Free The Black Tower by Steven Montano

and the hot juices stained his face as he ate them.  He and the Veilwarden eventually reached the tower, a black edifice of solid stone which stood at the center of Ebonmark.  Blades of sunlight warmed his skin.  The largest building which abutted the square belonged to the Soapmaker’s Guild, and the scent of lye, rose and hyacinth made the air thick and sweet. 
    They were nearly to the tower when Gess put a hand on Blackhall’s shoulder.
    “I think you should reconsider,” he said.
    “Reconsider what?”
    “Not marching on Ironclaw Keep.” Gess said.  “I’m about to communicate with Mace and Garrick back in Ral Tanneth, and once I do we’ll be ready to use the cutgates within the hour.”
    “I told you,” Blackhall said firmly, “we’re not doing that, not without Karthas’ approval.  We have our orders, and we’re going to follow them.”  He turned to go inside, but Gess stood there at the base of the tower, watching him.
    “What’s this really about, Aaric?” he said. 
    Blackhall looked around.  A few soldiers passed by, but none were foolish enough to stop and listen in on a conversation between the Grand Marshall of the city and his Veilwarden adviser.  He closed the gap between he and Gess in a few steps and fixed Toran with a stare.
    “You know damn well what this is about,” he said.  “It’s about following orders so I don’t get any more men killed.”
    “Aaric...” Gess said.  “We did what had to be done.”
    “Maybe,” he said.  “Maybe not.  Either way, I still hear those men’s screams in my sleep.”
    “And you think not acting now will make them come back?” Gess said quietly, not breaking from Blackhall’s gaze.  “We can cut the head off the snake, Aaric, but only if we strike fast.”
    “The Count’s forces are already deploying,” Blackhall said.  “We can’t just leave Argus and the others out there alone.”  He ground his teeth in frustration.  He wanted to smack Gess upside his head, largely because he thought the Veilwarden was right – if they could somehow eliminate the Iron Count, the larger threat would be quelled, but to mount an attack on Ironclaw Keep with insufficient forces was suicide, and without the Army to back him Argus and his men would be as good as dead.  “I listened to you once,” he told Gess.  “And I’m still having nightmares because of it.  Don’t push me to do something else I’ll regret.”
    He turned to go inside.  He reached the door when Gess spoke again.
    “Sacrifices have to be made sometimes,” he said.  “There’s a greater danger waiting at Ironclaw Keep than you know, Aaric.  We would be doing the world a favor by ridding it of the Iron Count.”
    “And what about Argus?” he asked.  “Should we ignore his call for help?  I thought he was your friend.”
    “Argus would understand,” Gess said.  He watched Blackhall for a moment, and sighed.  “You do what you need to do, Aaric.  But do me one favor.”
    “What’s that?”
    Gess spoke low.  “Don’t pretend like I manipulated you into poisoning those men.  You make your decision, and you live with it.  Just like the last time.”
    Gess turned and walked away.  Blackhall watched him, and bit down in frustration.  Was he right?  Was a strike on Ironclaw Keep the right decision?  Was his fear of making another mistake leading him the wrong way?
    No.  The fate of the Empire rested in Argus’ hands, and his success was the only way to ensure everyone’s safety.  They had to get to him, had to keep the Count’s forces off his back.  It was the only right decision.
    Then why are you shaking?
    He thought of Cassandra and Malachai.  He missed them more than ever.
     

Six
     
    Vellexa dreamed of fire.  She woke thinking about her son Kyver, and wondered if he was safe.
    There was little life in the Bonelands aside from their band of Black Guild mercenaries and Tuscars.  They ran across a wolf or a scrubhawk now and