The Lost Tower Read online

  The Lost Tower

  Whispers of Darkness Book 1

  Eric Martinez

  Laurie Starkey

  Michael Anderle

  BrixBaxter Publishing

  Contents

  Description

  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

  Epilogue

  Continue the Saga

  Author Note

  About Seven Sons

  About The Author

  Copyright

  Description

  Laws are made for those who follow them, and those that believe in them.

  Persephone is neither one.

  Having rejected her family’s legacy, she set out to make her own future—ancient laws be damned.

  Unfortunately, Persephone’s risky decisions might do her in. After she’s caught and forced to choose between two horrible options, she must come to grips with her reckless ways.

  Or suffer forever.

  Now, she must either hunt down an evil spell book, requiring her to recruit an exiled necromancer and head into a tower even her reckless self doesn’t think is a good idea—or she will be banished from her homeland forever.

  If she chooses to try the impossible, will she survive? Or will those who want her gone get what their hearts desire?

  Persephonemay be reckless, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have what it takes when she needs to dig deep.

  Chapter 1

  Persephone wasn’t dead yet, but the day was far from over.

  Her cart swerved through the withered forest at a jarring pace. The dusty, uneven ground jolted the wagon hard enough to make her bones rattle, but she didn’t dare slow down.

  The stormbirds were after her, and they were pissed.

  Dark, angry clouds gathered overhead, heralding their approach. Thunder rumbled in the distance, or was it the beating of their monstrous wings?

  Before she could hazard a backward glance to find out, a gnarled gray tree trunk seemed to materialize out of nowhere in front of her. Persephone yanked the reins, and the massive lizard pulling the cart skidded to the left, narrowly avoiding a nasty collision.

  She heard a meaty thump behind her, followed by a yelp of pain.

  “Watch the damn road, Sephi,” Echo Green said, trying to straighten her crooked goggles.

  Persephone flashed a quick grin toward her friend. “What road?”

  Echo scowled at her, annoyed by how much Sephi seemed to be enjoying herself. “You know what I mean. Slow down, dammit!”

  Sephi laughed and focused on the obstacles ahead of them. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  A jagged fork of blue lightning sizzled through the air beside the cart, followed by a booming thunderclap. A spray of rocks and dirt pelted Sephi, and she blinked quickly to clear the grit from her eyes.

  More lightning rained down around her, and thunder shattered the sky. It was a good thing the birds had shitty aim.

  “Go faster, dammit!” Echo shouted over her ringing ears.

  “Make up your mind already.” Sephi lifted her right hand and sketched a delicate, glowing symbol in the air. It flashed gold and then soared past the lizard’s head, racing toward the base of the mountain range looming in the distance.

  The buru lizard, who Sephi had named Princess, lifted its head and sniffed at the air. The spell had worked.

  “Hold on, my little sidekick!” Sephi called.

  “Screw you,” Echo said. “I’m not your damn side—”

  The buru kicked up its speed, knocking over Echo and cutting off her complaint. The illusion had taken effect, causing the scent of raw bloody meat—Princess’s favorite snack—to appear in the direction they needed to go. She was eager to find the source of the smell.

  Poor Princess would be devastated when she realized there was no stinking carcass at the end of the trail. Her sullen reptilian expression at being tricked always made Sephi feel like a jerk. She made a mental note to give Princess a double ration of meat, extra bloody, when they got back home to the Undershadow.

  If they got back to the Undershadow.

  Echo cursed profusely as she banged against the wooden slats of the cart, trying to regain her balance.

  “How are the eggs back there?” Sephi asked, glancing back.

  Echo looked down at the crate beside her which held over a dozen melon-sized eggs wrapped in straw and blankets. The wooden planks had arcane sigils etched into them. She ran her fingers lovingly over the designs that she had created.

  “They’re safer back here than I am,” she said. “And I’m fine, by the way.”

  “Don’t pout,” Sephi said. “If those eggs break, this was all for nothing.”

  Echo pulled herself out of the back of the cart to sit beside Sephi. “The eggs are replaceable. My head isn’t.”

  Sephi grinned at her. “Easy for you to say. You weren’t the one wading knee-deep in stormbird shit to get them.”

  “To steal them, you mean,” Echo said, giving her a condemning look.

  Sephi shrugged. “If it’s any consolation, I doubt the stormbirds have any concept of ownership.”

  Echo looked back over her shoulder. “So, I suppose they just want to have a cup of tea and chat about the weather? They’re not chasing us to get their babies back.”

  “I did not steal their babies,” Sephi said. “I only took the unfertilized ones.”

  “Sure, this time,” Echo said. “But who knows how far you’ll go if Bobby asks?”

  Sephi spared a glance at her friend. “Well, you’re a ray of fucking sunshine today.”

  Echo glared back, her blue eyes magnified behind the thick lenses of her goggles, secured to her head with a leather strap. Her black hair rippled in the wind like swirling smoke.

  “I’ll be more pleasant when we’re out of Tartarus and murderbirds aren’t lobbing thunderbolts at my head.”

  “Don’t worry about the lightning,” Sephi said, smiling to shake off Echo’s bad mood. “Worry about their giant talons. They could rip through bone and flesh with hardly any effort, and honestly, they rarely miss with those things.”

  Echo’s eyes widened. Then she crossed her arms over her chest and slumped down in the seat. “I hate you. I really do.”

  Sephi laughed. “Fair enough, but maybe you could, you know, reach into that satchel of yours and use one of your fancy bombs to get the stormbirds off our ass.”

  “Unlike you, my magic is weak in Tartarus,” Echo said. “When it even works. Which is why it’s forbidden for us to come here!”

  “Right,” Sephi said, nodding. “Remind me, Echo. Why do I bother bringing you along at all?”

  Echo snorted a laugh and rolled her eyes. “By all means, leave me out of your half-baked schemes next time. I could be at home with a cup of tea, reading about Agrippa’s divine letters.”

  “Holy shit, do you hear yourself?” Sephi asked, shaking her head. “Are you eighteen or eighty? Well, fear not, old woman. I’ll save us. Just take the reins for me and try hard not to lose your teeth.”

  Persephone passed the reins to Echo and hopped deftly into t
he back of the cart. For the first time, she got a good look at their pursuers. Five enormous ash-colored birds swooped down in her direction, almost invisible against the gray sky.

  They were closer than she expected. She hoped she wasn’t too late.

  Taking a deep breath, she exhaled slowly and let all the distractions drain from her mind like the air flowed from her lungs. This spell required total concentration, which was difficult when trying to keep her balance on the back of a bouncing wagon.

  She pictured the wagon in her mind, focusing on every little detail. The way the back left wheel wobbled on the axle. The pink stargazer lilies Echo had painted on the wooden seat. The shifting patterns of Princess’s iridescent scales.

  When Sephi had the image solidified in her mind, she spoke the incantation softly but firmly, and she wove complicated glyphs in the air with both hands. The spidery lines pulsed with coalescing power.

  Sephi always loved this part of spellcasting, that moment before, when she felt the living energy of the world flowing from the reservoir inside her, charged with possibilities.

  When she uttered the final word of her spell, the symbols tangled together, flared brightly like a falling star, and burst forth in a glowing shower of color. The world folded over on itself, everything appearing like she was looking at it through a triple-faced mirror.

  Three identical versions of her cart appeared in front of her, each heading in a different direction. Left, right, and straight behind. She saw the wobbly wheels, the painted lilies, and the shifting scales.

  In the back of each cart was a mirror image of herself. Their flame red hair tumbled around their shoulders as they all waved back at her. It was a totally unnecessary addition to the illusion, but it made her smile, so she included it. What was the point of being an illusionist if she couldn’t add a little flair to her creations?

  A chorus of shrieks split the sky as the stormbirds reacted to this unexpected development. As she’d hoped, they didn’t seem to know which cart was the real one. They were mean, but dumb.

  Four of the birds split off to chase the phantom wagons, leaving just one bird of prey still in pursuit.

  Unfortunately, one stormbird was more than enough to ruin Sephi’s day.

  She stumbled backward and banged against the wooden seat. Her limbs felt weak and watery, and her eyelids drooped with the need to sleep. The spell she’d cast was near the upper limits of her abilities. Even though illusion spells were her specialty, it had drained her deeply. Sephi didn’t have much magic left.

  The bird swooped toward the cart with its wings back, plummeting fast. Sephi glanced over her shoulder at the mountains. They were almost to the secret tunnel leading back into the Cradle, but almost wouldn’t cut it.

  Sephi reached out and grabbed the side of the cart to steady herself. The stormbird was coming in at an angle that would intercept them before they could slip away into the hidden passage back home. Sephi needed to do something quickly.

  There was no time for finesse. No time for something flashy like the mirrored copies of the wagon. She barked the words and formed the necessary symbols, but halfway through the spell, she was out of power.

  Her well had run dry, and it would take at least a day for it to refill. Sephi couldn’t afford to wait that long. Her only other option was something dangerous. Something reckless. Something totally irresponsible that all mages were explicitly told never to do.

  She drew directly from the living energy around her.

  Her skin ignited with white-hot fire, starting at the tattoo between her shoulder blades and spreading through the angular lines that branched out from it. Somehow, she managed not to scream as the flames seared her skin. She finished the spell, and a black cloud erupted from her hands and wrapped itself around the bird’s head, blinding it.

  Unable to see, the stormbird veered off course in a panic, and it tumbled to the ground, crashing through dead trees and kicking up a cloud of bone-colored dust. She’d done it. She and Echo were safe. Sephi smiled with grim satisfaction.

  Then she screamed.

  Sephi awoke to a cool, soothing sensation spreading across her back. Echo continued daubing the salve over Sephi’s injured skin. “Welcome back from the almost dead,” her friend said.

  Sephi lay face down in the back of the cart. Her cheek was pressed against the smoothly sanded wood. The air had a musty, mildewy smell to it, and when Sephi pried her eyes open, the world was lit with spectral blue light, provided by Echo’s enchanted lantern.

  She tried to push herself up, but Echo’s gentle hand held her in place. Sephi was so weak, it was enough to subdue her.

  “Hold still,” Echo said. “I’m not done.”

  “What happened?” Sephi didn’t like how feeble her voice sounded in her own ears.

  “You acted like a moron,” Echo said. “That’s what happened.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific,” Sephi said.

  Echo’s chuckle reverberated through the surrounding gloom. “Fair point. That last spell almost killed you. Do you really not remember?”

  Sephi shook her head, and pain lanced through her body, making her groan. “Things are a little hazy. I cast a simple darkness spell, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah,” Echo said. “Simple, except you were out of magic. You pulled directly from the source instead of letting your reserves refill naturally and drawing from that. You nearly burned out your connection.”

  Panic seized Sephi then. “Nearly? Are you sure?”

  “Relax. Your tattoo still has some color. You didn’t cut yourself off from the magic. It’ll just take some time to recharge.”

  As her fear dissipated, Sephi could tell Echo was right. She could feel a thin trickle of magic seeping into her, painfully slowly, one drop at a time. Her magical reserve was like a puddle at the bottom of a dried-out lake, but the power would replenish itself.

  If she had burned herself out, the connection would have been severed, and she’d be cut off from the magic altogether. It was a fate worse than death for a mage, to know the rapturous feeling of the magical energy flowing through you but to never be able to experience it again. It would be like never seeing the sun again.

  The mere thought of it shook her to the core. Sephi vowed to herself right then that she would never again risk burning herself out. Never again would she be that reckless with her gift.

  “I’m worried about these wounds, though,” Echo said, her lips pulling down at the corners a little.

  “Yeah, what’s the deal with that? Did the fucking stormbird get me?” Sephi lifted up and tried to turn her head, but the pain stopped her.

  “Not quite,” Echo mumbled. “It was the magic. I’ve only read about this before, but it looks like the raw living energy was too much for your body to handle. It scorched your focal lines.”

  She meant the angular, geometrical patterns that spread out from the tattoo on Sephi’s back. Made by grinding sapphires into dust and magically infusing it into the skin, it gave her access to magic. The focal lines were a physical manifestation of her magical power. The stronger and more experienced a mage was, the more the focal lines spread and the more intricate the arcane geometry became.

  Most mages wore clothing that hid their focal lines. The lines showed how powerful a magic user was, but they also revealed how much magical energy a mage had stored up. Brightly glowing focal lines meant their reservoir was full. Faded, dusky lines meant they were dry.

  Sephi was sure the focal lines on her back were muted and dull at the moment. “How bad is the damage?”

  “This salve should help, but we should have a White Brother look at you when we get back.”

  Sephi groaned. “I hate those guys. So self-righteous and superior. They’re like, ‘We’ll heal you, but we’ll look down our noses at you while we do it.’”

  “Come on,” Echo said, laughing. “They’re not that bad. They’ve devoted themselves to helping people, to atone for the Sin of the First Magic
.”

  Sephi snorted. “You sound like one of them now. Thinking of going White, Ms. Green?”

  “Of course not, Ms. Blue. Not that we can switch between Families.”

  Persephone sat up, ignoring the stinging in her back. She looked at her friend, whose face was pale in the cool blue glow of the lantern. “The Five Families are bullshit anyway. I’ve got all the family I need right here.”

  A warm smile spread over Echo’s face. “Aww, that’s sweet.”

  “I’m talking about Princess, of course,” Sephi said, getting to her feet and shrugging her shirt back on.

  Echo’s grinned widened. “Of course.”

  Sephi gave Echo’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze as she walked past and eased her way out of the cart.

  “Now, let’s get the hell out of these tunnels and go home.”

  When they emerged from the tunnel, the floating city came into view. The Citadel hovered a thousand feet above the ground, stalwart and unmoving. The sun dipped toward the western horizon behind the city’s three spiral arms, which branched out from a central hub.

  The Bronze Spiral with its gleaming towers and minarets. The Crystal Spiral with its polished gemstone buildings of impossible size. And the Vitan Spiral, filled with enormous trees taken from the ancient land of the Elves and fashioned into a well manicured garden of natural beauty.

  The sunlight cast the Risewater in a golden glow. The river wound its way along the valley floor, but when the water neared the Citadel, some powerful enchantment forced the river up from the ground like a reverse waterfall. It thundered up into the sky until it reached the floating city above. There, it split off into canals that snaked through the Citadel before plunging down off the other side and continuing its path on the ground like a normal river.