The Gray Tower Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Alesha Escobar

  “Wonderful.”

  “Have you ever been outside of the Gray Tower on assignment?” I asked.

  She frowned. “I once accompanied the Master Alchemist to hunt down a Black Wolf terrorizing a small town.”

  “Okay, that’s something,” I said with a nod of approval. “Let’s go.”

  She fell into step with me as we passed through the exitway and onto the sidewalk leading to the checkpoint. She said in a harsh whisper, “I hope you aren’t trying to get me killed.”

  “We’ll be fine.”

  “We are dressed like harlots and walking straight toward a German military checkpoint. We most certainly will not be fine.” She adjusted her tight skirt and staggered in her heels.

  Darkness began to fall, and all was quiet and clear except for the blockade up ahead. The soldiers had cut off the street with a roadblock consisting of large steel barrels and had a trekker parked to the side. They set up a table on the sidewalk, with a radio transmitter and supply box, perhaps to check the identification of stragglers in the streets. I counted eight soldiers of the German Army at the checkpoint, ready to intercept us. I could taste the iron-tipped bullets in their guns and even caught the glimmer of gold imperium collars hanging at the belts of a few. The fact that they carried special pistols with those types of bullets meant that they were ready to go against wizards, just like those policemen back in Budapest, who had ambushed us at the park. I clenched my jaw at the sight of the imperium collars, recalling a couple of times when they had been placed around my neck and I was forced to obey another’s commands. I scanned the area and saw no SS officers in sight; they must’ve already escorted Brande and the others to the warehouse.

  “Come over this way,” one of the soldiers instructed us, shining his flashlight. “Don’t you know there’s a curfew?”

  Christine gave an icy stare. I nudged her to remind her that haughty attitudes wouldn’t get us past checkpoints. I waved toward the soldier near the table who had flashed his light. As we approached him, I cleared my throat and said in a singsong voice, “Yes, we were on our way home. Are we too late to pass through?”

  The soldier with the flashlight smiled at Christine. “Is this your friend? Sister?”

  Well, I gave her credit for not sneering. She mustered a smile and said hello to him. He asked her to sit down at the table, and she obeyed. With one hand reaching flirtatiously over to the soldier and the other beneath the surface of the table, she sat ready to draw her alchemist’s knife. The other guys began catcalling us, and I reached into my purse for my secret weapon--a flask of liquor drugged with valerian sleeping potion. The regular soldiers were easy to please. I tossed it toward the group, and one of them caught it. He took a swig and passed it around to his comrades. Some of them even asked if I had any cigarettes on me. I strolled over toward them and casually leaned against the roadblock. I glanced over and saw eight women and twelve small children huddled together on the other side at the curb. They were all chained together, and some of the children had dirty, tear-streaked faces. Some of the women wore expressions of fear, and a few hung their heads low. A blaze of anger ran through me, and my first instinct was to blast the soldiers with Zaman’s Fire so I could free the captives, but we needed to wait for Brande’s signal, down at the warehouse.

  “What’s your name, sweetheart?” one of the soldiers asked.

  “How often do you come by this way?” another queried.

  “You girls are beautiful,” a third one said.

  I flashed them a smile. “Did you enjoy the drink?”

  The one who had first taken a swig began to sway. “Scheisse...”

  Each of them began dropping like flies, except the soldier sitting at the table with Christine, who never drank from the flask. His eyes widened in shock as he reached for his gun in his holster, but Christine pulled out her alchemist’s knife and held it to his throat.

  “Place both of your hands on the table, or God help me, I’ll make a headless man out of you.” There was a slight trill in her voice, though her hand remained steady, with the knife against the soldier’s skin.

  The radio receiver sitting on the table next to the soldier spat out static, and a male Russian voice said, “Eichel, kill the captives at the checkpoint and bring me their bodies. Prepare to move into upper-town, just in case there are more wizards.”

  The solider, presumably Eichel, inclined his head toward the receiver. “If I don’t answer...they’ll know something’s wrong,” he said.

  Christine tightened her grip on the knife. “Quickly,” she said in a low voice.

  Eichel slowly reached for the radio transmitter and pushed the button on the receiver. “Understood. I’ll get the men ready.”

  Christine’s lower lip trembled, and she glared at him. “You...you were going to kill those women and children, regardless of what we did.”

  “Listen...I’m just following orders,” Eichel responded, raising both hands in surrender. Suddenly, in a swift motion, he grabbed Christine’s knife-hand and tried to turn the blade inward to pierce her neck.

  I called forth my Fire, and a large spark burst over his head and fell onto him. Eichel threw himself backward with a shriek and fell to the ground. His arms flailed as he snuffed the flames, but he still screamed from the burns. He threw himself over the blockade and tried to run down the street, in the direction of the warehouse. Christine rushed forward and sent her knife whizzing through the air. It pierced Eichel below the base of his skull, and he froze in stunned silence. He fell to the ground with a grunt.

  Christine and I stole pistols from the unconscious soldiers before jumping over the blockade barrels. We approached the women and children, working as fast as we could to unchain them. One of the women, with long brown hair and a pretty face marred by a black eye, spoke up. “They have some of our husbands and older children in the warehouse.”

  “Then we’ll get them,” I said, tempted to set the unconscious soldiers ablaze. They could say they were following orders all they wanted, but their orders were reprehensible.

  “Thank you,” the woman said.

  “You’re welcome. Here...let’s switch.” I gestured toward her dark gray pants and loafers, and she nodded in response. I gave up my heels and skirt, and we quickly made the exchange.

  Another of the women came forward and did the same for Christine. She passed her a pair of brown pants and flats. Christine wore a relieved expression. She was probably glad she didn’t have to wear that scandalous short skirt. Just as we instructed the women to leave for the Mala Kuca Inn with the children, a long, winding column of fire erupted from the warehouse, breaking through the roof and shooting into the dark sky.

  Brande’s signal.

  “Come on,” I told Christine. “Master Lan and the others will be following behind us. Let’s get to the warehouse.”

  We hastily repeated our instructions once more to the women and then sprinted down the empty street, our only witnesses peeking from dimly lit windows in apartment buildings or above closed shops. We rounded a corner and passed through the industrial area, where a few trucks lined the street. The warehouse was just ahead. We turned into a nearby alley for cover and peeked around the corner, noting the strong magical ward that sealed the gateway. If that weren’t enough, three powerful warlocks stood guard just outside. Goosebumps ran down my arms, and I felt a knot in my stomach in reaction to the stench of their tainted magical auras wafting toward me.

  The warlock in the middle was so unnaturally tall that he frightened me. He had a completely shaved head and wore black fatigues. The warlock to his right had short blond hair and black eyes, and the one on the left had jet-black hair and a muscular frame. They both wore the same uniform as the tall warlock in the middle.

  Christine leaned against the brick wall of the building we hid behind, and she turned to face me. “Draw them out with your fire, and I’ll slip through and break the ward on the gate.”

  I grimaced at the idea of having to go
up against the creepy, tall warlock. “Okay, I guess I could do that. Master Lan and his team should be here any second.”

  “And thank you, Isabella...for what you did at the checkpoint.”

  “You would’ve done the same.” Or, at least I hoped.

  She smiled. “Now, shall we go bring those women their husbands and children, like we promised?”

  With a grim nod, I stepped out and fired iron-tipped bullets from my pistol and hit the black-haired warlock in the shoulder. Another bullet whizzed past the tall one, and the blond warlock sent a parked truck skidding toward me, using telekinesis. I dove to the side, behind another truck, on the other side of the street and took another few shots. The telekinetic warlock shielded himself, while the black-haired one bled profusely from his shoulder. He stumbled and faltered as a black liquid protruded from his mouth. I cursed under my breath when I saw the tall one strolling in my direction, not even flinching in reaction to the gunfire. I pivoted outward and shot my last bullet at him, and his head bent and folded like dough, allowing the bullet to make a clean pass without striking him. His head formed back into shape, and he smirked at me.

  The telekinetic rushed forward and hit me with an invisible shockwave, and I flew backward. I landed into a roll and quickly got back on my feet. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Christine sneak past parked cars lining the street and heading straight for the warded gate. The tall warlock contorted his body in the same manner he had done his head, and seemed to slither along the ground like a snake. I jumped onto another parked car and sent a streak of fire toward him, but his movements were so quick that he evaded the blaze.

  I nearly crashed face-first into the ground when the telekinetic warlock sent both the car and me falling to the side. I forced myself to my feet and positioned my arms, blocking an incoming strike from the tall warlock. The brunt of the force sent me stumbling backward, landing back on the ground again. He elongated his arms and encircled his fingers around my throat, squeezing with ferocity.

  I called forth my Fire as I struggled to breathe, and the air began crackling around the warlock until a halo of flames surrounded him, rushing to consume him. He let out a loud cry, and I coughed at the smoke and scent of burnt flesh assaulting my nose. A crack of lightning hit him, and he released me. His eyes widened, and he backed away. I turned to look over my shoulder and saw Master Lan and the other wizards rushing toward us.

  The tall warlock ran toward the telekinetic, who sent another truck skidding toward me in the middle of the street. An invisible force halted the truck’s momentum, and, with a loud creak, it began sliding toward the two warlocks. Before they could get out of its way, the truck smashed into them, then rose into the air--and crushed them into the ground again.

  I jumped to my feet and saw Nikon Praskovya emerge from the shadows. The truck must’ve been her doing; she was also a telekinetic. I wondered how long she had been cloaked in the darkness, watching my fight with the warlocks, perhaps debating if she should let them kill me so she could be free of her heart-bind.

  “Praskovya...what are you doing here?”

  “Just remember what I told you about Lyov. He’s mine.”

  I shook my head. Killing her father was all she cared about. I glanced over my shoulder and signaled toward Master Lan. His group of wizards accompanied him, and they ran in our direction.

  “We’re ready,” Lan said, nodding toward the gate. It finally opened up for us when Christine broke the ward.

  “I’ll take a few wizards through the front with Christine and me.” I glanced around the area to find Praskovya. I was going to ask her to take the front with us, but she had slipped away as quickly as she had arrived.

  Lan gestured to half his group. They had both magic and weapons ready. “Go with them. And be safe.”

  We heard a loud roar that reverberated throughout the property. The sound was so powerful that it shattered the glass in nearby windows. I immediately thought of Master Skye. I signaled to one of the wizards, an elemental, to send a blast of wind that knocked the front doors off their hinges. Four warlocks, who had been poised at the entrance, flew backward into the hall that led to the main storage area. The other wizards with us sent ice and wind toward the warlocks in a whoosh of magic, and Christine fell into step with me as we moved on toward the main storage area.

  When we made it through a large doorway, our gazes landed on Master Skye, who had transformed into the Black Dragon. He pitted himself between the hostages and four warlocks. Three of the warlocks wielded silver swords and kept a cautious distance between themselves and the dragon. One of the warlocks stepped in quickly and made a strike with his sword, but it was unable to penetrate the dragon’s glistening black scales. The dragon hissed, his obsidian eyes, with their yellow-slit pupils, narrowing in irritation. The sword-less warlock brought forth the familiar crackling of sparks which would form into blazes of fire, but the dragon screeched and snaked its neck toward the warlock, seizing him between his teeth. The warlock let out a scream as the dragon bit down with a hard chomp, leaving his body to spasm before finally going limp. The dragon tossed his body aside. The three warlocks with swords used the distraction of their fallen comrade to move in and make thrusts toward the dragon’s sensitive neck and underbelly.

  Christine and I ran parallel to the wall, on the right side, in order to stay out of the way. We motioned toward the hostages to carefully come in our direction and leave through the front entrance. I urged the men and children onward, toward the front, and turned to see the dragon making a sweeping movement with his paw, digging his talons into the head and neck of one of the swordsmen. The warlock didn’t even scream--probably because he had a talon piercing his throat. The man’s sword clattered to the floor, and the dragon tossed him across the warehouse like a rag doll. The second warlock managed to pierce the dragon’s neck with his sword, and the dragon reared with a shriek as dark red blood began pouring from the wound.

  “We have to help him,” I said to Christine. She drew her knife and pressed the hilt into my hand.

  We both rushed forward, and Christine threw herself into a roll, swiping the abandoned sword on the ground and standing just in time to parry a strike from the third warlock. The one who had pierced the dragon retrieved his blade and raised his arm for another strike, but the dragon weaved a spell that caused the sword to melt and fall like molten lava over the warlock’s hands. He screeched in agony, stumbling backward, and right into my grasp. I made a few quick thrusts of the silver knife into his middle, and his body tensed. I let his lifeless body fall to the floor and approached the dragon.

  “Master Skye?” I eyed the dragon with trepidation.

  He responded with a low growl, but at least there was recognition in his eyes. He held his head at eye-level with me, and I touched the side of his scaly face. When he raised his head higher, I examined the wound. Slowly, the wounded skin began regenerating, and I sighed with relief. I turned to see Christine deliver a killing thrust to the warlock who had been dueling with her. He dropped to the ground with a grunt, and she heaved with exhaustion, trying to catch her breath.

  A large explosion from the east side rocked the entire building and sent smoke billowing through the large hallway to our left. I thought of Brande, Mehara, Cliff, and Sadik. The dragon lowered his head and trembled, and, though he had probably finished healing from the sword wound in his neck, I knew it had cost him a great amount of physical and magical energy to make it this far.

  “Hey...stay here and wait for us. I’ll signal for you if we need you.” It was a lie, because I didn’t want to call for him. His exhaustion was going to make him even more vulnerable. He had done all he could, for now.

  “Isabella...” Christine nodded in the direction of the hall that led to the east side. “We have to get to the other wizards.”

  I raised my hand to the dragon. “We’ll be back.” I slid my hand across his scales, thinking this was probably the only chance I’d get to touch such a marvelous cr
eature. He groaned and sighed, dropping his head, but still scanning the area with alert eyes.

  I followed Christine over to the left and down the hall, coughing at the black smoke flying toward us. The hallway opened into another large storage chamber, where chaotic fights and magical battles ensued. Master Lan, Mehara, and several of his wizards were fighting off four Black Wolves on the far left side, while Cliff and Sadik had barricaded themselves on the right side, behind some crates, and exchanged gunfire with the remaining SS officers, just across from them. Several lifeless bodies, from both sides, lay strewn across the mid-section of the area. Christine and I ran to the left and ducked behind a large desk.

  Straight ahead, Brande stood on the second-level loft, dual-wielding Cossack daggers against Lyov Praskovya, who parried Brande’s strikes with an enchanted sword that glowed an eerie gray-yellow. The Cruenti warlock matched Brande in height and speed, though his build was leaner. Lyov’s dark suit didn’t seem to restrict his movements as he flawlessly defended himself with his sword. In his arrogance, the Cruenti dressed as if he were going to step away from this carnage and attend a formal dinner.

  “I’ll go for Cliff and Sadik,” I told Christine, “and you can lay symbols to hit the Black Wolves from behind.”

  She accepted her knife back and began carving alchemical symbols for Air and Fire. I could feel the instant she infused them with her magical energy. I stood and made the stance that Izsak had taught me for the Circadian Circle. I prayed that I had recovered enough from Ammon’s last draining in order to finally cast it. I focused all my energy and concentration, using the foundation of the golden mean. Once I felt the power of the Circle around me, I extended my hand to the SS officers shooting at Cliff and Sadik, who had now run out of ammunition. Two of the officers fell unconscious, and the others began moving in slow motion, as if underwater. The boys used it as an opportunity to leave their perch and swipe some weapons on the ground.