The Gray Tower Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Alesha Escobar

  “You disappoint me,” the Cruenti said to Praskovya. “I thought perhaps you had purged the desire to end my life from your system.”

  “It will be out of my system once you’re dead.” Her jaw tightened.

  “Where’s your master?” Brande asked, as Ekwueme and Father Gabriel began weaving spells to launch against Lyov.

  The Cruenti smirked--and then he suddenly grimaced.

  A plume of smoke shot from the hole in the ceiling, descending and surrounding Lyov like a fog. Glistening talons crept from the darkness and dug into the ceiling as the Black Dragon’s head emerged. The dragon gazed at us with its yellow slit pupils and bared its teeth. I couldn’t recognize Master Skye in those eyes anymore. He had completely let it take over.

  “Here!” Lyov shouted at the Black Dragon, gesturing toward Bianca, who still lay unconscious on the altar. “Take her and leave me, beast.”

  The dragon roared and sent a spell of poison toward Lyov. The black mist flew toward the Cruenti, who fell back and shielded himself. The Black Dragon swung its head around and opened its mouth toward Bianca, but Brande cast a spell of fire that erupted over its head and came crashing down. With a frustrated roar, the dragon flew from its perch up in the ceiling and headed straight for us. It was a black blur of corded muscle, sharp teeth, and deadly magic.

  Father Gabriel’s elemental fire shot out at the Black Dragon, and the creature came crashing down near us, shrieking in response to the hit it took from Gabriel’s fire. Saliva dripped from the dragon’s mouth as it tried to seize Praskovya between its teeth, but Neal pulled her out of the way. Brande hit the dragon with a blast of icy wind, but the dragon quickly reciprocated with an equally powerful ice-blast from its mouth. The force of the cold wind threw Brande, Praskovya, and Neal backward. Neal jumped to his feet, raising his right hand and speaking a Word. The dragon screeched and wagged its head before dashing after him. Neal ran through the doorway to the right, which led to the other antechamber. Brande and Praskovya followed, taunting the Black Dragon and sending spells flying at it, so that it wouldn’t run down Neal.

  Ekwueme began engaging Lyov in battle, and it reminded me of the fight between my dad and Kasper Zurek. Tendrils of magic vibrated across the air as the two Philosophers directed spells toward each other with merely the use of a few Words. The air grew dense with their magic, and when Lyov screeched and swerved, I knew Ekwueme had the upper hand. The Dark Philosopher cradled a bloodied hand and dodged another spell hurled at him. He ran toward the antechamber on the right, and Ekwueme rushed after him.

  Father Gabriel and I ran toward Bianca and began unbinding her, but we froze in shock when a raspy laugh escaped her throat--even though it looked like she was still unconscious. Gabriel quickly removed the blindfold from her eyes; they were still closed. I took a step back when an odd lump rose in her throat, and a weird gurgling sound erupted from her mouth.

  “Isabella,” I heard Bianca’s voice say, “you’re really starting to piss me off!”

  Father Gabriel also took a step back. He mouthed the words, “It’s the demon.”

  My stomach churned. “Are you inside her? Leave her alone.”

  Father Gabriel spoke up. “She’s still unconscious. He’s manipulating her vocal chords to speak to you. He doesn’t want to appear to you.”

  “And get hit with five or ten Circadian Circles?” Bianca’s voice croaked. “I think not.”

  Goosebumps ran down my arms, and I could feel Ammon’s dark presence. All I needed was for him to take some form and show himself so we could enact the Tenentur spell.

  I gave Father Gabriel a knowing look, and then addressed Ammon. “What could you possibly offer me this time? It’s over for you.”

  Bianca’s throat made the weird lumpy movement again. “Your mother is as good as dead.”

  My insides tightened, and the image of her blank stare and saliva streaking down her chin flashed through my mind. My eyes burned. “You know what happened to my mother?”

  “More importantly, I know how to fix her. It requires a talent far beyond what your human mentalists are capable of.”

  When I didn’t immediately answer, Father Gabriel raised an eyebrow as if asking me if I was really considering the offer.

  “Show yourself,” I commanded in a loud voice. I kept my mental focus on my mother, on all the regret and anger I felt about not being able to save her. I knew Ammon would try and gauge my feelings, and so I poured out toward him the memory and emotions I felt when I discovered her mind had been wiped clean.

  A few moments passed in uncertain silence. Bianca’s throat croaked once again, and an eerie black mist rose from beneath her. An invisible force threw Father Gabriel backward, and he let out a shout as his back smacked against the wall on the opposite side. The black mist gathered and took form, until it was a tall charcoal figure with red eyes.

  Ammon extended his dark hand toward me. “Octavian has destroyed your mother’s mind to the point that she’ll never eat or sleep. She’ll die a slow, painful death. But, I can return your mother to you in perfect health. You, her, your brother and your father--you’ll all be a family again. Like you’ve always wanted. Yes?”

  Gabriel rose to his feet and stumbled toward us. “Isabella...”

  I drew in a deep breath, and felt the guilt tearing into my heart and mind. I’m sorry Mom...

  I cast six Circadian Circles at once, and they enclosed Ammon in a box so he couldn’t fly, sink into the earth, or move about. Ammon screeched and began flitting wildly inside the enclosure I created around him. When I felt him try to pry or burrow through my Circles, I threw even more magical energy into them and fortified them.

  Father Gabriel approached and immediately began the Tenentur incantation. Ammon roared and opened his mouth; rows of shattered teeth gnawed furiously at the Circle directly in front of him. The demon began morphing--first into the angular-jawed man, then a woman with long dark hair, then a handsome man from an era long past, and even a little girl. He kept erratically switching his appearance while simultaneously screeching and lashing out against his prison.

  Father Gabriel’s voice rose as he repeated the final words of the incantation. His words were laced with power. “Tenentur in spiritu tuo!”

  I drew from the power of the Circles and began weaving tendrils of energy around Ammon. I calmed my heart, focusing on my pulsations. Time came to a halt, and a jagged time rift erupted above us. The rift opened wider, and I sent the other end of the tendrils shooting toward it. Ammon returned to the form of a dark, shadowy figure. Cold, hate-filled eyes glared at me as the tendrils began forcing Ammon toward the open rift.

  His head folded and twisted as he tried to resist the force of the rift. “Isabella...we can go back and prevent what Octavian did to your mother. We can restore your father’s sight--anything that has caused you suffering can be undone. I can show you how.” He screeched when his shadowy head burst in half and was still being pulled upward toward the open rift.

  I shook my head. “I’m undoing one of my biggest mistakes right now.”

  I threw a rush of energy into the tendrils, and Ammon’s dark figure flew upward into the rift. The closer he got to it, the more his form broke apart. He shouted again and pleaded, but I ignored his words. As soon as his shadowy figure touched the light of the rift, he shattered into a thousand pieces, floating in mid-air, like dust. His shrieks faded, and the floating dark speckles rushed into the rift. I sealed the rift shut and let go of the pulsations. The power of the Circles faded, and time returned to its normal flow.

  I doubled over and exhaled. I almost wanted to cry, because when this was all over, I’d have a blind father and a brain-dead mother. Two of the people I wanted most to save...I could never make whole again.

  “Isabella?” Bianca slowly sat up and gazed at me. Her voice was hoarse, and she reached for her neck, looking like she wanted to vomit.

  “Are you all right?” I ran toward her and eased her off the altar. “Fath
er Gabriel--”

  “Wait,” he said, drawing his sword and stepping toward the corridor on the right. “Do you feel that?”

  When the hairs on the back of my neck raised and I felt the electrifying power of nature magic, I knew the Black Dragon was headed our way. A loud roar reverberated throughout the Sanctuary. Ekwueme ran in--I swore I had never seen the dignified Master Wizard move that fast. The Black Dragon flew in and tried seizing Ekwueme between its teeth. The wizard swerved in a smooth motion and avoided the grasp of the dragon. He rushed toward the outer edge of the Sanctuary so that they’d steer clear of us. Gabriel ran toward the dragon and launched a fire spell, readying his silver sword.

  The dragon snarled and wove a paralysis spell around Ekwueme and Gabriel. The dragon’s spell was so quick and precise that I didn’t even realize what it had done until the two men fell to the floor like bags of bricks. The dragon paused and sniffed the air, and its serpentine tongue slithered in and out of its mouth. It turned its gaze directly toward me.

  It’s you, it seemed to say with its glowing yellow eyes.

  “Bianca, get out of here!” I pushed her aside just as the Black Dragon rushed toward me. I threw a protective shield over me. In that moment of panic, it was my most natural reflex. The dragon broke through my shield with a counterspell and had its mouth around my torso, but something kept it from chomping down and breaking me in half.

  I turned and saw Bianca. With her gray gown, disheveled black hair, and pallid skin, she looked like she had just escaped from a hospital bed. She had resolve in her eyes though, and strength in her hand as she extended her glowing palm toward the dragon. She repeated some sort of spell in a low voice. I remembered that she had dual abilities as both a nature wizard and a Philosopher, and then it dawned on me that she wasn’t just casting a spell--she was invoking a string of Words against the dragon. Whatever she was saying, it forced him to halt; he could not bite down, instead the dragon released me and backed away.

  Brande and Neal rushed in carrying swords. The Black Dragon screeched when it saw them, flapped its wings and lifted itself into the air. Brande launched a stream of fire toward it, his fire clipped the dragon’s left wing, and it faltered, crashing to the floor. Neal approached and voiced an enchantment that loosened the paralysis on Ekwueme and Gabriel. The dragon growled and flew into the corridor leading to the next antechamber.

  Praskovya entered the Sanctuary with Lyov. She held a dagger against his neck and marched him toward us. “Kneel!” Her command echoed throughout the Sanctuary.

  Lyov, bloodied and bruised, obeyed. His daughter’s blade rested beneath his chin, and a drop of blood streamed down his neck.

  Praskovya’s grip on her dagger was strong and steady. She glanced at me before returning her icy gaze to Lyov. “What should we do with him?”

  Lyov sneered. “Go ahead. Kill me. Get the revenge you’ve sought all these years.”

  She pressed the tip of the blade into his neck, her hand jittering. Her expression looked torn, as if she were undergoing an internal debate. She sighed. “Killing you a thousand times won’t bring back Nastya. You would actually die proud, knowing I had become like you--the one thing I hate most.”

  Lyov’s nostrils flared. “But I let you live, my dear Nikon. Remember that.”

  She slapped him and cursed at him in Russian. He had handed her over to Octavian when she was only sixteen. She wore a painful expression. “I think the great Lyov Praskovya, humiliated and captured by the remnant wizards of the Gray Tower, sounds much better than dying in the bowels of the Den.” She raised the dagger and pointed the tip of its blade toward his left eye. “Perhaps there’s a deep, dark hole they can shove you in for the rest of your miserable life.”

  Lyov swallowed. “So...you’re not going to kill me?”

  “I’m going to find that damned dragon.” She handed her dagger to Brande and took his sword in exchange. Without another word, she walked away.

  I didn’t know what to think of that. I was secretly hoping she’d chop Lyov’s head off. Ekwueme remained stone-faced, and Neal looked puzzled. Brande looked relieved and probably felt that Praskovya had redeemed herself. Father Gabriel limped toward us.

  Lyov glanced left and right. No one was there to come to his rescue. Instead of growing fearful, he belted out a laugh. We all eyed each other, silently asking if he had finally gone berserk. He chuckled. “I can’t believe she walked away.” He snorted a laugh as if being let in on a joke. “What did you do? Convince her I wasn’t worth it?” His gaze fell on Father Gabriel. “Did she find Jesus? Please...please turn me over to the British, the Americans...whoever. I have valuable information on the Nazis, as well as many warlocks. They will never lock me away in a dark hole, as long as I feed them the information they want.”

  I drew my silver knife. “Is anyone else itching to give this guy a case of sword-in-the-mouth-itis?”

  Lyov smirked at me. “I’m unarmed, and I’m surrendering. I believe there’s something called the Geneva Protocol that you must follow?”

  Brande glared at him. “I don’t think the protocol applies to bloodsuckers like you.”

  He sniffed. “Kill me like this, and you’re no better than me. That’s what you fools believe, don’t you?”

  The Sanctuary shook as the Black Dragon returned in a fury, breathing ice-cold shards and sending them flying at us. We all ran or dove for cover. I jumped behind the altar and threw up a protective shield. I saw Lyov still in his kneeling position, impaled by a long shard from which he couldn’t loose himself. The Black Dragon pounced on the Cruenti and knocked him to the floor. The ice shard cracked as the Cruenti slammed against the ground.

  “Stop!” Lyov roared.

  The Black Dragon narrowed its eyes. In a quick and smooth motion, the dragon seized Lyov’s head and tore it off. It let the severed head drop from its mouth and roll across the floor--and then it gazed at us in a manner that told us we were next. The dragon caused the ceiling above us to bloom with a dark orange sheet of fire, and the flames came crashing down on us. Those of us who weren’t elemental wizards shielded ourselves and ran for the corridors amidst the fiery chaos.

  I slipped into the corridor leading to the antechamber on the left. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand, and I spun around with a spell ready in my mind. I sighed with relief when I saw Brande. I threw myself into his arms. “Are the others okay?”

  He gave me a tight squeeze. “I think so. The Black Dragon is still out there, weaving spells against us.”

  We turned back toward the main antechamber to see if we could reach the others, but a shimmering black smoke flew in our direction. Brande shoved me back through the corridor. “It’s poison!”

  We ran down the hall and slipped into a room to our left. We shut the door, and I began casting a ward. I prayed the Black Dragon didn’t decide to come charging through. When I was done warding the door, I turned around and put my back to the door. I slid to the floor with a sigh and glanced around the room. It looked like some type of preparatory area. A long table along the wall was adorned with ceremonial knives and tools, and racks of robes stood on the opposite side. An expensive burgundy carpet lined the floor, and a full-length mirror attached to a stand was in the center. It had a tarnished metal frame and looked to be very old.

  “Are you all right?” Brande knelt in front of me and caressed my left cheek.

  “Well, besides facing off with a demon and a Cruenti, and almost being barbequed by the Black Dragon, I think I’m doing swell.”

  He chuckled, and his gray eyes lit up. He observed me for a few moments, tilted my chin, and drew me into a kiss. I ran my hands up his muscular chest and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

  A glimmer of light from the other side of the room caught my attention. I reluctantly pulled away from the kiss. Brande turned and looked in the same direction I was looking in. “Is something wrong?”

  I shook my head. “It’s just...”

&nb
sp; The mirror in the center of the room glimmered again. Brande stood and helped me to my feet. I approached the mirror slowly, viewing my reflection, which began to swirl with light. After examining it for nearly a minute, I realized where I had seen something similar before. Just like several of the mirrors at Heathen Tower in Nuremberg, the one in front of me was a scrying mirror. These artifacts allowed its users to view people and places hundreds of miles away. Praskovya had once told me that Octavian had knowledge of things happening far away, or the ability to place curses on people not in his presence. This scrying mirror must’ve been how he’d accomplish those feats.

  The magic in the mirror must’ve picked up my thoughts, because the swirling light grew violent until Octavian’s face appeared, staring back at me. Could I find a way to detect his position from here? I stared at the image, my mind hazy from the connection with the mirror.

  Where is he? I sent the question from my mind, as soft as a whisper. My eyelids grew heavy, and I shook off the trance. I didn’t want to go scrying that deeply. In answer to my question, the mirror swirled again, causing the Cruenti Master’s countenance to break into bursts of color. I almost didn’t feel a firm hand on my shoulder, and spun around quickly, nearly hitting Brande in the face with Zaman’s Fire.

  He pulled back and raised his hands. “Is it safe to use that mirror? It almost had you in a trance.”

  “We...we should try looking for the others. We need to take care of the Black Dragon.” My head still swam from the scrying mirror.

  “Are you all right?”

  I nodded, once again fighting off the haziness in my mind. “We still haven’t found Octavian.”

  I swayed, and he caught me.

  “Brande...something’s wrong with this room. I think it drains people.”

  He pulled me in close, his lips brushing my skin, just beneath my jaw line. “You’re not well. Let me help you.”

  I inhaled his scent. It became too prickly, too sharp--too tainted. The hairs on the back of my neck stood again. Even through the haze, my senses were fighting to alert me. He looked like Brande. He sounded like him. However, his scent told me who he really was. He hadn’t bothered to penetrate my mind, probably relying on the latent magic in the room to disarm me, but I only had seconds before he realized that I knew he wasn’t Brande.