The Staff of the Winds (The Wizard of South Corner Book 1) by William Meighan

immediately spotted his attackers.
    The gorn seemed to have no neck, but above the center of the ribcage, where a neck should be, there was a shallow indentation; Owen marked this as his target. Completely relaxed, Owen allowed the arrow to release. Almost no time had elapsed since the gorn had risen, but with his drawing of the arrow and selection of the target, time stopped being a factor. Owen was easily able to follow the flight of the arrow despite the dim light as it cleaved the air and settled deeply with a hollow thunk precisely where it was intended.  The gorn crashed back, thrashed and gurgled on the ground for a moment, then lay still.
    The second gorn rose right behind his partner, snatched up a huge club, and was charging the boys by the time the first gorn hit the ground. Jack was surprised at the speed of the onrushing gorn, but managed to place a cloth yard of heavy shaft in the gorn’s chest, just right of center. The gorn faltered for a moment, then with a bellow resumed his rush.
    Surprised that the gorn had not fallen, both Owen and Jack reached quickly for their second arrow. Owen was a heartbeat ahead, drew and sent his shaft right through the gorn’s left eye. The gorn crumpled and collapsed, sliding on the ground a mere eleven paces from where Owen stood.
    Just then, Marian shouted: “Top of the tower!” and let fly with a second stone that she had been swinging.
    Jack pulled his bow up and around, and snapped a shot at the head of a gorn who was leaning over and looking down at them from between the crenellation at the top of the tower.  The gorn jerked back out of sight, and both rock and arrow skipped off of the stone near where his head had been.
    “Come on!” yelled Owen, and grabbing his staff he raced around the tower to the south side to cover the exit.
    The boys stared at the open doorway, arrows half drawn, but the opening just stared back at them dark and silent.
    “We’re going to have to go in after him,” Owen said, reluctantly. “He may have some means to signal for reinforcements. We can’t let that happen.”
    Owen took off his quiver and handed it to Marian. “Take my bow, and if he comes out that door, kill him. Don’t let him get past you, if he raises the alarm we’ll have the whole army after us.
    “Jack, shall we enter the great-cat’s den?”
    Jack took a deep breath, put down his bow and pulled out his knife.  “Let’s go.”
    Owen led the way up the narrow stairs, while Marian covered the door and the battlement overhead with Owen’s bow. Owen held his staff ready for a thrust and parry, hoping that no attack would come until he was in a place with better footing. When he reached the door, he peaked quickly inside and pulled back again.
    The door opened into a large round room that took up the full base of the tower. There were no windows or arrow slits at this level, and there was still not much light coming in through the open door. Owen couldn’t be sure, but he did not think that the gorn was on this level. With a rush, Owen went through the door, with Jack close behind. He quickly braced himself on the sticky floor, ready for an attack, but there was only silence.
    Owen’s eyes were adjusting slowly to the dim interior, and his headache seemed to be receding.  Looking quickly around, he saw only some trash on the floor at one side and an enclosed staircase spiraling up the opposite side.  There was no sign of the gorn, but there was a strong, putrid smell in the air that reminded Owen of a hog butchering that had gone bad.
    Owen motioned Jack to stay behind him and to his left, and he silently eased over to the base of the stairs. The stairs were made of heavy oak planks with stone walls on each side. Wide enough to swing a sword, they opened up dark and empty before him, spiraling up out of sight to the roof and battlements above. Somewhat protected from the elements, they appeared to be solid. Slowly, and as quietly as possible, Owen began to