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

by Ethridge, Aaron J.

  “Alright,” Paul sighed, shaking his head. “Let's get some sleep then. I'll see you in the morning.”

  “Almost certainly. Sweet dreams!”

  Perhaps three hours later the prisoners were awakened by the sound of someone turning the door's rather rusty lock.

  “It's way too early for our breakfast,” Darek chuckled. “So I guess it's time for someone else's midnight snack. Well, it honestly was nice meeting you, Paul.”

  “Same here,” the young man nodded, leaping up to the table and grabbing a knife.

  “There's no point,” his companion pointed out.

  “I know,” the young man agreed, stepping up to the cell's entrance and pushing himself against the wall.

  Moments later the door opened and a hooded figure marched into the room. Instantly Paul grabbed them around the neck from behind and held the knife to their throat.

  “If you make a sound I'll cut your throat,” he whispered.

  “Would you let me go, Paul,” Myra replied in hushed tones.

  “What?” he said, lowering the knife and spinning her around, before snatching back the hood.

  There, in the dim light of the chamber stood the beautiful lich.

  “Have you been crying?” he asked.

  “Oh course not,” she replied, her voice somewhat thick. “Undead don't cry, Paul. Undead don't feel.”

  “Ah...” he said slowly. “Well I only asked because your eyes seem a little red and kind of swollen.”

  “Never mind!” she snapped. “You've to get out of here.”

  “What about...” he began.

  “They're safe,” she nodded. “You killed about half the ghasts right before the stone hit you. We were able to slaughter the rest. I even managed to summon and slay the falauk, so my father doesn't know exactly what happened. However, he does know that you're his prisoner, even though he has no idea who you are. And you have to be long gone before the mood strikes him to interrogate you.”

  “How did you get here so fast?” the young man asked. “It took them more than a day to catch up to us and I can't have been here for ten hours.”

  “I used magic,” she replied almost dismissively. “I can teleport myself back here using my staff. Either way, that doesn't matter at the moment. The only thing that matters is getting you out of here alive. And I have your stuff with me.”

  Having said this she drew Telseir from beneath her cloak and handed it to him, before pulling the holy symbol from a pouch at her side and dropping it in his hands.

  “I also brought you a pack of food and a few torches,” she said, a sad smile on her face. “You'll have to make your escape through the sewers. It won't exactly be safe, but it's the best I can do.”

  “I'm taking him with me,” Paul said nodding at his fellow prisoner.

  “Of course,” she replied. “My father's not even going to notice he's gone once he realizes you're missing.”

  “What's going to happen to you?”

  “Nothing,” she assured him. “There'll be a lot of yelling, and I'll have to do a lot of lying, which I hate, but then he'll focus his attention on catching you again.”

  “Well that's good,” the young man smiled. “I mean, that you'll be safe. Not that he'll be hunting for me.”

  “Right,” she agreed. “And whatever happens he can't catch you, Paul. And that means you're going to have to be very careful. And you can't turn again unless your life depends on it.”

  “Why not?”

  “That symbol is glowing with power. If my father knew you had it he could use magic to find out exactly where you were. When you turn that power is exponentially increased. It's only a matter of time before they figure out that someone managed to turn in the dark lands. For the moment they don't know to be searching for a holy symbol, but once they figure that out they'll be coming for you. And before that happens you've got to get back to Earth.”

  “I don't know if I can,” he explained. “And even if I were able I wouldn't.”

  “Why not?” the lich asked.

  “Zanoth needs help, Myra,” he replied. “And I'm actually beginning to believe I may be able to help it. I couldn't just abandon our friends. Not now.”

  “I understand your feelings,” she said. “But you're chasing a dream, Paul. What you're trying to do can't be done.”

  “Well that doesn't mean I can stop trying.”

  “We don't have time for this,” she said, turning her gaze to Darek. “You. If you want to live follow us.”

  The trio stepped from the chamber moments later, Darek taking the time to grab up a number of knives and what was left of the bottle of wine. Myra led them through a number of winding passages, which seemed to be filled with undead guards who were all facing the wall for some reason, before coming to a stop at a large iron grate. She used a key on the ring she carried to open the lock and thereby the passage.

  “Always head down,” she explained. “There are several exits, but you reach all of them by going downhill. I couldn't be sure exactly where you'd come out, but the rest of our friends are heading this way and Nyssa will be able to find you by searching for the symbol. Of course, it's going to take them at least a day to reach you, so you have to be very careful.”

  “Come with us,” Paul said, gazing into her eyes.

  “I can't,” she replied, turning her own gaze to the floor. “I have to do what I can from within the system and you have to find a way back to Earth, Paul. You can't stay on Zanoth. If you do you'll just end up dead.”

  “Will I ever see you again?” he asked.

  “No,” she replied, looking up at him, tears in her eyes. “No, you won't.”

  “Well, I'm glad we met either way,” he replied. “And I want to give you something before I go.”

  Having said this he slipped his arm around her waist, cradling her head in his other hand, and kissed her gently on the lips. As he pulled away the lich gazed at him, a look of mild confusion on her face.

  “Are you sure you won't come with me?”

  “I just can't,” she replied, her voice filled with emotion.

  “Well you've been wrong about a lot of things up to this point,” he said, stepping into the sewer just behind Darek. “And I sincerely hope you're wrong about this never see each other again thing.”

  “So do I,” she whispered, locking the grate behind the two companions as they quickly made their escape.

  Chapter 9: Taking the Veil

  “I thought it best not to say anything back there,” Darek said, glancing over his shoulder, a torch held above his head. “And I mean, anything at all.”

  “I did notice you were a little subdued,” Paul agreed.

  “Right,” his companion nodded. “But, either way, do you know who that was?”

  “You mean Myra?”

  “Yes,” he nodded. “That was Myra, alright. Myra Kel Marran.”

  “I know.”

  “Well she happens to be Lord Telraen's adopted daughter.”

  “That's right.”

  “And she's a lich.”

  “True.”

  “Alright,” Darek said, stopping and turning to face his companion. “So you just kissed, maybe open-mouth kissed, I couldn't really see from where I was standing...”

  “A little,” Paul interjected.

  “Okay. So, just open-mouth kissed an undead.”

  “I supposed I did,” the young man agreed.

  “Well I mean...” his companion said slowly.

  “Yes?”

  “What was it like?”

  “Pretty awesome actually,” Paul smiled. “I mean, she's obviously a ten.”

  “Oh, an easy ten,” Darek agreed. “But she's also dead.”

  “No she's not actually,” the young man replied.

  “What do you mean?”

  Seeing the validity of the question the young man took a moment to enlighten his companion as to Myra's true nature, her personality, and her rather unique moral code. He also explained
how he was from Earth and that he did, in fact, seem to be the it.

  “I don't believe it,” Darek replied the moment Paul finished speaking. “I mean, I don't know you well enough to believe a load like that.”

  “Well it's true just the same.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Why do you think she helped us escape?”

  “Actually,” Darek said thoughtfully, “I'm pretty sure they're just toying with us. This is all probably part of some new undead entertainment. They just want to see how long we can last down here or something.”

  “Well you're wrong,” the young man asserted.

  “We can talk more about that after we're out of here alive,” Darek replied, turning to resume their march through the sewer.

  “That shouldn't be too difficult now,” Paul replied, following just steps behind his companion, a tone of optimism in his voice. “The hard part was getting out of that cell.”

  “I agree that getting out was the hardest part. But that's not to say it was the only hard part.”

  “Meaning what exactly?”

  “The sewers are where they banish ghouls and ghasts who have angered the lord or lady,” Darek explained. “The ones that live long enough are eventually forgiven, but they suffer the agony of hunger while they're down here.”

  “So there could be a bunch of starving ghouls around?”

  “No,” his companion replied shaking his head. “That's highly unlikely. It's much more probable that there are one or two really powerful ghasts instead. After all, they'll eat each other if they're hungry enough.”

  “I had heard that,” the young man nodded. “And if you're right, I might should take the lead.”

  “Be my guest,” Darek replied.

  Paul drew Telseir from its scabbard and took up a position in front of his companion. The pair moved as quickly as they could through the dank, dark passages leading ever downward. In just minutes they had made their way into a wide intersection from which several branches sprang. As they stood carefully considering which one seemed to offer them the steepest grade down a sound echoed through the chamber.

  “I think I smell something! Indeed I do!” an excited voice, which seemed to be coming from the passage they just left, cried. “It seems to be living, let's see if it's true!”

  Immediately after wild cackling filled the air.

  “I have to be frank,” Darek said. “I don't like the sound of that.”

  “No,” Paul agreed. “But I think I can kill a single ghast.”

  “Maybe. But I'd rather not put it to the test if we can help it.”

  “Agreed,” the young man nodded. “Left it is!”

  Having no more time for consideration the pair quickly began marching down their randomly selected passage. Fortunately, it very clearly led down, and therefore, at least in theory, out.

  “It seems to me that there are two,” the voice yelled behind them. “Which gives us so much more to chew!”

  In response the young men quickened their pace, Paul taking up a position in the rear, in case their foe should manage to run them down.

  “Perhaps now time has healed the rift,” the voice cackled. “And master offers us a gift!”

  “I wish it wasn't speaking in rhyme,” Darek pointed out. “It's bad enough to be eaten alive by some undead horror without it being completely bonkers as well.”

  “I don't know that it makes that much difference,” Paul observed.

  “I guess you're right,” his companion conceded, “but I find lunacy a little creepy. Especially loud, obnoxious lunacy.”

  “I can't argue with you there.”

  Moments later the pair was standing in another chamber of possible passages. They did their very best to quickly select the one most obviously heading down.

  “If they don't hurry in their flight,” the voice called out, obviously drawing nearer. “Then soon I'll get to take a bite!”

  “You best look elsewhere for your bread,” Darek yelled behind them. “Or sure enough you'll end up dead!”

  “It seems our meal, it has a wit,” the voice laughed. “I guess we'll have to chat with it!”

  “No thanks!” Paul cried as the pair plunged down another passage.

  For the next few minutes they moved along in complete silence as quickly as they could. Even the voice behind them had died away and Paul felt some slight hope that it might have decided they were too bold to be quite safe. This hope died, however, as they stepped out into another chamber. There a short distance from them, and staring at the very passage from which they emerged was a hideous ghast.

  It immediately struck the young man that this abomination made the ghasts he had seen earlier seem relatively good looking. It was completely emaciated with the exception of it large, swollen, bulbous stomach. The monster's eyes seemed to burn with yellow fire and its lips were raw and bleeding, probably due to constant licking. A stench also emanated from the creature that was impossible to describe, and nearly impossible to bear.

  Around its waist hung a threadbare and filthy lion cloth that left its bony hips clearly exposed. In its hand it held a longsword, the blade of which had been broken to half its normal length. As soon as they entered it spoke.

  “Try as they might they always see,” it smiled. “There is no hope to flee from me.”

  “Really?” Paul said, raising his sword.

  “You did well, no need to pout, the truth is you were almost out.”

  “Oh...” Darek moaned. “Oh, boy...”

  “You alright?” the young man asked, glancing over his shoulder.

  “I just wish I hadn't eaten so much for dinner,” his companion explained, a cold sweat covering his brow. “That smell is just making me...”

  Darek didn't get to finish his thought, as he was interrupted by severe vomiting.

  “Both your lives I have to smother,” the creature said, raising its broken blade. “First kill one, and then the other.”

  Paul had already faced enough undead not to be afraid of a single ghast armed with nothing more than half a sword. He boldly strode out into the ankle-deep water to attack the hideous monstrosity. His first blow was deftly blocked, however, as was his second. The horror then counterattacked the young man with a force that shocked and surprised him.

  “Fighting, fighting long ago,” it said, its eyes staring off into nothingness as it lashed wildly out. “As seeds of death we sought to sew. They fought with skill, they fought with power, they fought until the final hour.”

  Again the young man renewed his attacks and once again they were blocked with ease.

  “Struggling, struggling as you do,” the beast continued. “Never knowing what is true. Though you resist to final breath, there is no overcoming death.”

  “If you really can, then turn him!” Darek cried between retches.

  “No!” Paul yelled. “We can't risk it! And I'm sure I can beat him!”

  As soon as the young man said this the creature passed its blade to its left hand, blocked another blow, and then grabbed Paul by the throat with its right hand, lifting him from the floor.

  “Hours, hours, flowing past, the ticking clock it moves so fast,” the monster said, tightening its grip as it spoke. “Sunrise, sunset how they fly, until at last it's time to die.”

  As it finished speaking a steak knife ripped into the creature's skull causing it to drop the young man and take a step back. This was all the opening Paul needed. Instantly he lashed out at the undead horror, severing its head from its body in a single blow.

  “Well that was impressive,” Darek observed, before washing his mouth out with a little wine.

  “Right back at you,” Paul replied. “How did you learn to throw like that?”

  “Years of practice.”

  “Makes sense,” the young man nodded. “Let's get out of here!”

  “Absolutely!”

  The two young men quickly selected another downward passage and plunged into it. Just minutes later the
y were standing in the relatively fresh air, below a sky filled with stars. After a brief discussion they decided to strike south. This decision was mainly based on the fact that the Tower of Daelfaun, which was where they had been held prisoner, was north of where Paul had last been with his companions.

  They fled into the night in the very slim hope that they wouldn't be recaptured or killed by wandering undead before their friends could reach them. They decided to forgo the torch and walk by starlight in order to avoid attracting any unnecessary attention. This proved to be simplicity itself considering how bleak and empty the landscape was through which they passed.

  Although they managed to travel many miles before the sun rose the tower was still clearly visible in the early dawn.

  “This is crazy,” Darek said. “It's amazing they haven't caught us already. We've got to get to cover. We can't just wander around in the open.”

  “Do you have any suggestions?” Paul asked.

  “Maybe,” his companion replied.

  “Well?”

  “It strikes me that we should have followed the water.”

  “How so?”

  “Water follows the low ground,” Darek pointed out. “Low ground means valleys and ravines. And that means cover. If nothing else, at least undead wouldn't be able to spot us just by looking out a window.”

  “I think we're a little far off for that,” the young man chuckled. “But I admit I see your point. If we spot a falauk there's not even anything to hide under.”

  “That's what I'm saying.”

  “So what do we do about it?”

  “The little stream coming from the sewers seemed to be going south-west,” Darek pointed out, “I say we strike west in the hopes of finding some cover.”

  “I don't know,” Paul replied. “My friends are bound to be south-east of here.”

  “I guess if we headed south-east they would be able to find our bodies quicker.”

  “That's a good point,” Paul conceded. “West it is.”

  The two young men changed their course, accepting the fact that they might be putting more distance between them and their allies, but in the hopes of putting less distance between themselves and some form of cover. Three hours later their gamble was rewarded. They found themselves on the banks of a shallow, sluggish stream.