The Obsidian Tower

By Rebecca Shelley

To save his sister, a desperate knight murders his king and frees the demons from hell.  While the demons ravage the country, the orphaned son of the high priest must team up with the dead king's cousin to defeat them. But the two heroes' loathing for each other is only outstripped by their desire for power. While the priest falls to the demons' embrace, the king's cousin struggles with the knowledge that the kingdom he risks his life to save will be ruled by someone else.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rebecca Shelley
• Release date: Jun 15, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386125525

Rebecca Shelley

Rebecca Shelley writes a wide variety of books—everything from picture books to spy thrillers.She especially likes to write about fantasy creatures such as dragons and fairies.Her children’s books are written under the Rebecca Shelley name.Her thrillers and other books for adults are written under the R. L. Tyler pen name.She also has two books out under the R. D. Henham pen name—Red Dragon Codex and Brass Dragon Codex.

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The Obsidian Tower

Copyright © 2012 Rebecca Shelley

Published by Wonder Realms Books

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any print or electronic form without permission.

All characters, places, and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual places or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cover art © Maxim Evdokimov | Dreamstime.com

Interior art © Irina Shishkina | Dreamstime.com

Prologue

The Fallen

The Shridol swept around Dergoth, glowing in the night's darkness. Their fiery bodies reflected off his breastplate, heating the chain mail on his arms until it bit into his skin through the padded shirt.

Men on the palace walls in front of him screamed as the Shridol came upon them. Some tried to fight these demons, and the Shridol shredded them against the stone battlements. Others ran and ended with the same fate as those who fought. Their cries echoed up from the courtyard beyond the palace walls.

Some men, the smart ones, lowered their weapons and allowed the Shridol to take possession of their bodies. Once the Shridol passed inside them, their eyes burned with a red glow. These possessed men opened the palace gates. Dergoth shuddered and advanced into the courtyard with the rest of the Zidonian army.

Amen-Luz, the capital of Feilia, was now theirs—taken without a fight. The Feilian king, the one man who could have stopped the Shridol, lay dead on the battlefield far to the east, killed by one of his own guard.

Dergoth had not taken time to wipe the king's blood from his blade before spurring his horse to the safety of the Zidonian army. Still, Terasius, The Captain of the King's Guard, had almost caught him.

By the fires, I wish he had, Dergoth muttered as he watched the Zidonians drag the priests and priestesses from the marble temple of Feil Luz that dominated the courtyard. There were only a dozen priests left here. The others had been killed on the battlefield where they worked to heal the wounded.

The servants of Feil Luz pleaded for mercy and received none. Dergoth looked away, keeping his eyes on the dancing light the Shridol cast along the palace walls. He gritted his teeth against the sound of swords cleaving through flesh and bone, and the smell of blood mixing with the sulfury scent of the Shridol.

When the last echo of despair reverberated between the courtyard walls and dissipated into the night, Dergoth faced the carnage. A line of corpses lay on the ground. Blood seeped along the priests' gold-trimmed robes, darkening the white cloth.

Only one priest remained standing. Dergoth recognized him but could not remember his name.

Why am I spared? The priest's voice wavered. He allowed his enemies to bind his hands without a fight. Not surprising. Any of these priests would choose death over taking the life of another man.

The Zidonian who tied the priest's hands pushed him across the courtyard toward the palace. You'll wish you had died with the others soon enough. The great Zidokar, Lord of the Shridol, will have you as sacrifice—payment for his help.

No. The priest dropped his voice to a whisper as if he knew his protest would go unheaded.

They passed Dergoth on the way into the palace, and the priest spun back to stand in front of him.

You, the priest said, you betrayed us?

The accusation knifed into Dergoth's heart. I killed the king. He forced the words past the knot in his throat. The confession wouldn't save him. He had no hope of that, but he couldn't bring himself to lie to a priest of Feil Luz.

The priest shuddered, and a new fear came into his eyes. Has Terasius betrayed us as well?

Terasius? Dergoth slid his sword from its sheath and glanced around the courtyard.

He rode in just before your demons, but he's gone now, the priest said.

Gone where? Dergoth lifted his sword, and the priest backed away, bumping into the Zidonian who held him.

I don't know.

The cold sword hilt bit into Dergoth's palm. He stepped closer to the priest. Does anyone know?

The priest's eyes strayed to his fallen companions, and he shuddered. No one still living.

Dergoth plunged his sword into the priest's chest, twisting it to cut through the heart. He jerked the blade free and let the body crumple to his feet. You'll thank me for that, he said to the fallen priest. Death is easy compared to a life enslaved by Zidokar.

The man who guarded the priest yelled and grabbed Dergoth's arm. What are you doing?

He tried to escape. Dergoth shook free and headed for the palace.

But Zidokar, the sacrifice?

Zidokar already has his sacrifice. He has me, does he not?

Chapter One

The Cry of the Wolf

Seth wiped loose dirt from the crevice with his fingertips before shoving his hand into it. He tested the hold then shifted his weight, allowing his other hand to reach higher up the cliff face. The muscles across his chest and arms burned from the effort of climbing.

Close by, his foster father, Terasius, inched ahead. This high in the Verazath Mountains, the wind cut across the rock face in sharp blasts, loosening Terasius's long, dark hair from the leather thong that held it. Seth squinted to keep the wind out of his eyes and pushed himself harder. The top of the cliff waited not more than a body-length above. Today would be the day he beat Terasius to the top.

Seth inched up a bit farther.  From his new height, he could see the prickly-pine tree that protruded from the cliff face to his left.  He'd watched it grow there for many years now, marveling how its roots carved their way through solid rock.  Sprigs of light-green needles at the top and sides showed that the tree continued to flourish this spring.

A shadow crossed the tree, and Seth looked up. An eagle circled on the rising air currents, its proud wings spread wide, soaking up the sun. Seth's world shifted. Hunger gnawed at him. He looked through the mind and eyes of the eagle at the cliffs below. The chill wind swept under him. Then he saw it—a squirrel, cracking pine nuts on the warm rocks not far from the prickly-pine.

With the eagle, Seth screamed and dove.

The squirrel dropped the pine nut and ran for the tree. Its desire to live overpowered the eagle's hunger, and Seth found himself as the squirrel, scampering for his hole. His heart pounded. All else on the mountain faded out but the desperate race that would secure his life. Above him, the eagle screamed again. Its talons grazed the fur on his rump as he dodged into the hole near the roots of the tree. He curled into a ball in the dark safety of the hole.

A rough hand on Seth's back shot fear through him again. The eagle? No, Terasius held him against the jagged cliff. Sharp stone pressed into Seth's cheek.

By the fires, Seth. Concentrate. Terasius swore at him. You're not a child anymore. Do you think I'll be here forever to keep you from falling?

Seth tightened his grip and regained his balance. Guilt tugged at him. Terasius had risked his own safety, freeing a hand to hold Seth in place while Seth let his mind wander.

Terasius released him and continued his climb.

Seth gritted his teeth in frustration. Terasius would never understand. He could not hear the animal's thoughts in his mind. Since he and Terasius lived alone in the mountains—only visited twice a year by a trapper friend named Grimba who brought them supplies—there was no one who could help Seth overcome this affliction. A priest of Feil Luz might have known the cure, but they were all dead, killed by the Zidonian usurper, Dergoth.

Terasius swung his legs over the top and stood. Seth forced himself to climb the rest of the way to join him. The scent of melting snow filled the mountain slope that continued its rise beyond the cliff. The wind's cold teeth bit at Seth's ears as he sat and pulled his legs up to his chest.

You all right? The roughness of Terasius's voice couldn't quite hide his concern.

Yes. Sorry. I just need to rest.

Don't take too long. Grimba's due back today, and I've got something important to tell you. Terasius started back down, leaving Seth sitting alone on the top of the world.

The mountains spread out below him, the pine trees giving way to thick forests of maple and aspen on the lower slopes. At the base of those slopes, to the south, lay Feilia, the country Terasius had left behind when he brought Seth to the Verazath Mountains to raise him.

Seth's parents were from Feilia too, though Terasius refused to speak of them. In fact, Terasius would tell Seth nothing about that country except that he had been a knight there in the service of King E'sterel, the Feilian king. Thank the Blessed, Terasius had taught Seth to read and given him some books that told about Feilia and its neighboring country, its enemy, Zidonia.

The books described Feilia as it had been. When Grimba came, he shared news of what Feilia had become since its fall to Dergoth.

Terasius never commented on those stories. He became surly and, more often than not, left the cabin. Like so many others in the Verazath Mountains, Terasius was a refugee, sure to be killed if Dergoth's soldiers found him. He'd survived hidden in these mountains, making his way as a trapper. Despite the danger, Seth wished they could visit Feilia someday.

Taking a deep breath, Seth climbed back over the edge and down the cliff. Terasius would be waiting for him at the cabin. On the way down, he forced himself to see only the rocks in front of him and pay no attention when other animal thoughts pressed into his mind.

He jogged the three miles back to their small log cabin and found Terasius already in the clearing out front, going through sword forms—another part of their morning ritual. Both of them practiced each form. If Seth got sloppy or missed a guard, Terasius made him start over.

Seth crossed the clearing to the porch where he'd left his sword on the bench along with his favorite book, Heroes and Kings of Feilia. He reached for the sword, but picked the book up instead. Sword practice could wait a few more minutes. He'd left E'stervalon trapped in the clutches of the blood-drinking Ulami. Sinking to the bench, he opened the worn book.

Terasius jumped on the porch, tore the book from Seth’s hands, and hurled it into the muddy yard. It's time for sword practice.

Seth started after the book, but found Terasius's sword against his throat. Sighing, Seth swept his own sword off the bench and into the blade at his neck, forcing it away. Must we go through this every morning? Terasius had to be truly agitated to treat a book like that.

Someday you'll be glad I taught you to use a sword, boy. Terasius let Seth push him back, then he arced his blade around and sliced toward Seth’s stomach. The tip of the sword made a cut in the leather jerkin Seth wore before he could parry it.

A grim smile worked its way across Terasius's face, and he swung again. Few things made Terasius smile. A good sword fight was one of them.

Seth jumped away from the bench, dodging and using his momentum to counter attack. Just because you were a knight, doesn't mean I have to be. He twisted his blade up and thrust it toward Terasius's chest.

Terasius sidestepped, letting Seth's sword slide past him. Well you're not meant to be a trapper, that's for sure.

Seth let his momentum carry him down the steps and out of reach. Terasius was right. How could he stand it when the thoughts of dying animals forced their way into his mind? The memory of the first time it happened still haunted him. He was five, and Terasius had killed a rabbit to eat for dinner. The rabbit's desperate thoughts of escape overcame Seth's own impressions. He'd huddled behind the woodpile for a long time before Terasius found him.

You'll be seventeen next week, a man. I can't hold your hand and nursemaid you forever. You've got to learn to survive on your own. Terasius jumped off the porch and came after him. Snatching the book from the mud, Seth tucked it into the waist of his breeches. He drew in a breath and attacked when Terasius closed on him. Surely there is something else I can do.

Wielding his sword with the precision of a master swordsman, Terasius blocked and struck at Seth. The clang of their swords rang up the mountainside. Not without a sword in your hand.

Seth parried Terasius's advance and started a series of counter attacks. His blade wove in and out, flashing silver, dancing with Terasius's sword. Yes, his birthday was next week, but it had never occurred to him that Terasius might send him away. Could that be what Terasius meant when he said Seth must survive on his own? Where would he go? What would he do?

Since Dergoth had conquered Feilia, the Shridol, his demons summoned from the Womb of the World, had spread across the country. Each spring Grimba brought back more news of their devastation. Always the sightings drew closer to the Verazath Mountains and Mountdale, the village where Grimba traded.

Maybe Seth would go to Feilia anyway. Grimba could be wrong about how dangerous the Shridol were.

Terasius pressed Seth without mercy, full strength behind every blow. Seth fought to keep his sword in motion, forcing his body through the moves Terasius had taught him. If he didn't pay close attention, Terasius would have him, and Terasius wasn't afraid to draw blood. Seth had the scars to prove it.

But they were nothing like the scars Terasius had. Vivid red welts, subtle white lines, marks from all the battles he'd fought against the Shridol and the Zidonian armies. More prominent than all others, was the scar running down the back of Terasius's left arm from elbow to wrist. Terasius rubbed it often, as if it still hurt him somehow. That was another forbidden topic.

The sword thrusts became more intense. Sweat trickled down Seth's back, and he gulped air, trying to catch his breath. Thrust, parry, slice, his arms tingled from the force of Terasius's blows. He stepped back, hoping for a respite. Terasius pressed him harder.

Never ease up on an enemy, Terasius said.

Seth wanted to protest that he was not an enemy, but figured it would just spur Terasius on.

Swinging into another attack, Terasius's blows come hard and fast. Seth blocked above his head then twisted his blade around to stop another blow to his right side.

In a fluid motion, Terasius spun his blade and swung for Seth's left, another killing blow. Seth moved to block it, but the furious thoughts of a trapped wolf shattered his concentration. He dropped his guard as a howl of pain from the wolf exploded in his head.

Terasius's sword slammed into his side, throwing him to the ground and knocking the air out of him. A hot trickle of blood soaked into his leather jerkin.

Demons of darkness, Terasius swore at him. What are you doing? I barely had time to twist my sword flat.

Seth struggled to his feet and ran for the trap-line, leaving Terasius behind. Wolves seldom came down this far, but he knew it was a wolf in the trap. A primal growl filled his mind. It had smelled something, something it recognized, something it sought, and came sniffing around. Now it was caught in the trap that most often stood empty, for Seth had taught the creatures in the area to stay away from it.

Too bad he couldn't warn the animals along the whole trap-line, but Terasius had stopped taking Seth out with him years ago, when he noticed the drop in catches every time he did. Terasius trapped, and Seth minded the chores around the cabin.

Seth cut through the trees, fighting his way past the fern and leatherleaf that covered the ground. He sent his thoughts to beaver, as he started up a steep rise. Beaver watched, staying well clear of the wolf as it thrashed and growled, its back leg clamped in the trap. Seth studied the wolf through beaver's eyes. It was a large gray one, angry and dangerous.

From the top of the rise, its growls met Seth's ears. Not far now. He plunged down the hill into the thick trees where the trap was anchored. Doubling over, he tried to catch his breath. His side hurt as if a tree had fallen across his body.

The wolf growled and lunged at him. The trap's metal teeth held it back.

I've come to help, Seth thought to it. The wolf thrashed and growled. Its hind leg was a swollen mass of blood and fur. Seth tried again, sending an image of him releasing the creature. The wolf howled, and snapped at him. Too hurt, too angry to listen.

Groaning, Seth straightened and tore off the leather jerkin he wore. He had a hunting knife belted at his left hip, but no intention of using it. Instead he wound the leather around his right arm and moved toward the wolf.

He held his arm out as he stepped up to it. As planned, the wolf sank its sharp teeth into the leather, the strong jaws grinding into his arm, threatening to snap it.

He stepped on the release with one foot and used his other foot along with his left hand to pry the trap open. The wolf shook his arm.

You're free, Seth thought to it.

It thrashed around, still grinding its teeth into Seth's arm. The movement slid its leg from the metal jaws, and Seth jumped back, letting the trap snap closed on empty air. It clanged shut, startling the wolf.

Run. You are free, Seth said again.

The wolf pricked its ears forward and cocked its head to the side, its dark brown eyes staring Seth full in the face. With one last growl, it gave Seth's arm a gentle shake then let go. It dragged itself into the underbrush and disappeared into the forest.

Seth sank to the ground still trying to get a breath.

Terasius stepped in front of him. It would have been more merciful to kill it.

Fear jolted through Seth. Terasius had followed. Wolf pelts were worth a lot. Now, Terasius would send him away for sure.

I— Seth knew he couldn't explain. Terasius would never understand about the animal's thoughts in his mind.

Let me see your arm.

Seth hugged the leather-wrapped arm to his chest.

I said, let me see it. Terasius knelt and pulled Seth's arm free, unwinding the jerkin to reveal a mass of swollen purple bruises. He poked and prodded it.

Seth winced and stifled a cry of pain. Terasius looked concerned. Though he pushed Seth hard, he had a tender side, one that glimmered through his stern visage from time to time. Like now, he was angry about the wolf, but Seth's welfare was his first concern.

Well, it's not broken. Let me see your side.

Seth twisted so Terasius would have a better view. The world turned gray. The deep ache in his middle grew worse.

Is it a sharp pain? Terasius asked.

No. He held still, hoping the forest would come back into focus.

The ribs aren't broken then, just bruised. The cut from the blade's edge isn't too deep, but we should go back and wrap it. Terasius helped him to his feet, and they walked back to the cabin together.

I'm sorry, Seth said. He wasn't surprised when Terasius did not respond. Terasius seldom yelled at him. The worst scolding Seth feared was Terasius's silence. The firm set of his jaw and the look of disappointment in his eyes, was more of a lecture to Seth than any words Terasius could speak.

Two horses, piled high with pouches and bags, stood in the clearing by the cabin when Seth and Terasius arrived. Well, Terasius said, looks like Grimba's back.

Hearing Terasius's voice, Grimba tromped out of the cabin and down the steps toward them. He was a short, heavyset man, all muscle. Despite the spring warmth, he still wore his thick winter leathers. His gray beard buried his face except for full, brown lips, a gnarly nose, and eyes that danced in the sunlight.

He took one look at Seth, let out a whoop, and asked what happened.

Wolf, caught in the trap, Terasius answered.

Grimba smiled and rubbed his hands together. The smile slid from his face when he noticed they didn't have the dead wolf with them. Where's the pelt?

Terasius frowned at Seth. The wolf escaped.

Too bad. Could have got a good price for a wolf pelt.

Could have. Terasius motioned Seth inside. I see you got that horse I asked for.

Seth stopped on the porch. A horse? So, Terasius was going to send him away. He sank onto the bench and watched the two older men start unpacking.

Go in and wrap your side, Terasius said. Seth did as he was told, wondering where he would go. In all his life he had been nowhere, met no one besides Grimba and Terasius. His only friend as a child had been a blue-eyed girl who came to him in his dreams. He had called her Miralain and had played with her often as he slept. They'd frolicked in and out of tiered gardens and chased around sparkling fountains. His childhood would have been unbearable without her, but it had been years now since she'd last danced in his mind.

Though the thought of leaving the mountains intrigued him, he didn't want to go off on his own. Somehow he had just assumed Terasius would always be with him.

Swallowing his fear, Seth got out the bandages. A heavy feeling settled in his stomach. He wished he could go back out on the porch and bury himself in his book. There was no chance of that. Even as he pulled the book from the waist of his breeches, Grimba heaved in the first bag of flour, and Terasius followed with Seth's sword. Only then did Seth realize he had dropped it in the clearing when he ran for the wolf.

He remembered many lectures Terasius had given him on caring for the weapon. Terasius's sword was always cleaned, polished, and hanging at his side, winter or summer. If the sun was up, he wore it. At night it lay next to him within easy reach.

Seth was proud of his sword, proud of the day Terasius had given it to him, but this was not the first time he had simply forgotten about it.

With a cloth from the bench, Terasius wiped the blade free of mud, slid it into its sheath, and handed it to Seth. Again his silence was a more biting lecture than words. He checked Seth's bandage and went back to unloading the supplies.

Seth followed him out to help, and soon one of the horses munched the tender shoots of spring grass in contentment. Grimba left his own horse loaded. Seth thought it strange. Grimba usually stayed with them for a few weeks before packing deeper into the mountains to his own cabin.

Seth looked forward to Grimba's visits. The old trapper told exciting stories and sang rowdy songs. He passed on all the news of Feilia, spread by the trappers and traders that met in Mountdale every spring and fall.

Now that Seth was old enough to go out on his own, in fact it seemed Terasius would send him away, he wanted to pry every story he could from Grimba. But it looked like Grimba planned to leave now.

You're not going, are you? Seth wished he could rush to the second horse and unload Grimba's things himself. You always stay for my birthday.

Grimba's twinkling eyes clouded. The Shridol are in Mountdale. They come at night. I saw them take over Durbuk's body, and Arhai's, and the widow Jameson's boy. She tried to stop them and they clawed her bad. She'd have died if that priest hadn't shown up. I'm sorry, Seth. I'm heading back into the mountains now, before they get me too. Grimba fished in his coat pocket while he spoke. I got you a present though. He pulled out a book and handed it to Seth, then took up his horse's lead rope.

Seth flashed the book to Terasius who stood on the porch, unmoving like a rock in the wind. The book was bound in black leather, the title engraved in gold, Missing Magic: The Lost Brothers. Seth opened it and found the flowing handwriting the most beautiful he'd ever seen. How did you get this? he asked. Who would have such a book?

Grimba chuckled. It was the priest's. I told him I knew a lad who loved reading more than anything and offered to trade him a right-good beaver pelt for it. He wouldn't take the pelt, but said I could borrow the book and bring it back next time I was down in the area. I took it and let him draw me a map to his place, but I'm not going back down there any time soon. I didn't tell him that, of course.

Terasius leaped from the porch, grabbed the front of Grimba's leather coat, and shook him. You told me all the priests of Feil Luz were dead. You said Dergoth killed them all when he took Amen-Luz and destroyed their temple.

Grimba waited for Terasius to stop shaking him before he spoke. Them's the rumors I heard. But this one had that medallion. They say it has healing powers. Maybe it kept him alive. He used it to force the Shridol out of people's bodies and to heal the widow Jameson.

The medallion? Terasius released Grimba and smoothed the trapper's coat.

Grimba nodded. You know I never asked you no questions about your life. But seeing as you're going, and I got a good mind of what you're going for. I just wanted to tell you one other rumor I've been keeping to myself.

Grimba rubbed his calloused hands together and stepped back, putting more space between himself and Terasius. Some folks say that the Captain of the King's Guard—the very man who made a blood oath to protect the king, to give his own life before a drop of the king's blood was shed—was in league with Dergoth and murdered the king during that last battle. Then he escaped to Amen-Luz and killed the queen as well.

Terasius's face went as red as hot coals. He growled deep in his throat, and his hand gripped the hilt of his sword so tight that the blood drained from his knuckles.

The furious thoughts that whipped through Terasius's mind blasted into Seth's own. Anger, fear, betrayal, the jumbled rush of impressions outmatched those of the wolf Seth had freed only a short time before. Such anguish, such fury, Seth wanted to reach out and pry the trap open that held Terasius, but he couldn't see it. He didn't know what it was that had just happened, or had happened fifteen years ago when Dergoth took Feilia.

Grimba shook his head and tugged on the rope to get the horse started.

Grimba. Terasius laid a hand on Grimba's shoulder. You have the map where the priest lives?

I tucked it in the book. Grimba tried to leave once more. Again Terasius stopped him. The anger dissipated from Seth's mind and he lost contact with Terasius's thoughts.

Terasius struggled to speak. I . . . You . . . all these years—

You're welcome. Grimba slapped Terasius on the back, waved to Seth, and dragged his horse out of the clearing. Seth waved back. He wanted to go after Grimba and say a better goodbye, but his mind was still reeling.

Terasius kept his thoughts locked away from Seth most of the time, as if he sensed Seth could hear them. They never spoke of it. Seth tried to stay out of Terasius's mind, but Terasius's thoughts had been so frenzied and chaotic this time that Seth could not block them out. Terasius was angry and leaving for Amen-Luz, the capital of Feilia, to kill Dergoth.

Chapter Two

The King's Talisman

Carlen leaned low against his horse's neck and let the animal ran at full speed. The spring wind entwined with the horse's mane and whipped into his face. It felt good to be out of the fortress after the long winter. He couldn't wait to get to the village.

Music wafted to him across the crisp air. The spring festival started with the dawn, and he had missed the beginning though the day was still young. He would have loved to come down last evening when most of the others came into the village, but as son of the Umbrian Lord, tradition demanded his morning arrival.

He reached the edge of the village and slowed his horse. Villagers lined the streets, and a cheer went up when they saw him. He guided his horse toward the town square. Faded ribbons stretched along the front of the buildings, a humble attempt at festivity. It had been years since new ones could be purchased from Feilia. The only things that came up from Feilia these