The Red Citadel and the Sorcerer's Power

by Craig Halloran

  Dizon rode in the saddle behind Finster. Rinny rode behind Moth. The girl couldn’t even get her arms around the broad man’s waist. Her fingers clung to the goatskin trousers at the side. The horses worked their way through the forest, thick in brush, elm, poplar, and oak trees.

  “Lord Finster, can we stop in a tavern to eat?” Rinny said. Her face was pressed against Moth’s back. The shine in her eyes had dulled. “I’m hungry.”

  “No. If you wanted to eat, you shouldn’t have come. I made no promises to feed you.” He pushed back into Dizon. “Either of you.”

  “We’ll eat later, Rinny. Control yourself,” Dizon warned her daughter.

  “I don’t want to eat any more dried meat and hard cheese. I’d rather eat bark.”

  “That can be arranged.” Finster gestured to their surroundings. “There is a veritable buffet all around.”

  Rinny frowned. “That’s not what I meant.” She turned her head aside.

  Finster sighed. He hadn’t drunk in two days. Without wine to dull his senses, numbing the chronic burning sensation in his back that the scarab brought, it felt like a hot coal was between his shoulders. He shifted in the saddle. One of Dizon’s hands massaged his neck and back muscles. “You are a comfort, Dizon, that much I must admit. But why you would follow me on this journey perplexes me.”

  “It should be obvious by now. If it’s not, you are as blind as you are bald.”

  “Well, I’m not entirely bald.”

  “Then I hope you aren’t entirely blind either.” She hugged him from behind. “Relax, Finster. Don’t take it all on yourself. Share what is on your mind.”

  The succulent blonde’s soothing voice convinced him. “You know of the Circle, I suppose?”

  “Yes, they are the assassins’ guild of the Seven Kingdoms.”

  “So, you know what they say?”

  “There is no mark they cannot find. There is no person they cannot kill.” She nuzzled her cheek in his back just below the scarab. “Do you believe this?”

  “What I believe is that they only conduct business in the kingdoms. Their eyes are everywhere in the seven cities. For the time being, I hope to avoid the seven. There will be no refuge there until this is all over.”

  “That could take a lifetime.”

  “No, it’s not going to take a lifetime. It’s just going to take lives. Thousands of them so long as King Rolem is behind it.”

  “Why don’t you just kill him?”

  The horse started up a ledge of rocks, jostling them hard in the saddle. Finster gripped the reins tightly. “Whoa! Whoa! Bloody beast has a mind of his own. Go around the rocks, not through them. Where were we, oh, yes, assassinate King Rolem. Well, that’s not what a sorcerer of the high order does. If we did, the kingdoms would war all of the time like they did centuries ago. No, men have to learn to resolve their own problems. We are just here to guide them.”

  “But these are bad men. You should kill them.”

  “Only in a fair fight.”

  “Pisshaw! These kings do not fight fair. If they did, they wouldn’t have sent assassins after you. I say, use your power. It’s your destiny, Finster. I can feel it.”

  Unable to hide his smile, he replied, “You are not good for my conscience. Don’t you know that magi have the most bloated egos in the realms? I have enough of a dilemma controlling the stone. Either I control it, or it controls me.”

  “How powerful do you think you are?” she practically whispered in his ear.

  “I’m not sure I want to find out.” He reached behind him and squeezed her leg. “Well, that’s a lie.”

  “I know.”

  They rode for two more days with Finster weighing all of his options. Finally, he led them to where the wilderness turned into a marsh rich in willow trees with leaves that tickled the waters. In the middle of the overgrown, rancid-smelling, uninhabitable marsh was a small lake, rich in toads on lily pads and thick with mosquitos. On the other side of the lake stood a stone tower ten stories tall that rivaled the great maple trees surrounding it. Vines, moss, and ivy covered the tower from top to bottom. It stood eerily in the mist that hid its doors, leaning slightly to the right.

  “What in the kingdoms is that place?” Rinny said.

  “It’s called the Black Tower.”

  THE SORCERER’S TRICK – PART 4

  CHAPTER 60

  The Black Tower stood defiantly against the ravages of time. Standing more than one hundred feet high, the great cylinder of stone covered in vines, moss, and floral overgrowth stood as haunting as a gargantuan tombstone. Critters and bugs crawled along the massive vines that seemed to constrict the sorcerous structure in an effort to swallow up the invader that had arrived long ago. If there were portal windows or a doorway to enter, the foliage had covered them.

  “I don’t see a door,” Rinny said. The pretty girl, with her rich-brown tan and sun-lightened blond hair, seemed tiny compared to the brute whose shoulders she sat upon. Moth, skin as pale as the moon, was a stark contrast to her. The somber savage’s muscular arms were bigger than Rinny’s waist. “Are we going inside? It looks dangerous.”

  Finster swatted at a mosquito that could fill both of his hands. Sweat had soaked his robes thanks to the muggy swamp they were trudging through. He didn’t care for the wilderness, let alone swamps and the additional natural dangers such as mudholes and crocodiles bigger than horses. He smashed the mosquito against his neck. Blood from the insect seeped between his fingers. “Nature is so disgusting.” He eyed Rinny. “As for danger, well yes, there is danger, as I mentioned before you decided to come along on this journey. That’s why I am going to let you go in first, child.”

  Rinny’s eyes grew big. “Me? Mother?”

  Dizon, Rinny’s mother, sat in the saddle behind Finster. Despite the long journey, she appeared as attractive as ever, with wavy locks of blond hair flowing over her shoulders. She had her soft hands on Finster’s waist. She beamed an easy smile at her daughter. “You must do as Finster says,” she said. “He is our lord now.”

  “But,” Rinny said, not hiding a growing frown. Seeing the serious look on her mother’s face, she started to climb out of the saddle.

  Finster felt like laughing at the simple act of obedience. He would have laughed if the scarab implanted in his back hadn’t felt as if it had bored a hole through to his chest. “Be still, child. Your mother was jesting with you.” He pushed back against the firm breasts of the woman behind him. He liked Dizon too much for his own good. She was the only thing that brought him comfort, considering there weren’t any jugs of wine present. “There are few women worth bringing the whelp along for.”

  “And there is no other man like you,” Dizon said in his ear. “But whatever you wish, I will do it. My daughter will do it.”

  “You certainly know how to stroke a man’s ego. And to think the king released you from his harem. Pshaw.” He fanned another mosquito away as he studied the height of the tower. “You could do a better job keeping these mosquitos away.” Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Moth’s spade-sized hand swipe a large fuzzy butterfly out of the air. The savage ate it. “I’m in too much pain to gag.”

  “What?” Dizon asked as she swatted at the bugs.

  “Nothing,” he replied.

  “I’m glad we are in clothing suited for travel,” she said of her long-sleeved cotton blouse and riding trousers. Her boots were made of soft leather. “But they are soaked, and my rear end is sore from riding. Are we going to dismount and go within, or is this some stranger sorcerous visit? What is this Black Tower, Finster?”

  “Refuge. Sanctuary, I hope,” Finster said. “Death… possibly. Centuries ago, before the other towers and citadels of the Magus Supremeus were built throughout the kingdom, magic was practiced in towers such as this. Wizards and workers of magic were despised then, but as time passed, alliances were made with the kingdoms, and brilliant people like me took up residence near the heart of the kingdoms to keep a closer eye on
things. They left these towers, of which there are only a few, to return to the natural world that bred them.” Where the stones weren’t covered, he could see runes of warning and protection dating from an ancient age. “For the time being, it should be as good a place to hide as any. I don’t think anyone will search us out here.”

  “Why is that?” Dizon asked.

  “Because they are forgotten. I only know about them because I learned the history of the Black Tower through the former Magus Supremeus, Zuulan the Arcane.” Finster’s eyes scoured the lower wall. The door he had used the last time he was here was covered in twenty feet of new overgrowth. “Zuulan bragged a bit. He’d state how primitive the early magic users were that came from the outlying towers like this. He believed the powers magic users controlled now were so much better. Certainly, the citadels have more brick and mortar, but that has more to do with worldly success than magic. I wanted to understand, so in my own travels, I sought the Black Tower out and the other ones, all of which have fallen. This one, as you can see, still stands. For a reason, I believe.”

  “I imagine it was grand at one time,” Dizon said. “Did you learn anything?”

  “Yes, I learned to be prepared for anything inside the Black Tower.”

  “So, it’s dangerous,” she said.

  He shrugged. “It’s been a long time since I was here. There is no telling what lies within aside from invading varmints and insects.” He held out his hands and began summoning his magic. Spreading his fingers, he used his powers over the inanimate to feel the lower walls of the tower with telekinetic fingers. Finster, the Secret Slayer, Guardian of the Mystic Forge, and Master of the Inanimate, had expanded powers now, thanks to the Founder’s Stone residing inside the scarab in his back. He used them to find a doorway. “Ah, there it is.” Sweat dripped down his temple and cheek.

  The rough vines bulged outward around the egg-shaped doorway.

  “You’re opening it,” Dizon said.

  “No, I’m not,” he replied. The horses let out wild whinnies. Hooves stomped into the soft ground. “Something else is moving the vine!”

  A reptilian head burst out of the foliage. A creature with a head bigger than a horse pushed through the snapping vines. Jaws wide, it came right at them with thousands of tiny razor-sharp teeth.

  CHAPTER 61

  The horse underneath Finster and Dizon reared up, hurling them both to the swamp’s soft ground. Finster twisted around just in time to see the lizard’s great jaws close on the spooked horse’s body. The horse bucked twice before its body went limp. The crushing jaws of the lizard clamped down, and bones cracked. With a whip of its neck, the lizard slung the horse’s carcass aside. It squeezed its body out of the wide stone doorway that led into its den. Pushing through on short, stubby, powerful legs, claws sinking in the mud, the massive, twenty-foot-long swamp lizard set its eyes on Rinny.

  Rinny screamed at the top of her lungs. The horse bucked beneath her and Moth, tossing them from the saddle. Now she was stuck, knee-deep in the muck and mire, waving her scrawny arms like battalion banners.

  The lizard came at them, head low, eyes filled with hunger, dragging its hulking belly over the ground. Moth rushed into its path. Broadsword in hand, the brawny, bare-chested savage stood his ground in the path of the beast. It was one primordial creature versus another. Moth charged. He thrust the sword up under the lizard’s jaw. The blade jutted up through the inside of the monster’s mouth. The lizard pushed overtop of Moth, crushing the brute beneath its body and burying the man in the muck.

  “Oh my!” Finster was on his hands and knees, gathering his thoughts. The violent act caught him off guard. Acting on instinct, he found the quiver of arrows and sent them sailing from his bowstring into the monster. The lizard let out a roar. Some arrows stuck in the thick hide of the beast, and others bounced from its hard flesh. “A mosquito would fare better.” Gathering his senses, he sought a more formidable weapon. His eyes swept his environs, but surrounded by nature, he was weak. The monster fastened its eyes on the girl.

  “Rinny!” Dizon sprinted for her daughter.

  “No!” Finster yelled. With no more than thirty feet between them and the lizard, he watched the monster charge after the woman. The insides of Finster’s eyes flared green. His veins pulsed with mystic fire. He stretched out his senses, finding a boulder half-buried in the earth. With his mind, he ripped the stone from the soppy ground and sent it hurling into the skull of the advancing creature. The monster’s head whipped to one side, halting its rapid advance, then sprang back to center again. This time, it locked its eyes on Finster. Black tongues licked out of its mouth. It let out a sonic roar that sent Finster sprawling backward into the willow trees. His head smacked hard into the trunk, and he sagged into the surrounding murk. Shaking his head, the rickety-limbed sorcerer slung the mud from his fingers and thumbed the grit from his eyes. “That hurt.”

  Moth emerged from a muddy grave. Sword still in hand, he flung himself into the lizard. The broad blade chopped into the core of the lizard’s body. Using both hands, Moth whacked into the scaly tissue in huge, arcing, flesh-rending slices. By the time the lizard let out a painful hiss, a hunk the size of a man had been cut out of its body. With a flip of its meaty tail, it smacked Moth, lifting the savage off his feet. The rangy seven-footer flipped head over heels before splatting shoulder first in the mud.

  Finster got to his feet and ran toward the monstrous enemy, fingers spread wide. Should I let the lizard win? The stone he’d once hurled now, by his power, hovered over the ground. Lizard wins, the rings can be mine.

  Sitting up, Moth chopped like a wild man into the lizard’s snout at a fierce pace, chipping its teeth. Dark blood sprayed from the wounds, coating Moth in gore. Nose first, the lizard plowed into Moth once more. The monster remained in place this time, smothering the man underneath its tons of girth.

  “Finster!” Dizon called out as she pulled Rinny out of the mud. “Do something!”

  “I am!” he shouted back. With a moment of hesitation, he sent the boulder sailing into the lizard’s head. The hard crack of stone against scale sent the lizard’s jaw askew. Eyes searching for its enemy, it turned out of its spot.

  Moth erupted from the mud, sucking air in huge gulps. Coated in the swampy murk, he struck out, cutting off the front foot of the monster. In a giant leap, he avoided the tail swinging at him. He landed by the back leg of the lizard. With a two-handed chop, he severed the limb from the body. Without breaking stride, he attacked the beast’s rear, cutting off its tail in three hard and heavy chops.

  The lizard squirmed. Its sonic roar boomed, but it wasn’t going anywhere. It wriggled, bled, and sank deeper into the dingy ground.

  Moth attacked with berserk fury and blood-maddened eyes. With tremendous swings, he turned the lizard into swamp food. Finally, the lizard let out one final death spasm and moved no more. The savage was coated in guts, scales, and blood.

  Finster lumbered alongside the savage. He eyed the long, powerful, mutilated length of the lizard. “A bit overzealous, aren’t we?”

  Moth snorted lungfuls of air into his expanding chest. His battle-glazed eyes regained their dull, somber look. He helped Dizon and Rinny out of the mudhole then looked past Finster to the gap in the tower.

  Rubbing his head, Finster said, “Let’s go in, shall we?”

  CHAPTER 62

  The broad-shouldered Moth, gory sword in hand, led the way inside the Black Tower. The overhanging vines had been snapped through by the lizard, opening a dark gap to the doorway. Finster followed, with Dizon trailing behind him, holding Rinny’s hand. With the aid of the daylight peeking through, they could see the dirt floor. The air was stale and musty. Once they had all crossed inside, Rinny sneezed.

  “As if we haven’t made enough commotion,” Finster said as he covered his own nose. Ahead, Moth vanished into the darkness. His big feet made no sound. “And he’s wandered off as always.” He shook his head.

  “What do we
do now?” Dizon asked, keeping her voice low as her pretty eyes darted around.

  “This isn’t my first visit. It’s not as bad as it seems.” He stretched out his senses, feeling along the walls until he came across a torch in a bracket. He rubbed his fingers together like a man preparing a campfire. A flame ignited. The soft orange glow illuminated half of the fifty-foot-wide room. He spied more torches, and one by one, he lit them all. Insects, nestled in the nooks and cracks of the corners and stone archways, scurried into the darkness. “Light sends away that which thrives in the darkness.”

  There was no sign of Moth, and Dizon said, “Our friend is gone. This architecture is not what I expected.” She ran her hand over the stones where the archway started up the wall and crossed over the ceiling. The ceiling was twenty feet high. There were six archways in all, holding up a solid grid of stonework above them. “It is fabulous.”

  “The sorcerers of the time were very practical. What they built was well thought out and built to last.” Finster put his hands to the black stone wall. Upon closer inspection, he could see that the chiseled rock was rich in bits of mineral and ore that glinted dully in the light. A gentle jolt of energy passed through his fingers the moment he touched it. He withdrew his hand. “Huh.”

  “What is it?” Dizon asked.

  “Nothing.” He took her hand. “Come. Let’s get out of the stink of mud and lizard excrement.” He eyed a stone stairwell that hugged the walls and led upward to the next floor. “That’s probably where the brute went, to eat more bugs or something worse.”

  Rinny sneezed again. It echoed loudly through the chamber.

  “Please don’t do that again. It annoys me,” Finster said.

  “I can’t help it,” Rinny replied. “My nose tickles.”

  “You’re probably having a reaction to a fatal element that could quite possibly kill you. Maybe it would be best if you waited outside so that you don’t die,” Finster said. Using his power, he lifted two torches from their brackets and let them hover in front of him as he took the stairs up. “I imagine your issue will be worse the higher we go.”