Blackveil (45 page)
“H
e does seem to like looking at walls.”
e does seem to like looking at walls.”
“You should have seen him last fall, staring at it all day long.”
Alton rolled his eyes wondering why he’d invited Dale and Estral along on this excursion if all they were going to do was make fun of him the whole time. Currently he faced the wall of Tower of the Earth, companion to Tower of the Heavens and the eight others that were part of the D’Yer Wall. He’d made contact with all the mages who, like Merdigen, existed in the towers, except for Haurris, who was responsible for Tower of the Earth. Even the other mages could not reach him, and though Alton tried, he could not gain entrance to the tower either. Merdigen said they’d have to assume the worst about Haurris.
What would be “the worst” for a noncorporeal projection of someone who lived a thousand years ago? Not existing at all, he supposed. He shrugged, for such questions entered a realm of philosophy he was in no mood to pursue at the moment.
He pressed his hand against the wall, feeling the cold, nubbly texture of the granite beneath his palm. The guardians of the wall sang their normal song and did not show any resistance to him, or any alarm for whatever was wrong with the tower, yet he could not enter. Dale had tried with similar results.
There weren’t even any cracks from the breach extending this far, although there was no way of knowing how things looked from the Blackveil side. All in all, there were no clues as to what was wrong with Tower of the Earth, or what had befallen Haurris. The only way to know was to somehow get inside.
“Hopefully he won’t kick the wall,” Dale said.
“He did that?” Estral asked.
“Oh, yes, and got broken toes for his trouble. Not to mention smashed knuckles from beating on it.”
Alton ground his teeth.
“Karigan never spoke of him having self-destructive tendencies,” Estral commented.
That’s it!
He whirled around. Dale and Estral sat on a blanket several paces off, looking rather languorous with legs stretched out as if they were on nothing more than a picnic. They had, in fact, broken into a loaf of nut bread and were steeping tea in a kettle over a small cookfire they’d started.
He whirled around. Dale and Estral sat on a blanket several paces off, looking rather languorous with legs stretched out as if they were on nothing more than a picnic. They had, in fact, broken into a loaf of nut bread and were steeping tea in a kettle over a small cookfire they’d started.
“I’m right here,” he said. “You don’t have to talk about me as if I’m not.”
Dale stuck her tongue out at him and Estral flashed him a disarming smile.
“It’s not easy to talk
to
you when you’ve always got your back turned to us,” Dale said.
to
you when you’ve always got your back turned to us,” Dale said.
“No matter how picturesque the view,” Estral added.
Alton’s cheeks warmed.
“Come have a seat.” Dale patted the blanket beside her. “Take a tea break.”
Alton flicked a glance over his shoulder at the wall and decided it wasn’t going anywhere. He joined the two women on the blanket, Dale pouring him a cup of tea and Estral carving him a slice of nut bread.
The tea warmed him up nicely, and it was a fine sunny day, if still on the cold side. Why not a picnic? Even the horses were contentedly cropping at any dormant grasses their agile lips could find, tails swishing at nonexistent flies. And here he was, being served by two attractive ladies. If not for the wall nearby, they could be in some artist’s bucolic scene.
“Did you really break your toes?” Estral asked him.
“
A
toe.” He’d been so angry and frustrated that the wall would not let him pass, that he could not fix it. And he’d been sick with the residue of Blackveil’s poison in his veins. Sick of heart, sick of mind, he’d battered his will and his body against the granite until blood flowed.
A
toe.” He’d been so angry and frustrated that the wall would not let him pass, that he could not fix it. And he’d been sick with the residue of Blackveil’s poison in his veins. Sick of heart, sick of mind, he’d battered his will and his body against the granite until blood flowed.
He’d lost all sense of himself during that time, allowing his appearance to go to ruin until Dale set him straight, reminding him he was still a Green Rider and that Captain Mapstone would disapprove of his bedraggled state. He’d once taken pride in his appearance and the sharpness of his uniform, and now the old Alton, in his opinion, was coming back. No one, not even Captain Mapstone, would be able to find fault in the shine of his boots. He kept his hair combed and his face clean-shaven. He’d found himself being even more meticulous of late, since ... since about the time Estral arrived. He choked on his nut bread and spilled scalding tea on his leg.
“Ow!”
“Here,” Estral said, dabbing at his thigh with a cloth.
He jumped at her touch near . . . a sensitive area. “Uh, it’s all right.” He took the cloth from her and dabbed the spill himself. So much for his perfect appearance.
“So what’s next?” Dale asked. “Neither of us can get into the tower. Are we just going to go back?”
“I don’t know. Maybe if the two of us try at the same time? If that doesn’t work, I guess I’ll have to go back and ask Merdigen if he has any more suggestions.”
“He didn’t seem very encouraging last time you asked him.”
“No,” Alton admitted. Merdigen had said the situation of Tower of the Earth was beyond his experience.
“Maybe the tower is fine,” Dale said. “I mean it looks fine from here. If it’s doing its job of holding back the forest—”
“It could be a weak point without Haurris in contact with the others. There’s just too much we don’t know.”
Estral scrunched her nose. “That’s not very interesting song fodder:
too much we don’t know.
”
too much we don’t know.
”
“I’m afraid life here at the wall is no ballad,” Alton said.
“So you’ve told me. But I am patient.”
“Well, I say let’s give it another try,” Dale said, hopping to her feet. “And if it doesn’t work, we’ll go back.”
Alton was forced to stuff the rest of his nut bread into his mouth, chewing and swallowing hastily.
“I guess I’ll just practice a little while I wait,” Estral said, reaching for the lute that she took everywhere with her.
Alton nodded, rose to his feet, and followed Dale. Behind him came the sound of strings being tuned. He may have protested Estral’s arrival at the wall at first, but her presence had done much to raise the morale of the personnel at both encampments. She was like a library of stories and music that ranged from centuries long past to pieces she and her fellow minstrels had created. She was also teaching the few musicians among them new songs, and in the process they honed their abilities.
As for himself, he’d found excuses to often be in her company, whether she was playing music or not.
By the time he and Dale reached the tower, Estral was strumming a warm-up piece and he remembered how effortlessly her fingers swept across the strings, her eyes so distant when she played, her face placid and unguarded.
Dale faced him. “You’ve been blushing a lot lately. And smiling, too.”
“Have not.” Alton immediately frowned to remove the smile from his face, but he couldn’t do anything about the blush.
“Have too,” Dale said with a grin, and pressed her hand against the tower wall.
Alton cleared his throat. It galled him he’d been so transparent. Best to let it go, however. Yes. Let it go and concentrate on the task before him. He hadn’t the slightest confidence that the two of them together would get inside the tower anymore than just one of them had, but it was worth a try. He placed his hand against the wall, passing his other over his Rider brooch.
Nothing.
Just the harmony of the wall guardians humming against his palm and up his arm.
Actually, now that he thought about it, they felt stronger, brighter. Almost ... cheerful.
“Do you feel that?” he asked Dale.
“Feel what?”
Estral started singing, her voice so quiet Alton could not make out the words.
The vibration of the guardians’ own song intensified.
“I felt
that,
” Dale said.
that,
” Dale said.
“I wonder . . .” Abruptly Alton left the wall and strode back to Estral. She stopped playing and gazed up at him. “Do you think you could try something? Can you do something with this tune?” He hummed the melody of the wall guardians.
Estral started humming with him and picked out single notes on her lute.
“Yes,” Alton said.
“It’s a strange tune,” Estral said. “Very rhythmic.”
“Do you think you could keep playing it? Humming it?”
Estral cocked an eyebrow, but proceeded to pick out the tune, then filled in with full chords and hummed the melody. It was eerie. Alton had heard it often enough from the wall guardians singing in his mind, but to hear it externally with Estral’s beautiful voice was very strange.
He turned to rejoin Dale at the tower, but she was gone.
TOWER OF THE EARTH
“D
ale!” Alton ran at the tower, slapped palms against stone, but he could not enter. He tensed, clenched his fists, ready to throw himself at the wall, but stopped himself and stood there trembling, remembering his madness of last fall. After a moment, he realized Estral had stopped playing. He touched the wall. It did not resonate as much as before.
ale!” Alton ran at the tower, slapped palms against stone, but he could not enter. He tensed, clenched his fists, ready to throw himself at the wall, but stopped himself and stood there trembling, remembering his madness of last fall. After a moment, he realized Estral had stopped playing. He touched the wall. It did not resonate as much as before.
“Play!” he shouted at her. “Play and don’t stop, no matter what!”
Surprise flitted across Estral’s face, but she did not hesitate. Her music drifted to Alton and he concentrated on rhythm and harmony—hummed it in his mind, and it vibrated through him. The wall swallowed him.
When he emerged into the tower, Dale grabbed him before he could take another step. She was backed up against the wall.
“Don’t move.” Her voice was harsh and her face pale in the sickly green light that illuminated the tower. Her shoulder was smoking, a patch of uniform singed.
“Dale?”
“I’m all right,” she replied. “Just—just don’t move.”
Alton glanced around the chamber seeking whatever danger had attacked her. In a glance he took in the blackened, scorched walls, the cobwebs that draped from the shadowed heights waving in the air currents like restless specters. Whatever furnishings had once existed in the tower were now jumbles of wood. In the center of the chamber, the columns that surrounded the tempes stone on its pedestal were scorched and cracked, entire chunks missing from their fluted facades. One had toppled and was nothing more than rubble. The tempes stone itself looked like a lump of coal.
And there, in the circle of columns was a skeleton in a pile of rags, a bony arm stretched out as if reaching, reaching for the tempes stone.
“Gods,” Alton murmured. “It looks like there’s been a war in here.”
“There’s something else,” Dale said, her eyes darting toward the shadowed recesses above. “Something bad. In here with us.”
“What?” He’d shifted his body just the slightest bit and lightning streaked through the tower from top to bottom so bright it left a white-green afterhaze in his vision.
“Duck!” Dale cried, and she hauled him to the floor just in time as the lightning forked and struck where Alton had just stood.
“Gods,” he murmured.
“Told you not to move.”
“I see why.”
Something then caught the edge of Alton’s vision, a flicker of shadow. Something in the tower’s upper regions. The hair on the back of his neck stood.
More lightning exploded, this time high up, spreading like fiery lace, and he saw
it,
the shadow thing flitting through the air to the opposite wall. It was spindly, vaguely human in form. A tendril of lightning stabbed at one of its limbs and its cry was unearthly, terrible.
it,
the shadow thing flitting through the air to the opposite wall. It was spindly, vaguely human in form. A tendril of lightning stabbed at one of its limbs and its cry was unearthly, terrible.
Dale covered her ears. “What is it?”
“I don’t know.” Alton stared up into the dark, but nothing moved. The shaft of the tower seemed to suck all the air upward. The silence was dense, oppressive, filled his ears. He broke out in a clammy sweat.
Moments crawled like hours. He detected a whisper of movement, like a shadow caressing his mind, subtle, close. Too close.
Lightning ripped through the chamber again just above their heads, so near Alton felt its heat. The creature hissed and scuttled away. Silence.
“We need to get out of here,” Dale whispered.
Alton agreed. He hoped Estral had listened to him and continued to play her music. He called upon his special ability and wrapped an invisible shield of protection around them both. “Now!” he yelled. He grabbed Dale and heaved her through the wall, following right behind her, just as lightning blasted his footprints.
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