The tracks led to a vertical shaft. Ropes hung from a pulley system, and Kale saw light from below. The sound of digging echoed in the chamber, and Delilah extinguished the light from her staff. Dropping to their bellies, the three draks crawled forward and peeked over the edge of the shaft.
A broken lift lay at the bottom, probably a hundred feet down. A rusty mine cart was upended. Bony legs protruded from under the cart, long since picked clean of flesh. From this distance, Kale was unable to identify to whom the legs belonged, drak, human, dwarf, or otherwise.
Kale was surprised the mine was well illuminated. The floors and walls of white salt reflected light from the lanterns and gave the air an eerie glow. An orange-scaled drak shuffled into view, carrying a load of white rocks in a bucket almost as large as he was. He sensed Kali tense up next to him as they watched the drak shuffle past.
The crack of a whip in the distance made the drak flinch, but he continued with his bucket of salt until he was out of sight. Kale reached over the edge and felt the walls of the shaft. They were much smoother than the previous ledge. He rolled over on his back to look up at the pulley system. The metal was rusted, and the ropes appeared intact; however, he knew that looks could be deceiving.
"Can you reach the ropes?" Kali pushed herself away from the edge.
Kale stretched as far as he dared, but wasn't able to come close. The shaft was too wide. "I don't think we could climb that one, either. It's too smooth."
Delilah still looked over the edge. "Getting down isn't the problem. It's coming back up. I don't want to stay down here forever."
"There are other ways out, but I agree with you." Kali chewed on one of her claws. "Dammit. My sources told me this was a sure way in."
"What if we go back to the room and take the other passage?" Kale leaned over the edge of the shaft again. He heard cries of pain echoing up from below. "Maybe it circles around."
"It's worth a shot."
Chapter 13
The alternate passage was in worse shape than the direction they originally headed. The track was misaligned and twisted, almost as if some angry giant twisted the steel rails into a knot. Delilah was unable to ascertain where they were in relation to the palace as the passageway narrowed, twisted, and turned. The timbers reinforcing the ceiling were rotten or missing in many places, and after ten minutes of following where it led, it was clear the three draks were no longer in a mine tunnel, per se. Deep gouges covered the walls, as though some creature dug its way into the mine.
Delilah shone her staff's light overhead and peered at the gouges on the wall. "I don't think this is going to take us back into the mine. Whatever caused these gouges is something I don't think we want to meet."
Kali ran her hand across the gouges. "I agree. My source was wrong. This was a way into the mine, but it's useless to us. We should go back to the surface." Her shoulders slumped, and she leaned back against the wall.
A scraping sound echoed through the tunnel, and a chill shot down Delilah's back. She swept her staff around, sending light into the dark corners, looking for the sound's source. She heard the scraping again, but this time it was followed by chittering and the sound of skittering.
"We should go."
Kali drew her dagger. "I agree. There's something in here with us."
The three draks broke into a run. Delilah's clawed feet slipped on the hard floor of the tunnel, but Kale grabbed her and kept her from falling. From the scrabbling from behind them, it was clear that something, or several somethings, gave chase. They turned the corner at breakneck speed, and Delilah lost her footing again, skidding across the tunnel. Her head smacked one of the rails with a ring.
"Dammit!" She grabbed her head and staggered to her feet. Gleaming teeth appeared in the darkness as a multi-legged creature darted forward.
"Deli!"
"Get back, Kale!" Delilah raised her staff and closed her eyes. Her head throbbed, yet she managed to focus and drew magic to her. "Synnefotone shifone!"
She jumped back, colliding with Kale and Kali as a cloud of flashing, whirling blades appeared in the beast's path. Its roar turned into a squeal as the blades cut into its flesh and flayed its skin. Delilah grabbed her brother and Kali's arms and spun them around.
"Run!"
They left the toothy beast to deal with Delilah's whirling blades and ran back to the room through which they entered the mine. Delilah shoved her staff between her back and her harness and leapt at the wall. Her claws found purchase in the rock, and she clung to it, scrambling with her feet to find something to push against. Kali jumped onto the wall next to her and climbed up, scrambling up the wall like a crab across a rocky shore.
Delilah felt Kale's hands on the bottom of her feet, pushing her. "Go Deli, go!" She found her purchase and climbed. Kale climbed alongside her, offering her a hand when she struggled to find a handhold. At the top, Kali waited for them and pulled them up when they were within reach.
The three draks paused at the top of the wall to catch their breath.
Kali slapped Delilah on the shoulder. "Impressive spell."
"Thanks, remind me to tell you how I used it to escape a dragon's belly sometime." She grinned at the other drak and smacked her brother on the knee. "Let's get back. I need a drink."
The journey back through the tunnels and catacombs seemed shorter to Delilah than the time it took to make the initial trip. Kali stopped them when they reached the door leading from the catacombs to the palace's undercroft.
"I know we didn't really accomplish anything, but I appreciate your help. I'm going to try to find another way into the mines."
"If there are draks enslaved down there, Deli and I want to help, right?"
Delilah couldn't agree more. She still didn't trust Kali's intentions where it concerned her brother, but she approved of any plan that freed draks from enslavement. "Absolutely. We'll make some inquiries of our own, as well."
"Be careful who you talk to." Kali tilted the lid of one of the ossuaries near the door. "We can use this as a dead drop"—she chuckled—"to exchange information. Sorry about earlier, Kale. I wasn't expecting the wings." She pulled Kale close and nuzzled his neck. "I'll be seeing you around."
Kali melted into the shadows. Delilah smacked Kale when she noticed her brother was panting. "Come on. Let's go to bed. It's probably late."
* * *
The drak twins were not as quiet as they thought they were when they returned to the suite. Pancras pulled his pillow over his head to drown out their excited giggles and hushed conversation. When sleep returned, the shadow returned with it, enveloping him in his dreams and raging that it couldn't provoke the minotaur into using his magic. In the dream world Pancras felt trapped, buried under a veil of hate and fury, unable to move, unable to wake.
When he finally woke, he realized the throbbing, pounding headache at the base of his skull had returned. The light of the sun reflecting off the snow-covered city bored into his eyes like lances of fire. He groaned and rolled out of bed, pulling on a set of robes. He fitted both parts of his focus to the tips of his horns, straightened his jewelry, and left the draks to break their fast alone.
He met Lady Milena in the main hall. Her scale armor gleamed in the light, as if freshly polished. He averted his gaze but knew as soon as he stepped outside, there would be no respite from the pain.
Pancras hated being right.
Squinting against the glare, Pancras pulled up his hood and kept his head down as he and the lady knight tromped through the snow. Overnight a new dusting covered the hard packed path. It reminded Pancras of the time when one of the bakers spilled several bags of imported flour all over the market square in Drak-Anor. The light breeze blew the dusty snow in whirling clouds, coating their cloaks in fine white powder.
The Temple of Apellon was located in the hilly residential area behind the palace. It was built on one of the tallest hills in the district, so as to have unobstructed sunlight for most of the day. Like the Foundry Distri
ct, the residential area was enclosed within a border of high walls, and most of the individual estates within the district were separated from each other. Trees, now bereft of leaves, lined the avenues. Servants, bundled up in thick woolen cloaks, cleared snow off the walkways and paths which led to sprawling homes. Pancras scraped away the snow with his hoof, surprised the street wasn’t paved in gold.
Columns reaching toward the sky surrounded the temple, the House of Light Eternal. A peaked, fabric canopy covered the vast open area at the center of the temple, allowing light in but keeping weather out. The open sides of the temple did not keep the wind from blowing snow in, however, and Pancras observed several young men and women clearing the inside of the temple with shovels and brooms and building a wall of compacted snow around the inner structure.
A man wearing thick, white robes and a furry hat stood at the center of the temple, near the altar, and directed the acolytes to where they should concentrate their cleanup efforts. Pancras shaded his eyes with his hand and looked around as they entered the temple proper.
There was no rigid structure to the temple interior. The architecture was designed to draw worshippers' attention toward the altar, which appeared to be chiseled from white marble streaked with veins of pink. It was a circular pedestal upon which stood a representation of Apellon, son of Tinian, god of light, healing, and the arts. Apellon was depicted as a young man with flowing, golden hair, holding a lyre, and looking upward to the sky, lips parted in perpetual song.
"Arnost!" Lady Milena held up her hand in greeting as she approached the priest. He spun round, his eyes crinkled and mouth open in delight.
"Milena! You've been away too long." He enwrapped her in a hug, pinning her arms to her sides. Milena's cheeks flushed, and her lips formed a thin, straight line. Arnost held her shoulders and stepped back to admire his sister.
"You look splendid! Why have you not been by?"
Milena extracted herself from Arnost's grip. "My duties have kept me busy. That's why I'm here." She jerked her head toward Pancras.
Arnost noticed Pancras for the first time since he entered the temple. "A minotaur! What brings a minotaur to Apellon? Perhaps you need to give voice to the music within?" He circled Pancras, looking him up and down.
Pancras put his hand across Arnost's chest, bringing the priest to a halt. "Nothing like that. I'm doing research, and I need the opinion of a healer."
Arnost narrowed his eyes and reversed course, walking backward around Pancras. "Yes, of course you do. I see a darkness within you, a place the light of Apellon does not reach."
Pancras venerated Aita, goddess of the underworld, but he didn't think that made him an especially dark person. He didn't twist her word to fit a belief that the natural state of everything in the world was to die, and the sooner the better, in the way many death cults believed. Arnost's intense, pale-hazel eyes sent a shiver down Pancras's spine. When the priest reached for the golden lyre hanging around his neck, the minotaur grabbed his arm.
"It's not for me. Is there somewhere we can speak privately?" He hoped Arnost would agree to move out of earshot of the acolytes and Lady Milena.
"There are no secrets from the light of Apellon." Arnost backed away from Pancras, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.
The minotaur fought to keep his voice steady. "There is nothing sinister about this, but the prince desires some measure of confidentiality where his affairs are concerned." Pancras hoped by keeping his intentions truthful, it would draw less scrutiny to the facts.
Arnost rubbed his hands on the front of his robes, eyes flicking to his sister and then back to Pancras. "Well, if it's for the prince…"
Lady Milena took that as her cue. She approached the nearest acolyte and took him by the shoulder. Leading him away from Pancras and Arnost, she glanced at the two and nodded.
Pancras leaned in close to Arnost. "It is a most delicate matter, you understand. A member of the court is dealing with fertility issues. They enlisted me to help, but it's a little outside my area of expertise." He put his arm around Arnost's shoulders and fingered his golden lyre symbol.
"Ah yes. A delicate matter indeed. One that many nobles do not wish to discuss publicly. I understand." Arnost fidgeted with his robes. He shuffled his feet and inspected the ground. "We deal with this from time to time. Is this a matter of performance or something else?"
Pancras cleared his throat and grimaced. "The noble in question is reluctant to be too specific, but I am certain it is not an issue with the act itself. Rather it is the result of the act, if you take my meaning."
"Ah, yes." Arnost rubbed his chin. "There is a treatment. Just a moment." He circled the altar, keeping one hand on the pedestal as he paced. "Just a moment, I'm trying to remember."
Pancras drew his cloak around him as he waited. The wind picked up, causing the canopy over the temple to flap and sending showers of snow to fall and swirl around. The dusty flakes glittered in the morning sun and caused a flurry of acolyte activity as they hurried to brush it away from the marble steps. The glare of the sun reflected off the snow, burned his eyes, made them water, and did absolutely nothing to aid his throbbing head.
"It was an ointment, to be applied internally, um… all the ingredients were to be mashed and mixed with an oil, a boiled oil of… the castor bean! Yes, I'm sure that was it." Arnost pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut.
Pancras lifted up the hems of his robes and brushed off the snow as he waited for Arnost to gather his thoughts. He already understood that the herbal infusion probably could not be reverse-engineered. He would have to acquire information on contraception, as well. That's not going to seem suspicious at all.
"Thorntree?" Arnost blinked and tilted his head. "No, no, no." He laughed. That's for the opposite thing!" His mirth turned into a scowl. "Philanderers." He resumed his trek around the pedestal, muttering to himself. He appeared from behind the statue of Apellon, holding a finger in the air. "Faerie Candle! Er, black snakeroot, if you prefer. Yes, that's it. Mash up black snakeroot, lime ash, and winter cherry in boiled castor oil. Then have the lady in question apply it liberally to… the"—he cleared his throat and looked down at his feet—"a… affected area."
Pancras made a mental note to look for thorntree. "I presume an herbalist would have all this?"
"Oh yes, well, except for castor oil. You might have to procure the beans, press the oil yourself and then boil the oil to remove impurities and refine it."
"Of course. Of course." Pancras nodded and clapped Arnost on the shoulder. "Thank you very much. There is an herbalist or apothecary in the city, yes?" Pancras was sure there must be one, but confirmation and directions would be helpful.
"Oh yes, more than one I think." Arnost furrowed his brow and looked upward. "Not quite sure where they are, though. I've never had cause to seek them out."
Pancras smiled and offered Arnost a curt nod. "I suppose Lady Milena would know."
"Milena? Oh, I doubt it."
At the sound of her name, Lady Milena thanked the acolyte with whom she conversed and returned to Pancras and Arnost. "What won't I know?"
"Where an herbalist is located." Pancras was willing to wager she knew. However, he wanted to do more research before going there. He still wanted to find out what solutions priests of Cybele and Aurora would suggest.
"Of course I know where the apothecaries are."
"Milena! Surely you don't mingle with the commoners—"
"Let's go." Milena took Pancras's arm and led him away from Arnost.
"Milena, wait! Don't go yet. It's been so long."
Lady Milena stopped and closed her eyes. Pancras saw her counting in silence to herself before she spun on her brother. "You would do well to remember the commoners are not some contagion, brother. They are the backbone of the realm, not the ground beneath your feet. You ought to mingle with them yourself instead of looking down upon them from on high."
Arnost blushed, albeit his eyes remained fixed on his
sister. After a moment, he nodded and regarded the ground. "You're right, of course. My duties keep me isolated from the people, Milena."
"Mine do not. Goodbye, Arnost."
Pancras followed Milena as she exited the temple. Part of him felt bad for Arnost, but he took comfort that he wasn't the only one with whom Lady Milena was curt. He wondered if Prince Gavril made a habit of making unreasonable demands of her.
When they reached the bottom of the temple's hill, she slowed her pace, allowing Pancras to catch up. "Where to now, Pancras? The apothecary?"
"Not yet. Is there a temple to Aurora? You said the one to Cybele was outside of the city, yes?"
Milena rubbed her temple. "It is really necessary to speak to a priestess of Aurora?"
Pancras understood the cause of her reluctance. Temples dedicated to Aurora were rarely formal structures like the Temple of Apellon. In small towns and villages they were simple shrines tended by one or two women, often those with less-than-wholesome reputations among the self-righteous. In larger cities, like Almeria, they were often compared to brothels, and certainly, they served a similar purpose. Aurora celebrated lust and the physical aspects of love, however, and did not view the expression of faith as something to hide or of which to be ashamed. The worship of Aurora made some people uncomfortable.
"I want to be sure I'm acquiring the correct reagents and materials. I don't want to make several trips back and forth in the cold and snow." He lifted up his hoof and used his finger to brush away packed-in snow from the bottom of it. "It's uncomfortable."
"Very well." She gestured for him to follow her. "There are several shrines, I hear, in various brothels, but I expect you seek the temple proper."
"Yes, indeed." While it was possible a priestess tending a shrine might have the knowledge Pancras sought, one of the attending priestesses at the actual temple to Aurora most certainly would possess such knowledge. They might even have books for Pancras to study, unlike the priests of Apellon, who usually kept only sheet music in their temples, and more often than not, even that was scarce, as the musicians who played during worship took the sheet music with them for practice.
Malediction (Scars of the Sundering Book 1) Page 20