The White Tower (The Aldoran Chronicles: Book 1)

by Michael Wisehart

  If half of what Ty had told them was true concerning his experience in town, there was great cause for concern. The last thing they needed was for someone to recognize Ty for who he was: a wielder. The only positive outcome to having the Tower’s guards in town would be that this strange shop owner, whoever she was, might be hesitant to get involved in case they decided to take her as well.

  From the description Ty gave of her shop, with its bizarre artifacts, books, and weapons, to the desiccated heads hanging in the corner, it was pretty clear the woman leaned toward the darker side of magic and more than likely had no intention of giving the Black Watch cause to take notice.

  Every day it seemed the walls of their secrecy concerning Ty were closing in. With the Tower’s goons roaming the open streets, to this possible sorceress spotting Ty and claiming recognition, Nilla feared it was time to get the wizard involved. She wasn’t sure how much longer Easthaven would be able to safely harbor her son.

  Nilla crossed over Aldcliff and back behind a couple of the lesser frequented shops on the northwest side of Easthaven, heading for the residential district. She had left her horse tied in front of Mezard’s Chandlery and opted to tote her basket of baked goods instead of trying to direct her mare through the tight passageways between buildings on this seedier side of town.

  A stray alley cat knocked some trash from the top of a barrel, causing Nilla to jump. “Pull yourself together,” she berated as she chuckled at her own anxiety. She would be the first to admit she was a worrier, always had been.

  Being married to someone like Kellen, who rarely let anything get to him, had been both a blessing and a curse. Her husband’s calm demeanor had mellowed her over the years, but when it came to her family, calm demeanor or not, her nerves stayed on edge.

  When her parents had told her they had found her a husband, it had taken everything she had not to run away from home. The last thing she wanted was to be tied down to some big oaf who wanted nothing more than for someone to cook and clean for him. At least, at the ripe old age of fifteen, that was what she had believed marriage was supposed to be about for a woman. She blamed the misconception on her own parents.

  Her father wasn’t the kindest of men. He ran his house with a heavy hand, and a leather strap when he felt the situation called for it, which tended to be whenever he had stopped by the tavern on his way home from work.

  She remembered the first time she had seen Kellen. He was the biggest man she had ever laid eyes on. She said man, but in reality, Kellen wasn’t but a year or two older than she was. His mother had passed on when he was just a child, and his father had run out on him by the time he reached his teen years.

  Even as a young man, Kellen was the best tracker this side of Reed Marsh. His father, and his father before him, had been gamekeepers and woodsmen for the Sidaran Overlords. It ran in his blood. Along with Kellen’s inheritance of title and position came a rather large cottage with a piece of land that had been provided by the overlord to his family. As long as Kellen remained as the overlord’s gamekeeper, the property would be his to pass on to future generations.

  Well, one look at Kellen’s station in life and Nilla’s father was first in line to sell her off. Kellen had always been shy around the other young girls. He never took to the traditional view of courtship, and was normally too busy to bother. Trying to get two words out of him was like trying to wrestle a razorback off its nest. In fact, the first time the two of them had spoken was the day before their wedding. Kellen had come out to the house to see about any final preparations.

  He had pulled her off to the side, with her father’s permission, to speak with her alone. Nilla was shorter than the other young women, which made his height even more dramatic. The size of his hands frightened her. The thought of what they could do to her if he ever got upset was terrifying. She craned her neck just to look into his eyes when he spoke. His words, however, for the first time gave her hope that what awaited her was possibly not as bad as what she was expecting. He told her he wouldn’t force her to marry him if she didn’t want to.

  Looking into his eyes, she saw something she had never seen in her father’s: compassion. One look and Nilla knew she wouldn’t have said no, even if he looked like he was ready to throw her over his knee and paddle her right there. The fear of what her father would do to her if she did was more than enough for her to go through with it.

  As it turned out, it was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

  Nilla smiled as she thought about how much she loved her gentle giant of a husband, and how much he adored her. She quickened her pace as she moved along the dark lonely back alleys. The icy wind, on more than one occasion, threatened to strip her of her basket. That same wind seemed to be keeping the good citizens of Easthaven in doors, providing her with an easy road of access to the Harbor House.

  Once inside, she followed Eliab down the stone staircase toward the dark cellar below.

  “Mith Thaleena ith right thith way, Mith Nilla.” The old gatekeeper had his double crossbow tucked under his arm like a third appendage. Nilla couldn’t remember ever seeing him without it.

  Eliab stopped outside the second door on the left and knocked.

  “Just a moment,” a voice called out from the other side.

  Nilla turned at the sound of a door being opened behind her. She passed a quick glance over her shoulder in time to see Sheeva stepping into one of the guest rooms on the other side of the cellar.

  Saleena’s door opened, bringing Nilla’s attention back around. The young healer’s long, dark hair cast shadows over the extent of bruising she had suffered at the hands of the Black Watch. Fraya had managed to save her life, but she was letting Saleena’s body take care of the smaller injuries on their own.

  “Please come in,” Saleena said as she gestured for Nilla to enter.

  Eliab bowed his head to the two ladies and headed back for the staircase.

  Crossing the small room, Nilla laid her basket on the bed and pulled off the food’s protective covering. “I brought some roast venison, fresh rye, and a wedge of cheese. I hope that it’s satisfactory.” There she went to worrying again. She needed to make a mental note to hold it in check. Nilla took a seat on the edge of the bed and gestured for Saleena to join her.

  “It’s more than satisfactory, Your Ladyship.”

  “Ladyship?” Nilla laughed hard enough to draw tears. “Well, that’s the first time I’ve ever been referred to in that way. Just call me Nilla.” She pulled out the loaf of dark rye and pinched off a piece. She offered it to Saleena who then gulped it down as soon as her fingers wrapped around it.

  “Sorry . . . Miss Nilla, but Master Orlyn, he might be one of the sweetest men this side of the Angoran Mountains but he can’t cook worth a hoot, and they won’t let me out of here long enough to do it myself.” A look of horror crossed Saleena’s face. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you. I’m very grateful for everything you are doing for me.”

  Nilla chuckled as she patted the young woman on the leg. “Don’t you worry about it, I completely understand.” She almost chuckled again at having to tell someone else not to worry.

  Even sitting down, Saleena was at least a head taller than Nilla. Apart from the deep bruising, she seemed to be a fairly pretty girl. She wondered if she had anyone waiting for her back home. Then Nilla wondered if she’d ever be able to return.

  As if reading Nilla’s thoughts, Saleena asked, “How long do you think I’ll need to stay down here?”

  “As long as it takes, I guess. Now that the Black Watch believes you are dead, they will be moving on soon enough. Once they do, we’ll have to find you a new place to live, you’ll have to change your name, but most importantly, you’ll have to give up medicine.”

  Saleena’s eyes widened. “Give up medicine. I don’t think I can do that. It’s my whole life. It’s who I am.”

  “It won’t be much of a life if you’re taken to the White Tower. I’m not pretending I know all of
what goes on up there, but I have a feeling you won’t be doing much healing from your cell.”

  Saleena exhaled slowly. Her mood darkened, which showed as she relinquished her earlier appetite in exchange for simply staring at the food in front of her.

  “My dear, you have your whole life ahead of you. There will be other things to perk your interest: finding a good man, settling down, raising a family. These are all wonderfully fulfilling things. Besides, life isn’t just about having an occupation. You’ll be surprised how fast things can change. Who knows, maybe those skills of yours will be called on sooner than you think.”

  The two women finished off the rest of the food before joining the other members of the council around the long table in the next room. Most of the council was there save for Gilly, who enjoyed the solitude of his river to an overcrowded chamber, and Reloria who was too busy at her sweet shop to get away.

  Nilla took a seat next to her husband.

  After Ty’s encounter the day before, Nilla and Kellen had thought it best that Ty stay as near to home as possible for the time being. Breen and Adarra stayed behind to keep him company.

  Feoldor scratched the side of his face. “I’m telling you it’s time to contact the wizard.”

  Orlyn leaned forward in his seat on the other side of the table and glanced toward the head. “As much as I hate to admit it, I have to agree with Feoldor. We need to let the wizard know that it is no longer safe for Ty here in Easthaven.”

  “There, you see,” Feoldor said as he pointed in the apothecary’s direction, “even gray beard knows when to see reason.”

  Orlyn reached for his rune covered staff. “Call me gray beard once more, you sorry excuse for a vanti. And comb your whiskers. You look like a chipmunk.”

  “Alright, that’s enough,” Veldon said from the front, clearly not in the mood for petty banter. The portmaster nervously fiddled with the piece of flint around his neck.

  Nilla wasn’t feeling much in the mood either. Too much was at stake. It seemed like the cards were stacked against them, everything seemed to be piling up all at once. She took a deep breath. She didn’t know why she kept getting herself so worked up. Did she think they would just spend the rest of their lives in protected bliss; that the White Tower would eventually give up their search; that Overlord Barl would somehow keep the Black Watch from ever entering their city? It was a fool’s fantasy, and while it did feel good to be a fool every now and then, sooner or later you had to face reality.

  She looked up as she felt Kellen’s fingers interlock with hers. Her hand seemed so small in his. She smiled. Her husband always had a way of dispelling her worries.

  “Kellen.”

  Her husband broke eye contact with her to look at Veldon.

  “What are your thoughts? This is Ty after all. Do you believe his account of the old woman and her shop?”

  Kellen glanced at Nilla to get her response. She nodded. They didn’t need a long conversation to get their thoughts across to one another. After so many years together, a simple look was enough most of the time. “I believe him,” Kellen said. “He hasn’t given us cause to doubt his word before.”

  Veldon nodded, and then rubbed the top of his head. “Then I’d say we haven’t much choice. Nyalis told us to use the horn if we were ever in need, or felt there was an imminent danger to the boy.”

  Nilla tightened her grip on her husband’s hand as she addressed the group. “A couple of us need to check in on this woman’s shop. If she knows Ty, then it’s likely she would recognize myself or Kellen.” Nilla looked across the table at Orlyn. “Perhaps . . .”

  “No need to say anything more, “Orlyn said. “Me and Feoldor will check it out.”

  Feoldor huffed. “Oh, thanks for volunteering me.”

  Nilla cleared her throat loud enough to get the glassblower’s attention. He squirmed in his seat after their eyes locked. “Of course, I’d be only too happy to help,” he said with a slight smile. Feoldor started fiddling with the bracelet on his wrist, the one holding his transferal crystal. It was an automatic reaction to contemplating something dangerous.

  Orlyn reached into his robe and withdrew a rectangular box about the length of a man’s forearm. He placed it on the table in front of him. There didn’t appear to be a lock, or hinge, or seal of any kind. In fact, Nilla thought it looked like nothing more than a simple block of smooth wood. Apart from a couple strange symbols carved into what she figured was the top, there was nothing extraordinary about it.

  Orlyn reached for his staff. The crystal at the top radiated a vibrant green as he placed his free hand on top of the block. Nilla had been there the day Nyalis had first presented them with the magically sealed case. She listened as Orlyn repeated the same incantation the wizard had instructed them to use in order to release what was inside.

  “Vera Sintorum.”

  Nilla, along with the other members of the Easthaven Council, watched as the gold runes brightened along the outer edge of the box, revealing the shape of a lid. A latch from inside the container clicked. Orlyn released his staff and the crystal faded. With both hands he reached out and lifted the top of the box and laid it on the table. Inside was a curved horn made of ivory. The ends were gold plated. Orlyn lifted the horn, but instead of putting his lips to the instrument, he leaned forward and held it out for Kellen to take.

  “Ty is your son. It should be your choice.”

  Kellen took the beautifully sculpted artifact and studied it for a moment, turning it over in his hands. He looked at Nilla and handed her the horn. “You decide.”

  It was cool in her hands, delicate. She was suddenly inundated with doubt. Did she really want to do this? Was it truly necessary? She knew the wizard had said he would be back one day to take Ty. Did she really want to take the chance? She knew her answer. There was nothing more important than her son’s safety. She lifted the small end of the horn and pressed it to her lips. Taking a deep breath, she blew.

  The horn didn’t make so much as a peep.

  The members cast quizzical glances around the table. “What happened?” Feoldor finally asked. “Did you blow?”

  “Yes. I blew as hard as I could.”

  Kellen took the horn and examined both ends. “I don’t see any blockages.”

  Feoldor grabbed the horn from Kellen. “Oh, here, let me show you how it’s done.” He sucked in a large gulp of air and expelled it as hard as he could. His face turned red by the end of his blow. Again, nothing happened. Feoldor huffed as he shrugged his shoulders, obviously embarrassed at having done no better. He handed it back to Kellen. “Wouldn’t that be just like that old codger to give us a defective horn.”

  “What now?” Veldon asked.

  Orlyn took the instrument and placed it back inside the box. “Now we wait and see.”

  Chapter 37 | Ferrin

  FERRIN FELT A PRICK on the side of his forearm, bringing him fully awake.

  He lay there for a moment, trying to decide if what he had felt was real or just another dream from one of his occasional bouts of half-sleep. The cold wind blowing in from the one lonely arrow-slit above kept the room in a state that left him with a constant shudder—muscles tight and teeth chattering. The eerie howling it produced as it wafted through the stone’s slender opening was the only noise provided for lulling him to sleep. Rather ineffective.

  He felt it again. This time, the sharp pain was more than a simple prick. Spinning around with the opposite hand, he smacked at the source like he would at a blood gnat trying to fill its belly on his vital fluids. However, instead of a squishing sound there was a squeal as his hand wrapped around a large rat. It had apparently decided that Ferrin was more appealing than the bucket of dung sitting in the far corner of their cell. He could hardly fault its logic.

  Grabbing the head with his other hand, he snapped its neck and then threw the creature into the corner. He listened as the clanging noise of the pail let him know he had hit the mark. He smiled, reflecting on how one c
ould find humor in the simplest of things.

  “I see you finally caught our little friend,” Azriel said from his side of the room. His chains clanged against the stone floor as he struggled to lift himself into a sitting position.

  Ferrin wiped his red hair from his face. “Yes. Unfortunately for him, he mistook my arm for a serving tray.”

  “Ah, I guess he finally realized what little meat covers my bones was too tough to chew and decided to move on to greener pastures.” Azriel’s laugh turned into a fit of coughing. Ferrin made his way across the room to see if there was anything he could do to help the old seer, but Azriel waved him off with a couple flaps of his gaunt wrist. “Don’t you worry yourself over me. I’m too ornery to die.” The old man smiled as his coughing abated.

  Ferrin grunted. “Now that I can believe.” He turned back around and sat in his prickly bed of tuft straw, the only place on the cold stone that helped to ease the discomfort, and not by much.

  Ferrin watched the old man shift his weight, trying to find a more relaxed position. His back was against the wall and his legs stretched out in front. “You never did tell me why they keep you chained like that.”

  Azriel’s hand lifted on instinct to rub at the thick manacle around his neck. “Because they fear me. I’m a powerful sorcerer, after all.”

  Ferrin’s breath caught in his throat. “Really?”

  “No. What’s wrong with you? Do you think I’d still be sitting here if I was?” Azriel shook his head with a look of pity. “I thought you had a brain in that thick skull of yours.”

  No one had a talent quite like Azriel de’ Torsa for making Ferrin feel like an ignorant schoolboy. “They have me chained because not long after they brought me here, I managed to escape.”

  Ferrin’s head snapped to attention. He tried to say something but nothing came out.

  “What’s wrong with you, boy? You look like you just sucked a bad egg.”