The Tower of Endless Worlds

by Jonathan Moeller

They saw the Tower on the next day.

  Liam had seen countless wonders and horrors in his sixty-four years. He had watched the master Wizards of the White Council work spells of awesome might. He had seen the great cities of Carlisan and Amnisos at the height of their glory and majesty. He had seen his world come to ruin and destruction. He had seen Carlisan burn, seen Alastarius, the last master of the White Council, ripped apart by Lord Marugon’s winged demons.

  But he had never seen anything like the Tower of Endless Worlds.

  It rose out of the plain like a pillar of heaven, its dark crown hidden in the gray clouds. Countless windows, parapets, turrets, and strange statues studded its black sides. Its dark arches loomed like mountains, and its flying buttresses and balconies stood like the legs of a colossal spider.

  “My gods,” said Liam. “My gods.”

  Alastarius had told him that the Tower was part of all worlds and yet none, that it touched every world yet truly existed in none of them. Liam had thought such a description nonsense. Yet as he looked at the dark majesty of the Tower, he understood.

  Lord Marugon, last of the Warlocks, had walked into that place and returned with guns and fire and death from Earth. Despite Liam’s hatred for the Warlock, he could not help but admire his bravery.

  For Marugon had walked into the Tower, braved its perils, and returned.

  Liam wavered. He wanted to flee from the Tower, yet he had no choice but to go on. Marugon would never look for Lithon on distant Earth. And Alastarius had prophesied that Lithon was the world’s last hope of defeating Marugon’s guns and bombs.

  “Alastarius,” said Liam. “I wish that you were with us now.” He reached back to rub Lithon’s head. “Let us navigate the Tower, your Majesty, and see this Earth.”

  Liam set off for the great gates that loomed in the Tower’s base. He estimated that it would take the better part of the day to reach those doors.

  And then what?

  Liam had to trust that he would find his way through the Tower. But how? Save for Marugon, no mortal man had set foot in the Tower for uncounted millennia. At least, no one had set foot within the Tower and returned.

  “We’ll deal with that later, your Majesty,” said Liam. “Right now, we…”

  A harsh laugh rang over the bleak plain.

  Instinct took over Liam’s mind. He slid his Sacred Blades from their scabbards, the blades glimmering with blue light. Liam dropped to a crouch, his eyes surveying the wastes.

  The laugh rang out again, coming from behind a low ridge. Liam dropped and crawled along the rough ground, praying that Lithon wouldn’t start crying. He reached the top of the ridge and peered over.

  A group of five men stood in a shallow basin. They wore the black and crimson uniforms of Lord Marugon’s soldiers, ragged from long travel. Each man had a Kalashnikov strapped over his back, a belt of ammunition, and a Glock at his waist. Rembiar had likely posted the gunmen here. Rembiar had been a traitor and a murderer, but he had not been a fool. If he had chased Liam from Carlisan to the Crimson Plain at the edge of the world, then he would have had the cunning to send some scouts ahead.

  But it didn’t matter. Rembiar was dead, and Liam could creep past his scouts. He would pass the gates of the Tower, and the soldiers would never know.

  One of the gunmen stepped to the side, and Liam felt his eyes go wide.

  A young girl stood in their midst, dressed in a ragged gray shift. She couldn’t have been more than nine or ten years old. Dirt smudged her face and dark rings encircled her eyes. Liam had never seen eyes like that before, so old in such a young face. He wondered what horrors she had seen as Marugon’s armies had swept across the nations.

  “Damnation, Raul,” said one of the soldiers. “This doesn't make sense. She just appeared out of nowhere. Nobody lives within three hundred miles of here, and there are monsters in this cursed place. What if she’s one of them, wearing a human face? I say we let her go.”

  The soldier called Raul, a hulking brute of a man, laughed. “Stop whining like a woman. We all know that his Lordship,” he made a sign to ward off evil, “runs caravans through the Tower. Maybe she’s an escaped slave. She doesn't speak, and slaves don’t speak.”

  The first soldier snorted. “Slaves don’t talk because the winged demons cut out their tongues. She’s got a tongue, she just doesn't talk. I don’t like it. It’s unnatural. I say we push her out the camp and keep going. If she’s a devil or something, I want no part of it.”

  Raul rolled his eyes, and then struck the girl with a vicious backhanded blow. She went flying to the dirt with a cry. Liam gritted his teeth.

  “See?” said Raul. “Now, if she was a devil, would she have let me hit her like that? An escaped slave, I say, one that hadn’t had her tongue pulled out yet. And the ghouls, you say? Perhaps she escaped from them, and found her way here.”

  “Nobody escapes from the ghouls,” said the first soldier. “Fine. Keep her, then. What do you want with her? Food? She’s a bit skinny for a proper meal.”

  Raul gave an incredulous stare. “Bah.” He grinned and thrust his hips. “We haven’t had women since that last village in Rindl.” A slow burn of rage started in Liam’s mind.

  One of the other soldiers frowned. “Raul, she’s just a child.”

  “So?” said Raul. “I’ve done old, and I’ve done young, and woman or girl, they’re all the same when they’re scared in the dark.”

  “Fine,” said the first soldier. “After we eat. And you get first watch tonight.”

  Raul smirked. “If it will stop your whining.”

  Liam’s fists clenched around his sword hilts. There were only five of them. He had surprise on his side. Yet one lucky shot would bring him down. And who would take the King to safety then?

  “Arran,” whispered Liam. “Why did you forsake me?” If only Arran were still here. The young Knight had been one of the finest swordsmen Liam had ever seen. Yet he had succumbed to temptation, taken up one of Marugon’s hell-forged guns, and fallen into darkness.

  “Damnation,” said one the soldiers. “I may as well take second watch. I know I’ll get no sleep with that,” he waved a hand at the dark height of the Tower, “looming over.”

  “Aye,” said another soldier, digging through his pack. “I’ll not sleep well so long as we’re on this cursed Plain.” He pulled out a small white packet. “You’ve tried this? It’s jerky from that other world, the one where his Lordship found the guns…”

  Liam closed his eyes and rested his head against the ground. If only Arran were still here. The two of them could have taken these murderers with ease. Liam had to go. The fate of the world rested in his shoulder harness.

  He started to crawl back down the ridge.

  He heard Raul’s raucous laughter. “And so there were three of them, right? You remember this? A mother and her two daughters? I’ve told this story before.” He laughed again. “We took turns with them, but they all looked alike, so I couldn’t tell…”

  Liam changed his mind.

  He reached back, undid his shoulder harness, and set Lithon on the ground. Liam put a finger to his lips and hoped the young King understood. More laughter rang from the soldiers' camp. Liam rose to a crouch, drew his swords, and jumped.

  He sprang over the ridge and landed in the basin, his Sacred Blades whirling. The soldiers gaped in astonishment. Liam spun, his swords flashing. Two of the soldiers staggered to the earth, their throats slashed.

  The nearest gunman screamed and grabbed for his weapon. Liam slashed off the soldier's wrist and thrust his other sword into his belly. Raul cursed and leveled his Kalashnikov. Liam whirled, the gunman still impaled on his blade, and shoved the dying man in the path of the bullets. Raul’s fire shredded into the impaled soldier. Liam hopped back on one foot and kicked out. The corpse slid off his blade and crashed into Raul.

  The little girl stood still, watching with solemn eyes.

  Liam turned and attacked another soldier. His right sword
smashed into the gunman’s Kalashnikov, knocking loose the ammunition cartridge. The soldier roared and swung his weapon like a club, and Liam parried with contempt. Without their precious guns, these murderers made miserable fighters. Liam parried the blows with ease, and slashed his left sword. The soldier screamed when Liam’s left blade ripped across his belly, and died as Liam’s right sword plunged through his chest.

  Liam spun and stared down the barrel of Raul’s pistol.

  “You old bastard Knight. You’re the one we’ve been chasing,” hissed Raul. “It looks as if I’ll get the reward for your head. Tell me where the brat is, and I’ll spare your sorry life.”

  “Brat?” said Liam. “That brat is Lithon Scepteris, the King of Carlisan and your rightful lord.”

  Raul sneered. “His father sentenced me to die for killing some whore. Lord Marugon set me free. He’s my rightful lord. I think I’ll just take your carcass back to Rembiar.”

  He squeezed the trigger, and Liam swept his right Sacred Blade in a high swing. The bullet collided with the blade and knocked the sword from Liam’s grasp, and Liam lunged with his remaining weapon. Raul had time to scream before Liam’s Sacred Blade found his heart. Liam twisted, Raul shuddered, and the soldier fell dead.

  Silence fell over the Crimson Plain once more.

  Liam stepped back, panting. His heart pounded in his chest. He was getting too old for this.

  He snorted. He would have been too old for this twenty years ago.

  “You dropped this.”

  Liam turned. The little girl stood behind him, the dropped Sacred Blade in her hands. “Yes, I did. Thank you.”

  The girl looked up at him with a blank, bony face and deep eyes. Liam had thought her in shock, or rendered mute by the recent horrors, but she did not seem unsettled. “You came.”

  “Did you see me?” Liam felt a stab of shame as he remembered his resolution to flee.

  The girl nodded. “You were supposed to come.”

  Liam wiped his swords and slid them back into their scabbards. “Well, what’s your name?”

  “Ally,” said the girl.

  “I am Sir Liam Mastere, at your service,” said Liam. “Do you have a family?”

  Ally stared at him.

  “How did you get here?”

  The girl shrugged. “I don’t remember.”

  “You don’t?” said Liam. “I think you’ll have to come with me. I can’t leave you alone on the Crimson Plain.” It would stretch his limited food and water further, but he had not rescued the girl only to abandon her to a slow death from thirst.

  “I know,” said Ally. “I should come with you.”

  Liam smiled. “It would be wise.” He clambered back up the ridge, Ally following him, and picked up Lithon.

  Ally brightened. “Who’s that?”

  “This?” said Liam. “This is Lithon Scepteris, King of Carlisan.”

  Ally’s face crinkled. “He’s just a toddler. He can’t be king. Where’s his mother and father?”

  Liam looked at the ground. “They’re dead.”

  “Oh,” said Ally. “I’m sorry. Almost everyone’s dead, aren’t they?”

  “Yes,” said Liam.

  “Where are we going?” said Ally.

  Liam pointed at the dark bulk of the Tower.

  Ally didn’t blink. “Why?”

  “Because,” said Liam. “You know of the White Council?”

  Ally nodded. “The Wizards.”

  “The greatest of them, Alastarius, gave me a prophecy,” said Liam. “He told me that this child, this little King, would grow up to save our world from Lord Marugon and the gunmen.” He jerked his head at the sprawled corpses. “Men like the ones who wanted to hurt you.”

  “Oh,” said Ally. She thought for a moment. “That’s a good thing.”

  Liam laughed. “Yes, I would say so.”

  “I’ll come with you,” said Ally. “You’ll need help to take care of the baby.”

  “I will,” said Liam. “I don’t have much experience with children. It’s nothing short of a miracle that I’ve managed to take care of him so long.”

  “Do you have children of your own?” said Ally.

  Liam looked away. “No.” He felt Ally’s stare. “I…not anymore.”

  He remembered Princess Anna, screaming as the bullets plunged into her chest.

  “I’m sorry,” said Ally.

  “Are you strong enough to walk?” said Liam, slinging Lithon over his back. Ally nodded. “Then we should…”

  A gurgling laugh rose into the air.

  Liam yanked out a Sacred Blade. “Get behind me!” Ally scurried behind his legs. One of the soldiers crawled across the ground, staring up at him. Liam’s strike hadn’t killed him.

  “I’ll give you the mercy of death,” said Liam, “but it’s more than you deserve.”

  The soldier managed another laugh, blood dripping from his wounds. “You old bastard. You don’t know. I heard you. You’re going to the Tower. You’ll die.”

  “I think not,” said Liam.

  The gunman whimpered. “You’ll see. There are ghouls out at night, I’ve seen them. Ghouls and worse things.”

  “Hardly my concern,” said Liam. “I shall reach the Tower before nightfall.”

  The gunman snorted. “They come from the Tower, old bastard. And lots of other things come out of the Tower. Winged things, things that crawl, things that dig, things with a thousand legs and nine eyes.” He began to shudder, tears beading in his eyes. “They come out of the Tower. You’ll see. Kill me, kill me, please, don’t leave me for them…”

  Liam’s sword stabbed down and put the soldier out of his misery. Lithon began to cry, and Ally stared up at him with her deep dark eyes.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” said Liam.

  Ally nodded.

  “Then let’s go,” said Liam. He looked at the sky, dim even at noon. “We’ll want to reach the Tower’s gates before dark.”

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