The Staff of the Winds (The Wizard of South Corner Book 1) (11 page)

They kept to the side closest to the tower, and crouching moved down the gully as silently as possible. The moon was approaching the West Wall putting the bottom of the gully into deep shadow, but still allowing them enough light to avoid the scattered thorn bushes and rocks jutting out of the sand. Occasionally, they would get brief glimpses of the top of the tower, silhouetted against the star-filled sky through a tangle of thorns, but most of their progress was made without any reference points outside of the gully. Marian collected a few stones as they went along that were just the right size and shape for her sling. These she kept in a leather pouch at her belt.

Half way to the tower, Owen startled a covey of quail that burst out of the bushes before him and flew down the valley. The noise of their rising sounded like thunder compared to the surrounding silence, and they froze in place for a long moment, straining to hear any reaction from the lookouts ahead. After a long pause, during which all they could hear was the hammering of their hearts, Owen slowly and tentatively resumed his movement forward.

As they approached the tower, it became visible more often through the tangle of leafless bushes above them, and Owen crouched lower and slowed their pace even more. As the gully became shallower, they began to crawl forward, trying to use the bushes for cover as much as possible. They still could not be seen from the base of the tower, but from its top, they were occasionally dependent upon the deep shadows to conceal them from a watcher who might just happen to be looking in the right direction.

Finally, as the gully petered out, Owen signaled a halt, and they silently crawled in under the bushes as tightly as they could. Marian caught a curse before it left her lips, and raised her left thumb to her mouth to suck on a wound from a Devil’s Thorn. The lip of the moon was barely above the mountains, and had moved far enough around the tower to provide a little light of the area where the gorn had camped. Owen could just make out two dark shapes near the base of the tower, which stood about 60 paces away. Their campfire had gone out.

Huddled against the cold of the clear autumn sky, the trio waited for sufficient light to accurately mark their targets.  In the east, the sky was just beginning to lighten.

As the light slowly grew with the coming dawn, Owen could gradually begin to see the gorn more clearly.  One of them was using a thin tattered blanket, while the other slept without any covering. ‘
This must be mild conditions, compared to their mountain home,’
Owen thought, shivering.

When he thought that there was just enough light to make an accurate shot, Owen pulled his comrades together and whispered in their ears.  “I can’t get a killing shot while they’re huddled on the ground.  Marian, when I’m ready, use your sling to wake the gorn closest to us.  Don’t be gentle, and afterward keep your eyes on the tower.  Jack, you back up my shot, but hold your arrow for the further gorn in case they both wake at once.”

The boys carefully eased their way out from under the bushes, trying to avoid catching their cloaks in the thorns, and keeping one eye on the top of the tower.

Owen left his staff lying at his feet, took a solid stance, and took his bow off of his shoulder.  He carefully placed two broad headed arrows in easy reach sticking up in the sand at his feet, and nocked a third. Jack took a similar position to his right. Silently, Owen drew the bowstring to his cheek. He took a deep relaxing breath and nodded to Marian.

Marian had prepared her sling with a heavy stone, and at Owen’s signal she swung it twice around her head and let fly. It sped across the distance and hit the gorn hard on the hip. Startled, he sat up with a curse, and immediately spotted his attackers.

The gorn seemed to have no neck, but above the center of the ribcage, where a neck should be, there was a shallow indentation; Owen marked this as his target. Completely relaxed, Owen allowed the arrow to release. Almost no time had elapsed since the gorn had risen, but with his drawing of the arrow and selection of the target, time stopped being a factor. Owen was easily able to follow the flight of the arrow despite the dim light as it cleaved the air and settled deeply with a hollow thunk precisely where it was intended.  The gorn crashed back, thrashed and gurgled on the ground for a moment, then lay still.

The second gorn rose right behind his partner, snatched up a huge club, and was charging the boys by the time the first gorn hit the ground. Jack was surprised at the speed of the onrushing gorn, but managed to place a cloth yard of heavy shaft in the gorn’s chest, just right of center. The gorn faltered for a moment, then with a bellow resumed his rush.

Surprised that the gorn had not fallen, both Owen and Jack reached quickly for their second arrow. Owen was a heartbeat ahead, drew and sent his shaft right through the gorn’s left eye. The gorn crumpled and collapsed, sliding on the ground a mere eleven paces from where Owen stood.

Just then, Marian shouted: “Top of the tower!” and let fly with a second stone that she had been swinging.

Jack pulled his bow up and around, and snapped a shot at the head of a gorn who was leaning over and looking down at them from between the crenellation at the top of the tower.  The gorn jerked back out of sight, and both rock and arrow skipped off of the stone near where his head had been.

“Come on!” yelled Owen, and grabbing his staff he raced around the tower to the south side to cover the exit.

The boys stared at the open doorway, arrows half drawn, but the opening just stared back at them dark and silent.

“We’re going to have to go in after him,” Owen said, reluctantly. “He may have some means to signal for reinforcements. We can’t let that happen.”

Owen took off his quiver and handed it to Marian. “Take my bow, and if he comes out that door, kill him. Don’t let him get past you, if he raises the alarm we’ll have the whole army after us.

“Jack, shall we enter the great-cat’s den?”

Jack took a deep breath, put down his bow and pulled out his knife.  “Let’s go.”

Owen led the way up the narrow stairs, while Marian covered the door and the battlement overhead with Owen’s bow. Owen held his staff ready for a thrust and parry, hoping that no attack would come until he was in a place with better footing. When he reached the door, he peaked quickly inside and pulled back again.

The door opened into a large round room that took up the full base of the tower. There were no windows or arrow slits at this level, and there was still not much light coming in through the open door. Owen couldn’t be sure, but he did not think that the gorn was on this level. With a rush, Owen went through the door, with Jack close behind. He quickly braced himself on the sticky floor, ready for an attack, but there was only silence.

Owen’s eyes were adjusting slowly to the dim interior, and his headache seemed to be receding.  Looking quickly around, he saw only some trash on the floor at one side and an enclosed staircase spiraling up the opposite side.  There was no sign of the gorn, but there was a strong, putrid smell in the air that reminded Owen of a hog butchering that had gone bad.

Owen motioned Jack to stay behind him and to his left, and he silently eased over to the base of the stairs. The stairs were made of heavy oak planks with stone walls on each side. Wide enough to swing a sword, they opened up dark and empty before him, spiraling up out of sight to the roof and battlements above. Somewhat protected from the elements, they appeared to be solid. Slowly, and as quietly as possible, Owen began to climb, the end of his staff held before him. Occasional arrow slits provided some light at intervals along the way.

About half way up, Owen stepped on a plank that let out a deep creaking groan.  Suddenly, in a rush, the gorn came into view from above.  He held a large iron club high in the air, and was already bringing it down towards Owen’s head. Startled, Owen fell back, grounding the butt of his staff on the step below to try to catch his balance. The gorn in his rush caught the end of the staff in his sternum, and as Owen continued to fall, the gorn’s forward momentum vaulted him on the end of the staff over Owen and down the stairs. Jack was just able to dodge against the inner stonewall and avoid the clutching grasp of the gorn as it sailed by.

Owen slid painfully on his back down several stairs before he could regain control. The gorn had landed heavily with a crash on the stairs below.

Jack, after checking on Owen, bounded down the stairs with his knife ready, to find the gorn already rising to his feet. He had transferred his club to his left hand; his right shoulder appeared to be broken, and that arm dangled at his side. Jack had the high ground, and the gorn was only able to jab awkwardly with the heavy club, as he gave ground down the stairs. Owen soon regained his footing, and limping slightly from a bruise on his hip joined the attack.

Working together, the boys were able to continue to force the gorn back down the stairs a step at a time and into the open room at the base; then they spread apart.  The gorn was gradually forced back against the far wall, where he stumbled against something on the floor.  As he stumbled, he dropped his guard with his club, and Owen made a mighty thrust of his staff to the gorn’s face just below the ridge bone between the eyes.  The gorn collapsed, and Jack leapt in and thrust his knife through the gorn’s eye and up into its brain.

Exhausted by the fear and the effort, Jack and Owen leaned against the wall panting until their limbs stopped trembling and they were able to regain their breath. Finally, Owen whispered, “We’d better make sure that there are no more,” and fearfully he once again cautiously approached the stairs.

The climb this time was uneventful, although Owen flinched when he hit that same squeaky step, and soon the boys reached the top and looked out over the surrounding countryside. The sun was just climbing into the sky, the air was clear and they could see for leagues in all directions. Owen decided that he had been right that they could not have bypassed this tower safely. On the horizon to the west, they could just make out a faint wisp of smoke rising from the camp of those they pursued. Other than that, there was no sign of their enemies in any direction.

Owen leaned over the side and called down to Marian that all was clear.  Although reluctant to leave the growing light of day to re-enter the dark tower, the boys decided that they had better get back to their horses and resume the chase.

Owen’s eyes once again had to adjust to the dark stairway, but the light coming in from the arrow slits was brighter now, and by the time they reached the bottom, they were able to see the large room at the base much more clearly with the added light through the open doorway.

Something about the lump near the wall that they had noticed before caught Owen’s attention, and he went over to investigate.  Suddenly Owen realized what they were looking at, and ran to the doorway to vomit outside.

“What happened?” Marian asked, startled.

“Don’t come in,” Owen managed to say with a gasp. “We’ll be out in a minute. Get me that gorn’s blanket, please.”

When Marian brought it, Owen took it from her and went back inside.  Jack was still standing there staring, his face deathly white.  On the floor next to the gorn was the body of a woman.  Carefully, Owen spread the blanket on top of the pool of blood that was on the floor next to her, and rolled the body onto it.  The body was badly beaten and disfigured, sliced and burned in many places, and judging by the amount and the pattern of the blood on the floor, she must have been alive for a long time.  A large chunk of flesh had been carved from the inside of her left thigh, down to the bone, and was nowhere to be seen.  Her face was badly bruised, and her cheek bones had been broken, so Owen could not tell who she had been, but he did notice with a pang of guilty relief that her hair was blond.  It was not Sarah.

Near the wall, Owen spotted a piece of cloth that must have been the woman’s shift, torn and ripped from her body. He tucked it around her as best he could, then Jack helped him roll her up in the tattered blanket. Owen hated to use this rough cloth that smelled so strongly of the gorn who had owned it to cover the woman’s body, but it was all they had. They would bury her in the trees so that the gorn or a wolf would not dig her up. ‘
The carrion eaters are welcome to the dead gorn
,’ Owen thought, angrily ‘
if they can stomach the taste
.’

Chapter 4

The Baraduhne

Yeva knelt with her forehead pressed to the polished marble floor.  While in the presence of the Great Sorcerer and High Lord Adham al Dharr, she was expected to hear and to see nothing.  As bodyguard to Master Kadeen, Sorcerer and First Counselor to the High Lord, she was trained to hear and to see everything, and she never forgot her training.  Her eyes never moved, never left the marble floor, but the marble was highly polished, and in the reflection of the floor, she could clearly see the nearby silver lamp stand, and in the reflection of the lamp stand, she had a panoramic view of the entire room.  She could see her master at the other end of the long audience chamber standing at the foot of the raised dais that held the gilded throne of the High Lord.  Lord Adham al Dharr was standing in front of his throne looking down upon his Chief Counselor. In proportion to the High Lord, Councilor Kadeen was short and slight of build, making him appear almost childlike in his long dark robes, standing below the dais.