Salvation (Scars of the Sundering Book 3) by Hans Cummings

Author:Hans Cummings [Cummings, Hans]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: adventure, Homosexual Protagonist, Responsibility, Fantasy
ISBN: 9781944999049
Publisher: VFF Publishing
Published: 2017-07-13T18:30:00+00:00

***

When Pancras returned to Vlorey, it was business as usual in the city. He altered his route to the Arcane University to pass the gates to the necropolis, but he saw nothing amiss. He found the four guards stationed outside the gates to be curious, though. Who are they keeping out. Or in? Their expressions did not invite casual conversation, so he passed them and headed to the university.

The day’s lessons progressed, and he found his pupils to be eager learners. After a few minutes of basic alchemical theory, he determined his students’ proficiency and moved on to more advanced brewing and distilling techniques.

Pupils in his afternoon class proved to be equally astute, and he ended the day energized to create a lesson plan to challenge them all. After dinner, Pancras retired to the office he shared with the headmaster.

The tolling of the university’s bell interrupted the minotaur’s concentration as he perused the next day’s agenda. Another bell from outside the university joined it and then another. Within minutes, it sounded as though all the bells in the city were ringing.

“Headmaster. Headmaster!” Pancras tried to gain the old man’s attention but to no avail. He rapped his knuckles on the top of his desk. The headmaster grunted, stood, and shuffled over to Pancras.

Headmaster Lewin stifled a yawn. “Yes, what is it?”

“The bells? For whom do they toll?”

The headmaster listened. “Hm. Sounds like all of them, doesn’t it?”

“It certainly does.” The minotaur glanced out of the nearby window. Night had fallen across Vlorey. Starlight joined what light escaped through the windows and from around the shutters, insufficient to pierce the shroud of darkness night brought to the city. Flickering points of light moved below; torches carried by patrolling guards.

“Either the king has died, which considering his relative youth and health is unlikely, or it is again a Night of Exodus. How do the King and Queen appear?”

Pancras stepped over to the window. Usually, he viewed Calliome’s moons from the chancery windows.

“I cannot see them at all. There are only stars. Double-dark, like last night.”

“Oh yes, that’s right. I retired early last night. Is it that time again?”

Headmaster Lewin joined the minotaur at the window. The human’s head stood even with the minotaur’s chest, and he craned his neck to eye Pancras. “Double-dark. Definitely a Night of Exodus.”

“I’m not familiar with that celebration.” The minotaur rubbed his right horn as he scanned across the university grounds.

The old man wheezed and coughed. “It’s not a celebration. Some time ago”—he scratched the patch of scruffy whiskers on his chin—“six lunar cycles? Perhaps seven? The dead started leaving the necropolis. Now, that was on the first double-dark night when the unrest began. Guards tried to stop them the first few times, but they would not be deterred. By their second failure, the Council of Lords chose to sound an alarm across the city on double-dark nights ordering all citizens to vacate the streets and allow the dead to exit unfettered.”

Pancras reached for Shatterskull, hanging at his waist.

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