The White Tower (The Aldoran Chronicles: Book 1) Page 6

  Taking Ferrin’s transferal crystal had been the second order of business the Black Watch had completed upon his arrest, right after attaching a durma collar to his neck to cut off the flow of magic stemming from the small clear gem. Ferrin had never really understood how the little crystal was capable of allowing him to manipulate metal ore, or why when other people touched it, they were unable to do the same. He simply took it all in stride, never worrying over questions he could do nothing about.

  Leaning forward, the tattooed inquisitor slid the tip of his twisted instrument down the front of Rae’s shirt, tugging lasciviously at her top button. He smiled as he withdrew a small crystal that swung like a pendulum on the end of a sweat-tarnished chain.

  Ferrin recognized it immediately.

  He had been given one of those rocks as a child after his own magic had become apparent. After his parents had died, his uncle, not wanting the fear of magic under his roof, or the wrath of the White Tower brought down on their heads, sold Ferrin to a traveling peddler named Pinon. It was the peddler who had given Ferrin his first transferal and explained that what Ferrin possessed was not a curse, but a gift. He had been warned to keep it hidden, especially with the White Tower escalating its search for wielders.

  Obviously that hadn’t worked too well for him.

  “Yes, she has quite a useful gift,” the inquisitor continued. “I would tell you all about it, but . . .” Cheeks leaned in. His warm breath wreaked of garlic and rotten meat. Ferrin had to swallow against the bile rising in the back of his throat. “It would be so much more fun to show you.” And with that, the inquisitor lifted the curved instrument and punched it straight through Ferrin’s stomach, ramming it all the way to the hilt.

  “Ahhh!” Ferrin’s head flew backwards, his neck wrenching under the weight of its force as it bounced off the metal bars of the rack’s bed. Sweat broke out across his forehead and spittle flew from his mouth. Gasping for breath, he concentrated on nothing, everything, anything but what the inquisitor wanted—names. He must protect his sister. He must protect Myriah.

  He could feel the inquisitor twisting his new instrument deep inside. He had never felt such pain before. In the back of his mind, he could hear Cheeks’ voice, “Who are the wielders in your city? Do you have any family? Are you ready to join the White Tower?”

  Nausea swept over him like a tidal wave and he emptied what little remained in his stomach across his bare chest. Looking downward, he could see his blood bubbling out from around the wiggler as the instrument was slowly excised from his stomach. Wrapped around the twisted poker was a snaking of his intestine. Cheeks chortled with perverse pleasure. Ferrin could tell by the look in the inquisitor’s eyes that his suffering was taking the sadist to an even greater sense of elation.

  Everything faded. Sounds became muffled. His heartbeat was deafening. The pain was beyond what he could bear. Ferrin could feel his body begin to convulse and then everything went black. There was silence, and at last, it was finally over.

  Or, at least, he thought it was.

  Ferrin’s eyes burst open and his mouth split wide as he inhaled a torrent of life-sustaining air. His eyes darted around the room but everything was enveloped in a thick haze. Sights, sounds, even his sense of smell was muffled and muted as he tried reasoning out what had just happened. He felt nothing, and the only thought that lingered was, I must be dead.

  Cheeks’ pale face suddenly popped into view. “Ah, there you are. Almost lost you,” he chuckled.

  Ferrin’s shoulders sank in despair. “Wha . . . What happened?” His voice was barely audible as he twisted his head around to where the inquisitor stood watching.

  Without warning, all the pain and agony he had suffered from his previous cuttings came flooding back. It was overwhelming.

  “Quite the rush, isn’t it?” The inquisitor evidently had been waiting for Ferrin’s senses to catch up.

  Even through the pain, Ferrin felt something soft and cool slide across his chest. He tilted his head. Rae had the palm of her small hand pressed against the open wound from Cheeks’ stone blade. Her eyes were closed in concentration. Ferrin found himself caught in a confusing mix of emotions. He knew he should be screaming out in pain, but, at present, the only sensation he seemed to be holding on to was more intimate in nature.

  The look in the Inquisitor’s eyes as he studied Ferrin, no doubt trying to determine where next to hurt him, should have overwhelmed Ferrin with fear, but as long as Rae’s gentle touch caressed his skin, he could think of nothing else.

  “What is she doing?”

  “Wait for it,” Cheeks said with a smile.

  “Wait for wha—” A freezing sensation washed across Ferrin’s upper torso, and he gasped in shock. He had been completely unprepared for such a contrasting sensation. It was like hot and cold, night and day, two opposites colliding. He felt it burn, but at the same time it was soothing.

  Looking down, he noticed a soft lavender glow had enveloped her hands. The light spread into the muscles and tissue of his upper chest. He watched in wonder as the sinew knitted itself back together.

  The pain that had threatened to overwhelm him moments ago subsided to a dull ache. Much like the use of laudanum or cannabis, it left his whole body with a raw sense of euphoria. It was the most amazing feeling he had ever encountered. Her hands felt cool to the touch and left him at the point of almost being willing to go back under the inquisitor’s knife just to feel her magic once more.

  Watching as she removed her now bloody hands from his chest, Ferrin noticed his skin had been completely resealed, leaving only the smallest of markings behind. Glancing at his side, the damage caused by the wiggler had also been healed.

  He looked up and into the little healer’s pale green eyes. He was about to thank her when her legs buckled and she collapsed to the floor.

  “Oh, for pity sake!” Cheeks wiped the remaining blood from the twisted poker. He took great care to make sure each tool was properly cleaned before placing them in their correct pouch within his satchel. He obviously cared more for his tools than he did for his help, Ferrin mused, glancing at Rae’s unkempt condition on the cold stone.

  Finishing up with his tools, the inquisitor waddled across the small room. He opened the door and called to one of the white-cloaked members of the Black Watch. “Take Rae back to her chambers and see that she gets something to eat. Can’t have her dying on us, now can we?” Ferrin watched as a guard threw her limp body over his shoulder and carried her off. “Just think of all the fun I would miss out on if our detainees expired every time they received a little prodding.”

  Waddling back to his table, Cheeks rolled his leather satchel back into place and tied off the bounding straps. “Guess we are through for today, my dear smith. How did you find my new device? And be honest now. Did it live up to its name?”

  Ferrin scoffed. His brown eyes burned red-hot as he held the inquisitor’s gaze. “Why don’t you release me and I’ll show you.”

  The rolls of Cheeks’ midriff bounced with his laughter, his hands held firmly to his waist for support. “I do so enjoy our time together, smith. More than any other, I dare say.” He started for the entrance but called over his shoulder, “You’ll make sure to get plenty of rest, won’t you? I want you good and ready for our next session.”

  And with that he was gone.

  Stretching his neck, Ferrin wiped the blood from his mouth on his bare shoulder while waiting for the Tower guards to arrive and take him back to his cell. He took a deep breath and let it exhale slowly from his lips. I’m definitely wearing them down.

  Ferrin chuckled to himself with a morose sense of amusement that teetered dangerously close to the edge of insanity as he listened to the growing sound of heeled boots.

  Chapter 6 | Ty

  ROUNDING THE LAST BEND, Ty could see his family’s cottage ahead, tucked away rather cozily on the outskirts of the Sidaran Forest where his father was stationed as the overlord’s official gamekeeper and
forester.

  Their home was quite spacious for the average wood folk. It had three bedrooms, an indoor washroom, and a separate kitchen off the main room. The walls were framed with a crosshatch of cedar planking and river stone while the dense thatch roofing was all but unseen by the onslaught of greenery crawling its way across the top. The cottage gave the appearance of having grown right out of the forest itself.

  “Breen, slow down! It’s not like the Black Watch are coming over for dinner.” Ty scrunched his face as he jerked his arm back from where his brother was attempting to rush him along.

  “Hurry up. Father's going to want to know what just happened.”

  “Why? What’s he going to do? Other than lock us in our rooms until they’re gone.” Ty groaned. The thought of being cooped up in the house for an extended period of time was excuse enough not to tell their father.

  Ty followed his older brother up the stone path, ending at a covered circular archway outside the front door. He watched as Breen quietly flipped back the latch and counted to three before throwing open the door. His brother released a deep growl, startling their sister, Adarra, in the process. Breen always got some kind of perverse pleasure in watching her yelp. Ty had to admit, he rather enjoyed it himself.

  Adarra, only a couple of years older than Ty, stiffened in her seat as her head jerked up from where she was reading another one of the large volumes she always seemed to have on hand.

  “Breen! You did that on purpose!”

  “Who me?” Breen put on a sarcastic face. “Never.” Ty chuckled at the playful banter between his siblings.

  Adarra strained to hold her scowl, but when confronted with a look of such sweet innocence as what was reflected in Breen’s face, she couldn’t hold it long. Giggling, she shook her hand and swept aside a loose strand of chestnut hair, revealing a light dusting of freckles across both cheeks.

  “I was beginning to worry,” came a soft voice from the kitchen as their mother, Nilla, stepped into the room, waving her dipping spoon in their direction. “Supper will be ready shortly.” Ty’s mother was a short woman with a kind face wrapped in the same straight, chestnut hair as Adarra, interspersed with a few lines of gray. She had always said that Ty had been the one to give them to her.

  Ty closed the door as Breen unstrung his bow and laid it in the corner. “Sorry about that,” his brother said. “We ran into a little trouble on the road.”

  “What kind of trouble?” Ty’s father, Kellen, looked up from his seat by the fire as he continued digging into the side of a small chunk of wood with his knife. As always, he chewed on the stem of his long pipe as he concentrated on the wood. “Not more poachers, I hope?”

  Ty walked across the room and sat in the rocker beside his sister.

  “They were poachers alright,” Breen said as he plopped down on the wooden bench in front of the small bay windows and struggled to find a comfortable position, “poachers of the Black Watch variety.”

  His father’s hand faltered with the knife. Ty heard a deep intake of breath come from the direction of the kitchen. Even Adarra lowered her book. There was more to this than he knew.

  His father leaned forward in his seat. “The Black Watch, here?”

  “Creator help us,” Ty’s mother said as she moved further into the main room.

  “Yes,” Breen said. “And it gets worse.”

  “Worse?” His father spared a troubled glance at Ty. “How could it get much worse?”

  Breen took a deep breath. “They have that healer with them . . . Saleena.”

  “Bog Toads!” His father jumped to his feet, startling Ty out of his deliberations. Kellen was a big man, and like Ty’s brother, towered over him. “I told that foolish girl to stay put. I knew when I went back for her and she was gone that she was going to get herself captured again.”

  Now Ty was really confused. What were they talking about?

  His father’s eyes widened as he pulled his pipe from his mouth and pointed it at Breen. “Did they have a sniffer?”

  Ty fidgeted with the front of his light brown jacket. A sniffer? He rubbed the back of his hand across his forehead to clear a fallen strand of blond hair from his eyes. He had no idea what was going on. What was a sniffer? He was growing more addled by the moment.

  “No, just the Tower’s guards. They said they found her east of Reed Marsh.”

  His father leaned one large elbow against the stone hearth and scratched at the side of his head where the streaks of gray were most prevalent. “She must’ve gotten nervous and tried making a run for it.”

  “Foolish woman.” Ty’s mother shook her head, swinging her ladle around the way she used to when threatening one of them with a good spanking. “If she would have just listened, we could have found her a safe place to relocate.”

  “They asked for directions to Easthaven,” Breen continued. “They said they were looking for other wielders.”

  A glimmer of hope registered in his father’s eyes as his fingers traced the edges of his groomed beard. “Good. My guess is they will search the city and surrounding community before making their trek back to the Tower. That might give us a few days to do something about Saleena.”

  Ty couldn’t take it any longer as he hopped to his feet. “What is going on?” His arms lifted from his sides, adding a measure of frustrated urgency to his words. “Who’s Saleena and how do you all know her? And what’s a sniffer?” His eyes shot from one face to another, waiting for an answer.

  His parents shared a hesitant look.

  Ty’s mother shrugged. “He’s sixteen. I’d say he’s old enough.”

  “Old enough for what?” Ty asked. “Will somebody please tell me what is going on around here?”

  His father seemingly ignored Ty’s outburst. “Nilla, can you get my bag ready?”

  “On my way, dear.” Ty’s mother headed for the kitchen. Halfway there, she called back over her shoulder. “Adarra, how about giving your mother a hand?”

  His father spun around. “Breen, I need you to saddle my horse.”

  “You want me to come with you?”

  “No. You keep your plans and go to Performance Night. No need to draw any undue suspicions by not showing up. I’m going to work my way around town and see if I can’t get a feel for what our guests are up to before relaying any news to the council. Hopefully, we can determine a course of action that won’t put our entire community in jeopardy.”

  With that said, Breen left, shutting the front door behind him and leaving Ty rocking anxiously from one foot to the other.

  His father finally retook his seat and motioned for Ty to join him. A feeling of anticipation swept over Ty as he sat on the bench his brother had previously occupied. It was still warm.

  There was a spark of fear behind his father’s sharp emerald eyes. Eyes, much like his brother’s, reminding Ty of how different he was. Ty’s eyes, while just as bright, were sapphire blue. He knew he wasn’t their real son. They had told him as much once he had reached an age where those differences had been recognized. However, when asked, the answer was always the same—they didn’t know who his birth parents were.

  Ty used to daydream that he was the long lost heir of a wealthy nobleman, and that he had been kidnapped by a band of marauding gypsies and sold on the black market for food, which was loads more exciting than the truth—that he had been dropped off by a kindly old gentleman who had found him in the woods.

  Having resigned himself to the fact that he would more than likely never discover who had given him birth, Ty didn’t press the matter further. He soon came to realize that he didn’t care who his birth parents were. This was his real family and they were all that mattered.

  “Ty.” His father favored him with a careful gaze, judging his words before he spoke. “What I’m about to tell you is very dangerous. It’s a secret known only to a few. And there are a great many lives depending on it remaining so.” His father waited, regarding him with a serious look. “Do you understand what
I’m saying to you?”

  “Yes sir.” Ty nodded.

  “Like your brother and sister before you, we were going to wait until we felt you were old enough before revealing what I’m about to share with you. In fact, your sister was nearly seventeen before we told her.” Ty’s father waved his hand. “But that’s beside the point. The White Tower’s reach is clearly spreading, evident by what you’ve told us already. And waiting any longer could prove even more dangerous.”

  “Why would our family be in danger? We don’t have anything to do with the White Tower.” Ty was getting nervous. He wondered if his parents already knew of his ability to communicate with animals. Would the White Tower come after him if they knew? He couldn’t understand why they would. It wasn’t like he was anything special. How dangerous could it be to talk with a group of tree rats and forest conies?

  His father took a deep breath. “Our family is part of a secret group that helps to hide wielders from the White Tower.”

  Ty’s mouth opened slightly. That was clearly not what he had been expecting. His father paused as if to judge Ty’s reaction before continuing. “Easthaven, like a lot of other larger cities across Aldor, has places of refuge for magic wielders. We call them Harbor Houses. What you have to understand, though, is that most of these wielders haven’t done anything wrong. They are no more dangerous than you or me. But, because they were born with a special gift, or, like Saleena, have been spotted using a new kind of herb to heal what other physickers cannot, they get branded as ven’ae and are rounded up by the Black Watch.”

  Ty leaned forward in his seat. “What happens to them?”