The Silver Tower (The Age of Dawn Book 3) (4 page)

Walter winced at his friend’s stump, recalling how the Cerumal armor he foolishly donned had dealt that crippling blow. Another casualty of the onslaught that seemed to be Walter’s life. He glanced at Nyset, taking in her clear skin and engaging light eyes, swimming like under-brewed elixir.

“Interesting,” Nyset said, tapping a finger on her soft lips. Soft and a pleasure to kiss, Walter thought. He wasn’t sure if it was the elixir or the conversation, but the banging in his head started to fade and the world seemed to come into focus, sharper and more full of color.

“There are other wards too, wards that can kill, like traps,” Baylan said. “I believe the Cerumal armor is warded against removal, likely placed there by a powerful wizard.” Baylan rubbed at the curved bit of flesh that was once his hand. Walter’s cheeks reddened, shame creeping up from his gut to his eyes.

Juzo nodded. “I’ve seen one of those before. The Master…” Juzo coughed, pulling hard on his hair with a growl.

“Juzo… it’s okay,” Nyset said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

He nodded sharply. “Terar taught me how to see them. There was one where he—where he kept me, he called it a glyph,” he said, wiping dampness from his weeping eye.

“Ah yes, another name,” Baylan said.

“It had two big circles, and within them a pattern of letters that looked like A’s. He said it was poisonous, some type of cloud.”

“A toxic cloud ward trap I would guess,” Baylan said, flipping open his notebook and scratching away with his quill.

“Could you draw it for me?” Baylan said eagerly, sliding the notebook to Juzo.

“Sure, I can do that,” Juzo accepted the quill, lined in shimmering blue-green feathers and his tongue poked from the corner of his lip as he worked. It reminded Walter of their youth when they did after school work together. A time when things were easy, carefree, though he found the task insufferable then. Time was a cruel educator.

Nyset leaned in close to Walter, flashing him a toothy smile and bumping him with her bony shoulders. He grinned back at her, wiping his wet palms on his thighs.

“Remember the store we visited, The Herbalist?”

He looked up to the ceiling, thick square cut beams crisscrossing and propping up gleaming sheets of some type of metal that reflected the brilliant pinks of the morning sun into the room.

“Weird lady with long tubes of hair, lots of wooden beads in it?” she said, fingers running down a length of yellow hair interspersed with streaks of brown.

“Yes, I remember now,” he said, nodding.

“Well, they’re having a joining initiation today, to join the sisterhood, the school of Herbalists,” she said, back straightening and leaning closer, her side warm against him. “I’ve been studying for it all week—and I think I’m ready for it, whatever the test may be…” Her eyebrows pulled together, the words tumbled out of her mouth. “Will you come with me? We’d need to leave within the hour, I know it doesn’t give you much time to—”

“Of course!” Walter interrupted. “I’ll go and make myself a quick bath. I’m amazed you can stand to be this close to me.” It was the very least he could do for her care over the passing days.

“I didn’t want to make you feel bad,” she said with a wry smile.

Walter pushed himself away from the table, downing the rest of his mug with a great swallow. “Where’s Grim?” Walter asked.

Baylan peered up from Juzo’s sketching. “He went to visit Field Marshall Jast, the one we met prior to the battle.”

“Oh? How come?”

“A courier came for him today. I’m not sure, Grim sure was excited though. He ran off without saying much.”

Walter made his way to the bath chamber, feeling invigorated by the morning brew. He dumped cool buckets of water into the wide copper tub. Walter liked his baths hot and wanted to feel like he was being boiled by cannibals. He pointed at the shining tub with both hands open, tub looking to have been beaten into shape by a flat hammer. Thin jets of flame streamed from each of his fingertips, curling around the tub.

“Gentle,” he whispered, harnessing just a trickle of the Dragon’s fury.

It was difficult, much more difficult than a full embrace of the Dragon’s chaos. It required a deft touch. Too much and he’d burn a hole through the copper, too little and he’d be waiting all day. He stretched the flames in his mind, molding them into the shape of the tub. They obeyed, shifting and widening into a slightly larger version of the tub, encircling it in its fiery grasp.

The water stirred and shimmered, just at the point before boiling. The flames erupting from Walter’s fingertips winked out as if never there. He nodded in satisfaction and climbed in. The hot water engulfed his body, cradling him in its warmth. The grit, oil and grime of a week’s worth of lying in a bed sloughed off his skin. He let the smile that wanted to come out creep across his face. He was happy to be here, grateful for King Ezra granting him Malek’s old place. Grateful for the group of friends he’d met, and more importantly, grateful to be alive after everything he’d been through.

A strange calm came over Walter, and along with it a string of disjointed thoughts. One of them gave him pause, making him sit bolt upright, hands firmly gripping the curling edges of the tub.

“Mom,” he whispered, his jaw slack.

The look in her eyes before she had sent him and Juzo out the door of his house was that of recognition. The thought was like a hard slap. She had recognized the Cerumal. The beasts that had slain his mother. What more did his parents know? Why did they hide so much from him? Would they have ever told him about what he could do?

The bastards would feel his vengeance, know his name. He would burn it into the memory of all the Death Spawn throughout the realms. He would break the Wretched and put their heads on a pike. Asebor’s blood would run free, cleansing the world of his dark touch. They would know his wrath, through their shattering bones and broken bodies, if it was the last thing he did.

Breathe.

In time, but for now, he must be patient. Even with enough rage to break the world, all he could do now was breathe. He looked at his hands, knuckles white and fingernails digging into the soft copper of the tub’s rim. He relaxed his hands, closing his eyes and slowly exhaled.

“Mother, Father—I won’t forget you,” he said softly.

T
he sun burned
white in the reflecting gilt lined sign of The Herbalist. The windows on either side of the entrance were overstuffed with plants of pinks, oranges and yellows like a sea of bristling fire. The door was propped open with a heavy pot, letting the warm air and swirling ash eddies roll through the entryway.

“Ready?” Walter asked, peering at Nyset standing beside him.

“No problem, this should be fun,” she said unconvincingly. She straightened up, rolled her small shoulders back and tucked a strand of yellow hair behind her ears. She took a step forward then paused, hesitating.

“You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. You’ll be fine. Let’s go,” he said, putting his hand behind her neck, gently urging her on. Coils of her silky hair fell over his hand, caressing it. That was all she needed. She strode through the door with the pride of a lion, Walter trailing behind, inhaling her lingering fragrance. Her clean scent was quickly dashed away by a wall of eye watering odors. He thought it might have been patchouli mixed with something that almost tasted like sugar in the air.

“You made it Nyset. How wonderful!” Lena beamed, red lines of paint across her cheeks becoming deep furrows and arms open. Nyset grinned and hugged her. The shopkeep gave her head a shake, clacking the wooden beads together that wove through her long tubes of hair. She pointedly ignored Walter, seeming to look past him rather than into his eyes.

“Women,” Walter muttered under his breath. Nyset shot him a look that seemed to say ‘hold your tongue’. Walter turned about, crossing his muscular arms, looking the store up and down. It was a small shop, no bigger than the kitchen in the Lair. They used the space well though. Every wall was lined with shelves from top to bottom, filled with twigs, roots, flowers, and powders in various shades of the rainbow. Walter couldn’t make any sense of it, but was glad Nyset could.

“Just a minute now,” Lena said, shuffling to the door. Her undyed skirts hissed along the floor and she closed the door, flipping over the “OPEN” side.

Nyset’s eyes widened as two other women emerged from the back of the store behind the counter with closed porcelain jars in their hands. One of them looked at Walter, and he thought he saw the beginnings of a scowl that was quickly staunched.

“Meet my other sisters, members of the sisterhood of herbalists,” Lena said in a long drawl, gesturing to the newcomers with an arm lined with bracelets of wood, carved in varying thicknesses and colors. “This is Zaria, and this is Aislinn. They’ll help us with the testing.” The women smiled, placed their jars down, and curtsied.

“Testing?” Nyset asked, stepping to the counter and placing her hands on its brightly polished wood, littered with bits of plant matter.

“Of course dear. We don’t just let any person join the sisterhood,” Lena said, smiling pleasantly. She slipped under the counter and stood on the opposite side of Nyset. Walter sauntered behind her, peering over her shoulder. Zaria and Aislinn glided to stand on either side of Lena.

“Okay,” Nyset said, giving the counter a drumming.

“I see you brought your husband,” Lena, said without any effort to hide her annoyance. Walter leveled his eyes at her, but she wouldn’t meet them.

“Do you mind? He won’t be a bother at all,” Nyset said, grinning up at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Walter groaned.

“How does your child fare?” Walter felt the blood rush to his cheeks. Lies beget lies, in a vicious downward spiral.

“Oh yes, he’s quite well. Thank you once again for the Spider’s Tail. It worked wonderfully,” Nyset said, recovering much better than he had.

“That’s lovely, just lovely,” Lena said. “Now, as a reminder, if you pass the test you must swear an oath to share any and all herbal discoveries you make with the sisterhood and to no other. And in turn, we have all sworn to do the same. Do you agree to this rule?”

“Yes,” Nyset nodded affirmatively.

“Let us begin then. Zaria, you may start,” Lena said.

Zaria, the tallest woman Walter had ever seen, hunched her narrow back over and gently lifted the lid from her jar, pulling out a blue twig with round bumps that looked like boils.

“Nyset,” Lena gestured to the sickly looking stick. “Please tell us what this is and what its uses are.” A gust rustled through the ill-fitting door, making it shudder and bang against the frame. Walter watched it, frowning at the poor craftsmanship.

Nyset paused for a second, tapping a finger on her lips. “This is Nightmare Duscle,” she said confidently. “It’s used as a sleep aid for those who have trouble falling and staying asleep. It can also be brewed as a tea for calming the nerves.”

“Very good,” Lena cried. “Just a couple more.”

Zaria stuffed the bright blue twig into her jar with a huff. “That was too easy,” she muttered.

Aislinn opened her wavy rimmed jar and reached inside, her narrow face working into a frown, and something gelatinous came out smeared on her fingertips. She wiped the white goo on a plate and slid it in front of Nyset. It was a cloudy, pale substance with small red flecks swimming inside of it. It looked a lot like something Walter had blown from his nose when he was last sick.
There would have to be something seriously wrong with me to eat that
, he thought with a disgusted swallow.

“Good luck,” Aislinn said, her eyes narrowed like slits. Nyset stared at it for a long time, fingers working her wonderful lips. Walter started shifting his hips from side and started stretching his legs. Lena glared at him, finally directly acknowledging him. More minutes passed and Nyset brought the plate very close to her face, one eye closed tight. The goo stuck just like mucus, hardly moving at all. Should he tell her it’s just snot? Walter ran his fingers up and down Stormcaller and yawned.

“Can I taste it?” she asked.

“Of course,” Lena said.

Nyset swabbed the goo with her finger and jammed it into her mouth, lips pursing. “Blah!” she sputtered, spitting up the sticky mucus onto the plate. Lena handed her a towel and she harshly rubbed it over her mouth.

“Aproom! I only knew because unfortunately, this wasn’t the first time I’ve tasted it,” she said sourly.

“By the Phoenix, she’s good,” Aislinn said, dropping her wide, leather gloved hands onto the counter with a thump.

“And its uses?” Lena beckoned.

“Digestive problems, stomach upset, loose stool, mainly,” Nyset confidently rattled off. She tugged at the tails of her shirt and took a quick breath.

He knew she liked to study, but this was impressive.
Walter was intrigued now, not realizing how deep her knowledge went in this area.

Aislinn nodded rapidly, puffing her lips out. “You got it,” she said, taking the plate and scraping it into a barrel.

“So, I’m in?” Nyset said, with a hop, hands clasped.

“Almost,” Lena said, a sly smile on her face. “Just one more,” she said, rolling a pinkish ball of puff onto the counter from hands lined with rings from knuckle to fingertip. Nyset knitted her brows together and crossed her arms, deep in thought. Aislinn and Zaria didn’t succeed at hiding their slackening jaws, but did close them a few seconds later. They didn’t even know.

This test is bullshit,
Walter thought, shaking his head.

“You have ten minutes to figure it out,” Aislinn said, planting her hands on her hips and sticking out her chest. The loose and dirt stained shirt doing nothing to hide her tremendous bust.

Time passed and Nyset had tasted the pink ball, brushed it on her face, rolled it between fingertips, held it close to her nose, held her ear to it and still looked just as perplexed. A sheen of sweat glistened from the back of her neck and her lips moved noiselessly.

“I—” She started to speak then stopped, furiously tapping on her lips with her fingers.

Shit. He had to help her. She wants this. He could help. But Baylan said the Mind Eater was forbidden by the Tower. But they weren’t in the Silver Tower now, were they? Just this one time would be harmless, she wouldn’t even know the difference.

Walter turned inward, parting the flames of the Dragon entering the clam of the Phoenix. Walter wasn’t sure what he was doing or if it would work, but he remembered seeing the construct of energy Malek had used on King Ezra to control his thoughts. It was just as harmless as a white lie
.
Walter’s eyes glazed over and his eyelids nearly closed as he molded the Phoenix to his will. Its cooling energy rolled down his arms like the departing tide, filling his fingertips with ice. He calmly slipped his hands behind his back, fingers wriggling.

Malek had hid the glow of its light somehow.
Walter could see the creature in his mind, the body of a spider with a massive eye the size of a dog’s head. Its segmented legs ended in narrow points and were jagged with barbs. He just had to take away its light.
The insect skittered across the plains of his mind’s eye, seeking work, leaving blue trails of light as it moved. Walter imagined himself inhaling, swallowing its light. The bluish light drifted from its body in swirling wisps, dissipating like smoke. It was translucent now, shimmering like a mirage in the Tigerian Bluffs.

He opened his eyes as the strange spider materialized on top of Lena’s head, a barely detectable shimmer in the air. Walter willed it to use its legs and it obeyed, jabbing them like daggers into Lena’s skull. She didn’t react to the spider though, or the beam that shot from its eye and into the front of her head.

Her answer is correct. Whatever it is, it is true
.
Walter pressed his thought through the Mind Eater and into Lena. Lena seemed to nod in understanding. Shit,
Walter thought, keeping the thought internally focused. Its legs sunk deeper into her skull, pressing its round abdomen to her head.

“You’re a smart girl, I know you can figure this out,” Lena’s cool voice sprung in his mind. Walter’s eyes widened when he realized her mouth hadn’t moved. “Or maybe you don’t have what it takes to join the sisterhood? These two gentle minded souls got in, you should be able to as well…” Lena’s thoughts echoed in his head.

This wasn’t right. He’d already gone this far, no turning back now was there?
Walter injected the thought again, “her answer is correct.”

Nyset glanced over at him and he flinched back a step, hands instinctively curling into fists. He felt sweat forming in the furrow that ran down the middle of his back. Did she know? Would she hate him for this? Should I tell her? He nodded at her, smiling reassuringly.

She turned back to Lena and drew out a long breath. “I’m not sure, but I suppose a guess is better than nothing at all,” Aislinn tried to hide the start of a self-satisfied smile, Lena’s expression stoic. “Is it Fairymoss?” Nyset asked, voice wavering with an utter lack of confidence.

“Her answer is correct,” Lena said flatly.

“Really?” Nyset said, hands clapping. Walter let the Mind Eater go and the Phoenix power that left his fingertips frozen.

“Shit,” Walter whispered. It worked.

“Uhm, yes the answer is correct,” Lena said again, pulling on a necklace of sticks and twine. “Welcome to the sisterhood of herbalists!” She beamed with open arms. They embraced and kissed each other’s cheeks.

G
rimbald plodded
along the Royal Road, King Ezra’s palace white like a bucket of milk reflecting the afternoon sun. He’d finally had some clothes tailored to fit his size from the good sum of marks Malek had most graciously left them in the Lair. It felt good to finally be able to move again.

Grimbald paused, leaning against an iron street torch. He glanced at the paper secured with twine around the post. It was a sketch of Malek with the words: “10,000 marks. Dead or Alive.” Malek, probably somewhere shivering in the Mountains of Misery. They’ll never find him. For the third time, he uncurled the scroll clutched in his hand, reading Field Marshall Jast’s letter. It was addressed to him. Now that was something.

D
ear Grimbald Landon
,

I
bore
witness to your display of valor during the battle against the Death Spawn upon the Plains of Dressna. Visit me at the barracks tomorrow to discuss your future in the Midgaard Falcon.

J
ast
Adlam

Field Marshall of the Midgaard Falcon

H
e gently closed
the scroll and held it in his hand. It was just a few more blocks until he would turn right onto Falcon way. Grimbald thought it was strange that the guard’s barracks were in the Noble’s quarters. He didn’t like being in this part of the city much. He felt wrong, out of place. Like he didn’t belong here. He felt more at ease in the din of the market. It was too quiet here. Folks yelling, cursing and speaking plain, that’s what men should talk like.

The people around these parts sat sipping on bright Scarlet Berry wine. Lounging on their small garden plots in front of their oversized houses. The houses here were as big as his Pa’s tavern in Shipton, the Hissing Gooseberry. A fine establishment if you asked him. All of this stuff wouldn’t go with them to the Shadow Realm. That was certain.

The nobles whispered quietly to themselves, discussing things that were silly tidings in Grimbald’s mind.

“Can you believe the color she painted her house?” A dainty woman hushed to her overfed husband.

“It’s atrocious. There must be something wrong with her mind,” the man replied softly.

But who was he to say what was important? A folk’s interest is but their own. Say one thing for Grimbald, he was big, that was certain. But he also had sharp ears that had served him well over his life.

“Gia, look at that man!” another dainty hissed to his wife. Grimbald watched the dainty out of the corner of his eye, laughing at him like he was some kind of fool. The wife turned from watching a pair of big Sand Buckeye’s, bulbous plants snapping at each other for a piece of meat. A fine waste of food. There were a lot of hungry people in the lower district, especially outside the city walls.