The Silver Tower (The Age of Dawn Book 3) (14 page)

“What about Blackout?” Juzo asked, his hand protectively covering its handle.

“We have to do something about it. It’s been nothing but trouble for us and you know it.”

Juzo’s shifted on the couch, his back stiffening and a scowl spreading across his face. “If you want me to give up Blackout, then you give up Stormcaller.”

“I don’t want you to give it up… I talked to Baylan. There are healers here who can remove its curse.”

“It’s not cursed!” he snapped, his hand tightening around the hilt.

“Juzo.” Walter said flatly and blew out his cheeks. “I’ve heard you talking to it, okay? Stormcaller doesn’t talk to me.”

“No, no. Why does that matter? It’s fine,” Juzo said, standing to his feet, running his tongue across his bladed teeth.

“What did Terar call you when he opened the portal, taking you in the Shiv Fang tunnels?” A cool gust swept through the chamber, twitching Bezda’s portrait, and causing the torches to sputter on the walls. The torches were shrouded in colored glass spheres, staining the walls in blue, yellow, and green, casting the hue of nightmares upon the stone.

“He—he called me the bearer of Blackout,” he said with a sigh.

“You have to be reasonable, Juzo. You’ll be able to keep the sword, we just need to break its curse.” Walter didn’t know for sure if that was the case, but he knew what had to be done. It may very well be obliterated like the Cerumal armor, but that was a chance they had to take. Juzo was changing in other ways, growing dark and brooding, like he had under the armor’s influence. Part of it could be from his horrific experience with Terar. Walter suspected the soul eating sword might have a part of it too. “Please, Juzo. Trust me,” Walter implored.

“Okay Walter. I trust you. You came back for me… I won’t forget it.” He nodded sharply, seeming to force his hand from Blackout. Juzo wasn’t one to show much in the way of emotion, but he thought he saw a little damp in his eye.

“We’ll go to the healers tomorrow. As exhausted as I am, Baylan wants me review Phoenix shields with him tonight.”

T
he moon burned
with the white of a flag of surrender, dimly illuminating the empty practice yard. The great trees leaning over the parapet surrounding the grounds of the House of Arms cast dancing shadows along the cool sand. An owl hooted in the surrounding forest and the leaves rustled with the cold wind.

The Silver Tower was a menacing vision in the evening, a bright beacon of light tearing a path in the dark sky from the tallest spire. Blue light pulsed like veins up and down the tower, glowing like the light of hope in land swashed in fear. It seemed to hum with power when he was close to it, like it was where the heart of the god’s essences lay, waiting to be unleashed.

Walter’s toes dug into the sand and his hands wound into fists, cool air tunneling through his nostrils. Baylan stood ten paces away, a sharp rock hovering in the air beside his bald head. His face looked like a corpse, deep shadows lining the hollow of his cheeks and painting his eye sockets black. The lack of hair didn’t give him a very friendly appearance, more like that of an old mercenary or soldier that had tasted too much drink.

Baylan thrust his stump at him and along with it came the rock, a blur in the dark, headed straight for his skull. Walter squinted, preparing for the explosion of light that tore through the dark, illuminating the walls with the blue glow of the Phoenix. The rock bounced harmlessly to the ground on the other side of the translucent shield. He let the shield go with a breath.

“Not bad, but you’re thinking too much. This power is like blinking a new eye. You’re thinking about the eye and then blinking. Just blink. The second of difference could mean the difference between life and death if that were a blade,” Baylan said, crossing his arms over his hollow chest.

Just like blinking a new eye, as if that were a thing that happened on occasion. Baylan surely knew more about this than he did. It had to make sense eventually, right? Walter had managed to conjure a Phoenix shield before in a pinch, but it was a tremendous effort. Baylan said it had to become as natural as breathing. The Dragon came naturally to him. It was always there, bubbling at the surface of his mind, seeking a way to relieve its incredible force.

“Ready?” Baylan said with a nod.

Something bit hard into his gut, causing him to double over, his eyes watering, seeing the same damn rock rolling across the sand. “I wasn’t ready,” he said through gritted teeth, pain coursing up into his back.

“You think the Death Spawn will wait until you’re ready then?” Baylan said, starting to pace around him. “What about The Wretched? Asebor?”

“Why even ask—” Walter cut off as the rock lurched from the ground, catching him under the chin, smashing his head back. Spittle flew from his mouth and whitish-blue light sprung from the wound under his neck, stitching the skin back together. He stumbled back a few steps, catching himself before falling over, smearing blood onto the back of his hand.

The rock hissed through the air again and he snapped his arm out, stopping it mid-flight. “Not again,” he whispered. Baylan stood in front of him, eyebrows drawing down. The rock exploded, fragments whispering pain, cutting and shredding his cheeks, forehead, and lips. Walter fell onto his back, red streaks dribbling down his face, light erupting from the wounds.

“You must develop constant awareness, Walter. Feel my energy, concentrate on the object of my focus and you will feel my intentions,” Baylan said, stepping over him and offering a hand. Walter eyed it suspiciously.

“Is this the hand of Baylan the friend or the trainer?”

“The friend, for now. I’m glad you asked,” he smiled. He waved his dark hand over Walter’s face, warmth spread across it as Baylan’s power helped to accelerate the healing. “Can’t leave you looking too messed up now.”

Walter brushed off the sand clinging to the back of his neck and beckoned to Baylan. “Let’s go, this is just starting to get fun.”

Another rock floated from the sand, big as Baylan’s head and more than adequate to squish his like a tomato. Walter pushed the thought away, slammed it down tight into an iron box, locked and bolted. The boulder lurched in the air and darted towards him, but he caught it easily enough, moonlight glinting from shimmering slivers of mica. The rock exploded and, this time, Walter was ready, shield springing before his body, stone fragments bouncing from the oval of blue light. Bits of stone crashed over his boots and dust spilled down the back of his tunic.

Something pulled at his back, a strange tingle like the one you felt when invariably a pair of eyes were staring right through you. He started to turn and a hand wrapped around his jaw, wrenching his head back and exposing his neck, something gleaming in the corner of his eye. Baylan’s dagger hovered there, his warm breath on the back of his neck.

“You are dead. My blade has tasted your veins,” Baylan whispered, releasing his hold on Walter’s neck.

“That’s shit! We never reviewed portals,” Walter cried, spinning around, his jaw clenching. The sight of Baylan’s expression made him pause, mouth half opening.

Baylan’s eyes were drawn down, narrowed with dark lines tugging at the corners. He tilted his chin up, nostrils flaring open, staring down at Walter, blade still directed at his neck. This was a side of Baylan Walter hadn’t seen close up. The killer he’d watched sink his dagger into the neck of countless Cerumal, now in front of him, stark and terrifying. This wasn’t the old sage who loved taking notes and swapping herbalism knowledge with Nyset. This was a demon, an ender of life. He knew it because it felt like he was looking into a mirror.

The dagger dropped from the air and into Baylan’s hand, sliding it into its ornate sheathe, crusted with bits of silver. “That will be for another lesson,” he exhaled, his features softening. Walter relaxed at that, seeing the killer slip away into the darkness beyond.

“I think your ability with shields is adequate for now. There’s so much to teach you and I don’t know how much time we’ll have. I’ll try to cover the most important things.”

“What do you mean you don’t know how much time we have?”

“Walter…” Baylan said, scuffing through sand, clutching his stump behind his back. “What we saw on the Plains of Dressna is only the beginning. I don’t think you have a proper grasp of how things were before the Age of Dawn. All of the major cities were laid to ruin, everything burned to the ground. The Death Spawn poured down the walls of Midgaard in great hordes, an unstoppable mass of unimaginable cruelty and death.”

Walter felt his heart race at the image that played out in his head, wanting to embrace the Dragon for comfort. The pores opened on his neck and sweat beaded through. “You say it as if you were alive then.”

Baylan looked back towards the entrance to the Tower and his eyes flitted along the great parapet. “We don’t know when Asebor will unleash his army. What we fought against was just a probe, a test to see how prepared we were. Now he likely knows you, a dual wielder of this age, exists. He will be cautious…” A bird squawked on the wall, piercing the long silence. Baylan continued, “And when he strikes, it will be devastating. He will leave no stone unturned, no human left breathing. Now do you understand my task? You must be like Milvorian steel, flexing when needed and impenetrable at the critical moment,” he said, his icy eyes white in the dim.

Walter nodded. “Okay. Whatever it takes Baylan. Whatever needs to be done I’ll do it, training day and night if I have too.” He already felt his eyes wanting to close, sore muscles begging for rest. He had to march on though. “You have to be hard, do what needs doing,” Noah had said.

“Good,” Baylan clapped Walter on the shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Now, before I teach you how to use portals, I will teach you how to detect them. Everyone feels their touch differently. Some feel it in their feet, others feel as if they’re going to be sick.”

“I felt it in my back,” Walter said, his eyes tracing Baylan’s frame, robe pulled tight around it in the wind.

“Really? I’m impressed, though I shouldn’t expect any less of you. Let’s try a few more. The portal will open behind you, roll forward when you feel it.”

Walter took a deep breath, cool air flowing in and out, calming his nerves. Baylan was putting the pressure on in a way he hadn’t before. He must be worried, and if he’s worried, I should be shitting myself. That same tingling came again, like there were ants marching in a line up his back. He fell into a forward roll towards Baylan and onto a knee, head snapping over his shoulder.

There it was behind him, shimmering blue, sand and dirt hissing as it was burned away at the edges of the portal. Baylan’s form stood there, like a mirage on the plains, waving at him. There was a portal in front of him now too, black and absorbing the light.

“What you’re seeing in front of you now is the back of the entrance of my portal.”

Walter reached a hand towards it.

“Don’t touch it!” Baylan yelled, his voice coming from both behind him and in front. “I don’t know what it does if you do. The few who have dared have endured chaotic effects, random and different each time. One wizard was transformed into a Sand Buckeye, another imploded. Best to not risk it,” Baylan said.

It was a bizarre sensation hearing his voice come from two directions simultaneously. Walter felt the hair rise on his arms. He was wise enough to trust Baylan’s word now though. He didn’t want another mishap like he had with the Cerumal armor. He had to learn to trust someone.

“Right,” he withdrew his hand and rose to his feet, turning to face Baylan and watching him through the other side of the portal. Baylan stepped through, his leg materializing in the air. Walter peered around at the portal’s entrance, seeing Baylan’s robes slip through. He turned back to the portal’s exit as Baylan fully emerged and it snapped shut, a star fizzling in the air for a second.

“It’s incredible! What you could do with this in battle… the possibilities are endless!” Walter’s eyes went wide, and he began hopping and grinning, feeling like a little boy about to open his Festival of Flames gift from his parents.

“Indeed, Walter. It does open a new avenue of creativity for many things. It is a complex spell however. I thought you might have figured out how to create one yourself after seeing me do it so many times, but you haven’t, and that’s okay,” Baylan said, rubbing his round chin.

Walter felt his forehead to his cheeks growing hot with blood. Maybe he hadn’t paid enough attention, but when Baylan was using portals, it wasn’t during times of peace. He thought it wiser to not bother arguing the point though. Walter let out a slow trickle of breath.

“As you have probably noticed, they can compress a great distance into a finger span,” Baylan said, pacing with growing excitement at discussing one of his favorite subjects. “As I’ve told you before, the greater the distance the less likely one is to emerge unscathed. In short distances, you’re unlikely to be harmed. For distances greater than a tenth of a mile, well things start to exponentially increase in risk. Compressing time and space is not a thing to be trifled with.”

Walter nodded, possibilities swirling in his mind. He needed to learn how to do this and wondered why he hadn’t begged to be taught earlier. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“The worst…” Baylan tapped his temple then burst out with hearty laughter. “The worst I had heard of was when Mumplekin, a great researcher, had turned his attention to Phoenix portals. He was experimenting with great and greater distances until he stepped out with three cocks on his face,” Baylan grinned. “It was most unfortunate as they were useless, flaccid things.”

“Now that’s enough to make me never want to step through one,” Walter scratched at his cheeks, his lips curling in disgust at the thought of a cock hanging from his face. He started wondering if the face-cocks could piss, but then dashed the thought away. “Can other people besides yourself go through a portal you’ve created?”

“Yes, as long as they can fit… remember, the edges are deadly. They disrupt the essence of anything touching it, making them potent weapons,” Baylan said, picking up a rock and hefting it in his hand. He hurled it across the practice yard, the portal snapping open ahead of it the long way, thin as a razor. The rock passed over the edge of the portal as if it were still moving through air, except it started tumbling in the air as the two separate sections rolled onto sand, cut smooth as glass.

“I remember seeing you use them against the Death Spawn on the plains,” Walter said. “Seems a bit more destructive than the Phoenix might have intended, eh?”

“I don’t presume to know the Phoenix’s intentions.” The portal winked out, leaving an afterimage of its glow in Walter’s eyes.

“I suppose it gives men a chance to defend against women if they decided to enslave us with the Dragon,” Walter said, running his fingers along the rim of Stormcaller.

“Ready for another exercise?”

“Ready,” he said, exhaustion sinking its talons deeper into his mind, twisting and scraping at his sanity.

Walter found his old friend Warrior’s Focus within reach now, easier to find when tired, when his mind stopped chattering so much. His eyes drooped a bit, relaxing and taking in Baylan, a ghost in the night. A rock pulled from the recess of the sand, hovering for a second before surging towards him.

Stopping the rock would use less of his energy than conjuring a shield and he had to preserve every ounce he had left, judging by the way this night was headed. The rock halted for a second before it erupted into a hail of shards, Walter digging deep, shield blossoming in front of his body. The light grew brighter beyond his shield and ants crawled up his back. He dove to the side, his eyes closed tight while stones like arrowheads showered through the portal behind him and stabbed into the ground in soft hisses. Walter rose onto his hands and knees, exhaling hard, blinking dust out of his eyes. The sand where he stood a second ago was dotted with tiny holes. The portal that was behind him shimmered and faded.