03 - Sword of Vengeance Read Online Free

had taken place quickly. So quickly that
men marvelled at it as far afield as Streissen and Nuln. Though the Leitdorf’s
and the Alptraums between them had erected plenty of follies in their long years
of rule, each had taken years to complete. In a matter of weeks, the Iron
Tower’s foundations had been laid and the skeleton metal frame had shot up into
the sky.
    Despite the wonders of engineering, the Tower was not
popular. Soon after work had started, ordinary folk of the poor quarter had
learned to give it a wide berth. Few willingly walked under the shadow of the
great iron spurs that marked out its future outline. Any who had to pass close
by scratched the sign of the comet on their chests. It had an evil rumour, and
in private many started to call it Grosslich’s Folly.
    No one knew for certain why the Tower was so hated.
After all, the new elector was wildly popular. Order had been restored to the
city, and the gold was flowing again through the merchants’ coffers. It was even
hissed in quiet corners that joyroot could be found again, though its trade had
been heavily curtailed.
    Still, the stories kept coming. A baby had been born in sight
of the Tower with three arms and no eyes. Milk curdled across the city when the
foundation stone had been laid. No birds would fly within a mile of it, they
said, turning Averheim silent at dawn and dusk. All fanciful tales, no doubt.
All unreliable, plucked from the gossipy lips of old wives with nothing better
to do.
    But the world was a strange place, and old wives weren’t
always wrong. What no one could deny was that, from time to time, attractive
youths were still going missing. Not many—just one or two, here and there -
but enough to attract attention. That had been going on even before the days of
the Tower, and folk had put it down to the evil times with no elector. Grosslich
had even issued an edict on the matter, promising death for any found engaged in
the grisly removal of Averland’s next generation.
    It didn’t stop the disappearances. Like the slow drip of a
tap, they carried on. It was worse around the Tower, some said. Many believed
the rumours, even though there was no proof. It was all hearsay, conjecture and
idle talk.
    Heinz-Mark Grosslich, still dressed in the robes he’d worn to
receive the Imperial messenger, found himself enjoying the irony of it all as he
headed towards the Tower. The foolish, the ignorant and the savage were quite
capable of seeing what was going on under their noses. Only the wise were blind
to the horror that lurked around them. Blind, that is, until it was far too
late.
    Night had fallen. The Tower building site was heavily guarded
by men of the elector’s inner circle, loyal soldiers who’d seen the fight
against Leitdorf through from the beginning. As he approached the perimeter of
the works, Grosslich saw half a dozen of them leap to attention. They looked
surprised to see him walking on his own. They shouldn’t have been. He’d been
back and forth between the Tower and the Averburg several times a day for the
past couple of weeks. When the work was completed it would become the new seat
of power in Averland. The Averburg would have to go. The city needed a fresh
start, a new way of doing things.
    He nodded to the guards as he passed their cordon and entered
the site. None of them would ever go further inside—their job was to patrol
the fences. That didn’t mean the interior was unguarded, just that the guards
there were of a more specialised type.
    Once past the fences, the building came into view properly.
It had the appearance of an upturned claw. Huge iron shafts had been sunk into
the earth, on top of which the structure was now being raised. When finished,
the Tower would resemble a giant dark needle, soaring up into the high airs and
dominating the land around it. There would be a turret at the very pinnacle
sending six spikes out over the cityscape, each twenty feet