The White Tower (The Aldoran Chronicles: Book 1)

by Michael Wisehart

  A soft rumble of agreement passed through the ranks as the king, having finished speaking, turned and left.

  “A moving speech, Your Majesty,” Ambassador Lanmiere remarked. He had a sling wrapped around his arm.

  “No more than they deserve.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Ayrion caught sight of a group of men exiting the forest. He recognized them as the search party that had been sent to find Ambassador Gyin. Those in the hunting party quickly gathered to hear their report. The sergeant dismounted and approached, bowing to the king.

  “Your Majesty, we found the Keldoran Ambassador. Unfortunately, it appears the creatures found him first. He must have run right into them as they were preparing their surprise attack from behind. We collected what little we found to return to his family for burial.”

  The king lowered his head. “I feared as much.”

  The sergeant bowed again and stepped away in the direction of his men.

  “This isn’t going to sit well with Overlord Meyrose. I will need to send a dispatch to him as soon as we get back.”

  The prince spoke up. “It might also be prudent to leave out the details of the ambassador’s overabundance of self-preservation.”

  “Self-preservation?” Belkor spat. “The man was a spineless coward and a glutton to boot. He got what he deserved, if you ask me.”

  The king’s eyes flared. “Then I guess it’s good we’re not asking you, Belkor, and as much as I hate to admit the rather distasteful manner in which Ambassador Gyin behaved, I agree with the prince. For the sake of peace, I will merely declare him as one of the many fallen during the battle.”

  “Your Majesty,” Tolin said with a slight bow of his head as he waited to see if he was interrupting anything important. When Rhydan turned around, the commander continued. “The lancers are ready to escort you back to Aramoor, sire. I’d prefer not to get caught out here after dark.”

  Rhydan nodded. “I couldn’t agree more, Commander.”

  It was dark before Ayrion and what was left of the hunting party rode back through the palace gates.

  They were met by the queen and her staff as she anxiously waited for her husband’s safe return. Not able to hide the urgency of her steps, the queen strode across the courtyard, her head high and face calm. Her eyes scanned the king’s body. “Are you injured, my lord?” His blood-stained garments clearly not escaping her attention.

  “Nothing worthy of song,” Rhydan said as he reined his horse in.

  “And how is my precious son?” Ellise asked as she took a moment to study Dakaran.

  He was halfway off his horse before the animal had come to a complete stop. “He’s alive, if barely,” Darkaran offered with a strong note of agitation before turning and stomping off toward the palace.

  Ellise offered a relieved smile. She turned to her husband and placed a hand on his leg.

  “If I had known you’d be so passionate over my returning,” Rhydan said, “I’d try being gone more often.” The king dismounted and engulfed his queen in a full embrace.

  “I save it for times when I am in deep distress over your safety, my lord. Don’t expect such treatment every time you leave my sight.” She pulled out of his arms to inspect him once again. “You are truly well, then?”

  “I am, and it is truly good to be home.”

  “And it is good to have you home, dearest.”

  “There were many who were not as fortunate I’m afraid.”

  “They died protecting you, their king. There could be no greater honor.” She linked arms with her husband and led him toward the palace entrance, “Come inside, I’ll have some hot water drawn and you can tell me all about it.”

  Ayrion was about to help Tolin unload their fallen when he felt the cold chill of a pair of eyes watching him. He turned to find Amarysia standing at the outer edge of the courtyard. Her posture was stiff and she appeared apprehensive as she curled a strand of her blonde hair around her fingers.

  When she saw him acknowledge her presence, she rushed over and threw her arms around him. “I was so worried. As soon as the lancer sergeant delivered his message to the queen about your attack, I feared the worst.”

  Ayrion held her embrace for a moment before pulling away and glancing over his shoulder to see if anyone had been watching. His cheeks flushed at such an outright show of affection in front of the king’s soldiers. As much as he enjoyed having her arms wrapped around him and her head pressed against his chest, he couldn’t allow himself to be caught up in the emotion of it all. He was the Guardian Protector, after all, and with that responsibility came a strong sense of obligation to maintain a proper decorum. A warrior just didn’t go running around grabbing women in the middle of his duties.

  “I told you there’s no need to worry about me.”

  “How can I help it, Ayrion, when I know you as I do? If there is fighting, you’re going to be in the middle of it, and that brings me a terrible amount of unease.”

  It warmed him to know how much she cared. But duty came first. “You better catch up with the others before the queen sees you’re missing. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Amarysia sighed. “Ever the soldier. You know, for once it’d be nice if you’d act like a normal man.” She reached out and laid her hand on Ayrion’s arm before hiking her skirt and taking off across the lower courtyard.

  Ayrion watched her fall into the back of the small processional as it made its way toward the southwest pavilion, passing through a row of covered colonnades directly connected to the palace. Once she had moved beyond sight, he turned and walked over to the wagons where Commander Tolin was busy directing the unloading of their men.

  Tolin cast a wary eye in Ayrion’s direction. “Do you ever get that uneasy feeling like the stars are out of alignment?”

  “Not until recently.” Ayrion moved alongside his former mentor and watched the lancers lift the bodies of their fallen off the wagon beds and lay them in neat rows across the lower bailey for their families to claim. White sheets were placed respectfully over each. Ayrion, suffering from a sudden bout of melancholy, thought they looked like white caterpillars, all lined in a row waiting for their cocoons to open, but knowing they never would.

  “I don’t know what it is, but something in my bones is telling me we haven’t seen the last of this.”

  Ayrion breathed in the cold night air and released. He felt the same.

  Chapter 29 | Valtor

  VALTOR’S CHAMBER DOORS flew open, swinging backwards and smacking against the adjoining wall.

  The Arch Chancellor, who was once again behind his mixing table pouring a dark bubbling liquid into a small glass vial while struggling to keep his red sleeves from dipping into the dirty concoction, flinched and spilled part of the contents across the top of the worn hickory, very near where he had placed his mitre. There was a slight hissing noise as the liquid ate through the wood, leaving behind a somewhat distasteful odor.

  Valtor didn’t need a seer to know what was coming. He had already been anticipating it. He lowered the tube back into its tray and watched as the prince crossed the room. Dakaran’s sword was gripped firmly in his right hand. His eyes were fierce. “Ah, Your Highness,” Valtor said with a nervous bow. “I’m glad you’re alright, I feared the worst.” Valtor slowly retreated toward the back wall as the prince headed directly for him.

  “Are you, Valtor?” Dakaran seethed. “Are you glad I’m alright, or are you disappointed I managed to survive?” Dakaran raised his blade to Valtor’s throat, forcing him against the cold stone.

  Valtor gulped. He feigned a look of distress. Not an emotion he generally showed, so he wasn’t sure how well he was pulling it off. “What’s all this about, Your Highness?”

  “You know good and well what this is about, you maggot! I was almost mauled to death by three creatures that looked to have come straight out of the Pits of Aran’gal.”

  Valtor tried to appear horrified, the words flowing from his mouth with enough lubric
ant to maintain a dung-hauler’s wagon wheel. “What does that have to do with me, Your Highness? I . . . I don’t understand why you would think I had anything to do with it.”

  “It has everything to do with you!” Dakaran spat. He pressed the blade tighter.

  Valtor felt the pinch of its edge drawing blood, but he restrained from killing the prince on the spot. As much as he would have liked to choke the life from him, he needed Dakaran.

  “At first, I thought I was dreaming. Monsters as tall as a single story home, living in the woods just outside of Aramoor, and no one knows anything about it? How is that possible? Then I remembered a certain book of drawings I had found on your shelf the other day. Those creatures looked pretty flaming similar!” Dakaran leaned forward, their noses practically touching. Valtor could taste the prince’s earlier meal on his breath. Surprisingly enough, there was no hint of wine. “Now you better give me an explanation to alleviate my misgivings or I’m going to let this blade slip.” The prince’s grin was soaked in bloodlust. “And I suggest you hurry, because after what I’ve just been through, my arm isn’t feeling so secure.”

  Valtor swallowed. His act wasn’t doing the job. For the first time in a long time, Dakaran was as sober as a Wengoby Priest. His eyes were no longer cloudy, but on fire. A different, more direct, tactic was required. One he had hoped not to resort to. He would rather the prince come around on his own without having to resort to compulsion, but right now, Valtor needed to calm the man down before he did something stupid like try to slit Valtor’s throat. “Alright, I admit it. It was me. I conjured the creatures when I heard the king was taking the ambassadors on a hunting trip and the Guardian Protector was going to be joining them. After our last encounter, you made it quite clear that you wanted the guardian and your father gone, so I—”

  Dakaran pushed his elbow against Valtor’s chest. “Ayrion, yes, but I said nothing about trying to kill my father. Let alone me!”

  “How was I supposed to know you would be going on the hunt? Honestly, when was the last time you and your father did anything together? By the time I found out you were going, it was already too late.”

  Dakaran loosened his grip, slightly.

  Valtor opened himself up to his magic and let the compulsion gently caress the prince’s thoughts, steering his general desires. It was a trick he had learned from the grimoire he had recovered in the Purging Chamber. He hadn’t quite mastered its uses, but to some small degree, he was able to manipulate another’s emotions depending on how strong, or, in this case, how weak their will was. Lucky for him, Dakaran wasn’t exactly known for his strength, although at the moment, the prince’s temper was making it rather difficult to push through.

  The sword retracted a few inches from Valtor’s neck, but Dakaran didn’t lower it altogether.

  Valtor needed the prince to let go of whatever ties of loyalty were still holding him to his father. The pieces were falling into place, and in order to make the next move, Valtor needed Rhydan gone and Dakaran holding the crown. “Do you want to be king or not?” Valtor asked. He could see the hesitancy in the prince’s eyes. He was obviously going to need more persuading.

  Valtor rubbed his neck where the sword had been and his hand came away with a smear of blood. He stroked the back of Dakaran’s mind, letting his magic worm its way inside to coax a directed response. “You know that as long as he is alive, your father will never turn over his throne to you. The kingdom grows weaker by the day. I know you see it. Rhydan’s an idealist. He believes that everyone should be equal under the law.” Valtor chuckled. “Can you believe that? You, the prince, equal to a common fisherman, or carpenter, or bricklayer. If your father were to get his way, the people would be ruling themselves.

  “Aldor needs a new king, Dakaran, a king with an open mind, one willing to see and embrace the benefits of change, and not run from them. Aldor doesn’t need a king stuck on antiquated traditions set up by men who haven’t been around in centuries. Our world is changing, and so should we.” Valtor longed for that change every day.

  Dakaran’s posture relaxed as Valtor’s magic embedded itself.

  “Elondria needs strength. Just look at the way Cylmar mocks us by pillaging our borders. Every day, Overlord Saryn grows bolder. And your father does nothing. He is seen as weak.” Of course, Valtor knew all too well that Rhydan was anything but weak, which was why Valtor was focusing his efforts on shaping the king’s drunkard of a son instead. “Pretty soon the other kingdoms are going to rise up and we are going to be pushed into the sea.

  “Elondria doesn’t need an idealist, they need a leader. They need someone like you, Dakaran. Someone who can see the problems and not be afraid to do what is necessary to correct them.” If there was one thing Valtor knew that Dakaran enjoyed hearing, it was his own praise.

  Dakaran took a step back, running his hand through his light auburn hair and tucking one side behind his ear. “I don’t know. This is all happening a little too fast.”

  “Not fast enough,” Valtor sneered. “If you want to implement change, you need to make those standing in its way, move.” He waited to see if his words were sinking in. “We had a plan, a way to bring the kingdoms of Aldor back under one rule, starting with Cylmar. You know that. That’s why this meeting with Ambassador Belkor is so important. We’re going to need to rely on Overlord Saryn’s greed if you plan on taking your rightful place as High King.” Valtor continued to press the prince’s mind. He could feel Dakaran’s grip slipping. “Cylmar is a kingdom under oppression, ruled by a tyrant. They are looking for a benevolent leader to direct them down a different course.” Valtor smiled. “Who better than you?”

  Dakaran stared at the floor in silence, lost in thought. Finally, as if in answer to Valtor’s urging, he took a step back and sheathed his sword, allowing Valtor to finally breathe a little deeper.

  Dakaran was halfway to the door when Valtor stopped him. “Oh, by the way, how did our good friend Ambassador Belkor fare? I trust he wasn’t too grievously wounded, was he? I would hate for that to affect our meeting tomorrow.”

  “Belkor’s fine. He’s one of the few who managed to walk away without so much as a scratch. But after what happened today, I have no idea as to his state of mind. I guess we’ll find out tomorrow night if and when he shows up, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

  The prince left, not bothering to close the doors behind him. Valtor rested his hand on the top of the table and smiled. Even with the setback of losing three of his Shak’tor, things were progressing. The compulsion had worked better than he had expected. Dakaran’s jealousy over Ayrion’s relationship with his father was proving quite the effective tool.

  Chapter 30 | Ellise

  ONE LOOK AT the state of her husband and the queen demanded as many buckets of hot water as the servants could carry. He was covered from head to toe in sweat, soil, and blood. If it had been up to him, Rhydan would have plopped right down in their bed, bloody clothes and all, and fallen right to sleep. Ellise wasn’t about to let that happen. Besides, she still had no idea what had occurred on his hunt and she knew it would be better to discuss it while it was still fresh on his mind, that way she could allay any of the worries he had about the horrible incident.

  She helped Rhydan remove his clothes as the servants filled the large washing pool in the center of the room. It had been built directly into the floor during the palace’s reconstruction after the Great Wizard Wars. It was one of her favorite amenities.

  Centuries ago when magic was still permitted, the open pipes on the far end of the square tub had allowed for the use of running water as opposed to the strenuous, time-consuming effort of carrying heated buckets from one side of the palace to the other.

  Rhydan started down the marble steps into the foaming water and promptly began to dance around. “What are you trying to do to me woman, cook me alive?”

  “Hush your whining, you old goat, there isn’t enough hot water in all of Aramoor to soften you up. You’re about
as tender as old boot leather.”

  The amber light from the candles she had instructed the servants to place randomly around their ornate washroom reflected off the marble flooring, adding a warm ambiance to the soporific mood. She hoped the warm bath, the soft light, and the aroma of mint from the eucalyptus she had placed in his water would lessen some of the day’s burdens. He always enjoyed the mint baths, even though he’d never openly admit it.

  Rhydan grunted at the remark, but soon whimpered as he eased into the tub. Foam poured over the sides and onto the slick floor. A moan of satisfaction escaped his lips. Ellise allowed a small smile of triumph. She took her seat on the cushioned stool in the corner, giving her husband a chance to unwind his body and clear his mind.

  After offering him sufficient time to get settled into the tub, she leaned forward. “Start from the beginning, dear.”

  Having overcome the initial shock of the heated water, Rhydan rested his arms on the sides and leaned his head back against a folded towel that had been placed on the floor just behind him. He closed his eyes and divulged the events of the day, starting with the opening hunt, to the first appearance of the creatures, and the ensuing battle for their lives. He told of the heroism of his men, the remarkable feats of the Guardian Protector, even the sad outcome of the poor Keldoran Ambassador. He didn’t withhold a single gory detail from his telling.

  Throughout the entire presentation, Ellise listened carefully, never interrupting. She soaked it all in. Not until her husband had finished his last sentence did she finally respond, and even then, it wasn’t without due reflection. The line of discussion she wished to open was one she knew would incense him. In this point, unlike all others, her husband had always been content to bury his head in the sand. She knew how much it disturbed him to speak of such matters, but after what had happened today, they were well beyond the point of simply ignoring it.