This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or persons is coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by J.B. Simmons
All rights reserved
Cover by Jocker Benitez.
ISBN 978-1949785012
Published in the United States by Three Cord Press
www.jbsimmons.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
THE RED TOWER | Book Two of the Five Towers
Map
1
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THE RED TOWER
Book Two of the Five Towers
On life’s vast ocean diversely we sail,
Reason the card, but passion is the gale;
Nor God alone in the still calm we find,
He mounts the storm, and walks upon the wind.
- Alexander Pope
Map
1
THERE IS NO BLUE when I wake up. Dark, heavy furs wrap around me like a bear’s coat. Two torches light up the rough stone walls of the cramped cave, giving it a reddish glow. I sit up and feel something at my neck. Inch by inch my fingers prod around the smooth metal band. There’s no clasp. My throat clenches.
I stand slowly. My legs ache and my head throbs as I stagger to the cave wall where there’s a wooden door. It doesn’t have a handle and doesn’t budge when I push it. There’s no window or other hint of where I am. My stomach churns. My hand wipes parched lips and comes away covered in crusted blood.
Blood.
Red.
It hits me like a wrecking ball: this is the Red Tower.
I’ve come from the Blue Tower, memories intact. A smile lifts the corners of my bloodied lips. Memories! Red could have wiped my memories away but didn’t. I fought in the Scouring. I lost Kiyo, but got her back. I captured Emma from Yellow. Abram let me look into the Sieve. I saw who I was before, Paul Fitzroy, the doctor. My Mom should be somewhere in this tower. I’m a prisoner, apparently, but the people here might know who I am. They will want me to fight for them.
Someone will come.
The pile of furs invites me to lie down again. The torches make shadows dance along the craggy wall. The warmth lulls me back to sleep. I curl up, ignoring my rumbling belly, and sleep again.
A knocking sound wakes me.
My eyes open just as the door does. A woman strides in, with long auburn hair and amber eyes that sparkle like jewels. Her red dress has slits cut at the sides and fits snugly up to her neck. It looks like it’s made of flecks of metal, glimmering in the torchlight.
She leans against the open door and crosses her arms. “Welcome, boy.”
Abram had said the exact same thing when I arrived in Blue. She must be the leader. She’s nothing like Abram, not even like Sarai. She’s younger and...stunning. “Who are you?” I ask.
“Presumptuous,” she says, looking down at me.
“That’s your name?”
Her red lips stretch into a faint grin. “No, that’s what you are. I’m the leader of this tower. Rahab.”
“So you know me?” I ask.
“Cipher. Dr. Fitzroy. Doesn’t matter. You’re a lump of coal here. You’re not even lit yet.”
She tosses some clothes on the floor, then holds out her hand. A small flame flickers above her palm. There is no candle, nothing to burn. She must be able to summon fire. And she knows who I am.
“How do you do that?” I ask.
“The same way you can put it out,” Rahab says. “Give it a try.”
Her words make me remember my power over the wind and the air. I try it, just like before. I focus and pull at the wind. It doesn’t obey. Before, I could gather up the air in my mind and weave it, but I can’t see it anymore. I try one more time, harder. Still nothing.
I shake my head.
She looks amused. Her palm closes and her fire disappears.
“Get dressed,” she says, as she turns her back to the room and to me.
Emerging from the den of fur, I hold up the clothes to the light. The pants are reddish brown leather—smooth but not as soft as the robes of the Blue Tower. It’s tougher. Like armor. The shirt has leather laces to draw tight at the top of the chest. The shoes are sturdy boots up to the calf, with the same kind of laces.
Rahab keeps her back turned as I slide on the clothes and pace a couple times across the tiny room, getting a feel for the tight fit. These clothes are not made for sitting in a classroom or going sailing. They are for hiking across a desert or up a mountain. Maybe for battle.
“Okay, I’m ready.”
She leads me out. The hallway has rough red rock walls like the cave where I woke up. The floor has been worn smooth. Bright flames flicker from torches every twenty steps or so. Everything glows like lava.
Just like my beginning in Blue, I do not see anyone else. But now I know they’re here. I know what’s outside. The Scouring and four other towers. I also know where I came from, and why I came here: to find my Mom. It was not easy to leave Emma, Kiyo, and Hank, but Abram said my Mom would be here.
“I’m looking for someone,” I say.
Rahab doesn’t slow down or look back. “Everyone here is.”
“But this is different. It’s my Mom.”
“What’s her name?”
“Rose Fitzroy.”
“She’s here,” Rahab says. “Do what you’re told and you might see her.”
Her red dress swishes back and forth as she walks quickly down the hallway. Unlike Blue, we are heading down, not up. And it gets warmer, not cooler; redder, not bluer.
By the time we reach an iron door, there are no more torches on the walls. The only light comes from the flame hovering an inch above the woman’s hand. It reflects rubies set into the door, forming an intricate flame pattern. The woman holds her hand to the pattern, then nudges the door slightly. It swings open without a sound. A rush of air comes from inside and fills my nostrils with a suffocating smell. It is hot, dank, and noxious.
“Go in,” she says.
But there’s no way I want to do that. “It smells like burning sewage.”
She glares at me. “You’re not in Blue anymore.”
For some reason, her tone makes me angry. I know this isn’t the Blue Tower. I’m not a novice. I have risen to the top of Blue. I have captured from Red in the Scouring. I came here by choice, not just as a captive. Doesn’t she know this? And why does she want me to go in this door? Some kind of punishment? Fear and anger are a potent mix. My mind clinches like a fist and I manage to grab something, just a little—the air. I funnel it into a small wind that blows into the woman’s flame, flickering over her palm, and douses it.
There, still got it!
My satisfaction does not last long. Rahab overpowers me, shutting down my control o
f the air and bringing her flame back.
“Not bad,” she says, “for Blue. Now you will enter.”
I stand up straighter and swallow in fear. “What’s in the room?”
She shakes her head. “You’ll see.”
I inch forward, hesitantly. I glance back at her.
She motions for me to go on, flames now hovering above both of her hands to light the way.
I try one last time to seize the air. But I can’t. It seems I have little choice. I could trust Abram and Sarai. Maybe I can trust this woman, too. I take two more steps.
The iron door suddenly swings shut behind me.
It’s pitch black inside. I snap around and bang on the door. I shout for Rahab to open it. But I know she won’t.
Calm down, I tell myself. It must be a test.
My heart thuds quickly. My back presses against the door. Between my breaths, I hear another sound. It is deep and terrible. It is growling.
It can’t be more than ten feet away.
A sliver of light appears in the darkness. At first it runs parallel to the ground, but it grows into a round, yellow eye. The eye is as tall as I am, with a vertical black slit like a snake’s.
2
A DEEP RUMBLE comes from near the yellow eye. The sound is terrifying, like rock grinding against rock at the heart of the earth. “Cipher...” it says.
How does it know who I am? I cower back against the door, still sealed tight.
“You are...cold,” the creature rumbles.
Maybe I should be comforted that the beast is talking instead of eating me. But the horrible sound and smell and the complete darkness suffocate me. The only thing I can see is the giant eye, staring at me. An eye like that means a mouth that can swallow me whole in one bite. I want to ask: what are you? A monster? A snake? A dragon?
Instead I’m frantically searching the door for a latch or handle but feel nothing. I bang against the iron, slamming my fist over and over. I start to shout. Maybe the woman outside will show mercy.
Over my own voice, I hear a surprising sound: laughter. I look back and the yellow eye blinks. “Get out,” it says, sounding amused. “You’re not ready...”
Ready for what? I think, just as the door starts to open. I slide through as soon as I can. The door closes immediately behind me, sealed as it was before. The stench of the dark room and the creature lingers.
Rahab waits with flames hovering above one hand. “That was quick,” she says.
I rise to my feet. “What was that?”
“It depends on what you are. Let’s see.” She takes my right hand and studies the back of it. The scar is still there, the one from the Blue Tower with a long vertical line crossed by a shorter horizontal one. She runs a finger along the scar, then releases my right hand and takes my left. It has no scar. She glances at it only briefly before letting go. “It also depends on what you will become.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.
She just smiles and starts walking, leading me back the way we came. I ask her more questions but she ignores me. I’m left wondering why she took me there, why the beast said what it said.
Eventually my thoughts turn to Emma. I hope she won’t try to follow me here. But I miss her. We had connected, joined our powers. Maybe it was a mistake to leave her.
When we reach the cave where I first woke up, I hesitate before going in. “Will I be locked inside again?”
Rahab nods. “Someone will come for you.”
“Who?”
“One of the boys, task fourteen.”
“What’s task fourteen?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
Which, apparently, she’s not going to answer. “Can you tell me just one thing?”
“Try me.”
“Is my Mom okay? Rose?”
Rahab smiles down at me. Her lips are thick and red. “You sound like a boy from Blue. They like you to believe the past is so, so important. Here, in Red, what matters is passion—right now, in the present. What do you feel, Cipher? Are you cold? Lonely? Afraid? Want someone to lay with you? Warm you up?”
“I...no, I’m fine.” I blush, unsure of what to say.
“Always so cold,” she sighs. “No wonder Blue’s survivors need us. Ice has to melt.”
I’m not a survivor. I came here by choice. Besides, I thought the towers were supposed to show past mistakes that could be scoured. “Won’t the Red Tower show me something about the past?” I ask. “Is that what you mean by passion?”
“You think passion is a vice?”
“I guess so.”
“Oh, Abram, you’ve frozen another one...” She motions to the pile of furs. “Lay down, warm up, sleep.”
I move forward, but turn back. Rahab distracted me from my real question, and her dismissal of the past suddenly makes me worried. “Does my Mom remember me? Does she want to find her son?”
“Ah, always good to care what a woman wants,” Rahab says. “Rose has passions as we all do. When ice melts, it makes a useless mess, unless it is properly contained. We will teach you how to use your passion, to harness it as it was meant to be. We have no use for ice here.”
She turns to go, but I still want an answer. “So what about my Mom?”
“Someone will come to bring you to the Feasting Hall,” she says. “By all means, ask around while you’re there. You’ll meet plenty of girls. But you should know, you get only one in the Pairing.”
3
ANOTHER KNOCK AT the door wakes me. This time I’m on my feet fast. The two torches still flicker on the cave wall. There’s no way to tell whether it’s day or night.
The door opens a crack. “Hello? All good in there? Mind if I come in?”
It’s a boy’s voice, high and squeaky like an excited mouse.
“Anyone there?” he asks. “Helloooo?”
“Yes,” I say. “Come in.”
The door swings open and reveals a boy built like a bathtub. He’s about my height and three times as wide, with huge freckles dotting every square inch of his pale pinkish skin, like someone splashed him with mud. He wears a band around his neck as I do. It’s gleaming silver, like the band Emma and the other servants wore in the Blue Tower.
“Morning, morning!” he says cheerfully, holding out his hand. It’s hard to believe the squeaky voice comes from a boy so large. “I’m your new best friend, Seymour.”
We shake hands. His palm is sweaty.
“I’m Cipher.”
“Oh, I know all about you!” His eyes linger on the scar on my hand before he releases the handshake. “The boy wonder from Blue. The boy with the wind. The boy who waltzed right into the Red Tower. Gotta admit, I thought you’d be bigger!”
“Why?” I ask.
“Not everyone chooses to come to Red. Kind of crazy, really. But I don’t mind. We’re all a little crazy here. We feast on bacon. Our girls summon fire and tell us what to do. Yes, ma’am! What’ll it be? More bacon? Right away! That’s just how it goes, but I’ll tell you everything you need to know. You just listen to me, Seymour, and you’ll be just fine, boy wonder. Or would you prefer Cipher?”
This is...different. His rapid-fire words leave me feeling speechless. They must all know about me here. And this boy has told me more about Red than I learned about Blue in days.
“Cipher’s fine,” I say.
“You got it, Cipher. I see you already put your jerkin on. Nice work. Some people forget to tie their laces.” He fingers the leather string pulled taut at his rotund chest. “Can’t forget that! Unless you want to be burned, of course. Lots of burning here, I’ll tell ya. But I’ll keep you out of the fires if I can. And don’t worry about that little collar. Nothing special. All of us boys wear one. Like pet dogs! But we’re free enough. You’ll get used to it. You ready for the best time of the day?”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“The feast! Bacon and beans. It never gets old as long as you have the right spices.” He pats a little pouch h
anging at his waist, then turns for the door. “Come on, follow me, good old Seymour, and let’s get to the food.”
He waddles out the door and starts down the hall, with me following. He never stops talking. I manage maybe seven words, and he spews forth information like a geyser. He hardly seems like the discerning type, so who knows how much of what he says is true. But at least I learn some basics about the Red Tower as we make our way through the cave-like tunnels. I learn that boys in Red do not have any powers but get paired with the girls. The girls can summon and control fire, like Rahab. Apparently each girl gets her own nice room, with a fireplace, while the boys all sleep in a big room called the Barracks.
“The Barracks is boring,” Seymour tells me, “except for the training ground, if fighting is your thing, anyway. There’s lots of weapons. The boys spend most of their time there, fighting and hanging out. After we finish our tasks, of course. The sooner you finish, the sooner you get to come back to the training ground. Better to get back as soon as you can!”
“Why’s that?” I ask.
“Because in the Barracks, you are safe and free. No girls allowed. Not even Rahab comes in there. We do what we want as long as we report to meals each day and finish our tasks.”
“What happens if we don’t?”
“Don’t what?” Seymour asks, as if he’d never thought of disobeying.
“Don’t report for meals, don’t do our tasks.” My fingers slide smoothly over the collar at my neck. “Whatever it is they want us to do here.”
“It’s not they, my friend. It’s her. Rahab. She’s the leader here. Don’t mess with her.” Seymour wipes his hand over his eyes and his forehead, where there’s a thin layer of sweat. “She’ll wipe you quicker than paper burns. Then you start back at the bottom. It’s happened to most of us. But let me tell you, it sucks. That’s the place with the monster that smells like death. Rahab took you there, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you know what I mean. Heck of a way to wake up. The boys tell me I’ve been there more than anyone. I don’t mind too much, since I only remember the last time, but that’s still enough. I’ll do anything to avoid that monster.”
The Red Tower (The Five Towers Book 2) Page 1
