Bonelord.
Realization hit Pancras like a runaway potato cart. Aita, ever present, and while he venerated her, she offered him so much more than he was willing to admit in his youth. In his ignorance, he turned away from his calling.
He fell to his knees, and again, she caught him. He looked up into eternity. “I will serve in any way you wish. Faithfully. Until my last breath leaves my body.” He chuckled. “Again.”
Aita steadied him on his hooves and then placed a hand on his brow as he bowed his head. Return to Calliome, Bonelord. The faithful servant of Aurora will guide you. She harbors a secret, but it will aid your struggle. She is with you now. She will believe. You must convince her. Listen, and remember: Bekkhildr’s blood, blood of Vibeke.
More images engulfed Pancras’s mind as the grey expanse fell away. The visage of Aita faded until the skull with eyes of eternity was all that remained, and finally, it, too, faded away. In an instant, the goddess’s purpose was as clear as the crystals in the caverns beneath Drak-Anor. He understood his task. His purpose. Why he was given another chance. He recognized what tools he needed to be successful and how to obtain them. Clarity conquered his doubt.
And Pancras lived once more.
* * *
A one-armed cultist lunged at Gisella, his mouth torn open from the trauma that killed him. She slashed at him with her sword and then rammed her armored elbow into his face. He staggered backward, leaving enough space for her to remove his head with one well-placed swing.
The most unnerving thing about the creatures they fought was their silence. No cries of pain at the horrible wounds Gisella, Qaliah, and Edric inflicted, no sound issued from their screaming maws as they attacked. Qaliah ducked and slashed, serving more as a distraction. The fiendling’s blade was effective against most living opponents, just not against the walking dead.
Edric’s position near the entrance was less busy than where Gisella and Qaliah stood fighting. The dwarf fought off zombies intent on killing their mounts. With one swing of his axe, he cut the legs out from under one of the rotting corpses and then buried his axe in its head. Once it was down, he severed its head from its body and kicked it away like a ball.
As Qaliah slashed open a dead cultist’s belly, an undead soldier grabbed her shoulders from behind. Gisella stabbed her sword upward, impaling him through the back. The Golden Slayer swept his legs out from under him as she withdrew her sword, ichor following her blade in an arcing spray. He fell prone, and the fiendling stabbed him through the head.
More zombies advanced on them, faces locked in screams of silent rage and hungry for the flesh of the living. Two more grabbed Qaliah. The fiendling slashed at them, her small blade ineffective against the remnants of their armor, which still covered them. They pulled her down.
Edric roared, racing across to her as fast as his stubby legs allowed. He dove toward Qaliah, rolling under the zombies and bowling them to the ground. In a flash, he rocked to his feet and hacked at their heads.
The Golden Slayer slashed at the legs of a zombie that reached for Edric, taking a leg off at the knee. The zombie fell onto Qaliah, but Gisella grabbed him by the back of his tunic, yanked him off the fiendling, and flung him down. She stabbed him through the mouth as Edric helped the fiendling to her feet.
“Where’s the minotaur?”
“He did this! He’s dead.” She yanked her sword out of the corpse and slashed at another zombie, sending it backward.
“What? Again?”
Gisella furrowed her brow and stared at the dwarf. Qaliah shrieked and punched a soldier’s corpse in the nose and sent it staggering. “It’s true. He raised an army. Then I killed him!”
“There’s too many of them! We have to find a defensible position.” Gisella scanned the area as she fended off another one. More poured from the keep with every passing minute. Soon, the entire garrison would surround them.
Edric pointed toward the gate. “Get to the horses!” He cut down another zombie and then ran.
A half-skeletal creature blocked their path. The blacksmith. His blackened arms held a massive sword. He raised it as Edric charged.
Gisella heard a voice behind her.
“Aita pairnei piso tee dyaenamee pou eiche klapei. Ypoloipo nekrees psychees. Peegainete sto aionio yeapno sas!”
She turned to face the voice. Pancras held his bejeweled rod aloft, green tendrils writhing around him like serpents and then exploding in a flash of emerald light. The energy washed over her like a blast of warm wind. She shielded her eyes against the light.
Wet, sticky liquid splashed her, and when she opened her eyes, Gisella stared in shock at the carnage. Only she, Edric, Qaliah, and Pancras remained standing. All the undead and severed remnants were obliterated, reduced to bloody mounds of decaying flesh, bones, and clothing, as if the hammer of the gods pounded them into the earth.
Gisella turned to face Pancras and leveled her sword. He secured his rod in the loop on his belt and then stood before them, hands clasped in front of him. She regarded the bloody hole in his robe where Qaliah shot him. However, he seemed to be in perfect health.
“You’re dead! I killed you!” Qaliah held her sword under his chin.
“You’re not wrong, but please.” He took the tip of her blade with two fingers and moved it away. “Hear me out before you kill me again.”
“You’re making a habit of this, Minotaur.” Edric wiped his axe with a cloak he took from a dead soldier’s remains as he approached them. Gisella glared at the dwarf. Of the three of them, he seemed to be the only one not surprised by Pancras’s reappearance.
“Everyone be quiet!” Gisella needed to make sense of things before she decided to kill the renegade before her. “Explain yourself, Wizard.”
“It is a long story, and until just a few minutes ago, I didn’t understand all of it myself.” He pressed his palms together. “Perhaps we should see to our horses?”
“No.” Gisella raised her blade. “You will tell us, now.”
Pancras held up his hands. “Yes, very well. Nearly a year ago now, I was tasked with investigating a ghoul outbreak under Ironkrag. With the assistance of Edric and Kale, we discovered a chaos rift and a shadow demon of some sort. We closed the rift and killed the demon, or so I thought.”
He lowered his hands and clasped them behind his back. “The demon survived by binding itself to me. I didn’t realize it at first, but when the twins told me I was raising undead in my sleep, I realized something was wrong. It could only act through me when I utilized my magic. The demon manipulated my dreams. In an attempt to stop it, I even changed my arcane focus. It came to a head in Almeria, and the creature manifested itself. Again, I thought it was defeated. Shortly thereafter, I was killed while defending myself in a petty altercation.”
“Petty?” Edric scoffed. “You killed the Prince of Etrunia!”
Gisella heard of Prince Gavril’s death, but no word had reached Muncifer as to the cause of his death.
Pancras cleared his throat. “Technically, he was no longer prince, nor did I deliver the fatal blow. He lived until after he ran me through.” The minotaur rubbed his right horn as he regarded Gisella. “He wanted me to curse his wife. After becoming acquainted with the princess, I could not go through with it. She is a good, honorable leader. Almeria and Etrunia are better off. I died that day.”
“Yet, here you stand.” Gisella lowered her blade to rest her arm, but did not sheath it in case she needed defend herself.
“Indeed. I saw a terrible visage. Not Aita, but something… someone else. I believe it now to have been the Lich Queen. She was accompanied by the shadow demon. They brought me back, exacting this toll…” Pancras reached up his robe and pulled off the leather sleeve covering his right arm. He clenched his blackened, withered claw into a fist. Though he was glad to be alive, he was disappointed Aita had not deemed it necessary to restore his arm.
“I hoped Aita would fix this when she sent me back once more. But, I digress.
I did not know why I was first sent back. Indeed, I was unable to remember any details of my encounter with the Lich Queen. I felt uneasy, tainted, you might say, but for the sake of my companions, I kept my concerns to myself. I eschewed using my magic, as much as possible. A darkness lurked at the edge of my vision, and its intensity increased when I thought too much about magic, or, now that I think on it, when I saw The Golden Slayer for the first time.”
“The Lich Queen is dead. Destroyed at the Battle of Badon Hill.” Gisella sheathed her sword. Rumors she had heard pointed toward the return of the Lich Queen, but she wanted to determine what this minotaur knew about it.
“So thinks everyone. I do not know the mechanism of her return, only that it is. When I used my magic to fight that cultist in the keep, the shadow demon returned. He took control of me and used me to animate all the dead in the area. Qaliah”—he inclined his head toward the fiendling—“put a stop to that, and for that, I thank you.”
“You’re thanking me… for putting a crossbow bolt in your chest?” The fiendling sheathed her sword as she narrowed her eyes, took a step back, and made a warding gesture.
“You killed me. This time, I saw not the Lich Queen, but someone else. A skull. Eyes like an inky-black pond on a star-filled night. The skull became a raven-haired woman. Aita.”
Gisella took a step back. “You saw the Princess of the Underworld? The goddess of death?”
“I did. I know it was she. She took the shadow within me and crushed it like an insect. She sent me back, and I understand why. I have been given an opportunity to set things right.” The minotaur chuckled. “I no longer feel a compulsion to travel to Vlorey.”
Gisella placed her hand on the hilt of her sword. No matter what the minotaur said or was, she was bound to her duty.
He raised his hand. “I no longer have the compulsion, yet I know I must still go there. I have to stop the Lich Queen. It is the reason I have returned.”
Edric laughed. “You’re mad. Being dead’s rotting your brain.”
Qaliah cocked her head. “It’s doing something to him, all right.”
“I will not be alone in this fight. Unlikely as it seems, Aita said that Aurora shamed all the gods when she acted first against the Lich Queen.”
A chill passed over Gisella. He cannot know.
Pancras stared at her, as if he could read her very thoughts. “I believe she gave me a message for you, Gisella.”
Gisella’s breath caught in her throat. She gestured to Qaliah and Edric. “Leave us. Check the horses.”
“What? Now?” Qaliah grabbed her arm. “This is getting good.”
“Go!” Gisella pushed the fiendling toward the horses.
Edric tugged on Qaliah’s jerkin. “Let’s go. We’re not good enough for their serious business. I’ll open a bottle of ale with you.”
Qaliah watched over her shoulder as Edric led her away. Gisella needed to hear what Pancras had to say in private before she was ready to bare her family secrets to just anyone. Her heart dreaded what he was about to tell her while her mind reconciled he could not possibly possess specific information about her.
“Speak, Minotaur.”
“Bekkhildr’s blood, blood of Vibeke.”
Gisella’s stomach churned, and she choked back bile rising into her throat. He cannot possibly know that! Her knees weakened, and only through sheer force of will did she not collapse before him. “How do you know that?”
“I told you.” Pancras placed his unwithered hand on her shoulder. “Aita herself told me.”
“Only one other living person knows what that means.”
“I do not know what it means, only that it is significant to one Aita called ‘the faithful of Aurora.’”
Gisella turned away from him, covering her mouth with her hand. The minotaur revealed a truth she withheld from her closest friends. Not because she didn’t trust them, but because she feared for their safety. All of her adult life, she did her duty while listening. Listening to rumors and stories about the Lich Queen, deciding which tales might contain a kernel of truth and which were wild speculation by the ignorant masses. Most of the people alive today were born after the Lich Queen’s final defeat. None of them understood what she truly wanted.
She swallowed and faced Pancras once more. “Vibeke was my mother.”
“And Bekkhildr? Your father?”
Gisella shook her head. “Vibeke’s mother. My grandmother.”
“I see.” Pancras pulled the leather sleeve up over his withered hand and arm. “What is their significance?”
“Bekkhildr the Iron Witch was better known as the Lich Queen.”
* * *
Initiates and novices gathered in the practice area. Master Galina, once again, served as proctor, while the Blue and Yellow Wizards observed the proceedings from the reviewing stand. Many of the novices in attendance were initiates the week prior, and in addition to Katka, Delilah didn’t recognize any of the novices. Her duties with the archmage and her studies with Master Valyrian left little time for socializing.
Unfortunately, that meant there was little time for Delilah to help Katka practice her offensive magic. She hoped the girl would execute the shield spell correctly this time. They waited their turn as Master Galina called forth other initiates.
Delilah took Katka’s hand when it was the young woman’s turn. “Remember, when it’s time to hit that target, give it everything you’ve got. You know what to do. I know you can succeed!”
Katka nodded and smiled and then dashed to present herself to Master Galina and the wizards in the reviewing stand. The challenges were the same as they were the prior week. They were designed to test basic proficiencies rather than challenge the students.
As before, Katka passed the first three parts of the trial with little effort. When it came time to attack the training dummy, the girl took a deep breath, raised her wand, and closed her eyes.
After a moment, she scowled. “Aktina tees pyrkagias!” A beam of fire shot from her wand, engulfing the head of the dummy. It erupted in flame and incinerated in an instant.
Delilah grinned and elbowed Conner in the hip. “I taught her that one.”
The young man looked impressed. “I’ll bet they weren’t expecting that.”
“Congratulations, Initiate. You may trade in your initiate robes and join the ranks of the novices.”
Katka’s gait to rejoin her friends was more akin to a bounce than a walk, and her smile widened to the point that it crinkled the skin at the corners of her eyes.
She took Delilah’s hands and jumped up and down. “I did it! I did it!”
“That’s great—”
“Initiate Delilah!”
“You’ll do great!” Katka squeezed her hands.
Yeah, I’d better. I’m too old to be learning how to make light and scrub cauldrons. “I’ll show them drak magic.”
Delilah bowed before Master Galina. The older woman inclined her head. “Create light.”
“Fos.” The top of Delilah’s staff illuminated.
“Initiate Delilah, I am going to cast a spell at you. If it hits you, it will harm you. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Delilah pulled the strands of magic to her before Master Galina began her spell. The bolt of energy dissipated with a spurt against the shell Delilah’s spell formed around her.
“Interesting.” Master Galina pointed to the tree behind Delilah. “Get a box from the tree using your magic.”
“No problem.” Delilah faced the tree, scanning the boxes. They were all about the same size. She picked the highest one. “Dynami antikeimeno kalesei.” The box flew out of the tree as Delilah fought to control the energies between her and the box. She was not accustomed to exercising this sort of fine manipulation, but by the time the box reached her, she managed to slow it enough so she could hop up, grab it, and then tuck it under one arm.
Master Galina saw the diminutive drak struggle to maintain a grip on her staff while she wrangled t
he oversized box, so she stepped forward and took the box from Delilah. “Very good. Attack one of the training dummies, please.”
Delilah walked over to the dummies and raised her staff. “Dapane phlogone.” A stream of fire shot from the eyes of her staff, engulfing the dummy. She ended the stream as soon as the end licked the dummy and stepped back as it became engulfed in flames.
“That is sufficient, Initiate. You may trade in your initiate’s robes for novice’s robes and join the ranks of the novices.” Master Galina bowed to Delilah. Before Delilah returned to the crowd, the older woman motioned her over. “You’ll want to watch how much you show off. Not everyone appreciates it away from the practice field.”
“Yes, Master Galina.” Delilah kept her voice level and bowed. She returned to Katka and Conner. “Let’s celebrate! First round is on me!”
* * *
“We’re never going to remove all the dirt and grime out of this place!” Kale stood and arched his back. The kink sent a spasm of pain into his wings.
“At least five years of accumulated crud. It’s going to take a while.” Kali put down her scrub brush and rubbed his wing joint.
“Maybe I should just burn it away.” He spat a gout of flame into the hearth, causing the fire to flare for a moment.
Kali wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. “Let me run far, far away before you do that. I like being warm and cozy, but I draw the line at being set on fire.”
The two draks spent the last several days doing nothing but cleaning. They started with the living quarters. Once they removed the debris, Kale realized he needed to purchase furniture at some point. Thus far, they continued to use the bedrolls they had slept in on the road. It wasn’t horrible, at least they had a roof over their heads, but Kale found himself wanting a real bed. After their personal quarters, Kale insisted they clean up Delilah’s room. It was the only other room that could be used for sleeping quarters, and he wanted it to be ready if she arrived.
Lament (Scars of the Sundering Book 2) Page 20