As they approached the tower, it became visible more often through the tangle of leafless bushes above them, and Owen crouched lower and slowed their pace even more. As the gully became shallower, they began to crawl forward, trying to use the bushes for cover as much as possible. They still could not be seen from the base of the tower, but from its top, they were occasionally dependent upon the deep shadows to conceal them from a watcher who might just happen to be looking in the right direction.
Finally, as the gully petered out, Owen signaled a halt, and they silently crawled in under the bushes as tightly as they could. Marian caught a curse before it left her lips, and raised her left thumb to her mouth to suck on a wound from a Devil’s Thorn. The lip of the moon was barely above the mountains, and had moved far enough around the tower to provide a little light of the area where the gorn had camped. Owen could just make out two dark shapes near the base of the tower, which stood about 60 paces away. Their campfire had gone out.
Huddled against the cold of the clear autumn sky, the trio waited for sufficient light to accurately mark their targets. In the east, the sky was just beginning to lighten.
As the light slowly grew with the coming dawn, Owen could gradually begin to see the gorn more clearly. One of them was using a thin tattered blanket, while the other slept without any covering. ‘This must be mild conditions, compared to their mountain home,’ Owen thought, shivering.
When he thought that there was just enough light to make an accurate shot, Owen pulled his comrades together and whispered in their ears. “I can’t get a killing shot while they’re huddled on the ground. Marian, when I’m ready, use your sling to wake the gorn closest to us. Don’t be gentle, and afterward keep your eyes on the tower. Jack, you back up my shot, but hold your arrow for the further gorn in case they both wake at once.”
The boys carefully eased their way out from under the bushes, trying to avoid catching their cloaks in the thorns, and keeping one eye on the top of the tower.
Owen left his staff lying at his feet, took a solid stance, and took his bow off of his shoulder. He carefully placed two broad headed arrows in easy reach sticking up in the sand at his feet, and nocked a third. Jack took a similar position to his right. Silently, Owen drew the bowstring to his cheek. He took a deep relaxing breath and nodded to Marian.
Marian had prepared her sling with a heavy stone, and at Owen’s signal she swung it twice around her head and let fly. It sped across the distance and hit the gorn hard on the hip. Startled, he sat up with a curse, and immediately spotted his attackers.
The gorn seemed to have no neck, but above the center of the ribcage, where a neck should be, there was a shallow indentation; Owen marked this as his target. Completely relaxed, Owen allowed the arrow to release. Almost no time had elapsed since the gorn had risen, but with his drawing of the arrow and selection of the target, time stopped being a factor. Owen was easily able to follow the flight of the arrow despite the dim light as it cleaved the air and settled deeply with a hollow thunk precisely where it was intended. The gorn crashed back, thrashed and gurgled on the ground for a moment, then lay still.
The second gorn rose right behind his partner, snatched up a huge club, and was charging the boys by the time the first gorn hit the ground. Jack was surprised at the speed of the onrushing gorn, but managed to place a cloth yard of heavy shaft in the gorn’s chest, just right of center. The gorn faltered for a moment, then with a bellow resumed his rush.
Surprised that the gorn had not fallen, both Owen and Jack reached quickly for their second arrow. Owen was a heartbeat ahead, drew and sent his shaft right through the gorn’s left eye. The gorn crumpled and collapsed, sliding on the ground a mere eleven paces from where Owen stood.
Just then, Marian shouted: “Top of the tower!” and let fly with a second stone that she had been swinging.
Jack pulled his bow up and around, and snapped a shot at the head of a gorn who was leaning over and looking down at them from between the crenellation at the top of the tower. The gorn jerked back out of sight, and both rock and arrow skipped off of the stone near where his head had been.
“Come on!” yelled Owen, and grabbing his staff he raced around the tower to the south side to cover the exit.
The boys stared at the open doorway, arrows half drawn, but the opening just stared back at them dark and silent.
“We’re going to have to go in after him,” Owen said, reluctantly. “He may have some means to signal for reinforcements. We can’t let that happen.”
Owen took off his quiver and handed it to Marian. “Take my bow, and if he comes out that door, kill him. Don’t let him get past you, if he raises the alarm we’ll have the whole army after us.
“Jack, shall we enter the great-cat’s den?”
Jack took a deep breath, put down his bow and pulled out his knife. “Let’s go.”
Owen led the way up the narrow stairs, while Marian covered the door and the battlement overhead with Owen’s bow. Owen held his staff ready for a thrust and parry, hoping that no attack would come until he was in a place with better footing. When he reached the door, he peaked quickly inside and pulled back again.
The door opened into a large round room that took up the full base of the tower. There were no windows or arrow slits at this level, and there was still not much light coming in through the open door. Owen couldn’t be sure, but he did not think that the gorn was on this level. With a rush, Owen went through the door, with Jack close behind. He quickly braced himself on the sticky floor, ready for an attack, but there was only silence.
Owen’s eyes were adjusting slowly to the dim interior, and his headache seemed to be receding. Looking quickly around, he saw only some trash on the floor at one side and an enclosed staircase spiraling up the opposite side. There was no sign of the gorn, but there was a strong, putrid smell in the air that reminded Owen of a hog butchering that had gone bad.
Owen motioned Jack to stay behind him and to his left, and he silently eased over to the base of the stairs. The stairs were made of heavy oak planks with stone walls on each side. Wide enough to swing a sword, they opened up dark and empty before him, spiraling up out of sight to the roof and battlements above. Somewhat protected from the elements, they appeared to be solid. Slowly, and as quietly as possible, Owen began to climb, the end of his staff held before him. Occasional arrow slits provided some light at intervals along the way.
About half way up, Owen stepped on a plank that let out a deep creaking groan. Suddenly, in a rush, the gorn came into view from above. He held a large iron club high in the air, and was already bringing it down towards Owen’s head. Startled, Owen fell back, grounding the butt of his staff on the step below to try to catch his balance. The gorn in his rush caught the end of the staff in his sternum, and as Owen continued to fall, the gorn’s forward momentum vaulted him on the end of the staff over Owen and down the stairs. Jack was just able to dodge against the inner stonewall and avoid the clutching grasp of the gorn as it sailed by.
Owen slid painfully on his back down several stairs before he could regain control. The gorn had landed heavily with a crash on the stairs below.
Jack, after checking on Owen, bounded down the stairs with his knife ready, to find the gorn already rising to his feet. He had transferred his club to his left hand; his right shoulder appeared to be broken, and that arm dangled at his side. Jack had the high ground, and the gorn was only able to jab awkwardly with the heavy club, as he gave ground down the stairs. Owen soon regained his footing, and limping slightly from a bruise on his hip joined the attack.
Working together, the boys were able to continue to force the gorn back down the stairs a step at a time and into the open room at the base; then they spread apart. The gorn was gradually forced back against the far wall, where he stumbled against something on the floor. As he stumbled, he dropped his guard with his club, and Owen made a mighty thrust of his staff to the gorn’s face just below the ridge bone between the eyes. The gor
n collapsed, and Jack leapt in and thrust his knife through the gorn’s eye and up into its brain.
Exhausted by the fear and the effort, Jack and Owen leaned against the wall panting until their limbs stopped trembling and they were able to regain their breath. Finally, Owen whispered, “We’d better make sure that there are no more,” and fearfully he once again cautiously approached the stairs.
The climb this time was uneventful, although Owen flinched when he hit that same squeaky step, and soon the boys reached the top and looked out over the surrounding countryside. The sun was just climbing into the sky, the air was clear and they could see for leagues in all directions. Owen decided that he had been right that they could not have bypassed this tower safely. On the horizon to the west, they could just make out a faint wisp of smoke rising from the camp of those they pursued. Other than that, there was no sign of their enemies in any direction.
Owen leaned over the side and called down to Marian that all was clear. Although reluctant to leave the growing light of day to re-enter the dark tower, the boys decided that they had better get back to their horses and resume the chase.
Owen’s eyes once again had to adjust to the dark stairway, but the light coming in from the arrow slits was brighter now, and by the time they reached the bottom, they were able to see the large room at the base much more clearly with the added light through the open doorway.
Something about the lump near the wall that they had noticed before caught Owen’s attention, and he went over to investigate. Suddenly Owen realized what they were looking at, and ran to the doorway to vomit outside.
“What happened?” Marian asked, startled.
“Don’t come in,” Owen managed to say with a gasp. “We’ll be out in a minute. Get me that gorn’s blanket, please.”
When Marian brought it, Owen took it from her and went back inside. Jack was still standing there staring, his face deathly white. On the floor next to the gorn was the body of a woman. Carefully, Owen spread the blanket on top of the pool of blood that was on the floor next to her, and rolled the body onto it. The body was badly beaten and disfigured, sliced and burned in many places, and judging by the amount and the pattern of the blood on the floor, she must have been alive for a long time. A large chunk of flesh had been carved from the inside of her left thigh, down to the bone, and was nowhere to be seen. Her face was badly bruised, and her cheek bones had been broken, so Owen could not tell who she had been, but he did notice with a pang of guilty relief that her hair was blond. It was not Sarah.
Near the wall, Owen spotted a piece of cloth that must have been the woman’s shift, torn and ripped from her body. He tucked it around her as best he could, then Jack helped him roll her up in the tattered blanket. Owen hated to use this rough cloth that smelled so strongly of the gorn who had owned it to cover the woman’s body, but it was all they had. They would bury her in the trees so that the gorn or a wolf would not dig her up. ‘The carrion eaters are welcome to the dead gorn,’ Owen thought, angrily ‘if they can stomach the taste.’
Chapter 4
The Baraduhne
Yeva knelt with her forehead pressed to the polished marble floor. While in the presence of the Great Sorcerer and High Lord Adham al Dharr, she was expected to hear and to see nothing. As bodyguard to Master Kadeen, Sorcerer and First Counselor to the High Lord, she was trained to hear and to see everything, and she never forgot her training. Her eyes never moved, never left the marble floor, but the marble was highly polished, and in the reflection of the floor, she could clearly see the nearby silver lamp stand, and in the reflection of the lamp stand, she had a panoramic view of the entire room. She could see her master at the other end of the long audience chamber standing at the foot of the raised dais that held the gilded throne of the High Lord. Lord Adham al Dharr was standing in front of his throne looking down upon his Chief Counselor. In proportion to the High Lord, Councilor Kadeen was short and slight of build, making him appear almost childlike in his long dark robes, standing below the dais.
The Great Audience Chamber of the High Lord of the Baraduhne was vast, with 13 tall stone pillars down each side supporting a vaulted ceiling high overhead. The pillars were large—it would take three men holding hands to reach around any one of them—and deeply fluted with gold mined from this very mountain inlaid up their long length. Rich gold and dark magenta tapestries lined the walls behind the columns, depicting great battles and past victories of the Baraduhne. The black marble floor was laced with flecks of quartz, and inlaid with silver in the form of a large rune of warding that stretched from one side of the great hall to the other. Anyone approaching the throne would have to cross that rune. If they were armed, whatever weapon they carried would burst into white-hot flame, incinerating the weapon, and likely the one who carried it.
There were hidden alcoves along the sides of the chamber for the High Lord’s guards and the ever-present Watchers whose job it was to observe the overt and hidden words and actions of all who came for audience before the Great Sorcerer. Carved from the mountain itself, this room along with the entire palace was heated by conduits and baffles that brought warm air up through deep shafts that tapped into the very fires of the earth far below. The room was lit by hundreds of silver sconces backed by silver mirrors that held gas flames fed from the depths. Three large chandeliers spaced down the center of the chamber also provided light so that every corner was illuminated. The acoustics of the room were cleverly designed so that pronouncements from the throne could be heard clearly to the far reaches of the great hall.
“As I have foretold, Kadeen” the Great Sorcerer was saying, “the wizard Gilladhe has been destroyed. Just as for ages I have felt his life across the mountains and the barrier that he created in the mouth of the pass, I have now felt his death. Soon we will claim the lands that he protected. No longer will we be confined to this corner of the empire by our enemies to the north.”
“That is auspicious news indeed, Great One,” Kadeen answered, bowing. “Our forces are ready, we can move our engineers and work crews through to begin clearing the pass at first light.”
“Not yet, my faithful servant, patience is yet required,” Adham al Dharr responded. “As I anticipated, the wizard had an apprentice. He has foolishly revealed himself to me this very night. I met his spirit at the bridge, and nearly took him in his pride but in the final instant he eluded me. But it does not matter. If your men have done as I commanded, they will confine him in the dungeons of Carraghlaoch where he will be unable to touch his power. Then we can add to our forces on the other side and proceed with our plans. With the threat from the north, we dare not risk a war on two fronts. Once the trigitch is destroyed and that barrier to magic has been removed from the pass, we can move unopposed.”
“Is the apprentice a man of power, Great Lord?” Kadeen asked.
“Yes, but young. He wields great power and is sealed to the winds, but I sensed surprise when he saw me. He was not well prepared for our meeting. When we meet in flesh, I will have him easily; then we will see how his powers may serve me.”
Yeva was as stone upon the floor. She ceased to breath when she heard those words, but there was no gasp, no movement, no indication of any kind to the Watchers in this room that she had been anything but unseeing and unhearing. Even her heart beat, beyond the three beats that raced after hearing of the doom that was approaching, was low and steady, totally under control.
Yeva had been taken from her mother by the Assassins Guild at the age of three to begin training in the physical and mental disciplines required for her future. The training was constant, exacting and brutal, and most of her companions along the way had either been killed, seriously maimed, or lost in some alternate pathway of the mind; but through the 15 years of intensive training Yeva had excelled, avoiding the falls, the garrotes and blades of enemies and the seductive mental traps encountered in her meditations, and was now held high in the secret rankings of her profession. Kadeen had purchased her from the Guil
d because of her ranking, and also because he enjoyed gathering beautiful things around him. Even more, he enjoyed the envy of those who admired but could not possess the beautiful things that he gathered.
As Yeva had advanced, mastering her body, her surroundings and the use of weapons, the training had become more and more mental. The ability to not be seen, or to be seen where she was not, required a focused mind. To climb a vertical wall where there were no visible handholds, to move across a sanded floor leaving no sign of her passing, to soundlessly pass through a closed door without seeming to open it, these required a fixed concentration and close contact with the Realm of Infinite Possibilities. Yeva could not perform magic the way her master Kadeen or the Great Sorcerer Adham al Dharr could perform magic. Yeva was merely mortal, but through years of effort she had honed the ability to examine and use the Realm of Infinite Possibilities. Within that Realm, there were realities in which the seamless wall was not seamless, the sanded floor was not sanded, and the closed door was open.
Time flowed like a river with all of its branches and tributaries within the Realm, and Yeva used that fact during her evening meditations to examine possible courses of action and to consider future dangers. Little was clear when the Realm was used in this way, including the certainty or even the chronology of events as they might apply to her bodily existence. Hazards that she foresaw within the Realm were merely possibilities in her daily life, and a warning that she perceived there might relate to actions about to take place, actions for which the conditions would not exist for some time, or actions that would never be triggered at all by events in her real world. The greater the danger in the real world, the more likely it was to be perceived out of its normal time in the Realm. With all of its uncertainty, a disciplined unemotional examination of future possibilities could often be used to favorably influence the flow of possible outcomes.
The Staff of the Winds (The Wizard of South Corner Book 1) Page 8