The White Tower (The Aldoran Chronicles: Book 1)

by Michael Wisehart

  Ayrion glanced over his shoulder. “Has he been fed?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve also taken the liberty to warm him for you. I’d hate to see a beautiful animal like Shade injured because of improper grooming, sir.”

  Ayrion stepped into the left stirrup and mounted. “You’re a good hostler, Loren. Don’t let anyone tell you different. Your feel for the animals does you credit.”

  “I thank you, Guardian. I only wish there were more like you who actually understood the bond between horse and rider.”

  Ayrion smiled. He rode toward the front gates. His horse’s shoes echoed off the courtyard stone. Commander Tolin was saddled and chatting with Overcaptain Asa, as Ayrion made his way to the front of the two lancer companies that were waiting directly behind the gatehouse walls.

  Despite being labeled as a commoner, Overcaptain Asa had quickly risen through the ranks. He was short but well-built. The full ducktail beard hanging from his chin tapered into a sharp point, and the jagged scar that ran from the top of his right eye down and across the side of his right cheek gave him the distinct appearance of a man you didn’t want to mess with.

  The overcaptain had opted for not wearing his eye patch. He occasionally enjoyed touting his empty socket for no other purpose than to make those around him nervous. From the way Asa continued to glance over his shoulder at the ambassadors, this was clearly one of those times.

  Ayrion reined in beside Tolin. “Everything in order?”

  Asa twisted in his saddle. “Everything but those royal pains in my backside, the all high and mighty ambassadors.” He spat on the ground in front of him.

  The commander smiled. “I can’t say that I disagree with the sentiment, Overcaptain, but we have a duty to perform, and we will perform it to the best of our ability no matter how distasteful we might feel it is.”

  “Beggin’ your pardon, sir,” Asa said, twisting the reins around in his gloved hands, “I never meant to suggest we wouldn’t. I just don’t got to enjoy it, that’s all.”

  Tolin chuckled then looked at Ayrion. “Everything’s in order. You?”

  “I left Captain Barthol in charge while we are gone, so I suspect everything should be just fine.”

  “Good man, Barthol,” Tolin said.

  “He is. Wish I had a hundred just like him.” Ayrion turned at the sound of approaching hooves. The High King, along with the ambassadors, made their way toward the front of the procession. Ayrion left the commander and overcaptain to make his way to the front in order to better protect the king.

  The caravan was moving toward the outer palace gates when a solitary rider rounded the south bailey. Ayrion shifted in his saddle to see Dakaran trotting up to take his place behind his father. Ayrion couldn’t help but notice the king’s smile.

  Behind the ambassadors rode the High Guard, their black capes billowing out behind them, keeping close assurance to the king’s safety. Following the Guard was the royal gamekeeper, an older man bent with age. He was in charge of making sure to locate the best possible habitats for the grouse they would be hunting. After him were the crossbowmen and the veneur, carrying the spaniels used for the rustling of the grouse. And lastly, bringing up the rear, were the Elondrian lancers. The sun reflected off their helms as they rode two abreast.

  Altogether, it was quite the impressive entourage that made its way under the arches of the central gates and across the high bridge. Below the mighty Shemoa River was met with the force of the bay’s tide.

  Passing over the causeway, they made their way through the streets of Aramoor. With welcoming smiles, the citizenry waved at the High King as he passed. Rhydan smiled politely and nodded as they traveled along the chief thoroughfare leading out to the city’s Eastern Gate. Rhydan was the first king in anyone’s memory that cared more about them than he did himself.

  Ayrion had spent countless hours attending the open-door sessions the king held in the throne room where he encouraged the citizens of Aramoor to come and make their petitions. Mostly, the king and queen enjoyed spending time with their people, getting to know their needs. Obviously, with a city the size of Aramoor, it would have been impossible to personally tend to everyone, but the gesture didn’t go unnoticed.

  Ayrion could remember a time when the king had personally ordered his own coffers used to help a struggling home for unruly boys. Having been one of those boys years ago, Ayrion appreciated the sentiment.

  It took nearly an hour for the rather large party to wind their way through Aramoor and pass outside the city’s fortifications. The Elondrian capital was surrounded by a massive wall that spanned the entire perimeter. It was a marvel of engineering. The wall was thick enough to stand three men at the top, fully abreast. Ayrion could only guess at the scope of manpower and magic that must have been used in its shaping. Those living within were all but guaranteed a peaceful existence. For since its construction after the Wizard Wars, the wall had never been breached.

  Turning north, the hunting party followed the Tansian River as they made their way toward the foothills of the Sandrethin Mountains and the lower woodlands.

  It was the perfect day for a hunt. The sun was shining and the cool breeze blowing in off the upper snowcaps kept away most of the insects populating the upper lowlands. The ash, silver maple, and slippery elm became more infrequent the higher they climbed, making way for the sugar pine, fir, spruce, and mountain hemlock.

  Ayrion watched as the old gamekeeper left the assembly and rode on ahead to scout possible locations for their hunt.

  Periodically, Ayrion would turn in the saddle to make sure he had set a reasonable pace. The king was busy working to keep a steady conversation flowing with his son while the ambassadors were more than content to talk amongst themselves, pointing out the landscape or the occasional animal which happened to pass within sight. Only one of the ambassadors maintained a steady eye on Ayrion. He could feel the Cylmaran’s hatred stabbing at his back like a hot iron poker. Ayrion wondered what was driving such overwhelming hatred.

  About an hour into their journey, Ayrion caught sight of the royal gamekeeper standing beside his mount off to the side of the main road. He signaled the hunting party to a halt.

  Ayrion shifted in his saddle. “I believe the gamekeeper has found our quarry, Your Majesty. We should go on foot from here.”

  Ambassador Gyin, who was barely managing to stay on his horse as his weight bounced around at every dip and turn, was the first to speak. “On foot? I can’t see why we shouldn’t be able to shoot these birds from a horse just as easily as from the ground.”

  “If you’ll permit me, Ambassador,” Ayrion said. “The noise produced from a contingent of horses such as these would undoubtedly frighten off any creature long before we were within a respectable shooting distance.”

  “Well, just how long of a walk are we talking about here?”

  “As long as it needs to be, sir, but I would hope not that far.”

  The king gracefully swung down from his horse. “Come now, Gyin, I’ll be more than happy to entertain those at dinner this evening with the heroic tale of our hunt, not leaving out, of course, the fearless ambassador who stayed behind to watch the horses.”

  Gyin grumbled under his breath as he awkwardly dismounted.

  The lancers held the horses as Ayrion motioned for the crossbowmen and the dog-handlers to approach. He addressed the veneur first as they lowered the spaniels. “Follow the gamekeeper up the trailhead and see if the dogs can find a scent. The bowmen will ready the weapons as you do.” Without question, the dog-handlers headed up the path the old gamekeeper had just taken.

  Each of the bowmen loaded a broad-head quarrel into the groove of their crossbows after first using the stirrup to pull back on the string and lock the hemp in place.

  As soon as the bows were ready, the small party made their way up the gentle sloping track, winding further into the lower foothills of the mountain’s base. Ten lancers selected by Overcaptain Asa were left in charge of the horse
s while those remaining followed the party up the trail, keeping to a safe distance in the rear so as not to startle the hunter’s game.

  One by one the hunters exited the trail. They were standing in a large meadow. The veneur kept a tight rein on the dogs, allowing the High King and ambassadors the time needed to catch up.

  After a brief discussion with the dog-handlers and the gamekeeper, Ayrion walked back to the eagerly awaiting huntsmen. “Our gamekeeper seems to believe there is a decent size covey nesting in those low lying shrubs on the far left side of the meadow. He believes if we keep our noise to a minimum, we should be able to approach within at least thirty paces before he orders the veneur to release the dogs. Once the dogs are released, you’ll have only moments before they hit the tree line and the birds fly. You’ll only get one shot, two at the most.”

  Nierdon, the ambassador to Keldor, took a step forward. “What happens if we miss?”

  “Then you will need to hand your crossbow back to the bowman and he’ll hand you a fresh bow and re-load the spent one for you.” Ayrion scanned the faces of the small group. “Don’t get too upset if your first shot is a miss. Many times, I’ve been told the grouse will fly only far enough to perch in a nearby tree, and if all else fails this is still only the first stop.”

  “First stop?” Gyin’s head lifted. “I hope you don’t expect us to just go traipsing all over the mountainside like a pack of wild goats?”

  “For pity sake, Gyin,” Lanmiere interrupted, “the fresh air might do you some good, not to mention the exercise.” The Sidaran Ambassador looked a bit put out by the Briston Ambassador’s whining.

  A couple of the other ambassadors stifled a chuckle while Gyin huffed at the remark about his weight and tugged on his trousers.

  “Ambassadors, if you would, please take your crossbows,” Ayrion said. “We will be walking in silence the rest of the way. I’ll raise my hand when we get within shooting distance.” He demonstrated the hand motion. “When I lower it, the veneur will release the dogs and the rest will be up to you.”

  The king took hold of his crossbow. “Thank you, Guardian, I believe they get the picture.” Ayrion hoped so. He was getting a bit tired of acting like a mother hound trying to explain the use of its teats to a passel of ornery pups.

  With nothing left to say after the High King’s statement, the rest of the party retrieved their weapons and formed a simple line formation to make sure no overenthusiastic hunter released his quarrel into another’s unsuspecting back—whether by accident or not.

  Without a word, the small party advanced, and with each new step, Ayrion could feel the tension building. With the amount of raw vitality pouring off the ambassadors, one would have believed they were marching into battle against a horde of rock trolls and not a nest of defenseless grouse.

  Commander Tolin, Overcaptain Asa, and the main lancer company kept their place at the entrance to the large meadow, not wanting to disturb the nobility’s sport, but clearly staying within eye-shot in case the need should arise. The High Guard accompanying the king kept a few steps behind the small party, giving them plenty of space to enjoy their hunt, but close enough that they could reach the king within a moment’s notice.

  Ayrion, a few steps in front of the gentry, watched the old gamekeeper as he tried reading a few of the tracks in the soft dirt. The old man turned his head around to signal something to Ayrion, but stopped when the forest went still. Both the gamekeeper and Ayrion froze. Ayrion could feel it. Something was wrong. They were being watched. Quickly, he raised his fist, signaling the hunters behind him to stop.

  “What’s wrong?” Ambassador Gyin asked under his breath. “Where’s the birds?”

  “Hush, you fat fool,” Belkor spat.

  With eyes scanning the forest ahead, Ayrion cautiously backed his way toward the rest of the men as he drew one sword and then the other from the sheaths on his back.

  The dogs were now baring their teeth and growling at something ahead. The veneur quickly set the spaniels back on the ground. They studied the surrounding trees, trying to find the cause of the dog’s unexpected behavior.

  Ayrion moved alongside the king, who was keeping a watchful eye on the trees as well. The king’s finger gently stroked the tip of his crossbow’s release clamp. “What’s going on?”

  The ambassadors were all looking his way.

  “Something’s wrong. Do you hear it?”

  “I don’t hear anything,” Ambassador Lanmiere said.

  “Exactly.” Ayrion didn’t like what he was feeling. “We need to close rank.”

  Chapter 27 | Ayrion

  NO SOONER HAD the words escaped his lips than an enormous, misshapen creature, standing at least ten feet tall, leaped out of the thick brush at the edge of the trees and stuck five massive claws through the old gamekeeper’s chest. The man didn’t even have time to cry out before he died.

  Ambassador Gyin shrilled in terror.

  With blood still dripping from its dagger-like claws, the creature retracted its hand from the gamekeeper’s chest and let the old man’s body drop to the ground. The creature reared on its haunches and let out a bloodcurdling roar. The sound could best be described as something between the howl of a feral beast and the cry of something so badly formed that every movement brought with it intense pain.

  In all the battles and hard campaigns he had fought and endured, Ayrion was, for the first time, truly afraid. But it wasn’t the type of fear that petrified a man into a state of immobility; rather, it was the fear of the unknown. The fear of facing something he didn’t understand or even comprehend. Ayrion pushed the thoughts from his mind. Defeat was not an option, not when the life of his king weighed in the balance.

  Ayrion studied the beast. It was more than twice the size of a man when it stood on its back haunches. It was poorly fashioned, a conglomeration of many different species all pieced together. It was human in shape, but twisted with a fusing of other animalistic features. Wrapped in layers of muscle, its skeletal structure bulged in some places, as if the bones wanted to push through the skin.

  Halfway through its roar, the dogs tucked tail and ran. Behind him, Ayrion could hear Tolin shouting orders for Asa to bring the horses. The commander and his men were no doubt on their way across the large field, which left only Ayrion and his Guard to hold the creature off until they arrived.

  The creature scanned the now circled group of men before coming to a final rest on the High King. Ayrion was dumbfounded. He could see a sense of intelligence at work behind its dark eyes. It was not mere quirk of fate that had directed this beast across their path. Moving into a defensive posture with his swords out in front, Ayrion closed his eyes and reached out with his senses as he waited for what he knew was coming.

  Beside him, the king pulled his sword. The steel rang as it slid free of its scabbard. Dakaran, as well, had his sword out and at the ready.

  The small hunting party was twenty or thirty paces from the edge of the brush where the creature stood. It roared once more and then charged.

  Most of the ambassadors, never having faced real combat before, triggered their crossbows without so much as taking aim. It was only by a twist of fate they managed to keep from shooting each other. Behind them, the veneur, deciding their dogs had more common sense than they did, fled in the same direction. In an overwhelming state of panic, Ambassador Gyin threw down his bow and left the rest of them to their fates.

  “Gyin! You coward! Get back here!” Ambassador Belkor hollered after him before turning back to face the charging monster.

  The creature was more agile than Ayrion would have guessed for something its size. It closed the distance between them with a few strong lunges. Ayrion could see it had no intention of stopping, and there was no way to stop something that large once it had built up momentum. As fast as he could, he threw himself into the king and prince, knocking them to the side as the beast barreled through the High Guard. It missed its intended target and rolled to a stop.


  Two of Ayrion’s men went down in the initial impact, trampled under the beast’s hind feet. The remaining four hacked at the creature as best they could, fighting to stay clear of its deadly reach. The bowmen quickly reset the quarrels from the ambassadors’ first volley and fired again. The bolts protruded from the creature’s thick hide, but with little to no effect. Ayrion wondered where a creature like this had managed to stay hidden.

  Ayrion ducked as the beast back-swung its right arm with tremendous force. It caught one of his guards in the chest and threw him through the air, where he landed a good ten paces away in a heap. Ayrion dove underneath its next swing and cut a deep gash along its lower arm. Rearing back in pain, the creature turned and grabbed a second guard, biting through the man’s neck and throwing his body over its shoulder before the guard had a chance to even swing his sword.

  Ayrion couldn’t believe the power the creature possessed. He had to find a way to kill it, if not for the king, then for his men. It ripped at his heart to watch those under his leadership being torn apart without being able to stop it.

  Twisting around, the creature locked eyes with Ayrion. It bared its blood-soaked fangs in defiance, letting Ayrion know his time was up.

  Ayrion saw this as an opportunity and angled himself to the left in order to draw the beast’s attention away from the king and the ambassadors. He needed to give Tolin and his lancers enough time to get into position. He watched the creature, the way it moved, the reach of its claws, and the position of its attack. As inhuman as it was, there was something about its eyes that kept drawing his attention. They were almost sad. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought the creature had no more desire to be in this battle than they did.

  Unable to determine why the monster had him so unnerved, Ayrion felt the tug of his magic and steadied himself for the attack. Sure enough, the creature dove. Ayrion spun to the side, ducking underneath the creature’s arms, and cut deep into the thick muscle of its left leg. The creature reeled in anger and caught Ayrion in the arm. Its claws tore clean through Ayrion’s leather coat and opened a nasty gash diagonally across his upper shoulder. The pain was intense, but Ayrion’s fingers remained locked in place around the hilt of his sword.