“Further, after becoming archmage, I rediscovered the secret of the moon gates, a pre-Sundering transportation network built by drak wizards. I intend to revitalize this network to make travel between our universities easier, and in time, perhaps to benefit all the peoples of Calliome. This will require us wizards to work more closely with the common folk of the world than we have in an age. I hope you will join with me in this. Together, we can make the world a better place.”
There. I laid it out. It’s a plan, I guess. Her words met with scattered applause, and the students murmured to one another. Delilah, uncertain her impromptu speech was wise, spoke from her heart. As she stepped down from the podium and exited the assembly hall through the rear faculty entrance, she trembled and clutched her knotted stomach. Let’s not ever do that again, Deli-girl.
***
The weather broke on the third day and brought with it a steamy, sun-filled morning. A messenger from the Palace of Justice interrupted Pancras’s meal with Orion.
A wiry, flush-faced lad wearing the tabard of the Justicars greeted Pancras when he answered the door. He handed the bonelord a note. “From the Lord Justice, sir!” He bowed before turning and running off. The minotaur shut the door and broke the seal as he returned to his seat.
“Fenwick has returned and awaits us in his office. As soon as possible, he says.” Pancras turned the parchment over. “It says nothing about his meeting with the king.”
“It won’t.” Orion shook his head. “Fenwick keeps his messages short and to the point. He’ll tell you in person.” The Justicar tossed a meat-filled hand pie to Pancras and took one for himself before standing and picking up his halberd.
“Best not to keep him waiting.”
Pancras collected another meat pie for Delilah, and after they roused her, they left together. Eating as they traveled, the minotaurs endured the archmage’s complaints about the early hour. Merchants milled about, either setting up their shops and stalls or running errands that needed to be completed before they opened for commerce.
The Golden Slayer and her sister arrived before they did and were waiting for them along the main staircase reminiscing about home.
“Where’s Qaliah?” Pancras scanned the area for her.
“She’s a crook and a layabout!” Alysha scowled as she leaned against the base of the fountain of the Divine Tribunal.
The drak archmage tapped her staff on the floor. “I knew it!”
Gisella pursed her lips and glared at her sister. “She decided since she’s not going with us, there was no reason for her to ‘greet Apellon’s arse crack,’ as she put it.”
Pancras rubbed his right horn as he cocked his head toward Alysha. “Crook?”
“She’s charging me five crowns a day to rent her flea-bitten horse.”
Orion rubbed his jaw. “Hmm, five crowns a day?”
“Comet is not flea-bitten.” Pancras glanced at Orion. “At least, he wasn’t when we arrived.”
“Then it is a good deal.” The Justicar nodded at Alysha. “You should be happy she was willing to lend you a steed at that price.”
The sorceress remained unconvinced and grunted. “We’re saving the world. It should have been free.”
“Dolios help me if she ever schemes with Kale.” Delilah hissed under her breath. “He’ll end up charging me!”
Orion gestured to the stairs. “Shall we? The Lord Justice awaits.”
As they climbed the grand staircase, they passed a pair of Justicars clad head to toe in blue-and-gold enameled steel plate armor. The men clanked as they walked, a cacophony of resplendent metal. Pancras admired them as they passed, engaged in conversation.
When they reached the top of the stairs, he took Orion aside. “Why don’t you have armor like that?” He gestured to the two humans, now at the bottom of the stairs. “It’s elegant.”
“Smiths charge too much for armor like that to fit a minotaur.” Orion regarded the men as they left the Palace of Justice. “Besides, that type of finery is easily destroyed in combat. They must be attending an official function for one of the nobles.”
A gift then, perhaps, once I return. What one considered an exorbitant price, another might feel was fair. For all the time they spent together, Pancras still had much to learn about Orion.
Lord Fenwick and Scout Stonehammer stood at his desk, examining a map. The dwarf woman stood on a chair alongside the Lord Justice. The two greeted the group when they entered.
“Ah, you received my summons.” He glanced out the windows. “And made haste, by the look of things. Excellent!” He raised an eyebrow as he regarded the archmage. “Picked up a new companion while I was away?”
Pancras gestured toward Delilah and bowed. “My friend, Archmage Delilah, of the Mage’s Guild. She’s to lend a hand.”
“The archmage, eh? Very good. I’d heard there was a shake-up among the wizards.” Lord Fenwick snapped to attention and nodded at her. “I’m pleased you’ve chosen to join our little crusade.”
Lord Fenwick gestured for them to join Scout Stonehammer and him around the table. “We’ve just been going over the best route to Zamora. There was a road through the marshes”—he pointed to a spot on the map between Badon Hill and Caernoth—“but its navigability is questionable.”
“Shove over, Dwarf.” Delilah tapped Valora’s ankle and climbed up in the chair on which the dwarf woman stood. Pancras noticed pain in the dwarf’s eyes as she bit her tongue.
“Ugh, marshes.” Alysha regarded her fur-trimmed white robe. “That road better be passable.”
As much as he hated travel, Pancras viewed mucking about knee-deep mud and stagnant water as close to damnation on this world as one could get.
Gisella elbowed her sister in the ribs. “Those enchanted robes aren’t self-cleaning?”
“Well, as a matter of fact, they are. But that’s beside the point. I hear there are blood-sucking bugs and worse in marshes”—she leaned toward her sister—“trolls and even dreaded Bog Beasts of Ethiopus.”
The color drained from Gisella’s face, and her jaw twitched as she gritted her teeth.
Lord Fenwick burst out laughing. “Bog Beast of who?”
Scout Stonehammer bit her lip, and her dusky face flushed as the corners of her eyes wrinkled in suppressed mirth.
“Tell them, Gisella.” Alysha snickered. “Tell them of your encounter with the dreaded bog beast. Or shall I?” She held out her hand, palm upraised, as if seeking a bribe in exchange for her silence.
The Golden Slayer slapped away her sister’s hand. “We don’t have time for this.”
“Too right.” Lord Fenwick nudged Valora. The dwarf woman cleared her throat and forced the smile from her face.
The Lord Justice cleared his throat. “I’ve spoken to the king. As I suspected, he’s unwilling to commit forces at this time but wishes to be kept informed. He also requested two Justicars as an escort.”
Pancras nodded in understanding. Hence the Justicars in the formal armor.
“He plans to enter the city and meet with the Council of Lords.” Lord Fenwick rolled up the map. “He wants everyone in agreement… in case we fail. Valora and I are ready to depart as soon as your preparations are made.”
“We are ready, Lord Fenwick.” Gisella regarded Pancras and tilted her head, waiting for his confirmation.
“Yes, indeed.” Pancras raised Shatterskull. “Gisella was kind enough to purchase provisions while you were away. We can depart immediately.”
“Then I shall take my leave.” Orion crossed his fist over his chest and bowed to the Lord Justice. “I have duties.”
His eyes lingered as they met Pancras’s. The bonelord excused himself from the assembled group and followed Orion into the hall. The Justicar took his hands and pressed them to his nose.
“Be safe. Be careful. Return victorious.”
The minotaur wizard lowered his head and pressed it against Orion’s, cupping his withered hand around the base of the Justicar’s left
horn. “You’ve given me a reason to return, and so I shall.” They stood motionless, until Orion broke away and marched down the stairs.
Pancras watched him leave. Orion didn’t look back.
***
Delilah’s eyes widened as the dwarf scout mounted her battle boar. “I need one of those. That’s way better than those lizards we bought.” As she spoke, she remembered Fang, the nailtooth lizard that carried her to Muncifer more than a year earlier. “I wonder what became of them after we set them loose in the mountains.”
“Why did you set them loose?” Pancras raised an eyebrow as he regarded the archmage.
“Long story. I’ll fill you in later.”
Pancras offered her a hand from atop Stormheart. “Fine. You can ride with me, Delilah.” He pulled her up and sat her in front of him. She gripped his bare arm and twisted to face him.
“Where’s the rest of your robes? I’ve never seen you not covered from head to hoof.” The minotaur wore a linen shirt the color of sapphires and a black leather kilt with gold studs and buckles.
“Too hot for full robes.” He patted Shatterskull, secure it its saddle holster. “Besides, they make wielding this awkward.”
Lord Fenwick pulled alongside them astride his snorting black stallion, Shadowmane, several hands taller than their modest steed. “We’ll follow the road for a day and then turn south.”
The Lord Justice spurred Shadowmane and passed through the city gates at a full gallop. The two Watchmaidens followed, and Pancras and Valora brought up the rear. With the sun at their backs throughout the morning, it seemed as if Apellon himself drove them onward on a quest to eradicate darkness.
As the sun passed overhead and began its descent, flooding their faces with oppressive heat and blinding them, Pancras decided Apellon was, indeed, cruel and intended to cause them as much discomfort as possible before allowing them to rest for the night. That evening, Delilah regaled them with the full tale of Pyraclannaseous and her death at the hands of Vilkan Manless, their discovery of the Firstborne’s egg, and her fateful duel with the archmage.
The next day, they turned off the road and onto a dirt trail leading south into farmlands. The first of autumn’s cool breezes cut across their path as they rode through the lush, rolling fields of western Cardoba.
Apellon’s fury returned on the third day, beating down with heat and humidity. Clouds gathered on the horizon, overtaking them by midday, and granted a reprieve from the sun’s intense glare as they continued south. A few days later, the clouds darkened, and the lush farmland became sparse, scrub-covered crags.
On the fifth day, they made camp on a jagged overlook. From the edge, Pancras viewed the soggy wetlands into which they would ride the next morning. Mist clung to the trees and bogs, vapor on the water like a dragon’s breath in winter. Fenwick climbed the bluff to join Pancras as he regarded the marsh.
“How far into the marsh is Zamora?” Pancras shielded his eyes from the setting sun and peered into the distance, noting only treetops and swampland.
Fenwick unrolled his map. “We should be able to see it from here. Perhaps the ruins have crumbled below the treetops.”
Although Pancras agreed that was possible, he pondered a worse alternative. “Or it could be veiled from sight.”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.” Fenwick rolled up his map and stuffed it in his pouch. “It won’t stay veiled from the light of the Divine Tribunal, I promise you that.”
Chapter 25
On foot, Scout Stonehammer led the way into the swamp, hacking with twin axes at the vines and branches that obstructed the overgrown path. After some initial grumbling, she permitted Delilah to ride Quincy in her stead as the rest followed behind her.
Humidity and odors rising from the stagnant waters in the Witchmoor labored their breathing. Clouds covering the sun did little to stave off the sweltering heat, and steam rose from the soggy ground surrounding them. The drak archmage struggled to keep the battle boar moving forward. He wanted to stop every few feet to gnaw on the cut ends of vines dangling level with his head.
“Damn!” Valora swore and swung her axe, embedding it into the trunk of a twisted, gnarled dogwood tree.
Delilah raised a fist to signal the column behind her to stop before she dismounted. “What’s wrong?”
The dwarf gestured to the trail in front of her. “Just look! We can’t get through this gods-cursed tangle.”
Delilah saw nothing ahead that would obstruct their journey, nothing Valora’s axes couldn’t hack away, at any rate. She picked her way past the dwarf, handing Quincy’s reins to her as she passed. The air grew thick. Pushing her way forward reminded the archmage of the initial plane of the moon gate, except it didn’t give way.
She returned to Valora’s side. “There’s something there, all right.”
Valora spat into the swamp. “Of course there is! Did you think those thorn-covered branches would just part for you?”
“What’s the holdup?” Lord Fenwick and Gisella approached them. The Golden Slayer glanced at Quincy as she passed and gave the boar a wide berth, slipping off the path and into calf-high water to do so.
“Something is blocking our way.” Delilah gestured to the trail.
“I see that. I’ve never seen brambles grow that thick.” He motioned to Gisella. “Can you see any way through down in the water?”
The Watchmaiden grabbed onto an overhead vine. “I dare not go further. It’s been getting deeper the farther I go.”
Delilah cocked her head. Gisella stood in water only halfway to her knees. The archmage shooed them all away. “Get back. Get Pancras and Alysha up here. There’s wizardry at work.”
“What do you mean?” Valora yanked her axe out of the tree. “I know an impassible trail when I see one.”
“Whatever lay beyond has enchanted you. The trail is clear, a little overgrown, perhaps, but not impassible. I feel a barrier.” She waved Pancras and Alysha over. “What do you see? A clear trail or impassible brambles?”
“Is this some inappropriate game?” Alysha frowned and glared at her sister. “It’s clear, of course.”
“No.” Pancras pulled Shatterskull close to his chest. The weapon’s head shifted and flowed, transforming into the image of a grinning skull. “There are powerful enchantments on this path. The work of a necromancer.”
“Believe me now?” Delilah nodded at Lord Fenwick. “How’s that light of the Tribunal?”
The human grunted. “It’s not to be taken literally.” Lord Fenwick took Quincy’s reins from Valora. “We’ll tie up the horses. We’ll proceed on foot from here. Can you wizards get us through?”
Valora followed the Justicar. “Through what? Are they going to burn down the trees?”
Alysha pulled her sister out of the muck and moved alongside Pancras and Delilah. “We can breech this if we work together.”
The archmage tugged at the Frost Queen’s white sleeve. She was amazed how pristine it remained throughout their journey and made a mental note to learn those enchantments from Alysha before they parted ways.
“Guess what there isn’t time to learn when you grow up blasting dwarves and oroqs?”
“Blasting what?” Valora’s voice called from the trail behind them.
Alysha leaned down. “Dialysee goe’tia. Just follow my lead.”
She stood in the center of the trio and raised her staff. Wispy tendrils of sapphire energy flowed into it. “Dialysee goe’tia. Dialysee goe’tia.”
The minotaur stood alongside her, repeating the incantation in unison as he held Shatterskull before him. Azure tendrils flowed through his weapon, swirling through the air as they mixed with the energy from the Frost Queen’s staff.
Delilah raised her own staff as the eyes of the lizard skull glowed with cerulean light. Energies from her staff joined with the energies of the Frost Queen and Bonelord of Aita, forming a turquoise sphere that expanded around them until it burst with a blinding flash, obliterating the enchantment
in a spray of turquoise fire.
The archmage leaned on her staff as she examined their handiwork. The path was now clear. She glanced over her shoulder at Valora and gestured ahead. “After you.”
***
Gisella turned away from the magical blast, yet still felt a wave from the dissipation of arcane energy. Pinpricks crawled all over her skin as she leaned against a dogwood and removed her boots, emptying the water that filled them. When no liquid poured out, she sighed. I hate enchantments.
She cursed her foolishness in wading into such an illusion. Her training as a slayer was supposed to protect her from succumbing to such arcana, yet she had been deceived by the trickery as easily as Fenwick and Valora had been. The phantasm had appeared perfectly natural and real to her.
Alysha slapped her on the shoulder. “Don’t feel bad, sister. I’ve not seen a more powerful enchantment covering a large area like this.”
Everyone checked their weapons and armor once more before proceeding. Valora continued to hack away at vines growing too close to the path. Ahead, Gisella noticed the trees and shrubs appeared more twisted and overgrown than those behind them. Some leaned away from the path, bent away from the direction in which they traveled, as though attempting to flee from what lay ahead, anchored in place by the very roots which gave them life.
More clouds rolled in, completely blocking the setting sun from view. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the trees grew knobby and warped. A foul odor lingered, permeating the air so thoroughly Gisella tasted it.
Valora held up her hand, signaling the rest to stop. She trotted back. “There’s a clearing up there, some sort of structure.”
“Zamora.” Pancras hefted Shatterskull. “Hold here a moment.”
Salvation (Scars of the Sundering Book 3) Page 35