Malediction (Scars of the Sundering Book 1) (19 page)

A few
moments later, Pancras came running out of the throne room, followed by an
auburn-haired woman wearing the gleaming armor of the Royal Guard. "What's
going on?"

"Delilah
and I were just exploring the palace, like you said to. We were in this big
underground vault thing when these undead things just attacked. They were
zombies or ghouls or something, I don't know. They were nasty with long, black,
claws, and their skin was rotting off."

The woman
next to Pancras nodded. "The catacombs, in the undercroft. We've never had
trouble with undead there before."

"I
roasted them." Delilah put her hand on Kale's shoulder and straightened
her back.

Pancras
looked at the woman as he nodded at Delilah. "That would be the explosion
we heard, Lady Milena."

"Wizardry?"
Lady Milena raised an eyebrow and regarded Delilah with new appreciation.
"I hope you have not damaged the palace. The undercroft is very old. It
has served as the foundation of not only this palace, but the one that was here
before, as well."

Pancras
knelt and took each drak by the shoulder. "Are you two all right?"

Brushing off
his hand, Delilah nodded. "We're fine. We may not see much action anymore,
but we can handle a pack of ghouls. Or zombies, whatever they were. We didn't
stick around to ask."

"Hey,
Pancras. Do you think this has anything to do with those ghouls we found under
Ironkrag? They never had problems either until recently, remember?"

Lady Milena
turned her gaze toward Kale. "What's this?"

Pancras
stood. "Shortly before we left to travel here, Kale and I, along with our
dwarf companion, found and defeated the source of a new ghoul infestation in
the caverns near Deep Road under Ironkrag. Something created them, even out of
dwarves, but I believed we destroyed the creature."

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 the 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.