The Towers

Copyright (C) 1997 by Charles Tryon


9: A Visit in the Night

GreyEagle returned to her room, but though she was exhausted, the events of the evening still troubled her, and she couldn't sleep. For a while, she nervously busied herself, polishing her armor and sharpening her sword, trying to push aside the troubles of the day, but her heart wasn't in it. She knew too that she was just trying to keep her mind off of Schimray, alternating between anger, sorrow, confusion and longing. Finally, she gave up and undressed to go to bed, but sleep still eluded her as she kept going back in her mind to the evening they had spent together a month ago. After a time, she finally drifted off to a fitful sleep.
She was awakened by a quiet knock at her door. She quickly got up and pulled her cloak around herself, struggling to push the sleep from her eyes. She paused for a moment and then grabbed her long dagger and held it under her cloak.
"Who is there?" she cautiously whispered through the door before opening it.
"It is I, Schimray," the voice came back.
GreyEagle's heart leapt to her throat at the sound of the voice. The voice was Schimray's, but somehow it was different, though she could not decide what the difference was. Nervously, she drew back the bolt on the door and carefully opened it. She nearly dropped the dagger to the floor as she saw the figure standing there in the dim light.
It was Schimray who stood before her, but somehow the years had been stripped away from his frame. Gone were the lines in his face and the weary bend in his back. He stood there smiling at her while she stared. She didn't know what to say, and stood there as if her feet had been nailed to the floor.
"May I come in, my love?" Schimray asked finally, breaking the silence.
"But... How..." GreyEagle fumbled. Coming back to her senses suddenly, she realized that she was making him stand there. She blushed, and opened the door the rest of the way, motioning for him to enter. Schimray quickly slipped through the door, and GreyEagle closed and bolted it behind him. He pulled the chair up to the side of the bed and motioned for her to sit too. GreyEagle sat down slowly on the edge of the bed, carefully studying him in the dim light.
What had he done? She was gripped with a sudden wild fear as she clenched the dagger still hidden beneath her cloak. Was it truly Schimray, or some demon playing a cruel trick on her? She was tempted to jump and snatch up her sword. Or, was it really Schimray? If so, what kind of power did he posses? The blood pounded in her ears and she thought that her heart would burst from her chest.
"I can see you have many questions to ask me," Schimray chuckled quietly, and at the familiar sound of his voice, GreyEagle's fears began to subside. "But first I would like to hear your account of what has gone on over the last month. I will however, assure you of this much before we begin - I am the same man as before and," he took her hand in his and looked deeply into her eyes, "every word I said to you before is still true. I want you now to trust me as I trust you."
Trust, she thought incredulously! He does this and wants me to trust him? She closed her eyes and swallowed hard, calling to memory the face she had known before, old and tired, but with eyes which spoke of life and love. Slowly, fearfully, she opened her eyes again. Yes, she thought as she looked into the eyes of the man across from her, they were the same. The face and body were different, but the eyes were Schimray's. Slowly, her fear of him slipped away and her heart slowed to a reasonable pace once more.
"Oh Schimray," she began, her voice full of strain as the tried to piece the events of the evening back together, "we had a terrible confrontation over supper tonight after you left. Sucaba said that he thought his dragon should share in the treasure just as the rest of us. I thought it not such an unreasonable request, and most of the others, while they did not all agree, at least they didn't become angry. But then, the silent one... From the look in their eyes, I thought they might try to kill each other on the spot. The silent one spoke through a huge rat, a filthy, disgusting creature, insulting us and saying that it had done more than we had at the tower, though the silent one made it come back and swallow some of its words. I held my tongue, fearing that I would only make things worse. I'm so glad you came tonight so that I could speak with you."
Schimray held up his hand to stem the flood of words. He was silent for a long time before he went on. "This is a group full of strong egos. I had feared that something like this might happen, but had hoped that perhaps we could avoid it. No matter. I will deal with the others, my love. You were wise to keep out of their way." He sat back in his chair and his eyes looked far away. For a long time, he said nothing.
GreyEagle began to think back to all that had happened since they had last left Arabel. She suddenly realized that she was still clutching her dagger under her robe. She felt the blood rise to her face as she tried to discretely pull it out and place it on the stand next to her bed. Schimray smiled at her.
"You do well to be cautious - it may save you in the future. But, enough of that for now. Tell me the story of your travels please, and in particular, your impressions of the others. You must be my eyes and ears for a time."
GreyEagle went back to the beginning of the journey and described the fight with the kobolds as they had passed through the Stonelands, and the spear which had bounced off her chest. She watched Schimray closely to see if he gave any indication that he might have some knowledge of what was behind this, however, Schimray just smiled and nodded his head. This did not satisfy her curiosity over the matter, but she let it pass. She recounted what had happened with Trouble and the silent one when they questioned the kobolds, shivering once again as she recalled the looks on their faces.
A dark look crossed Schimray's face. "Do not fool with Trouble or the silent one," he warned her. "The silent one especially has a power you cannot cope with. Sucaba will generally do as I tell him, so you need not worry about him." GreyEagle paused momentarily. Sucaba was loud, pushy and sometimes obnoxious. Yet, he was a threat which was visible, out in the open. She could deal with him. It was the others, moving quietly, never letting anyone know their thoughts, that she had to be careful of.
"Schimray, a raven came to me while I was away from the others one morning. I saw it a number of times after that, and thought that it was watching me. Did you send the raven?" she asked shyly, "Were you there watching me? I felt as if it knew me."
"I did not sent the raven," said Schimray, "but I knew of its existence. Someone else sent it in hopes that you would take to it and perhaps expose some terrible secret about me." An easy smile crossed his face and he leaned towards her. "As I have no terrible secrets," he said, his eyes twinkling in amusement, "you need not fear the raven. Indeed, make friends with it if you can. It may provide us with possible clues to its master." GreyEagle paused. Who might have sent the raven, and how would Schimray have known about it? Her head began to spin considering the powers which were swirling around her.
GreyEagle sighed and continued with her report. She told Schimray of the unrelenting heat of the desert and the problems with finding water. She recounted the party with the chitterlings, laughing again at their antics and how the others had dealt with them. She paused for a time, relishing the memory.
"I saved some of the stones they gave me, to remember them by."
Suddenly Schimray laughed, a clear, pure, peaceful laugh, one which cleared the air of darkness and hostility.
"Why do you laugh?" she asked hotly.
"At you, my dear, and at me."
"What?"
Schimray stopped suddenly, but his eyes still shone. "I see so much greed in the world, and sometimes I forget that some are motivated by other things than gold. Well, I am glad that you have found some joy on your mission. I can see from your eyes that you have encountered much that has been difficult or painful, and I do not wish to see you sad." He reached out and touched her cheek tenderly. GreyEagle blushed, but Schimray laughed once again, and it quickly set her heart at rest and she laughed with him.
She paused, remembering Schimray's warning to her about Trouble. "I am not sure if I did the right thing," she said fearfully, "but I traded a magical scroll and wand with Trouble, for a pair of eye pieces which give me the far reaching sight of an eagle."
Schimray leaned back slowly in his chair, thinking for a moment. "Hummm. A useful trade in both cases, but I think Trouble took advantage of you. Still these eyes will be very helpful." He looked at her closely. "Consider your trades very carefully, my dear, and be especially careful when trading with any of the mages."
GreyEagle swallowed hard. "How am I to judge? I know so little of magic and spells."
"You know more than you realize. Examine your heart carefully and it will tell you." GreyEagle was not sure she was convinced, but she was relieved that he had not become angry with her.
She went on to tell him how they had sighted the tower, and how Sucaba had scouted it out. Her heart once again rose to her throat as she remembered the battle and the prisoners, and how they had been unable to save the man and boy before the orcs had slit their throats. Schimray reached out and took her hand as tears clouded her vision. She paused a moment to regain her composure.
After a time she was able to continue. "We searched the tower afterwards," she said, wiping away the tears. "There were a number of orc bodies there, dead, but without any wound or other sign of how they had died. I feared that it might be a sign of activity by the dark creature of which you spoke, but this evening, that insolent rat belonging to the silent mage claimed that he had killed them."
Schimray frowned. "Yes, the mage is indeed responsible through his little helper. You will not encounter the creature of which I spoke for some time yet. Fortunately, it does not know of your existence yet, though it is beginning to be aware of mine."
In her mind, GreyEagle could see a great shadow arising, like the darkness before a gathering storm. For the first time that she could remember, she began to truly fear for Schimray. She had thought often of the possibility that she could be killed in a battle, but she had never really taken seriously the danger which Schimray faced. Her heart was gripped with a sudden coldness and she felt anew the urgency of their mission.
"It is a difficult group for me to control," Schimray went on, "but I will have to put an end to this bickering. There will be hell to pay for anyone who sheds blood within the group. You are to work together in spite of your differences." A deep furry boiled inside of Schimray, but with some difficulty, he controlled his temper. He leaned back again in his chair and sighed. "But go on with what you were telling me, my beauty, and I will take care of other business later."
She hesitated for a moment. "We found a magical star there, along with a few potions. It had twelve points, like the number of the towers. On the top floor, there were a number of depressions in the walls which matched the star. Sucaba assured us that it was a key to teleport to the other towers, but we were not able to unlock how it was to be used. There was quite an argument over what we should do with it." She hesitated, wondering how Schimray would take news of yet another argument among those in the party. "Sucaba and I thought it was a part of tower, and should be returned to you," she said in a rush. "The others wanted to keep it themselves as part of the treasure. Schimray, the look in Sucaba's eyes frightened me. I thought that he would do something terrible. I knew how strongly he felt about returning the star to you, and I thought he would stop at nothing to make sure you received it. The silent one has it now. I told Sucaba that he should fly ahead to tell you about the star before we arrived, though I do not know what he has done this."
"Yes," Schimray said slowly, "I have already heard of the star from Sucaba, and yes, it is part of the tower, but I did not make that clear enough before. There were a total of twelve stars at one time, but I do not know how many of them may have survived the ages, or if they are still in the towers." He paused for a moment to consider. "I will have to make it clear that the stars are to be considered part of the towers from now on." He smiled deviously. "This will not sit so well with some I am sure, but I believe that suitable arrangements can be made."
GreyEagle was not sure she was so confident. She was still deeply troubled by the confrontation over supper, and afraid that it might split the party up, or worse. She is not even sure at this point if, when they finally came face to face with the dark creature, all of the members of the party will even fight against it. Some, particularly the silent mage and perhaps even Trouble, might turn on them at the critical moment. She looked to Schimray for reassurance.
"Once we were finished cleaning out the tower, we decided to escort the remaining prisoners back to Arabel," GreyEagle continued. "Sucaba and Trouble were not too thrilled with the idea, but they went along. Sucaba locked the tower by some force, but he assured me that you would be able to get through."
"I provided Sucaba with the scroll to lock the tower," Schimray said in a matter of fact tone. "It was passed to me from my master. There are twelve scrolls and Sucaba is to lock each tower as you finish. Once the scroll has been read, no one except my master can unlock them." GreyEagle recalled the flash and the gleam in Sucaba's eye as he had read the scroll, and she wondered if the mage understood the extent of the power he was so flippantly making use of.
"We ran out of food before we reached the end of the desert, but Sucaba and Horton were able to hunt for us, so we did not go hungry." She didn't mention the fact that they had been slowed down considerably by the presence of the prisoners.
Schimray stood and crossed to the window. "Yes, Horton..." he said quietly. "He may be another problem. He has become a little greedy, as you may have guessed after dinner. I have already spoken with him, and was able to influence him somewhat, so that he will continue to provide service to Sucaba, but he is anxious to start his own hoard so he can attract a mate." GreyEagle was surprised at Schimray's concern over Horton's status in the group. She had considered the dragon to be a useful member of the party but it seemed that more was going on beyond the scene than she had at first thought.
"After this," she concluded with a shrug, "we continued home without incident."
He sat down again opposite her and smiled tenderly. "You have done well, all of you. Now, it is good to see all of you back again, especially you. I have missed you."
GreyEagle looked down and suddenly remembered that she was hardly dressed. She had put on a light night slip before, and had grabbed her cloak when answering the door, but she had become warm as she talked, and at some point during her tale, had let it slip from her shoulders. Her eyes shot up to meet with Schimray's in the dim light, wide open and suddenly uncertain. She had hardly thought about his young face as she had spoken with him, she was so absorbed in her memories of the past month. Now she looked at him again, and when his eyes met hers, something inside of her melted, just as it had the first night she had spoken with him. She could feel her control slipping away. A small voice within her shouted that she shouldn't trust him, that she didn't know him, and that he would only hurt her if she did, but the voice grew fainter and fainter with every passing second, drowned out by the flood of other feelings which now spun around her. Something in him had touched her as no one else had touched her before.
She reached up to the cord which bound her hair in the long braid and slowly undid it. As she shook out her hair, it fell in deep black waves which cascaded down around her face and shoulders. Looking up into Schimray's eyes, she silently slipped into his lap and leaned over to burry her face in his shoulder, feeling his strength and breathing in the smells of his body. Schimray folded his arms around her and held her close. With one hand, he tenderly reached up and gently ran it through her hair.
Suddenly something within GreyEagle snapped like a bow string pulled too tight. The tiny voice within her had been almost silenced, but now it screamed hideously. Images flooded in upon her, threatening to sweep her away. The face of one she had trusted and loved, the joy of being together. Suddenly the joy turned to horror and fear, emotions out of control, groping hands, pleas to stop to no avail, pain, shame, breaking free, running, running into the blackness of night. Suddenly she remembered turning around. She had not known why, but a sudden new fear gripped her, telling her to return.
Then the memory of the face returned, only this time it was twisted in death, etched into her memory as if she were looking at it again at her feet, lifeless, staring up at the sky as the sun sent its first tentative rays to sweep away the night. The two orc bodies were there too, their blood soaking the ground. Suddenly, all she could see was the blood. It was her fault, she knew. She hadn't been there when he had needed her, when the orcs had come, and now it was too late.
She burst out of Schimray's arms and fell trembling to the floor as the memories tumbled over her. It was her own fault. She could have saved him, and he would not have died. But she had been frightened of him, ashamed, and angry. She had run away from the sight, and had never returned.
As she lay on the floor, her body racked with sobs, Schimray knelt down beside her and reached out to touch her, but she recoiled from him in horror, her mind still filled with the demons of her memory. She would lose him too, the voice screamed at her. She would do something foolish and be the cause of his death, just as she had been before. It was her curse. Her only hope was to stay away, to keep her heart locked up in the tiny box she had kept it in for so long.
Schimray quickly backed away, but then slowly, he reached out his hand to her again, his palm open and his voice soft. "Come back my love, back from the edge of the pit," he called to her softly. "Tell me what spirits of the night haunt you." As GreyEagle looked up at him, finding his eyes once more, his voice wrapped itself around her and the nightmare slowly began to subside, gradually creeping back into the dark corner from whence it had come, hiding there just beyond sight.
"Please," she whispered to him, "please tell me you will never, never leave me."
"I will always be here for you GreyEagle," he said, whispering into her ear. "It is you who must decide to leave or to return."
"Please hold me. Do no more. I just need to know that you are there."
Schimray picked her limp form from the floor and cradled her in his arms, as he would a small child. "I am here for you." He carefully wiped her tears with a soft handkerchief and pushed aside the hair which had fallen across her face in tangled strands. He tenderly nestled her head against his shoulder, and rocked her gently.
He was silent for a long time before he spoke once again. "I could read sorrow in your face from the moment I saw you," he whispered. "Tell me what is troubling you."
GreyEagle did not answer right away. She was still tense, afraid to risk bringing into the light the demon which had followed her so long. However, after a long time, she heaved a deep, shuddering sigh, one which came from the very depths of her being, from a part of her which had remained hidden for too many years.
"I trusted him," she told Schimray, her voice almost too quiet to be heard. "He was older than I, but we had grown up together. Whenever the older boys gave me a hard time, he chased them off, as if he was my older brother looking after me. We spent many days and nights together in the wilderness looking after the sheep, sometimes with others, sometimes just the two of us. I always felt safe with him."
"Then, one night, something happened. He started to kiss me, and when I told him to stop, he refused. He was stronger than me, and then he started to hurt me. I screamed and cried, but still he wouldn't stop. Somehow, I managed to break away from him and I ran off into the night."
"I don't know how long I ran, but suddenly my heart was filled with a dread such as I had never known before. Deep within me I knew I had to return, but with every step, the dread became greater until I reached where he was."
GreyEagle stopped and buried her face in her hands. Once again the sobs tore her body. "It was my fault. I knew it was my fault. When I found him, he was lying there with his face to the sky, dead, his dagger still clenched in his hand. The bodies of two orcs were there too. The sheep were scattered. It must have been a band of orcs who had attacked right after I left him. If I had been there, the two of us could have driven them off, but I had run away when he needed me."
GreyEagle lay there, her head hanging, every ounce of strength gone from her body. "I ran home, not knowing what to do," she whispered. "By the time I arrived, everyone was already out of the house with the early chores, so I quickly went in, gathered a few of my things, and fled without leaving so much as a note as to where I was going. I guess I didn't even know myself where I was headed at that point."
"I have never returned."
Schimray gently took her chin and turned her head so that he was looking into her eyes. "Who killed him, you or the orcs."
GreyEagle looked up at him, confused. "The orcs did."
"Yet, you blame yourself, as if you had done it."
"But it was my fault," she protested. "I should have been there."
"And then, you too would have died?" GreyEagle began to protest, but Schimray gently touched his finger to her lips. "It is past, and no amount of wringing of hands may change that. Now, you live. How many others must face what you have faced, or can you bring life to them? What of the prisoners you released from the clutches of the orcs? There are many Amelias who need you."
"But..."
"There comes a time when you must turn your back on the past," Schimray interrupted. "Learn from it, yes, but do not allow yourself to be its slave."
GreyEagle nodded weakly. She was totally spent now, and her eyelids slipped closed. She fell into a deep sleep cradled in Schimray's arms, untroubled by dreams.
Schimray was silent as he held GreyEagle. After a long time, he gently lifted her to her bed and tucked her in, tenderly arranging her black hair to frame her face against the pillow. Pulling a piece of paper from an inner pocket, he quickly wrote a note and carefully tucked it into her hand, softly kissing her forehead. He stood there for a moment, gazing at her face.
"Perhaps now the back of the demon which haunted you has been broken," he whispered. "Now, I must deal with my own demon." Suddenly, he stooped a second time and kissed her lips. Then he turned and quietly slipped from the room.
Next...

7 April, 1998