The Tower of Sorcery

by James Galloway

  Chapter 1

  It was going to be a good day.

  Tarrin stumbled slightly under the weight of the deer as he tried to step over a fallen log, working to prevent the end of his bow from snagging on the underbrush. The morning sun was piercing the thick canopy of the ancient woods at a low angle, splashing golden yellow light over tree trunks and occasionally hitting the back of a leaf, lighting it up from behind and giving it a golden glow. The air was warm and dry, and the forest was filled with the sounds of life; chirping birds, the cry of a squirrel, the rustle of the brush as a rabbit or chipmunk scurried about. The sounds were slightly alarmed, for Tarrin couldn't carry the deer carcass and manage any decent stealth, but he wasn't so noisy that they went totally silent.

  He would make it back in plenty of time. The deer was already slated to be roasted at Summer's Dawn, a festival that the village held every year at the beginning of summer. It was a day for everyone in the village and on the surrounding farms to take a break from the grueling work, to bring something that represented the bounty of the land to a grand feast that would take place on the village green. Most people brought something from the wild, representing the richness of the forest, and it another way, giving thanks for it. When the crops failed, a family could survive with a bow or sling. Right at that moment, wives were skinning something freshly snared or shot, accepting bowls of mulchberries from the children who had picked them, or waiting for the husband to get back with his catch. Most men went after deer, but more often than not they had to settle for rabbit, or maybe even boar.

  Tarrin downed a big one. It was so heavy that he almost couldn't carry it. Tarrin was a very good hunter. His father had been a Ranger, one of the specially trained soldiers that learned to fight and survive in the forest, and that training made him the best hunter in Aldreth. Or it would have, if he could hunt. Tarrin had learned from the best hunter in the region, and he was very accomplished himself. There were things that his father, Eron, saw that he barely noticed, and to him, the slightest turned leaf was like an open book. Eron couldn't hunt, but he could still track, and he was not only known as the best tracker in the region, but renowned all the way to Torrian. He had been a mighty soldier in his day, and had risen high in the ranks before accepting his pension and retiring to the farm on Aldreth. He'd matured into a quiet, reserved man with graying hair, gray beard, and a twinkle in his blue eyes.

  Tarrin's mother had everything to do with that. To the villagers, Elke Kael was...unusual. She wasn't Sulasian, she was an Ungardt, one of the hardy folk that lived to the far north in the frozen lands. She was tall, taller than every man in the village, and had the pattern Ungardt features. Blond hair, wide hips, buxom chest, pretty face. But Elke Kael was steel under her pale skin. She had a figure that made the village women grumble in envy, but there was nothing but corded muscle inside the loose shirts and breeches she commonly wore. She was a warrior, the daughter of a clan king, and she had every bit of the pride and haughtiness.

  The villagers didn't quite know what to make of Elke Kael. She was the wife of Eron Kael, one of the most respected men in the area, but she was nothing like him. She was a hot-tempered, blunt, erratic woman that could use a sword or axe better than any man in the village, even her own husband, and the fact that she was a better fighter than the men left them a bit envious and scornful of her, and left the women confused and not a little bit afraid of her. She had a tongue sharper than a razor, and was infamous for her temper-induced explosions. She was nothing like anything the village had ever seen before, with a personality and attitude that was as misplaced in the Aldreth crowd as her appearance was. The years she'd been in the village had done little to change this view of her. She was known as "the blond witch" when her ears were beyond the words. But Tarrin found her reputation to be a bit misplaced, because at home, Elke was a gentle, compassionate woman. She was quick to criticize, but she was just as quick to complement. Forty years of life had done nothing to her body; she looked like Tarrin's sister instead of his mother. Her blond hair was untouched by gray, and her body was just as hard and taut as it had been when she arrived. The only mar on her were the very faint and small wrinkles that had begun to creep up around her eyes.

  But what was unusual to the villagers was what Tarrin accepted as normal. Tarrin had grown up watching his mother and father, and he'd learned that they weren't the usual parents from talking to the village children. When most mothers were baking bread, his mother was practicing with her axe. When most fathers were working in the fields, his father was teaching him how to shoot the bow, and how to hunt, and what to look for when he was tracking a deer. For a seventeen year old, Tarrin was a nasty fighter. He'd grown up with a sword in one hand and a bow in the other. His father was a grizzled pensioner of one of the most elite divisions of the Sulasian army, and his mother was the daughter of a clan king, and as such was trained in the formidable style that made the Ungardt some of the best fighters in the world. Tarrin had spent more time in his life outside than inside, and more time holding a weapon than a farming tool. He'd been trained by his parents in most common weapons, and Elke had taught him the devastating hand-fighting styles that made the Ungardt so dangerous.

  He stopped for a moment, wiping sweat off his brow that had slid down out of his blond hair. Tarrin favored his mother in looks. He had the Ungardt height and broad shoulders, and had also inherited blond hair and blue eyes from his mother. His ears were flat against his head and narrow, like his father's, who jokingly commented that they were the proof he was blood related to his son. Tarrin's face was the male version of his mother, with the same high cheekbones and strong jaw, the same straight nose and the same penetrating stare. He was handsome in the male way where his mother was handsome in the female way. He was taller than his mother by at least half a hand, the tallest man in the village, and at only seventeen it was guaranteed he would grow a few more fingers before he was finished. He was even stronger than he looked, thanks to the weapons training through most of his life, and had the iron constitution of a man that swung heavy weapons half the day and pushed a plow the rest of it.

  He started moving again, finding the game trail that would quickly get him home. They built their farm on what the villagers called the Frontier, the wild expanses west of the village that led into the thousand mile expanse of unexplored forest of the same name. There was nothing between Tarrin and the SandshieldMountains, a thousand longspans west, but trees and forest creatures, and the occasional river or hill. No human life existed out there, because the Frontier was the stronghold and bastion of the Forest Folk, intelligent beings of various types that preferred to live far away from the humans. There were none this close to the village, but it was the reason that nobody ventured west of the village. Eron fell in love with it as soon as he arrived, Tarrin had been told, and had promptly found a meadow so that he wouldn't have to cut down trees and built the farm that they lived on today. Eron still had the Ranger blood in him, and liked to live in the forest, away from the village and its noise and distractions. The Kael farm was the only human settlement west of Two Step creek, about a longspan towards the village from the farm. The farm itself was about three longspans out from the village, just far enough to make visiting an endeavor but not so far out that it took half the day to get there.

  Unusual people, living in an unusual place, so the villagers whispered.

  Tarrin didn't really miss it. He liked the wild forest, the same as his father, and he learned early in life that his feared mother made the women shoo their children away from him when he was in the village. Especially the mothers of the girls. But Tarrin was strikingly handsome now that he was grown, and the mothers had a hard time convincing their daughters that the blond c
hild of the wild Elke Kael wasn't worth their time. He'd grown up out among the ancient oaks and maples, birch and blueleaf trees, and when his sister Jenna was old enough, he started taking her. But she didn't like it too well; while Tarrin was his mother's son, Ungardt to the core, Jenna had inherited the gentle, mild ways of her father's Sulasian heritage. She was every bit the lady, even at thirteen. Granted, she was a lady that could put an arrow through a squirrel's eye at two hundred paces, but she was still feminine. Jenna had done some of the Ungardt training, enough to be able to defend herself from an attacker, but she hadn't studied the fighting arts the same way Tarrin had. She was wicked with a short-staff, and was probably the best shot from Aldreth to Torrian with a bow.

  Tarrin had lived here all his life, but it wasn't his dream to stay here. His parents knew this, and accepted it. Tarrin wanted to be like his father, to go out and see the world, experience what was out there. He wanted to visit the capital of Sulasia, Suld, one of the grandest cities in the Twelve Kingdoms of the west. He wanted to sail on an Ungradt longship like his mother had, he wanted to visit the island city of Dayisè, the grand capital of Shacè. He wanted to see the Fountain of Swans in Toran, he wanted to see the Dragon statue in Draconia. There was a whole lot of life out there beyond the boundaries of the village, and it was waiting for him.

  Today's festival was a part of that dream. Two days ago, two strangers had entered the village. One of them, a petite, dark-haired woman, was a katzh-dashi, one of the Sorcerers of Suld. A wielder of magic, and a person that the entire village avoided. Magic was an accepted part of life, especially in Sulasia, but a practitioner of it was a strange being with awesome power, and that made the common village folk a bit nervous. Tarrin had seen katzh-dashi before. Every five years, they scoured the entire kingdom of Sulasia, looking for people who had the spark, the natural talent, to use the power of Sorcery. When they found them, they were taken back to the Tower of Six Spires in Suld and trained in the ability, so they could control it. If they wanted to, they could remain for extensive training to become katzh-dashi themselves. But if they didn't, they were taught enough to be no danger to others, and then released to do as they would.

  It was the man that had arrived with her that interested Tarrin. He was a man of average height, wearing ornate plate armor and a small helmet that was fringed by his curly black hair, and he moved like a wolf. That was a Knight, one of the special warriors that were trained specifically to act as the physical complement to a Sorcerer's magical power. The Knights were attached to the Church of Karas, the patron god of all Sulasia, and served the Church when not needed by the katzh-dashi. The training school for the Knights was on the Tower grounds itself, and it produced some of the best warriors in the world. A Knight gave an Ungardt nightmares; they could even hold their own against the legendary Selani, the Desert Folk, a race of non-humans that dwelled in the Desert of Swirling Sands, far east of Aldreth. A Selani warrior was rumored to be able to take ten armed men with nothing but his hands and feet. A single Knight was usually enough of a deterrent to stop a good sized raider band.

  While the Sorceress looked for youngers with the spark of Sorcery, the Knight would be scouting for potential applicants to the KnightsAcademy. Most Knights were nobles, or the sons of men who could afford to bribe their children in. But the Knights always looked for people with natural talent. If Tarrin could talk to him, or impress him, he may be allowed to go with them to Suld and petition for formal admittance. His father had taken that step, and had applied, and took their test. But he failed it. Eron was good, but he didn't have the special spark that was needed for a Knight. He went on to have an illustrious career in the army. Tarrin was fully aware that he barely had half a chance to get in. But he'd been taught to go after his dreams. Especially when they weren't impossible ones.

  Tarrin stopped for a moment, looking down. There was a track in the soft loam of moss under a tree. It was large, obviously made by someone wearing a boot. But it was huge; the man who made it had to be at least a head taller than him, and weigh almost twice as much. He saw several more, tracking back towards the open forest. He grunted a bit as the heavy deer shifted on his back, so he decided to ask about it when he got back. The deer was too heavy to go investigating, and he wasn't about to set it down and leave it.

  A bit later, Tarrin emerged from the treeline not too far from the house. It was a large affair, made of carefully shaped logs and chinked together, with a stone gray slate roof. The house was huge for only four people, with an excavated basement and an attic, and it had six rooms on the first floor. Tarrin occupied the loft-like second floor, which served as his room. His parents occupied the largest room, in the back, and Jenna's room wasn't small either. The other three rooms served as the living room, kitchen, and a storage room. The cellar had a deeper room that held a magical object--it was a piece of metal that radiated intense cold all the time, one of the rare prizes brought back from Eron's many travels. It served to keep their food frozen and preserved, allowing them to stockpile large amounts of food against the often brutal Sulasian winters that howled down out of the Skydancer Mountains, only three days' travel to the north. They often sold the surplus food in the winter to the needy, but were known to share with those who lacked the ability to pay. Paying the worth of something was the honest thing to do--Aldreth villagers were almost legendary for their practical good sense and honesty--but charity was only right and proper.

  There were three other buildings in the huge meadow that served as the Kael farm. The barn was on the far side of the house, not large as barns went, but more than large enough to store most of their farming utensils and hay. They had a shearing shed for the twenty sheep that were kept in a pen beside the barn, the source of the wool that Elke would spin into cloth and sew into clothing. His mother may be a warrior, but she was just as good at all the things that wives were supposed to do, and many that most wives were not supposed to know. She could tan leather, weave cloth and fend it, even dye it. And she was an outstanding seamstress and an even better cook. Elke made functional, rugged clothing that would last for years. And with the right kind of leather, she could make leather shoes and boots. Tarrin never ceased to be amazed at the scope and breadth of his mother's ability. He wondered how she found time to learn it all. The third building was the stillery, which sat just downstream of the small brook that passed right by the house. That was his father's passion and favorite hobby. He would spend all day out in that building, brewing homemade beer and brandy, and occasionally apple wine. He was quite expert at it, and his home brewed ale was always in demand down at the Road's End Inn, the village's only inn. Sometimes merchants bought it from him to sell in Torrian.

  Much of their farming went for this hobby. They grew hops and barley in addition to wheat, corn, turnips, tomatos, melons, and their groves of apple and pear trees. The sheep were part of the small motley crew of animals living in the farmyard. The sheep shared space with the chickens and geese, and the three pigs in the wallow on the opposite side of the barn. They had three cows, one for milk, that were pastured on the far side of the barn, inside a small fenced area, and they had two horses that split time between being mounts and pulling a plow. Theirs was a prosperous little farmstead, full of plenty and bright in its love of family. He was truly happy here, but the call of the road was something that he couldn't deny. He'd come back here when he was content to settle, find a wife, and live here with his aging parents. By then, Jenna would be married, and she'd have convinced her husband to live here rather than with his own family. It was an unusual circumstance, but he knew his sister. She wouldn't live anywhere else; she shared Tarrin's passion for this little farm, and she would not let herself live anywhere else. She'd make her husband live here.

  Jenna came around the side of the house, her dark hair obviously wet. Her simple brown dress was damp around the collar, and she had it partially unbuttoned at the neck. Jenna was just starting to develop into the attributes of a woman. Twice already t
heir mother had had to let out the bust of her dresses, and she'd thickened around the hips substantially in the last two months alone. Though she had their father's dark hair and features, she was going to have a body like her mother. Tall, buxom, and hippy. Not quite as tall as her mother, but she would be at least a hand taller than any other woman in the village. She would be taller than her father, that much was for certain. Eron Kael was half a head shorter than his wife, and it wasn't because he was short. Eron was one of the taller men in the village. She looked up at him intently.

  "It's about time!" she said. "Mother sent me out to get you. We're waiting for you."

  "Well, I'm here," he told his younger sister with a grin.

  "You got a big one," she said gruffly. The relationship between them was complex. It was cordial, and they truly loved each other, but as siblings do, they tended to fight from time to time. They'd had a rather rousing squabble about whose turn it was to feed the animals earlier. In her present mood, that was the closest thing to a complement he would get.

  "Let's get it on the cart and get going," he said without preamble.

  "Mother! He's back!" Jenna shouted as she turned around. The cart was out front, with the roan Treader hooked up to it. It was laden with his sword and staff, some of the clothes his mother would sell today, a few kegs and casks of his father's ale and wines, and one of the many bushel of arrows that his father had made during the winter. Eron Kael was even better at fletching than he was at brewing. Twenty years as a Ranger had taught him the art of arrow making unlike anything a standard fletcher could match. Tarrin had watched and learned, and he could make good arrows himself, but they were nothing like his father's. It was the major source of income in the house. The farming, the brewing, these were just supplements or hobbies. Eron Kael's arrows were the major part of the family's income. Men came from as far as Ultern to buy them. He also made bows, but not as often. He stated more than once that he didn't have the patience to make bows much anymore, but one of his bows could be sold for a hundred gold lions to a true archery adherant. It took him a month to make a bow, where he could craft ten arrows a day. Occasionally he got the itch to craft a truly exceptional bow. He would spend up to four months on it, but it was well worth the effort, because those special bows were always incredibly accurate, and most of them had tremendous power. Those he could sell for hundreds of lions.