4
“We’re finally here.”
Parn panted with exhaustion, bent over with his hands on his knees. Even after they’d spotted the tower, getting there had taken longer than they’d expected—there were so many switchbacks and detours on the mountain trail that they began to suspect the old Magus had done it on purpose.
Throughout the grueling day, Parn had gotten more and more annoyed with the mage and their whole situation. And annoyances aside, a peerless mage choosing a life of seclusion despite his great abilities made no sense to Parn.
“It’s just like King Fahn said,” Parn had complained over and over throughout the day. “He’s a stubborn old man who hates everyone.”
Deedlit had voiced her agreement every time Parn said it, but eventually it got so tedious that she finally snapped, “If you dislike him so much, why don’t you just go back to Roid?” They’d traveled in stony silence ever since.
That kind of argument had become more common between them. Parn was becoming more assertive, which meant more bickering. And for every noble thing that came out of his mouth, he’d say something equally immature later. She didn’t dislike that part of him necessarily, but it confused her. For every two steps Parn took toward his true potential, he seemed to take one step back.
Still, though, Parn had seemed different since leaving Roid. Inspired by King Fahn and King Kashue, he was finally growing into a leader.
Slayn had noticed the change in Parn, too. He felt like he had to advise him less often. Slayn had told the others that, after their current journey ended, he was going to help Ghim find whatever it was he was looking for. The wizard was sure that Parn had started to walk down the right path and could practically see their futures—Parn would become a knight of Valis and Etoh would join the Pharis Temple in Roid. Slayn and Ghim would continue their journey and Woodchuck…well, who knew what Woodchuck would do next?
Deedlit was also unsure of what to do next. If Parn was knighted, there would be no reason to stay with him. But she didn’t want to journey alone, and she had no intention of going back home. She just couldn’t decide. She kept telling herself that it wasn’t worth worrying over—maybe, once this trip ended, things would fall into place.
From the outside, the Magus Tower was unadorned and plain. For all intents and purposes, it looked like a regular castle watchtower. It was perched on an empty, rocky mountain peak, and they couldn’t help but wonder how someone could live there.
As they carefully made their way to the double doors leading into the tower, their breath caught in their throats. The door handles were shaped like dragons.
Parn raised a hand tentatively to knock, but before he could do so, the door slowly creaked open on its own.
“Whoa!” Parn shouted, pulling back. “Heh…what a joker. Does he want to give people heart attacks?” The interior of the tower was dimly lit and difficult to see, but when Parn leaned closer to look inside, the lights came on by themselves. “What the heck is this?!”
“It’s just simple magic. He’s a Magus, after all—even his basic spells are extraordinary.”
“He’s showing off!” Parn objected.
“Let’s just go inside already. Yelling out here won’t solve anything,” Deedlit said, stepping through the doorway.
“Hello!” she called out. “I am Deedlit the elf, here on a mission from King Fahn of Valis!” Her voice echoed in the empty tower. The only things inside were a staircase heading down to the basement and another staircase that ran up in a spiral along the wall, ending at a single door.
Deedlit waited, but there was no response to her call. “Now what?” Deedlit turned to ask an anxious Parn.
“He better not be gone,” Parn answered, shuddering at the thought. The thought that they might’ve come all this way only for the Magus to be out just wasn’t funny.
“It seems someone’s upstairs—I can hear talking.” Slayn lowered his hood and stepped inside. “I can also feel magic here—many spells that only a great wizard could cast.” Slayn cautiously approached the spiral staircase and stood on the first step to test it. Under his foot, the stairs suddenly flashed with pale blue light and started ascending with a low groan. “Well, this is convenient—if only they could cast this spell on the stairs of the castle of Valis. I had quite a bit of trouble with them.” Slayn let out a laugh and turned to Parn as he was carried upstairs.
They had spent three days at the castle after the ball, deeply meaningful days for Slayn and Parn. Slayn had had a chance to peruse the rare and valuable books in Elm’s collection—and, as he’d promised at the ball, Kashue had given Parn sword lessons. Etoh was appointed an official cleric by High Priest Genart and assigned to serve the Valis court upon his return. They both wanted to assist in national affairs. Ghim had taken ten gold coins from their reward and crafted something in the castle smithy. Only Deedlit and Woodchuck had spent their time idle.
The moving staircase carried Slayn steadily upwards. “Don’t go by yourself!” Parn shouted, jumping onboard in a panic.
I guess it probably won’t eat me, Woodchuck told himself as he gingerly stepped on. The other three soon joined him.
The landing in front of the door was small—not really large enough for six people to stand on. They clustered there awkwardly for a moment before Parn spoke up.
“Excuse me,” he called out. “I’m Parn, a travelling warrior, and I’m coming in.” He pushed the door open—this one didn’t open on its own. Beyond was a spiral passageway, a gentle slope with a rough-paved stone floor for surer footing. Parn continued onward, and the others followed behind—but this time they only took one trip around the tower before they reached a pair of doors, side by side.
Listening carefully, they could hear voices coming from the door on the right. Parn wondered who on earth would visit such a place—well, other than him and his friends.
“Excuse me…no one responded when we arrived, so we let ourselves in. Oh! I’m Parn, a traveling warrior,” he announced to the air again.
“Get in here already!” a gruff, elderly-sounding voice responded. That had to be the Great Magus Wort.
Parn breathed a sigh of relief to find out that the Magus was home. He slowly stepped inside, already in a low, respectful bow—but when he raised his head, he couldn’t believe his eyes.
“K-Karla…” he groaned, trailing off into shocked silence.
Deedlit’s hand flew to her mouth—her other reached unconsciously for her rapier. “Why are you here?” she asked, her face gone pale.
“You will not fight here!” the old man yelled sharply. At his words, Deedlit felt her muscles freeze by the power of an outside source.
Finally, Karla spoke. “Don’t worry, I don’t intend to start anything here. I just wanted another chance to speak to all of you. So, come in.”
The table in the center of the room held a glass for each of them, with several bottles of wine, roast venison served on a platter, and fresh fruit and vegetables piled high. The mages had clearly been waiting for them.
“All right, we’ll listen,” Parn agreed. He was still in shock, but he took Karla’s words as a challenge. He crossed the room and sat down, prepared to draw his sword at a moment’s notice. His hateful glare never once left her face.
Ghim took the other empty chair unprompted, and the other four fanned out behind them, still standing. Woodchuck cowered as far from Karla as he could manage, trying to look inconspicuous.
An awkward silence filled the room.
Karla offered drinks, then poured herself a glass and gracefully drank to show that it wasn’t poisoned.
“The glasses and wine are from my personal collection, so don’t worry,” the old man chimed in.
“Let’s talk first,” Parn said, leaning forward. “What are you doing here? How did you know we were coming?”
Karla smiled at the furious young warrior and settled in the seat next to him. Ghim kept staring, inspecting her from head to toe—Karla gave him one glance before turning back to the warrior.