The White Tower (The Aldoran Chronicles: Book 1)

by Michael Wisehart

  His father scratched the back of his neck with the stem of his pipe. “That’s a good question. We don’t really know. At one time they were held and tested, just to see if their gifts were safe or not. Those they believed to have non-violent abilities were released on their word they would never use them, while others who were said to be too dangerous to release were either locked away or executed.”

  Ty shuddered at the thought, knowing it could one day be his fate.

  “It was said that after the coming of the fae, back during the Second Age, Aldor was a land rich with magic. But what we didn’t know was that the magic they brought with them could turn even the most righteous of men into the vilest of tyrants.” Ty’s father studied his face for a moment as if looking for a certain response before continuing. “Magic can lead to corruption, son, and the more magic we allow around us the more dangerous it is for our world. If not for the Great Purge and the outlawing of magic, we might have completely wiped our race from history—”

  “Yes, I know,” Ty interjected with dramatic flair, “and now we are living in the splendor of the Third Age, an age of peace without the dangers of magic.” Ty shrugged. “We already learned about the evils of magic in school.”

  “Yes, but—” His father leaned forward and pointed the end of his pipe in Ty’s direction, making sure Ty caught what he was about to say, “is what you learned the truth?” His father’s eyes narrowed.

  Ty was afraid to answer. He wasn’t sure if he would say the right thing. His father was obviously trying to make a point.

  “The truth is, Ty, that magic is just that . . . It’s magic. It’s not good or evil. It’s a tool, like your mother’s rolling pin, or Adarra’s books, or even Breen’s bow. Evil does not come from the tool but from the one who wields it. Magic, like anything else in this world, can be used for good or evil.” His father cocked his head to the side. “Does that make sense?”

  Ty considered for a moment. “Yes, sir. I never really thought about it like that. I just thought magic would eventually corrupt anyone who used too much of it.” Ty figured that was good to know. He had always been careful not to use his magic too readily; afraid of getting the taint he’d been warned about in school. “Then why are they telling people that magic is so dangerous?”

  “Fear.”

  “Fear?”

  “If those who covet power can make you afraid of the very thing that has the potential to keep them from that power, then half their battle is already won. You’ll be surprised what people are willing to do, or give up, in order to feel safe.” His father laid his pipe on the stand beside his chair and stood as Ty’s mother entered the main room with satchel in hand. “It’s the oldest trick in the book, son.” His father took the bag and tucked it under one arm before turning to kiss his wife.

  “There’s fresh bread, a couple slices of the white cheese, and a cut of salted pork for your supper, and of course some mulled cider to wash it down. Just promise me you’ll be careful. Do you hear me, Kellen?”

  “Nilla, you are a blessing from the Creator.”

  “I know.” She leaned in and kissed him once again, holding on for what Ty believed was an inappropriate amount of time while standing in front of their children.

  “Okay, you can stop any time now,” Ty protested, eyeing the tips of his boots, trying to keep from watching the garish display of affection.

  His parents chuckled as they parted and his father rustled the front of Ty’s hair.

  Adarra made her way back into the main room and sat down to continue reading as the front door opened and Breen stepped through. “The horse is ready when you are.”

  “Thank you, Breen.” His father laid a hand on Breen’s shoulder. “Oh, by the way, how was the hunt? Any game?”

  Breen looked at Ty and cocked a single brow. “Not exactly.”

  Ty sighed. “It was my fault,” he said, slumping a little in embarrassment. “Breen had a lock on a large rack, but . . . Well, my shoulder started hurting again.” Without thinking, he reached for the top of his arm and rubbed the marked area.

  His father and mother shared an odd look that perked Ty’s curiosity.

  “Guess we can’t get them all. We’ll go out again next week.” His father stuffed his pipe in one of the inner pockets of his overcoat. “Now you all have fun in town tonight. I’m sorry I won’t be there to see you perform, Ty, but I know you’ll do well.”

  “Wait,” his mother said with a confused look. “We shouldn’t be going into town tonight, not with the Black Watch there.”

  “I think right now the safest thing for us to do is to keep up appearances,” his father said. “There will be folks at the performance expecting to see us. We don’t want people getting suspicious and asking questions. I’m sure you’ll be alright for tonight.”

  Ty sighed. He had almost hoped his father would have told them they didn’t have to go. The last thing he wanted to do right now was perform.

  “Alright,” his mother conceded, still not looking like she was altogether convinced. “Your father needs to be on his way, and you need to get some supper in you before we head into town.”

  “I’ll try to be back before morning. It all depends on how long it takes the council to discuss our options.” His father stepped through the door but then turned back around. “Oh, and, Breen, do keep your brother out of trouble.”

  His father’s smile might have been meant as humor, but his tone was anything but.

  Chapter 7 | Ty

  IT WAS A GOOD three miles before the forest opened and Ty and the rest of his family made their way out of the surrounding foliage and onto the main road leading into Easthaven. They kept their horses to a slow jog. Ty’s mother didn’t want to ruffle her good dress.

  Ty’s horse, Waddle, was more than happy to accommodate the slow pace. His name was honestly earned.

  Straight ahead was the East Hill Orchard. Ty wasn’t sure why they called it an orchard since it held nothing more than a few sporadic apricots, a couple of mulberry, and a rather large cherry blossom that stood dead center of the others, giving it a sense of undo admiration, considering the last time it had actually produced anything of worth was nearly a decade ago.

  Guiding their horses left, they skirted the edge of the orchard before cresting a small rise and catching a clear view of the Sidaran capital in the valley below. Easthaven, like a small jewel wrapped inside blue velvet, was nestled comfortably into the elbow of the East River.

  The only access for miles was the East Bridge, giving travelers a stable entrance in and out of the city. The bridge was constructed from the same river stone as most of the building’s foundations. It was a good fifty foot in length and its breadth could comfortably fit a pair of tinker wagons.

  Ty watched a couple of flat barges pass underneath as they made their way across.

  The city proper held a variety of shops, craftsmen, and residential living quarters that ranged from the upper-class estates just off of River Street to the back-alley shanties tucked out of sight near the outer perimeters. There was a full garrison, which throughout the year only maintained a trivial readiness of fighting men, a patroller building, which also operated as the local courthouse, and one good inn of note, which of course could only have been labeled as the East Inn.

  Ty had just managed to fasten his horse’s reins to an empty hitching post outside the three-story inn when a small rock hit him on the top of his head.

  “Ow!” Looking up, his eyes darted left and right as he tried to determine the culprit. “Which one of you threw that?”

  From over the top of Waddle’s saddle he caught a glimpse of Breen eyeing him with a rather serious expression. His brother kept jerking his head to the left. Ty shifted his gaze and saw three white-clad figures trotting down the road in their direction.

  “Blazes!” Following the others’ example, Ty ducked under the front of his horse and waited until they had not only passed, but had turned down the next street and out of sight.
“That was close,” he said peeking out from under Waddle’s chin. His horse nibbled at the top of his head. Ty swatted him away and combed his hand through his mop of blonde hair, attempting to straighten what the horse had undone. Waddle had a smug look on his face. It was not a very becoming look for a horse Ty thought, and stuck his tongue out at the animal.

  “Here, let me see it.” His mother walked over after licking her hand and wiped flat the part of Ty’s hair that was sticking up. “There, that’s better,” she said with a satisfied smile.

  Ty left Waddle tethered between Acorn and Thistle and followed his mother up the front steps of the inn.

  There was a small line already forming at the entrance. Ty’s mother stopped to chat with Bue Abaloff, the innkeeper, as he stood greeting people at the door.

  “Ah, I see you’ve brought your pipes with you, Master Ty. Will we have the pleasure of you playing tonight? I’ve heard good things.”

  Ty smiled and his hand naturally lifted to stroke the long wooden tubes rising from his outer jacket pocket. “I’m considering it, Master Abaloff.”

  “Good, good. I look forward to it.”

  Ty watched Adarra slide by their mother and inside the open foyer without a single glance in either direction as she held her latest volume up in front of her face to catch the light of the nearby lanterns. It was a wonder she managed to keep to her feet, Ty thought, with her nose constantly stuck in a book.

  Once inside, Ty scanned the room for a suitable table. It was more difficult than he might have expected. The place was filling quickly. He glanced up at the surrounding second floor balcony but there appeared to be even less seating up there.

  “I knew we should’ve left sooner,” Breen grunted in protest.

  “It’ll be alright,” his mother said before spotting someone she knew off to the right. “You three find a table and I’ll catch up with you in a bit.” She waved at her friend and disappeared into the crowd.

  The diffused light, settling across the main chamber from the large bay windows at the front and the two smaller windows on the right, aided the warm glow of the table lamps.

  Ty pointed to an empty spot near the front. “There’s one up there.”

  Breen turned around to see where he was pointing. “You go ahead and get us a table. I’m going to stay here and wait for Fraya.”

  Adarra looked up from her book and grinned. Ty didn’t need to be told twice. Grabbing his sister by the arm, he started pushing his way toward the open seats. They passed a set of narrow wooden stairs on the right which led to the second floor and its two adjoining hallways. Each hall held a number of overnight rooms, accounting for a small percentage of the inn’s profit.

  Ty’s quick maneuvering paid off as he grabbed the empty table just ahead of a group of elderly women who were still struggling to make their way through the crowd. Feeling a little guilty, he relinquished his rightful claim to the seats and opted for another table closer to the side exit.

  The noise in the room was increasing and conversations became harder to keep, unless the parties were willing to lean across their tables to carry them. This result, under most circumstances, would not have been of much concern. However, on special nights like the one they were experiencing, the majority of the women were wearing their most inviting attire and would be subject to ridicule if they were forced to lean too far across and reveal a little more than was modestly accepted. Then again, Ty observed with a smile, that was probably one reason for the abnormally high turnout of men.

  Ty was still scanning the room to see if he recognized anyone when Breen approached with a raven-haired girl on his arm. Ty had to admit Fraya was looking rather pretty this evening—maybe not beautiful, but quite appealing.

  With his muscular size, Breen had never lacked for girls fawning over him. But he had never been one for the overly affectionate types. It was Fraya’s work ethic and positive attitude which had attracted Ty’s brother. Ever since her mother, Cassyna, had passed away, as well as the recent death of her older brother, Fraya had shouldered the load of keeping up the household for her father and three younger siblings. She never once complained.

  “Good evening everyone,” Fraya said politely as Breen held her seat. Stepping around to the front of the chair, her hand brushed across the top of his fingers. “Why thank you, Breen, you’re quite the gentleman.” His brother’s face flushed around the edges.

  Ty rolled his eyes. How can someone so strong fall completely apart around someone so . . . so soft?

  “Hello, Fraya,” Adarra said with a warm smile as she lowered her book.

  Ty echoed his sister’s greeting.

  “My, don’t you look pretty tonight,” Ty’s mother said as she joined the others around the table. She smiled at Breen and winked, which only reddened Breen’s cheeks even more.

  They had just finished taking their seats when a young serving girl stepped through the crowd and up to the table. “Can I get you something?” Ty couldn’t remember the girl’s name, but by her lanky features and auburn hair she was clearly one of the Aboloffs.

  Breen looked at Fraya. “You want anything?”

  “I could use some tea,” she said. “Do you have any mint?”

  The serving girl thought a moment. “Papa said to tell people we’ve got mint and apricot.” She held her most cordial smile as she glanced around the table for a response.

  “Then I believe I’ll have some of your mint, please.”

  “And I’ll have the apricot,” Adarra said.

  “Make that two,” Ty’s mother said.

  The girl looked across the table at Breen and Ty, waiting for their orders.

  Ty’s brother’s face had a drawn expression as he fumbled around the front of his coat.

  “Get what you want, Breen,” their mother said as she dug around in her carry bag. “I can cover it.”

  “No, I’ve got it.” Breen’s face was really glowing now. Nothing more embarrassing than having your mother pay for your beau’s drink. Breen’s hand finally hit something in one of the pockets and he relaxed. “I’ll take some cider if you have it?” The girl nodded and smiled.

  Ty, not wanting to order the same drink as the girls, decided to follow his brother’s lead and ordered the cider as well.

  “The tea will be a copper and the cider, two,” she replied as she scanned the table for approval. Breen offered it with a nod.

  “Very good,” she said and performed a side-step that was meant as a curtsy but looked more like she had tripped on her left foot. “I’ll be right back with them.” She turned and disappeared back into the crowd.

  “She’s such a sweet girl,” his mother said. Ty noticed she was looking in his direction. He pretended he didn’t notice.

  Breen leaned forward in his seat. “We found out why the large crowd. Fraya heard that Lord Barl is planning on attending tonight. He’s coming to support his daughter’s performance.”

  A sinking feeling opened in the pit of Ty’s stomach. “Lyessa’s going to be here?” She would pick tonight to show up, just to spite me.

  “What’s wrong?” Fraya asked, noticing the change in his demeanor.

  Adarra was the first to speak. “Ty was going to play tonight—”

  “That’s wonderful,” Fraya said, leaning forward in her seat. “Breen has told me how well you play. I’m looking forward to hearing you.”

  “Well, you’ll have to keep looking. Cause it won’t be happening tonight. Not if she shows up.” Ty could hear his mother’s sigh from the other side of the table.

  Clearly realizing Fraya didn’t understand the situation, Breen spoke up. “Lyessa is sort of Ty’s—”

  “Nemesis, tormentor, unending source of embarrassment and humiliation!” Ty stared down at the table and furiously rubbed the tip of his fingers against the rough edge of the wood.

  “Lyessa and Ty were in school together,” Adarra explained, “at least until Father took him out to help with the work. There’s always been a rivalry
between the two, ever since they were kids.”

  “Yeah, she’s a stuck up, self-centered little—”

  “Ah . . . Watch it, Ty,” his mother scolded.

  “Well, she is. She treats me like . . . like I’m nothing more than her personal slave.”

  “And I’m sure you’ve never once antagonized her?”

  “No. Not really.” He spared a glance around the table. “Okay, maybe once or twice, but she deserved it.”

  Fraya smiled. “I think I get the picture.”

  The silence was thankfully broken by the serving girl as she returned with their tray of drinks.

  Breen pulled out three coppers to cover his and Fraya’s drinks while Ty’s mother counted out four more to cover her, Ty, and Adarra’s. In all the excitement he had forgotten to grab his coin pouch before leaving the house.

  “Thanks,” Ty said with a flip of the wrist. “I’ll pay for yours next time. I promise.” His mother raised an all-too-knowing eyebrow.

  He had no sooner taken a clean swallow of his cider when the crowds at the back parted and Overlord Barl walked through. The leader of Sidara slowly made his way in the direction of his designated table at the front. Just behind her father was Lyessa, hanging off the arm of some guy Ty didn’t recognize. She waltzed through the parting throng, forcing Ty to twist in his seat to get a better view of her escort.

  He watched as she glided across the room in such a manner as to attract every eye in the place. Her dress, even though quite modest by most standards, with its long silky sleeves and a neckline that didn’t plunge like the other young women, was the color of burnt gold.

  Lyessa was almost the perfect cliché with her sparkling emerald eyes and long flowing curls, only instead of them being sun-kissed, they were an angry red. Ty figured the Creator had a sense of humor when matching her hair to her temperament. He hated to admit it, but she did strike a stunning figure.

  She was a couple of years older than Ty, at eighteen, an obstacle which had not in any way hindered the two from indulging in their continual duels of wit. Ever since they were children, neither had been willing to concede a single defeat.