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

by Ethridge, Aaron J.

  “It's a leather bracer,” he said, once again stating the blinding obvious.

  “What were you expecting?” Sarrac asked.

  “I don't know,” he said with a shrug. “The prophecy gave me the idea it was a shield.”

  “It's a metaphorical shield,” Alena pointed out.

  “Man. Y'all's prophets seriously believed in metaphors.”

  “Yes, they did,” Darek agreed. “Now put it on.”

  Paul slipped the bracer on his sword arm and flexed his muscles.

  “So now I'm magic proof, eh?” he asked.

  “It would be more accurate,” Sarrac replied, “to say that you're now resistant to harmful magic.”

  “Let's try it out!” he exclaimed, before stepping briskly from the cavern.

  Moments later they were standing outside the cave, Nyssa hovering just feet away from the young man.

  “I don't know, Paul,” the fairy said, shaking her tiny head. “This seems like a bad idea.”

  “Why?” he asked. “I mean, we need to test it. We have to know what it can do.”

  “I actually kind of agree,” Alena nodded. “Much better to find out what it's capable of before we're facing someone trying to kill us.”

  “Alright,” the fairy sighed. “If you're sure.”

  “We're sure,” Paul replied with a wide smile.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Engulf me in fire!” he exclaimed.

  “I don't know, Paul,” Myra said this time. “That does seem like a bad idea.”

  “Nonsense,” he chuckled. “This thing is an artifact, just look at what Telseir can do! Come on Nyssa! Hit me with it!”

  “If you're absolutely sure,” she replied.

  “I am! Now hit me!”

  Without further delay the tiny fairy threw her hands out, completely covering the young man in a blazing inferno.

  “Wow!” he exclaimed. “This is incredible! I, mean... Ahhh!!! Stop!!!”

  As his tone shifted from amazement to agony he dove into the nearby river.

  “Well” he said with a frustrated tone as he climbed from the water. “That didn't seem to work very well. You caught my hair, not to mention my face, on fire.”

  “I actually only singed your hair,” she said. “And your face is barely burned at all.”

  “Well the point is that it didn't work,” he asserted, as the fairy fluttered up to him inspecting the damage she'd done.

  “Of course it did!” Nyssa replied. “It worked wonderfully! Normally that would have killed you! I threw everything I had into it. In fact, I may not be able to cast any more spells for a day or two. I think I pulled something.”

  “So you were trying to kill me?” the young man asked staring at her in disbelief.

  “Of course not,” she chucked. “I was testing it for you just like you asked me to. And actually, doing it that hard really hurt. I hope you appreciate it.”

  “Oh I do,” he smiled. “And I guess that means it really does work.”

  “Absolutely!” the tiny fairy assured him. “It works great!”

  Minutes later the entire party was gathered around a small camp fire, before which Paul was drying his clothes.

  “Alright,” he said, “We've got The Blade, we've cleansed The Shrine, we've taken The Veil, and we have The Ward. What's next?”

  “What I want to know is,” Darek began, “when do we strike a blow for the living? I mean, you guys have unquestionably done a great job getting Paul more and more prepared, but preparations can't go on forever. Eventually we're going to have to come up with a plan to help the people. I realize I was the one saying we need to wait just days ago, but I've had time to think about it and we've got to start somewhere sometime. I just don't have any ideas on where or when yet.”

  “Well we do,” Sarrac assured him. “But before we can get started we need to retrieve The Arms.”

  “And what are The Arms?” Paul asked.

  “We believe it's a trove of magical weapons and armor,” Alena replied.

  “And we certainly could use that!” Darek agreed. “At the moment only Telseir can do any damage to the more powerful undead. Well, along with Nyssa and Myra's magic, of course. Still, three of us are basically unarmed when it comes to fighting vampires, wraiths, liches, etc.”

  “And that's why we need to acquire The Arms before we make a real move against the undead,” Sarrac pointed out.

  “Makes sense,” Paul nodded. “So lay the prophecy on us.”

  “The prophecy of The Arms,” Sarrac began, after clearing his throat, “says:

  When time shall come, to take his stand,

  To raise his fist, and strike a blow,

  And fuel the flames, that he has fanned,

  ‘Til they engulf, the ancient foe,

  Then take up arms, to lay them low.

  In ancient hall, in empty room,

  Where bold men fell, and dead did reek,

  And noble king, once dug his tomb,

  To hide his bones, in mountain peak,

  On Calcast height, the son must seek.

  Beware of those who fear the loom,

  And seek to cut the thread of fate,

  Who hope by this to stay their doom,

  For such a chance, they watch and wait,

  Lost souls of night, and evil great.”

  “Alright,” Paul replied. “Even I can follow Calcast height, which has got to be the name of a mountain.”

  “It is,” Sarrac nodded. “And we should be able to reach its base in four or five days.”

  “And we're supposed to search a tomb?” he asked.

  “We wouldn't be the first,” Myra pointed out. “Hordes have scoured the tomb of King Paffek. It was looted centuries ago, before the war had even ended.”

  “It was,” the ogre admitted. “However, that may be why the prophecy mentions the empty room. It may be that there's a secret door somewhere or something.”

  “It's not that,” the maiden replied, shaking her head. “It's been searched far too well for something as simple as that not to have been discovered. And countless wizards and witches have combed the place using magic hoping to find anything. They never have.”

  “Paul will,” Alena assured her.

  “Of that I'm quite certain,” Myra smiled. “I mean, he just managed to get The Ward. He's the it, and that means he'll find The Arms, wherever they are.”

  “I don't know,” Darek replied, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “I don't like that whole beware bit. Or the lost souls part, come to that. Do the prophecies make it plain that Paul succeeds and survives?”

  “Well... yes...” Sarrac said slowly.

  “I'm not sure I like the way you said that,” Paul replied. “Is it just me, or was there a little hesitation there?”

  “It's just the whole metaphorical angle,” Alena said. “If you see what I mean.”

  “Let's pretend I don't,” the young man replied.

  “Alright,” Sarrac smiled. “Well, up to this point the prophecies have been about the it as an individual. You, Paul, had to be summoned, take the blade, cleanse the shrine, be given the veil, and find the song to recover the ward.”

  “So far I'm with you,” Paul nodded.

  “But after that things get a little fuzzier,” the ogre replied.

  “Some of them do anyway,” Alena said reassuringly.

  “Eh... Most of them,” Sarrac corrected. “From this point on, the references to Paul could be considered metaphorical. For instance, dying as a martyr would almost certainly fan the flames of rebellion, which would be a success. And, of course, he would live forever in our hearts and memories.”

  “So I may die?” the young man asked.

  “Everybody dies,” the ogre replied.

  “Ah yes, of course,” Paul nodded. “However, that wasn't really my point. So, allow me to rephrase the question: you guys may get me killed?”

  “Yes,” Alena replied, as if stating a simple fact. />
  “Does that change anything?” Myra asked.

  “Nothing,” the young man chuckled. “I just wanted to know the score.”

  “That's the score,” Alena replied. “We know you're supposed to search the tomb. We don't know that any of us survive.”

  “I wonder just how set fate is,” Paul mussed, gazing at the sea of stars above.

  “Who knows?” the ogre replied. “People have argued about that from the beginning of time and I suppose they'll keep it up until the end.”

  “What's your take?” Darek asked, gazing at him.

  “My take?” Sarrac smiled. “I'm certain the prophecies will be fulfilled and whatever was meant to happen will. At least on the grand scale.”

  “That's a cozy little philosophy to have,” Darek chuckled. “At least, it is if you can force yourself to believe it. No matter what you do, you were meant to. No matter what happens, it was supposed to.”

  “That's not what I said,” the ogre corrected. “And I don't believe anything like that. The prophecies are messages given to mortals to tell us what the gods have decided. They're meant to offer us hope and guidance as a people, not as individuals.”

  “What do you mean?” Paul asked.

  “You're the perfect example,” Sarrac smiled. “The prophecies speak of a hero, or possibly heroes, who help save Zanoth from the undead scourge. Exactly how that happens, however, wasn't revealed to us. Some things, like recovering The Blade, were destined to be, and you can be sure the gods helped you succeed.”

  “Which seems to mean his fate is pretty much set,” Darek interjected.

  “In that particular case I agree,” the ogre conceded. “On the other hand, he certainly wasn't destined to save Myra, who I still believe is the daughter of darkness referenced in The Call. If we accept the idea that Paul is the it, then she has to be the daughter.”

  “I'm not certain of that, Sarrac,” Alena replied.

  “The prophecy says she will finally fall,” the ogre pointed out. “Meaning whoever the daughter is, she'll have been around for a long time before the it arrives. Then there's the fact that the word daughter was used in the first place. All women are daughters, but the daughter of darkness seems to have been conspicuously so. And Myra's adopted parents were vampires or, metaphorically, darkness. Then there's the fact that, until just days ago, she was one of the most powerful women in Zanoth. All the pieces fit. Before you met her, Alena, you had no doubt as to who she was. And I still don't.”

  “Let's just accept that she is the daughter,” Darek replied. “What's your point?”

  “Simply this,” Sarrac said, “What would have been the result of Paul's letting her burn or of having just slaughtered her at our first encounter?”

  “The prophecy would have been fulfilled,” Myra replied, gazing at the young man. “At least, from a certain point of view.”

  “I agree,” the ogre nodded. “And yet he didn't. But I fully believe that the prophecy will be fulfilled. Paul, just like the rest of us, chooses his own path and his choices shape his fate. If he had killed Myra she wouldn't be with us now. And I my opinion that would have been a tragedy, even if we had never known it.”

  “You're certainly right about that,” Alena replied, smiling at the maiden.

  “He chose mercy over justice,” Sarrac continued. “Because of that Myra is alive and our ally. But the prophecies could have been fulfilled another way.”

  “Alright,” Darek said. “Say she is the daughter, and we've saved her. How is she going to taste vengeance as the prophecy claims she will.”

  “She already has!” the ogress exclaimed. “Think about what's happened to her! Would you wish that on your worst enemies?”

  “That's a point,” he admitted.

  “It is,” Sarrac agreed. “However, I can see another possibility.”

  “And what's that?” Myra asked.

  “Let's get The Arms first,” the ogre replied. “Then we can discuss my thoughts on that subject.”

  “Try to get The Arms,” Nyssa corrected. “After all, if you're right we could all get killed by those lost souls.”

  “True,” Darek replied.

  Having selected their next destination, as well as given Paul time to dry his clothes, they proceeded with their normal evening routine before calling it a night. The following morning they were up shortly after the sun and once again on their way. As soon as Nyssa returned from her first reconnoiter of the day, Paul decided to speak to her on a subject that she had brought to mind, quite unintentionally, the night before.

  “Are you especially powerful?” he asked her. “For a fairy, I mean.”

  “I'm more powerful that some,” she replied. “And less powerful that others. Why do you ask?”

  “When we were in Falmarrin,” he began, “there must have been at least a thousand fairies there.”

  “At least,” she agreed.

  “Well it just struck me that you seem to slaughter undead without too much trouble.”

  “Some of them,” the fairy smiled.

  “And that being the case,” he said, “imagine what a thousand of you could do. I mean, an army of fairies who could become invisible at will and burn undead alive... or whatever... They would be hard to stop.”

  “Oh yes,” she giggled. “I mean, we don't all use fire. In fact, not many of us do. Still, you're right about us killing undead. They wouldn't know what hit them. They might be able to hide in their unhallowed halls, just because our magic is effected by unholy ground, but before long they'd be reduced to cowering in little islands of darkness set in a sea of light and holiness!”

  “Then we should ask the king for help.”

  “What?” she asked, with a tone of sincere surprised in her voice. “Why?”

  “If an army of fairies were helping us...”

  “Oh,” she giggled again. “I see what you mean. But they wouldn't. In fact, they couldn't.”

  “Why?”

  “It's the law of course!” she replied with a wide smile. “Fairies are never! ever! under any circumstances! allowed to interfere in the affairs of non-fey.”

  “Alright... but, I mean...” he said slowly, uncertain as to how to point out the obvious. “Nyssa, you interfere all the time. I've very happy that you do! But if it's against the law...”

  “The law,” she interrupted. “And of course it's not against the law if I'm allowed to do it. Don't be silly!”

  “But you just said...”

  “Oh right,” she interrupted again. “I keep forgetting that you don't know anything at all. It's easy to forget because you seem so smart sometimes. Like when you were explaining to all those endians about how to crack that ask code. Of course, sometimes I think it's like one of those birds that can talk. It's not like they're really talking. They're just repeating what they've heard. They don't know what it means, if you see what I mean. On the other hand, one time I saw this bird that could...”

  “Nyssa,” he interrupted for a change. “What is it I don't know?”

  “Loads!” she laughed. “But I suppose you mean about the current subject. And what you don't know about that, is that I was born on Zanoth. It's my home world.”

  “I thought Falmarrin was your home world.”

  “It is!”

  “Nyssa... would you please just explain from the beginning.”

  “Alright,” she sighed. “You see, all fairies have two home worlds. We're all from Falmarrin, in the sense that it's the realm of the fairies. But we're also all from some other world, in the sense that we were born there. My parents were from Zanoth and their parents were from Zanoth and so on back to... well, back to the beginning I guess.”

  “I thought Galfin was your father.”

  “Galfin is our father, not my father! My father's name was Tim.”

  “Tim?”

  “Yes! Why?”

  “Just seems like an odd name for a fairy.”

  “How many fairy names do you know?” she asked.
>
  “Two,” he admitted.

  “Well that's uncanny then,” she replied shaking her head. “Because Tim is an odd name for a fairy.”

  “So you were born here?” he said, hoping to prompt her from more information.

  “Absolutely!” she replied. “In fact, I was born at the same well where you first met me.”

  “And that means you can help us?”

  “Of course,” she smiled. “I can fight to defend my home world just like anyone else.”

  “Alright,” Paul nodded. “But doesn't that mean all the fairies of Zanoth could fight to save it.”

  “They can,” she nodded. “And they do. It's just... there aren't many of us left, Paul. A lot of us died during the war, just like everyone else. There are only a handful and we all fight for Zanoth as we think best. I became a Warrior of Dawn. The others didn't.”

  “I see,” the young man nodded.

  It was obvious that the fairy was somewhat troubled by the subject as her irrepressible joy seemed, at least momentarily, repressed. As such, the young man decided to drop the subject.

  “Well, I'm very glad you're with us,” he smiled.

  “So am I,” she replied. “And I better get back to work. We don't want to stumble into an army of undead.”

  “No,” he agreed. “No, we don't.”

  Just minutes later the fairy returned to the party flying at full speed.

  “We almost did it!” she exclaimed between panted breaths. “And I mean almost! If we had stayed in the valley...”

  “Hold on,” Alena said, raising her hand. “Almost did what?”

  “Stumbled into an army of undead, of course!” the fairy replied excitedly. “Come take a look down in the dale!”

  The fairy's companions all dismounted, tied their horses to nearby undergrowth, and followed her to the top of a nearby ridge. There, below them, moving through the valley in the direction of the waterfall they had just left hours before, was a small army. Fifty ghouls and ghasts rode at the head of the band followed by more than a hundred marching zombies.

  The rear guard was made up of a number of undead horrors that Paul had yet to encounter, but that Myra explained were called Reapers. These creatures looked like skeletons, but were completely armored from head to toe in chain-mail as was all being armed with large, razor-sharp scythes. They served as the elite shock troops of the undead legions. If they were on the march it meant that their enemies were taking the situation very seriously.