Free Lament (Scars of the Sundering Book 2) by Hans Cummings Page B

If you would like to break your fast with us, you’re more than welcome
to before you resume your journey.” Vasily offered Pancras a steaming mug of
murky brown liquid.
    Pancras sniffed it. “What is
this?”
    “Beef bro—oh.” Vasily snatched
the mug out of Pancras’s hands. “My apologies. We find it’s a good way to start
a cold day, but I expect minotaurs… well…” The color drained out of Vasily’s
face, and he glanced about, as if planning an escape.
    “It’s all right, an honest
mistake.” Pancras clapped Vasily on the shoulder. “Do you have any mulled wine?
Cider? Anything like that?”
    Vasily sipped from the mug he’d
taken from Pancras. “Yes, I’m sure someone does. I will find some for you.” He
ran off, leaving Pancras with Edric and the draks.
    “What’s the plan for today?”
Edric sat at the fireside. “Leave these tinkers behind as soon as possible?”
    “Yes, we must continue our
journey to Muncifer. We can brook no delay.” Pancras nudged the draks with his
foot. “Up you get! We must get going. Sleep in the saddle.”
    The return of the shadow in his
dreams worried Pancras. He did not know to whom the shriveled visage belonged,
but he was certain it was not that of Aita. The Princess of the Underworld
never appeared as a desiccated woman; she either appeared as a bare skull or a
dark-haired beauty. Not that Pancras had ever had a visitation from the goddess
of death. If the shadow and its mistress were malevolent in any way, Pancras
wanted to ensure no innocents were within their grasp.
    Despite their groans of protest,
the draks pulled themselves together. By the time Vasily returned with a carafe
of steaming cider, they were breaking their fast together with Magda. Pancras
handed Vasily a handful of silver talons for their hospitality.
    “This should cover everything,
including that sheep you fed to our lizards this morning.”
    Vasily counted the coins with a
smile on his face. “You’re too generous. This is far more than that stringy
mutton was worth.”
    Pancras nodded and patted the
man’s shoulder. “Keep it. Share it with the others. May Cybele watch over your
fields.”
     
    * * *
     
    To Delilah’s relief, they
encountered no other travelers or settlements after leaving the tinkers and
farmers behind. As the weeks passed, the sun traversed lazily in its heavenly
track during the day, bringing the warmth of spring, though winter’s chill
remained in the evenings. Her only regret was that she couldn’t study her
grimoire while riding Fang; the book was too heavy to hold with one hand, and
it required too much of her concentration.
    The rolling plains of Etrunia
grew rockier the farther south they traveled until groves of evergreens dotted
the hills. The mountains dominated the western horizon, like a great wall
keeping the rest of the world at bay. The rushing waters of the Icymist River
awaited them at the bottom of a valley.
    Pancras raised his hand and
halted their progress. “We have to find a ford. Once we cross, the trade road
from Almeria should be over the next ridge. We follow that, turn toward the mountains,
and arrive in Muncifer within a day.”
    Hopefully . Delilah
didn’t trust the navigation skills of someone who professed he hated travel to
give them an exact estimate, but she figured he was probably accurate to within
a few days.
    “We have to cross that?” Edric
pointed at the river. “Don’t you surfacers believe in bridges?”
    “Who are you calling a surfacer?”
Delilah scowled at the dwarf. “Kali’s the only one that doesn’t live in
Drak-Anor, under a mountain, you hairy—”
    Pancras silenced Delilah with a glare.
“There is a bridge. Probably a week’s travel to the west where the trade road
crosses the river.” He looked up into the sky. The clear blue gave way to dusky
rose in the west where the sun was setting. “Tinian’s Eye has been gone a week
at least. The Plow will be rising soon. I don’t doubt the stars of