The Tower of Daelfaun (The Tales of Zanoth Book 1)

by Ethridge, Aaron J.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “You should have. Now come on.”

  The young man rose to his feet and Alena resumed the lesson she had begun the previous evening. Once again about half-an-hour was all that Paul could take. At the conclusion of this lesson, however, he didn't feel quite so bad. His body merely asked him to go hang himself if it wasn't too much trouble. He decided instead to lay as down on the ground as he could possibly get and do his best not to move at all.

  “You're getting better,” Alena said smiling down at him.

  “Thanks,” he replied starting up into the star filled sky. “But I don't think I could have gotten worse.”

  “Well no,” she laughed. “You certainly couldn't have. Still, you really are learning quickly. In a few weeks you should at least be able to defend yourself.”

  “That's good,” he replied with a contented sigh.

  “It is,” she agreed. “I really don't want you dead, you know. I realize it's our fault you're stuck here and I really am sorry about that.”

  “You've got a funny way of showing it,” he chuckled.

  “I know,” she sighed. “It's just that this situation is very frustrating.”

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “I know all about frustration, too. It can make you act crazy.”

  “It can,” she replied, sitting down beside him. “I mean, deep down I know none of this is your fault. But on the other hand I want to beat you unconscious sometimes just for not being the it.”

  “Sure,” he nodded. “I can see that. If you weren't a woman I'd want to beat you unconscious sometimes for bringing me here. If you couldn't beat me up, that is.”

  At this she laughed. It was a warm and genuinely merry laugh. Paul could tell that at one time Alena must have been an almost stunningly attractive woman. As she leaned back in the warm firelight, a smile on her face, the young man thought to himself that she was still beautiful in her own way, muscles and all.

  “You know,” he said with smile, “if you were twenty years younger I think I'd be scared to talk to you.”

  “Oh, I don't know,” she replied, glancing over at him. “I'm stronger now than I was then.”

  “That's not what I mean,” he laughed. “I mean to say, you're very attractive and I can only imagine what you were like when you were my age.”

  “A lot younger,” she smiled.

  “Well I guessed that,” he replied, sitting up as he spoke. “So, are you married?”

  “Why do you ask?” she replied suspiciously.

  “Curiosity,” he answered putting a great deal of stress on the word. “I mean, you're kind of hot and all, but you're way too old for me and you seriously are kind of a cow sometimes.”

  “Right,” she nodded. “I agree that I'm I way too mature for you. And what's a cow, again?”

  “Never mind,” he said. “The point is that we agree that you're too old and I'm too immature.”

  “Absolutely,” she smiled. “I'm old enough to be your mother. And anyway, you're not my type. I like men that are much stronger than me.”

  “Well that sure ain't me,” he said, shaking his head. “And thanks for that mother image you just planted in my brain... Anyways, married?”

  “No,” she said, turning her gaze to the fire. “I never had time. I've spent my whole life preparing for the coming of the it.”

  “Sorry things didn't work out,” he said.

  “Not your fault,” she replied.

  “Alright,” Sarrac said, stepping out of the relative darkness. “I found some nuts, a few edible roots, and a couple handfuls of berries. It's not great, but it'll help stretch our rations until we reach Jannac.”

  “What's Jannac?” the young man asked.

  “The village we're heading for,” Alena replied. “We should reach it in about two days’ time. Then we can pick up some supplies, spend one night in relative safety, and then head out the following morning on the next leg of our journey.”

  “Sounds good,” Paul nodded.

  The group quickly ate their meager, but nourishing, meal before settling in for the night. This time Paul took first watch as he felt it would be easier not to go to sleep in the first place than to stay up after he'd been awakened in the middle of the night. Plus he wanted some time to prepare his mind for the nightmares he was sure to have about the hag, the leeches, and the swamp in general. The young man woke Alena right on time to take second watch and she seemed very pleased that she didn't have to decapitate him for falling asleep on watch a second time.

  As the first rays of the rising sun were just brushing the treetops above them, Sarrac gently awakened his companions. The young man sat up very surprised that he hadn't spent a good portion of the night screaming in his sleep. As it happened, his repose had been very pleasant. He had dreamed that the office goddess had asked him for a date, but that he had told her she needed to wear a name tag so he could remember who she was. Paul wasn't sure what that meant, but he felt it was a good sign for his psyche in any event.

  The entire day was spent in almost endless march. They only took one break and that was for their midday meal, which was nothing more than rations and water once again. Paul reflected on the fact that the bits of dried meat and hard bread, although certainly not up to gourmet standards, were almost infinitely better than baked swamp-roots.

  He was very happy that they didn't have the time for Sarrac to scourge up something horrible to eat, but at the same time fatigued almost beyond the realms of the imagination. Before coming to Zanoth he would spend fifteen minutes looking for a parking spot so he wouldn't have to walk across the lot. In the last few days he had marched on for unknown miles. If he had thought it would stop them from aching he would have gladly cut off both his feet. As it was, however, he simply had to hobble ever onward.

  When they finally stopped, Paul felt certain, that due to the non-stop exertion of the day, Alena would forgo their usual practice. She didn't. By the end of this session his body was threatening to hold its breath until he died. Fortunately for the young man, it was bluffing.

  The night passed much as the previous evening had, except for the fact that the fruit Sarrac found actually tasted good. Paul was sure it was a hallucination brought on by physical strain and that it probably really tasted like dung beetles or something. Still, he was very pleased with the sensation, whatever its cause.

  As they made their way ever nearer the village of Jannac, Paul noticed that the landscape was slowly changing. The grass became noticeably greener, and more and more trees appeared not only bearing healthy leaves, but also ripe fruit. The young man stood for a moment in silent amazement as they crested a hill and what appeared to be a small farm, complete with plowed fields and growing crops, came into view.

  “What is that?” he asked in surprise.

  “A farm,” Alena replied. “Didn't you have them on Earth?”

  “Of course,” the young man said. “I just didn't expect to see any here.”

  “Where did you think we got our food from?” she asked.

  “I figured you were scavengers,” he explained. “I mean, I've seen a lot of scavenging so far, but not much farming.”

  “We were in some of the dark lands,” Sarrac explained. “We're getting out of them now.”

  “I got ya,” Paul nodded. “But if the undead rule the whole world why isn't it all dark lands?”

  “That's a stupid question,” Alena laughed.

  “There are no stupid questions,” he retorted, “only stupid people.”

  “Alright,” she replied. “You're a stupid person, then.”

  “I think I said that wrong... Either way, the question's not stupid, it's valid. Now answer it.”

  “There are a few reasons really,” Sarrac said. “First off, the dark lands are unnatural. Zanoth isn't meant to be like that. So, it takes a good deal of magical power to drive back the natural life energy of the world and turn it into a land of death.”

  “I guess I see that,” Paul replied. “I me
an, I don't know anything about magic, but I trust you.”

  “That's good of you,” Sarrac chuckled. “Anyway, the second major reason is that the undead are parasites.”

  “You want to expound on that?” Paul asked after a few moments of silence.

  “They're like leeches,” Alena explained. “They don't produce, they consume. Without the living they couldn't exist.”

  “How do you mean?” the young man asked. “They're immortal.”

  “Yes and no,” she replied. “Take vampires for example. They're need for us is obvious. Without living blood they'll eventually die, and it's a prolonged and terrible death. They occasionally kill each other that way over matters of vengeance. Ghouls are basically in the same situation, I don't know that they can starve to death, but if the living were all gone they would start feeding off each other until only one was left, and then it would suffer insatiable hunger for the rest of its immortal life.”

  “Wow,” Paul said thoughtfully. “What about zombies?”

  “They're not really alive,” she explained. “They're like skeletons; just a bunch of animated body parts.”

  “And liches?”

  “Okay, they could definitely survive without the living,” she admitted. “However, since what they want more than anything is power, they like to keep us alive. Without people to push around power doesn't mean a whole lot.”

  “I see...” the young man mused. “And so they let you farm, build houses, have families, etc.”

  “Yeah,” she sighed. “They do.”

  “Well that's better than just murdering you all isn't it?”

  “No,” Sarrac said, staring into the distance ahead.

  “Why not?”

  “Because we're not allowed to live!” he replied, raising his voice for the first time since Paul had met him. “We're their food and entertainment! They raise us, shepherd us, then slaughter and consume us.”

  “They have to offer people encouragement to have children,” Alena almost whispered.

  “What do you mean by that?” Paul asked.

  “Who would have children in a place like this?” she asked with a dark laugh. “Would you want to bring a child into this world?”

  “Well... No, now that you mention it, I wouldn't.”

  “Neither do most of us,” she explained. “So, they offer incentives for having them.”

  “Like what?”

  “Land, gold, exemption from the harvest for certain people for certain amounts of time.”

  “The harvest?”

  “When they come to fill the larder,” she replied. “And can we stop talking about this, please? I'm sure you get the idea.”

  “I do,” he said, shaking his head. “No wonder you wanted the it.”

  “Exactly,” his companions replied in unison.

  For the better part of an hour the trio traveled along in complete silence, each wrapped in their own thoughts. As they drew near the village the dirt track they were following slowly became wider and more beaten. With each passing mile more and more buildings rose by the roadside. Most of these seemed to be nothing more than simple wooden shacks, but here and there stood a homey stone cottage. Just as the sun was beginning to set, the trio entered the village proper. Paul was immediately struck by the idea that it seemed like a ghost town.

  “Does anyone live here?” he asked.

  “Many do,” Sarrac replied with a nod.

  “Well, where are they?”

  “This close to dark?” he smiled. “Inside. Where anybody with any sense would be.”

  “We're not,” the young man pointed out.

  “Right,” Alena replied. “Think about that.”

  After this brief exchange the small band approached a rather large, and very well maintained wooden cottage. Sarrac stepped up to the door and knocked gently.

  “Who's there?” a voice from inside almost whispered.

  “Warriors of Dawn,” he replied.

  “Sarrac,” the voice said excitedly, before the door was thrown open. “Get inside quickly!”

  The trio immediately obeyed. As soon as they were inside the door was closed, bolted, and barred behind them. The entrance of the house opened into the building's main chamber. Several brass lanterns hung from the ceiling, already burning in spite of the fact that it wasn't yet night. One oddity that the young man hadn't noticed as they approached was that the room appeared to have absolutely no windows.

  In spite of that fact, however, it seemed warm and cheery somehow. The articles of furniture, and there were many, were made of a light wood similar to pine, and many of them were even cushioned. Brightly colored tapestries adorned the walls which were, along with the ceiling, paneled with the same lightly colored wood.

  “Is this him?” the man asked, his gaze locked on Paul.

  “Yes,” Sarrac nodded.

  “No,” Alena replied at the same moment.

  “No,” Paul agreed a second later.

  In reply Sarrac drew Telseir from its sheath and held its gleaming blade up with a smile.

  “He is the it,” the man said almost breathlessly.

  “No, Thaelen,” Alena asserted. “He's not. He's Paul Stevens.”

  “That is The Blade isn't it?” Thaelen asked.

  “It is,” she nodded. “But he didn't take it from her hands.”

  “He didn't?” Thaelen asked with a touch of surprise. “If he ends up dead you better take it back to her.”

  “We plan to,” she assured him.

  “Yeah,” the young man replied. “But I don't plan on dying, so I wouldn't worry too much about that.”

  “And he did take it from her hands metaphorically,” Sarrac pointed out.

  “I hope that's what the prophecy meant,” Thaelen replied.

  “As do I,” Alena said, smiling at Paul. “I just have my doubts, that's all.”

  “Well either way, you have The Blade,” Thaelen said. “And whether or not he's the it, I feel sure you're all hungry.”

  “Very,” Sarrac replied with a nod.

  “We'll have dinner soon,” Thaelen said. “And while we wait Paul can meet the children.”

  “Certainly,” Sarrac nodded, before stepping over to one of the cushioned chairs and taking a seat.

  His companions immediately followed this example. The young man was amazed at how comfortable it was to be sitting in a chair after going for days without a single stick of furniture. It felt so good in fact that he was afraid he might cry in front of his host. As it happened, however, he only had to wipe the corners of his eyes once or twice.

  In less than a minute Thaelen led his wife Anne and their ten children into the room. They were all thrilled to meet the young man and treated him very much like a famous hero. The couple's firstborn was an awestruck young man who looked to be perhaps nineteen or twenty. Their second eldest was a beautiful young woman of around seventeen, who seemed to hang on Paul's every word. All of them pelted him with questions about Earth and how he planned to set about destroying the undead forever. He did his best to satiate their curiosity while remaining very non-committal on the whole down with the undead thing.

  An hour later the entire group was seated around a vast table with a great deal of food, and cutlery, spread out before them. Paul picked up his fork and sighed with contentment. He had almost forgotten what one looked like. The meal was delicious and included unknown, but somewhat familiar, meat and vegetables. Anne had even made something remarkably like mashed potatoes. Once again the young man had to wipe the corners of his eyes.

  “He needs to change clothes,” Thaelen said, leaning back in his chair, his eyes focused on Paul.

  “I agree,” Sarrac replied. “Those are a bit conspicuous.”

  “Very,” Thaelen nodded. “Fortunately I have some things that should fit him. And there's a leather breastplate I managed to lay my hands on and hide away that he can use as well.”

  “That sounds ideal,” Alena observed.

  In mere mome
nts Paul had been led to one of the rooms, and a change of clothes placed in his hands. Minutes later he emerged from the chamber looking much more like a native of Zanoth.

  “That's an improvement,” Alena smiled. “Now you look just like any other peasant.”

  “Thanks,” the young man said with a touch of sarcasm.

  “What should we do with his old clothes?” Thaelen asked.

  “Burn them,” Sarrac said.

  “I hate to do that,” he replied, gazing at the garments. “They come from another world.”

  “Exactly,” Alena said. “How would you explain them if they were discovered?”

  “You're right of course,” Thaelen admitted. “And I'll take care of it in a moment. Before that, however, I'll see you to bed. That is, if you're ready for rest.”

  “More than ready,” Paul chuckled. “I don't think I've ever been this tired in my entire life.”

  “Alright then, follow me.”

  Thaelen led the group back to the main chamber where he climbed atop one of the sturdier chairs and pushed a section of the ceiling back revealing a hole just large enough for them to squeeze through. Sarrac climbed up, followed quickly by Alena and then Paul. As soon as he was up, the section of ceiling was once again put in its place.

  The young man was surprised to find himself in a low room that had been built between the ceiling and the roof. It contained a number of cots as well as a number of weapons and some pieces of armor. The light that filled the small chamber came through cracks that had been cut neatly between the paneling.

  “Try this on,” Sarrac said, handing the young man the leather breastplate Thaelen had offered him.

  “That's not going to be easy all stooped over like this.”

  “Sit on a cot, genius,” Alena suggested.

  “Oh, right,” he replied, immediately taking the advice.

  The armor wasn't a perfect fit, but it was close enough and a great deal better than nothing. Having tried it on, he quickly removed it again and stretched himself out on the cot. He felt almost as if he'd died and gone to heaven. The thin, threadbare mattress was roughly a thousand times softer than the ground. As he lay comfortably for the first time in days the gears in his mind began to turn.