The White Tower (The Aldoran Chronicles: Book 1)

by Michael Wisehart

  A single guard stepped forward and raised his sword over his head. Orlyn kept his eyes open as he faced what he hoped would be a quick end. The guard swung for his neck, but the blade stopped with a clang just a few inches from his face as if it had struck an invisible wall. The guard was stunned.

  Orlyn was even more stunned when blood erupted from the guard’s neck and covered the front of Orlyn’s robes. He watched as the man’s throat ripped open the rest of the way. His screams were nothing but gurgled noises and his eyes rolled into the back of his head before collapsing.

  Reloria and Saleena shrieked in horror.

  The guards stopped their attack. Heads turned and eyes darted in every direction as they tried to understand what had just happened. A second guard suddenly cried out as his throat opened from ear to ear.

  Open panic ensued as men began to swing their blades in all directions, doing more damage to themselves than anything else. Others took off running, swearing curses on all who practiced magic.

  “Get back here, you cowards!” Captain Hatch screamed. The veins in his neck and face looked to be on the verge of exploding as his men turned and fled in all directions. Hatch raised his sword. Orlyn could see the fires of hatred in his eyes as he charged Fraya.

  Orlyn grabbed his staff and tried to get to his feet. A knife materialized from out of nowhere and plunged into Hatch’s back. The captain stumbled but was clearly too determined to stop. He lifted his sword and bellowed a battle cry.

  Reloria froze. “Fraya!”

  Orlyn moved to confront the Black Watch captain, but Hatch kicked him backwards on his way by.

  “No!” Saleena screamed and leaped in front of the young healer, throwing herself between Fraya and Hatch’s driving thrust. Orlyn watched as the captain’s huge piece of steel slid in one side of her and out the other, missing Fraya by only a hand’s-breadth.

  Hatch pulled the blade from Saleena’s chest and her limp body fell backwards and landed on top of Fraya, knocking her to the ground.

  “That’s one less bit of evil in this world,” the captain said with pride as he turned and raised his sword over his head. “Now to end this once and—”

  Hatch gasped for breath as a double-edged sword materialized out of thin air and ripped through the front of his white uniform. The captain had a look of confusion on his face as he dropped to his knees in front of Fraya. His sword fell from his hand. He just sat there looking at her. It was an awkward moment. He raised his head as a small woman with short white hair appeared beside him.

  He coughed up blood as his final breath was released. The captain’s head lowered to his chest, and if not for the sword, he would have looked like a man in prayer. Orlyn could have sworn he had seen a look of relief in the captain’s eyes before he died.

  With the death of three of their own, and the Black Watch either dead or fleeing, along with the sudden appearance of an invisible wielder, the remaining bulradoer decided the odds weren’t exactly stacked in his favor and made a tactical retreat. The unconscious bulradoer Orlyn had been fighting had apparently snuck off during their fight with the Black Watch, no doubt when he realized he no longer had a weapon.

  After checking to see if there was anything that could be done for Saleena, Fraya moved to help Orlyn, but he pushed her off. “Go see to Gilly and Eliab. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be here when you get back.” She nodded and headed for the old gatekeeper and the dwarf.

  Veldon dropped down beside where Orlyn was sitting. He saw Reloria lying unconscious on the ground beside Feoldor. “Reloria?”

  “She’s fine,” Orlyn said, “just had a bit of a fainting spell.” Veldon noticed the dagger sticking from Orlyn’s shoulder and reached over to pull it. “No, no, no. Let’s wait for the healer.”

  “Right. Probably a good idea.” Veldon studied the dagger a moment. “Fine looking handle, though.” Both men looked at each other and started to chuckle.

  Orlyn started to cough. “Don’t make me laugh. Here, help me up.” Veldon put a hand under Orlyn’s arm and they managed to make it to their feet. They slowly headed over to where Fraya was busy looking over their fallen comrades.

  To everyone’s amazement, both men were still hanging on, though Eliab by only a thread. Fraya started with the old gatekeeper, and then with what strength she still had, she turned her attention to Gilly. The midget had apparently only sustained a slight cut on his right arm and from there decided to play dead to stave off any further injuries. The ruse had worked.

  After removing Orlyn’s dagger, Fraya had been far too weak to give any sort of full-healing, but she did manage to close the wound enough to keep infection from setting in. Once her strength returned, she would continue.

  Orlyn turned to thank the white-haired assassin for saving their lives, but Sheeva had already vanished.

  “I hope Kellen has managed to keep Ty safe,” Veldon said, rubbing the top of his bald head with his hand. “If it was this bad for us, I hate to think what is happening to them. We need to get some horses.”

  Orlyn turned to the stables. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  Chapter 88 | Ty

  BODIES LITTERED the front lawn.

  It was a colorful mosaic formed from the aftermath of human confrontation, both the dying and the already dead.

  Outside their cottage, all was silent. On the inside, ears strained and eyes hopped from window to door and back again as the surviving members of the recent battle waited with bated breath for whatever dark intrigue was now about to be unleashed.

  Around the main room, Ty’s sister and mother moved about, washing wounds, smearing salves, and applying fresh bandages to the rest as they gathered their strength for another possible attack.

  Only two of the Sidaran Lancers had survived the earlier Tallosian incursion. However, both had sustained wounds that left them incapacitated. If not for Adarra’s knowledge of medicine from the journals she had been reading, neither would have survived long.

  From his spot in the corner, Ty listened with his mind as he stretched out his senses, grasping at the beyond and hoping to catch a glimpse of what they were going to face. He was weak, too weak to even stand, and the amount of magic he was able to expel was nearly nonexistent. But there in the distance, a shape started to form in the back of his mind. It wasn’t the first time he had encountered this dark sentience. On a small hill overlooking a valley of dry bones, he had connected with it. A consciousness that held but a single thought: to feed!

  “It’s coming,” he said, almost an afterthought. Ty could feel the silence in the room as everyone immediately ceased what they were doing.

  “What’s coming?” his father asked.

  “Is it the creature?” His mother held a small mug of tea halfway to her husband’s swollen lips.

  Ty nodded. His eyes still shut in concentration. “It’s almost here.” He could feel it, but this time, what he felt was much larger by comparison—much, much larger. He quickly opened his eyes and turned to face the rest of the room. “And it’s not alone.”

  The taste of fear lingering within the cottage threatened to choke Ty like a heavy morning fog settling across the forest floor—hindering all sight and leaving him to rely on his less-used senses for support. It was crippling at best.

  Ty’s abilities granted him a greater acuity of hearing, and so he was the first to hear it when the clicking came into range. His father’s head was the second to lift, and then his brother as the cracking and snapping reached their trained ears. Others soon took notice of the unfamiliar sound as it resonated through the small space they occupied.

  “By the powers!” Lord Barl glanced around. “What could be making such a noise?” He hobbled over to the windows and looked out at the empty yard. He glanced to his left at the barn. “I don’t see anything.”

  Holding a clean dressing to his shoulder, Ty’s father made his way over beside the overlord.

  Ty took a moment to gain his own footing, testing his strength. He knew wha
t little magic he had originally controlled had been thoroughly depleted in his confrontation with Mangora, and any further use would most likely result in his death.

  The faint clicking noises had increased into a low rumble as everyone gathered around the windows, searching for some indication of its origin, everyone except Aiden, who was still lying on the floor coughing up mouthfuls of blood, and Adarra, who was busy doing everything she could to stave off his passing.

  Ty could feel them. “They’re here.”

  Feet shuffled even faster from one side of the room to the other as everyone tried to catch their first glimpse.

  “There.” Kellen pointed toward the western edge of the woods. As tight as they could, everyone bunched together to peer out the bay window at the copse of trees on the far side of the house.

  “I don’t see anything,” Barl’s statement was punctuated with a grunt of exasperation.

  “Me either,” Lyessa said, trying to poke her head around her father’s.

  “Not there.” Kellen raised his finger and pointed at the top of the window. “There.” All heads tilted back, shifting their focus from the ground to the tops of the trees as the first of the great spiders made their way out of the uppermost branches.

  “By the unholy powers . . .” Barl didn’t even bother to hide the tremor in his voice.

  The others sputtered similar agreements while the remaining observed in silent horror as the trees came alive with movement. Spiders poured out by the hundreds. Ty watched as one enormous spider crawled out of the woods and skittered its way across the lawn to Mangora’s side. It was as tall as a horse. Raising her hand, the witch rubbed her fingers across its thick hide.

  “There it is,” his father said, “the alpha arachnobe.”

  Lyessa’s father turned to Ty and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Son, we’re going to need your help now more than ever.”

  “I’m sorry, milord,” Ty said, lowering his eyes to look at his hands. “But I’ve got nothing left.”

  Barl glanced around at the others, but no one bothered to say anything. “Well, I . . .” The overlord cleared his throat. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.” He gently patted Ty’s shoulder, trying to look reassuring but instead giving the appearance of a man who had just received word that his house had burned, his wife had left him, and his daughter had run off with the town drunk—deflated and in the throes of utter despair.

  “Ty, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. You fought well.” His father turned to inspect Breen’s wounds. “How are you holding up?” Kellen handed Breen one of their swords and leaned his large recurve up against the side of the table, along with a few of their remaining arrows.

  Breen reached out and took the bow, pulling back on the string to test his strength. “I’m good.” Gently, he prodded his wrapped midsection. “There’s nothing like killing a few dozen Northmen to loosen the joints for a few hundred spiders.” His smile was less than convincing. Actually, Ty thought it was quite unsettling.

  His father gave his brother a proud slap on the shoulder, causing him to wince ever so slightly.

  “Here,” Adarra said, holding out a small leather pouch for her mother to take.

  “What’s this?” she asked, feeling its weight in her hand.

  “It’s the last of my hemper vine.” When she saw the confused look on her mother’s face, she added, “It helps reduce swelling from, well . . .” She tugged on a lock of her brown hair as she glanced around at the curious faces. “Bug bites.”

  There was a brief silence before the entire room burst into laughter. The gaiety of the moment was shortened as the sound of the approaching horde grew louder.

  Kellen was the first to speak. His words were simple yet direct, and they brought a sense of sobriety to their situation. “We need to barricade ourselves in.”

  Chapter 89 | Ty

  “WHAT IF WE made a run for it?” Barl asked, using his sword like a crutch as he helped stack some of the loose chairs in front of the bay windows. “If we could make it to the horses . . .” The overlord didn’t finish his thought. He shook his head and sighed.

  Even Ty could see that wouldn’t work.

  “We wouldn’t make it ten feet before they cut us down,” his father said as he helped Breen lift the heavy oak table into place. “They have the house completely surrounded. The only reason the witch hasn’t sent them in yet is because she’s probably still hoping to get her hands on Ty.”

  Barl snorted his discontentment with the situation as he moved over to the fireplace and rested one arm on the mantle. He watched Kellen and Breen as they upturned the table, barricading the front glass.

  Ty was feeling a little better after having downed some of their earlier meal’s leftovers. He still wasn’t up to using any form of magic, but he felt like he could make good use of the spare sword Lyessa had given him. It had belonged to one of the dead lancers who had given their lives to protect them. The leather binding felt oddly comforting in his hands. He loosened his grip when he noticed his knuckles turning white.

  Adarra, with Lyessa’s help, dragged a rather unresponsive Aiden from the center of the room over to the far wall alongside the other two injured lancers. He continued to groan in delirium. They did their best to stop the bleeding while Breen and Nilla went from room to room locking down windows, latching shutters, and barring doors.

  Ty watched from the corner as his father counted the arrows in his quiver. Looking around the room, Ty studied the drawn faces. He could feel the thumping of his own heart at the thought of what was coming. He would have rather faced an entire army of Tallosian savages than what was scurrying around outside waiting for them.

  Huddled in a group after finishing their makeshift blockade, the survivors waited, listening as hundreds of legs skittered across the yard, up the trees, and over the roof of their dwelling. Short of a miracle, there was no way out of this one, and Ty’s miracle allotment had been depleted during their last engagement.

  Ty’s mother gently interlocked her fingers with his father’s. “We are together,” she said. “You couldn’t ask for more than that.”

  “Aye. We’ve been blessed with a wonderful family. No man could count himself more fortunate.” He leaned over and kissed the top of her head.

  Ty noticed Lord Barl had a snug arm wrapped around Lyessa. The overlord’s eyes misted under the emotion of whatever they were discussing—no doubt their final goodbyes.

  “What are they waiting for?” Barl finally asked, his patience giving over to anxiety. “Why don’t they just get it over with?”

  As if in answer to his question, they heard Mangora’s voice ring out above the clatter of the horde of creatures. “This is your last chance! If you send out the boy, I’ll grant you a quick death! If not . . . my spiders have a voracious appetite!”

  Ty peeked through a crack between the left end of the table and the rocker where Adarra often read. He could see Mangora standing there with arms crossed, obviously waiting for a response. “Well? What will it be? Do you come out, or do we come in?”

  Ty’s father took a step toward the pile of benches, chairs, tables, and boxes to give their reply. “You step foot in this house, witch, and I give you my word, you’ll never step out again!”

  A high-pitched screech was all the warning they received as the legion of spiders rained down on their position.

  Kellen released the last of his arrows in between the table and a few randomly piled chairs. An unnatural screech could be heard on the other side as his shafts drove straight through their marks, releasing a warm spray of green liquid as the next spider crawled over it. Breen stood beside Ty and unloaded the last of his as well. Each shot landed true, bringing down three more.

  “Six down . . . hundreds to go,” Breen said over his shoulder in his own sarcastic way. Tossing his bow to the side, he drew his sword and joined the others as they chopped off spider legs as fast as they poked their way through. Large angular limbs wrapped in slick leather
y sinew flopped at Ty’s feet, saturating the wooden flooring with their blood. The stink was like nothing he had ever smelled before. His gag reflex nearly took over.

  Ty spotted an opening near Lyessa where one of the spiders was pushing back Adarra’s rocker. As quick as his weak body would let him, he leaped forward and drove his blade through the small opening. The spider on the other side shrilled and a squirt of green liquid shot back and hit him in the face. In all the excitement, he had forgotten to close his mouth.

  “Ahhh!” He spat all over the floor. “Flaming toad stools! That stuff is retched!” He did his best to purge his tongue with the back of his sleeve.

  Beside him, Lyessa was laughing. “That’ll teach you to keep your mouth shut!” She chopped another set of furry legs in half as they struggled to break through the wooden barrier.

  A loud crash from one of the back rooms brought them all around with a start. “They’re in the house!” His father left the others and ran as fast as his gimp leg would let him down the hallway just as the first of the spiders burst through Adarra’s bedroom door.

  Ty pulled back from his place at the wall to see if his father needed his help.

  “Kellen!”

  At the sound of his name, Kellen turned as Nilla tossed him one of her large kitchen knives. Grabbing it out of the air, he launched it down the hall, driving it deep between the spider’s three eyes. Flailing and hissing, it tried lurching forward, but only managed a few confused steps before collapsing. The next one was already on top of the first and working its way over when Kellen met it with a resounding battle cry. Slicing and stabbing as best he could in such a confined space, he held it at bay. He thrust his sword into its lower abdomen as it reared. Slumping immediately, it died atop the other.

  His father’s clothes were now soaked in the spider’s blood and his skin had begun to turn a faint green. “This stuff reeks!” he said, flinging the excess goo from his arms like a dog shaking water from its coat.