Fall of the Tower 2 Read online

  Fall of the Tower

  Part Two

  Cecelia Isaac

  Copyright © 2020 by Cecelia Isaac

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN 978-1-7344185-4-5

  This is a work of fiction. All names and characters are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual organizations, events, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Visit Cecelia Isaac's website at CeceliaIsaac.com. And please consider leaving a review on Amazon or Goodreads.

  Gawin

  “This is the last time.”

  Philippa covered her smile with one hand. He didn’t see it; he was hopping around her bedroom on one foot, cramming the other into his boot. With his pants unbuckled and his shirt only partially buttoned, he was in danger of tripping and landing in a heap.

  “I’m serious, Philippa, I’m not coming back.”

  “Let me help you with that,” she offered. She rose languidly from the blankets, and he had to look away from her topless form or risk being drawn back into bed. Drawing near, he let her straighten out his clothing with a few decisive movements.

  “There now,” she said once he was reasonably in order.

  Gawin stepped back and ruffled his curly mop of hair. It was only 11 in the morning. He did not want his employer to know what he’d been up to. And he still had to make it downstairs and out of the house.

  Philippa’s room was done up in frills and lace. A large mirror stood in the corner near her vanity, and he went to it to examine his appearance. Behind him, his gaze floated to Philippa. She swept her hair back so she could arrange her bodice around her ample breasts. She tightened the laces and added a jacket that matched the crushed silk skirt, both were a rich plum trimmed in white. Without the aid of a mirror, she pinned up her barrel curls over the area where their…activities…had mussed her hairdo.

  He felt a longing pull from the pit of his stomach. She always looked best like this, in the outfit of a gentlewoman, the daughter of a rich man…and without a hairpiece or shoes, her untamed side showed through. That, and the unshielded smile that always lit her face. A woman without a care in the world, completely at ease wherever she was.

  She’d caught him watching, and she came up behind him and put her chin on his shoulder. She wrapped her hands around his waist and hooked her fingers into his belt.

  “What’s wrong, my Gawin?”

  “You know what’s wrong.” He pulled away. “I’m telling you, this is the last time. I mean it.”

  Instead of feeling angry, he felt sadness. Every time he tried to confront losing her, it cut him deeply. It would be better this way, to end it before he could get hurt any more.

  “Don’t be like that.” She tried to reach for him.

  He shied away. “Why are you trying to get me to stay? You’re the one who’s engaged.”

  She pulled a face he couldn’t read. “I told you, it’s complicated.”

  He wanted to ask her what her plan was. Would she break things off with him once she was married? When was she going to drop the axe on what he’d thought was love?

  “I should go,” he said.

  She snatched a hairpiece from the vanity, pinning the feathered thing into her hair in a smooth movement. “I’ll walk you.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t,” he mumbled. But it wasn’t a strong protest, and Philippa was known for getting exactly what she wanted. Wish I’d been born with money, Gawin thought, not for the first time. Then maybe she’d consider marrying him.

  Now that the Arrowheads were the biggest gang in the city of Carnate, he was doing all right for money. But that wasn’t the thing preventing him from having Philippa. Something much stronger stood between them: respectability. Her father would never approve of Gawin. What Gawin didn’t understand was why she couldn’t say to hell with her father, and run off with him?

  Philippa had her boots buttoned on in no time, and soon she was tripping down the servant stairs on light feet, her heels clicking. She hadn’t even bothered to register his protests.

  Once they were down the block from her father’s brick manor, she linked arms with Gawin and settled into a leisurely pace.

  “You’re cross,” she said.

  “I’m not,” he answered, grumpy.

  “Of course you are. My situation hasn’t bothered you for months. Is Renat working you too hard lately?” Renat was the leader of the Arrowheads.

  Gawin shook his head. Renat was keeping him busy, but he didn’t want to tell Philippa why just yet.

  The fact was, Renat had a plan to get them out of the city. Carnate was besieged by the Hji Empire. Had been for almost a year, and while life was good for a smuggler, the city was on edge. There was little doubt that one day the Hji would overpower the walls of Carnate, and the wolves would take the city.

  He wanted to ask her to come with him. At times he thought it was crazy. At times he thought it would be perfect. Philippa's father was a canny man, an underworld lord turned respectable. Surely he had his own plans to flee if the Hji did come? Gawin couldn't picture Xavier the Red fighting alongside the city guard to defend the citizens. He'd probably bail the moment his personal connections tipped him off.

  But Gawin hadn't dared broach the topic with Philippa, not while it was still a dream. Carnate citizens had a rule. The siege was alluded to, but never directly discussed. Plans were made, but not too far in advance. "We'll see how we feel at the time," was what common folk said about anything more than two weeks away. The length of the siege hadn't bolstered anyone's confidence. In fact, it made everyone more on edge. More sure their destruction was imminent.

  The thought quickened his steps. He was eager to get back to work now. The Hji could break through in two months, or they could break through tomorrow. He should redouble his efforts.

  "You're wandering again, dreamer," Philippa said with a laugh. She never minded when he lost himself in thought though. He loved the nights she sat at her desk and worked, and he sat by the fire and planned routes and thought about his day, and schemed and daydreamed.

  "I guess I am a little busy lately," he said. It wasn't a lie but it was a deflection.

  "Mm," Philippa said. He couldn't tell if she believed him, but she rubbed his arm soothingly. "Then I should stay and help you relax."

  "We just relaxed," he pointed out, keeping his voice flat.

  "I think I'm ready for more," she purred into his ear.

  She never cared that they were in public on a busy street. Philippa owned the whole world.

  He tried to keep her at bay. "You're insatiable."

  She changed tack faster than a city guard parrying and riposting. "You're a goose. Grumpy, and such a nice day we were having! Do you think I have time for you?" She poked him playfully in the ribs. "You came to my office, you stray cat!"

  He'd had a delivery to make, but it was true the excuse had been thin, and they'd ended up in her bedroom in a matter of minutes.

  She continued her admonishing, sounding more and more like a schoolmarm. "I have important work to get done! We can't all skulk about in the dark of the night! You best not ask me in when we reach your place, sir, I've already decided to decline. I've been kind enough to walk you home, and you probably have mange!"

  Gawin snorted with laughter.

  "Ha!" she said, and moved and hand to tangle her fingers in his hair.

  Dammit, but he didn't want to fight. He'd be miserable, and end up going back to her anyway. Why not skip the middle days of suffering?

  He swooped down and kissed her in the middle of the street.

  Her hand went to her fascinator and she laughed when they parted. When she looked at him like that, he could almost believe she
'd forgotten about the fiancé entirely, and thought only of him.

  "Come on." He took her gloved hand and led her back to his room. He kept rooms a block away from the main Arrowhead base. No one knew he was involved with Xavier the Red's daughter, and he didn't need them to. It wouldn't be as disastrous as Xavier himself finding out, but Gawin wasn't interested in being part of a scandal.

  In his bedroom on the third floor of a mostly-empty building owned by the Arrowheads, he crushed Philippa against the door. He knew his aggression was only masking his insecurity, but he was feeling possessive, and he took charge, kissing her strongly while his hand kept her head in place.

  She acquiesced, letting him run his hands over her body and moaning softly.

  They made it back to his pallet. A far cry from her mattress and mound of soft sheets, but they made it work.

  "Now I really do have to get back to work," she said after. She dressed, again, and then came back to the bed. He was still stretched out, sweat beading his wiry body. She kissed him deeply, their tongues intertwining. Then she left. The way was already familiar to her; she'd been here many times.

  As good as he felt, a small part of Gawin nudged at him. He realized what it was. This time, like every time, she'd seduced him and made him laugh and asked about his work—but she'd never once denounced her fiancé, or made any sort of promise to change the situation. As always, she'd sidestepped it so neatly she'd made him forget that they weren't in an impossible situation. They were in a situation she had the power to change. He shouldn't be mad at the situation. He should be mad at her.

  He should be, but he never was.

  ~*~

  Around noon, the rest of the Arrowhead crew was just about waking up. Gawin had a reputation for fastidiousness, and no one was surprised to see him enter the compound, fully dressed and having already completed several small errands.

  "Hurry up!" he yelled in the general direction of the three who were to accompany him on his mission today. Then he went to check in with Renat.

  He'd always had a good relationship with the smuggler king, and had risen up with Renat as his status had grown. Back when Gawin had been hired on, the Arrowheads were more of a motley gang than a true crew. But that was years ago, and he'd stuck by Renat through it all, and lived to tell the tale. They weren't related by blood, so the trust Renat put in him was significant. Still though, Gawin knew Renat kept much to himself.

  Luckily, Renat had Moon. Renat's wife had quickly made herself indispensable to the crew, and what was more, Gawin liked her. She was a funny, offbeat woman, and the perfect match for Renat.

  Gawin pushed aside annoying thoughts about Philippa.

  He and Renat quickly relayed information to each other, and then Gawin went back into the common room outside of Renat's office.

  Carnate was a hot city, and the Arrowhead base was open on three sides to catch the breeze. Only the lieutenants lounged here. Gawin greeted them and descended a floor to the kitchen.

  "Let's go!" Gawin called, and his three scarfed down the rest of their food. The others did not look envious at all. They would be at their leisure until the early evening. Meanwhile, Gawin and his small crew were heading out during the hottest part of the day. It was necessary. This was when most of the city would rest, and the guard would be at its lightest.

  Gawin led the way, and the four of them shifted into their big cat forms.

  They took the High Road, a winding track through the city made for the leopards, jaguars, tigers and more that the citizens of Carnate could shift into. It was built above the streets, stretching over and between buildings.

  They went straight north, crossing the full span of the city. At last, they reached the northeast wall.

  Light brown stone stretched in a graceful arc to enclose the whole city, from the homes of the rich in the north, to the slums of the south, and the tower of sorcerers and royals that stood like a lighthouse in the center. Atop the wall, guards paced, giving no notice to the pride Gawin led from the High Road to the streets below.

  In the shadow of the wall, a guard opened a wooden door and gestured for Gawin and the others, now human, to hustle inside. Gawin passed her the rest of her money, and she led them through a maze of passageways.

  She opened another door, this one metal, and practically kicked them out.

  And then they were outside the city.

  Ursa & Amadou

  Amadou set the teacup in front of her. She brought her head up from the scroll she'd been poring over.

  "That bad?" she asked as he leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms.

  He couldn't even speak, he just let out an agitated sigh.

  Behind him, she couldn't see anyone else. The workrooms of the six sorcerers of Carnate all opened into a central room. Before the siege began, they would sit in that central room and discuss spells for hours. Now two of them staffed the wall at all times, while the others worked around the clock. Even though the far wall of her workroom boasted a spectacular view, looking out the window only served to remind her of the war. Obiad had taken to drawing his shades at all hours, and who could blame him. At least her workroom faced the rocky terrain in the north of the city. Obiad, Thisbe, and Amadou's workrooms faced the camp of the Hji army, just outside the southern walls.

  The tea was well-timed. She'd been laboring in her workroom for hours now. It was her shift enchanting guard armor, a tedious task made worse by the pressure to do it quickly, and without error.

  "You saw Hestia?" she prompted.

  Amadou had the look of a crow, with his black robes, bony features, and sharp nose. Many people found him intimidating, but Ursa had always thought him handsome. She'd never told him that.

  "She told me to keep away from economics and focus on magic."

  Ursa winced. Not surprising, but still frustrating. The prime minister was a competent woman, but she did not understand sorcery. Ursa picked up her herbal tea and blew on it.

  Amadou could hardly keep still, but Ursa just waited. They'd been friends since the moment she'd taken the position as a royal sorcerer of Carnate. He brought her tea every day, and leaned on her doorframe and talked or vented whenever he needed to. Technically, he was her superior, the head sorcerer. But the six of them were one family, and he spent more time managing the relationship between the sorcerers and the government than he did ordering any of them about.

  "How many times must I tell her!" Amadou finally burst out. "The lived core of magic works against us in a siege! Every moment they make a life here, the Hji grow in power. We cannot afford anything that weakens us...that breaks us apart..."

  She knew all of this, of course. But he needed to complain, and she didn't interrupt. Magic was strengthened by bonds, like family ties or centers of connection. When the Hji had first made their camp outside the walls, Carnate had been in a position of power. But the longer the Hji turned their camp into a home, the more power they would generate there.

  They could make as many charms as they wanted, but if Carnate felt less and less like a home, and the Hji camp more and more like one, there would be nothing even the most powerful of sorcerers could do.

  That was why Amadou was so concerned about the smuggling. The rumor was the Hji were smuggling…something…into the city. Hestia wasn’t bothered enough to investigate this claim. But Amadou knew that behind the skirmishes with regular weapons, the Hji were also angling to shift the balance of magical power.

  "Do you want me to turn her into a kitten?"

  Amadou laughed unexpectedly. "You're mischievous."

  "There's no doubt of that," she agreed, patting her pregnant belly good-naturedly. She was just beginning to show.

  He changed the subject, like he always did when she mentioned her baby. It was the only thing they never really talked about.

  "The king won't like us turning the prime minister into anything at all. The rumor the Hji are working with Carnate smuggling crews. I was thinking of solving this problem myself."<
br />
  "You?" she asked.

  He arched an eyebrow at her immediate incredulity.

  "Sorry—well, it's just—" She tried to think of a nice way to call him a complete nerd. Sorcery was a field that rewarded diligent study, but Amadou was more scholarly than most. He avoided court parties with a passion, fell asleep at his desk, got excited about formulas...she couldn't see him tangling with a smuggling crew.

  "I'm a professionally-trained battle mage, Sorcerer Ursula." He'd read her mind.

  She giggled anyway. "Well, go on then, how will you do what the guard cannot?"

  "I haven't come up with a plan yet—I’ve just come down from speaking with Hestia!" His voice rose when she gave him a look.

  "Ama..."

  He stuck his tongue out at her.

  Her jaw dropped. "Do not sass me, Sorcerer Amadou! I appreciate the scope of the problem. But let's think this through."

  If the magic in Carnate was weakening, she believed him. She'd felt it earlier in the siege. But she herself was more powerful than ever. Pregnant people possessed a great amount of lived magic.

  She'd been using every spare moment to research spells. Crafting new charms or revitalizing long-unused ones, this had long been her first love. And everything came easily to her lately. But it would be filling a bucket with a hole in it if they couldn't rally Carnate.

  Echoing her thoughts, Amadou said, "I've got to do something, Ursa."

  In the eleventh month of the siege, they all felt the same emotion: a creeping dread. He had his back to the doorframe now, his arms crossed over his lanky frame.

  She sighed. "If—if—you let me help you, I know where we can start."

  He straightened. "You do?"

  "Yes. I know a smuggler."

  ~*~

  It was the last thing Amadou expected her to say.

  Well, maybe not the last thing. Ursa was a fan of a good non sequitur. She liked to add a little whimsy to the world, or so she said. She liked to say yes to everything. This personality trait often led to adventures he did not have the stomach for.