Free The Immortal Mystic (Book 5) by Sam Ferguson

not a city as he would have expected, but it was a city nonetheless. There were houses, walkways, and fruit trees all around. However, unlike the neatly ordered houses of the cities he knew which stood in rows and had defined borders with fences and pickets, there was no such demarcation here. Houses stood in seemingly random positions. Some here, others far off, never more than two or three in a single grouping. Some even stood in the middle of walkways, as if someone had built the house atop where a road should be. The apple trees and other fruit bearing trees stood in a similarly chaotic arrangement. There was no perfectly lined orchard. There were scattered groups of trees, or single trees standing wherever a seed fell and took root it seemed.
    The grass was up to his knees. There were no lawns or gardens as he knew them. Yet, this place still looked as beautiful as any other city he had seen before. It held a certain charm that the neat rows and streets of the human cities lacked. It was as if instead of dominating the landscape, the satyrs became a part of it.
    He then realized that in his gawking he had let the satyr get quite far ahead of him. He and Silvi hurried to catch up. He almost expected a reprimand for being slow, but the satyr said nothing. He just led them through the meandering town and out the other side toward a brook. The water coursed over and around large, smooth stones crashing and splashing gently between two banks of verdant grass dotted with red poppies and golden dandelions.
    The satyr stopped and put his pipes up to his lips. He blew three notes gently, holding the third for a few seconds before pulling the pipes away from his mouth.
    The air shimmered and waved before them, much like Dremathor’s tower had. It was as if Aparen was looking through a window with water running across the glass as the image of a large, stone tower formed in front of him. Gray, smooth stones came into view along with a door of dark ebony wood at the base of the tower. Ivy and morning glory crept up the stonework, adding life to the otherwise cold and foreboding structure.
    The door opened, but there was no sign of light from within the tower.
    “Go in, it is time for you to be introduced.” The satyr then turned to Silvi. “You will stay here, with me.”
    Aparen glanced nervously to Silvi and then back to the door. There was something different about her now, but he couldn’t quite place it. She was still as beautiful as ever, but he wasn’t as fiercely attracted to her as he had been only a day before. Whatever it was, it could wait for later. The open door before him wouldn’t wait forever.
    He stepped across a row of dry stones jutting up from the brook and made his way to the tower. A pair of white butterflies twirled around each other before him. He smiled at their dance and then pressed through the dark opening.
    He closed the door behind him and waited for light to appear. Only darkness greeted him. After a moment, he turned back to reach for the door again. His hand fell through where the door should have been. He swiped again through the blackness and again found nothing. He took a couple of steps toward the door, but never found it or a wall.
    “What manner of magic is this?” Aparen asked. “Am I brought here to be kept as a prisoner?”
    “That depends entirely upon you,” a voice answered from the darkness. The voice was high and nasal, yet it was also menacing, dripping with anger and the hint of a threat.
    “Show yourself,” Aparen demanded.
    “That is no way for a guest to speak to his host,” the voice commented wryly. “Or have you come to conquer my home and take it from me, as you would with those humans back upon the main land?”
    “What are you talking about?” Aparen asked.
    “You led a war against another human simply for his land, or have you been so blinded by your hatred that you have forgotten that?”
    Aparen realized the voice was talking of Erik. “I wanted his