The Mortal Towers

By Evan Holfeltz

The small, quiet village of Glistenwood that Phynnaes called home had always felt so far from the war that ravaged the continent of Cavariel. The calmness of the town contrasted with the confusion in his heart since his father disappeared while fighting the invading religious zealots known as the Concordat of the Fallen.

His fa

• Language: English
• Publisher: A City Beyond
• Release date: Jan 30, 2024
• ISBN: 9798869100313

Book preview

The Mortal Towers

Book One

Evan Holfeltz

Copyright © 2024 Evan Holfeltz

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the publisher.

A City Beyond—Merrillville, IN

ISBN: 979-8-218-35230-1

eBook ISBN: 979-8-8691-0031-3

Library of Congress Control Number: 2024901609

Title: The Mortal Towers: Book One

Author: Evan Holfeltz

Digital distribution | 2024

Paperback | 2024

This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real.

Contents

The Mortal Towers

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Epilogue

About the Author

Prologue

Year 2806 of the First Era

S

moke billowed over the bleak and charred landscape. The sky burned a bright orange as the smell of death loomed over the entire continent while the sun dipped behind the mountains. The once great cities, now reduced to rubble. The sky was clouded with smoke and dust and was tinged light orange. Amidst the crumbling buildings stood a tower, it glistened with mystical energy that emanated blue against the tangerine sky and rose so high that it vanished into the haze. Its white stone stood out from the burning surroundings as if it were the last bastion of hope in a dead world. However, hope had long been a lost concept in this realm. Three other towers just like this one were erected in the four corners of the continent.

The last king of the once prosperous people approached this tower. A bright, glorious light descended from the top to meet the broken monarch. The king, tall and muscular with his tan skin and long, black hair was draped in a torn, red cape and wore tarnished, gray, plate armor with markings that glowed blue around the cuffs of his gauntlets and the gorget around his neck. The light fell upon him and he saw with his own eyes, Xydrahs, the God of Civilization. This was not a novel experience for the king, or any of the people in this once great kingdom. As the Gods walked among the people frequently at the time before the War. The God wore a heavy blue cloak inlaid with the same, glowing sigils as the king's armor.

Xydrahs spoke, "Hist Hria ulachin vala nos brutten. Which, when translated into the Providential language, means, We Gods shall no longer interfere."

The king bowed his head in humble agreement. After watching his people die by the millions simply by virtue of their existence, he knew that the only way that the mortals could recover was if the Gods left this world forever.

The King raised his head and said, with conviction and sadness, "Bala fres nocalichin. Which is to be interpreted, So long, old friend."

He watched as Xydrahs once again became engulfed in that glorious white light and rose into the sky. He saw similar lights rise from other, far away places as the other Gods under Xydrahs left the world. He watched as they faded into the sky. The orbs of light chased away all of the clouds caused by the smoke and disappeared into the increasingly dark, twilight sky. When the king lost sight of them, he looked down at his armor and the light from the glowing sigils on his suit dimmed until they were just plain marks on metal.

Year 127 of the Third Era

(Approximately 4,000 years later)

The sounds of screaming and wailing became distant as the thud of galloping hooves drummed into the night. The cool darkness of the midnight air was contrasted with the heat and light of the burning city slowly fading as they rode away. A young elven boy gripped the reins of the horse while wincing in pain. His dark cloak was stained red at the left shoulder as his blood dripped from a wound. On his lap lay the unconscious body of his younger sister. Her limp limbs bounced and swayed with every hastened step of the horse. The warm blood from the gouges on her chest grew cold on his thighs as the cool wind blew over them. Tears fell from his eyes as he glimpsed back at his burning home.

A recent rain had muddied the trail he was on. With every step the horse took, mud splashed lightly onto his face and dirtied his chestnut brown hair that flopped into his eyes. The elf rode as the last words their father spoke before two arrows stuck him in his upper back rang through his mind.

Andann! Get Camiel out of here! Ride to Providence, you’ll be safe there! Go!

His eyes grew weary as he stopped his horse. The night had been filled with silence broken only by the heavy breathing of his horse and the occasional moan from his sister. The glow from the full moon filled Andann’s surroundings with a cold, blue blanket of dim, bluish-white light. Clenching his shoulder, he looked around to see in all directions was dark, dense, forest filled with oak and birch trees. Fear filled his stomach as he realized now that he was lost. Determined to protect Camiel, Andann leaped off his horse to set up a meager camp.

For three days, they rode and camped. Andann’s shoulder, now crusted in dried blood, had begun to heal. Camiel, however, had not awoken. On the fourth morning, Andann arose from the simple tent he had erected with his cloak. His mind was troubled by his dreams of the night he lost it all. All he could see was the Aviarian bird men as they shot and cut down his friends and his family in front of him. He could still smell the ashes from his childhood home as it burned to the ground. He could still hear the sounds of the war horns and arrows flying past his head as he desperately tried to escape. He could still feel the pain as the talons of the bird man pierced his shoulder before being killed itself. However, most horrific, was the sight of his father pulling the clawed hands of an Aviar soldier out of the torso of an eight year old Camiel.

A streak of the morning sunlight stuck the eyes of the elven boy and snapped him out of his traumatic trance. He looked toward his still unconscious sister. He noticed the now black blood stains on her torn shirt and how it stood out against her pale skin. He went over and placed his hand on hers. He quickly pulled his hand back and shrieked in horror. Her palm was ice cold. Tears streamed down his dirty face, leaving trails of clean skin in their wake as he felt for breath, then he moved his fingers toward her neck to check for a pulse.

No, please, no, he whimpered with a voice too tired to muster anything more than a whisper. Andann clutched the body of his dead sister in his arms. Camiel, no, no, you can’t go.

His voice was cracking and squeaking as it should for such a young boy. His sobs and wheezing grew louder as the realization of his sister's mortality became stronger and stronger. No! cried Andann one last time.

Still too weak to dig a proper grave, Andann laid Camiel to rest at the base of a strong oak tree. The red and orange leaves of autumn oak, Andann used as a cover for his beloved sister. He held the white gem encrusted necklace that his sister had loved so much in his hands. Andann twirled the charm of a white stallion which hung from the bright chain in his finger. Andann kneeled down at the crude tomb and vowed, I will never forget you Camiel. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.

He wiped the tears from his face, placed the jewelry around his neck and he mounted his horse. The wind blew strong in the face of Andann, feeling to him, as a breath of guilt that filled him to his very core.

For the next two and a half weeks, Andann rode. Growing more exhausted with every passing hour. His hunger gnawed at him like the saddle on his horse as it rubbed at its skin until it bled. He looked forward and saw smoke rising from chimneys as a large village came into view. The early evening sun caused the grass covered rooftops to glow a brilliant golden hue. His chapped lips let loose a cry, Help…please. From the village came a human couple. These two showed the years of one just younger than middle aged and yet they were full of life.

These two were followed by a little boy, not much older than Camiel herself. Andann felt the strong hands of the brown haired man as he helped him off the saddle. Andann felt comfort in his rough wool tunic as the comfortingly rugged voice of the father asked him, What is your name, son?

My name is Andann Isaandiral.

The man stood up and said, Isaandiral? That’s Elvish. He knelt down again and asked, How old are you?

Twelve.

Well, Andann, you’re a long way from home, where’s your family?

Dead...they’re dead. My mom, my dad and my baby sister. And my home is now a pile of ash. Unable to compose himself anymore, he fell into the arms of the man and sobbed, I…I…told to go to...Providence...with Camiel...but got lost now she’s dead and it’s my fault.

The woman knelt down and touched Andann’s shoulder, her soft caress startled him as his shoulder was still injured. She spoke as the wind blew through her soft, shoulder-length golden hair. Nothing is your fault but you are hurt, let us take care of you. We’ll protect you, you’re safe here. You can tell us more when you are better. They walked him into town and called for a stable hand to help with his horse. The soft sound of the creek mixed with the bustle of the village brought peace to Andann. The little boy that came out with his parents tugged on the torn hems of the cloak that Andann was wearing.

Hi! said the child, My name Phynnaes, do you want to be friends?

Andann looked at the boy and saw the same innocence that once filled the eyes of his sister glow in his. Andann smiled and said, I’d like that.

Chapter 1

A Sunset in the Woods

I write this entry into my journal for I anticipate the complete and entire extermination of my art. I fear that soon, we all will be dead or in prison. I will try to record from memory our history, what we do, and what happened to us as a means of preservation. My family is amongst the last of the Star Readers, and we have foreseen unspeakable darkness that will be coming to our lands.

Excerpt from the Journal of the Star Reader, Raeyan

Year 133 Third Era

(Present Day)

O w! exclaimed Phynnaes as he tumbled to the ground. His wooden practice sword fell from his hand with a soft clank. The now fourteen year old boy lay, breathing heavily as he listened to the babbles from the brook that flowed next to them.

Remember what your Dad said, Phynn, ‘never drop your weapon,’ said Andann, as he extended his left hand down while clasping his own practice sword in the right. Your weapon is your tool, and if you drop your tool, you can’t finish the job.

Yeah yeah, said Phynn, as he clasped the elven hand stretched out to him, You know, it has been six years, he’s as much your dad as he is mine. You can call him Dad too.

Phynn stood up and brushed the dirt off his brown pants and burlap tunic. He wiped the sweat from his brow and pushed his medium length strawberry-blonde hair out of his eyes. Phynn continued, He wouldn’t mind, you know that.

Andann thrust his wooden sword into the soft dirt beneath the two boys and leaned his slender yet muscular frame onto it. A cool, soft, forest breeze blew through his long brown hair exposing his sharp tipped ears, which were a third longer than Phynn’s and his gold eyes glistened in the evening sun. Well, for those six years he has been dead for four of them.

Missing! snapped Phynn, He’s been missing for four years.

Oh...yeah sorry, said Andann, as he sheathed his wooden sword. We should head back, it is getting a little late.

Phynn hadn’t heard from his father, let alone seen him, in over four years. He had been conscripted to fight in the war, there was nothing in his life that the fighting hadn’t touched. Phynn remembered the last night before his father left home. It was painful for him to think about, he had only been ten years old. He forced his mind away from that line of thinking.

Phynn smiled and looked at Andann. Oh come on. You're tired already? he snickered, We’re just getting started. Dad told you to train me, we can spare a few minutes. Phynn drew his sword and took a firm stance with his wooden weapon held in front of him, angled toward Andann.

Are you sure Phynn? You did just take a nasty fall there, I’d hate for Mom to find her baby boy unconscious at the hands of a filthy elf, Andann replied, with a smile.

Phynn grinned and lunged at Andann while shouting, Have at you!

In one smooth motion, Andann drew his practice blade and blocked the overhead strike. With a woody smack, the two swords collided. The two brothers looked at each other and smiled.

Laughter and the cracking sound of wood echoed through the woods. It accented the sound of birds as they nested for the night, and of bugs as their chirps grew louder. Little balls of light began to dance in the trees as the faerie sprites played in the cool air. The evening sun bathed the tops of the trees in the large forest known as the Glistenwoods with a blanket of soft warm light. It seeped through the broad leaves of the ash forest speckling the ground with flakes of gold. The sky grew shades of orange and pink as the sun dipped behind the majestic Haffehar Mountains. Its imposing shadow covered the vast valley that held the Glistenwoods as night began to fall.

The chill of the night air cooled the sweat on the foreheads of the two boys as they clashed their swords together. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack rang loudly when a feeling of dread filled Andann. He shouted, Oh no! We’re gonna be late getting home! Mom is gonna kill us!

Both Phynn and Andann quickly sheath their swords and moved toward the trail home, both fearful of their mother’s wrath crashing on them for being late. Breathing heavy, Phynn looked at Andann and asked, You’re getting super good with the sword, not to mention your skill with your bow. Do you still plan on leaving to fight in the war when you turn 18?

Yeah, that’s the plan Phynn, replied Andann.

Don’t suppose I could convince you to stay, huh? sighed Phynn.

Phynn, you know I gotta do it, said Andann while clasping the white stallion around his neck. I need to do it...for them.

The duo entered the village Glistenwood, named after the forest, through the west side. They crossed the cobblestone bridge that arched over the slow creek that flowed next to town. The smell of burning firewood filled their nostrils. The pounding hammer of the local blacksmith working on his next project struck with precision and consistency as they passed. Children ran around them, the sounds of their laughter encompassed the minds of Phynn and Andann and reminded them of a simpler time before the devastation of war started knocking on the door of the southern parts of Laescria, the Kingdom of Man.

War had engulfed the southern portions of the continent. The Beast races of the southern continent, Ogiodlar, had unified under one banner known as the Concordat of the Fallen and began a brutal campaign to invade and take lands from the Four Kingdoms of Cavariel. The armies of men, elf, gnome and dwarf had been fighting long and hard for twelve years to protect their homes and loved ones. The motivations of the Ogiodlari armies were not clear at the time but their ferocity had left a shadow across the entirety of Cavariel.

Phynn and Andann, realizing that neither of them would survive the night if they showed up at home without the herbs and spices their mother called for, approached the humble hut of the local Alchemist’s shop. The wooden frame and grass roof accentuated the lower status of the owner. Andann knocked on the ashen front door. It swung open and they were greeted by the smile and grace of brunette hair, a little disheveled, and soft brown eyes, glowing with a golden reflection from the candle light from inside. Phynnaes and Andann. Good to see you, come on in, said the teenage girl.

Hey Myrabel, said Phynn in a sheepish manner as they stepped in,

We’re here to...uh...pick up those herbs your mother has prepared for us. Myrabel smiled and went to grab her mother. Phynn admired the slender girl. He loved the way her long hair swayed as she walked, her glowing tan skin, and the way her green eyes shimmered in all light. Andann took a quick glance at Phynn and smirked. He gave Phynn an elbow in the arm and winked with a little laugh.

Oh shut up, said Phynn.

Andann snickered again and said, I think she likes you, nudging him once more in the arm.

I said shut up, whispered Phynn as he started shoving and hitting Andann.

Andann laughed and Phynn got more defensive, though secretly enjoying the teasing. They continued this until their roughhousing was interrupted by a soft, older voice.

Oh, you boys, always being boys, said Mrs. Laeghtflow, Myrabel’s mother. She was an accomplished alchemist. Aged about forty years, she still had life in her. She reached for a bag of herbs and said, Here you boys go. She handed them the sack. You two should visit more often. Ever since my husband left to fight in the war, Myrabel and I have been starved for company and we much enjoy your visits.

Myrabel caught a glimpse of a large scrape on Phynn’s arm. Phynn saw her staring and felt a rush of warmth flood his face. Got the life kicked out of you by Andann again, eh Phynn? Lucky for you, my mom has been teaching me a little healing alchemy.

Phynn replied, What? No, I...uh...fell onto some rocks.

Right… snickered Andann, nudging Phynn again.

Myrabel laughed and pulled a bottle with a viscous, red liquid off a nearby shelf. This oughta help.

She grabbed a white cloth and poured a couple drops of the liquid onto it, turning the off-white into a deep red. She reached for Phynn’s hand, who began to blush even more. She placed the cloth on his wound and Phynn winced for a moment but the burn quickly turned into a cool, soothing feeling, Myrabel spoke, This potion, made with extract of whiteshade grass, the ground root of the meelail tree and a little powered elk antler, can quickly heal most any surface injury.

She pulled the fabric off and the wound was gone. She kept her hand on Phynn’s arm for a moment before pulling away. Mrs. Laeghtflow said, She learns quickly. Myrabel, we should let our friends leave now, their mother is waiting.

Myrabel looked at Phynn and said, If Andann beats you up again, please let me know so I can watch. With a smile and a wave, they all parted ways.

Myrabel and her mother had moved into town when Phynn was hardly in his fourth year. From the moment he met her, he was transfixed by the girl. She was two months his senior and they became the best of friends. The past few months, Phynn couldn’t help but feel like Myrabel was starting to see him as he saw her. It was exciting to him but he lacked the confidence and courage to take any further steps. The shared affection was incredibly obvious to Andann and Mrs. Laeghtflow.

The duo closed the door to the Laeghtflow home and began their march toward their own. The sun had dipped entirely behind the Haffehar mountains, The sky faded to a deep purple speckled with white dots as stars began to appear. Twilight. They passed by the local Chapel of the Sun. The building was humble in design, timbers stacked vertically on a stone base made for sturdy walls but there was always something elegant in its simplicity to Phynn. There had been a faint blue glow coming from the inside of the main hall from the glowlanterns, shining through the rather large windows for as long as Phynn could remember. He and his family hadn’t set foot into it since his father went to war. An older man walked out of the large doors which stood on top of a small staircase. He was in a white robe, trimmed in gold which swirled around the sleeves and all the gold met in the center over his chest in the shape of the sun. The robe draped far past his feet and trailed behind him. He had a long gray beard underneath his aged eyes.

How are you boys doing today? said Sun Priest Michaelin. Phynn and Andann stopped and turned toward the elder individual as he walked down the steps to meet them. He had a cane in his left hand.

Sunblessed as always, it’s good to see you Sun Priest, said Andann, reaching his hand toward the sun totem on top of the church.

A customary greeting for the Alorian faith, one would lift their right hand toward