one of your members who went on
that expedition.”

“I’ve been with the company most
of my life, gave as much blood, sweat, and flesh as one can without dying. But,
I don’t know that I can help you. Why do you want this information?”

“A minotaur, called Thanos of the
Black Mountain minotaurs, went on an expedition to the Western Wastes over
twenty-five years ago. He was my lover. I’d heard that the entire expedition
was wiped out, killed by giants in the Dragonspine Mountains.” Pancras scanned
the room. Apart from a couple of tables and chairs in front of the hearth, a
tapestry covering one wall was the only ornamentation in it. The tapestry
depicted a variety of battles and the minotaurs who fought in them. “I was
passing through and thinking about him. Information about what happened back
then was spotty, and I was hoping someone could tell me something more
specific.”

“Thanos?” The old minotaur pulled
two chairs over to the hearth. He gestured for Pancras to join him. “I’ve known
many minotaurs called Thanos, but we haven’t crossed those mountains in twenty
years. Too much to do on this side of them.”

The way the old minotaur spoke
gave Pancras hope. “Do you remember him? He was about my size, more muscular,
but similar height. His horns turned up at the tips.”

“I remember.” Reko crossed his
arms over his chest and stared into the fire. “It wasn’t giants. They dwell in
the mountains in vast numbers, but that day, it was something else. A few of us
made it out.” Reko ran his hand down the scar that covered the left side of his
face. “Most didn’t. Now, I’ve never seen a dragon, but that’s what some of us
thought this thing was. It was savage, bestial. Skin like armor plates, not
scales. Fought us with tooth and claw. Thanos fought well. He dragged many of
his brothers to safety before the beast split him open.”

Pancras took a moment to absorb
what the old minotaur told him.
Thanos is as dead as he was when I thought
giants killed him
. “Thank you. It changes nothing, but it’s good to know he
earned his place in the Halls of the Valiant.”

“He did indeed.” Reko slapped
Pancras’s knee. “Come, I want to show you something.”

He guided Pancras into the
barracks. A handful of the bunks were occupied with sleeping minotaurs. Reko
pointed toward a head mounted on the wall. “We avenged them all a year later.”

The creature’s angular,
insect-like head was large enough to swallow a human whole, or bite a
minotaur’s head clean off, but it lacked the elegant and organic curves
characteristic of the one dragon he knew: Terrakaptis, who lived in the caldera
of Drak-Anor. It appeared to be some mad wizard’s idea of a dragon mated with a
beetle.

“Did it have a lair?”

Reko rubbed the mounted head’s
chin. “Yes. It was deep in a cave, filled with blood, slime, and all manner of
vermin and things I still see in my nightmares. We had some of the sages at the
Arcane University come examine it, but no one could identify it. I’d always
heard dragons were graceful, beautiful, but this… this is the ugliest damned
thing I’ve ever seen.”

Pancras decided it also topped of
his own list of ugly things as well. He thanked Reko for his time and stopped
by a provisioner’s shop on his way back to The Granite Anvil. He arranged for
the supplies he needed to be delivered to the livery where Stormheart was
stabled.

Time for one last meal—no—feast
with my friends before we part ways.

Chapter 8

Pancras described the parting as
a bitter, sad moment. Delilah would have chosen stronger words. The rough-spun
beige robes the university forced her to wear chafed against her scales, and
more than ever, she wanted to make a break for it with Pancras.

“It’ll never work, Delilah.”
Pancras looked over his shoulder at Gisella. “There’s a slayer right here. It’s
time for us to go our separate ways, no matter how miserable that option
seems.”

The drak sorceress was ambivalent
about Edric’s departure, but when it came time to say goodbye to Pancras, tears
fell no matter how much she tried to control her emotions. The last thing she
wanted to do in front of the dwarf, Kali, and the Golden Slayer was collapse
into a blubbering mess, and it was only her own pride and vanity that kept her
from clinging to Pancras’s legs to attempt to prevent him from leaving.

Pancras knelt before her after
saying his goodbyes to Kale and Kali. “Brave heart, Delilah. You are strong and
clever, and you’ll be fine. I know you and Kale can handle anything this city
can throw at you, and, with Kali, you’ll be even stronger.”

“Sure, you’re just saying that to
make me feel better.” Delilah sniffled and refused to meet his eyes.

“I know it. I will send for you
as soon as I’m able, but it could be the better part of a year before I am
settled in Vlorey. Try to understand that these humans are frightened of you,
and that’s why they sometimes say things that offend you. Try to rein in your
anger with them. They don’t mean to offend most of the time.”

“I’m pretty sure the Manless
offends on purpose.” She didn’t care if he had spies listening to her right
now. She was willing to risk the confrontation.

“Yes, probably. Now look, your
skills are far beyond those of any of the students. If you participate in any
duels, go easy on them. But, keep an open mind. You might learn a new way to
approach a technique you think you’ve mastered or perhaps some kind of utility
you never thought of. This is an opportunity for you to refine and further
develop your power. There is an extensive library at the university. Use it.”

Delilah nodded and wiped her
nose. “I will… remember what you said. I’ll try to be good.”

Pancras looked over at Kale and
Kali. “Your brother and his mate are both here for you. Help each other. Make
some friends. We’ll be together again before you know it.”

The drak sorceress didn’t believe
that, but Pancras seemed to, so she accepted his word. She stood apart from
Kale and his mate as they watched Pancras, Edric, and the Golden Slayer ride
out of the city. Delilah’s eyes followed them until the three were out of
sight. The sun was already creeping toward its zenith. Her guts churned and
knotted as she contemplated reporting in at the Arcane University.

“Deli?” Her brother reached for
her.

“I’m fine. I have to go to the
wizard place.” She turned to face Kale and his mate. Kali, her face devoid of
expression, regarded the sorceress. Delilah sighed. “We’re all each other has
for now. Why don’t the two of you take that money Pancras left us and try to
find a more permanent place to stay? I’ll probably be stuck at the university
for a couple of days. I’ll send a message to you when I can and keep you
apprised of my situation.”

“Deli, I—”

She held up her hand. “It’s fine,
Kale. I’ve not been nice to either of you. It’ll be different the next time we
see each other. I promise. Just have a place for us to live, all right? Don’t
make me live alone, by myself.”

Kali caught Delilah off guard and
hugged her. “You’ll be welcome with us, as long as you want to stay. We’ll find
a home while you’re doing your duties. It’ll be fun. You’ll see.”

* * *

Kale walked with Delilah to the
gates of the Arcane University. He made no attempt at conversation, and Delilah
seemed quite content to stew in her thoughts. Her promise to try to treat Kali
better made him feel a bit more confident about the future. Kale didn’t know
how long they’d be stuck in Muncifer and suspected they’d have ridden alongside
Pancras toward the coast if the wizards had not coerced Delilah to remain
behind

While he escorted his sister,
Kali checked on their mounts. They would have to exercise them periodically in
the countryside to keep them fit and content, and Kale saw this as an
opportunity to explore the area rather than as a chore.

Delilah neither waved nor bade
him farewell before she disappeared within the university property. He watched
her until the guards shut the towering gates, sequestering the wizards and
their students from the rest of the city.

He decided explore the undercity
and become familiar with its configuration.
I wonder what I can find to do
around here. If I keep myself busy, I won’t get into trouble and I won’t miss
Pancras too much.

Usually shops of like purpose
clumped together in cities or, at least, tended to be grouped by the
socioeconomic status of their patrons. The funds Pancras left them were
generous; more than the common folk saw in their entire lives, many of whom had
no choice but to dwell in the deep, dark spaces of the undercity.

Kale tried not to brood on that
as he navigated the crowds in the undercity. Draks and minotaurs were most
prevalent here, and though the minotaurs paid him no mind, every drak’s head
turned as he passed by.

They stared.

Folding his wings as tightly as
he could against his body, Kale wished he had brought a cloak. He was used to
his wings now, and he suddenly realized that with all the legends and stories
about striped draks and winged draks passed down through the generations, seeing
a winged, striped drak might give other draks pause.

He ducked into a glassblower’s
shop. The heat of the crucible comforted Kale until he heard the crash of
shattering glass behind him. The drak gaffer regarded Kale and fell to his
knees. “Great Rannos! A sign!” The gaffer prostrated himself in the jagged
shards before Kale.

“Don’t do that.” Kale took the
gaffer by the arm and pulled him to his feet. “It’s embarrassing.”

“My arm! You touched me!” The
drak cradled his arm, staring at it, his eyes wide in awe. “Oh, blessed arm,
what wonders will you now be capable of? Touch my lips that I might blow
mighty, magical bottles!”

Kale ran out of the shop and into
a minotaur pushing a cart full of potatoes. The minotaur’s tree trunk-like leg
was sufficient to halt Kale’s forward motion, causing him to fall backward onto
his butt.

“Watch where you’re going, Drak.”

The minotaur was mobbed by draks
rushing to defend and assist their fallen idol.

“Hey, get off! Let go! Clear
off!” The minotaur hopped, flinging draks left and right and shaking his legs
to dislodge those clinging to him.

“Stop! Leave him alone!” Kale
jumped into the air and hovered as high as he was able. He was still working on
the endurance to fly under his own power, rather than just glide, but he managed
a good five seconds of air time before the exertion was too great and he was
forced to land.

“The Child of Destiny speaks!”

“He has come to lead us!”

“No, no, I haven’t!” Kale held up
his hands and backed into a wall. The draks surrounded him, forgetting about
the minotaur and giving the potato-pusher the opportunity to flee with his cart
of tubers.

“Show us the way, O Great One!”

Kale was in over his head.
Deli
or Pancras would know how to get out of this.
He blurted out the first
thing that came to mind. “I’m not great. I’m cursed!”

“No, you are the one of the
prophecies!”

“Child of Destiny!”

“You will lead us away from the
longshanks!”

“I’m a twin! I have a sister,
hatched from the same egg! She’s even a wizard!”

The collective gasps sounded as
if someone sucked all the air out of the area. The crowd backed away from Kale,
making gestures intended to ward off evil. Kale took a step forward, and the
mob of draks stepped away.

That’s not quite what I wanted
. He decided
to go with it and ran.

* * *

Delilah flipped through the pages
of her common language lexicon as she sat in the antechamber of the Court of
Wizardry. The archmage was occupied with guild business, according to the
seneschal, so she was instructed to wait until he was ready for her. She
thought about studying her grimoire, but figured as soon as she was able to
relax and concentrate enough to make sense of the arcane pages, she’d be
interrupted.

So, she brushed up on her
language skills. The seneschal clucked his tongue. “That’s not a book of magic,
is it?”

“Do you think I’m stupid? I know
if I read that one, I’ll be interrupted.” Delilah held up the lexicon. “It’s a
language book. We speak Drak and Minotaur in Drak-Anor, not your language.”

“Apologies, Initiate.” The
seneschal bowed his head. “I just didn’t want to see you reprimanded. Initiates
are not permitted to peruse tomes of arcana.”

“That’s stupid. How are they
supposed to learn?” Delilah closed her book and put it away in her pack. “I’m only
an initiate because Man… the archmage said so. I’ve been practicing magic for
most of my life.” She wagged a finger at the seneschal. “And I’m older than I
look!”

“I wouldn’t presume to make
assumptions about your age, Initiate. Your scales still carry the shine of
youth, or they do to my old eyes.”

“Oh, well, thank you.” The edges
of Delilah’s mouth curled up in a smile at the unexpected compliment. She
scratched her belly where the robes chafed. “Are novice robes better? These
itch.”

The seneschal stepped around his
podium and knelt down in front of Delilah. He rubbed the hems of her robes
between his fingers. “Hm. The cheapest of the initiates’ robes. If you want
something more comfortable, you’ll have to buy it yourself. If you rely on what
the university provides, you’ll always get the cheapest.”

“I’d rather just wear my cloak.
Robes are for humans.” The robe the Golden Slayer dropped off for her was made
for a tall human and even if she stood on Kale’s shoulders, it would have
dragged on the ground. She’d been forced to make alterations with a knife. As a
result, it looked less like a robe and more like a sack with sleeves.

“You’ll have to talk to the
archmage about a cultural exception of some sort.” The seneschal stood and
returned to his podium. He glanced down at his book and nodded. “He’s ready for
you now. Go on in.”

She wondered how he could
possibly determine that; she did not hear the archmage beckon from the court
chamber. The seneschal held open the door for Delilah. She strained to see the
top of his podium as she passed, but she was too short.

The archmage was not alone on the
dais. The dozen wizards flanking him were each garbed in a uniquely colored
robe. All the colors in a rainbow and beyond, including black and white, were
represented. Their faces were expressionless masks, but then Delilah realized
their faces were covered by actual masks.

And they all eyed her.

How did I not notice their masks
the last time?
She chalked it up to nerves.

She walked toward the archmage,
using her staff as one would a walking stick. When she was a few paces from the
bottom step, she inclined her head in a bow. “Well, I’m here. I guess it’s time
to teach me.”

“Such disrespect.”

“Foolish drak.”

“A striped drak. Interesting.”

“Or foolhardy.”

The archmage slashed through the
air with his hand, silencing the chorus of comments from the assembled high
wizards. “You should show deference to your superiors, Initiate Drak.
Disrespect is punishable. However”—Archmage Vilkan sniffed and looked at his
fellow wizards—“I will allow you to try that again.”

Delilah’s lip curled. She bit
back several choice comments of which she knew Pancras would not approve and
bowed deeply, using her staff to keep herself from falling forward. “O Great
Archmage, I present myself, a lowly drak, to your mighty tutelage.”

Among the gasps of the high
wizards, Delilah heard a lone chuckle. When she raised her head as she awaited
his response, she noticed Archmage Vilkan’s face flush first light pink,
deepening until it became the blood red color of aged wine, and she thought she
saw pulsing in his temple. He drew a shaky breath before speaking. “You will
learn respect, Drak.”

He snapped his fingers and
gestured toward Delilah. Guards rushed forward and grabbed her arms. One took
her staff, and the other took her pack. “Take this initiate to Master Agata.
Tell her this initiate is hers to punish. You will show us respect, Initiate
Drak, in the end. Our resolve will prove superior.”

Delilah spat on the floor as the
guards dragged her away. She dug in her heels as they hauled her through the
courtyard. She couldn’t overpower them, but she would be damned if she would
make things easy for them. The guards took her into a nearby building and down
a set of stairs. They opened a door and tossed her in.