I blinked open my eyes, my face squashed against what felt like a damp sack of jellybeans. The memory came flooding back: getting clocked by Gloria and nursing my shiner with this makeshift ice pack.
I vowed to never whip out Singing Blade in the company of friends again.
A knock jolted me from my contemplation. Hauling myself up, I ambled to the door, bracing for the innkeeper’s gruff face. Instead, a trio of surprised eyes greeted me. Gloria, never one for formalities, bulldozed her way in, leaving me skidding on the wooden floor in nothing more than my underwear. That wouldn’t hurt from seeing some soap.
“Took you long enough! We’ve been waiting downstairs forever!” she said. In a mad scramble, I attempted to dress, twirling in a comedic ballet before I finally trapped both legs in my trousers. “Where’s the stash?” she pressed.
“Right over there,” I motioned towards the bag, which leaned lazily against an antique bed, reminiscent of something from a 19th-century period drama, probably ‘Pride and Prejudice.’.
“Ah, the tales of your escapades have reached even my ears, Mr. Tim. A Giant! Quite the feather in your cap,” Merlin mused, inspecting the crystals with interest. “It is commendable that you left the surplus crystals on the mountain.”
“Well, actually, Glo…” I began, but a swift elbow to the ribs halted my confession.
Merlin, engrossed in with the crystals, cocked his head. “Hm?”
“Just reminiscing about the mountain air,” I covered quickly, throwing a glance at Gloria. She still looked mad, but she didn’t have the same hateful look as she had on the mountain the moment before she knocked me out.
“Right then. Give me till twilight, and your spell will be ready.” Merlin began arranging the crystals methodically on the table, alongside an array of strangely labeled vials that looked suspiciously like repurposed soda bottles. He flashed us a grin that clearly said ‘it’s time for the magicians to do magiciany things’. “A little space for the master at work, if you’d be so kind.”
Reaching for my bag, Gloria unexpectedly yanked me out of the room. Seriously, was this the medieval fantasy equivalent of ‘pulling pigtails’? Memories of schoolyard antics flitted across my mind. Was she flirting with me, or was that my concussion talking?
Back at The Round, Imrin and his cart had pulled a vanishing act. Villagers ambled about, eyebrows raised in curiosity, likely conjuring up tales of where he’d dashed off to while they continued their predictable NPC routine.
“So, what’s the plan?” Gloria asked me when we were sitting inside Lurin’s tent. The tent was a study in minimalism—just a bed and a central fireplace. With every move we made, the bed creaked and groaned, and I swear I saw Lurin silently praying.
“Eh, I don’t know. Go to the old town and fight Fønix?”
Luri rubbed his chin. “Yes. But we need to be prepared. We don’t know what spell Merlin is cooking for us,” he said and looked at Gloria and me. “We need to do whatever we can to be prepared for whatever will meet us, and we need a lot of Aqua Vita and Aqua Vigour.”
“I know how to make healing potions, but I don’t know how to make mana potions,” I said. They both looked at me strangely. “Aqua Vita and Aqua Vigour,” I sighed.
“You’ll need the essence of Vigour. They are found within the enchanted forest.” Lurin said.
“Where’s that?”
“On the opposite side of Mt. High. If you and Glorimrinelyn head there to gather essences, I’ll venture to the lush forest for the flowers,” Lurin replied. Before he finished the sentence, Gloria was on her feet.
“We have to move fast if we want to beat the sunset,” she exclaimed, swiftly grabbing my collar, hoisting me up.
“Alright, alright, on our way,” I mumbled, trailing out of the tent behind her. Casting a glance back, I caught Lurin perched on the bed, his smirk all too evident. That bastard.
We navigated the winding path that led deeper into the enchanted forest. The crunch of leaves underfoot and the soft glow of the twin moons above set a serene yet tense atmosphere. Gloria moved with a natural ease, her eyes scanning the environment as if reading an old but cherished book.
“You’re comfortable here,” I said, “as if the forest recognizes you.”
Gloria simply nodded. “If you respect the forest, it respects you back. Just like any relationship should work.”
That seemed like the perfect segue. “Speaking of relationships, I’ve been curious about you and your father.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Her pace slowed, and for a moment, a veil of hardness covered her eyes. “Some things are better left in the past, Tim.”
“Is that how it’s going to be? Dodging around each other’s history? I want to know more about you,” I said, not hiding my frustration.
Gloria stopped, turning to face me squarely. “My past is just that—my past. And it’s my choice to keep it there.”
Here was my dilemma, etched in the dim moonlight and our locked gazes. Push her to open up and risk her pulling away, or respect her boundaries, but forever wonder? I made my choice.
“I can’t, Gloria,” I said softly, but resolute. “If we’re going to walk this journey together, I need to know who I’m walking with. Your father—”
“That’s enough,” she interjected sharply, her eyes almost flaring. “I’ve told you, that’s off-limits.”
The weighty silence that followed spoke volumes. I had overstepped, and even the forest seemed to hold its breath in the awkward pause that followed.
Gloria finally broke the silence. “Let’s get the essence of we came for. We can talk—or not talk—another time.”
***
“Here it is Lurin. We could only carry so much because Tim forgot to take his bag with him, make them count,” Gloria said as she placed the five essences on the floor in his tent. His eyes blinked groggily. The kind you get from a surprise wake-up call.
“Alright, alright, progress. See those satchels on the shelf? Fetch, um, ten of them,” Lurin mumbled, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
I hurriedly grabbed the satchels.
“Good, good. If you add the essences, Gloria the water, and I will cast the spell. They are very brittle those essences, so be careful you don’t break them.” I looked at the five essences on the floor and the ten satchels in my hand.
“How do I split them in two?” I asked.
“What? Didn’t you listen? I told you to be gentle, don’t be an essence butcher.” Lurin said. I shook my head and bit down on the snarky comment about learning to count before casting spells. I went to work, and after struggling with the first essence, I found a technique that worked for me. We placed the five satchels in Gloria’s bag and returned to the Inn. Just in time for the sun to set.
The loud, rhythmic snoring was hard to miss, even outside my room. Pushing the door open, I found Merlin sprawled on my bed, his trademark pointy hat covering his face, bobbing with each snore. Irritated, I gave the bed a forceful shove - maybe a tad too forceful, prompting me to whisper a Rest spell to soothe my sore foot.
“What in the–? Oh, it’s you. You’re back, good, good. Just wrapped up my...er, deeply intense spell meditation. The task is complete!” Merlin mumbled, slowly sitting up. I had always pictured him with a majestic white mane under the hat, but in its place was a scalp as bald as a gleaming cue ball.
“You know, for legendary figures, you are lazy, always letting someone else run your errands while you take a nap. I’m fed up with being your errand boy!” I blurted out. Sensing Gloria’s swift movement from the corner of my eye, I deftly sidestepped and pulled out my Doss. In a blink, I had her under my suggestion spell influence.
“SIT!” I commanded. Without hesitation, she took a seat right there on the floor.
“You...you actually did it...” Lurin murmured, gaping at the sight of Gloria sitting crossed legged on the floor. She might have been seated, but those fiery eyes were a clear sign she wasn’t down for long.
The moment I stopped playing the lute, Gloria was on top of me, her knives crossed before my throat. Just as I thought that was the end, her weight suddenly lifted.
“Gloria, HALT!” Merlin’s voice rang out, and in a split second, an unseen force flung her through the door, leaving her sprawled in the corridor. Gripping my rapier, I got to my feet, ready for anything. But when she returned, her weapons were nowhere in sight.
“Apologies,” she whispered, her gaze lowering in Merlin’s direction. The sheer might of the wizard left me questioning what he truly was capable of.
She stepped closer and offered her hand. As I took it, realization dawned on me. She was the first in this world to offer a handshake.
My eyes widened as I uttered my thoughts, “Are you a…” but was abruptly interrupted by Merlin, who yanked me away.
“ENOUGH! Are you here to battle Volcanic or each other?” Merlin demanded, his patience evidently thinning. He didn’t give us a chance to respond. “As I was saying, the spell is complete. Read these.” From within his coat, he produced three scrolls and handed them over, his piercing gaze oscillating between Gloria and me.
Congratulations! You’ve gained the crossover skill: Wall of Ice. This defensive spell provides a barrier against magical damage, most potent against its elemental opposite—Fire magic. It’s a mana-based skill with a duration of 60 breaths and can be recast every 60 breaths using the incantation: Ice wall.
I was thrilled about having a defensive spell, though I had secretly hoped for something more epic, like an Ice Orb or Ice Spear. But this was still something.
“Thank you,” I said, turning to Gloria. “I’m sorry. It’s been a rough couple of days, and I shouldn’t have lost my temper.” My eyes lingered on the hand I had just shaken. Where had she picked up that gesture? Merlin was unfamiliar with it, and I hadn’t introduced it to her. Was it naïve to assume I was the sole person from my world here? I had been navigating based on the belief that I was traversing my own fantasy. A belief I recognized as a comforting illusion more than anything.
“You are now prepared,” Merlin declared, hoisting his backpack as he headed for the damaged door. The innkeeper’s impending reaction to the ruined entrance filled me with apprehension. As Merlin stepped through the remnants of the doorway, he paused, looking back with a mischievous grin.
“To succeed in your mission, you must harness all your skills, trust one another, and strategize wisely.”
“Can’t you help us?” I implored. His power was apparent, especially after witnessing how effortlessly he’d handled Gloria.
“I’m afraid I can’t,” he responded with a hint of regret. “I’ve already overstepped the boundaries of my role as a mentor. There are ancient protocols I must adhere to. However, don’t be disheartened, Mr. Tim. I genuinely believe you have the capability needed to conquer the gatekeeper. Hold on to the lessons you’ve learned.” As Merlin exited, he made a nonchalant gesture towards the broken door in the hallway. Within moments, the fragments reassembled and attached themselves back in place.
Who on earth - or purgatory - was this man?
After Merlin’s departure, a palpable tension filled the room. The three of us stood in quiet contemplation, each grappling with the weight of anticipation. It was the sensation one feels right before embarking on a long-anticipated, yet daunting journey, that unmistakable moment when you cross the point of no return.