The sentinel tower sat on top of a rocky bluff dotted with stubby bristlecones that grew among large talus boulders. The nearer side of the outcropping was a sheer, impassable cliff, so Nathan worked his way around to the bluff’s more accommodating side, where he discovered a worn path wide enough for three men to walk abreast … or for warhorses to gallop up the slope.
The breezes increased as Nathan broke out of the forest and climbed into the open area around the base of the watchtower. The stone structure was far more imposing than he had first thought, rising high into the open sky. The looming tower was octagonal, its flat sides constructed of enormous quarried blocks. Such a mammoth project would have required either an inexhaustible supply of labor or powerful magic to cut and assemble the blocks like this.
He stopped to catch his breath as he looked across the open terrain. From this high citadel, sentinels would have been able to keep watch for miles in all directions. He wondered if this place had perhaps been built by Emperor Kurgan during the Midwar, and he imagined General Utros himself climbing to this summit from which he could survey the lands he had just conquered.
Nathan heard only an oppressive silence that pressed down around him. He craned his neck to get a view of the top of the single structure, he saw large lookout windows, some of them with the glass intact, while others were shattered. Several of the crenellations had fallen, and large blocks lay strewn around the base like enormous toys.
Nathan called, “Hello, is anyone there?” Any watchers would have seen him approach for the last hour, and a lone man would have been completely vulnerable as he ascended the wide path to the summit. If someone meant to attack him, they had certainly had ample opportunity. He wanted at least to begin the conversation under the auspices of friendship. “Hello?” he called again, but heard only the muttering whispers of wind in and out of the broken windows. Not even birds had taken up residence there.
Despite his uneasiness, Nathan felt the reassuring presence of his sword. He would not try to use magic again, but he reminded himself that he wasn’t helpless if he encountered some threat. He stepped up to the broken tower entrance, where a massive wooden door had fallen off its hinges and lay collapsed just inside the main entry. He braced himself, inhaling deeply. He had promised his companions that he could do this, and he could hardly walk all this way and then be afraid to climb up to see the view.
“I come in peace!” he shouted at the top of his voice, then muttered to himself, “At least until you make me change my mind.”
He stepped over the fallen door and passed under the archway to see another set of doors, iron bars, a portcullis—all of which had been torn asunder and destroyed. The iron bars were uprooted from where they had been seated in the blocks, twisted as if by some supreme force.
Inside the main chamber, wide stone stairs ascended the side wall, running in an octagonal spiral up the interior faces. Five ancient skeletons in long-rotted armor lay broken on the central floor, as if they had fallen off the stairs from a great height.
Though he couldn’t find his Han, didn’t dare try to summon it, he could sense a power inside this watchtower, a throbbing energy as if this structure had been bombarded by the magic of an attacking sorcerer … or maybe it had been saturated with magic by the defenders who tried to save it.
Nathan climbed the stairs and found himself out of breath. Though he was a fit man with travel-conditioned muscles, he was still a thousand years old.
The whistling breezes grew louder as he reached the pinnacle of the watchtower, a wide, empty lookout chamber with an iron-reinforced wooden floor. The ancient planks were petrified. Although parts of the outer walls had broken, the damage did not seem to be due to age. In fact, instead of merely crumbling and falling downward, as would have been caused by gravity, the missing stone blocks had been flung far from the base of the tower … as if blasted outward.
Every wall of the octagonal lookout chamber had an expansive window, which would allow sentinels to watch in all directions. Each such window had been filled with a broad pane of deep red glass. Three of the eight windows had been shattered by time or brute force, and now shards of broken glass protruded from the window frames like crimson daggers. The other five windows were miraculously intact despite their obvious age, which led Nathan to guess that the glass had been enhanced by magic somehow. The wind whispered more loudly, whisking through the broken windows.
Standing in the middle of the open platform, he turned slowly as he tried to determine what had happened here. Sprawled on the iron-hard floor were more skeletons, all clad in ancient armor. Dark stains on the stone wall blocks marked a varnish of blackened blood, and long white grooves seemed to be scratches, as if desperate fingernails had gouged the quarried stone itself.
Nathan walked across the wooden boards, and one plank gave an alarming crack, as if it was about to give way. He instinctively lurched back, and his boot came down on the femur of one of the fallen warriors. Stumbling, he lost his balance, fell into the wall, and reached out to grab for balance.
His hand caught on the open sill of a lookout window where broken red glass protruded. He hissed in pain and pulled back, looking at the deep gash in his palm. Blood oozed out, and he grimaced.
Looking at the blood, he muttered, “It would be such a simple task to heal myself if I had magic.” He was embarrassed by his clumsiness even though he was alone. Now he would have to bind the gash and wait until Nicci could take care of the wound.
Just then he realized that the sound of the wind had taken on an odd character. The tower itself thrummed with a deep vibration. A bright, scarlet light increased inside the observation room, throbbing from the splash of blood Nathan had left behind.
The five intact red panes began to glow.
CHAPTER 29
Continuing down the path, Nicci moved through the forest, and Bannon hurried after her. “Don’t worry, Sorceress, I can keep up. A woman traveling alone on an empty trail might attract trouble, but if any dangerous men see me and my sword, they will think twice before they harass you.”
She turned her cool gaze on him. “You’ve seen what I can do. Do you doubt my ability to take care of any problem that might arise?”
“Oh, I know about your powers, Sorceress—but others may not. Just having me here with a sharp blade”—he patted his sword—“is sure to prevent problems. The best way out of a difficult situation is to make sure it doesn’t arise in the first place.” He lowered his voice. “You taught me that yourself, after you rescued me from the robbers in Tanimura.”
“Yes, I did.” Nicci gave him a small nod of acknowledgment. “Don’t make me rescue you again.”
“I won’t, I promise.”
“Don’t make promises, because circumstances have a way of making you regret them. Did you promise your friend Ian that you would always stay by his side? That you wouldn’t abandon him in times of danger?”