The Witch's Tower by Tamara Grantham (uplifting novels .txt) 📖

witches’ palace. The thought of returning made my stomach turn to a lead weight. But I had no choice.

The wind picked up, battering my cheeks with sharp particles of ice. A half-moon hung high in the dark sky. I flexed my fingers to keep my blood circulating. The leather gloves did little to keep my hands warm. My dragon scales would be better protection against the cold than my human flesh was. Tingling magic pulsed through my blood. The spell allowing me to change at will had worn off, replaced with another enchantment. My transformation would come with the sunrise, and only then would I change into my dragon form.

The snow grew deeper the higher I climbed. At the top of a hill, I stopped. The spear-like towers of the witches’ palace rose above the landscape. Their icy blue color sparkled in the moonlight against a backdrop of stars.

The knot in my stomach tightened as I hiked through the snow, closer to the open drawbridge spanning the moat of churning glacier water. Did I have to return? Wasn’t there any other way out of this?

Drawing closer to the palace, I spotted the forms of two women standing atop the drawbridge.

They were waiting for me. How thoughtful.

After trudging to the bridge, I stopped at its base. Gwynna’s sharp eyes focused on me. The wind didn’t stir the dark braids wrapped around her head. Her glassy white skin and emotionless expression reminded me of a corpse carved from marble.

“Did you have a nice trip, dear?” Neleia asked, her voice croaking. What remained of her white wispy hair blew back and forth in the stiff gale. Was it just me or had she gotten more wrinkles since I’d been gone? It was hard to tell. Once a person reached a thousand, they really just looked like excrement, and there was no bypassing the aging process at that point. Ah well, at least she didn’t try to cheat it like Gwynna.

I stepped onto the bridge. “I had a lovely trip until it was cut short. Having to return to one’s imprisonment puts a damper on things. Where’s the elf?”

“We released him. We didn’t need him anymore, not after we struck a new bargain.”

A new bargain? “What do you mean?”

“Come inside, and we’ll tell you,” Neleia said. “You look cold, dear.”

Do I really? That couldn’t possibly be because I’ve been tramping through a frozen wasteland half the night.

The witches turned and lead me toward the open gate. Our footsteps echoed over the ice bridge. The portcullis overshadowed me as I followed the sisters.

We entered the courtyard. Magical flames burned in the crystal sconces, blue light glowing over the slick ice walls, reflecting a faint hazy light. When we approached the doors, they slowly swung inward.

My booted feet echoed as we entered the domed chamber. A crystal chandelier hung overhead, shimmering in the pool of aquamarine water directly beneath it.

We walked around the pool and toward another doorway leading to the dining hall. Chunks of hard-packed snow fell off my boots, leaving wet footprints behind me. As we bypassed the thrones atop the raised platform, memories returned.

Ten years had passed since my peoples’ war with the witches. Nothing had changed in the palace, making it hard for me to believe it had been a decade ago. All I’d ever wanted to do was escape this place. Although the throne room was enormous, the walls pressed in on me as if I’d been trapped in a vice.

When I closed my eyes, I could still see the little hut on the beach where I’d lived with my parents. It didn’t seem so long ago that I was running on the shore, sand beneath my toes, smelling the salt-scented air, feeling the warm breeze on my cheeks, and eating my mother’s coconut rice.

But I was here now, and I would be for the rest of my life. Unless something had changed. If the elf was no longer here, what did that mean? They’d let him go? Was it vain for me to wish they’d do the same for me?

I entered the dining hall behind the witches. Why they needed a table that seated twelve people was beyond me. They rarely got visitors. When they did, most of them didn’t make it out, and they seldom invited anyone to dine with them.

A roast goose sat on the table, its sweet, succulent scent wafting. Platters of fruit, bread and cheese were also laid out, along with goblets of wine.

“What’s the occasion?” I asked.

“Do we need an excuse to have a meal with you?” Gwynna said. “Now sit. We’ve got an important matter to discuss.”

I crossed my arms. They’d let the elf go, and now they wanted me to dine with them? Something was utterly wrong about this whole situation. “What if I refuse?”

“You shouldn’t,” Gwynna said, her words clipped, her dark eyes narrowed in a silent warning.

Fine. I’d play along. I sat on one of the chairs across from them. My stomach rumbled. Refusing to eat seemed like a stupid thing to do after a night hiking the wastes of the northlands, so I grabbed a handful of grapes, a thin slice of meat, and some bread and cheese and ate quietly.

The sisters sipped their wine, though they only nibbled at slices of bread and took small bites of the meat.

“So,” I asked after swallowing a mouthful, “what’s this matter you wanted to discuss? Are you letting me go free?”

“In a sense, yes.”

Yes? Had I heard her correctly? But there was a catch. There always was. “Really? Pray tell, will I be able to go home?” Not that I had a home anymore, not after Xaldain Von Rothbart had betrayed my people.

“We’ve traded you,” Neleia said.

“Traded me?”

“Yes.” Gwynna smiled. “It was worth it, too. We thought we’d never find a creature rarer than you, but then we were offered something we couldn’t refuse.”

Gwynna lifted her hands, cupping them as a mist of white fog gathered. Magic tingled over my skin from her spell. When the fog dissipated, she held a black egg with veins of blue running through it.

“Is that…?”

“The egg of a phoenix,” Neleia said, her voice quiet with awe. “So, you see, we had no choice but to trade you to him. We’re very sorry. We hope you’ll forgive us someday, dear. We really did enjoy your company.”

“We’ll miss you terribly,” Gwynna added.

I couldn’t hear their words anymore. The word him echoed in my ears. Please, no. It couldn’t be who I thought.

“Gwynna, Neleia,” I said slowly, controlling my voice. “Who did you trade me to?”

Heavy bootsteps thudded behind me. I spun around. The silhouette of a large man appeared inside the shadow of the doorway. I dropped my fork on the floor with a clatter that echoed on the cold, unyielding marble.

Not him. Anyone but him.

My heart stopped as Xaldain Von Rothbart walked toward me. His bulky frame moved stiffly, as if he weren’t used to taking his human form. He wore black leather armor that hugged his meaty frame. His golden eyes shone like two burning coals. A wave of memories washed over me.

The first time he’d entered my homeland, my parents had left our hut on the seashore to go speak with him. I couldn’t forget the fear in their eyes when they returned. They’d warned me of him. They’d warned everyone, but no one listened. Not until it was too late.

I stood so quickly, my chair fell over. Anger flooded my blood.

“You traded me to him?”

“We had no choice,” Gwynna said, running her hands over the egg’s glassy surface. “We couldn’t refuse.”

“We said we were sorry,” Neleia interjected.

“Odette,” Xaldain said behind me, his voice producing a rough, animalistic sound. It seemed so wrong coming from his mouth, as if he controlled me just by speaking my name.

I rounded on him. “What do you want with me?”

He stood without moving, his hands clenched into fists, looking at me with a predatory gaze. His slit-shaped pupils made it easy to see the dragon in his eyes. “We’re the last of our kind. A dying breed. I bargained my most prized possession to get you back.”

“You can’t do this. I won’t go. I refuse.”

“You’ve got no choice,” Neleia said. “You belong to him now.”

“But… he tried to kill you!”

“Many years ago, yes. But we don’t hold grudges.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Is it?” The sisters stood. “You have her now,” Gwynna said to Xaldain. “Now leave our lands. We’ve tolerated your presence long enough.”

“Very well,” he said with a nod.

The witches turned to leave.

“No,” I called after them. “Please, don’t leave me with him. He butchered my people. He murdered my parents. Don’t you care?”

Gwynna glanced back. “There are some things we care about more.”

They walked out of the room. The door slammed behind them. The sound echoed through the enormous, empty room.

Xaldain stepped closer to me, so quietly he could have been a snake gliding silently through the grass. He struck out, squeezing my shoulder blade, tucking his fingers beneath my cloak to touch my skin. His fleshed burned with searing heat. I cried out, but his iron grip held me in place. Pain lanced through me, radiating through my neck and shoulder.

When he released me, I stumbled. Burning pain radiated through my body. I moved my cloak aside to look at the wound. A red imprint of his