Malediction (Scars of the Sundering Book 1)

by Hans Cummings

  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.

  “Logical arguments are not particularly comforting, Pancras.” Sarvesh laughed. The two friends sat for a few hours and reminisced about the days the elders would have called better times but which Pancras and Sarvesh knew were just fleeting snippets of their lives.

  * * *

  Delilah tapped her foot as she leaned against the rock wall and waited. Kale paced in front of her. The sun warmed the morning air around the entrance of Drak-Anor as it crept across the sky, ascending toward its zenith. Two minotaur guards stood by the forged gates and chatted, leaning on their halberds.

  Looking at her brother, Delilah noticed a strange new mark on her brother's chest "What's that? On your chest?"

  Kale looked down and rubbed the sigil branded on his chest. "Oh, Terrakaptis put it there, in case we happen across any dragons. Since he's sleeping and we can't go with him to wake his kin until after we get back, he thought it was a good idea to mark me as a friend so they don't try to eat me."

  "Do you think we'll run into any dragons?" Delilah scratched the back of her neck. "The plains don't seem l
ike a good place to hide and sleep for a thousand years."

  "There’s plenty of hills and gullies to hide in. Besides, I stopped trying to figure out Terrakaptis years ago. When he's half-asleep, it seems he talks in riddles. I don't know." Kale stopped pacing and faced his sister. "Where is he?"

  Glancing back toward the city's entrance, Delilah peered into the darkness. She shrugged. "I don't know. Do you think he left without us?" She didn't think that was minotaur's style, but she realized she didn't know him half as well as she should.

  "He wouldn't do that." Kale looked toward the city entrance with his sister. She saw minotaurs and draks meandering about but no one who looked like Pancras. Delilah adjusted the straps on her backpack where they dug into her shoulders. The grimoire Terrakaptis gave her was indeed a precious gift. She leafed through the weighty tome the night prior and reveled the opportunity to further explore the secrets within, but it felt as if she carried a boulder.

  Hearing the sound of jingling bells from the mountain trail, Delilah turned her attention away from Drak-Anor's entrance. A pair of elves approached, riding in a cart pulled by a shaggy horse. The animal was larger than any of the horses or mules the dwarves used, standing twice as tall as Delilah at its withers.

  "Hail, Drak-Anor!" One of the elves raised his hand and waved at the minotaurs guarding the gate. He shouted in the common trade language that gave Delilah such trouble, although basic greetings she understood. The tips of his ears peeked out from locks of wind-blown hair. The teal skin of his face was as smooth as porcelain, and he appeared frail enough that a minotaur could snap him in half like a twig. Elves were the most commonly seen of the fae people who returned in droves to Calliome.

  While holding the reins, the other elf waved. "Hail! We bring autumn ale and wine from Celtangate!"

  "Any elf bearing wine and ale is welcome here." One of the minotaurs approached the merchants. The other guard shouted up at the guard tower flanking the city entrance to summon some laborers to unload the cart.