The White Tower (The Aldoran Chronicles: Book 1)

by Michael Wisehart

  “Precisely.”

  Belkor’s jovial demeanor dissipated. “Are you mad? Cylmar would have no hope of winning in an open conflict with Elondria. Why would we ever agree to something so foolish?”

  “Because, unlike your overlord, my father feels it his duty to attend any major battle fought by Elondrian forces. So it won’t have to be a full scale assault, just enough to draw my father in.” Dakaran casually leaned back in his chair. “From there, I have a select group of lancers who are loyal only to me, and would like to see a few favors sent their way whilst I’m on the throne.”

  Belkor leaned forward in his seat. “In other words, a group of mercenaries you’ve paid off to do your dirty work, is that it?”

  “Like I said, you don’t beat around the bush.”

  “You are correct. I prefer plain speech. So here’s mine. If Cylmar has to bear the brunt of this agreement, by laying its people’s lives on the line for your ascension to the throne, then we will want more than just the mining rights. We will want the Black Hills themselves.”

  Dakaran bolted forward in his chair. “You can’t be serious! I will not give away a piece of Elondria as a bargaining chip!”

  “Wake up, boy! How did you think this was going to work? That we were going to send our armies over here to get slaughtered just so you could claim your daddy’s crown, then what, trust you’d be generous enough to let us cut some rocks out of your mountains in exchange?”

  Impulsive fool! Dakaran is going to blow this entire endeavor before it even gets started. Valtor reached over and put a hand on the prince’s arm, holding him back from losing it altogether. “It is an intriguing proposal, Ambassador Belkor,” Valtor offered. “His Highness will give you his answer before you break for home.”

  Belkor relaxed. “It had better be hurried. I’m planning on leaving at first light.”

  Valtor rose. “We thank you for your time, Ambassador, and wish you a pleasant night’s rest.”

  “One can only hope,” Belkor grumbled. “Until tomorrow, Your Highness?” The ambassador nodded as he left the room.

  Dakaran’s glare was fierce. “Don’t ever treat me like that again!”

  Valtor bowed. Quit acting like a spoiled toddler and I won’t have to. “I apologize, Your Highness, but the ambassador has a point. It will be Cylmar who has the most invested in this endeavor. It will be their right to demand what they will. And of course, yours as to whether you want to accept it.”

  Dakaran regained what little composure he had. “What is your advice?”

  Valtor yawned. “My advice is to go get some sleep.”

  Dakaran looked at him like he was crazy.

  “Ultimately, none of it is going to matter, Your Highness. Once we see this through, there will no longer be a Cylmar to worry about. So if we need to placate Overlord Saryn for the moment, then that is exactly what we do. We offer him our hand in peace so he doesn’t notice the other one stabbing him in the back.” Valtor smiled and bowed. “Rest well, Your Highness.”

  The next morning came all too quickly as Belkor’s small escort of armsmen readied themselves for the rough trip west to Cylmar. The ambassador had just settled onto his horse when a palace courier rode across the courtyard, angling in his direction. The young boy lifted a tri-folded parchment, sealed with the prince’s stamp.

  Valtor stood in the shadows of one of the second floor balconies and watched as Belkor promptly tore open the wax and unfolded the letter. The ambassador’s eyes scanned the short document. The corners of his mouth curled upward as he read.

  Chapter 44 | Lyessa

  LYESSA STRUGGLED TO catch her breath as she turned to face her attacker. She might have been the overlord’s daughter, but that did nothing to stave off the determination in her opponent’s eyes.

  Sweat from her brow streamed down the side of her face and was flung into the air with every swift move of her head. Her long red hair was tied back to keep from blocking her view. Senses alert, she circled. The man towered over her lean frame like a giant bent on devouring her whole, but instead of a thick wooden club, he wielded a wicked looking rapier.

  Pieces of her outfit lay open, revealing a number of exposed lacerations where her blood had stained through the material.

  He lunged.

  Lyessa managed to dive out of the way just as the sharp steel flew past, missing the side of her arm. She rolled, and let the forward motion help lift her back to her feet as she spun around to meet the next strike. Her arms felt too heavy to lift and her chest was on fire, every breath a battle. She didn’t know how much longer she could hold off his attack.

  She made the mistake of looking into his eyes. They were hard, cold, and unblinking. He was a man committed to finishing his goal, and that frightened her more than anything. She continued to circle. Her short-sword hung loosely from her hand. She wasn’t sure if she had the strength to heft it one last time. She dug deep, drawing from her well of determination one last cold drop.

  Pulling her eyes away from his, she watched and waited. She struggled to read the movement of the muscles in his thick arms. His broad shoulders and bare chest warned of the coming foray.

  She waited until she saw it. There it is, she thought, the twitching in his upper right shoulder. He was going to attack from the right. Bracing herself, she carried her sword low, trying to give him a false sense of security, a belief that she was too exhausted to raise her blade to an appropriate height. If only he knew how close to the truth that really was.

  He attacked, right arm swinging in a cross-cutting fashion.

  His sword angled for her head, but she had already anticipated the move and brought her own steel up to deflect it away. He swung again and she countered. His moves were precise. Hers were floundering. She would never beat him with the sword. He was too fast, too experienced. Then it hit her. Don’t use it.

  She waited for his attack. She blocked twice, each time his sword coming a little closer to her body. She took a half-step to the left, telegraphing her move and giving him cause to think she was striking from that side. His body automatically went into a defensive stance as he brought his sword around. But instead of swinging her blade, Lyessa did something no fighter in armed combat should ever do. She dropped to her back on the ground in front of him.

  Leveraging all her weight into a single kick to the front of both his shins, she rolled to the side as the big man’s legs were ripped out from under him and he came crashing down beside her. Before he had time to roll, she had her blade across the back of his neck, held at the ready.

  “I yield, I yield!” he said.

  She flipped him over. His eyes seemed to show no remorse, no fear, not even the smallest sense of anxiety.

  Pulling her blade away, she stood to her feet.

  Beside her, the big man cautiously rose, planted his sword tip-down in the dirt, and without warning, reached out and engulfed her in his arms. “I’m proud of you.”

  Lyessa closed her eyes and smiled. It was a wonderful feeling.

  All around the courtyard, many of the servants and staff were clapping and cheering. No one clapped as hard as her father, or donned a more satisfied smile, unless, of course, you counted her sparring partner. Darryk released her from his grip. “By the powers, girl, I do believe your old man couldn’t have done a better job.” She beamed with pride at his words. Darryk had been her instructor since she was old enough to hold a blade. With no brothers to eventually take over as man of the house, her father had been determined to make sure Lyessa was ready for the duty.

  As if on cue, Lord Barl strode across the open courtyard and wrapped a proud arm around her shoulders, pulling her in tight. Lyessa tucked her head under his chin while laying her cheek against his chest, a favorite spot of hers since she was a little girl sitting in his lap. “You make your father proud, my daughter.” He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “One day, you’ll thank me for putting you through all of this. Sidara needs a strong leader, and you’re smarter a
nd stronger than any son your mother might have had if she had lived longer. I wouldn’t trade you for the world.” He kissed the top of her head and then wrinkled his nose. “Now go get a bath. You stink.”

  Darryk made no effort to hide the amusement inspired by her father’s statement.

  “What are you laughing at, you old grizzly?” her father said, sniffing the air. “You smell worse than she does.”

  “Hey now, I don’t smell that bad.” Darryk raised his arm and took a whiff. “There you see, sweet as honeycakes.”

  Her father grimaced before turning his attention back to her. “Besides, we have guests to entertain this afternoon. You might want to take some time to freshen up.”

  “Oh, and who might that be?”

  “I’ve asked our gamekeeper and his two boys over to discuss the troubling reports of dead animals in the woods.”

  Lyessa’s head lifted. She released her grip around her father’s waist and took a step back. “They’re coming here?” That meant Ty was going to be there. She felt a sudden flush in her cheeks at the thought.

  “Yes, why do you think I mentioned the bath?” He smiled and shook his head.

  “And you’re just telling me this now?” What was he thinking? He’s a man, she bemoaned, they don’t think.

  “And see that Gina bandages you good and proper, you hear,” her father said after taking in the rips and gashes dotting the front and sides of her leathers. “We don’t want you bleeding all over our company.”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  Making a swift retreat toward the back patio doors, Lyessa glanced down at her state of dress. It was going to take hours to get herself ready. It was times like these when she wished her mother were still alive, not that she didn’t wish it all the time, but there were occasions like right now when she could have used her advice.

  Before she had managed to reach the double doors leading into her father’s study, she could hear him calling out behind her. “And have one of the servants tell Aiden, if he’s even awake yet, that it would be nice if he were there for this meeting as well.” She waved her hand, letting him know that she had heard him, before slipping inside. Waking Master Lethargic up, she mused, now that’s a chore I’d never want.

  She was tired of her father trying to marry her off. She was her own woman. If she ever decided she wanted to marry, it would be for love and not for political maneuvering. At least, she dreamed it would be.

  Closing the doors to her chambers, Lyessa began leaving a trail of garb all the way to her washroom. She could hear Gina riffling around in her changing room, no doubt reorganizing her dresses once again. “Gina, I need your help.”

  “I already have your bath prepared, Miss Lyessa,” the elderly amah said from the other room.

  “Good.” Lyessa pulled off the rest of her underclothes and dropped them on the floor.

  “Child, what have they done to you?” Her nanny stood in the doorway staring at all the new bruises and cuts lining Lyessa’s chest, arms, and back. “I’m gonna have to have another talk with that father of yours,” she said with a disapproving click of her tongue as she placed both fists to hips.

  “I’m fine, Gina. It’s not as bad as it looks.” Lyessa smiled at the old woman. Gina had been her nursemaid and nanny since birth. Although, apart from the years Gina had spent in Easthaven, Lyessa didn’t know much about her amah’s past. Gina didn’t speak of it and Lyessa had never wanted to pry. She did know that Gina came from one of the Blue Islands off the southern coast of Briston. Every now and then, Lyessa would catch a hint of Gina’s natural accent bleeding through.

  “Well, you better get that pale little backside of yours into that bath before I turn it on your head.” Gina stood there holding one hand over her nose.

  “Hey, my backside is neither pale nor little.” Lyessa twisted around to get a look at her naked rump. “It’s just firm and . . . and not very dark.” To Gina, all Sidarans were pale compared to the naturally tanned skin of her island upbringing.

  Slumping her shoulders, Lyessa took Gina’s advice and climbed into the tub, letting the warm water ease the pain and tension she felt in her throbbing shoulders, back, arms, legs, and every other part of her body.

  She released a stiff moan and let her head rest against the back of the rim. “Gina, what does it feel like to fall in love?”

  “Child, you are too young to be talking about love.”

  Lyessa opened her eyes. “I’m eighteen, a grown woman. What better time is there?”

  Gina stopped her fiddling. “I guess you are. Sometimes it’s hard to think of you as all grown up. Seems like just yesterday you were running around here causing all kinds of ruckus. Oh, wait,” she said with a snicker, “that was yesterday.” Lyessa splashed some of her water at the old woman. “Yep, time just keeps rolling right on by, it does, leaving poor old Gina here to watch it go.”

  “Gina, you still haven’t told me what it’s like. Does it leave you kind of dizzy and lightheaded?”

  “I guess it can,” Gina said as she pulled up a stool and started washing Lyessa’s thick head of red curls. “It can leave you breathless, make you feel all giddy inside when you’re around him. Sure sign to tell when a girl’s in love, though, is the giggles.” Lyessa craned her neck around. “Yep, when a girl starts a giggling for no good reason, you can just bet she’s got herself a fella.

  Lyessa smiled at the thought. “It must be wonderful.”

  “What’s that, child?”

  “To be able to marry for love. To spend the rest of your life with someone who actually likes you. To wake every morning in each other’s arms.” She wrapped her arms around her naked body as if trying to emulate the feeling.

  “Yes, it is,” the old woman agreed. “I remember my Tomas. We had a love to fill two lifetimes.” Lyessa tilted her head back in time to see her nanny wipe at a tear before it had time to run.

  “I’m sorry, Gina. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “Upset me, sweet child? No, not upset. Me and Tomas had forty-three wonderful years together, couldn’t ask the good Creator for more than that.”

  “I don’t love Aiden, you know.” She felt her nanny stop tugging at her tangled strands.

  “Well, sometimes marriage isn’t about what you want or what makes you happy, it’s about what’s good for everyone else. In your case, honey, unfortunately, it’s about what’s good for Sidara.”

  “But why can’t it be both? I want to marry someone who loves me. Someone who can make me feel—” She sighed. “Oh, who am I kidding? It was only ever a dream.”

  Her amah patted her sympathetically on the shoulder before stepping into the other room to find her a gown to wear.

  That was all Lyessa had ever sought. She wanted what her mother and father had, and what Gina had. The only boy she had ever had any kind of feelings for was Ty, and those weren’t exactly the kind of feelings she had been discussing. At least, she didn’t think they were. When she thought about Ty, other words sprang to mind, like annoying, aggravating, or conniving.

  He was cute, though. There were times when she had caught herself watching him in class as he tried to study. His face would get all tense in an adorable sort of way when he couldn’t figure something out; however, taking an interest in one of his personal quirks didn’t mean she liked him or anything. Besides, he always knew exactly what to say to get under her skin. He could be a real bull-headed lout sometimes. The more she thought about their tug-o-war relationship, the higher the corners of her mouth curled.

  She remembered the look on his face when she had arrived at Performance Night on Aiden’s arm. She had seen it in his eyes, the trollish-green hint of jealousy. That above everything else had made her heart soar and her pulse race.

  “Which of these dresses will you be wanting to wear, Miss Lyessa?”

  Lyessa never even paused to think. “The green one.”

  Chapter 45 | Ty

  THE LAST FEW DAYS had come and gone with a speed that
had taken Ty by surprise. Before he knew it, the week was almost over and he found himself sitting atop Waddle as they trotted down River Street.

  Flanked on both sides by his brother and father, Ty managed a quick glance down Wood Lane as they passed. His eyes naturally slid to the dark alley beside the spice merchant where he had encountered the scary old woman’s deadly trinket shop.

  Was he expecting to see the old lady just standing there waiting for him? He didn’t know. The council was supposed to send someone to check out his story. He wondered if the old woman was even still there or if having been discovered, she had moved on. Somehow, he doubted it.

  A few miles north of town they crossed back into the Sidaran Forest. The abundance of life within the trees breathed a fresh sense of vigor into Ty’s spirit. There was something different about it though, a hint of danger that had been growing over the last couple of weeks. Ty wasn’t sure what it was. He couldn’t help but wonder if the change of mood was merely a manifestation of his own fears at learning that the White Tower was looking for him, or if it was something else.

  Turning east, his father led them down a dirt lane that cut further back into the surrounding woods in the direction of the East River. The road eventually opened into a large clearing which held an extensive estate that Ty could have only described as a palace, or at least as close as his imagination would take him, having never actually seen one before.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d seen the overlord’s estate, at least from a distance. When Ty was younger, he had thought to play a prank on Lyessa, but didn’t make it out of the surrounding woods before a couple of the Sidaran lancers on patrol had nabbed him. It had been a little more than embarrassing for him and his family, especially when his father had been the one to have to retrieve him. He hoped the overlord had forgotten about that.

  The main building was at least four stories in height. Its white stone glistened as the sun peeked out from behind another cloud. Fronting the main house was a well-kept garden, equipped with fountains, pebbled paths, and strange birds with large feathery tails. Each bird stood on a pair of legs that looked to be nothing more than two painted sticks.