A ball of fire appeared on the wall below the ledge, revealing Gawain, clutching monkey-like to the stone. She grinned at him and scurried up the wall to the far ledge. “Come on!”
Twain backed up, giving the swinging rope a look. Is it going to hold my weight? Frayed and dry, it was on its last legs. He bit his lip, then shook his head. Only one way to find out.
One. Two. Three. He leaped out into the void. His hand twisted around the rope, and he swung out toward the other ledge.
Snap.
Twain fell. He plunged into the void, clutching to the broken rope. Shit! Gawain reached out to him, but her stubby hands were too far to reach.
Thump. His butt hit something hard. Startled, Twain reached down. A glassy surface appeared under him, glowing faintly with old spellwork. He pushed his hand out in front of him. More of the surface appeared, glowing where he touched it.
“Whoa, how’d you know about that part of the secret? Even I didn’t know!” Gawain said, impressed.
“I didn’t,” Twain said. He climbed to his feet slowly. The smooth surface provided almost no grip, and gave little indication where it started and ended. He slid his foot forward, testing the water, then followed with another step, and another, slowly crossing the void.
Motion caught his eye. He looked up and caught a faint outline, glowing in the darkness behind Gawain. A woman with short blonde hair smiled at him for a moment, gently waving as she faded away. Twain stared. That… wasn’t that the fifth Mage-Emperor?
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“Blessed by the Mage-Emperors and inhabited by the Dark King. Aren’t you special?” Xenozar grumbled in his ear.
Twain flicked his ear, trying to shut off Xenozar’s voice.
“Huh? What’re you looking at?” Gawain spun around, but the glowing woman had vanished.
“Nothing. What’s this door do?” Twain gestured at the ornate shape before them.
Gawain grinned. “Takes you places.”
“That’s… what most doors do,” Twain replied.
“Special places. C’mon, c’mon. Open it!” Gawain jiggled in place, overcome with excitement.
It was probably made by a Mage-Emperor, so it’s got to be a powerful artifact. Twain twisted the knob and pushed it open.
Sunlight awaited him on the other side, and, twenty or thirty feet away, a stone wall. It stretched up, down, left, right, in all directions. Twain frowned. “Uh, is this…”
“Bye bye!” Gawain shoved him through the door.
Twain staggered a step and stepped onto air. He fell into a somersault and found himself plunging, drawn by an inexorable force toward the wall.
His eyes widened as he took in the blue sky all around the door above him, the buildings rapidly rising up around him as he turned to face up. Not the wall, the floor!
Gawain waved one last time, then shut the door. It vanished, leaving only blue sky. He pedaled his arms and legs, reaching for something, anything. Shit! I don’t want to die like this—
He plunged into something soft and bounced. The world swayed gently around him. Someone giggled, a melodic sound. Twain stared around, taking in cloudy pillows and gorgeous women, all leaning in over him.
Is this what heaven’s like?
One of his new angels laughed and thumped him on the chest. “That’s just like you, Mouse, always showing up when we least expect it.”
Twain blinked. He sat up. “Eleda?”
“In the flesh. And you, my friend, are in a shitload of trouble.”
Guards crowded in all around them. A half-dozen spears leveled at Twain. All around him, the beautiful sun elves squealed and retreated, except for Eleda, who shook her head at him. Draped in fine silks and gold, she sprawled atop cushions, shifting lazily with the sway of the carriage.
“Honestly. Would it have killed you to be a little subtle?”