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      Copyright (c) 1992, 1993 Charles Tryon / All Rights Reserved
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			T h e   T o w e r s

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9:  A Visit in the Night

   GreyEagle returned to her room, but though she was exhausted, the
events of the evening still troubled her, and she couldn't sleep.  For a
while, she nervously busied herself, polishing her armor and sharpening
her sword, trying to push aside the troubles of the day, but her heart
wasn't in it.  She knew too that she was just trying to keep her mind off
of Schimray, alternating between anger, sorrow, confusion and longing.
Finally, she gave up and undressed to go to bed, but sleep still eluded
her as she kept going back in her mind to the evening they had spent
together a month ago.  After a time, she finally drifted off to a fitful
sleep.
   She was awakened by a quiet knock at her door.  She quickly got up and
pulled her cloak around herself, struggling to push the sleep from her
eyes.  She paused for a moment and then grabbed her long dagger and held
it under her cloak.
   "Who is there?" she cautiously whispered through the door before
opening it.
   "It is I, Schimray," the voice came back.
   GreyEagle's heart leapt to her throat at the sound of the voice.  The
voice was Schimray's, but somehow it was different, though she could not
decide what the difference was.  Nervously, she drew back the bolt on the
door and carefully opened it.  She nearly dropped the dagger to the floor
as she saw the figure standing there in the dim light.
   It was Schimray who stood before her, but somehow the years had been
stripped away from his frame.  Gone were the lines in his face and the
weary bend in his back.  He stood there smiling at her while she stared.
She didn't know what to say, and stood there as if her feet had been
nailed to the floor.
   "May I come in, my love?"  Schimray asked finally, breaking the
silence.
   "But...  How..."  GreyEagle fumbled.  Coming back to her senses
suddenly, she realized that she was making him stand there.  She blushed,
and opened the door the rest of the way, motioning for him to enter.
Schimray quickly slipped through the door, and GreyEagle closed and bolted
it behind him.  He pulled the chair up to the side of the bed and motioned
for her to sit too.  GreyEagle sat down slowly on the edge of the bed,
carefully studying him in the dim light.
   What had he done?  She was gripped with a sudden wild fear as she
clenched the dagger still hidden beneath her cloak.  Was it truly
Schimray, or some demon playing a cruel trick on her?  She was tempted to
jump and snatch up her sword.  Or, was it really Schimray?  If so, what
kind of power did he posses?  The blood pounded in her ears and she
thought that her heart would burst from her chest.
   "I can see you have many questions to ask me," Schimray chuckled
quietly, and at the familiar sound of his voice, GreyEagle's fears began
to subside.  "But first I would like to hear your account of what has gone
on over the last month.  I will however, assure you of this much before we
begin -- I am the same man as before and," he took her hand in his and
looked deeply into her eyes, "every word I said to you before is still
true.  I want you now to trust me as I trust you."
   Trust, she thought incredulously!  He does this and wants me to trust
him?  She closed her eyes and swallowed hard, calling to memory the face
she had known before, old and tired, but with eyes which spoke of life and
love.  Slowly, fearfully, she opened her eyes again.  Yes, she thought as
she looked into the eyes of the man across from her, they were the same.
The face and body were different, but the eyes were Schimray's.  Slowly,
her fear of him slipped away and her heart slowed to a reasonable pace
once more.
   "Oh Schimray," she began, her voice full of strain as the tried to
piece the events of the evening back together, "we had a terrible
confrontation over supper tonight after you left.  Sucaba said that he
thought his dragon should share in the treasure just as the rest of us.  I
thought it not such an unreasonable request, and most of the others, while
they did not all agree, at least they didn't become angry.  But then, the
silent one...  From the look in their eyes, I thought they might try to
kill each other on the spot.  The silent one spoke through a huge rat, a
filthy, disgusting creature, insulting us and saying that it had done more
than we had at the tower, though the silent one made it come back and
swallow some of its words.  I held my tongue, fearing that I would only
make things worse.  I'm so glad you came tonight so that I could speak
with you."
    Schimray held up his hand to stem the flood of words.  He was silent
for a long time before he went on.  "This is a group full of strong egos.
I had feared that something like this might happen, but had hoped that
perhaps we could avoid it.  No matter.  I will deal with the others, my
love.  You were wise to keep out of their way."  He sat back in his chair
and his eyes looked far away.  For a long time, he said nothing.
   GreyEagle began to think back to all that had happened since they had
last left Arabel.  She suddenly realized that she was still clutching her
dagger under her robe.  She felt the blood rise to her face as she tried
to discretely pull it out and place it on the stand next to her bed.
Schimray smiled at her.
   "You do well to be cautious -- it may save you in the future.  But,
enough of that for now.  Tell me the story of your travels please, and in
particular, your impressions of the others.  You must be my eyes and ears
for a time."
   GreyEagle went back to the beginning of the journey and described the
fight with the kobolds as they had passed through the Stonelands, and the
spear which had bounced off her chest.  She watched Schimray closely to
see if he gave any indication that he might have some knowledge of what
was behind this, however, Schimray just smiled and nodded his head.  This
did not satisfy her curiosity over the matter, but she let it pass.  She
recounted what had happened with Trouble and the silent one when they
questioned the kobolds, shivering once again as she recalled the looks on
their faces.
   A dark look crossed Schimray's face.  "Do not fool with Trouble or the
silent one," he warned her.  "The silent one especially has a power you
cannot cope with.  Sucaba will generally do as I tell him, so you need not
worry about him."  GreyEagle paused momentarily.  Sucaba was loud, pushy
and sometimes obnoxious.  Yet, he was a threat which was visible, out in
the open.  She could deal with him.  It was the others, moving quietly,
never letting anyone know their thoughts, that she had to be careful of.
   "Schimray, a raven came to me while I was away from the others one
morning.  I saw it a number of times after that, and thought that it was
watching me.  Did you send the raven?" she asked shyly, "Were you there
watching me?  I felt as if it knew me."
   "I did not sent the raven," said Schimray, "but I knew of its
existence.  Someone else sent it in hopes that you would take to it and
perhaps expose some terrible secret about me."  An easy smile crossed his
face and he leaned towards her.  "As I have no terrible secrets," he said,
his eyes twinkling in amusement, "you need not fear the raven.  Indeed,
make friends with it if you can.  It may provide us with possible clues to
its master."  GreyEagle paused.  Who might have sent the raven, and how
would Schimray have known about it?  Her head began to spin considering
the powers which were swirling around her.
   GreyEagle sighed and continued with her report.  She told Schimray of
the unrelenting heat of the desert and the problems with finding water.
She recounted the party with the chitterlings, laughing again at their
antics and how the others had dealt with them.  She paused for a time,
relishing the memory.
   "I saved some of the stones they gave me, to remember them by."
   Suddenly Schimray laughed, a clear, pure, peaceful laugh, one which
cleared the air of darkness and hostility.
   "Why do you laugh?" she asked hotly.
   "At you, my dear, and at me."
   "What?"
   Schimray stopped suddenly, but his eyes still shone.  "I see so much
greed in the world, and sometimes I forget that some are motivated by
other things than gold.  Well, I am glad that you have found some joy on
your mission.  I can see from your eyes that you have encountered much
that has been difficult or painful, and I do not wish to see you sad."  He
reached out and touched her cheek tenderly.  GreyEagle blushed, but
Schimray laughed once again, and it quickly set her heart at rest and she
laughed with him.
   She paused, remembering Schimray's warning to her about Trouble.  "I am
not sure if I did the right thing," she said fearfully, "but I traded a
magical scroll and wand with Trouble, for a pair of eye pieces which give
me the far reaching sight of an eagle."
   Schimray leaned back slowly in his chair, thinking for a moment.
"Hummm.  A useful trade in both cases, but I think Trouble took advantage
of you.  Still these eyes will be very helpful."  He looked at her
closely.  "Consider your trades very carefully, my dear, and be especially
careful when trading with any of the mages."
   GreyEagle swallowed hard.  "How am I to judge?  I know so little of
magic and spells."
   "You know more than you realize.  Examine your heart carefully and it
will tell you."  GreyEagle was not sure she was convinced, but she was
relieved that he had not become angry with her.
   She went on to tell him how they had sighted the tower, and how Sucaba
had scouted it out.  Her heart once again rose to her throat as she
remembered the battle and the prisoners, and how they had been unable to
save the man and boy before the orcs had slit their throats.  Schimray
reached out and took her hand as tears clouded her vision.  She paused a
moment to regain her composure.
   After a time she was able to continue.  "We searched the tower
afterwards," she said, wiping away the tears.  "There were a number of orc
bodies there, dead, but without any wound or other sign of how they had
died.  I feared that it might be a sign of activity by the dark creature
of which you spoke, but this evening, that insolent rat belonging to the
silent mage claimed that he had killed them."
   Schimray frowned.  "Yes, the mage is indeed responsible through his
little helper.  You will not encounter the creature of which I spoke for
some time yet.  Fortunately, it does not know of your existence yet,
though it is beginning to be aware of mine."
   In her mind, GreyEagle could see a great shadow arising, like the
darkness before a gathering storm.  For the first time that she could
remember, she began to truly fear for Schimray.  She had thought often of
the possibility that she could be killed in a battle, but she had never
really taken seriously the danger which Schimray faced.  Her heart was
gripped with a sudden coldness and she felt anew the urgency of their
mission.
   "It is a difficult group for me to control," Schimray went on, "but I
will have to put an end to this bickering.  There will be hell to pay for
anyone who sheds blood within the group.  You are to work together in
spite of your differences."  A deep furry boiled inside of Schimray, but
with some difficulty, he controlled his temper.  He leaned back again in
his chair and sighed.  "But go on with what you were telling me, my
beauty, and I will take care of other business later."
   She hesitated for a moment.  "We found a magical star there, along with
a few potions.  It had twelve points, like the number of the towers.  On
the top floor, there were a number of depressions in the walls which
matched the star.  Sucaba assured us that it was a key to teleport to the
other towers, but we were not able to unlock how it was to be used.  There
was quite an argument over what we should do with it."  She hesitated,
wondering how Schimray would take news of yet another argument among those
in the party.  "Sucaba and I thought it was a part of tower, and should be
returned to you," she said in a rush.  "The others wanted to keep it
themselves as part of the treasure.  Schimray, the look in Sucaba's eyes
frightened me.  I thought that he would do something terrible.  I knew how
strongly he felt about returning the star to you, and I thought he would
stop at nothing to make sure you received it.  The silent one has it now.
I told Sucaba that he should fly ahead to tell you about the star before
we arrived, though I do not know what he has done this."
   "Yes," Schimray said slowly, "I have already heard of the star from
Sucaba, and yes, it is part of the tower, but I did not make that clear
enough before.  There were a total of twelve stars at one time, but I do
not know how many of them may have survived the ages, or if they are still
in the towers."  He paused for a moment to consider.  "I will have to make
it clear that the stars are to be considered part of the towers from now
on."  He smiled deviously.  "This will not sit so well with some I am
sure, but I believe that suitable arrangements can be made."
   GreyEagle was not sure she was so confident.  She was still deeply
troubled by the confrontation over supper, and afraid that it might split
the party up, or worse.  She is not even sure at this point if, when they
finally came face to face with the dark creature, all of the members of
the party will even fight against it.  Some, particularly the silent mage
and perhaps even Trouble, might turn on them at the critical moment.  She
looked to Schimray for reassurance.
   "Once we were finished cleaning out the tower, we decided to escort the
remaining prisoners back to Arabel," GreyEagle continued.  "Sucaba and
Trouble were not too thrilled with the idea, but they went along.  Sucaba
locked the tower by some force, but he assured me that you would be able
to get through."
   "I provided Sucaba with the scroll to lock the tower," Schimray said in
a matter of fact tone.  "It was passed to me from my master.  There are
twelve scrolls and Sucaba is to lock each tower as you finish.  Once the
scroll has been read, no one except my master can unlock them." GreyEagle
recalled the flash and the gleam in Sucaba's eye as he had read the
scroll, and she wondered if Sucaba understood the extent of the power he
was so flippantly making use of.
   "We ran out of food before we reached the end of the desert, but Sucaba
and Horton were able to hunt for us, so we did not go hungry." She didn't
mention the fact that they had been slowed down considerably by the
presence of the prisoners.
   Schimray stood and crossed to the window.  "Horton may be another
problem," he said quietly.  "He has become a little greedy, as you may
have guessed after dinner.  I have already spoken with him, and was able
to influence him somewhat, so that he will continue to provide service to
Sucaba, but he is anxious to start his own hoard so he can attract a
mate."  GreyEagle was surprised at Schimray's concern over Horton's status
in the group.  She had considered the dragon to be a useful member of the
party but it seemed that more was going on beyond the scene than she had
at first thought.
   "After this," she concluded with a shrug, "we continued home without
incident."
   He sat down again opposite her and smiled tenderly.  "You have done
well, all of you, and I am especially glad to have you once again with
me."
   GreyEagle looked down and suddenly remembered that she was hardly
dressed.  She had put on a light night slip before, and had grabbed her
cloak when answering the door, but she had become warm as she talked, and
at some point during her tale, had let it slip from her shoulders.  Her
eyes shot up to meet with Schimray's in the dim light, wide open and
suddenly uncertain.  She had hardly thought about his young face as she
had spoken with him, she was so absorbed in her memories of the past
month.  Now she looked at him again, and when his eyes met hers, something
inside of her melted, just as it had the first night she had spoken with
him.  She could feel her control slipping away.  A small voice within her
shouted that she shouldn't trust him, that she didn't know him, and that
he would only hurt her if she did, but the voice grew fainter and fainter
with every passing second, drowned out by the flood of other feelings
which now spun around her.  Something in him had touched her as no one
else had touched her before.
   She reached up to the cord which bound her hair in the long braid and
slowly undid it.  As she shook out her hair, it fell in deep black waves
which cascaded down around her face and shoulders, reaching down around
her as she looked up into Schimray's eyes.  She silently slipped into his
lap and leaned over to buried her face in his shoulder, feeling his
strength and breathing in the smells of his body.  Schimray folded his
arms around her and held her close.  He tenderly reached up one hand and
gently ran it through her hair.
   Suddenly something within GreyEagle snapped like a bow string pulled
too taught.  The little voice within her which had been almost silenced
now screamed hideously.  Images flooded in upon her, threatening to sweep
her away.  The face of one she had trusted and loved, the joy of being
together.  Suddenly the joy turned to horror and fear, emotions out of
control, groping hands, pleas to stop to no avail, pain, shame, breaking
free, running, running into the blackness of night.  Suddenly she
remembered turning around.  She had not known why, but a sudden new fear
gripped her, telling her to return.
   Then the memory of the face returned, only this time it was twisted in
death, etched into her memory as if she were looking at it again at her
feet, lifeless, staring up at the sky as the sun sent its first tentative
rays to sweep away the night.  The two orc bodies were there too, their
blood soaking the ground.  Suddenly, all she could see was the blood.  It
was her fault, she knew.  She hadn't been there when he had needed her,
when the orcs had come, and now it was too late.
   She burst out of Schimray's arms as the memories tumbled over her.  It
was her own fault.  She could have saved him, and he would not have died.
But she had been frightened of him, ashamed, and angry.  She had run away
from the sight, and had never returned.
   As she now lay on the floor, her body racked with sobs, Schimray knelt
down beside her and reached out to touch her, but she recoiled from him in
horror, her mind still filled with the demons of her memory.  Schimray
backed off quickly, and then slowly, he reached out his hand to her again,
his palm open and his voice soft.  "Come back my love, back from the edge
of the pit.  Tell me what spirits of the night chase you," he called to
her softly.  As GreyEagle looked up at him, finding his eyes once more,
his voice wrapped itself around her and the nightmare slowly began to
subside, gradually creeping back into the dark corner from whence it had
come, staying there just beyond sight.
   "Please," she whispered to him, "please tell me you will never, never
leave me."
   "I will always be here for you GreyEagle," he said, whispering into her
ear.  "It is you that must decide to leave or to return."
   "Please hold me.  Do no more.  I just need to know that you are there."
Schimray picked her limp form from the floor and cradled her in his arms,
as he would a small child.
   "I am here for you."  He carefully wiped her tears with a soft
handkerchief and pushed aside the hair which had fallen across her face in
tangled strands.  He tenderly nestled her head against his shoulder, and
rocked her gently.  "I could read sorrow in your face from the moment I
saw you," he whispered.  "Tell me what is troubling you."
   GreyEagle was silent for a long time, still tense, afraid to risk
bringing into the light the demon which had followed her so long.
However, after a long time, she heaved a deep, shuddering sigh, one which
came from the very depths of her being, from a part of her which had
remained hidden for too many years.
   "I trusted him," she told Schimray, her voice almost too quiet to be
heard.  "He was older than I, but we had grown up together.  Whenever the
older boys gave me a hard time, he chased them off, as if he was my older
brother looking after me.  We spent many days and nights together in the
wilderness looking after the sheep, sometimes with others, sometimes just
the two of us.  I always felt safe with him."
   "Then, one night, something happened.  He started to kiss me, and when
I told him to stop, he refused.  He was stronger than me, and then he
started to hurt me.  I screamed and cried, but still he wouldn't stop.
Somehow, I managed to break away from him and I ran off into the night."
   "I don't know how long I ran, but suddenly my heart was filled with a
dread such as I had never known before.  Deep within me I knew I had to
return, but with every step, the dread became greater until I reached
where he was."
   GreyEagle stopped, her face buried in her hands, and again the sobs
tore her body.  "It was my fault.  I knew it was my fault.  He lay there
with his face to the sky, dead, and his dagger still clenched in his
hand.  The bodies of two orcs were there too, and the sheep were
scattered.  It must have been a band of orcs who had attacked.  If I had
been there, the two of us could have driven them off, but I had run away
when he needed me."
   GreyEagle lay there, her head hanging, every ounce of strength gone
from her body.  "I ran home, not knowing what to do," she whispered.  "By
the time I arrived, everyone was already out of the house with the early
chores, so I quickly went in, gathered my things, and fled without leaving
so much as a note as to where I was going.  I guess I didn't even know
myself where I was headed at that point."
   "I have never returned."
   "Who killed him, you or the orcs."
   GreyEagle looked up at him, confused.  "The orcs did."
   "Yet, you blame yourself, as if you had done it."
   "But it was my fault," she protested.  "I should have been there."
   "And then, you too would have died?"  GreyEagle began to protest, but
Schimray gently touched his finger to her lips.  "It is past, and no
amount of wringing of hands may change that.  Now, you live.  How many
others must face what you have faced, or can you bring life to them?
There are many Amelias who need you."
   GreyEagle nodded weakly.  She was totally spent now, and her eyelids
slipped closed.  She fell into a deep sleep cradled in Schimray's arms,
untroubled by dreams.


   Schimray was silent as he held GreyEagle.  After a long time, he gently
lifted her to her bed and tucked her in, tenderly arranging her black hair
to frame her face against the pillow.  Pulling a piece of paper from an
inner pocket, he quickly wrote a note and carefully tucked it into her
hand, softly kissing her forehead.  He stood there for a moment, gazing at
her face.  Suddenly, he stooped a second time and kissed her lips.  Then
he turned and quietly slipped from the room.


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Greetings all!

  If you are just picking up here for the first time, you should be able
  to find back chapters (via. ftp) in the directory /pub/frp/stories/towers
  on ftp.cs.pdx.edu.  I will also honor Email requests for back chapters.
  Please make sure you include a valid Internet address, and I will try to
  get back to you within a day or two.

  If anyone is interested, I've scanned in some B&W illustrations I've
  done for the story.  Pictures are at the same ftp site, or send me Email
  and I can send them to you.

  As always, I welcome any comments on the story.  I hope you enjoy
  reading this half as much as I have enjoyed writing it!


--
Chuck Tryon
    work: bilbo@kodak.com                                Your Servant,
    home: bilbo@Bah.Rochester.NY.US                      B. Baggins
 ______________________________________________________________________
   Experience is what you get when you were expecting something else.