The Hidden Tower (The Portal Wars Saga #1)

by James E. Wisher

“At least in Garenland I have basic rights as a citizen. I’m free to live as an ordinary man if I choose not to use my magic. Not that I ever would. But in Straken they hang then burn anyone that shows wizard potential. In Rolan and the other kingdoms they use us as slaves.

Be grateful that you were born in Garenland. Being of the nobility would offer you no protection in the other lands. Now show me your fire.”

“You’re not here to instruct Graves in the dangers of magic. You’re supposed to be learning the sword.” “So you keep telling me. Has it not yet become abundantly clear that I have no aptitude for dueling? If I ever find myself in a situation where my life depends on my skill with the blade, I’m done for. I made peace with that within a month of beginning my training. If you ordered Graves to pound on me from now until doomsday it wouldn’t change a thing. Better for everyone if you stop wasting his time and let me focus on the things I’m actually good at.” “Like magic?” The contempt in Father’s voice hurt worse than the blow to his head. “You will gain no respect for your wizardry and the fact of its existence will prevent you from inheriting any land or leading men in war.”

“Shall we move this along?” The disagreeable voice of Stephan the Elder came from deeper in the suite. “I mean to go hunting this afternoon.” Ever the caring husband. Stephan and his bride of five years, Griswalda, had fallen in hate at first sight. Not that either of their fathers cared in the least. Griswalda’s father ruled a small but wealthy county on Shenk Barony’s eastern border. The old count had no sons, so when he died his county would be absorbed into the barony, increasing its size by a quarter. For such a prize Father would have wedded Stephan to a goat. “Coming, brother.” Otto led his mother back to the bedroom. Lying on the bed under a mound of blankets was the blushing bride herself. Only the woman’s piggish face, surrounded by a mound of greasy, dark curls, peeked out from under the covers. Otto had on occasion wondered how his brother worked himself up sufficiently to bed the woman, but ultimately the less he thought about that the more his stomach approved. “I understand congratulations are in order.” Otto sat on the edge of the bed. “Just get on with it.” Stephan glowered from his chair in the corner. Otto glanced at his oldest brother. Stephan was big and broad like their father. Receding dirty-blond hair hung down the front of his brown tunic. Angry blue eyes stared at the world from under heavy brows. They’d never gotten along; too different Otto had always assumed. Over the years he’d come to realize Stephan hated everyone. That made him feel oddly b...

Otto glanced at his oldest brother. Stephan was big and broad like their father. Receding dirty-blond hair hung down the front of his brown tunic. Angry blue eyes stared at the world from under heavy brows. They’d never gotten along; too different Otto had always assumed. Over the years he’d come to realize Stephan hated everyone. That made him feel oddly better.

Father and Stephan must have gone on an early morning hunt. Part of him wanted to feel indignant that they hadn’t asked him to join them, but he didn’t have it in him. Otto had never cared much for hunting. As far as he could tell it was just an excuse for the men to get drunk and ride around. Heaven help any farmer’s daughter out this morning. Stephan’s appetites were well known amongst the country lasses. No doubt more than one Shenk bastard wandered the barony.

Most of the people had packed into one of the three small temples. The Shenk family had never been overly religious and Otto considered most of it superstitious nonsense. His father ostensibly prayed to Branik, the King of Swords, but the archangel was largely honored on his two holy days and ignored the rest of the time, barring an upcoming battle. Otto sometimes wondered if the many archangels and demon lords ever grew bored with the self-serving prayers of men. Most people he knew only cared about them when they needed something. For Otto, the wisest path seemed to be to ignore them all and hope they returned the favor.

When he arrived at the part about the wizard purges Karonin stopped him. “All the wizards were killed?” Disbelief rang in her voice. “Perhaps not all, but all the ones that were known to have served, well, you. The books make it sound like a great bloody mess. The wizards killed many soldiers, but in the end were badly outnumbered and eventually they grew so exhausted they couldn’t hurl spells anymore. Once that happened the war came to a swift end.” “Surely new wizards were born. You’re here after all.”

“True. For many generations anyone showing signs of magic was killed at once. That’s still the law in the Kingdom of Straken to the north. In Garenland, the kings eventually realized wizards would be of use in the forges, helping create high-quality steel and more importantly, working mithril. The law still imposes many limits on what a wizard can do, but at least here we are no longer murdered out of hand.”

Her lips twisted. “How high-minded. Our kind has been reduced to little more than slaves to the people we once rule...

“He reactivated the portals, but only for those countries that signed the Portal Compact agreeing not to invade or otherwise harm the other members. We’ve become dependent on them for swift, safe travel and trade. They’ve made us rich and soft, or so my father claims.” “So there are no more wars?” she asked. “Not between the nations of this continent.

Time to try his new spell. He pulled a glass rod and a small square of sheepskin. He’d barely touched them together to begin building up the necessary spark when Karonin said, “What in the world are you doing?” “Building up a charge for an electrical spell.” “What ignorant buffoon has overseen your training? The reason lightning is the most common offensive spell used by wizards is that the body produces a constant flow of electricity. It’s what allows you to control your physical functions.” Otto held up his hand and looked at it. “Truly?” “Of course, truly. Send your thread into your hand then shape the electricity into lightning.” He did as she said and immediately the crackling power grew in his palm. A moment later blue sparks danced around his fingers. Why hadn’t Master Enoch taught him this method?

“Don’t tell me you’ve only mastered single-thread spells?” “In all honesty I didn’t even know it was possible to wield more than one thread.” “Ha! An Arcane Lord had the ability to control over a hundred threads at once. Even a regular wizard can weave multiple-thread spells.” Otto’s head spun. A hundred etheric threads at once? What could he accomplish with that much power? “Will you teach me?” She opened her eyes and smiled.

All that mattered for now was that one of the most powerful wizards to have ever lived had agreed to teach him. So much had been lost since the time of the Arcane Lords, but she probably knew every secret in the universe. That she was dead didn’t trouble him in the least.