Shaper of Stone (The Shapers Book 1) (25 page)

Like the corpse, it wasn’t there
a few minutes earlier. Black tendrils of smoke drifted away from it
as it rotated. The image of the chamber reflected across its smooth
surface.

“What was that scream?”
cried the master of the tower. He slammed open the door and rushed
into the room. He stopped after only a few steps to take in the scene
before him. With an almost imperceptible wave of his hand the door
behind him closed with a bang, blocking the pair of guards trailing
after him.

The master remained silent for a
moment. His hands clenched at his side. He ignored the young man and
the body. The object spinning in the air captured his gaze, drawing
him into its reflective surface.

Flashes of candlelight flickered across
his face with each turn of the mirror like surface. The flashes
repeated three times before the candles sputtered and went out. For a
moment the room was plunged into a darkness so complete it was like
looking into the void. Only the moonlight creeping through the open
window managed to pierce the gloom.

Trapped in shadows the young man
struggled to his feet. He wiped the tears from his eyes. He knew he
must face the man who had been his mentor for over a decade. The man
who was the father of the body in the chair.

“I... I’m... Sorry...
We...”

“Stop!” commanded the
master before his student could stammer out an explanation. “You
shall not speak!”

The master reached with both hands
toward the table standing across the room. With a twisting motion, it
unraveled before him. The wood twisted and folded, then with the
speed of a striking snake the pieces flew at the young man. It coiled
around him in wooden bands. Within seconds his arms and legs were
trapped. His mouth was covered.

The young man tried to fight back with
his own magic, but he was unable to direct his power with the
bindings in place. He struggled to free an arm, but the bands held
him tight. Even his hands were bound to his side.

The master smiled with satisfaction at
the results. His student was restrained helplessly before him. The
wood continued to mold itself around the young man, cocooning him
against the outer wall.

The smile faltered when the master
noticed the body had fallen from its resting place. The shifting of
the table had knocked the nearby chair back, dislodging the corpse.

Ignoring the terrified sounds coming
from his apprentice, the older man crept toward the body. What little
light there was seemed to be captured by the blue eyes staring up
from the floor.

“My Lord! Are you well?”
came from the other side of the door as one of the guards pushed it
open. The concern for his charge was evident on his face as he stood
there, caught in the light from the hallway. It took a moment for his
eyes to adjust to the darkness and in that brief time he was blind to
what lay before him.

-o-

The floor in front of the lead guard
blurred an instant before a stone spike erupted from it. The spike
impaled him before he could react. The second guard barely managed to
dodge the tip as it burst from between the first man’s
shoulders. Instinctively the second guard spun to the side, swinging
the spear clenched in his right hand out and away from his body. The
weapon hit the lamp lighting the hallway and knocked it from its
perch. The clay shattered with a crash and burning oil spread across
the hallway.

The guardsman slid back in a crouch,
away from the door. His spear held at the ready while the flames
quickly burned themselves out on the stone floor.

There was movement at the door and his
spear sailed forward in the fading light. Years of training took
over, and with a scream he drew his sword and leaped forward for a
second attack. He was ready to strike even before the spear made
contact.

He stopped in mid swing. It was the
body of the first guard that collapsed to the ground with the spear
trapped in his ribs.

A shadowy figure stepped into view
within the room.

Through the open doorway a flurry of
darts swarmed down the hall. The guard battered two away, but the
rest struck him in the chest. His leather armor was pierced like
tissue paper. Gasping in pain, the guard dropped to the floor.

The master of the tower entered the
hallway with the body of the young woman cradled in his arms. The
guardsman looked into the eyes of the man he swore to protect one
last time before falling face forward in a pool of blood. Laying
there with his eyes closed, he could hear the sound of footsteps
leading away.

A cry of fear pierced the silent haze
of the injured man. He cursed with what little breath he had as he
struggled to rise. His mind shrieked to him, “Get up! Get Up!
Get Up!” There were others in the tower. He had to get to them.
He had to help.

With a Herculean effort he managed to
get to his knees and began a slow, painful crawl forward. Sweat
beaded on his forehead from the effort, and he was forced to stop
after only a few feet.

A sound drew his attention when he
knelt before the doorway. He peered into the darkness with only the
moonlight from the open window illuminating the room beyond. It took
a moment, but then he saw him. One of the students struggled against
the bindings that pinned him to the wall. Except for the one person,
the room appeared to be empty.

With trembling arms, the guard lowered
his gaze so that he could focus on the floor before him. Determined,
he forced himself forward, toward the helpless student.

-o-

The master emerged from the stable
leading a nervous horse into the courtyard. It pulled a small wagon
with a blanket covered bundle in the back. He looked back toward his
home of fifteen years oblivious to the bodies cooling at the foot of
the entrance. He wasn’t sure why he bothered to keep the one
corpse. What was one more in the wake of so many.

“No one must know. Not now. We
must have time.” He whispered to himself while stepping away
from the wagon. His gazed moved to the open window where this night’s
madness had begun.

His fingers clenched like claws and he
thrust his hands skyward. A primal roar erupted from his throat as he
tightened his grip. The stone around the tower window began to
crumble like it was being crushed by some tremendous weight. He
ripped his hands apart, and in the same motion the stones from the
tower were torn away to be flung into the night.

The wall started to crumble around the
hole. The tower let out a shriek of its own, followed by a crash when
the support beams gave way. The roof collapsed inward, and dust
erupted out of the cavity.

The tower shuddered then began to lean.
The shifting weight overbalanced it, tilting it to the side.
Accompanied by the sound of splintering lumber and falling stone, the
toppling tower picked up speed, leaning further, until pulled down by
its own weight it struck the ground. A massive cloud of dirt flew
into the air, obscuring the night sky and casting a spell of darkness
over the courtyard.

Within minutes the cloud began to
dissipate, and in the filtered moonlight passing through the haze of
smoke, the destruction appeared complete. The tower was no more.
Nothing moved within the rubble.

The master, weakened by his effort,
clambered onto the wagon. He never looked back as he disappeared from
view. His work had only begun. It would be many years before it
neared completion.

-o-o-o-