Malediction (Scars of the Sundering Book 1)

by Hans Cummings

  Lady Milena shook her head. "I don't understand. Dwarves can't become undead?"

  "Well, typically, when a dwarf dies, its body hardens and becomes like stone. To create an undead creature from a dwarf, one must work very quickly. One cannot just go into a dwarven crypt and raise an army. There are no bodies, per se, to work with, you understand."

  "You sound as though you speak from experience." Lady Milena's hand dropped to the hilt of her sword. Kale noticed she adjusted her stance into a more defensive position; she stepped back a half-step and widened the distance between her feet.

  "Yes, well," Pancras rubbed his horn and lowered his head. "Drak-Anor was once a darker place." He looked up and noticed Lady Milena was no longer standing as close to him as she once was. "As one of Aita's faithful, I find it wise to know the ways of my enemies, yes?"

  "Princess of the Underworld…" Lady Milena's eyes flitted from Pancras, down to the draks, and back. She regarded them for a moment and then relaxed. "If I find you have anything to do with this…"

  Pancras held up his hands and shook his head. "I have not." He placed one of his hands over his heart and bowed. "I swear it."

  "Very well." Lady Milena turned as one of the guards ran up to her. "Report?"

  "We found several burned bodies, Lady Milena. They were all in the catacomb, save one."

  "That's the one that attacked us first!" Kale looked up at the humans. He knew Pancras didn't create them on purpose, but he wondered if the minotaur created them in his sleep again, as he did at the watchtower.

  "They were burned beyond recognition, but other than some clawed tracks, we found no evidence of anyone having gone down into the undercroft in ages. We're conducting a search for the creatures that left those tracks in the dust."

  Lady Milena coughed and pointed at the draks. "I think you'll find your culprits right here, Corporal."

  "Oh, yes, of course. Shall I arrest them?" He moved to grab Delilah, who responded by jumping back and hissing, holding her staff ready.

  "No, Corporal. They were given free run of the palace, and the undercroft was not off limits." She pointed at Kale and Delilah. "It is now, however, understand?" She looked up at the corporal. "Post a guard. Until we discover what exactly is going on here, I want no one going into the undercroft or the catacombs, clear?"

  "Understood, milady!" He saluted and left to carry out her orders.

  "I suggest you two head back to your room. You've made enough trouble for one day, don't you think?" Lady Milena looked at them with judgment in her eyes, like a mother chastising her children.

  "Suits me. I didn't want to go down there in the first place." Delilah grabbed Kale's hand and dragged him toward their suite.

  Kale looked over his shoulder at Pancras as they left. The minotaur's shoulders slumped, and he rubbed his temples. "I think we shouldn't have gone down there, Deli."

  "Told you so."

  Chapter 10

  Pancras didn't blame Kale and Delilah for what happened. He told them to explore as much of the palace as they could, and if the guards weren't guarding the undercroft and catacombs, the draks could hardly be expected to avoid the area.

  He stood outside the doors to the suite he shared with draks and looked out over the snow-dusted city. Much of what fell the night before was gone, but heavy, grey clouds in the distance promised another night of snowfall.

  Lady Milena approached him. "I've just spoken to the prince. He wants you to go into the undercroft and ensure all those things are destroyed. I am to accompany you."

  "Now?" Pancras rubbed his neck. "I was just about to eat."

  "I have my orders." The Captain of the Royal Guard dropped her hand to the hilt of her sword. Pancras turned away from her and shook his head.

  "Very well. Allow me at least inform the draks where I'm going. I wouldn't want them to worry and start searching the palace for me."

  "Yes, that is wise." Lady Milena banged on the suite doors. After a moment, Kale opened it. "Pancras and I are going into the catacomb to ensure your sister killed all those nasty undead. Don't wait up for him." She turned from the door and exited. Kale looked wide-eyed at Pancras.

  "Save me something to eat, if you can."

  "All right. Delilah wants to talk to you when you get back, so wake her up if you have to."

  Pancras waved as he followed after Lady Milena. He rushed to catch up to her, checking his pockets and pouches as he went. He didn't really need anything other than his arcane focus, the gilded tips covering his horns, but he found the various bits and bobs that found their way into his pockets always came in handy.

  The stink of burnt flesh greeted them as they entered the dusty undercroft. Floating motes of dust combined with lingering smoke and formed a choking haze. Milena coughed and fanned her hand in front of her face.

  "Have you any incantations that might help with this?"

  "M'poy'rieni aerha." As he spoke the words, tendrils of green formed near the tips of his horns. Pancras blew, his breath enhanced by the magic, and cleared some of the haze away.

  "Useful stuff, wizardry." Milena drew her sword, reached into her pouch, and to pull out a glowing stone. She held the stone high in front of her to illuminate their path.

  "I have always found it to be so."

  Pancras marveled at the vast amount of crates stacked up in the alcoves. "What are all these crates?"

  "Mostly dishes and linens. Decorations, that sort of thing."

  What possible use could they have for so much of it? There must be enough here for every family in Almeria. "Backups in case of breakage?"

  Milena shook her head. She paused for a moment, allowing Pancras to clear the air again. "Every time a new family ascends to the throne, they replace everything imprinted with the old ruler's crest. Sometimes, they just replace everything. Can't be using anything to tie them to the old regime, you know. Over there." She pointed to a heavy oaken door with her sword. A burnt, twisted body lay in front of it.

  The door to the catacombs was closed. Pancras gestured for Milena to take cover behind him as he approached it. He placed his hand upon it, drawing more, and more magic to him. "Entipismos zompi. Entipismos zompi. Entipismos zompi." He chanted as he concentrated, reaching out with his mind, looking for the telltale signs of the undead. As unnatural creations, all undead were an abomination to the Earth Mother, and as such, created negative space, a hole in the life-force of the world. While detecting such negative spaces was not foolproof, Pancras felt fairly confident the lack of it was a good sign.

  "There's nothing immediately threatening beyond the door, nothing undead, that is. Detection is not perfect, especially the further away from us they might be, but we should be safe to proceed for now."

  Milena sheathed her sword and opened the door. "From how far away can your divination sense them?"

  "I've never had to use it beyond a few dozen feet, honestly, although I expect I could sense the entire catacomb complex." They stepped around a pile of burnt corpses. Pancras pinched his nose shut against the smell.

  Milena closed the door behind them and drew her sword again. "Do not be so sure. The catacombs run under most of the city. The areas that connect to the palace's undercroft are supposed to be sealed off, but workers in the catacombs are notoriously unreliable."

  "Can anyone who lives in Almeria be interred here?" Pancras followed her, careful to keep the wisps of magical aether swirling around his horns, ready to destroy any undead lying in wait.

  "If one has sufficient money. Many families choose cremation as it is cheaper. Certainly, all the noble families have sections reserved for their use, near their estates, of course." She looked into an alcove, but seeing it was filled only with funeral urns, returned to the main hallway.

  "There have been plans for years to build a new palace near the north wall, surrounded by a mighty, impregnable wall, disconnected from the catacombs and inaccessible except through one gate. That sort of work is expensive, and the Duke of Muncifer and th
e minotaurs in charge of the Stonecutter's Guild are less than eager to negotiate lower prices with Prince Gavril. They don't like him much."

  "Imagine that." Pancras chuckled.

  Milena ducked under a cobweb and turned the corner. More alcoves and burial niches stretched deep into the darkness. The further into the catacombs they went, the staler the air became. There was something else in the air, a slight breeze, carrying with it a putrid stench.

  "Do these catacombs connect with any sort of sewer system?"

  "I'm not an expert, but I believe there may be some old cisterns and sewers that connect, why?" Milena faced Pancras, her brows furrowed.

  "I smell something foul. It doesn't smell like death and decay." Movement caught Pancras's eye. He spun toward the flicker but saw nothing in the darkness.

  "Probably a rat." Milena tapped his arm with her sword. "Let us continue."

  "It seemed bigger than a rat."

  "Where?"

  Pancras pointed in the direction where he saw the movement. Milena moved past him and into the alcove. Several of the internment niches contained ossuaries and offering bowls. One niche contained a full skeleton dressed in once-fine robes, now faded and moldy with age.

  The only evidence Pancras and Milena found of movement was a disturbance in the dust. Neither one could identify specific tracks. "One of the destroyed undead probably came from here." Milena sheathed her sword. "I am not certain there is any value in continuing further. Surely we've been down here long enough to attract attention should a ravenous beast wish to devour us, yes?"

  "Most undead are attracted to life, unless their creator holds sufficient control over them. It seems likely they would have attacked by now." Pancras blew a thick layer of dust off the skeleton. At least this fellow is resting peacefully.

  "Where did they come from, I wonder?" Milena stood next to Pancras, looking at the skeleton. She cocked her eyebrow. "Doesn't it require a necromancer to create this kind of undead?"

  Pancras coughed and shuffled his hooves. "Generally, yes. There have been exceptions. The Lich Queen, as an example, is said to have known a ritual that could empty all the graves in a city leagues away from her army and summon them to her side."

  "I overheard guards talking. They say your drak friend claimed you are a necromancer." She grabbed Pancras's shoulder and turned him to face her. Reaching up, Milena grabbed him by a horn, yanking his head down. Pancras grunted and squirmed, but could not free himself. He was surprised by the strength of her grip. "What is your game? Why are you here?"

  "It's true, I once practiced necromancy, and I have created my share of skeletons to aid me in my work." He twisted again, but Milena kept a tight hold on his horn, grabbing the other with her free hand for more control. "But, I have not done so in years."

  Pancras fought to control his breathing. She put an uncomfortable level of pressure on his neck and chest by forcing him into this position. The muscles in his back strained, and he thought he felt a few of her vertebrae pop when she wrenched him down.

  He could overpower the human, if he wanted to, but despite her distrust of him, he had no desire to hurt Captain Trueblade. If anything, he needed at the very least for her to tolerate his presence.

  "Do you value the lives of your drak companions, Pancras?"

  What do they have to do with this? "Yes, yes, they are as close to kin as I have."

  "Then swear on their lives that these undead are not your creations."

  It was an oath to which Pancras could readily agree. "I swear on their lives, I did not create these undead."

  "Swear it again, by their names."

  The minotaur was impressed by how well Milena knew her business. If there was any magical compulsion to the oath he just gave, it was worded ambiguously enough that a clever person could get around it. By demanding their names, she guaranteed consequences for them if Pancras lied. He didn't think she had the power to back up such an oath, no one but the most powerful wizards did, but she was knowledgeable.

  "On the lives of Kale and Delilah Windsinger, I swear have no involvement with these undead."

  Milena released her hold on him. Pancras rubbed his neck as he straightened up. He expected to see an expression of contempt or anger on her face. Instead, hers was a mask of stoicism.

  She sighed and motioned for him to advance ahead of her. "Let us leave this place."

  Pancras led her out in silence. He understood her concern but was relieved she allowed the matter to drop. When they reached the main hall, Milena stopped him before he headed back to his suite.

  "I will take you at your word on this matter, but I will be watching you."

  Bowing, Pancras touched her hand to his forehead. "I understand, of course. Your dedication to your duty does you credit, Lady Milena." She turned away as she blushed. Pancras returned to his room, and his thoughts turned to his now-cold dinner.

  * * *

  Delilah found she rather liked the plush armchairs in the great room of their suite. They were soft and large enough for her to curl up in completely with her grimoire. She found it less distracting by the crackling fire than in the same room where Kale experimented with his puzzle box. She was sure he didn't realize it, but he talked to himself when he worked on it.

  She lost herself in the ever-shifting characters on the page. "How does it do that?" She traced the characters with a claw, but was unable to keep up. They burned their images into her mind. When she closed her eyes, she still saw them dancing on the edges of her vision. They formed new images, words she couldn't understand, and fleeting images that vanished just as she focused on them.

  If she concentrated on a single symbol at a time, Delilah found she could sort of hold it in place and examine it. There was power in symbols, and the ones transcribed in this grimoire seem to hold a type of power with which she was unfamiliar. She held her concentration as the doors of the suite opened, but when a burst of cold wind caused the fire to sputter, she lost it, and the symbol twisted and vanished.

  Opening her eyes, she looked to see who entered the room. Pancras shut the door against the winter wind and greeted her with a smile. "I don't suppose you saved me anything to eat?"

  Delilah pointed at the table. "Of course we did. It was some sort of soup. It's probably cold now, but it came in little iron pots, so you could probably stick it in the fire for a few minutes."

  She closed up her grimoire and latched the clasps while Pancras brought his pot of soup to the fire to be warmed. "Hey, Kale and I were talking while you were gone."

  "Oh?"

  "You sleep with your focus on, right?"

  Pancras set the pot on the edge of the hearth, near the glowing embers at the bottom of the burning logs. The fire sputtered and crackled, its light causing shadows to prance about the room.

  Nodding, the minotaur sat in the armchair next to Delilah. "Yes, I rarely remove it."

  "Maybe you should. It might keep you from necromancing in your sleep." She didn't know for sure whether or not Pancras experienced another episode of undead creation in the middle of the night, but she and Kale agreed it couldn't hurt to take precautions.

  "I'm not actually sure that's possible."

  "Pancras." Delilah put her book down, leaning it against the chair leg. "What can it hurt?"

  The minotaur fingered the tips of his horns, lost in thought. "Perhaps… my dreams have been dark of late. Very well." He smiled and nodded at Delilah. "I will remove them from now on."

  "Good, we'll see if any more undead crop up here in 'civilization.' As nasty as some of the humans behave, I have to admit this is nicer than that grumpy minotaur's inn, huh?"

  "The Sleeping Viper was adequate, but yes, this is nicer."

  "When do you think—"

  Knocking at the doors echoed through the parlor. Delilah sighed and hopped off her chair.

  She heard Kale shout from the bedroom. "Can someone else get that?"

  Delilah shook her head and opened the doors. The orange-scaled
drak from the jail stood before her and held in her hands a spherical glass vessel with elongated downward-pointing spout used in alchemy called a retort and crucible.

  "You! How'd you get here?"

  "I have a delivery for Pancras. Some of the equipment you requested." She smiled and pushed Delilah out of the way to enter the room.

  "Just put it over there." Pancras waved in the general direction of the table. "Where's the alembic?"

  Delilah didn't give her a chance to reply. She shut the door and grabbed Kali by the shoulder. "I didn't know you worked here in the palace."

  "Oh, I don't. But you'd be surprised how easily servants will abandon their duties to the first volunteer to come along when they resent their job." She put the equipment on the table and dusted off her hands. "Draks and minotaurs aren't very popular among the nobility."

  "We've noticed."

  Pancras leaned around the back of his chair. "How did you get into the palace if you don't work here, then?"

  The drak smiled and shrugged. "It wasn't easy, but there are secret ways in and out of most of these old buildings if you're small, don't mind getting a little dirty, and don't want to be seen."

  "So, either you're very odd and like to take over random delivery jobs, or you want something." Delilah put her hands on her hips and tilted her head. "So, what do you want?" She didn't think for a moment this was a social call.

  "Where's Kale?"

  Delilah moved to put herself between Kali and the bedroom door. Her eyes flicked to her staff on the floor near the armchair and then back to the other drak. "What do you want with him?" Pancras better back me up here.

  "You're the older sibling, aren't you?" Kali smiled and turned her back to Delilah. She approached the hearth. "I'm not going to hurt him. I just want to talk to him."

  "About?" Pancras watched from his chair as she knelt and warmed her hands in front of the fire.

  "Who's here? Oh, hi Kali!" Kale came out of the bedroom, turning the puzzle box over in his hands, looking at it instead of where he was going. Delilah put her hand out to keep him from plowing into her.