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

  Shit, Walter thought, pouring elixir beans into a ceramic mortar.

  “There was a wizard, an old acquaintance of mine who lived in the Noble’s Quarters. We found him dead at the Lair’s entrance today before taking a morning walk.”

  “What? Why?” Walter said, his hand pausing in mid-air as he put the jar back on the shelf.

  “Disgusting, truly his body was disgraced. They ran him through, left his body skewered on a pike for us to find. They’re animals,” Baylan said through gritted teeth.

  “We think it might be some sort of message, and the Falcon guard who helped us take care of the body seemed to agree,” Nyset said, ducking under Baylan’s arms and entering the dining chamber. She filled a pot with clear water from a bucket.

  Walter started slowly mashing the dark elixir beans with a pestle, freeing their delicate oils with each crunch. No, nothing will stop me from having a cup of elixir. Not even a dead man at my door.

  “I spoke with the Black Guard. The Purists have greatly increased their numbers. They’re taking in new members from the city and the surrounding outskirts… it seems like they would be a logical culprit,” Baylan said, circling the table and sitting into a beautifully carved chair in the likeness of bulbous Sand Buckeyes, tumbling over one another.

  “Is there nowhere we can go and be safe?” Nyset said twirling a golden coil of hair with one hand and putting the pot on the stove with the other. She snapped her fingers and a blob of fire tumbled from her thumb, igniting the birch wood below the grates.

  Walter swallowed, biting his lip, mashing the beans with more force.

  “Purists? Are these the fools who run around in white?” Juzo said, leaning against the dining chamber’s entrance, his arms crossed.

  “Juzo!” Walter beamed, gently setting the pestle into the bowl. “Where have you been?” Juzo offered his hand and Walter ignored it, giving the man a bear hug. Juzo laughed with surprise, smiling and baring his grisly teeth. Walter pushed himself back, looking him up and down.

  “You look good man, better than the last time I saw you,” Walter said. Juzo’s cheeks had filled in a bit and his skin seemed to have met the sun. Walter still had trouble holding the man’s red eye though. He wasn’t sure that was something he’d ever get used too. Not the same vicious yellow of the Death Spawn, but damn close in strangeness.

  “I wish I could say the same to you, Walt, you look like you need another week of rest,” Juzo grinned. It seemed you could gauge the strength of a friendship by the level of brutal honesty given, Walter thought. Juzo’s loyalty was unfaltering, stepping in to save him from certain death during the battle on the plains, at least that’s how Walter wanted to remember it. He tried to repress the memory of that dark blade biting into his shoulder, still rotting the flesh around the wound. Walter would have to heal that eventually, for time would not.

  “You had a run in with them, Juzo?” Baylan asked, nibbling on a nut the size of his fist. Walter poured the elixir bean fragments into the simmering pot on the stove, stirring them in with a wooden spoon.

  Juzo nodded, taking a chair beside Nyset, turning it the wrong way and sitting with his chest against the back, arms folded over the top. “I guess you could say that. I was taking a walk last night, saw a few of them beating an old man… tried to help him, against my better judgment.”

  “Why? What happened?” asked Nyset, crinkling her tiny nose.

  “They tried to kill me! I had no choice but to defend myself,” Juzo said, looking down and shaking his head, strands of gray falling across his face.

  “Juzo… those men, you did that?” Nyset said, rolling her shoulders, raising an eyebrow.

  “We heard from a crier this morning that a couple of men, Purists, had been butchered,” Baylan said, slowly putting the nut down on the table.

  The room grew quiet, not much to be heard but the bubbling pot of elixir and shouts carrying up the tower from the street below. The denizens of Midgaard rose early, begrudgingly pulling carts down the ash covered streets to the market square. Walter could see Juzo squirming, unsure of what to say.

  Juzo started, unfolding his arms, “I—”

  “I would have done the same thing,” Walter interrupted, voice hard as stone. Nyset looked at him, tilting her head, highlighting her long pale neck, inviting his mouth. Wouldn’t he? Maybe. He had killed men before who wanted to kill him. Why was this any different?

  “They left me no choice. I was just trying to do some good,” Juzo said shrugging, pulling at the tall collar around his coat. Does he ever take that thing off? Walter wondered, taking a seat beside Baylan.

  “Maybe use a little less force next time,” Baylan suggested, resuming gnawing on his nut.

  “Yeah. I can do that,” Juzo nodded, forcing a smile. “Got caught in the fire of the moment I guess.”

  “It happens,” Walter said, tapping the spoon on the lid of the pot, then setting it aside.

  “I’d like to leave for the Silver Tower tomorrow, if you’re up for it, Walter. I would rather we not delay much longer, everyone else is prepared to depart then, if you are.”

  “I’ll make sure I’m ready. That’s great. I can’t wait to see the Tower.” Walter poured the pot of elixir through a sieve into another pot.

  “Me too,” Nyset chimed in, getting mugs from an oaken cupboard carved with indecipherable letters. Walter set the pot down, taking a seat beside Nyset.

  “I don’t know how you guys drink that stuff. Tastes like dirty water.” Juzo scowled as Nyset started filling mugs, sliding one to Walter and Baylan.

  Walter swooned at the first sip. “Oh, how I’ve missed this. The first sip is always the best,” he said.

  Baylan took a sip, swishing it in his mouth. “I’m going to lock up the rest of the artifacts Malek so graciously left us and research a blocking ward for the Lair.”

  “A ward?” Walter asked, sipping on his elixir and moaning at the bittersweet taste. Juzo and Nyset leaned in expectantly, awaiting Baylan’s reply.

  “You don’t know about wards? I have not been a very good teacher have I? A ward, as the name suggests, is designed for keeping people out of an area you don’t want them in,” Baylan said, waving his stump, which was now a curve of skin where his wrist had once been, and taking a slurp of elixir.

  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 quil
l, 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.

  Chapter Four

  Fairymoss

  “Was there anything more vile than the torturer?” -The Diaries of Baylan Spear

  The 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.