Free The Tower of Bones by Frank P. Ryan

that would cause the spherical and bloody orb to emerge intact, clutched between the long, sharp talons of the finger and thumb.
    ‘Mercy, beloved Mistress – your faithful servant! ‘Not the other eye – not my lovely remaining eye!’
    If it dies because of you, much more than an eye shall we extract from you.
    A glimpse of the huge multifaceted red eyes and Kate’s own eyes clenched shut again. She heard another shriek. Then the screaming even louder than before, followed by the slobbering sound of Faltana’s renewed weeping. Kate though that she could detect the smell of blood.
    ‘Muh-Mistress – buh-buh-beloved one! This is a deceiving creature – unlike any I have ever known. Its flesh will not abide with harm.’
    What foolishness is this?
    ‘I pray thee! I offer blessings, Faltana, your humble servant. Your most obedient servant … eternally. Let me show you with a single lash.’
    The chamber reverberated with the Witch’s rage.
    Still would you ignore our caution!
    ‘Mistress – beloved …!’
    Kate cringed from the sudden bellow of pain, then a snapping sound, the breaking of bone, as loud as a blow. Something torn off. Crunching noises as the bone and flesh were eaten. Shrieks, slobbering, the renewed smell of blood …
    The Witch’s presence – Kate was overwhelmed by it. She could feel the raw red heat of it on her face.
    One more moan and your entire hand rather than a finger shall it be!
    ‘Blessed, merciful Mistress!’
    One more squeal!
    Silence then – utter silence, apart from the shudder of breathing. A pregnant silence amid the heavy stink of blood.
    Kate could feel the Witch’s eyes return to her.
    A touch of something sharp and hard on Kate’s brow. The lurid glare of blood-red light as her eyelid was raised. Vileness invaded her vision. A sense of shock, as if the talons of the Witch had pierced her chest to feel her very heart inside. Her pulse rose to a frantic flurry.
    And yet, though thin, it is not the mere bag of bones we had imagined, knowing the slops you feed it!
    Faltana, forbidden to speak, writhed and twisted like a child throwing a temper tantrum on the filthy floor.
    A claw-tipped tentacle lifted the Garg-tail, brought it forward for inspection by the insectile eyes, which turned back to inspect Kate’s body from head to toe.
    Where was the recent scourging – here on its back? Speak quickly, or you will feel our wrath.
    ‘On her back, indeed. Here – precisely six or seven times – this very spot.’
    We see no mark.
    ‘You see, my beloved Mistress – all is healed, within moments of being inflicted.’
    A perfidious one, this. More dangerous, perhaps, than we had imagined!
    ‘Dangerous?’
    Yet so fertile do we sense in mind and spirit! Perhaps we have been too kind to it?
    ‘Yes – yes. Oh, too kind!’
    It is strong – stronger than appearances suggest. There is a power dormant in it, such as we have not seen before. Henceforth no more food – not even slops.
    ‘Such wisdom, beloved Mistress!’
    Henceforth only water!
    Kate no longer cared. In the enveloping silence, as the Witch and her servant abandoned her to darkness, she hoped that starvation might bring release, even if it was only the release of death. Oh, she hoped so. She so longed for it. She longed for it with every beat of her faltering heart.

The Portal
    Alan was badly shaken by the death of Sister Hocht. And there were questions he hadn’t had time to ask her. Now there would be no answers. And Kate was suffering again; he sensed the deepening of her pain. But what more could he do? A sense of helplessness overwhelmed him. All he could do was to find his way back to the Council Chamber, where the murder of the venerable old sister threw the Sisterhood into a panic. A furious Sister Siebe descended to the floor and insisted that he should leave the Old City at once. ‘The murder of our sister is your fault. All these years she has lived here in safety. Not until you come here, with