The Sunken Tower

by James E. Wisher

  The cedar and cypress trees grew thick on the swamp island. Moz felt like he was forcing his way through a jungle. Heavy vines tried to wrap around his arms and neck. Moz shoved them aside and kept crawling. At the very least, he figured he wouldn’t run into any patrols in here. Someone could pass fifteen feet in front of him and neither would know it.

  After he knew not how long, the jungle began to thin. This was where things became more dangerous. He moved slowly, using the mossy trunks of cedars for cover. Moz had yet to see any soldiers, but they had to be in the area.

  Thirty yards further on, he heard boots shuffling through the debris on the forest floor.

  He froze instantly.

  A moment later, four armed soldiers marched past. They were quiet but didn’t seem particularly on guard. Moz had feared that one of the thugs from the village might have come out here to warn his friends. If one of them had, this group hadn’t got the message.

  When they had passed, Moz continued on his way. He didn’t encounter anyone else for perhaps another quarter of a mile, when suddenly the jungle opened up, revealing a large clearing. Twenty-plus tents had been erected around a sinkhole big enough to swallow the entire town of Gator Alley. This had to be the spot marked on his map.

  Moz dropped to his stomach and crawled closer. Dozens of people were moving around. Most of them looked like soldiers, but a few were dressed in green robes. Those had to be the leaders.

  Silently cursing his lack of a spyglass, Moz squinted in a vain attempt to get a better look at the leaders. The little he could make out was that they were mostly older men, carried no weapons beyond ornamental staves, and were all deferred to by the soldiers. Whoever they were, they must’ve paid well to get mercenaries to show that much respect.

  Moz watched the camp for half an hour before it became clear there was nothing more to see. He badly wanted to get closer, but given the number of soldiers, it was too risky. It was time to make himself scarce. If he wanted answers, the easiest place to get them would be from one of the thugs back in the village. He doubted any of them had the spine to stand up to a firmly put question.

  He crawled backwards until the camp was out of sight, got to his feet, and began retracing his steps to his skiff. The thick jungle was just as nasty on the way out as it was on the way in. It didn’t bother him so much since his mind was busy mulling over everything he’d seen. Which wasn’t much honestly. He still had no idea why everyone was so interested in this location. When he got back, he’d have to have another talk with Cork. It was possible the young man left something out of his earlier story, he’d been pretty shaken after the murders and everything.

  The little dragon was still perched on the prow of the skiff when Moz arrived. It hissed a greeting as he climbed in before returning to the bottom of the boat. Moz smiled and grabbed the pole out of the bottom of the skiff. The channel was too narrow to turn around, so he was forced to push himself backwards to the main part of the swamp. It was awkward since the boat wasn’t made to work that way but after a bit of grunting and swearing, he reached the opening. There were no patrols in view in either direction, so he set out across the open channel.

  Halfway to safety, a shout rang out. “Hey, you there, stop!”

  Cursing his luck, Moz turned to find one of the jon boats just coming around the bend. One more minute and he would have been out of sight and safe.

  There was nothing for it now. He poled as hard and fast as he could to get clear of the channel. His skiff wasn’t especially fast, and the group pursuing him had two rowers.

  They gained quickly.

  Moz wasn’t going to make it before they got in crossbow range.

  “This is your last warning,” one of the soldiers in the jon boat shouted. “Stop now or we will open fire.”

  At this range they wouldn’t miss either. Moz dropped the pole in his skiff and raised his hands.

  The jon boat paddled up and bumped into his skiff. The crossbowmen held their weapons on him while one of the rowers stood and looked him all over. The man couldn’t have been over thirty. His scale armor was well tended as was the curved short sword at his waist. He wore no insignia that might give Moz a clue to his identity.

  When the soldier finished his inspection he said, “You people were warned to stay away from this area. Did Borus not deliver the message?”

  “Who?” Moz asked.

  “Large fellow, carries a big sword. He’s running your dingy little town now.”

  “Oh, the arrogant, mouthy guy. Sure, he said something about it, but I took it as more of a suggestion than an order. You should know, people around here don’t take orders very well.”

  “Maybe when we send your head back the rest of your fellow hunters will understand their situation a little better.”

  Moz forced himself to remain at ease. “Maybe.”

  The hummingbird dragon chose that moment to crawl up on the edge of the skiff and hiss.

  The crossbowmen looked away for a fraction of a second.

  It was all the opening Moz needed.

  He slapped one of the crossbows aside.

  The soldier holding it was so surprised he fired, right into the stomach of the second crossbowman.

  Moz drew his swords and cut down the man who fired in the same motion, sending him splashing into the water.

  His back cut took the still-seated rower in the side of the neck, sending a geyser of blood shooting skyward.

  The spokesman was so taken aback he hadn’t even drawn his weapon. Moz gave him no chance to fix his error.

  He punched the man in the face with his right pommel, stunning him long enough for Moz to grab his sword and toss it away. That done he sheathed one of his swords, grabbed the soldier by the collar, and jerked him close.

  “Who are you and who are you working for?”

  The prisoner remained silent.

  Moz put the edge of his sword to the man’s neck. “Talk.”

  “My life for the Great Ones.” The soldier pushed forward and yanked his head to the side, cutting his own throat.

  Moz let him fall into the water. He didn’t get much information, but he did learn one important thing. He was dealing with fanatics.

  Chapter 3

  Rondo once again found himself flying across the country in the battered ship. Its basic structure was still sound, though they hadn’t had time to replace the broken mast. It was so dark and overcast he could barely see the brown and green blotches of the swamp passing below them. He assumed that Umbra was using some sort of magic from his position at the helm to allow him to figure out where they were going.

  It seemed strange, having just the three of them aboard. Previously when they traveled, they brought a couple dozen mercenaries. Lord Black had lost a number of his soldiers on the last mission and since they expected no combat during this trip, he had ordered them to go on their own. Rondo was hardly a commander, but having a bunch of soldiers nearby made him feel more confident. At least they shouldn’t run into any dragons on this trip.

  Hopefully.

  “You finally impressed the boss.” Rondo nearly jumped out of his boots when Shade spoke right beside him.

  “Could you please make at least a little noise? You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days.”

  “I can’t help myself, moving silently is a habit.” Shade grinned. “The look on Domina’s face when the boss praised your idea was priceless. I thought her head was going to explode.”

  “I just hope she doesn’t hold it against me,” Rondo said. “Besides, if this turns out to be a waste of time, the goodwill I earned is liable to quickly evaporate.”

  Shade shrugged. “We’ll just have to make sure it doesn’t turn out to be a waste of time then, won’t we?”

  “The compound is directly below us,” Umbra said. “Prepare to begin the search.”

  Shade stuck his tongue out at the wizard who let out a disgusted sigh. Umbra lowered them down through the clouds. They landed ge
ntly on the dock in front of the farm. It was the exact spot where Rondo first arrived all those months ago. It looked just the same as he remembered. If anyone had been here, they left no signs, at least no signs visible to him.

  Shade led the way up a well-worn path to the farm itself. To their right, a horrible, rotten stench emerged from the barn. Rondo assumed it was from the dead turtles decaying in their pens, but he had no desire to go and confirm this theory. The three of them headed directly to the two-story farmhouse.

  The mother’s body was gone. Clearly someone had come at some point to bury her. He assumed the father would’ve gotten similar treatment. But if that was true, why hadn’t whoever done it carried away the turtles? Certainly, they could have been sold at the very least for a few scales. It didn’t seem like the people around here were so rich they’d leave them behind to rot.

  He shrugged and followed Shade into the farmhouse. Whatever happened here was irrelevant to their mission. When he came earlier, Rondo never made it inside the house. It was quite nice, though covered in dust. Straight ahead was a dining room and to the right the kitchen sat cold and empty. If there was any information to be found, Rondo suspected it would either be in a bedroom or closet.

  “I’ll start upstairs,” Rondo said.

  When no one objected he climbed the narrow, steep steps to the second floor. At the top a hall ran left and right. There were two doors on either side. The first he checked held a child’s bed and a small chest. It wasn’t much bigger than some of the closets at his parents’ home. Inside the chest were a change of clothes and bedding. He kicked the chest aside and found nothing under it. The mattress got the same treatment and delivered similar results.

  He moved on to the next room, this one an actual closet filled with the family’s winter clothes and smelling of shaved cedar. Rondo tore it apart, checking every pocket and tapping on the walls in hopes of finding a hidden compartment. Yet again he came up empty.

  Though he’d only checked two rooms, his stomach was churning. If this didn’t work out, Lord Black was going to kill him. Or worse, let Domina do it. He moved on to what he assumed was the parents’ bedroom. He flipped the mattress and found nothing. His last hope was an end table on the right side of the bed. He reached for the drawer handle with a trembling hand.

  “Downstairs is a bust!” Shade shouted. “Find anything up there?”

  “Not yet, but I’m not finished looking!”

  Rondo reached for the drawer again. Please, gods, please, let there be something useful.

  He pulled it open and found a dog-eared, much-worn book. It was probably the most valuable thing in the house. But it wasn’t a clue.

  Rondo hurled it across the room. The book slammed into the wall and a single sheet of paper fluttered out. For a moment he thought it was just a page that fell out of the binding then he noticed it was folded in half. He rushed over, scooped it up, and unfolded it.

  “Congratulations on adopting Ariel.”

  His heart skipped a beat. This was it, the adoption papers. The letter was short, wishing them many years of happiness. At the bottom it was signed, Freya, Mistress of Our Lady of Gentleness Orphanage.

  Rondo blew out a long breath. His execution had been stayed, at least for a little while.

  Our Lady of Gentleness Orphanage turned out to be simple enough to find. Shade had asked at a nearby village and gotten directions right to it. They all agreed that avoiding Gator Alley, the village where Rondo first encountered the ranger Moz, was for the best. It wasn’t so much that Shade feared anyone there might interfere with his mission so much as it was that any delay would be a nuisance to the boss and that had to be avoided at all costs. Especially given his mood lately.

  Rondo was standing alone in the front of the ship as they made the final approach to the orphanage. Jax was currently looking for a good place out of sight to set Shade down, so he probably had a few minutes. Shade couldn’t have said why he’d taken a liking to the man – Rondo had no particularly redeeming features – but he had all the same.

  He stomped twice as he approached Rondo. The nervous little man turned and offered him a faint smile. “Thanks for the warning.”

  Shade grinned back. “I thought you’d like that. You know, you seem more… comfortable with this assignment than anything we’ve done so far.”

  “Of course, this is what I thought I was going to be doing when I joined the Dark Sages. Hunting down clues, finding lost secrets, you know, normal things, not helping take over the world.”

  Shade laughed. “Guess it was just bad luck you got accepted into the most ambitious cadre of the group. On the plus side, if we succeed, it’s going to be the only cadre left, so there’s that. You have to admit, the past few months have been exciting.”

  “I certainly wouldn’t deny that, in fact they’ve been far too exciting for my taste. I’m a scholar, dammit, not an assassin, or a warrior, or a wizard. I belong in a library deciphering ancient texts, not out trying to kidnap people or kill dragons.”

  Shade couldn’t argue with his reasoning. If there was ever a person not suited to his current position, it was Rondo. Still, he’d turned out to be useful on more than one occasion. And having him around really seemed to annoy Domina, so that was a plus, at least to Shade.

  “You’re doing fine,” Shade said. “Assuming we can get this last mystery solved, I’d say we’re well on our way to finishing the mission.”

  “Shade,” Jax said. “Are you ready?”

  Shade clapped Rondo on the shoulder and said, “All set.”

  The next thing he knew, Shade found himself floating up and over the railing to descend slowly earthward. He’d done this so many times he no longer even thought about what might happen if Jax lost his focus. What was interesting was how different everyone’s grip, for lack of a better word, felt. Jax felt like he wrapped your entire body in a cocoon of invisible energy. Domina’s felt more like a rope under your armpits. And the boss’s felt like the hand of a god lowering you to the ground all the while debating if it should squeeze you into pulp.

  He reached the treetops and set his musings aside. He had business to take care of. Lucky for him, the individual that ran the orphanage was a woman. Women liked him, always had. The boss assured him it wasn’t magic and whatever gift he had, Domina appeared immune. Hopefully whoever he had to convince didn’t share her immunity.

  His feet touched pine straw and the cocoon vanished. He was on his own now. A short stroll through the forest brought him out to a rough dirt road. They had ended up south of the village where the orphanage waited. Shade set out at a brisk pace and arrived half an hour later. It wasn’t much of a village. Just a collection of single-story houses gathered around a central well. The orphanage had a sign out front with a sleeping baby on it.

  There were no people out and about, which was strange. He had no idea what the locals did so for all he knew they were busy working. As long as the lady running the orphanage was in, he couldn’t care less about the rest.

  He pushed the door open and stepped into chaos. Two little boys ran screaming past him. Somewhere deeper inside, another kid wailed his lungs out. From behind a door to his right came the raised voice of an adult. Shade couldn’t make out the words, but the tone was enough to make him want to reach for his daggers. How could anyone come to a place like this and think I want to take one of these home with me?

  Like an island in a sea of madness, a single table with a woman about fifty behind it beckoned to him. Shade let out a long breath and crossed the room. The woman looked up as he approached and smiled with the kindest expression he’d ever seen. He instantly wanted to kill anyone that had ever done anything to bother her.

  “You’re not here to adopt,” she said the moment he reached the table.

  “Is it that obvious?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I’m Freya, how can I help you?”

  “I’m trying to track down the parents of a girl that was adopted from this orphanage ab
out five or six years ago. Her name is Ariel, blond hair, a little small for her age. She had yellow eyes with vertical slits.”

  “Oh, yes, the dragon girl. She wasn’t one I’ll ever forget. All my little ones are special, but she was extraordinary. Hardly spoke a word to anyone once she got older. First kid to ever show up with tiny dragons sleeping in her bassinet.” Freya shook her head as if experiencing it again for the first time.

  “That’s her. Do you know who brought her here?”

  “I’m sorry.” Freya sounded like she actually was. “I found her on our doorstep sound asleep in a basket with her dragons on either side of her. I’m afraid she could have come from anywhere. It’s not unusual for a frightened mother to drop her baby off in the night when no one’s around. Happens more than I like to think about.”

  Shade nodded, keeping his disappointment well hidden. It had been a long shot anyway.

  “Thank you for speaking with me.” He placed three gold scales on the table. It was probably more money than she’d ever seen at once. “Please accept this small donation to help out with the kids.”

  He offered a shallow bow and left the orphanage. He took his time walking back to the ship, racking his brain for another avenue of approach. There had to be some other way to figure out where Ariel came from. By the time he came over the ship’s rail he still hadn’t come up with anything.

  The group gathered in Jax’s stateroom to discuss options before contacting the boss. No one, not even Jax who was as close to a real friend as the boss had, wanted to deliver the bad news.

  “You’re sure she wasn’t hiding anything?” Jax asked when Shade finished recounting his discussion with Freya.