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

by Ethridge, Aaron J.

  “I think I'd like that,” she nodded. “But first I want to take care of something else. Have you got a knife?”

  “You're not...”

  “No, no,” she assured him. “You guys want me alive and I plan to stay that way until we all get killed together chasing your insane dreams.”

  “Good,” he chuckled. “In that case, I've got a knife.”

  “Alright,” she nodded. “Follow me.”

  The fair young maiden made her way to a nearby tree, from which she broke a long, slender limb. She then turned and began making her way to the edge of the little island, while striping away the leaves and twigs from the branch in her hands. She stepped a few yards into the dark lands and began drawing symbols on the ground in a circle around her.

  “I really never did oppose my... that is to say Lord and Lady Telraen,” she began. “But I did do things they didn't know about, of course. When you live amongst the undead that's an absolute necessity. For one thing even your parents...”

  Here she paused for a moment, staring at the ground before her.

  “Even people you think are your allies,” she continued, “might accidentally betray you while they're being tortured. So it's very important to have, and to keep, a few secrets of your own. Let me hold the knife please.”

  By the time she said this the circle she was drawing was complete. She stepped outside it, taking the blade from the young man as she did so. Instantly she sliced open her left hand.

  “Jeez!” Paul exclaimed.

  “It's necessary,” the maiden replied. “And it'll heal faster than I will. If I ever do...”

  The young lady made her left hand into a fist and began dribbling blood along the outer edge of her drawing. The runes in the dust began to glow as she did this, and the moment the circle was complete, a dark red light rose from the ring. Seconds later her staff materialized in its very center.

  “That will surprise them,” she smiled, reaching out to take the item. “At least, if they notice it's missing, it will. I'm sure they had it locked in the vaults, so it may be a while before they realize it's gone.”

  “Well done,” the young man nodded. “But we need to dress your hand.”

  “I guess you're right,” she admitted, glancing down at her bleeding palm. “That hurt. I mean really hurt. When I was a lich things didn't feel like that. I didn't realize how numb I'd gotten.”

  “So you're not a lich now?”

  “Not really,” she sighed. “With my phylactery burned, I've become nothing more than a normal witch, or wizardess, if you prefer that term.”

  “I'm glad,” he chuckled. “You feel more like one of the gang this way.”

  “I guess,” she half smiled. “But it comes at a price.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well,” she said. “Now I have to do all things you do: eat, sleep, age.”

  “It's too bad about the aging,” he agreed.

  “It is,” she nodded. “And I think I'm hungry. At least my stomach hurts really bad. And the last time I ate was... I don't remember. It's been days. I was definitely with you guys at the time. Of course, it could just be the situation that's put my guts in knots.”

  “Well let's try food first,” he suggested. “If that doesn't work we can play shrink and looney and have a mock therapy session.”

  “What's shrink and looney?” she asked, following just steps behind him as he headed for a nearby tree. “And how would a game help a stomachache?”

  “I'll explain if the food doesn't work,” he replied over his shoulder, before picking a piece of ripe fruit, and handing it to her.

  “Wow,” she said as soon as she swallowed the first bite. “This is delicious! Food certainly didn't taste like this days ago!”

  “Well, a few things might explain that,” the young man pointed out, as he took up the maiden's gag from the night before and starting using it to bind her hand. “First off, you're starving, which always makes food taste better. Second, that fruit is way tastier that the hard tack and dried meat we eat on the road. And, of course, you're not as dead as you were a few days ago. That might have something to do with it.”

  “Whatever the reason,” she said, before pausing to take several more bites. “It's wonderful! And I think I'm already feeling better!”

  “I'm glad to hear that,” Alena replied, sitting up from where she lie a short distance away. “Last night was a little rough.”

  “It was,” Myra nodded, before taking another few bites. “And I want to thank you.”

  “We were glad to do it,” the ogress replied, with a smile. “Besides I owed you one.”

  “Well you've more than paid me back,” the young lady pointed out.

  “Don't worry about that,” Alena chuckled. “I'm sure you'll get the chance to put me in your debt again. Sarrac and I have saved each other's lives so many times neither of us remembers who owes which one what.”

  “Untrue,” Sarrac replied, sitting up with a smile. “You owe me at least three or four now I'm sure.”

  “If you say so,” the ogress laughed. “Either way, we need to get breakfast and get back at it.”

  “Can it wait until tomorrow?” Paul suggested. “We need a day of rest.”

  “You may be right,” the ogre replied with a stretch. “But we've got a long way to go.”

  “Where are we going next?” the young man asked.

  “I've been thinking about it since last night,” Sarrac replied. “And so far you've been captured and almost burned to death using magic. We're going to have to do something to better protect you. And that being the case, I think we need to get the ward.”

  “There's no way,” Myra asserted. “People have tried for centuries.”

  “The prophecy makes it clear that only Paul can get it,” the ogre replied. “So that's hardly surprising.”

  “And he'll do it,” Nyssa added, rubbing her eyes as she fluttered nearer the pair. “And what happened to your hand?”

  “I cut it.”

  “Oh,” the fairy replied. “Well that's easily fixed.”

  As soon as she said this she pulled the bandage from the maiden's wound and waved her own tiny hands above the injury. Instantly Myra was healed.

  “Thanks!” the maiden exclaimed. “That's much better.”

  “Happy to do it.”

  “That's awesome!” Paul smiled. “Anyway, what does the prophecy say?”

  “The prophecy of The Ward,” Sarrac began, “runs thus:

  Defense he’ll need, from more than sword,

  So you must seek, behind the falls,

  There he will find, the wizard’s ward,

  By writing read, on moistened walls,

  Then summon shield, that music calls.

  A message sent, through curtain wet,

  In Maldor Vale, where river flows,

  That he shall see, as sun shall set,

  A hidden note, that pale light shows,

  Then play the tune, that he well knows.”

  “Let's see how I can do,” Darek said, still laying hidden in the grass. “I caught Maldor Vale in there, which is at least a hundred miles away.”

  “Close to that,” the ogre agreed.

  “And it's obviously behind a waterfall,” he continued. “Which probably means we're looking from a cave somewhere along the Maldor River facing roughly due-west, since the message requires the light of the setting sun.”

  “We actually already know where it is,” Sarrac explained. “And you're right on every point.”

  “And whatever is says will tell Paul exactly what music to play to get the ward.”

  “That's the interpretation we put on it.”

  “But the message is gibberish,” Myra asserted. “I've actually read it myself. There's probably not a witch or wizard in a thousand leagues that hasn't tried to figure out what it means. But it's not even really a message.”

  “What is it?” Paul asked.

  “Just a bunch of lines and circles,”
she replied.

  “Could it be a star chart or something?” he suggested.

  “No,” she chuckled. “It doesn't look anything like that. And how would a star chart tell you what song to play?”

  “It could have been a picture of the southern cross or something,” he laughed.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Never mind,” Paul replied. “Either way, I need to see it for myself. Maybe it'll mean something to me.”

  “Here's hoping,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Of course, a thought occurs,” he replied. “I don't know anything about music.”

  “Don't worry,” Sarrac assure him. “We do.”

  “Do we even have an instrument?”

  “Absolutely,” Alena replied. “I've got a flute in my pack.”

  “That'll do I guess.”

  “Well if we've got that far to go,” Darek said, climbing to his feet. “We need to eat and get moving. And we're going to need more than three horses.”

  “Do you have any suggestions on how to get more?” Alena asked.

  “Stop in Nerrass and buy a couple,” he replied. “It's not too far out the way if we're heading for Maldor Vale.”

  “Buying things requires money,” Sarrac pointed out.

  “Not a problem,” Darek smiled. “Gregory gave me a bit of a loan yesterday. He felt a little bad about the whole having crossbows pointed at me thing, and he figured we could use it. Plus, Myra made him a fortune over the course of the day.”

  “How?” the young lady asked.

  “So many people showed up for your execution that business was booming,” he replied with a smile.

  “Yeah,” she sighed. “They really wanted me dead didn't they?”

  “All in the past,” Paul said, gazing into her eyes. “Either way, Darek, you've got the money to buy a couple of horses?”

  “More than enough.”

  “Then let's get going.”

  The party quickly ate before climbing onto their mounts and striking south-west. Sarrac rode one of the beasts, Darek sat behind Alena on another, and the third carried Paul, with Myra clinging to his back. Now that the young lady was very much alive, and very clearly an ally, the young man really let himself go, enjoying every single second of her arms wrapped around his body and her warm breath on the back of his neck.

  Their first day's travel was completely uneventful and ended with them setting up camp beyond the edge of the dark lands. They even managed to make it far enough out for Sarrac to scrounge up more roots and berries to eat. The young man took solace in the fact that, even though the fare was far less exquisite than you can find in a vampire's dungeons, at least it wasn't roasted swamp roots.

  Although they had given it a rest for a few days’ time, Alena decided to renew their tradition of evening practice. In point of fact, even Sarrac and Darek joined it. Now that it seemed as if they were going to be actively pursuing conflicts with the undead, they all had to be as prepared as they possibly could be.

  “I'm pretty sure I'm dying,” Myra said, as soon as Paul sat down at her side, having completed his training for the night.

  “What makes you say that?” he asked.

  “My everything hurts,” she explained. “I used to ride for days on end, switching horses when they started stumbling beneath me. But I never felt anything like this.”

  “You'll be fine in the morning,” he chuckled. “You've just got to get used to being alive again, that's all.”

  “Oh no,” she replied shaking her head. “That's what I thought when I laid down an hour ago. But since then it's only gotten worse. I'm afraid I've ridden a horse to death... If I don't wake up tomorrow tell everyone I said goodbye.”

  “I'll be sure to tell them,” he smiled. “Either way, go ahead to sleep. That way you won't be able to feel it.”

  “That's actually a really good idea,” she replied, closing her eyes and slowly rolling over on her side. “Being alive is a lot harder than I remembered.”

  “Don't worry, you'll get used to it again.”

  The watches of the night passed one from one to the other without incident, and the party rose with the sun the following morning.

  “Well you were wrong,” Myra said with a slight moan.

  “About what?” the young man asked.

  “I don't feel better,” she explained. “In fact, I'm basically sure I'm dead. Rigor mortis has already started to set it.”

  “You're just a little stiff,” he chuckled. “You'll feel better once you start moving around.”

  “I don't believe it,” she said. “You already lied to me once.”

  “When did I lie?”

  “You said sleep would make me feel better.”

  “I didn't lie, I was just mistaken.”

  “What makes you think you're not now?”

  “Well, either way,” he replied, “you can be sure lord vampire has got undead out searching for us, and being stiff is better than being burned at the steak. So, we need to get moving.”

  “You're right,” she whimpered. “Help me up...”

  Paul reached down and took her by the hand, lifting gently as she rose. He confessed silently to himself that he was somewhat thrilled by the fact that she was so sore he had to lift her by the waist to help her mount their horse. The young man did have the decency, however, to feel slightly ashamed of the fact that he took some pleasure from her pain. On the other hand, he had a strong enough character to bear up under the emotional strain of it.

  As the party made its way ever nearer Nerrass the young lady's muscles did seem to relax somewhat, and in less than an hour she admitted that he had been in the right. As Darek rode into town alone, Paul found himself sincerely hoping his friend would only be able to find one horse for sale. The current riding arrangements were so very pleasant that he almost dreaded the thought of altering them. His hopes were dashed rather quickly, however, when their companion returned leading two noble animals behind him.

  “We need to get out of here fast,” he asserted as soon as he was in easy ear shot.

  “Why?” Alena asked, a look of concern on her face. “What's wrong?”

  “Nothing's wrong exactly,” he replied. “I mean, nothing's wronger than you'd expect it to be, anyway. Lord Telraen's put a huge reward on Paul's head and is scouring the countryside around Kafmara for us, but that's hardly surprising.”

  “Then why the sense of urgency?” Sarrac asked. “We're nowhere near Kafmara.”

  “The people,” Darek replied. “All they were talking about was that the it has come and that the undead are about to fall.”

  “Why is that a problem?” Myra asked.

  “Because,” he said excitedly, “they seem to be seriously contemplating rebellion. Apparently, right after we vanished, Kafmara broke out into a full blown riot. Everyone in the square saw you turn, Paul. The crowd went crazy and slaughtered all the undead in the city.”

  “That's wonderful news!” Alena exclaimed.

  “It would be if we were prepared,” Darek replied. “But we're not! If the people figure out where and who Paul is they're liable to crown him king or something. And that's going to get the undead legions moving again. And we seriously don't want that happening at the moment.”

  “No, we don't,” Sarrac agreed.

  “And there's already bad news,” he continued. “Last night, Lord Telraen went back into Kafmara. He had such a large force with him that there was nothing the people could do. It seems he hasn't started mass executions yet, because he's trying to keep from starting another riot, but that won't last long.”

  “So how does this effect our plans?” Paul asked.

  “In my opinion we have to avoid the living as well as the dead,” Darek replied. “You've given the people what they feel is a sign, and that's sort of a good thing. We just need not to give them too much hope at this point.”

  “I completely agree,” Sarrac nodded. “We've planted a seed, but we need to give it time t
o grow.”

  “Alright then,” Alena said. “We'll avoid civilization completely. It'll add a little time to the trip, but it shouldn't be a big problem.”

  “Right,” Darek replied. “Now let's go before someone stumbles up on us!”

  The two young men each took one of the new horses and the band immediately struck out, making their way nearer the dark lands for the time being. Paul was somewhat saddened by the lack of Myra's arms around his chest, but this was made up for, at least to a certain extent, by her obvious desire to be constantly at his side. In truth, looking at her was almost as pleasurable as having her pressed up against his back. In some ways it was even more so because, from time to time, he was able to see her smile.

  Not that had she smiled all that often since they met, but he could certainly understand why that was. It was his sincere hope that in time she would have a lot more to smile about. His heart would race every time he managed to make her laugh and he wondered how he would feel if she was ever truly happy in his presence. It was with a deep sigh of contentment that he came to the realization that, although he may not have completely saved her yet, he had made a great deal of progress toward that goal.

  The next few days were filled with a predictable pattern of moving stealthily along all day, doing their best to avoid any and all contact, and then setting up camp for a quick dinner, a little combat training, and taking a turn at watch. The band only had a few close calls, and they were able to avoid those due to the invisible scout that flew along before them.

  Shortly after lunch on their third day of constant travel, as they passed through a lovely little wood filled with sunlight pouring through the leaves above, the young man had a thought strike him.

  “You know I've been thinking,” Paul said, gazing at Myra, a wide smile on his face.

  “That's sounds ominous,” she replied with a mischievous grin. “What about?”

  “Well, first off,” he began, “I'm glad to see your mood improving.”

  “It is,” she agreed. “This trip is just so enjoyable. Who wouldn't love constantly eating roots, sleeping on the ground, and riding from sunrise to sunset every single day?”