The Gray Tower Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Alesha Escobar

  A quiet anger built up inside me as I watched his Boetheos laugh in mockery. My Boetheos either shook their heads or tried to ignore the embarrassed young man. I approached him and offered my hand, but he appeared afraid to take it.

  “You do him no favors by coddling him.” Hotaru gestured for the young man to get up and stand aside.

  “Silly me,” I said, grabbing the abandoned sword. “I thought that in training, when someone yielded, that was the end of it. Apparently you like to watch people suffer.”

  His lips curved into a smile. “I just like to watch people squirm.”

  I answered with a thrust of my sword, and he parried. The Boetheos gasped and then gathered around in a semi-circle, while Drago just watched us. “Today my Boetheos are going to learn how to beat a coward,” I said.

  He snorted. “I’m not going to spar with you.”

  I smacked him on the side of his face with the flat side of the practice sword. “Afraid you’ll lose?”

  He positioned his athletic body in a defensive stance, holding his sword vertically. I made a downward swinging cut to his right leg and he parried. When he countered with a vertical strike, I blocked it and targeted his left leg. After a few more exchanges, I feinted another leg strike, but then rotated the blade and struck him in his side. He made a low hiss, but didn’t lose his composure. I breathed heavily through clenched teeth as I thought about Ken and those other people he had murdered. I positioned myself and watched him, hoping he’d make another move so I could have an excuse to beat him to a pulp.

  He came in with a few aggressive strikes, but I had let my anger overcome me, and he easily closed in and disarmed me. I retaliated by kicking him in the groin and striking his wrist with the blade of my left hand, sending his practice sword clattering to the ground. He made a quick jab and I swerved to evade it, almost losing my balance. He lurched forward and tackled me, and I sank my fingernails into his face with enough ferocity to make him cry out in pain.

  “Enough!” Drago didn’t approach, and he didn’t have to. His voice boomed toward us and demanded immediate obedience.

  Drawing in deep breaths, I got to my feet and stepped away from Hotaru, and approached the Tower Armsman. “Drago, I wanted--”

  “Don’t care. We train on this field. Take your outside spats where they belong. Is that understood, Apprentice?”

  “Yes, sir.” I knew better than to press the issue with Drago.

  “Hotaru is right,” he said aloud to the Boetheos. “Will a warlock ask you if his spell has hit you too hard and apologize? A Cruenti will drink your blood and tear your head off before you can cry for your mama. And have you even seen a Black Wolf? Those sons of bitches are ugly!”

  Both my and Hotaru’s Boetheos stood there in stunned silence. One of the girls gathered her courage and asked, “Then...why haven’t we trained with our magic, here, in the training grounds? We’ve just been doing swordplay without any magic use.”

  Drago motioned southward. “If I asked you to run all the way over to the old Gray Tower and back here, to the fencepost, would you be out of breath? Tired?”

  She gulped. “Yes, Mr. Moretti.”

  “Well, your magic use requires energy, and just as you can strain yourself physically, you can strain yourself magically.” He faced me. “Apprentice, how many times have you suffered exhaustion or skull-splitting headaches because you pushed yourself doing too many spells or very powerful ones?”

  I cleared my throat. “More than I care to count.”

  “And how did you defend yourself when your hands were shaking and you couldn’t cast a spell?”

  “I’ve used weapons and hand-to-hand combat. Most of all, I used my brains.”

  Drago gave a satisfied nod. “The biggest mistake young wizards make is that they jump into trouble, thinking they can throw around a few spells and emerge victorious. It’s my job to teach you otherwise, and, hopefully, how to not get yourselves killed so easily.” He turned to face me. “Isabella, this is your first time supervising Boetheos and you’ve already managed to irritate me. Go take a break, and dismiss your Boetheos for lunch.”

  I gave him a stiff nod and then motioned for my group to follow me. “Let’s go eat.” I turned, one last time, to see Hotaru, despite the red welts on his face, flash a smug smile in my direction. All I could think of was how, very soon, I’d wipe that smirk right off his face.

  My mood lightened somewhat when I joined Bianca at a corner table, in the eating area, at the kitchens. I tuned out the hustle and bustle of clattering plates and silverware, of the chorus of voices, and just focused on my beef stew and Bianca’s chatter.

  “Kiaran walked me down to the garden today,” she said with a grin. She wore her black hair in deep waves and had a glittering red brooch attached to her shirt collar to add flair to her Practitioner’s uniform.

  “Who’s Kiaran?” I took a sip from my glass of water.

  “Kiaran Luka...the English professor. The one they brought in from the University of Prague.”

  I half-smiled. “You like normal guys. Good for you.”

  “Oh, I think he was just being nice.” Even as she said this, she wore a pleased expression.

  “How are your studies?” I asked.

  “Anastasio is training me. I guess, when he’s not doing security checks, he works under Dr. Lan.”

  When Bianca first tested at the Tower, she showed the most strength with body magic, though they told her she had some abilities of a Philosopher. I supposed my deep-seated dislike of Philosophers had rubbed off on her, because she abruptly turned away from anything having to do with Philosopher training and ended up cultivating her nature magic. I tried assuring her that I wouldn’t like her any less if she chose to be a Philosopher, and that there were several Philosophers I did like and respect, but she detected my underlying bitterness and steered clear of it. I had shared with her about my family’s difficulties with my father, a Philosopher, and I trusted her enough to tell her about him being tracked and hunted--but of course I held back the fact that he was merely a decoy and took the fall to protect me.

  Cliff Wright and another Boetheo approached our table. “They ran out of coffee.” He handed me a cold beer.

  “Thanks.” I motioned for them to join us.

  “Looks like leading a group of Boetheos has its perks,” Bianca said.

  Cliff spoke up. “All of us were talking about how you went up against Elite Kimura today. Now those are the kinds of moves I want to learn. You should’ve hit him with a spell!”

  “I doubt that would’ve gone over well with Drago,” I said. “Besides, what’s the first thing he teaches you about combat?”

  Cliff sighed. “Rely on yourself.”

  I nodded. Drago always made sure we understood that having magical abilities didn’t make us better fighters, or any less vulnerable. Even though I hated how he had sided with Hotaru, everything he said was true. There had been many times when fighting with magic drained me physically, or wasn’t worth a damn against a more powerful warlock. And, there were always imperium collars.

  “Your friend doesn’t speak much.” Bianca swept her long, dark bang to the side and glanced at the young man sitting with Cliff. He regarded her with a neutral look.

  “His name’s Sadik, and he said he’s from Turkey. He’s a mute.”

  “Then how do you know his name and where he’s from?” I asked.

  “He’s a mentalist...and I’m a Philosopher. Well, at least, we’re going to be one day.”

  “You don’t speak at all, Sadik?” Bianca eyed him with concern, probably wondering why the Gray Tower bothered with a mute.

  Cliff answered, “Where he came from, his family didn’t like the idea of a wizard in their house. They didn’t treat him right. Now you know it’s bad when your own family just sends you off to a Tower recruiter. Maybe he’ll speak when he’s ready.”

  “Sorry to hear that.” I gave Sadik a sympathetic glance, especially when I noticed some sc
arring on his left ear and the left side of his neck.

  A loud voice rang across the spacious eating area. “Kitchen Boetheos, you’re done serving! Go to the training grounds, before Drago drags you out there. The rest of you lot, report to your Elites.” Joran Macaskill watched the Boetheos clear the floor and exit.

  Joran had on his Elite uniform coat, but the buttons were undone. He must’ve thrown on the coat on his way over from the dungeon and would probably slide out of it once he went back. He looked like he could be Drago’s son with his stern face, barrel chest, and brawny build. Cliff and Sadik almost ducked beneath the table when Joran spotted them and headed toward us.

  “Hi, Joran.” Bianca rose from her seat. “I was just on my way out with these two.”

  Cliff and Sadik stood to join her. “See you around, Isabella--” he glanced at Joran and corrected himself “I mean, Apprentice.”

  “Bye, Cliff.”

  When the three left the eating area, Joran stared at me, and I could tell that he sensed something was off. “Master Pedraic wants to see you. Now.”

  I knew he’d contact me. I hoped that Serafino was already aware of the failing enchantment and that I needed it fortified as soon as possible. “Okay.”

  I stood and was just about to head for the exit, when I saw the Master Alchemist approach. Her red hair hung in a side braid and she wore a black sheath dress. She must’ve come directly to us from the outside if she wasn’t yet in uniform. She walked with stiffness in her step, and her eyes betrayed exhaustion. I hoped that she had destroyed as many Black Wolves as possible while on assignment for the Tower. Joran tore his inquisitive gaze from me to see Cathana Erin approach. When Joran saw her face, strained with fatigue, he frowned and stepped toward her--but then remembered that I still stood there, watching them, and instead, folded his hands behind his back.

  “Master Erin,” he said with a slight bow.

  She acknowledged him with a quick nod and then faced me. “It’s good to see you again, Isabella,” she said in her Irish accent. “I apologize for being away, and hope you were of use to Master Bazyli and the Boetheos. We will begin your advanced alchemy lessons soon.”

  “Take your time, Master Erin.” My gaze went between her and Joran.

  When Joran saw that I wasn’t moving, he jabbed his thumb in the direction of the exit. “Master Pedraic. Now.”

  Master Serafino Pedraic sat behind his desk, signing letters and talking with the Vatican ambassador, Father Gabriel di Crocifissa. A Boetheo sat in the far corner, at a table with a large book open and standing upright in front of him. The book shielded him from the view of the two men. From my vantage point, I could see the young man nestling his head in his folded arms and sleeping. The hardwood floor creaked beneath my feet and caught the attention of Serafino and Father Gabriel, and the Master Wizard gestured for me to come and take a seat.

  Like the other Masters who had permanent lodgings at the Tower, a door connected his study to his personal apartments. The office space alone spanned larger than my flat back in London, and years of occupation, visitors, and travels had decorated the walls with tribal masks and prized artifacts. A large window stood behind Serafino’s desk, and the curtains were drawn to let the sunshine in.

  I took my seat and said hello to Serafino, and then faced Father Gabriel. “Hi, Father. How has your stay at the Tower been?”

  “Very hospitable, Isabella.” Father Gabriel wore his black cassock and Roman collar. I wondered if the Tower allowed him to carry around his silver sword.

  “You two are acquainted with each other?” Serafino asked as he sealed his letters. His clear blue eyes watched me.

  “I met Father Gabriel in Paris, back in June. He actually helped me bring down the laboratory that created the alchemical Plague.”

  “Imagine that,” Serafino said. “The Vatican sends a warrior priest in to destroy Octavian’s brother, and now he’s here at the Gray Tower. What will they think of next?”

  Father Gabriel smiled. “I look forward to learning more about the Gray Tower, Master Pedraic.”

  Serafino rapped his knuckles on his desk to grab the attention of his Boetheo in the corner, but the young man didn’t respond. “Indeed, Father Gabriel. I, for one, have always appreciated the relationship between the Church and the Order of Wizards. Did you know that we honor your Albertus Magnus as a great medieval wizard?”

  Gabriel arched an eyebrow. “Do you mean Saint Albert the Great?”

  Serafino faced me. “They want to own everything, don’t they? Albert the Great was a fine alchemist.”

  Father Gabriel had the abilities of an elemental wizard, but the Tower had never trained him. He believed that his powers were a gift from God, and he only used them for a specific purpose. Although the Tower contained members and visitors from various cultural and philosophical backgrounds, including religious, the Order of Wizards took a pluralistic approach to the question of religion and forbade proselytization on Tower grounds.

  I turned and grinned at Father Gabriel. “I hope you continue to enjoy your stay.”

  “Thank you,” he said with a wry smile.

  Serafino threw a paperweight toward the corner with the sleeping Boetheo. There was a thud, and the young man’s head popped up. “Yes, Master Pedraic?”

  Serafino beckoned him forward. “Boetheo means someone running to help in Greek--behold what King Christian of Denmark sends me.”

  The young man smoothed his sweater and approached Serafino. “I apologize, Master.”

  Serafino presented him the sealed letters. “Two hundred years ago, you would’ve been strung up in the dungeon for such dereliction.”

  “We use the term ‘holding cells’ now,” I whispered to Father Gabriel with a smirk.

  “Take these letters to the post office, Theodore.” The young man bowed and scurried toward the door. “And, this is for His Holiness, the pope.” He handed the final letter to the priest.

  “It will reach his hands as soon as possible.” Gabriel inclined his head and then turned to face me. He shook my hand and gave a warm smile before heading out with the letter.

  I stared at Serafino. “You...look just the way I remember you. I used Veit Heilwig’s diary to unlock those buried memories.”

  He smiled, but it faded. “Yes, I’m all gray now and my wrinkles have deepened, and my heart is heavy, my dear. Needless to say, we need to fortify the enchantment tonight. It was dangerous for you to come here with it so weakened.”

  “I really didn’t have a choice. How are you going to help my father? The trackers are gaining on him each day.”

  “Your father charged us with protecting you, not him. He made that very clear.”

  I bit my lower lip and thought about Neal and the others probably cornering him in Cairo. “So you’re just going to let the trackers hunt him down and kill him?”

  “I’d prefer not, but then we both know who they’re truly after.”

  “How many of you are there?”

  “Us?”

  “Who actually don’t want to see my head on a platter?”

  “Not enough to turn the tide.”

  “Then maybe that’s what we need to work on.”

  He paused, and then appraised me. “The other Master Wizards--”

  “Many of them will stay with what they know. I understand. But what about the Elites and Apprentices? Maybe we can start with them.”

  “If we had time, then yes. For now...” he shook his head. “Let’s take care of the enchantment. Meet me in the top room of the old Tower tonight at midnight.”

  “Fine. And there’s one more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “Hotaru Kimura. He murdered U.S. servicemen while tracking my father. He also attacked me. He needs to be held accountable for what he’s done.”

  He grimaced. “I told Master Priya to be mindful of who he chose to work with. Brande Drahomir has alerted me to the situation, and I’ve restricted Elite Kimura from leaving Tower grounds befo
re our inquiry is complete. Was there anything else you needed?”

  I shook my head. “I’ll be at the Tower tonight. Thanks.”

  “Then I’ll see you at midnight, Isabella.”

  40

  I supervised my Boetheos as they continued training throughout the afternoon, and felt more comfortable in their presence since, as Practitioners, they couldn’t sense anything out of the ordinary about me. However, when I handed them over to the Elites, who’d be teaching the Boetheos in their particular disciplines, that’s when I received raised eyebrows and inquiries about my odd magical aura. I gave a quick explanation about the Confrontation and gladly accepted the task of escorting Cliff back to Master Bazyli, who’d be training him as a Philosopher. If fewer alchemists had been admitted this year, as Dr. Lan said, then the number of Philosopher recruits had gone down even more.

  When we made it back to room number three in the Grand Hall, Bazyli sat at his desk in the corner, sipping from a hot mug of tea brought from the kitchens. He peered at us through his gray bushy brows and greeted us when we entered. I braced myself for his prying questions, but they never came. I began to wonder why.

  “Today, we’ll work on our Words, Cliff.” Bazyli drained his cup further before abandoning it.

  I remained quiet and hovered near the doorway, as if keeping my distance would somehow lessen the impact of my aura. I wanted to see, for a few moments, what it was like to start at the beginning, when learning to speak Words. Serafino said that the Order honored Albertus Magnus for his alchemy, and it also venerated Plato for his contribution of Huperouranios Topos--the Place Beyond Heaven. This was where the Philosophers believed the incorrupt essence of everything in existence dwelled, and because of the existence of these True Forms, everything (and everyone) thus had a True Name. When Philosophers spoke Words, they were invoking the True Name of persons, actions, objects and ideas.