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

by Ethridge, Aaron J.

  “So you're alive?” the young man asked.

  “No,” she replied thoughtfully. “You can't really say I'm alive, either. I mean, I don't need to eat or sleep or anything like that, I just like to from time to time. Oh, and obviously I don't age.”

  “I noticed that,” Paul nodded.

  “I'm sure you did,” Alena said, clearly not overly pleased with the conversation.

  “Well it's not exactly everyday a guy sees a hundred year old chick that looks eighteen,” he explained.

  “Thank you,” Myra said with a smile of feminine pride.

  “You're welcome,” he smiled. “But it's pretty obvious you don't look a hundred plus.”

  “I know,” she replied. “But I was actually almost twenty when I stopped aging. It's good to know I wasn't already beginning to run down.”

  “Oh you weren't,” the young man said with more enthusiasm than he meant to. “You really weren't.”

  “That's nice of you to say,” she replied, gazing at him with a wide smile. “Needless to say, the undead don't care much about things like that. They don't even seem to notice when their faces are beginning to rot off. So, it's very hard to know whether or not your hair is done right and that kind of thing. I mean, being a vampire my mother was more concerned about stuff like that than some are. And she did tell me I looked nice once or twice, but it doesn't really count when your mother says something like that.”

  “Well allow me to give you an outside opinion,” he said, gazing into her eyes. “You are by far the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.”

  “Thank you!”

  “Not at all,” he replied with a chuckle. “I know how important outside opinions can be. I mean my mother always insisted I was really handsome.”

  “Well you are,” the lich said with a bit of blush.

  “He is,” Nyssa agreed. “And you really are very pretty. Especially for an undead horror.”

  “Excuse me,” Alena interjected, shaking her head in disbelief, “I hate to break up this little complement-fest, but I feel I should remind you that in the long run we're going to have to kill Myra or vice-versa.”

  “Thank you, Alena,” Paul said shaking his head. “I knew we could count on you to keep us from accidentally enjoying ourselves in the middle of this nightmare.”

  “I'm just being practical,” she replied. “We have irreconcilable differences and one side or the other is going to end up dead in the long run. I don't see that's it's going to do any of us any good to get really close before that happens.”

  “She's right,” Myra sighed, gazing down at the remains of the fire. “I'm already wishing you didn't have to die. I mean, I know you have to because you're mortal. So, you're going to die one way or the other aren't you? I usually don't think about it though. Most of the people I know will live forever.”

  “No they won't,” Alena shook her head. “But you see my point. This isn't going to do any of us any good.”

  “I agree,” the lich replied softly. “I'm not going let them eat you, though.”

  “What?” Paul asked.

  “I mean when they kill you,” she said, refusing to lift her eyes from the ground. “I'm basically positive you've already done too much to get my father to spare you. But I am not going to let them eat your bodies. I'm going to make sure you're buried. Then I'll be able to come visit your graves sometimes and think about all this.”

  “Thank you again, Alena,” the young man said shaking his head. “You've certainly helped make this conversation more memorable.”

  “Oh it won't be that bad,” Myra replied, forcing a smile. “As a lich I can pull your soul back to Zanoth occasionally, so we can still talk once in a while if we want to.”

  “Wow,” Sarrac said shaking his head. “I don't even know what to say to that.”

  “Well I won't if you don't want me to,” the lich replied, a slightly injured tone in her voice. “I just thought you might enjoy it, that's all.”

  “I appreciate the thought,” Paul smiled.

  “Actually, I do too,” Alena said, rubbing her hand on her forehead. “And I guess, for my part, I'll see that you get a proper burial if Paul does end up killing you.”

  “Honestly?” the lich said. “That's really sweet, Alena! You know, you're very pretty too.”

  “Could we just go?” the ogress said, rising to her feet.

  “I think we should,” Sarrac replied.

  “I agree,” Paul nodded. “And if you don't mind I'm gonna snag the horse for a while.”

  “By all means,” Alena replied, snatching her pack up from the ground. “I rode it more than my fair share yesterday.”

  “And I was thinking,” the young man said turning to the fair lich, “that you might want to ride behind me.”

  “Aren't you afraid I'll knock you from the saddle and make a run for it?” she asked with a coy smile.

  “I'll take my chances,” he chuckled. “After all you could have been long gone last night if you'd wanted.”

  “That's true,” she nodded.

  “Too true,” Alena said, stepping past the pair and beginning to march in the direction of the distant mountain.

  The young man hadn't been on a horse in years, but it was a bit like riding a bicycle and the animal was well trained and relatively docile. Paul felt that in order to show Myra the error of her ways he was going to have to spend a good deal of time talking with her. And he wanted to be able to do that with as little interruption from Alena as possible. Sitting front to back on a horse they could hear each other even if they were almost whispering and he could move the beast before or behind the party as the mood struck him. All things considered riding the horse was the closest thing to privacy they were likely to get.

  As soon as he was in the saddle he helped the lich up behind him. Surprisingly, her touch was soft and warm. The young man felt his pulse quicken as she wrapped her arms around his chest and scooted up to his back. Paul took a deep breath; it was imperative that he keep his goal in mind. He wasn't out on a date with this monster, he was trying to save her soul, and hopefully her life.

  For an hour they rode along discussing lighter subjects such as favorite foods and ancient legends of Earth and Zanoth before something in sky attracted the young man's attention. Three very large birds were soaring on the wind above and seemed to be slowly circling the band.

  “What are those?” Paul asked, shielding his eyes from the pale sun as he gazed up at the creatures.

  “Falauk,” Myra replied softly, before turning her attention to the front of the column and raising her voice. “You've been spotted.”

  Alena turned around to see the lich pointing toward the sky.

  “Wonderful!” she said, glancing up at the beasts. “Did you bring them here?”

  “Of course not!” Myra replied. “I keep telling you: I want to see you do this whole shrine thing. And that's not going to happen if you guys are dead.”

  “What are falauk?” the young man asked.

  “Undead birds,” Sarrac said. “They're spies. You can be sure lord Telraen will soon know where we are.”

  “And then he'll send for you,” Myra added.

  “Can you stop them,” the young man asked, gazing back at the lich over his shoulder.

  “No,” she said shaking her head. “Well, that is to say yes. But I don't dare. When father catches you I'm going to have to make up some excuse to explain why I couldn't escape. I can't let him think I helped you. He can be very unpleasant sometimes.”

  “I understand,” the young man nodded before turning to his companions. “Should we turn back?”

  “That wouldn't help,” Sarrac replied shaking his head. “The wisest course of action is going to be to purify the shine and then try to fight our way out.”

  “You'll never make it,” Myra asserted, “but I agree it's the best course of action. There's no point in running away now.”

  In response Alena silently turned back toward the mountain and quicke
ned her pace. The rest of the band instantly followed her example. They had no choice but to attempt to reach their destination before their enemies reached them. After a few minutes of silent riding Myra spoke.

  “What are they like?” she asked softly, her mouth almost touching the young man's ear.

  “Who?”

  “The children you're hoping to save by killing me.”

  “Well, I'm beginning to have serious doubts about that whole thing. I mean, like Sarrac says: the prophecies are hard to understand sometimes. I'm not even sure you're the daughter of darkness.”

  “I'm glad,” she replied. “But that doesn't really answer my question.”

  “They're a very happy and handsome family. And they seem to be very close and loving. Which is hardly surprising, I guess, since there are ten of them.”

  “Ten!” she exclaimed, before pausing thoughtfully for a moment. “I think I know who you mean! They're that family on Lord Casslan's lands aren't they? The ones that have that big house in Jannac?”

  “I'd rather not say,” Paul said, shaking his head.

  “Why not?” she asked. “What difference does it make?”

  “Let's just say I don't want to bring any undue attention to them.”

  “Meaning what?” she said, a defensive tone in her voice.

  “I just don't want them harvested,” he pointed out.

  “Well I don't decide who gets harvested on Lord Casslan estate!”

  “But you do decide when other people get taken,” the young man asserted, expressing more anger than he intended. “And that being the case I'd rather just let them remain anonymous.”

  “That's a hurtful thing to say,” she said, glaring at the back of his head.

  “Not as hurtful as stealing someone's children and feeding them to a monster.”

  “My parents are not monsters,” she replied with some heat.

  “Anyone that feeds on the living is a monster!”

  “You really do think I'm evil don't you?!?!” she said in a very accusing tone. “You're just like Alena! There's only one side, your side, and that's the right side!”

  “In point of fact there is only one right side here,” he snapped.

  “Let me down,” she said. “I'm done talking to you. I can't believe I actually... You know what, never mind, just let me down.”

  “No,” he replied firmly. “Whether or not you want to talk to me I still want to talk to you.”

  In response she simply sat in silence.

  “Here's the thing, Myra,” he said after a few moment's delay. “I'm trying to help you.”

  “You're a liar,” she replied. “You're just trying to hurt me. And I have to admit that you almost did.”

  “No,” he said again. “I'm not a liar. But either way, you've accused me of only seeing one side. Okay then, explain your side.”

  “All mortals die, Paul,” she began. “All of them! Some get sick, some die of old age, some get killed in avalanches, but however it happens, they all die.”

  “True so far,” he admitted. “But I don't see your point.”

  “Well,” she continued, “many undead have to feed on the living in order to survive. They can live forever, but the mortals can't. And it's much better that people die in a meaningful way. When a vampire feeds on someone their life is put to use, it's not just thrown away. Do you really believe it's better for people to die of old age than to lay down their life to help others live?”

  “Much better!” he exclaimed.

  “How can you say that?” she asked, clearly stunned by his answer. “You honestly believe that it's better to waste life than to use it?”

  “But it's not yours to use,” he pointed out.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean...” he began, before stopping to think for a moment. “Okay, let me see if I can explain this. Let's start at the beginning: who's your favorite person?”

  “My mother, I guess,” she replied. “Questions like that are always hard to answer, you know.”

  “Right,” Paul nodded. “Well let's say your mother could save your father's life by laying down her own. Do you feel she should be forced to make that sacrifice?”

  “No,” she replied. “Of course not! But it's completely different when you're talking about the living. My mother will live forever if nature's allowed to take its course. The living are just going to die either way.”

  “Wow,” the young man said wiping his face. “Let's try again. Do you have a favorite living person?”

  “Hmmm,” she said thoughtfully, a slight blush gracing her cheek. “I think I do, yes.”

  “Alright,” he nodded. “And who is that?”

  “Well...” she replied, gazing into the distance ahead and biting her lower lip. “You... I guess...”

  “Me?” he chuckled. “You hardly even know me.”

  “I know,” she said, turning so he couldn't see her face. “But I'd never spoken to a living person until you guys kidnapped me.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course!” she laughed. “My parents didn't believe in chatting with their...”

  Here she paused, her voice dying away.

  “Their what?”

  “It doesn't matter,” she replied. “The point is that I'd never spoken to a mortal. And I have to admit you're not like I thought you would be.”

  “How so?”

  “A lot of little ways,” she replied. “For one thing you're way more open minded than I believed the living could be. I mean, you're wrong about a lot and you have a lot of crazy prejudices, but at least you're willing to discuss different points of view.”

  “Either way,” he said with a smile. “I'm currently your favorite mortal?”

  “Yes,” she replied, bumping her shoulder into his. “But what's your point?”

  “Well,” Paul smiled, “before we get into that, I want to let you know that you're my favorite undead.”

  “Do you know any others?” she asked.

  “No,” he admitted, “but even if I knew them all I'm sure you'd be my favorite.”

  “Liar,” she said, nudging him with her shoulder again.

  “I assure you I'm not,” he smiled. “But be that as it may, my real point is this: how would you feel if I were being harvested?”

  “Well,” she said, suddenly becoming very serious. “The law is the law and we all have to...”

  “That's not what I'm asking,” he pointed out. “I'm not asking you what you'd do or if you'd accept it. I'm asking you how you'd feel.”

  “I don't know,” she replied.

  “Well try to imagine,” he said. “I mean, after all, your father's forces are probably out searching for us by now, right?”

  “Probably,” she replied.

  “Well then, you may need to consider it,” he pointed out. “In the next couple of days you might get to see me handed over to your father. How is that going to make you feel?”

  “I told you,” she snapped. “I don't know!”

  “Just try to picture it in your mind's eye,” he continued. “There we are sitting and talking by the fire and some ghasts show up to take me away. They grab me and start dragging me off, I'm struggling and break free just long enough to run over to you and tell you that I'm glad we met and that I'm sorry it has to end this way. Then they pull me into the night and you never see...”

  “That's enough!” she interrupted. “I don't know why you're doing this, but it's very hateful, Paul! In fact, I'd almost call it evil!”

  “I don't mean it like that,” he replied. “I'm just trying to show you the other side.”

  “Well I don't want to think about it!”

  “You may have to soon,” he asserted.

  “What difference does it make?” she asked, raising her voice. “I can't stop it! If my father decides to kill you then you'll die! There is nothing I'll be able to do to stop him! Is it going to make you feel better to know that it hurt me to watch you die?!?!”

 
“Yes,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Knowing that would make me feel almost unimaginably better.”

  “Feel better then!” she snapped. “But can we please stop talking about this and just try to enjoy the rest of this short, pointless journey?”

  “Absolutely,” he nodded.

  For the moment Paul thought it best to say no more. Their conversation had clearly given her a glimpse of the other side. He couldn't be sure how she would react, but at least it was a start.

  Chapter 7: Up The Airy Mountain

  “Horrible,” Myra said suddenly, turning her eyes to Paul.

  For the last few hours the pair had strode along, side by side in silence, as Alena and then Sarrac made use of the horse. The undead were almost certainly already pursuing the band and they had to throw all their energy into reaching the shrine as quickly as possible. They had made a great deal of progress and the ruins that sat at the foot of the mountain were already quite visible. They would reach them before the sun set and make camp there.

  “What?” he asked, a gentle smile on his face.

  “That's how I'd feel,” she scowled. “Actually, that's not true! Horrible is how I already feel! I wish you hadn't brought all that up!”

  “Actually you brought it up,” the young man pointed out.

  “How did I bring it up?”

  “You asked about those children,” he said softly.

  “That has nothing to do with this,” she almost barked. “That situation is completely different.”

  “How?”

  “Because!” she snapped before pausing a moment to think. “Those children are part of the system! They enjoy Lord Casslan's protection, and their father and mother have benefited greatly from his patronage. They share a symbiotic relationship, each one benefits from the other. It's their duty to let their deaths prolong their lord's life!”

  “I don't expect that will make their mother feel any better.”

  “Shut up!” she exclaimed, glaring at him. “You're just twisting the way things are! Their mother knew her children might be harvested before she ever had them. She had them because she wanted them. Well, she got what she wanted. When the time comes Lord Casslan will merely take what he needs.”

  “Well then,” he nodded, “when the time comes your father will merely take what he needs from me. After all, I'm nothing more than a criminal. I should die for my crimes and it'd be a waste to just throw my life away.”