Salvation (Scars of the Sundering Book 3)

by Hans Cummings

  Reaching into his robes, the elf withdrew a multifaceted stone and placed it on Delilah’s tray. “A Herald Stone, Madame Archmage.”

  Picking it up, Delilah noted that apart from its facets, it appeared much like an ordinary striped rock one might find lying in a field. Mostly dirty-grey in color, dark green striations banded its circumference.

  “What is it for?”

  “It will let you communicate with the bearer of another Herald Stone. As archmage, you possess the master, of course. All high wizards possess them, as do the headmasters of other Arcane University campuses the world over… well, at least in Andelosia.”

  He produced his own Herald Stone from within his robes. It was similar to the one Delilah held, except it was smaller, flatter, and mostly red. “Headmasters can communicate with each other, high wizards with each other and the headmasters, and so on. The master stone can initiate communication with all the others, but it requires at least three student stones to initiate contact with the master.”

  “So, random wizards can’t bother me whenever someone spits in their soup.” Delilah turned over the stone in her hands. She sensed latent arcane energies within it, the sensation not dissimilar than that which she used to summon her boggin messengers.

  “Precisely. When you’re well enough to leave this room, use it to convene a council. There are some formalities that must be observed.” Master Valyrian bowed. “In the meantime, I will inform the other high wizards and headmasters that we have a new archmage.”

  The elf left Delilah to her meal. As she continued examining the stone, she realized she’d forgotten to ask him how to use it. Setting the stone aside, she ate, confident everything would fall into place.

  Chapter 7

  Pancras stepped off the gangplank onto the sturdy, wooden dock and dodged a laborer hauling a bundle of textiles. Port-of-Dogs bustled; a dozen ships, in addition to the Maiden of the High Seas, unloaded trade goods. Gisella, still aboard, bade the captain and crew she’d befriended farewell.

  He stood at the bottom of the gangplank, waiting for his companions and their steeds. Qaliah bounded toward him, holding her gear to keep it from bouncing. She hopped off the gangplank and glanced around the docks.

  “I need a drink. You buying, big guy?” She slapped Pancras across the chest with the back of her hand.

  “Sailor grog not good enough anymore?” Raising his hand, he hailed the sailor leading their mounts across the main gangplank used to offload cargo.

  “A girl needs something other than swill now and then.”

  “We’re not staying here. We’re heading for Vlorey as soon as Gisella disembarks.” Pancras took Stormheart’s reins from the sailor. He led the horse to the end of the dock where a pile of their tack and saddlebags waited.

  While he and Qaliah prepared Stormheart and Comet, Gisella joined them. She cooed to Moonsilver as she saddled her. The fiendling complained about their immediate departure from Port-of-Dogs throughout the packing of their mounts and saddlebags. Pancras’s extensive experience with well-meaning, but irritating, friends in Drak-Anor proved good practice for tuning her out.

  Qaliah relentlessly pointed out every tavern and inn they passed on their way from the docks to the city gates. Gisella and Pancras kept her between them to prevent her from wandering off, although Pancras wondered if watching the fiendling that closely was worthwhile. She was part of neither his nor Gisella’s plans. Still, they had come to appreciate her company over the last several months.

  Pancras breathed a sigh of relief after they passed through the city gates and Qaliah declared she had finished griping. They rode onward under the warmth of the setting sun, bound for Vlorey.

  By the time they stopped to make camp for the evening, Port-of-Dogs faded from their sight behind them. After dinner, while Qaliah and Gisella practiced their swordplay, Pancras focused inward and renewed his connection to Aita.

  The minotaur found initiating such a communion challenging under normal conditions, and despite his efforts, he found it impossible to sufficiently concentrate while aboard the ship. However, the rolling hills of Cardoba, under the moons and stars, provided a more conducive setting.

  In his mind, the world slipped away. He spun through space, marveling at the stars wheeling around him. He passed through the emerald and azure aether surrounding and binding the world and glanced over his shoulder. The globe of Calliome spun in a cosmic dance with the King and Queen, all in perfect, synchronous motion with the sun. He felt a familiar, comforting presence envelop him.

  Aita.

  The goddess said nothing to him. It was not necessary. She touched him with the smallest part of her essence. The duties of a deity were many, their reach and influence interminable, but not unlimited.

  On the correct path now, her very presence exactly filled his need. Another presence joined them in the Outer world. The radiance and warmth of Aurora filled Pancras until he felt he might burst.

  Images flashed before him. Delilah, broken and bloody in a field. Her brother carrying an egg almost as large as himself. The Golden Slayer holding a spear, ready to kill. A tall, dark man in gleaming armor brandishing a golden sword. The drak twins again, laughing and embracing. The fiendling skipping down a cobblestone street. Finally, he, himself, standing atop a tower, surrounded by fog.

  He knew not what the images meant. The past. The future. They were the same to a mortal basking in the presence of deities. What was and what could be. The warmth and comfort of the goddesses faded, and Pancras was left with what was—himself, sitting near a crackling fire in Cardoba while a human warrior and a fiendling sparred and laughed nearby.

  ***

  Delilah entered the Court of Wizardry, her head held high, as she passed Seneschal Lyov. The old man bowed to her as she passed. Guards snapped to attention, and the rainbow of robed wizards seated in their traditional chairs stood and bowed. She fought to keep a grin from overtaking her face. The drak sorceress hated participating in pageantry, except, of course, when she was the center of attention.

  The chair formerly occupied by Archmage Vilkan Icebreaker was gone, replaced with a small chair more suited to a drak’s anatomy. Pleased it did not affront her dignity by requiring her to climb into it, she sat, careful not to strain her sore muscles.

  The Red Wizard sat alongside her on the left, Master Valyrian, though she took care to not make any indication that she recognized the elf. The Brown Wizard sat to her right. The other high wizards did not seem to be arranged in any particular order. Delilah suspected that, apart from her position in the center, seats were up for grabs.

  “A new archmage has called us.” The Violet Wizard stood. “Apprentice Delilah Windsinger challenged Archmage Vilkan Icebreaker in accordance to the Rite of Combat as set down by Archmage Gerald the Craven, and this action has been found just.”

  The Green Wizard tapped the arm of their chair. “But a mere apprentice? Surely, we need not stoop to such a low level of leadership.”

  “It was Vilkan’s petty foolishness that placed our new archmage at such a low level.” The Yellow Wizard gestured toward Delilah. “As I understand it, she served as one of Drak-Anor’s chief battlemages for decades before answering his summons to pay her dues.”

  “A renegade?” the Green Wizard scoffed and laughed. “We can do better, my peers.”

  Delilah tapped her staff against the floor. Heads turned to meet the gaze of their archmage. “Do you intend to invoke the Rite of Combat?”

  A murmur rippled through the high wizards. The Green Wizard withdrew. “No, Archmage. That was not my intention.”

  “Good. Then let’s move on from this pointless discussion. There are changes I want made, immediately.”

  Another murmur.

  That’s it, Deli-girl, keep them on their toes. “We’re no longer going to dispatch slayers to deal with guild members who are delinquent in paying their dues. Any self-taught renegades who aren’t bothering anyone are also to be ignored.”

&nb
sp; “Ironic.”

  “Weren’t those the exact decrees that brought you here?”

  “Vilkan would still be archmage save his petty consolidations.”

  Delilah held up her hand to stop the chatter. “I am also separating the post of archmage and headmaster.” The drak sorceress had thoughtfully considered that particular decree. She possessed neither the desire to teach, nor did she know the first thing about running a school. Learning to be effective in that capacity would be a serious distraction from her research.

  The second decree met with silence. The high wizards first glanced at one another and then at their new archmage.

  “You’re certain you wish to give up that post?” The Yellow Wizard tented their fingers before their face. “Do you have someone in mind you want to name as headmaster?”

  “I don’t know anything about running a school, or about teaching.” Delilah regarded the Yellow Wizard and the other high wizards. “I want the advice of the court about appointing a new headmaster.”

  Every high wizard contributed their opinions about what sort of person would be best appointed to the position of headmaster. Even the high wizards who claimed to not hail from Muncifer offered their thoughts on the matter. Delilah made a mental note to ask how they came so quickly after she summoned them.

  In the end, after hours of debate, they narrowed it down to two candidates, both of whom were experienced and well-regarded: Masters Agata and Galina. “I will speak to each of them privately and make a decision within a few days.”

  Delilah tapped her staff on the floor. “I have two more points, and then we can adjourn. First, as one of the few acts I will make as current headmaster, I want to appoint Novice Katka as my apprentice.”

  The Black Wizard held up their hand. “I believe she rescheduled her Novice Trials for the day after tomorrow.”

  The drak sorceress had not seen her friend since before the duel. She nodded. “Excellent. In that case, I can wait a few days. Second, there are two items of research I intend to work on. One is a dragon egg I found when I was in the village of the Iron Giants.”

  She waited for the hubbub to diminish. As yet, Delilah had not revealed any details about her visit to the giants. “I kept many things from Vilkan when I reported back to him, mostly because I did not trust that he would react in an appropriate fashion.”

  “You told him their king was dead and you saw no dragon.” The Blue Wizard tilted their head.

  “I saw no living dragon.” Delilah raised a finger. “Pyraclannaseous was killed, probably by a wizard, as I intimated when I threw the broken wand at Vilkan. It is likely he was the cause. Being a Firstborne, her death cracked the earth under the mountain.”

  “The world cracked when Rannos Dragonsire was killed.” Clasping their hands, the White Wizard lowered their head.

  “That’s what the giants’ shaman said. She thought Pyraclannaseous’s death drove their king mad, causing him to attack us. They are willing to reopen peace talks now that Vilkan is dead.”

  “The king of the Iron Giants attacked you?” The Blue Wizard gasped. Sparing no details, Delilah recounted her recent encounter with the giants. She emphasized, using sweeping hand gestures, how their spearheads were drak-sized and how they barely escaped with their lives.

  “If I may, Archmage…” The Brown Wizard extended a hand. “What is the nature of your research with this dragon egg?”

  Delilah stretched her legs. Sitting in the chair stiffened her muscles, and she still ached from the duel. “My brother and I intend to take the egg to Pyraclannaseous’s brother, Terrakaptis, the Earth Dragon. I need to know how to care for it, how to tell when it’s ready to hatch, all that sort of thing.”

  The White Wizard nodded. “I am certain such information can be found in the library.”

  “A perfect task for an apprentice.” The Black Wizard nodded in agreement.

  The drak sorceress decided to take a risk. “Do the books in our library also speak of moon gates?”

  The high wizards turned their full attention to the archmage and proceeded to speak over each other.

  “The moon gates are lost.”

  “Destroyed in The Sundering.”

  “I have heard the Frost Queen has one.”

  “Are they tied to the Fae Nexuses?”

  “I believe they are affected by the King and Queen.”

  Delilah banged the butt of her staff against the floor until the wizards fell silent. It’s amazing they can accomplish anything together.

  “I found one.” She figured her brother would understand if she left out the details of their discovery.

  She swore she heard the Brown Wizard blink. “Where? With the Iron Giants?”

  The drak archmage coughed. “Until I learn more about it, I will keep that to myself. I don’t want curious onlookers crowding the area.”

  “A wise precaution.”

  “Most wise.”

  “Take care you do not hoard power solely for your own benefit.”

  The last came from the Green Wizard. All heads turned to regard the speaker. The wizard raised hands, conciliating. “No insult was intended, of course. Just a general caution.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Delilah stood and stretched. “We’re adjourned. I’m still sore.”

  They bowed to her in unison and shuffled out, using the side doors, rather than exiting to the main foyer. The Red, Green, and Brown Wizards lingered. When he noticed the Green and Brown Wizards remained, the Red Wizard bowed again and made a hasty exit.

  Delilah rubbed the base of her neck. “This can’t wait?”

  The two high wizards bowed and removed their masks. Masters Galina the Green and Agata the Brown regarded her.

  “Oh.” Delilah understood. “You want to talk about this headmaster thing.”

  Master Galina clasped her hands behind her back. “I do.”

  “As do I, but first”—Master Galina took to a knee—“I owe you an apology.”

  Delilah furrowed her brow. “For what?”

  “I hope you don’t think I was unfair. I was hard on you, more so than the rest of the high wizards. It wasn’t personal; I don’t know you well enough for it to have been personal. I just want a better archmage than Vilkan.” She bowed her head.

  Delilah placed her hand on Master Galina’s shoulder. “I understand.”

  Master Agata smiled. “Let’s get down to business, Galina. The archmage is still recovering from her injuries. We should not keep her too long.”

  The younger woman nodded and stood, smoothing her robes as she did so. “Very well, then.”

  Delilah shifted her staff to her other hand and rubbed her side where a bandage covered the long gash that almost eviscerated her. “So, what do you want?”

  “We appreciate your confidence in us, and we have thoughts about the archmage and headmaster positions.” Master Agata clasped her hands behind her, assuming the same posture as her peer. Archmage Delilah glanced up at the two women and wished to be taller. She found it a bit humorous that they looked downward to her for answers.

  “So, what about them?”

  “We have spoken at length about this very subject over the last several years…” Master Agata began.

  “And, we agree that the position here would be better served by two, rather than one.” Master Galina finished the sentence as though the two women had rehearsed their speech.

  “Other Arcane University campuses have a headmaster position, as well as a deputy headmaster.” The older woman paced as she spoke.

  Master Galina’s eyes followed as the other wizard crossed the room before turning her attention to Delilah. “There is no good reason for Muncifer to be different.”

  The drak sorceress admitted she was unfamiliar with the structure of the Arcane University campuses across Andelosia. Her knowledge began and ended with the understanding they were a part of the Mages Guild. “Why is Muncifer different?”

  “That’s very simple, really.” The yo
unger woman raised her eyebrows. “A succession of archmages based in Muncifer felt they knew better than anyone how to run the Arcane University.”

  The situation smacked of a set-up to Delilah. “Funny how you both have ideas to reform the university, and you both ended up being the top candidates.”

  Master Agata spun to face her. “Forgive me for being blunt. You, yourself, said you have neither the knowledge nor the interest to be headmaster. Of course we would push for ourselves.”

  The Master Galina gestured to Delilah. “You’ll notice none of the other high wizards campaigned strongly for any other candidate.”

  “If you’re worried about our intentions”—Master Agata gestured to herself and the younger wizard—“as archmage, you have the authority to remove us from the seat at any time.”

  “Oh.” Although that point had not occurred to Delilah, it made sense. She scratched under her chin—one of the few spots that wasn’t still tender. “Very well. Master Agata will be headmaster, and Master Galina will be your deputy”—the drak raised a finger—“after I get my apprentice.”

  The two women eyed each other and slowly turned their heads toward Delilah. She suspected they expected a longer discussion about the subject. The two women bowed to Delilah.

  “Very well. Thank you, Archmage.”

  Having nothing else to say, the two women left the chamber. The drak exited the court by way of the main doors, taking a moment to speak to Lyov.

  “Did you need something, Archmage?”

  “I was just curious about something. How did you always know to let people in when Manless was still archmage?” Delilah felt no compunction about using the insult now that Vilkan was dead.

  Lyov seemed nonplussed by the insult to his former superior. “Archmage Vilkan enjoyed showing off even the smallest amount of arcane power. No task was too simple, too petty for him to employ magic.”