All of the men looked downright savage.
His father turned to Breen. “Get the weapons.”
Breen disappeared back inside the house as the big horseman turned and said something to the men riding behind him. Ty didn’t recognize a single word. Whatever the man had said, it brought a round of laughter from some of the closest. They appeared to be staring at the women. Ty didn’t like the implications.
Barl turned to Ty’s father. “Do you recognize their dress?” He kept his words low so as not to be heard from across the way.
“Their wraps are similar to those of tribal Northmen.”
“Tallosians?” his mother asked. Ty could hear the tremor in her voice.
“Aye,” Barl agreed, “and judging by their size, I’d say that’s a safe bet.”
“You can tell all that just by looking at the furry cloaks?” Ty asked.
“That’s not fur, son,” Barl said, sparing a quick glance his way.
Aiden took a step forward. “Looks like fur to me.” For once, Ty had to agree.
Barl kept his eyes on the horsemen. “It’s not fur. It’s human scalps.”
Ty’s mouth dropped open. Not quite as far as Aiden’s, but far enough to feel embarrassed.
“Tallosians believe that the scalps of their enemies will give them greater cunning and skill in battle,” Ty’s father said. “They believe it will pass to them through their victim’s flesh. Some use it as a mark of their prowess. It’s a sign of rank. The more scalps, the stronger the warrior must be. Their women go crazy for that sort of thing, evidently,” he said with a smirk. Ty’s mother grunted her clear objection. Ty didn’t want to think about what kind of women they must be when the sight of desiccated flesh brought arousal.
His father turned back to the company of armed horsemen. “The question is what could they possibly want with us?”
Barl cleared his throat and took a step forward. “What is your business here?” When he didn’t receive a reply, he continued. “Do you know who I am?”
The big man at the front hocked a couple of times and spat a large wad out in front of his horse, then wiped his mouth. “An overfed, underbred sow by the look of it!” the man said in a very broken form of Aldoran. A couple of the Northmen burst into laughter. Many of them didn’t appear to understand what their leader had just said, but after watching the reaction of their fellow warriors, they followed along.
“I am Overlord Barl!” Lyessa’s father looked none too happy. His white-knuckled fingers were balled tight. “I demand to know what you want!” With thirty to forty armed men looking like they’d rather eat you than talk to you, Ty didn’t think that demanding was the best way to start.
The lead Tallosian held Lord Barl’s gaze, but remained silent. Ty caught Breen’s movements out of the corner of his eye and turned his head. His brother slowly slid his way out the front door. He was clearly trying not to draw attention to himself. Casting a quick glance behind him, Ty could see he had three strung bows resting to the left of the entry, along with their arrows, a few swords, and one belt of throwing knives. Ty figured the other brace of knives was hidden somewhere underneath his brother’s cloak.
“We want the boy!” came a haggard reply from somewhere behind the horsemen. Ty spun back. The voice sounded eerily familiar.
“What boy? What are you talking about?” Lord Barl and those gathered around passed curious glances at one another, while Ty’s family attempted to feign ignorance.
An unpleasant feeling rose in the pit of Ty’s stomach, much the way it did when you first realize you’ve just eaten a bad pick of mushrooms—nauseous, irksome, and dreading what came next.
The cluster of savage looking men parted right down the middle and a lone rider, cloaked in a black robe with hood pulled tight so as not to show their features, trotted forward. The rider was small by comparison as they passed between the enormous savages, like traversing a mountain pass or walking through a great citadel, sheer walls rising to either side.
Ty gulped. He didn’t need to see her face to know who was behind the dark cowl. His resolve disappeared in an instant and his last bit of courage ran screaming, leaving him there cowering behind the others just hoping to remain unseen. He slowly slid to his left behind Aiden and then hung his head in shame for doing so.
The hooded figure came to a halt beside the large spokesman and, with an outraised arm, pointed her bony finger in Ty’s direction. “We want him!” Ty peeked around Aiden’s decorative waist coat.
Aiden’s face drained of blood as he lifted a quivering finger and pointed at his chest. “Me?” he asked, his voice cracking like a puberty-ridden adolescent. “You want me?” The others turned to look at Aiden.
“Not you! You overdressed peacock!” She pointed again. “You!”
Aiden moved aside with an excessive amount of spring in his step as the rest of their group turned to look at Ty. He didn’t move. He couldn’t. He was doing everything he could just to keep his bladder from leaking down the front of his trousers. She had found him. The scary old woman hadn’t left after all.
There was no way his family could have stood against all those men. Ty was suddenly feeling very thankful for the overlord’s presence at that moment. At least that gave them a few seasoned fighters to help defend against such unbeatable odds.
“We have been searching for you for sixteen years, boy, and then one day, poof, just like magic, you up and walk right into my shop. You recognize your work?” She pulled back the arm of her robe and held out her hand for everyone to see the melted disfigurement.
“What is she talking about, Ty?” Lyessa asked.
Ty didn’t exactly know what to say without revealing more than he should. He had a feeling it wasn’t going to matter. The old hag was bound to spill his secret anyway.
Ty’s father didn’t give him a chance to answer as he turned and addressed the old woman. “Who are we? You said we have been searching.”
There was a brief pause before the old woman answered. “The White Tower, of course.”
A wheeze escaped Ty’s lips as he felt his last ounce of hope vanish into the cold air. She wasn’t hiding from the White Tower; she was the White Tower. What was going on? Wasn’t the White Tower supposed to be arresting wielders? How was it that she was working with them?
Ty’s father took a step in his direction and placed an arm around Ty’s shoulders. “There’s no way in the Pits of Aran’gal, witch, that you or any member of the White Tower is going to get your hands on my son.”
“What’s this about, Kellen?” Barl asked. His father didn’t answer, his eyes focused on Mangora.
Behind him, Ty could see his brother move back into the doorway and rest his hand on the grip of his bow.
The robed figure removed her hood. The shriveled features were quite unmistakable. “My name is Mangora.” she called out across the yard with a wicked smile, “and he does not belong to you.”
Lyessa’s head cocked to the side. “What is she talking about?”
Ty didn’t respond, more out of shock than anything.
“He most certainly does belong to us!” his mother stated defensively, her hands on her hips. “We raised him, fed him, clothed him, and loved him. That makes him ours in my book.”
“Foolish woman, do you even know who or what he is?”
What he is? What kind of a question is that? From the looks Ty was getting from those standing around, he began to feel like one of the oddities you pay to see at the traveling circus. For a couple of coppers, you could take a gander at the strange hairy woman, or the man with two heads, or the little boy with six fingers and toes. His favorite had always been the weird owl-man who could turn his head almost all the way around.
Ty always worried that if people found out about what he could do, he would end up like one of those sad performers, traveling from town to town while people forked out their hard-earned coinage to gawk, and stare, and laugh at the freaks.
At that moment, T
y could think of no place he would rather be.
“From the pathetic look on your face, I see that you do.” Mangora leaned back in her saddle. “I take it Nyalis told you all about our young faeling.”
Ty’s head shot up. “Faeling? What’s a faeling?”
“Ah, so he didn’t tell you everything.” Mangora started to cackle. “Wizards aren’t exactly in the habit of sharing information. They tend to be a little too tight-lipped for their own good. And on the rare occasion one does open up, it generally comes out more in half-truths and riddles than anything else.
“He told us enough,” Ty’s father said.
“Did he now? So then you know how dangerous the boy could be to us all?” Lord Barl now stared at Ty as well. “He needs to be kept under constant supervision for his sake and ours,” she said. “The White Tower has the means to make that happen. It’s the only safe place for him to be.”
“The Defiler it is!” His father’s voice quivered with emotion. “Your White Tower is nothing more than an elaborate ruse. A lie! All it seeks is power. I know why you want my son. The same reason why you’ve been rounding up every other wielder you can get your dirty hands on. The Tower isn’t about ridding the world of the ven’ae, at least not anymore. It’s about using them, manipulating them, taking their essence for its own dark purposes. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say your Arch Chancellor was looking to start a war.” Mangora’s smile bled loathing. “Know this, witch,” Ty’s father continued, “we will not let that happen, even if we have to go to the High King himself.”
“Oh my, I see you haven’t heard.” Mangora raised a shriveled hand to her mouth. “But of course you haven’t, how silly of me, living way out here so far from civilization and all. King Rhydan is dead! And the Kingdom of Cylmar is now under the authority of the High Throne.” Lord Barl looked as though he was going to choke. “Even now His Highness, Prince Dakaran, is being coronated. He will be your new king.”
It took a while for what she had said to process, but his father finally broke the silence. “There are still those of us out here willing to fight.”
“Oh, I take it you are referring to your wielder coalition? They are being dealt with, I assure you. Even as we speak, our bulradoer have laid a trap for your little council here in Easthaven. I assume they haven’t much longer for this world.” Her laugh was brittle and sharp.
Ty could feel his father’s arm shaking where it was wrapped around Ty’s shoulders. He wasn’t used to seeing his father angry, let alone enraged. Ty’s father was generally a soft spoken man, but you messed with his family or his friends and it was like grabbing a horned dragon by the tail, if there was such a thing as a horned dragon.
“What council in Easthaven? What’s going on here, Kellen?” Lord Barl had remained surprisingly quiet throughout the conversation. Ty figured he was still trying to soak in the news of the High King’s death. Lyessa’s father, even though a decent sort of man, was still against open wielding. He had never taken harsh action against those wielders in Sidara, but he had made it clear it would not be tolerated within city limits.
“It’s nothing, milord,” Kellen said. “Something we can discuss at a later time . . . if there is a later time,” he added under his breath.
It didn’t take magic to see where this was going. Tension was building on both sides as Ty watched the horsemen begin to finger their cleavers, axes, hammers, and flails, each with a whetted appetite in their eyes as they anticipated the upcoming bloodshed.
The strange masks the Tallosian savages wore were made from pieces of bone and other objects Ty couldn’t describe. It was a chilling sight. Their long, matted hair braided halfway down their backs made them look more rabid animal than human.
“We only want the boy. Turn him over and I’ll let the rest of you live,” Mangora said as the big Northman beside her released the strap on his battle-axe.
“Like anyone actually believes that’s going to happen,” Adarra said under her breath, drawing a few uneasy glances. “What?” She shrugged. “It’s true. They’re not going to leave here without Ty, and we’re not going to let them leave here with him. Seems pretty obvious to me.”
Barl shifted nervously as his fingers caressed the jeweled hilt of his longsword.
A deathly silence swept across the open yard in front of the small cottage. The wind rustled, and a few dead leaves blew diagonally across the ground between the two opposing forces.
To everyone’s amazement, it was Aiden who made the first move. But instead of ripping out his sword with a screaming battle cry of, “You’ll have to go through me first,” he launched himself on Ty and tried to forcibly drag him forward. “Quit being so selfish, Ty! Can’t you see it’s the only way to save the rest of us?”
Those gathered around were so in shock that for the moment no one moved. “My lord!” Aiden called to Lyessa’s father. “Tell him! Do it to save your daughter! Do it to save—” Before he could finish the sentence, a gloved fist caught him square in the face and knocked him clean off his feet.
Holding his now bloody nose and whimpering through the oncoming tears, Aiden looked up to see a fiery redhead staring down at him. Lyessa sneered. “You coward!” She shook her hand from where she had punched him. “What kind of man are you?”
The Tallosians on the other side of the yard burst into laughter at the sight of a slender young woman knocking a grown man off his feet.
Their leader turned to Mangora. “I want her as part of my payment.” His words might have been difficult to understand, but the look on his face was all too clear.
Mangora cackled. “You fulfill your duties, Baeldor, and she’s yours.”
The Northman shifted in his saddle, the leather creaking as he did. “No one touches fire-hair but me,” he said, using his hands to help relay his message.
“You touch my daughter and I’ll take your head!” Barl snapped. His hand lifted his sword halfway from its scabbard. Ty’s mother grabbed hold of Adarra and Lyessa and pulled them back toward the open doorway. Aiden quickly followed, evidently wanting to make sure the women were fully protected. Ty was half-tempted to follow suit if it wouldn’t have meant giving up every last bit of dignity he still clung to.
“What will it be then?” Mangora asked. “These men grow impatient. I can’t hold them back forever, especially after seeing such a demonstration of the womenfolk you have here.” Her smile was repulsive. “You can either turn the boy over and I let you live, or not, and I let them do what they do best.” She pointed her disfigured hand in their direction. “The choice is yours.”
Ty couldn’t let this happen. As much as he detested Aiden, he was right. He couldn’t just let his entire family be murdered because of him. And before he could talk himself out of it, he stepped forward. “If it will mean saving all of you, then I’m willing to go with them.”
“Over my dead body you will!” his father said as he grabbed Ty by the shoulder and forcibly pulled him back. “Now shut up and get behind me! That wizard said if the White Tower were to get their hands on you, it would be the end of us all. And if you think for one moment that that witch will live up to her word, then you’re about as brainless as a bog toad.”
Kellen turned to Barl. “Milord, I apologize for getting you and your daughter into the middle of this.”
“I still don’t understand what I’m in the middle of. But one thing’s for sure, I’ll be hanged before I let these savages lay a hand on any of my people.” The overlord drew his sword the rest of the way. The overarching tree of the Sidaran crest was etched in gold across the lower third of the steel. It was a weapon worthy of the High Lord of Sidara.
“You’ve made your choice!” Mangora called from the other side of the yard. “Pity, I would have so liked to have given you a personal tour of the White Tower. Let you spend some quality time with our inquisitors. Oh well, guess we can’t have everything.” She turned to look at the large Northman sitting across from her. “Don’t damage the boy. T
he chancellor wants him unspoiled.”
There was hunger in Baeldor’s eyes as he stared at those gathered in front of the house. “What about the rest?”
Mangora smiled. “Kill them!
Chapter 83 | Ty
TY HEARD THE BUZZ of a bow string behind him and felt the wind of an arrow fly past his ear. He knew its intended target, and, like their father, Breen never missed.
Mangora didn’t flinch.
She swiped her hand across her face and the shaft veered past her and into one of the horsemen just behind. The masked man glanced down at the fletching end of the shaft protruding from his neck. A gurgling cough escaped his mouth before he dropped from his horse.
Even from across the yard, Ty could see fury in the witch’s eyes. She raised her hand and a ball of flame appeared. The blood drained from Ty’s face. Mangora had the ability to call fire like he did. And she was no doubt more experienced.
“You had your chance!” she stated with a slight hint of mockery before she released the deadly blaze in the direction of their front line. The lancers dove out of the way, some leaping in front of Lord Barl, as the flames burst across the ground between them.
Ty tried summoning his own fire but nothing happened. He was so flustered, he couldn’t even think straight. He watched as Mangora raised her hand again. In a state of panic, he lashed out with the one bit of magic he knew he could rely on and pushed a single thought into every animal within a hundred paces—Jump!
His quick thinking saved them as Mangora’s horse, along with all the Northmen’s, leaped into the air. Half the men were still trying to get out of their saddles to make ready for the charge. Riders were thrown all over the ground. Those that managed to retain their reins fought to keep their mounts from trampling those underneath.
Run! The horses immediately obeyed his voice and stampeded toward the road, dragging a few of their riders along with them.
“Nice trick,” Breen said as he rushed past with an armful of weapons. He tossed Ty his bow and sword on the way by.
The White Tower (The Aldoran Chronicles: Book 1) Page 57