The Towers of Khormur-Dhain

By Kenneth McDonald

Apprentice wizard Ethan Tolyn survived the difficult journey to the town of Ironbridge, which marks the boundary between civilization and wilderness. But Ethan finds the reality of life on the frontier to be different than his expectations, and he rapidly finds himself drawn into another dangerous adventure. Accompanied by Selenna and Bella, and some new allies, the young arcanist sets out on a quest to recover a cache of forgotten lore from a long-faded age. But what Ethan doesn’t know is that there is more to this mission than he or his employer expects, and that a dangerous adversary is also interested in the secret of the towers of Khormur-Dhain.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kenneth McDonald
• Release date: Dec 5, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005529796

Kenneth McDonald

I am a retired education consultant who worked for state government in the area of curriculum. I have also taught American and world history at a number of colleges and universities in California, Georgia, and South Carolina. I started writing fiction in graduate school and never stopped. In 2010 I self-published the novella "The Labyrinth," which has had over 100,000 downloads. Since then, I have published more than fifty fantasy and science fiction books on Smashwords. My doctorate is in European history, and I live with my wife in northern California.

Book preview

Prologue

The rider created a bit of a stir when he arrived at the Dawn Gate. His horse, a huge animal of nearly twenty hands, was lathered from a long, hard ride. The rider himself was equally prodigious, looming over the guards at the gate when he slid down off the back of the mount. He was clad in a suit of full plate armor, coated in dust from the road, and carried several weapons, including a heavy broadsword slung across his back. A sunburst sigil was imprinted across his breastplate, and again on the large shield that hung from his saddlebags.

The rider presented his credentials before the guards could ask. They stepped aside and allowed him to pass, but as soon as he had left the gate behind and moved out of view, one of them set off at a sprint for the citadel that overlooked the city.

The rider took his time, leading his exhausted animal through the streets of Evensong, ignoring the curious looks he drew and the conversations that spread in his wake.

The delay meant that the guards at the citadel were waiting for him, and the huge doors that led to the courtyard swung open at his approach. A tall, lean half-elf in the formal robes of a steward came running down the steps of the keep as the rider handed off the reins of his mount to one of the stable hands.

Lightbringer! the steward exclaimed. Welcome to Evensong. Had we advance notification of your visit, we would have prepared a more appropriate reception. Unfortunately, Baron Tillebrand is not in residence at the moment, but…

This is not an official visit, the man said. His voice echoed deeply within his helmet. He reached up and pulled it off to reveal a face sculpted with hard edges. His hair was matted with sweat and dust, but that did not detract from the effect of his piercing green eyes. I am here on church business, he said.

The steward hesitated. Ah… the temple…

Will be notified, the other said. I have a list of people I will need to question. Time is of the essence. I will require a quiet, private space to conduct the interviews.

Of course, the steward said. I am sure that the Baron will be happy to help, but he is entitled to know the reason for your query.

The Lightbringer gave the steward a hard look, but to his credit the half-elf did not back down. As he removed his gauntlets, the armored figure said, I am tracking someone. A very dangerous individual. He may be posing as a simple traveler, a common man. He looks harmless, but he has killed a number of people, and commands dark powers.

The steward blinked. And the name of this man?

His name is Cedran Millar.

* * * * *

Chapter 1

After a week in Ironbridge, Ethan Tolyn was starting to know his way around the frontier town. But he was also running out of money.

When he’d first arrived, he’d had a pouch full of gold and silver coins, more money than he’d ever had in his life. Of course, a month ago, he’d had nothing. He’d been the penniless apprentice to a highly-indebted wizard in Evensong. When Orvallus had suddenly and unexpectedly blown himself and most of his tower up, Ethan had found himself without a home, a job, or even much in the way of possessions save for a change of clothes and a spellbook.

A merchant friend had warned him that the city council was likely to bind him in indenture to one of the wizards that Orvallus had owned money to. He’d left Evensong the next day, traveling with a merchant caravan to Ironbridge, even further out along the wild borderlands of Arresh. He’d found himself joining a pair of woman rogues and a farmer with strange magical abilities on a series of adventures. It was in helping rescue a group of enslaved gnomes that he’d won the gold that had—until recently—filled his purse, and the new clothes that he was wearing. He’d assumed that everything would be much easier once he reached his destination.

What he hadn’t counted on was how expensive everything was here. Ironbridge had once been a busy center of trade, serving as a jumping-off point for expeditions across the Wilderush River. But those days were long past, and while the town produced most of what it needed, the rest had to come in via long overland journeys from the more populated core of Arresh, hundreds of miles to the southeast.

But over a thousand people still called the town home, and a good percentage of them seemed to be out and about as Ethan left the market square and turned north along one of the two main streets that bisected the town. The looming bulk of Governor’s Keep on its hill overlooking the town rose up directly ahead of him, but his destination that day was much closer.

As he turned onto the Alley of Trade, he passed two members of the town watch, leaning against the corner of a building. One was focused on eating an apple, while the other told a story that apparently featured a merchant’s daughter. They offered Ethan a friendly nod as he walked past. He supposed that he looked respectable; he wondered if he would be treated as well when his money ran out and he could no longer afford to keep himself clean.

He’d visited the Alley of Trade several times since his arrival, mostly in an unsuccessful search for work, and it didn’t take him long to find the shop he was looking for.

Tolverand’s Alchemy was a hole-in-the-wall located in the back of a building, accessed by a narrow side alley. In the dim light Ethan failed to notice the three youths lounging in the recessed back entry of the house across the way. They were about his age and size, but there the similarity ended. Ethan had been raised by a solitary wizard, and his only contact with his peers had come on errands he’d run for his master. These three were obviously street kids, and the fact that they were idle in the middle of the day suggested they were up to no good. He hadn’t seen much overt crime since his arrival, mostly because he’d been staying in the town’s finest inn, but Ironbridge was a frontier town, and it was impossible to miss its rough edge.

All three youths sprang up from their slouches when they saw him. The first, who had an aspiring wisp of a moustache decorating his upper lip, said, What’s this, now? What do you want, chum?

I have business with Master Tolverand, Ethan said.

Business, he says, the second youth said.

Looks like a quite prosperous lad, the third said. He had a huge pimple on his nose that was visible even in the weak light.

Moustache approached; he seemed to be the leader. That right? he asked. You prosperous? Looks like you’ve got a few coins in your purse, you do.

Ethan muttered something under his breath.

What’s that, now? Moustache asked.

Ethan lifted a hand and waved. Moustache and Pimple just stared at him, but the other youth turned and hissed, Yellowshirts.

His friends turned and saw two men clad in the bright tunics of the city watch standing at the far end of the alley, where it backed onto the Alley of Blades. They were leaning on their iron-shod staffs, watching intently.

Let’s go, Moustache said. See you later, chum.

Ethan waited until all three were gone before he let his spell fade. The two guards shimmered and vanished. With a sigh of relief, he hurried over to the shop.

The alchemist’s shop was crowded into a space not much bigger than Ethan’s room back at The River Dancer. Every inch of wall and floor space was filled with a collection of mismatched boxes, bottles, jars, and other containers of every possible shape and size. Most were labeled with scraps of parchment, but others were mysteries, covered in enough dust that they might not have been noticed for years if not decades. The proprietor was an elderly halfling, with long mutton chops that exploded out in a gray fringe around the edges of his face.

Greetings, young friend, he said as Ethan closed the door behind him. What can I do for you today?

You’d do more custom if your shop was a bit less hazardous to get to,

The halfling shrugged. I find that resourceful people are the most interesting to deal with. He placed his hands on the counter. So, what are you seeking this day. Something to, ah, keep the staff upright?

Ethan blinked, the realized what the alchemist was talking about. No! he said.

Tolverand chuckled. Ah, to be young again.

Do you trade in ink? Ethan asked.

Do I trade in ink, he asks. The halfling reached behind the counter into one of the rows of cubbies along the back wall of the shop, and pulled out a long mahogany box. He opened it up to reveal rows of padded compartments within, most of which held glass vials. This is my most popular seller, he said, offering it to the wizard.

Ethan examined the vial, holding it up to the light and shaking it gently. This isn’t quite what I had in mind, he said.

Ah… a connoisseur. Something specific in mind, then?

Ethan took out a small vial from the pocket of his coat. It was very nearly empty, but a few black droplets rolled around inside when the halfling examined it. Ahh, he said. Arcanist’s ink. Yes, yes. I might have some around here somewhere… He made his way around the counter to a massive cabinet built into the wall. Ethan wasn’t sure how he was going to get up to it, but he took out a small device that turned out to be a clever folding stepladder. He searched for a moment and turned to Ethan with a dusty vial. This is what you seek, my boy. Perfect for the wizard’s art. Made from the rarest ingredients, it won’t run or fade. It grabs onto the parchment, and won’t let go; what you inscribe with this will outlast either of us.

How much is it? Ethan asked.

The halfling’s look became canny. I don’t have to tell you how challenging it is to manufacture ink that is suitable for scribing spells, he said. This was not something I whipped up in my back room, but was imported all the way from Severon.

How much…

Twenty golds for the vial, the halfling said.

Ethan could not contain his surprised reaction. Twenty!

The contents of that vial would have cost the same," Tolverand said. Ethan looked at it, the last of Felderwynn’s gift, and blinked. He’d known that everything that the gnomes had given him and his friends had been of top quality, but he hadn’t known the true value of the arcanist’s gift. Had he known… no, he probably would have done exactly what he had done. The contents of the vial were now inscribed in his spellbook, adding another of Felderwynn’s gifts to his permanent repertoire of magic.

Tolverand was still watching him, perhaps recognizing that haggling would not help in this instance. You’re a young man fairly new to Ironbridge, I’d wager, he said. Seeking wealth, fame, power?

Not really, Ethan said.

The halfling put the vial away and closed the cabinet. Why else come to the frontier? Aren’t many adventurers crossing the river these days, but there is value in the wilds. Reagents that I can make use of. Cloverbane, for example. He produced an envelope from a cubby and showed it to Ethan. It held a dry piece of plant inside that he didn’t recognize, which gave off a slightly pungent odor. It’s like clover, the pods thicker, up to the size of a man’s fist. Smells like rot, brings scavengers. The berries are toxic, and the flowers, if disturbed, release a dust that is quite nasty if it gets in your lungs."

Sounds awful, Ethan said.

Indeed. But the stigma are quite useful in a number of concoctions. Sort of like saffron, in that regard. You are familiar with the properties of medicinal plants?

Ethan thought back to the books in Orvallus’s study. Somewhat, he said.

The halfling reached behind the counter again. I have a list here somewhere…

No, that’s all right, Ethan said. Maybe another time. Thanks.

I’ll be here if you change your mind, Tolverand said, as Ethan made his way out.

He looked around carefully, wary of the young men from earlier, but they hadn’t returned. He made his way back to the market square, distracted by dark thoughts. It was almost time for lunch, but his worries put him off his appetite. He walked around, ignoring the calls from the vendors. He’d used to like spending time in the square in Evensong, watching the people and the innumerable dramas they carried with them. But that was before everything had changed. He thought of Bella and Selenna. He hadn’t seen either of them since their arrival in Ironbridge, and he admitted to himself that he’d often looked for them during his outings in the town. That eventful journey from Evensong to Ironbridge had often filled his thoughts.

He realized that he’d been walking around the square aimlessly. He was honest enough to admit to himself that he was lonely. He hadn’t made any friends in Ironbridge; the only people who were nice to him were those who wanted his money.

He was about to head back to the inn when something caught his eye. He walked over to a large public notice board, erected next to the raised wooden platform that dominated the center of the square. He’d walked past it a number of times since arriving here; mostly it just contained assorted announcements and advertisements, but today his eyes were drawn to a parchment covered in neat, flowing lines of text.

He read the message, then read it again. Then he hurried back to the inn.

* * * * *

Chapter 2

Bella sat alone in the common room of The Broken Cup and nursed her ale. It was early afternoon, but the tavern was nearly half full, with every stool in front of the long bar occupied. The Cup catered to a local crowd, but no one gave Bella as much as a second glance, despite the fact that she was the only woman in the room.

That wouldn’t be the case when Selenna finally arrived. Her companion drew male attention the way that a mound of shit drew flies. Bella usually didn’t have that problem, thought that was less due to her crooked nose, prominent birthmark, and self-cut, close-cropped hair than to her demeanor and the way she tended to reach for the hilts of her knives when someone made eye contact.

The door to the tavern opened and someone came in. Bella didn’t need to look up to know who it was; she could sense the change in the room, the turning of male heads, the shifting on stools, even before she heard the familiar footsteps crossing the room.

How are your brothers and sisters in the faith? she asked.

Doing well, Selenna said. She sat down. Lately she’d been letting her dark hair grow out again, adding to her charm. But that couldn’t hide her slightly pointed ears, or the other hints of her mixed heritage. Half-elves were less common here than in Evensong; that city was not only much larger, but it was close to the border with the elven kingdom of Tal Nadesh. Not as close as the Widash Valley, but Selenna would never return there, Bella knew, any more than she would go back to her own home. Ever.

You okay? Selenna asked.

Fine. Want a drink?

Isn’t it a little early?

Bella shrugged. What else is there to do here? Since you won’t let us get to work.

Selenna sighed. We need to lay low. You agreed, we’re not that far from Evensong.

There’s nobody here who knows us.

I don’t like it any more than you do, but it would be stupid to draw attention to ourselves. Look, if you need some excitement, maybe we can visit the casino tonight. The church owns it, you know.

Figures, Bella said. Selenna was a priestess of the goddess Laesil, known alternatively as Lady Fortune, Fatespinner, or the Battle Maiden, depending on which kingdom you were from. They don’t cheat, do they?

Selenna looked scandalized. That would… not be wise. They’d have a Rulebinder dispatched here, those guys—and gals—don’t mess around.

Not that they need to cheat, if they’re all like you.

Are you saying I cheat?

I’m saying that I’ve played dice with you. And cards, though you seem to be a bit less lucky with them.

The goddess smiles on me, Selenna said. She grinned, but it faded as she glanced toward the entry. Bella followed her eyes, her hand twitching toward the hilt of one of her knives.

A man had come into the tavern. He was not that dissimilar from the other locals at first glance; he wore the same simple working clothes, though his were clearly of a quality cut. But there was something different in the way he carried himself. He was attractive, with chiseled features and a neatly-trimmed beard, but Bella was never one to be swayed merely by a man’s looks. She didn’t miss the way his eyes scanned the room before they settled inevitably on their table.

Selenna let out a soft gasp of surprise as he approached. What is it? Bella hissed.

He has elvish blood, Selenna whispered.

Now that it had been pointed out, Bella could see it. His elven features were more subtle than Selenna’s, perhaps suggesting a more distant ancestor. He stopped in front of their table. Ladies, he said, his voice deep and confident. Mind if I join you?

Piss off, Bella said.

We are not interested in companionship at the moment, sir, Selenna said.

The man made an apologetic gesture. I’m afraid I must insist, he said, settling into the vacant chair.

Bella noticed something else as the man sat down. It was a subtle change in the room, but she was used to sensing those kinds of understated shifts. A man at the end of the bar got up and closed the outside door. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another man get up from a table in the corner and move to block the hallway that led into the back. The other men at the bar kept on drinking, but Bella could sense that their attention too had shifted, and they were intently following the proceedings.

Selenna had sensed Bella’s sudden tension, and she laid her hand on her friend’s. She didn’t speak, but the younger woman could almost hear her voice in her head. Stay calm.

Who are you? Bella asked.

Kevhon Tosk, as your service, he said, nodding his head slightly.

What do you want?

Tosk leaned back in his seat. You know, I admire hubris. In a different context, I would even enjoy getting a chance to work with you. Ironbridge isn’t a very big town, but there’s plenty of gold flowing through this place to go around. Unfortunately, you were just a bit too bold in your choice of targets. The elves of Evensong have a long reach, and many friends.

So what happens now? Selenna asked.

As a professional courtesy, I will give you twenty-four hours to get out of my town. If I or any of my associates see you in Ironbridge after this time tomorrow, what is left of you will be heading back to Evensong in a sack.

We don’t like threats, Bella said.

I haven’t issued any. I have only stated what will happen if you elect to remain. Oh, and you should know that word has already gone out ahead on the road. There may be those further along who are less… sporting.

He rose from the chair, and straightened his coat. I want you to know, it’s nothing personal; just business. Good day, ladies.

Tosk left. As the door swung shut behind him, the men in the tavern went back to drinking. The ones who had been watching the exits rejoined them, but were too conspicuous now to ignore.

Bella and Selenna shared a long look, then got up and went back to their room.

* * * * *

Chapter 3

What surprised Ethan most about Governor’s Keep was how empty it was. The inside seemed even bigger than it had on the way up the steep, switchbacked road that led up to the top of the bluff overlooking Ironbridge. He’d worried about getting in, but all he’d had to do was give his name and say was that he was there to meet with Gavel Corrigan, and the guards had let him past the reinforced main gate. A servant in the colors of the house of Dangren had let him through a number of large, richly furnished rooms before depositing