The Lost Tower

by Eric Martinez

  If her suspicions were correct, someone on the Council or someone close to the Council was feeding the warlocks information. News of Sephi’s return would have reached the Council by now, which meant the Occultum would know too.

  She wasn’t sure how they could get into the Cradle, but the mountains were riddled with secret tunnels. Sephi had used a few herself. If the Occultum knew of some of them, they could have sneaked in undetected.

  She was willing to take his word on that, but her trust extended no further. Bringing him along to the tower was a bad idea, but what choice did she have? They could subdue him, but that would just ensure he was their enemy, and they couldn’t just leave him here, allowing him to follow and attack them later. And she refused to kill him in cold blood.

  She sighed. “Let us bind your wrists and we’ll take you along.”

  Moros appeared to consider it. “I’d prefer if you didn’t, but if it will prove that I’m on your side, I’ll do it.”

  Sephi nodded at Magnus, and he raised his hands to summon magical shackles. He sketched the symbols in the air and spoke the words. The glowing violet manacles appeared around Moros’s wrists, but then they fell apart. The spell seemed to unravel, disintegrating back into the separate arcane symbols that had summoned it in the first place.

  “What the hell?” Sephi asked.

  Moros smiled. “I told you. Magic doesn’t work on me. My people are immune. Does anyone have some rope or something?”

  Sephi scowled as she fished a length of iron chain from her pack. As she wrapped the chains around Moros’s wrists, she looked into his golden eyes. “I have a lot of questions for you.”

  He nodded. “And I will gladly answer them all once we get moving.”

  Chapter 18

  They made their way through the dimly lit caverns with Moros in the lead. Not because he knew the way but so that everyone could keep an eye on him. As they walked, Sephi pulled Magnus’s arm, slowing his pace down until they trailed far behind the others.

  “Thanks for playing it cool back there and following my lead,” she said.

  Magnus nodded. “I’ve come to trust you, despite my better judgment, but you know damn well I won’t let you give the Whispers to this creature.”

  “I know, and we won’t. We’re taking the Whispers back to the Council. I swear upon my parents that’s the truth.”

  “A heavy oath,” he said. “I believe you. But what’s all this talk about hiring the outlaw Bobby Candle to find the Whispers?”

  She quickly explained Bobby’s job offer and how she had pretended to accept it before they left on their journey. She had thought the Occultum was behind the job, and she figured by pretending to accept it, it would keep the dark mages off their backs. She’d been wrong.

  “If you thought the Occultum was after the Whispers, you should have told me,” he said when she was finished.

  She shrugged. “You already knew the warlocks wanted the Whispers. I didn’t think this extra detail mattered. And it didn’t until now.” She looked ahead at Moros, who moved gracefully over the uneven path. “Have you ever heard of such a thing as a Nyx?”

  “No,” Magnus said.

  “That’s weird, right? I thought we knew of every living creature in Esper. There’s nothing about the Nyx in any of the books in the library.”

  Magnus nodded. “The absence of information is troubling, especially since they are apparently immune to our powers.”

  “Right? You’d think the Council would want all of us to know about a race of beings who unravel magic.”

  He let out a heavy breath. “Or it’s just the opposite. The Council may have wanted to keep their existence hidden for some reason.”

  “Well, that does sound like something they would do,” she said. “I’m surprised to hear you suggest that, though. Are you starting to see the Council’s imperfections? Am I rubbing off on you?”

  He looked annoyed. “The more I see of their secrets, the less I trust their judgment.”

  “There may be some hope for you after all,” she said. “Now, how about we go get some answers out of this guy?”

  “I’d like that,” Magnus said. “It’s good to know your enemy.”

  “Well, he’s not our enemy,” she said.

  Magnus frowned. “Not yet. But once he finds out we’re not on the same side, he will be.”

  Sephi and Magnus quickened their strides until they caught up with the group. The Nyx was still in front, and Sephi moved to walk beside him.

  He glanced at her. “Welcome back, Persephone Blue. Are you done talking about me in private?”

  Sephi’s heart beat faster, thinking he had heard her conversation with Magnus. Then she quickly discarded the idea. Simple common sense would allow him to conclude that they were discussing him out of earshot.

  She forced a confident grin. “Yes, and now it’s time to talk about you out in the open. Where are you from? Why haven’t I ever heard of your people?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, still walking along the path. “The mages certainly know of my people. At least, some of you do because you’ve been hunting us down and murdering us for millennia.”

  “Excuse me?” she asked. “That can’t be true.”

  “Oh, it is,” he said firmly. “My people have been in hiding for a long time now. Moving from place to place, never able to plant roots because when we did, the Citadel’s mages would swoop down and try to eradicate us. Men, women, children. We are all fair game to your kind.”

  “Duskwood,” Francisco said suddenly. “Did your people ever live there?”

  Moros nodded. “That was many generations before my time, but our elders still tell stories of the Duskwood massacre.”

  Sephi remembered the site of the ancient battle where Francisco reanimated horned skeletons like Moros. Those dead Nyx supported Moros’s story. “We’ve been to the site of that battle,” she said.

  “Not a battle,” Moros said bitterly. “A slaughter. One of the darkest days in my people’s history.”

  Sephi shook her head in confusion. “I don’t understand. Why would mages want to kill your people? I’m a mage, and I’ve never even heard of you.”

  Moros kept his eyes trained forward, not looking at her. “As to why you don’t know of my people, I cannot say. As to my people’s genocide, we were cursed by the circumstances of our birth. As if we had any control over our creation.”

  “Creation?” she asked. “Like, someone made you?”

  He nodded. “Hextius Black, the darkest of Zekariah’s twelve disciples. He conducted vile experiments in the tower, filling its walls with the screams of his victims. Countless humans perished as he failed, resulting in mutated abominations like the world has never seen. And then he created us, the Nyx.”

  “Why?” Echo asked. “Why go through all that trouble to create a new race of creature?”

  Moros shot her a hard look. “The same reason Zekariah created your people. The mages were created for war, bred to aid the First Mage in conquering Esper. When his own children turned against him in rebellion, Zekariah needed new soldiers to fight the mages. So Hextius gave him us, birthing us from the vilest magic.”

  Sephi nodded. “So they made you to be immune to magic.”

  “Exactly,” Moros said. “The mages’ most powerful strength could not harm us, making us the perfect soldiers to quash the rebellion.”

  “Is that why mages have hunted the Nyx down?” Sephi asked. “Because you fought against us during the rebellion?”

  “No,” Moros said. “We never fought in that war. The First Mage was defeated before our people had sufficient numbers to fight. But even after Zekariah fell, Hextius Black and some of the other disciples remained in the tower, creating more of us, improving on our design, so that one day they would be able to take the Cradle back from the rebels.”

  “But that never happened,” Magnus said. “After the First Mage fell, no other large-scale battles were fought. Some of Zekariah’s disci
ples started the Occultum, but they’ve never brought an army to bear on the cradle.”

  Moros held his head up proudly. “They never got a chance to use us for their evil ends. Like you mages, we rose up against our creator, breaking the shackles of our servitude to live life on our own terms. Despite our similarities to your own kind, the mages couldn’t see past the sins of our father. The Nyx are not evil, but evil created us. For that, my people had to die, it seems.”

  “This is insane,” Sephi said. “I can’t believe our people would do that to yours.”

  “Really?” Moros asked.

  “Well, I mean, I can, but I guess I just don’t want to believe it,” she said. “So how did your people survive?”

  “We went into hiding, finally finding peace in the far reaches of Tartarus, where few mages dare to go,” he said.

  “Wow, that sucks,” Sephi said. “Tartarus is a dump. No offense.”

  He shrugged. “When you want to hide from mages, you go to the one place they never go. And yes, existence is difficult, but like iron in a crucible, the land has forged my people into something stronger and better so that we’ll never be unprepared for an attack on us again.”

  “Wait,” Sephi said. “That’s not why you want the Whispers, is it? To exact some kind of revenge on the Cradle?”

  “No,” he said. “We can’t use magic of any kind. The Whispers hold the secret to controlling the Nyx, and we don’t want it to fall into the hands of our enemies. Claiming the Whispers for ourselves is the only way to ensure we’ll never be enslaved again.”

  Sephi chewed on what the Nyx had said. If it was all true, then the journey had gotten harder. How could she turn the Whispers over to the Council and put this undeserving race at the hands of their mercy? It wasn’t fair. But did she really have a choice?

  They continued through the caverns for hours until finally, they saw light at the end of the tunnel. Sephi’s eyes slowly adjusted to the brightening surroundings, but when they emerged from the mouth of a cave under Tartarus’s perpetually gray skies, she narrowed her eyes at the harsh light.

  Ahead of them, a charcoal-gray tower spiraled up from the dusty ground. Its stone walls twisted around in an unnatural shape, as if the building itself writhed in pain, reflecting the agony of the unfortunate souls who’d been brought there ages ago.

  Above it, a black orb hung like an eclipsed sun, ringed by a fiery white corona as if gathering the living energy from the surrounding land to fuel the infernal arts inside. Nothing good awaited Sephi behind those walls.

  She glanced behind her at the Janus Mountains, feeling an intense sensation of familiarity. “I’ve been here before.”

  “At the tower?” Magnus asked. “Impossible.”

  “Well, not here at the tower, but I’ve been here in Tartarus.” She surveyed their surroundings, and her eye caught sight of an enormous bird skeleton. “Echo, look! Right there.”

  Sephi ran toward the stormbird bones to confirm her suspicions, and she collided with an invisible barrier. The force of the impact knocked the air from her lungs and sent her sprawling on her ass. She curled up and clutched her chest.

  “Ow, my tit,” she groaned. “I think I broke my tit.”

  The others rushed over to her side.

  Echo knelt by her. “What happened?”

  “Invisible wall,” Sephi said through gasping breaths.

  Magnus probed at the air with his hand like a blind man until his fingers pressed against the barrier. “It’s solid.”

  “No shit, dude.” Sephi glanced up and narrowed her eyes at him.

  Moros followed suit, but when his hand touched the wall, a sizzling sound filled the air, and black smoke curled up from his fingertips. He snatched his hand back.

  “Magic,” he said, making it sound like a curse word.

  Magnus looked at the Nyx’s blackened fingers. “I thought your kind were immune to magic.”

  Moros shook his head, his face contorted with pain. “Not the First Magic. Hextius Black wouldn’t make slaves Zekariah couldn’t control.”

  Sephi sat up, still catching her breath. “Obviously, this place is shielded from the outside. Echo and I were here like a week ago—on the other side of the barrier—and we never saw any of this.”

  Francisco stroked his beard thoughtfully. “It would appear there’s only one way in.”

  “And only one way out,” Magnus said. “How are we supposed to slip past the warlocks once we retrieve the Whispers?”

  Sephi shook her head. “We can worry about that once we get the damn thing. With any luck, we’ll all be dead before then.”

  “Not funny,” Echo said flatly.

  Sephi sighed. “Yeah, well, blame it on my injury.”

  “If you’re hurt, I can heal you,” Francisco said.

  “Keep your hands off the girls, you dirty old necromancer.”

  Francisco’s face flushed scarlet. “I didn’t mean—that wasn’t—”

  “Relax,” Sephi said, getting to her feet. “I’m just kidding.”

  “Well, at least one of us is having fun,” Magnus said.

  I bet I’m not the only one.

  She opened her mind to the Heretic’s voice. The Black Soul roared with mirth.

  There’s the crazy old warlock I’ve come to know and dislike. I guess you’re excited about seeing the tower?

  Yes, but my currently jovial disposition stems from seeing you smash into an invisible wall like a bird against a window.

  She frowned. Well, I’m glad my pain amuses you.

  Oh, it does. Thank you. If I had clothes and a cock, I would have pissed my pants with laughter. I mean, the look on your face alone—

  All right, I get it. Listen, we’re about to enter the tower. Any idea what to expect in there?

  A final test.

  Well, I hope it’s not a spelling test because I’ve never been great at that.

  It’s a test of power. A final trial to ensure that whoever finds the tower is worthy of its secrets.

  Do you know what that means specifically?

  No. I believe the artifact was intentionally vague so seekers of the tower couldn’t prepare. Either you’re strong enough or you’re not.

  Well, we’ve faced off against some overwhelming odds on this journey. I have confidence in my team.

  You’re forgetting one thing, nitwit. You’re in Tartarus now. Your so-called team’s magic is weak here, practically non-existent.

  Shit. Good point. Then how is anyone supposed to pass this test of strength?

  Not anyone. A warlock of sufficient power can pass. Blood magic works just fine here. It doesn’t draw power from the energy of the land like regular magic.

  Speaking of which, do you know why regular magic doesn’t work in Tartarus?

  Because the First Mage drained the energy of this land to create his perfect kingdom in the Cradle. He pulled so much energy, he left a permanent scar on the land, and Tartarus has never been able to recover. That’s the theory, anyway.

  Is there any way around that so our magic can work properly?

  Yes, use dark magic.

  I refuse to do that.

  Well, then I’ll keep my nonexistent fingers crossed.

  Aww, you’re hoping I pass the test?

  I’m hoping that after you die, I’ll be able to take over your body. I think it’s possible. You see—

  Okay, enough of that. Sephi blocked the Heretic’s voice and turned to her friends.

  “Are you done talking to your knife?” Echo asked.

  Sephi narrowed her eyes. “Was it that obvious?”

  Echo shrugged. “You were standing there staring at nothing, looking like you were sucking on a lemon. So, yes, it was obvious. What did he say?”

  “Well, it’s a good news, bad news situation,” Sephi said. “The good news is that we’ve got one more hurdle before we reach the Whispers. The bad news is that we have to pass a test of strength first.”

  “So, a fight?” Magnus
asked. “We can handle that.”

  Sephi shook her head. “Not if your magic doesn’t work.”

  He frowned. “Tartarus. Shit.”

  “Yeah,” she said, nodding. “Fucking Tartarus. My magic works here for some reason, but illusion won’t do much in a test of strength. I could probably sneak past any threat, but I can’t make all of us invisible if we’re walking.” She paused to let out a heavy breath. “So I should go in alone.”

  Echo scowled. “Fuck that noise. We’re all going.”

  Francisco nodded. “You can’t be sure you can sneak past the test. If we have to fight, we’ll have more chance of success together.”

  Magnus gripped his sword hilt. “And magic or no, my blade is just as sharp.”

  Sephi swallowed hard, choking back the emotion swelling in her chest. “Guys, I appreciate the offer, but this isn’t like anything we’ve faced before. I can’t ask you to come in there with me.”

  “You’re not asking,” Echo said. “I’m choosing to go. Besides, you can’t go in there without your sidekick.”

  Sephi blinked away the tears that threatened to fall. “You’re nobody’s’ sidekick.”

  Echo shrugged. “I am today.”

  “And I’ll stand by you until the end,” Magnus said.

  “Till the very end,” Francisco said.

  Moros looked around at everyone. “I don’t know about all that, but you’re not leaving me behind. The Occultum could show up any minute now, and I’m not going to be standing here alone when they do. Plus, you might find me useful when it comes to a test of strength.” The goatman yanked his wrists apart, shattering the chains binding him.

  Sephi gaped at him. “You could have done that at any time?”

  The Nyx smiled. “Yeah, well, I figured everyone would be more comfortable if I left them on.”

  Sephi nodded, then met the gaze of each of her friends individually. “Okay, I guess we’re all going in. Watch each other’s backs in there. No noble sacrifices. Nobody play the hero. We walk in together, and we walk out together.”