The Silver Tower by Everet Martins

Author:Everet Martins [Martins, Everet]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-07-19T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

The Killer

“The secret to a productive life was to act more and think less.” -The Diaries of Baylan Spear

The moon burned with the white of a flag of surrender, dimly illuminating the empty practice yard. The great trees leaning over the parapet surrounding the grounds of the House of Arms cast dancing shadows along the cool sand. An owl hooted in the surrounding forest and the leaves rustled with the cold wind.

The Silver Tower was a menacing vision in the evening, a bright beacon of light tearing a path in the dark sky from the tallest spire. Blue light pulsed like veins up and down the tower, glowing like the light of hope in land swashed in fear. It seemed to hum with power when he was close to it, like it was where the heart of the god’s essences lay, waiting to be unleashed.

Walter’s toes dug into the sand and his hands wound into fists, cool air tunneling through his nostrils. Baylan stood ten paces away, a sharp rock hovering in the air beside his bald head. His face looked like a corpse, deep shadows lining the hollow of his cheeks and painting his eye sockets black. The lack of hair didn’t give him a very friendly appearance, more like that of an old mercenary or soldier that had tasted too much drink.

Baylan thrust his stump at him and along with it came the rock, a blur in the dark, headed straight for his skull. Walter squinted, preparing for the explosion of light that tore through the dark, illuminating the walls with the blue glow of the Phoenix. The rock bounced harmlessly to the ground on the other side of the translucent shield. He let the shield go with a breath.

“Not bad, but you’re thinking too much. This power is like blinking a new eye. You’re thinking about the eye and then blinking. Just blink. The second of difference could mean the difference between life and death if that were a blade,” Baylan said, crossing his arms over his hollow chest.

Just like blinking a new eye, as if that were a thing that happened on occasion. Baylan surely knew more about this than he did. It had to make sense eventually, right? Walter had managed to conjure a Phoenix shield before in a pinch, but it was a tremendous effort. Baylan said it had to become as natural as breathing. The Dragon came naturally to him. It was always there, bubbling at the surface of his mind, seeking a way to relieve its incredible force.

“Ready?” Baylan said with a nod.

Something bit hard into his gut, causing him to double over, his eyes watering, seeing the same damn rock rolling across the sand. “I wasn’t ready,” he said through gritted teeth, pain coursing up into his back.

“You think the Death Spawn will wait until you’re ready then?” Baylan said, starting to pace around him. “What about The Wretched? Asebor?”

“Why even ask—” Walter cut off as the rock lurched from the ground, catching him under the chin, smashing his head back.

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