The White Tower (The Aldoran Chronicles: Book 1)

by Michael Wisehart

  The boy’s arms and legs grew in size and thickened. The straps holding his legs in place ripped apart as he rolled off the table and onto the floor where his limbs continued to twist. All the joints in his body snapped and he howled in pain. “Make it stop! Please, make it stop!” He cried out with a voice that sounded like rocks being rubbed together. His limbs continued to twist and stretch and the skin around his body appeared to be ripping in places as if it was too tight to hold what was growing inside.

  The cries and growls and screams faded after a while. Tate, or whatever it was, appeared to be dead. It lay prostrate on the stone floor.

  No one moved. They were all too afraid of it jumping up and tearing them limb from limb simply out of spite, Valtor among them.

  The creature finally stirred. It no longer bore any resemblance of humanity, except maybe in the eyes as its head rose and it scanned the room, marking those who stood near. Gradually, it pushed its way up on its haunches. It was easily two times the size of any man, with claws the size of a human finger.

  Raising its matted head, it sniffed the air and then spread its lips, baring its massive canines. It was truly a remarkable creation. Valtor couldn’t help but feel a little proud. Pulling himself together from the shock of it all, he stepped forward. The movement brought the creature’s attention around with a swift snap of the head. Bracing its shoulders, it scrunched down on its haunches and then without warning, leapt into the air, over tables, and chests, and cabinets, landing directly in front of Valtor.

  Valtor tripped over his own feet as he fell backwards against a standing shelf. His mitre went flying in the opposite direction.

  Rowen rushed the creature in protection of his master. The Shak’tor backhanded Rowen and sent him flying through the air where he landed on a table and went still.

  Valtor couldn’t move from his place on the cold stone. He could feel his knees clapping against each other with such force that he was afraid they were going to chip the bones. The creature looked down into Valtor’s face and Valtor could see the fierce hatred within. But before the creature could strike, Valtor raised his cut hand and showed his mark to the creature.

  He wasn’t sure what was required to control it, or if he had gotten the incantation right, or if whoever had scribed the book had added that part just to play a sick game on the one stupid enough to try it, but he figured he had no other choice, and so, with arm outstretched, he waited while the creature leaned its muzzle over and sniffed his open palm.

  Valtor figured it would either work or he would soon be missing a good hand. To his relief, the creature appeared pacified as it bowed its head toward him.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Valtor could see Rowen’s body begin to stir from where he had landed on the table. Realizing he had been holding his breath the entire time, Valtor exhaled as he slowly struggled back to his feet. He looked deep into the creature’s eyes and smiled.

  “Ah, my dear Tate, I told you I would make you big and strong.”

  Chapter 23 | Nyalis

  WITHIN THE CONFINES of his unseen garden, Nyalis opened his eyes.

  He could feel a trembling in the Life Web. An awakening of something dark that had, until now, remained dormant for centuries, for millennia.

  They found the grimoire.

  Across his small sanctuary there in the heart of Y’tarra—the realm between realms, hidden to both world and time—the old wizard strode to the ancient reliquary. Up the steps he climbed into the fallen ruins, stopping in front of a large obsidian basin, built into the top of a white-marble dais. Around the bowl’s outer edge were runes etched in gold. They were glowing. Inside the basin, the Waters of A’sterith stirred and Nyalis gazed upon the images summoned. They were dark, full of violence and death.

  “Worse, they have conjured a transformation. Fools! Do they not know the power they are meddling with?”

  He wiped his hand across the silvery water, clearing the dark foretelling before spinning back around. His white hair stirred like a mantle behind him as he moved toward the edge of the platform and looked out over his garden oasis, the lush colors that carpeted the ground, the violet blooms that laced the low-hanging branches of the surrounding willows, the slowly moving stream that hugged the outer edge, and beyond, the massive wall of protective trees, so thick he couldn’t see past the first few rows.

  He took a deep breath and sighed. “The board is now set and the first move made.”

  Nyalis could feel the abrupt stirring of the waters behind him. He turned and walked back to the basin. There was a presence rising. Leaning over the edge, he peered inside. “I know you are watching.” Nyalis leveled his hands over the placid liquid, causing the sleeves of his robe to retract past his wrists. He whispered into the silence. “Iryseth a’ Daomon.”

  Lowering his arms, Nyalis took a step back and waited. From over the rim the Waters of A’sterith rose and took shape, its thick silvery liquid molded into the contour of a hooded cloak. There was no face, no hands, no feet. Only darkness rested beneath its folds, for which Nyalis was well aware as he waited for the apparition to retake its corporeal form.

  “I see the years have not been kind to you, Nyalis, last of the wizards?” The booming voice rose out from under its fluid robe, filling the small glen with its echo.

  “Ah, my dear Aerodyne, where else but from you could I find such a jousting of wit.”

  “You mock me, wizard?”

  “I mock what you have become,” Nyalis said with a sharp gesture toward the basin. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

  “You will speak differently soon enough.”

  Nyalis didn’t respond. Instead, he studied his opponent with careful scrutiny. The thick fluid continued to roll across the shadow’s formation, much like honey as it courses down its comb, collecting at the bottom. The shade shifted slightly, causing a momentary change in the liquid’s path. “Why do you keep the child hidden from me, Nyalis? Even from here I can sense the stirring of his power. You know I will find him eventually.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “You cannot keep me bound forever.” The image slid forward in the basin. “The confinement spells are weakening. They are eroding. You know this is true. What will become of your precious humans then, with you no longer there to direct them, to protect them?” He raised the empty arm of his robe. “Shall I tell you, Nyalis? Shall I tell you all the wonderful details of what I am going to do with them once I have been freed?”

  The thought of Aerodyne being loosed on the world once more was frightening. To his regret, Nyalis knew the dark wizard spoke the truth. The protective barrier holding the dark wizard’s essence had begun to deteriorate. It had been over a thousand years since the wizard covenant was established. Countless wizards had sacrificed their lives in the creation of the barrier. It was built as a prison deep beneath the Pits of Aran’gal. A place known only to the Wizard Order. Its name in the Fae tongue was Taerin nu’Cyllian—Tomb of the Abandoned.

  “They may yet surprise you.”

  “Hah! Their minds are weak and pliable. They will serve me before the end.”

  “Almost a thousand years and yet you have not changed.”

  “Oh, but I have.” Aerodyne turned and lifted the sleeves of his robe. “I am no longer bound by flesh and bone. I am truly immortal.”

  “But at what cost?” Nyalis took a step forward. “Every choice has a consequence as the Creator designed, and I fear yours has cost you everything.”

  “Is that empathy I detect in your voice?” Aerodyne’s tone held a hint of sarcasm, mingled with loathing. “Hah! Your feelings are wasted on me, wizard.”

  “That wasn’t always so. There was a time when I would have called you . . . friend.”

  The silvery phantom slid back toward the center of the basin. “Those times are no more.”

  Nyalis watched as the former First Wizard sank beneath the rim, leaving the Waters of A’sterith to lie dormant once again. The gold runes faded.

&nbs
p; If there was one thing Nyalis agreed with the dark wizard on, it was that time was indeed running out.

  Chapter 24 | Ty

  DAWN CAME EARLY the next morning as Ty woke to the sound of Breen dressing. Not feeling quite as energetic as the day before, he waited until his brother had left the room and shut the door before stretching and throwing back his covers. The light was just creeping in over the sill as he fought to open his eyes.

  With most of his chores already completed, Ty finally had a day free to do whatever he wished, and after the traumatic experience of the previous evening, his mother had agreed to let him sleep in. He lay on his back and watched as the early morning rays pressed their way through the split shutters of his bedroom window. The particles of dust sparkled as they slowly floated from one beam to the next.

  After spending some time in earnest reflection, Ty concluded that he wanted to devote the entire day to himself, one day of complete and utter alone time, one day to just get away from it all and relax—

  “Ty! Are you in there?” Adarra bellowed from the other side of the door. “We have a lot to talk about today!”

  “Ugh.” Ty rolled over and pulled his covers back over his head.

  After a leisurely breakfast of hot porridge and honey, dipped with a fresh loaf of white bread his mother had just pulled from the oven, and some cold dairy to wash it down, Ty headed for the woods. Unfortunately, he was accompanied by an overly energetic older sister who was acting like she had just been bequeathed the royal library in Aramoor. Her lust for the knowledge she thought he possessed flickered in her eyes as she followed him across the small wooden bridge behind their cottage.

  Adarra looked a lot like their mother must have when she was younger. Apart from the freckles on her cheeks, she was short like their mother, and had the same straight brunette hair that fell halfway down her back. Giving up on an attempt at blowing the strands from her face, Adarra finally tucked them behind her ears so she could see to scribble on the loose sheets of parchment she carried with her.

  Taking a seat on an old log, Adarra laid her small stack of sheets on top of a thick hardbound book she used for stability when writing. “So, when was the first time you knew you had magic?”

  Ty huffed. “Do you really need to keep a written record of my life? What happens if someone reads it and discovers what I can do?”

  “Who would ever want to read my journals?” She had a naïve sort of point there, Ty thought. She had no friends for that very reason. She spent all her time doodling, and documenting, and contemplating deep thoughts. “Besides, once I finish writing it down, I’m going to burn it anyway.”

  “What? Why would you go to the trouble of writing it down if you’re just going to burn it?”

  “It’s the only way I can remember it.”

  Ty cocked his head to the side. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It does if you’re a memoriae.”

  “A what?”

  “A memoriae. Someone with the gift of memory.”

  Ty perked. “You have magic?”

  “Of course, doofus, why do you think I’m constantly writing everything down?”

  “Because you’re weird?”

  Adarra rolled her eyes. She looked like she wanted to throw her quill at him but refrained. “No, it’s because my gift allows me to remember everything I see. So if you were to simply tell me how your magic works then I’m likely to forget it later, but if I write it down where I can see the words on the page then I’ll remember it forever.” She narrowed her eyes trying to read his face. “Understand?”

  “I guess. Seems like a strange use of magic, though, just to be able to remember things.”

  “Hardly,” she huffed. “Knowledge is power. Think about how long it takes a physicker to learn his craft. Imagine how much better it would be for someone who didn’t need to spend precious hours poring over old medical journals in order to make a proper diagnosis while his patient was dying in the next room? If he had my gift, he would have the answer in moments.”

  Ty conceded with a bob of his head. “I guess you’re right. So, you can really remember everything you’ve ever written down in your journals?”

  “I can remember anything I’ve ever read or seen.”

  Ty rubbed his smooth chin between his thumb and first finger. “What book is that?” he asked, pointing down at her lap.

  “Scagoria’s Guide to Herbalism and the Art of Natural Healing.”

  “How many pages does it have?”

  “Three hundred and nineteen.” Her eyelids narrowed. “Why?”

  Ty leaned over and grabbed the book before she could stop him.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” she asked as she tried to catch the loose parchments that had been on top.

  “I want to see for myself.”

  She offered a mischievous grin. “Don’t believe me?”

  He opened the book to somewhere in the middle and scanned the left side. “What does it say on page one hundred and forty-eight?”

  Adarra’s lips pursed as she glanced down at the mulch of early winter leaves lining the small path ahead. “Which paragraph?”

  Ty looked up from the book. “Are you serious?”

  “Which paragraph?” she asked again. “There are five. Should I recite them all?”

  Ty glanced back down at the heavy book. She was right. There were five paragraphs. Could have been a lucky guess, though. He scanned the opposite page to count the number of paragraphs there. Most pages probably had only five or six. That wouldn’t be too hard to figure out. “Alright, what does the second sentence of the third paragraph say?”

  Again her lips stiffened. “It says ‘the elderberry has been traditionally used to treat pain, swelling, infections, and skin conditions’.”

  Ty huffed. He closed the book and handed it back to her. “That’s pretty incredible.”

  Adarra merely smiled as she placed the heavy novel back under her papers.

  “To answer your question, I’m not really sure when I first knew I had magic.” He gazed into the distance, trying to recall the earliest moments he had recognized his gift for what it was. “When I was younger, I didn’t understand that what I was doing was magic.” His feet lighted across the fallen leaves on the small path as he paced back and forth, the dry ones crunching underneath.

  Like the flickering dance of a red flit hummingbird, Adarra’s fingers flew across the paper with rampant speed as she attempted to capture every detail he had to offer.

  “Honestly,” he continued, “I can’t remember a time when I haven’t been able to communicate with the life around me. I guess I always thought that everyone else could as well.” He stopped to watch a couple of tree rats scurry through the branches over their heads, playing a hazardous game of tag. “It didn’t take long to figure out that I was the only one who could hear them.”

  He kicked a couple of rocks down the path, watching them skip and bounce and finally come to a stop. “I figured it was probably best to keep it to myself.” He shrugged. “I didn’t want everyone to think I was . . . weird or something.”

  Adarra shook her head at the verbal poke in her direction. “Well, we already knew you were an odd one.” She snickered as she playfully kicked a small pile of leaves in his direction. “So when you talk about listening to nature . . . What’s that like? Can you actually understand the animals when they make noises? You said they don’t talk like we do, so how do you know what they’re saying?”

  “They don’t exactly communicate with a spoken language. It’s like they talk with their emotions or instincts. I can hear when they are hungry, or tired, or scared. I know if one of them has a mate or a family.” He shrugged dismissively. “I can’t explain it other than that.”

  “Interesting.” Adarra waved her hand for him to continue.

  “Now with the trees and plants, it’s even more instinctive—”

  “Whoa, wait!” His sister’s head shot up in the middle of her scribing. “You
can talk to the trees? You can actually hear plants? Ty, that’s amazing.”

  He grinned at the bout of praise.

  “When they communicate, it’s mainly of their basic needs at the time. Like sunshine, water, air, good soil, that sort of thing.” He watched his sister’s expressions go from anxious, to excited, to exhilarated, with each new tidbit of information she managed to copy down. “They tell me when they are thirsty or content, when they are enjoying the nutrients of the sun or feel the rise of a storm.”

  “With so many voices all talking at the same time, doesn’t it get . . . I don’t know, rather confusing, or loud?”

  “At first it was overwhelming, but I’ve managed to find a way to drown them out, at least the ones I want to. Just don’t ask me how I do it.” He shrugged. “I’ve got no idea.” He stopped for a moment to try coming up with a logical metaphor. “It’s like when you hold something in your hand for a long period of time without moving it and pretty soon you can’t tell it’s there anymore. It’s the same way with the noise. I sort of grow numb to it.”

  Adarra finished scribbling a couple more lines before dropping her arm and fixing Ty with a look of absolute determination. “Push me.”

  “What?”

  “You know, with your magic. Push me.”

  Ty sighed. He had been wondering how long it would take before she got around to asking about that. As hesitant as he had been in letting out his secret, he found he was actually enjoying this chance to share his powers with someone else. He had not realized how much of a burden it had been keeping it all bottled inside.

  After taking a moment to clear his mind, Ty tried focusing on a single image—the same small glen where he had taken the people during Performance Night. Nothing happened. He tried again. This time he searched for that strange warming feeling he had experienced when he had pushed everyone the first time. Again nothing happened. Ty opened his eyes and shook his head. “It doesn’t seem to be working.”