‘Dregan,’ said Faric, ‘there are no guards here: no dogs, no sentries. From your description I would have thought even the least powerful of this inner circle would have some guards.’
Dregan blinked at him through his pain.
‘No guards?’ he gasped. ‘You are certain?’
Faric nodded.
Dregan growled. ‘We can spare no time to find out. We must go.’
‘What of the other alarms?’ Faric asked.
‘There is no time!’ snapped the mage. ‘Let us not waste whatever advantage we may have gained.’
Faric shrugged and then lifted him to his feet. Aviti felt Tyla’s hands grab her under arms and raise her. His solid presence helped her to reassert her authority over herself.
And so, they set off immediately, skirting the outside of this lesser estate. Through her remaining bleariness and disorientation, Aviti realised that this estate covered several times the area that her parents’ farm had. And what was this that she walked through? It had the feel of a plant or vegetation. The feathery touch of the lush plants unsettled her. It spoke of decadence and waste. The water that must have been lavished on this place, it could have fed all the farms in Mashesh for seasons.
They had been travelling only a few minutes when they came across the first body - a young guard, out on his patrols, lying inanimate, as if he had fallen asleep as he walked. There was no sign of a struggle, no violence had been enacted upon him; his life had simply ended.
Dregan was sure that it was a coup of sorts. One house had taken it upon itself to remove a rival. He predicted they would come across many more dead as they went. This had all the hallmarks of an annihilation and not just an assassination, he asserted. Why go to all the effort of disposing of a lowly guard with such skill, if not to make a point? Dregan’s words sickened Aviti, as they almost shone with admiration for a well-completed task; as if this murder had been a task set for him by a patron.
It was not long before they found other bodies. As before, they had been slain without violence or any sign of the cause of their death.
‘You don’t think this is all a bit convenient, do you?’ said Wist. Aviti could see that there was a passion in his eyes now, but it still slumbered behind his reticence.
Dregan looked disdainfully, ‘You are ignorant of the ways of this city. This is not your backward hovel on the edge of nowhere. This city wields power across all of the continents. Power you cannot hope to comprehend.’
‘He knows we are coming,’ Wist said. ‘This is the final piece of bait in his trap.’
‘What would you know of traps?’ spat Dregan, still breathing heavily. ‘I have ensnared some of the wisest men in all Tapasya. Do you not think I would see a trap if it were there?’
Wist shook his head in exasperation.
‘This Tilden is a powerful mage,’ said Dregan, ‘but he is a fraud. There are no ageless beings which haunt this world. I shall unmask this puppet master.’
Aviti gasped at his words. Tilden may be a fraud, but now he levelled the same accusation at Wist, and by inference at Eliscius, his own mentor.
‘After everything, you still don’t see it, do you?’ said Wist.
‘See what?’ said Dregan. ‘The display on the Rathou was illusion. I should have seen it then and so should have Eliscius. He was a fool to have allowed himself to be duped. And I was the greater fool for letting him go.’
Wist shook his head once more, but the heat in his eyes had cooled. ‘You have no idea what you are up against,’ he breathed, but he held his hand up to stop Dregan’s bitter retort. ‘This is pointless; whatever our differences, our destination and goals are the same.’ Dregan snorted then turned and walked away. Wist looked at the rest of the group. He nodded once to them, and then followed Dregan.
With the inhabitants of this House slaughtered, and no sign of who had achieved this brutal efficiency, they ran toward to the northern edge of the estate.
As they moved, Aviti watched Wist - the man that she and her brother had dragged from the edge of death. He had changed in so many ways since she had first refused to accept him, but were any of the changes for the better? And if he had changed, then what had she become? She looked to Tyla, but she had no words for him. He had shown her kindness and hope when she had lost everything.
She felt as if she was at the edge of Mashesh again, about to face the darkness of the Waren. That hopeless abandon that had taken her - perhaps that would be preferable to losing herself to the magic once more, for she could still feel it pulling at her.
They covered the remaining ground in less than an hour.
As they mounted the wall separating this estate from their goal, the glow of the impending sunrise gathered in the east. The diffuse light of pre-dawn spread over Jerel’s Tower. The land around the building lay as still and silent as that through which they had just passed.
23 - All Secrets Known
They climbed the first slope towards Jerel’s Tower as dawn broke. Jerel’s Tower was more a keep than a tower, but all Wist could see was his doom. It had buttresses and battlements; ornate carvings adorning the chamfered windows to distract the eye from its fundamental structure. But underneath it all, beneath all the distractions, there it was - a length as large as the breadth, the breadth and the height equal. All of its major dimensions were equal and the dark grey stone of its construction whispered of imprisonment and torture. The symmetry of its design brought back the images of Eliscius, broken and beaten. This was where he was. Wist had no doubts now. This was a confrontation he could not avoid, but the anger that had been building in him was snatched by the sight of the Tower.
There were no guards at all on the grounds, no sign of bodies and no signs of any violence. The estate was still and silent. Heedless, Dregan marched them on towards the keep, confident in his ability to overcome whatever Tilden had planned. Wist despaired at his hubristic attitude; it was likely to get them all killed.
Gargoyles leered down at them from their precarious positions at the edges of the roof-line. They seemed incongruous to the character of the building, as if they had been added as an afterthought; appended by a distracted architect. The closer they got to Jerel’s Tower, the more agitated Wist became.
The structure consisted of eight separate towers, four identical towers at each corner, and four evenly placed between these, in the centre of each side. The building was solidified by the recessed connecting portions between the towers. At their base, each tower had two sets of stone stairs leading up to either side of an entrance. It was a structure of simple principles and intricate execution.
Wist fought down his fear and uneasiness, and mounted the steps to the central tower that faced them. Every door was open, welcoming and passive. The Lyrats entered first, one on each side of the tower that they approached. They soon signalled for the rest of the party to follow, and they all entered into the body of the Tower. Expecting the doors to slam behind them, Wist lingered in their shadow for a while, but they never closed, remaining open to allow a little of the breeze outside to pass in. The lamps which lit the inner corridors fluttered slightly as they walked. They had been freshly lit. Perhaps Dregan would be a match for Tilden, he was certainly as arrogant.
The inside of the Tower was not as cold and oppressive as Wist had been expecting, but the damning symmetry remained. Heights and widths of corridors were matched; rooms spaced evenly along the vast corridors. No ornaments or valuables were on display, only block after block of dark stone - each precisely placed, level and straight like an obsessive’s model. Wist was surprised to see that the same stone – granite – was used in the construction of the inside of the Tower, as had been used on the outside. At least the granite felt real – flawed and imperfect with the lines of its glacial creation on show.
They searched each room on the bottom floor for any signs of Eliscius or Tilden, but there were none. That was until they reached the last room, the central room. There they found something of interest:
the body of Jerel. He had been pinned to a massive wooden table, sharp stakes driven through both hands and feet. Dregan looked apprehensive as he came upon it, but Wist felt sick as he looked at the man. Jerel had been left to bleed to death, judging by the vast pool of the crimson fluid below him on the floor. The stench from the room was unbearable, so Wist left quickly and stood with Aviti outside in the corridor.
Dregan was worried that he was wrong, Wist realised. That poor bastard has been crucified on his own furniture, and Dregan was worried that it had been an assassination by another House. Dregan was terrified that Tilden was not here. But Wist had no doubts; this murder belonged to Tilden. He knew it, he could almost taste him in the air; it was rank with death and mortification. Tilden was close now.
Dregan stormed out of the room. The mage was frantic. Sweat ran down his face and his hands shook. He seized Tyla and Nikka, and took them to search the top floor, ordering the rest of them to search the middle floor. Faric looked from Tyla to Wist as his Lyrat companion walked off. It appeared to Wist that Faric wanted to call out to Tyla, but he never made a sound.
Wist, Faric and Aviti climbed the nearest of the many square stairwells. Wist made sure he never looked back as he ascended. If he let vertigo or weakness claim him now, they were all lost. Although the middle floor mirrored the one below exactly, Wist felt his unease grow. As the three of them flitted from room to room, finding them containing nothing of interest, Wist began to feel himself pulled away from the rooms that sat in the outer wall of the Tower.
Tilden was in the central room on this floor, Wist was sure of it. With his mouth dry and palms wet, he stopped Faric and Aviti. He gestured to the door that would take them in. All that stood in their way was a simple, wooden double door. Faric pushed it open and slipped in. After a second, Aviti and Wist walked in, and there they found a table. A table with sixteen chairs each evenly spaced around it. A table made of stone and wood. A man sat alone in one of the chairs, destroying the symmetry of the room. With his arms lacerated and dripping blood on to the stone floor, Eliscius looked through them with partially closed eyes. Eliscius groaned, his head lolling to one side, revealing a face emaciated and badly bruised.
Wist forgot his reticence and ran to Eliscius’ side, holding the old man to his chest. The open wounds on Eliscius’ arms continued to bleed, dripping on to Wist’s clothes, crimson stains joining the ground-in dust from both parts of the desert. Eliscius opened his mouth to speak, but Wist held him close. Wist had to get him away from here, but where to?
‘Wist,’ said Eliscius, his voice as broken as his body. ‘Go to Medicaut. Heal the rift.’ Despite Wist’s efforts to console him, he repeated his refrain, over and over. Perhaps he thought that Wist was an aberration of his mind, or a cruel trick of Tilden’s magic.
Wist looked to Aviti and Faric who stood expectantly at the door waiting for him to act: Faric had sworn himself to Wist’s service, and Aviti felt that it was not her place to determine their next move.
‘He lies,’ said Eliscius, breaking from his repetition. ‘Bound to the Waren as he is, he believes it himself, but he lies. I have felt their dark touch upon him – despair – duality. He is not-’ Wist looked back at Eliscius as his voice faltered. They had to move him now. As much as it appalled him to harm Eliscius further, they needed to lift him. They had to get out of here before Tilden returned.
As if summoned by thought, Tilden appeared beside one of the doors, and walked into the room, small crystals of ice scattered amongst his hair, lying like frosting on a child’s treat. With a negligent flick of his hand, Aviti and Faric were forced to kneel, subdued by an immense, formless pressure. Faric struggled against the force holding him, but his efforts were futile and he soon fell still.
Tilden smirked and gestured for Wist to take a seat at the table, the same table from his visions… the same room, the same table and the same chairs. Had Tilden allowed him to glimpse this to goad him, to show him the futility of his choices?
‘Sit,’ said Tilden, motioning to the chairs once more. He shimmered once, as if he had become more substantial. Droplets of water ran from his hair, falling to the floor. ‘Please,’ he purred with mock civility.
Wist looked to his companions. They were in no condition to argue. He could make a lunge for Tilden by himself now, but he knew he would consign them all to death if he did. He had no weapon, and Tilden’s displays of dark magic had made it clear that he was no longer a match for him, and so Wist released Eliscius. It pained him to abandon his friend to his suffering, but he could do nothing to lift the burden of pain from him. So he walked to the table.
As he went to claim a seat beside him, three chairs slid out from the table; one across from Eliscius and one on each of the vacant sides. Tilden wanted the companions separated. Wist thought about defying him, but his reasons for doing so would have been childish; it would not help Eliscius or himself. He needed to bide his time, so he swept aside his anguish and took his place to Eliscius’ left.
Feeling their invisible restraints released, Aviti and Faric joined Wist at the table. As they were seated, he saw Aviti grunt involuntarily. His companions were restrained once more.
Where were the others? He needed Dregan. Wist thought of shouting to them, but before he could cry out, Eliscius spoke, ‘The Waren have lied to you Tilden. You are not -’. Tilden growled and a dagger appeared in his hand. And then he pulled Eliscius’ head back and, without a glimmer of remorse or a single word spoken, he pushed the dagger deep into the soft hanging flesh of Eliscius’ neck. In one smooth motion, he pulled it along his throat.
Eliscius was too weak to hold his hands up to his severed gullet. Blood only seeped from the wound as if he had already been drained of the majority of his life. He spluttered and tried to cough away the fluid that was filling his lungs, but it was a futile gesture. He had spoken his last words. Wist screamed as life left Eliscius.
Pain shot through Wist. It started at his hands and shot around his body, lancing like trails of lightning through his body – searing his shattered nerves. The building shuddered violently, as if the ground empathised with his pain, and Tilden smiled, pleased with what he had achieved.
Tilden released Eliscius, and his body slumped in the chair. He was the only man who had ever had faith in Wist, believed that Wist could make himself more than he was. He had come to Mashesh with nothing and Eliscius had given him a chance. Wist screamed again at Tilden and started to rise. He would throw himself at the bastard now, he decided. Consequences were forgotten; it was time to end this.
‘Sit down,’ spat Tilden contemptuously. A massive force pinned Wist back into his chair. He railed against it, but it was useless, the ties that bound him here were more than physical. Tilden observed him, resting against a wall, his hands together in front of him, fingers splayed - touching each other.
‘You are so predictable,’ said Tilden, the emotion washed from his voice. ‘You and the rabble you drag about with you.
‘Pathetic,’ he pointed at Aviti, ‘and broken,’ he inclined his head at Faric. ‘Where are the rest of them?’
Wist snarled at him. He had been passive when his father had been taken from him, he would not make the same mistake again. ‘Damn you, what do you want?’ asked Wist. ‘If you still want to know how I got here, I can’t help you. I wouldn’t tell you even if I knew.’ His defiance was a hollow bluster.
‘You think that is what this is all about?’ laughed Tilden. ‘You have no answers for me now. I know the truth. I can recall it - all of it. There is nothing hidden from me now, brother.’
Tilden’s final word echoed in Wist’s mind…Brother? He had no brother. The word triggered no thoughts in his mind - no visions of home were released. Was it a slip of the tongue?
‘What then?’ Wist asked ‘What do you want?’
‘You always were slow, weren’t you?’ taunted Tilden. He shook his head slowly. ‘You really don’t remember, do you?’
‘Remember what, damn it
?’ Wist replied. The only thing he could think of was to play for time and hope that Dregan could save them. If Wist could just find the spark to ignite his anger once more then … Then what he asked himself. Wist swallowed his revulsion and sorrow, and went on, ‘I’m so sick of the lies and stories. Just tell me the truth.’
Tilden laughed aloud. ‘The truth? You have spent your entire life running away from it, and now he says it’s the only thing he wants.
‘Maggot!’ Tilden shouted, his free hand coming down on the edge of the table with a thunderous slap. ‘It sickens me to think I used to look up to you, brother.’
There it was again. Brother. The word hit Wist hard, but nothing rose to the surface in the swirling pool of his thoughts. Wist swallowed what he hoped was the last of his fear and asked the question he needed to.
‘Brother?’ said Wist. ‘I have no brother. I have no family at all.’ Wist looked again at Eliscius, but the sight of his befouled body was more than he could stomach.
‘No family?’ Tilden repeated. ‘You talk to me of having no family? I have walked as a ghost amongst the darkest places this world has to offer, since your act of treachery bound me here.
‘Three hundred years of waiting,’ said Tilden, his green eyes aflame with a devious hatred, ‘Three hundred years of imprisonment.’ He was struggling to keep himself under control. Tilden took a breath and stepped back from the table. Wist caught a glimpse of Faric, whose eyes flicked from Tilden to the door that sat closed behind Wist.
‘You are my brother,’ said Tilden, ‘though it pains me to admit it. My twin brother – my gaoler and my tormentor.’ Wist shook his head. This wasn’t right, none of it was right.
‘I never knew it either,’ Tilden smiled humourlessly. ‘Not until you sent me to hell. You dragged me here and then left me helpless.
‘That’s right, said Tilden, as he returned to the table like a preacher bestowing eternal damnation upon his congregation, ‘you brought us both here. Then, you abandoned me.’ Dark memories from Wist’s subdued past stirred, like slumbering leviathans, the ripples that they sent out refracted through Wist’s embattled mind. Had he sentenced his brother to a shadow existence?
The Redemption of Wist Boxed Set: Books 1 - 3: The complete collection Page 29