Lament (Scars of the Sundering Book 2) (19 page)

“Even when they’re unfair? It’s
like he doesn’t want us in town. We were here first!”

“Enough!” The guard slammed his
cudgel on the platform next to Jairo. “I don’t make laws, I just enforce them.
Make your case in that broadsheet of yours.” He leaned in. “I know for a fact
several councilors read it. You’ll have better luck with your silent voice in
that than stirring up mobs in the undercity.”

The rest of the guards ushered
people away, uncluttering the streets enough that Kale considered dashing to a
nearby shop to move away from the crowd. The sign was carved with an angular
design that gave no clues as to what it sold.
With my luck, it’ll be a dress
shop.

“Let’s go, Kale.” Kali stepped
down off the platform. “Maybe they’ll let us go about our business for a bit.”

The guard grabbed Kale’s arm and
leaned down, his breath stinking of beef and cheese. “Don’t encourage the mob.
They’re angry and bored. They don’t need more instigators. You’re not
inconspicuous, so don’t think you can hide in the shadows and stir up trouble.”

Kale tilted his head upward
toward the guard and shook his head. “I don’t want trouble. I just want to mind
my own business.”

He released Kale and nodded.
“Fine then. Go on your way.”

The crowds kept their distance
the remainder of the morning, though he still overheard their whispers of awe
and adulation. It was only a matter of time before the guard’s admonishment was
forgotten and they mobbed him again.

He pulled Kali aside as they ate
some spit-roasted squab from a stand in the undercity market. “I don’t know
what’s going on in this town between the minotaurs, humans, and draks, but I
really don’t want anything to do with it. Maybe we can go visit some of the nearby
villages after Deli passes her trials.”

Kali nodded in agreement. “As
much as I don’t want to be bored, I don’t want to deal with Almeria all over
again.”

* * *

Once the weather broke, Pancras
anxiously wanted to return to the road and continue their journey. Part of it
was his compulsion to arrive in Vlorey as soon as possible, but a more
immediate incentive was his desire to leave Toma’s house. The bed was too
small, Edric too noisy, and having the fiendling share with them because of
some unspoken disagreement with Gisella was awkward.

Fortunately, one of the farmers
had a gelding, Comet, she was willing to sell Qaliah. Pancras felt it was more
out of a desire for the fiendling to leave than to make money. Nevertheless,
they acquired a young piebald of gentle disposition and left Rock Ridge behind.

As they rode under a clear blue
sky, Pancras’s thoughts wandered to the draks he left behind in Muncifer. He
felt responsible for their welfare, even though Kale and Delilah were both
adults and capable of caring for themselves. In addition, Kale seemed well on
his way to settling down.

The peace of his thoughts was
shattered by a whoop from Qaliah as she raced past him, Edric hot on her heels.
The dwarf swore continuously and called down the wrath of the gods on her head,
but her spirited young horse outpaced his pony.

Gisella nudged Moonsilver next to
Stormheart. “Those two are going to kill each other, I think.”

“If Edric would just ignore her
jibes and baiting, she’d grow bored quickly enough.” Pancras knew Qaliah’s
type. In every place he had visited or lived, there was always someone who
enjoyed provoking others. Qaliah knew exactly which of Edric’s buttons to push,
as if by instinct.

“She’s quite the instigator.”

“What happened between you? What
sent her to our room?”

Gisella coughed and looked away.
After a moment, she sighed. “She propositioned me. When I told her I was not
interested, things became awkward between us.”

“Ah. Yes, I understand.” Pancras
acknowledged that both Gisella and Qaliah were attractive by most standards,
but he was not interested in either of them. Several minotaur females
propositioned him in Drak-Anor over the years, and revealing to them why he
wasn’t interested always yielded an uncomfortable moment.

The fiendling let the dwarf chase
her for most of the morning. When they finally settled down, the sun was high
in the sky and their steeds ready for a break. They all dismounted and walked
their horses.

Were it not for the road they
followed, Pancras understood how one could ride in circles for days, traveling
nowhere. The rolling terrain dotted with groves and fields was largely the same
from hill to hill. Subtle variations were lost on city-dwellers like Pancras.
He wished there was a quicker way to travel to Vlorey and cursed the archmage
for sending him so far away.

“I’m bored.” Qaliah broke the
silence Pancras enjoyed. “Hey Wizard, don’t you have some magic that can make
this trip go faster? Or be less boring?”

“Not really, no.” Pancras was
unaware of any conjurations or spells that would speed their journey, although
he remembered hearing stories of a time from before The Sundering in which
magic enabled wizards to cross vast distances quickly. If that type of magic
ever actually existed, it was long ago lost to the world.

“So much for all-powerful
wizardry.”

“Wizards only want you to think
magic is all-powerful.” Gisella looked back at Pancras. “Isn’t that right,
Pancras?”

“I never tried to convince anyone
of any such thing. I just wanted to be left alone with my books and alchemy
equipment.”

Qaliah leaned in close to Edric,
but she made no effort to lower her voice. “It’s always the quiet loners you
have to watch out for, eh?”

Edric chuckled. “Especially the
ones that make your bones jump up and dance out of your body.”

“Ohh, he’s one of those wizards.”
Qaliah regarded Pancras with a sly grin and winked.

He sighed and stared into the
sun, shielding his eyes as he tilted his head upward.
Maybe if I wish hard
enough, time will speed up.

Chapter 11

Archduke Fyodar was a more
imposing man than Archmage Vilkan, a feat Delilah thought impossible. His
velvet cloak hung from broad shoulders, and though his belly protruded like a
round pot at his waist, she sensed he was one capable of holding his own in a
fight. Piercing grey eyes sat above prominent cheekbones covered by a
salt-and-pepper beard.

He paced the width of the table
upon which a map of the area laid. Archmage Vilkan stood at the end of the
table and stabbed the map with a crooked finger. “Fallow Gulch and Oakcreek
will be the first to fall if the giants attack.”

Delilah stifled a yawn and leaned
on her staff. For the past three hours, the two men argued about the giants.
Without the context of their prior conversations, she found it difficult to
follow their conversation at first, but after three hours of them retreading
the same ground, each convinced of the other’s fault and incompetence, her
understanding grew.

“The giants have kept the peace
for decades.” The archduke stopped and slammed his fist on the table. “Why
now?”

“Why not? It was a harsh winter.
Even the giants need food, and I’ll wager they burned through their stockpiles
faster than they planned. Now, what we trade is insufficient, and they want
more.”

The archduke shook his head. “No.
No, I cannot ascribe to that interpretation. We’ve had bad winters before. This
wasn’t even the worst of the last decade.”

Archmage Vilkan spread his hands.
“Something has them riled up. Perhaps your emissaries insulted them. We don’t
know what occurred during their last meeting.”

“It was your plan! I sent them
with your instructions!” Archduke Fyodar spoke through clenched teeth.

“They obviously failed. Let me
send my own emissaries. They fear magic. My people can calm them down.”

“I don’t want them to fear us!”
The archduke resumed his pacing. The floorboards under his feet creaked as he
strode back and forth. “I want the peace to continue. They’ve been good allies
and a great deterrent for whatever is in the Western Wastes.”

“Cathar, fiendlings, and savage
elves who’ve turned their backs on the trees and survive on the flesh of men.”

Delilah encountered the cathar, a
race of ill-tempered, vulture-like creatures, but it was the first she’d heard
of feral elves. The way the archmage’s eyes followed the archduke’s every move,
she guessed he embellished a bit.

“Everything was fine until after
your visit this spring, Vilkan. Perhaps they blame you for those tremors.” The
archduke pursed his lips as he stared at the archmage.

“Preposterous.” Archmage Vilkan
crossed his hands over his chest as he glared at the archduke. “I know nothing
of earth magic.”

The two men continued their
debate, addressing the same issues as they had during the previous three hours
of their meeting. Delilah didn’t see what the archmage hoped to accomplish by
bringing her along with him. She sighed and wished once again that she could
have snuck in her grimoire.

A page bolted into the room and
interrupted their discussion. As he fought to catch his breath, the archduke
poured him a glass of wine. He gulped it down. “A band of giants have come down
from the mountains. They’re in the gulley leading to the old watergate!”

“What? How did they avoid our
scouts?”

The archmage slapped the map near
where the page indicated the giants were. “Now their scouts are probing us! I
will handle them, Archduke. Come, Initiate!”

Archmage Vilkan spun, whipping
his cloak behind him, and stalked out of the room. Delilah scrambled after him
as he ignored the protests of the archduke. She followed him through the dimly
lit corridors of Grimstone Keep and up onto the battlements.

Located at the edge of the city,
Grimstone Keep overlooked the western gate. A dry riverbed south of the gate
handled overflow water, which cascaded from the mountains. Much of the water
was still locked in snow, but from what Delilah had heard, the riverbed would
be close to spilling over within the next month.

A band of five giants marched
into the gully. They carried clubs on their shoulders that appeared to have
once been trees. The two giants at the rear dragged a cart covered in furs of
some sort. All five resembled humans, albeit three times the height of the
archmage, with wider noses and more muscular bodies and skin the color of wet
stone. They were clad in patchwork animal skins and furs, and even at this
distance, Delilah noticed short tusks protruding from their lips.

“Vilkan! Wait just a damn
minute!” The archduke sprinted up the steps onto the battlements. Delilah
clicked her teeth and nodded, impressed that a man with a belly that vast could
move so quickly.

The archduke was too late.
Already, smoky swirls of red aether writhed around the archmage. He held aloft
his focus, a bejeweled vial, in his right hand as he chanted, “
Astrapes
kataigida!
”

Dark clouds swirled overhead, roiling
in the sky and flashing with energy. Forks of lightning sought ground, the
booming thunder that accompanied them seeming to rattle the very stones of the
keep. Archduke Fyodar moved to grab the archmage, but Delilah raised her staff,
laying it across her chest as she stepped between them.

“Bad idea, Your Grace. It’s too
dangerous.” She had to shout to make herself heard over the crashing thunder
and howling wind. To his credit, the archduke decided to glare at the archmage
instead of interrupting his spell. The giants raised their clubs and ducked
their heads. They turned and ran but found no cover in the open fields and
gullies.

Delilah realized from the glowing
wisps of red smoke surrounding Archmage Vilkan he was far from finished.
“Elenchomeni
anemostrovilos
!”

The dark clouds covering the
western sky swirled. Dirt and debris flew through the air. The howling wind
became a roaring animal in Delilah’s ears. It buffeted her, and she clutched
her staff as she fought to stay upright. She lowered her head and stumbled
toward the crenellations as her staff flew from her trembling fingers and
clattered across the battlements. Daring to raise her head, she peeked over the
wall.

A whirling funnel of wind
descended from the clouds above the giants. It scoured the land clean where it
touched down, carving a line of destruction toward the giants. They split up,
fleeing in different directions, as did the tornado. One by one, the funnels of
death found them, pulled them into the air, and flung them away as bolts of
lightning stabbed them from the heavens. Delilah observed one of their
smoldering corpses bounce as it hit the earth near a farm, breaking through a
fence before coming to rest.

The drak sorceress ducked behind
the crenellation as the magical storm raged at the whim of the archmage.
Archduke Fyodar crouched next to her, his face a mix of fury and fear.

When the storm abated, the
archmage kicked Delilah’s staff to her and stood in front of the drak and the
archduke. “That is how we will handle the giants, Your Grace.”

* * *

Kale’s hat flew off his head as
he struggled against the sudden wind. He held fast to Kali’s hand as they
sought shelter in the undercity corridors. He observed draks and minotaurs on
the walkways doing the same, all running toward the nearest shops or covered
side streets. The sky above was angry; dark, swirling clouds barreled in like
an avalanche from the heavens, turning the clear blue sky into a roiling mass
of inky blackness within minutes.

A minotaur pulled two draks
behind him as he ran into the corridor behind Kale. He crouched over the draks
to protect them. “I’ve never seen anything like it! Where did it come from?”

Kale had no answer for him. In the
distance, he heard a roaring howl of what sounded like a great beast descending
from the heavens to devour the city. Dust and debris blew past, and what
perplexed Kale most was the lack of rain. The walkways and bridges were empty
now. The crack of thunder reverberated through the chasm, its sound amplified
by the rock walls.

More thunder rattled the huddled
masses, and though it seemed impossible, the wind intensified. Kale heard a
deep, primal scream and then noticed a man-shaped mass fall past the entrance,
down into the chasm dividing the two halves of the undercity. He strained to
gain a closer look, clutching his mate to keep from being blown away. Pulling
in his wings, he shrouded Kali within them.

The howling stopped, and the wind
subsided. The dark, roiling clouds slid away and dissipated like a pinch of
sand dropped in a swift river. For a moment, all was still, and then a bird
chirped, as if to say, “All clear!”

Kale stepped onto the walkway
from the side street, still holding his mate’s hand. He looked up, the clear
blue sky showing no sign of the storm that drove them all to shelter.

“What in the name of Tinian’s
lance was that?” A minotaur shielded his eyes as he glanced skyward. He stepped
over to the railing and then noticed the body in the chasm. “By Anetha’s
Shield!”

Kale peered into the crevasse. He
felt his head swim as he tried to focus on the shape at the bottom. A human
shape lay twisted and broken on the rocks far below.
That can’t be… a human
wouldn’t look that big from way up here.

“It’s a giant!” The minotaur
reeled backward and squinted as he studied the sky. “Giants, falling from the
sky! What does it mean?”

“It’s a sign! An omen!” A drak
with dark-green scales ducked under the minotaur’s arm and scowled as he
inspected the cavern. “Adranus is displeased! He will rain giants upon us and
destroy us all!”

“What sense does that make?” Kali
pulled the drak away from the edge. “That giant is dead, smashed to bits! Not
much of a plan if all the giants he throws at us end up like that one.”

The drak squirmed, unable to free
himself from Kali’s grip. “Not all of them will fall into the chasm. I’ll bet
some of them will land on the walkway. Right now, there could be giants
rampaging through the upper city! Our doom is at hand!”

Kali released the ranting drak.
He bolted, screaming about the end times, an apocalypse of giant men.

“He’s cracked his nut, that one
has.” The minotaur regarded at Kali and then Kale. “You! I can’t get my
potatoes to market because of you!”

Kale recognized the potato-pushing
minotaur. He held up his hands as he backpedaled. “Hey, I can’t help it if
these draks go crazy when I’m around. They think these stripes actually mean
something.”

The minotaur clenched his fist
and gritted his teeth as he advanced upon Kale. “They mean something all right:
trouble for me. I ought to throw you to the giant down there.”

Kale fluttered his wings before
drawing them close to his body. “Yeah? Go ahead.”

“Kale!” Kali reached for him as
the minotaur darted forward and seized him. He heard her shriek of despair as
the potato merchant flung him through the air and over the railing.

* * *

Despite Pancras’s most fervent
wishes, time did not speed up. In fact, it seemed to slow to a crawl. The land
east of Muncifer was mostly farmland and grew flatter the farther from the city
they traveled. Unlike the farmland south of Almeria, ample forests and groves
dotted the landscape. Every few days, they left the comfort of the road and
traveled through rougher terrain in order to avoid contact with, and pass,
slow-moving trade caravans. They had nothing to trade and no desire to court
trouble if any of the caravans harbored unfounded fear of fiendlings.

“Somewhere along this road, we
left Muncifer’s area of influence and entered the extended reach of Etrunia.”
Gisella attempted to stave off the party’s mutual boredom by engaging them in
conversation once Qaliah grew tired of antagonizing Edric.

“I didn’t realize Etrunia had
lands this far south. Is not the Icymist River the southern border of Etrunia?”

“The land between the Granite
Tributary and the Greatbear Run are in dispute. Prince Gavril annexed the area
east of the Greatbear a few years ago, including the Shadowfen Marsh. Gods know
why.”

Now a sunken swamp and the castle
in ruins, the grandeur and splendor of Abbar Castle once stood at the center of
Shadowfen Marsh. Pancras scratched his head. “Of what value are those lands to
nobles in Almeria?”

“Only the gods know.” Gisella
continued. “Now Etrunia controls almost everything up to the Iron Gate
Mountains, except the city of Muncifer. Of course, the mudders of Curton and
the people in Cliffport don’t really see it that way.”

“I wonder if Princess Valene will
enforce those claims.” Despite his time amid Almerian court, Pancras learned
little about the political landscape. “She seemed to oppose many of her late
husband’s policies.”

“Time will tell. If she’s smart,
she’ll send soldiers to garrison the forts and reinforce the fact that Etrunia
controls the lands.”

Pancras could vouch for Princess
Valene’s intelligence. If there was strategic value to Almeria enforcing the
Etrunia rule of these lands, she would figure out a way to make her intent
clear to the population.