The Gray Tower Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Alesha Escobar

  I felt another whoosh of magic and heard more voices. I readied my magic and stepped back into the hallway. Three wizards rounded the corner and came my way. Excitement took hold of me and I motioned for them to join me, but when they saw me their eyes widened, and they came to a halt. One of the wizards, a young man I had seen at the embassy back in Switzerland, trained his gun on me.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I shouted, just as he pulled the trigger. The bullet missed my head by a centimeter, and I lurched back into the main control room.

  “Surrender, Tower Slaves!” A voice from further down the hall commanded. I heard the voices of over a dozen warlocks shouting in affirmation of the warlock’s command to the three wizards.

  I stepped back out--with caution and a Circle of Protection--and motioned again toward the three wizards. They looked conflicted. Well, the other young man and the girl did--the guy who had taken a shot at me seemed to have made up his mind.

  He aimed his gun again. “So, you decided to finish us off yourself. Is that it?”

  I groaned. I feared something like this would happen. “Moreau betrayed us. He tried to keep me behind. Now, get into this control room if you want to live!”

  I couldn’t see the warlocks from around the corner, but I could hear them. Their voices rose in unison, echoing off the walls. They taunted the three wizards and threatened them with torture.

  “We’ll feed you to the Black Wolves,” a few voices declared.

  “We’ll sacrifice you in the Sanctuary.”

  “You’ll wish you were dead when we’re through with you!”

  A blaze of fire crashed against the doorway leading to the canteen. The three wizards ran in my direction. I motioned for them to go inside the main control room, and they slipped inside with anxious expressions. When the warlocks finally turned the corner and faced me, they paused. Some eyed each other with silent questions while others wore nervous expressions. One of them finally stepped forward, a muscular man with dark hair and light blue eyes.

  “There are eighteen of us and only four of you. We know who you are, Drifter, and we have orders to take you to the throne room. We’ll spare those three if you surrender and come with us.”

  I looked to my left through the glass window. The three wizards stood in the control room with their faces frozen in fear. I turned and faced the warlocks. “You’re assuming you’ll get past me. You won’t.”

  The hallway ignited with spells of poison, fire, and ice. I immediately began my pulsations, slowing the rhythm of my heart, and with it, slowing time. Everything came to a halt, and the spells launched against me hung in the air. The warlocks gathered at the end of the hall stood like statues.

  Avoiding the tendrils of energy, dark clouds of pestilence, and spears of ice, I rushed toward the warlocks. I extended my hands, unleashing Zaman’s Fire on them. The flames fell on them like an explosion, engulfing them and burning them to a crisp where they stood. I released the pulsations and turned toward the main control room. The warlocks’ spells flew down the hall and hit the doorway leading to the courtyard with the swirling pool.

  I rushed over to the control room, mindful of the wizard who still held the gun. “Is everyone okay?”

  “Where were you?” the young woman asked.

  I slowly stepped into the control room. “I told you, Moreau betrayed us. He’s dead. He tried to hold me back and sever the teleportation spell. What happened out there in the forest?”

  The wizard with the gun ran a nervous hand through his black hair. “I’ll tell you what happened in the forest. They ambushed us. They knew we were coming.”

  The second man, with light brown hair, drew in a deep breath. “Some wizards broke away and left us right then and there. I don’t know what happened to them. Brande and a few others were trying to hold the group together, but when we saw that you hadn’t teleported...we thought the worst.”

  My chest tightened. “Where’s Brande? Master Erin? And Ekwueme?”

  The young woman spoke up. “We got cut off from them over by the armory, when we were stealing weapons. Brande took a group down below to go rescue the captives, and Master Erin led the other group toward the throne room. Some of us were still stuck on this level when the warlocks pushed back. They...killed most of our group, and we were afraid they’d make it over to the pool and destroy our teleportation symbols.”

  I nodded. “It was a good idea for you to try and protect the pool area, but you couldn’t have done it. Not with nearly twenty warlocks on your heels.”

  The dark-haired wizard with the gun stared at me. “Which brings us to you. The one person who held you under a heart-bind is dead, and we only have your word that he’s a traitor. You weren’t here when we needed you most, yet you conveniently showed up when we’ve suffered heavy loss.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “My mother and brother are down there locked up with the other captives. My husband is fighting his way through, trying to rescue them. If this was all my plan, then why would I endanger them like this?”

  His eyes watered, and he slid the gun into his belt. “You should’ve come sooner. You should’ve seen the Black Wolves in the forest--”

  “Believe me, I’ve seen them. I killed them all, just like those eighteen warlocks who were about to run you down.”

  The second man spoke up. “We can lay protective symbols around the courtyard, set everything up for the reverse teleportation using the energy from the pool.”

  “Then do it. Quickly.” I motioned toward the doorway. They ran out and made a right down the hall, toward the courtyard entrance.

  I turned left and went down the end of the hall, made another left, and came upon the armory and storage areas. The armory had been ransacked, and most of the weapons had been stolen. Smoke billowed from a recent fire that was hastily put out, and dead bodies of both wizards and warlocks littered the floor. I walked over to the elevator--it was destroyed. Every few seconds though, I could feel a shock of energy coming from a powerful spell, or the unpleasant scent of dark magic being used. I heard more gunfire, an explosion, and shouting.

  I looked around, but couldn’t find a stairwell that would take me up to the throne room. However, when I spotted a metal grate in the storage room, I remembered the map Praskovya had given me. A ventilation system ran throughout the Den, which would allow me to climb through and go toward the throne room.

  I stood on a crate and removed the grate from the wall. I climbed inside and started crawling through the air duct, going in the direction of the throne room. I shivered from the cold air blowing through and picked up my pace. I made it to the end of the air duct and found another iron grate secured. Beams of light from electric bulbs spilled through the grate’s teeth, and I quietly pulled up to view the throne room.

  The first thing I noticed was how spacious the room was; it could easily fit a few hundred people. The lights hanging above seemed to dim when they hit the black marble floor. A bright red train, a strip to guide someone walking in through the main door, ran across the room and ended right before Octavian’s obsidian throne. He even had it elevated on a platform, so that he could always look down at whoever stood across from him.

  I sensed a strong ward on the main door and could hear fighting just outside. Master Erin and those with her were still trying to push their way through warlocks in order to reach the throne room. I felt the electrifying energy of nature wizards, the buzzing in my ears that signaled mental magic and enchantments being cast. Despite the battle going on just outside his door, Octavian sat calmly with a slight lean and absentmindedly rubbed his clean-shaven chin.

  His large bright eyes seemed both observant and distant. Just as I remembered from our last encounter, he wore his hair in a cropped cut, and he didn’t bother to hide or retract his elongated canines. Then I saw the trio of people across from Octavian, all on their knees and wearing rags, I had to squeeze my knees just to control the violent reaction inside me.

  The wizards hel
d captive in front of Octavian had been captured during the attack at the Gray Tower. Their heads were shaven clean, and they were as bony as skeletons. They wore shackles made of imperium gold, which prevented them from using their magic. The shackles cuffed them at the wrists, with the chain leading from one person’s cuffs to the next. If one even thought about fighting or escaping, he couldn’t do it without the other captives’ cooperation.

  The Head of the Order of Wizards, Master Ovidio, was first in line and on his knees before Octavian. His shoulder-length white hair was all gone, and his usually unwavering eyes looked tired and sad. Despite the fact that we had not been on the best of terms when I last saw him, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for Ovidio. Behind him was Master Edom, one of the Three Master Council wizards, like Ekwueme. Scars marred Edom’s face, and his eyes were downcast. A woman, a wizard who I remembered was named Thalia, sat next to Edom. With a pang, I noticed three empty sets of cuffs at the end of the line, lying on the floor.

  Just below my iron grate stood a large dark pit with Black Wolves clawing and writhing inside. Their upper-halves were human, but the lower halves of their bodies reminded me of large scaly snakes. I wondered if these were newly transforming Wolves. Their bodies were muscular and covered in a thin layer of slime. I shuddered, imagining how easy it would be for Octavian to toss someone into the pit with those Wolves.

  The Cruenti Master finally straightened his back and glanced in the direction of the vent. I could see his eyes and aquiline nose through the slit in the grate. He smirked. My heart froze in my chest at his facial expression--he knew I was here. I tried making a move to burst through the vent, but my limbs stiffened, and I was paralyzed. He had used telekinesis to hold me in place. A buzzing noise penetrated my ears, and I heard Octavian’s voice in my head.

  Watch and learn. I’ll show you who these Tower wizards truly are.

  “I’ve taken everything you hold dear,” Octavian said in his full-toned voice as he turned his gaze back toward the captives. “Must I destroy you as well?”

  Master Ovidio sighed. “You’re going to kill us no matter what we say or do. We will never renounce who we are, Octavian.”

  Octavian’s fist balled, and the dark magic surrounding him gave off a putrid stench that cried out to be struck down. “I tried offering you a truce, and you refused. Then you killed my brother.”

  Edom spoke up. “Does the Light form a truce with the Dark?”

  Master Ovidio stared at Octavian. “I never thought I’d say this, but Marcellus’ death is something for which I would thank the Drifter.”

  Octavian’s nostrils flared. “I will have her soon enough, and you will be exposed for the self-serving hypocrites you are. The world will know how you destroyed its chance to be led somewhere greater--somewhere sublime. Your Order killed off the Drifters. Perhaps if you weren’t so arrogant, my coven would have stayed out of this war, but now we will continue using the Nazis as a hammer to destroy you and chastise whomever we please. And when your bones are charred and rotted through, and the nations realize they have nowhere else to turn--then they will accept the Drifter, and I will take my rightful place.”

  Ovidio shook his head, and his chest rattled in a cough that became a weak laugh. “Astounding...after all these years, you still concern yourself with whether the Masters esteem you or fear you. Hide behind whatever false indignation you like, but I can see it. We were right to pass you up for admission to the Order--look at what you’ve become.”

  Octavian stood so quickly that Thalia, who was at the end of the row, fell back and disturbed the rest of the line. Master Edom nearly lost his balance, and Ovidio’s arms jerked to the left, though he never turned his face away from Octavian. The Cruenti Master marched down his platform and toward the captives. He towered over Master Ovidio.

  “I commend your wizards for putting up a fight and trying to rescue you. However, the moment I lower the ward on the main door, I will destroy them.”

  Master Ovidio’s face drained of all color. “You...won’t even take them prisoner?”

  Octavian turned and walked back toward his seat. “Did you ever take Drifters prisoner?”

  “The Drifters are too dangerous. It was our duty to protect the world--”

  “So you say.” He motioned for silence.

  Octavian glanced in the direction of the iron grate. Even now, he would put you to death. Do you want to save someone like this?

  I didn’t respond. Part of me was afraid to engage in mental communication with him, and the other part knew that he was baiting me, trying to make me angry toward the Master Wizards and see him as an ally.

  Octavian rolled up his sleeves. I spotted the black infinity symbol on the side of his right arm. “Lower the ward. Open the main door.”

  A warlock draped in a blood-red hood and cloak came from the far corner and extended his hand toward the door.

  Master Ovidio groaned. “Octavian, don’t do this.”

  The main door reverberated with a loud bang, and a rush of energy poured from it and scattered throughout the throne room. Octavian smiled. He wanted the Tower wizards to come through. The door flew open, and the fighting spilled into the throne room. The Black Wolves writhing in the pit beneath me howled and swiped at the dark marble walls. Their excitement increased with the tension and fear. I swallowed and forced myself not to vomit when I heard unnatural gurgling noises coming from their throats--they were trying to speak.

  “Flesh...Flesh!” the Wolves said in unison. It sent a chill down my spine.

  As soon as I felt Octavian’s telekinetic hold on me subside, I carved an Air symbol and sent a blast of wind, hitting the grate, knocking it down and into the pit with the Wolves. I jumped out of the air duct, propelled by the same force I had used to knock the grate down. I fell into a roll near the warlock with the red hood and cloak. I cast a Circadian Circle and struck him so hard with a bolt of energy that he immediately dropped dead.

  I rushed over to the wizard, Thalia, and framed her head with my hands. I sent a tendril of healing energy into her. It looked like she was ready to faint.

  I turned and saw Cathana Erin and ten of her wizards launch spells of fire and wind at Octavian. He dove to the side to avoid being hit. He reciprocated with fire as well, but used an eerie blue flame like the one I had seen used by the Black Wolf in the forest.

  An alarm went off, and more of my wizards--and Octavian’s warlocks--poured into the throne room, fighting with daggers, guns, and magic. Octavian cast a Circle of Protection around himself and spoke in the language of the Black Wolves, commanding the writhing monsters in the pit to crawl out and attack.

  I grabbed the cuffs around Thalia’s wrists and cast a Circadian Circle. I used the energy from the Circle to draw out the impurities in the imperium gold so that I would be able to cast an alchemical spell on the cuffs. I carved reverse Fixation symbols onto them so that the Fixations would destabilize the solid metal. I infused the alchemical symbols with magical energy, spreading it to Master Edom’s and Ovidio’s chains. I worked and manipulated the metal until it was soft enough for them to slip their hands out.

  Thalia stared at me in astonishment. Master Edom wrapped an arm around her. He gazed at me with his large dark eyes. “Thank you, Isabella.”

  “Watch out!” Master Ovidio jumped forward and erected a wall of fire to shield us from three Black Wolves leaping toward us.

  More wizards and warlocks had poured into the throne room, both sides trying to beat each other into submission. Octavian was near the pit, battling with the Vatican wizard, Thierry. The wizard made a gesture with his hand, sending a tendril of energy toward Octavian. He shielded himself from Thierry’s attack, but the wizard quickly followed up with a spell that hit Octavian’s left arm. The skin on Octavian’s arm turned ash gray and became like stone. It reminded me of the spell my father had cast against Lyov Praskovya.

  I thought Octavian would be frightened by the stone-making spell. As a nature wizard, Thierry co
uld easily manipulate the structure of Octavian’s body. Instead of falling back, the Cruenti master moved forward with lightening speed and smashed his stone fist into Thierry’s face. The wizard stumbled backward, and both Master Ovidio and I ran toward them. Two of the half-snake Wolves writhing in the pit used their human arms to drag Thierry inside.

  Master Ovidio sent a sphere of water toward Octavian. It swallowed and enveloped him, holding him hostage in mid-air. Octavian opened his mouth, and a few bubbles escaped. He banged his fists against the surface of the water sphere, but to no avail. He began struggling to breathe.

  I made it over to the edge of the pit and saw three Black Wolves. Their backs were turned to me, and they snarled and clawed at something in the far left corner. I jumped inside and sent a wave of Zaman’s Fire toward them. I gagged at the scent of their burning flesh wafting toward me and grimaced at the sound of their cries. They jumped out of the pit, howling. I spotted Thierry crouched in the corner, holding his arms crossed over his head in a defensive position.

  “Can you move?” I knelt in front of him and gently handled his arm. A chunk of skin had been bitten off, and deep claw marks ran in lines across his arm.

  “They broke my shield. I thought they were going to devour me.” He hissed when I held onto him.

  “Stay still.” I sent a rush of energy toward him, pushing it from my center and down my arms, to my hands, and onto his injured skin. I couldn’t heal the area that had been bitten into, but I was at least able to give relief to the minor cuts and wounds.