“Can I ask something, Zyd?” Alp said.

“What!?”

“Your pa—he lended us all this food—how, I mean—why do you do this, if you don't got to?”

“Ee does et fur the hon-or, whey else?” Guinevere said.

Alp’s eyes lit up. “Really? Is that why?”

“Uh,” Zyd’s gaze averted, “yeah, sure. I’m just trying to do good, you know? That’s me. I could have three wives in Kaimas and—a house the size of that rock! That one, over there! But who’d that be helping except me?”

“At’s the saym fur yew, eh?”

“Me?” Alp said. “Well…I’ve always loved the stories, but…my sister just had a baby, and we don’t know what else to do…we’re real poor in Swep-Nos…”

“Whin Ieh waz calt Ieh thot et waz jost fur me trybe, too, but thaen Ieh saw the surtaf gud Ieh coulda dew! Whe’ll show ‘em all!”

Guinevere craned her head toward Eris, who was trying her best to trail a safe distance behind her newest companions. She did not trust them with the sharp objects they carried.

The crazed look in the barbarian’s eye unnerved her.

“…why are you staring are me?” Eris said, disgust unmasked.

“Wat aboet yoo?”

Derision was the only response. “Why, I had hardly considered until now! But since you ask, why, it must be the lovely company and the wonderful conversations. Yes, I think that’s it!”

“Eris is just a bitch!” Zyd said. “She doesn’t care about honor at all. Or glory. Or even fame! Not like me!”

“That kinnot bee troo; wat yuse ez der en lyf if neh wan ramembers yoo aftar yoore gon?”

“One may ask what is the point in life when you cannot think, see, or hear, and yet trees live on regardless,” Eris said. “Tell me: what good does honor do you when you are in the dragon’s jaws?”

Guinevere knew the answer to this one off the top of her head and practically leaped with joy at the question. “Dyeing ez eazie whan ya no yeve dyed ah gud def.”

“And how would you know, when any who have died are not alive to tell you whether or not it they found it easier with or without honor?”

Eris could think of a few retorts to that line, and no doubt Rook would have had a suitably witty one himself, but the barbarian was not evidently a creature of intellect. She fell into a state of deep thought thereafter, unable to reconcile this apparent contradiction. Eris used the opportunity to hammer her point again:

“You cannot touch honor. You cannot feel honor. It is immaterial and worthless. At least fame may bring something valuable in time; you would do better fighting for that than ‘honor.’”

A long silence.

“I’d just be okay with a few gold coins to send home,” Alp said.

“We would all do well to settle for that,” Eris replied.

----------------------------------------

They followed the road north until sunset. Zyd led the way. Come nightfall they moved into the woods, whereupon they found an old path through the trees. A light drizzle fell. The terrain grew steeper and steeper with every step. Eris’ backpack might have tugged heavily at her shoulders if it wasn’t empty save her bedroll and a few camping supplies, but in fact it felt quite light all the journey through.

The night was spent under an overhanging rock. Eris’ pride was not strong enough that she refused to eat the food prepared for her. The halfling, the barbarian, and the shieldbearer talked late into the night; Eris rested in solitude. When sleep didn’t come she watched the gray clouds through the canopy. On sunny days and clear nights it was always hard to see the mana aurora, the aether, that snaked through the heavens in bright shining lights, but against the backdrop of the clouds it was unmissable. Dim red, blue, green, and golden lines flickered overhead and weaved through the atmosphere like roots in search of water underground.

It was an entrancing sight. Even more entrancing was to imagine the power contained within those lights. It was an infinite well of arcane energy. A mage who tapped into the aether, who was no longer burdened by Manastone or the energy in the air, could fashion existence entirely after her own will.

The things Eris could do with that power…

That was why she was an adventurer. Not for honor, not for fame, not for glory. For power.

----------------------------------------

Come morning they set back down the trail, before it disappeared altogether. The rain fell harder. Eris was left with nothing to do but hope Zyd took them in the right direction. Presently they were submerged in a sea of thick trees and dense foliage. Every half mile they reached enough of a clearing that they could look down to see all of Rytus below: the ocean to the west, Kaimas at the shore, miles of forest everywhere, Thermopos Mountain; even the Spire, far off to the south, was visible in the distant, distant, distance.

Then they kept climbing, until...

They found it.

At the edge of a sheer cliff five thousand feet down was an old tower. An ancient tower, made entirely of black bricks, surrounded on all sides by thick green trees. Its body was circular, solid, no windows, two or three storeys; the top had a parapet, but the angle was too steep to get a glimpse at what it guarded.

At its bottom was a tall stone door sealed shut.

“That’s it!” Zyd whispered. “That’s the tower! Come on, hide!”

He led them into cover in the brush. From there they surveilled the area, watching for any sign of habitation, and slowly flanking around the ridge through the woods. It was high summer, humid and hot, but by now Eris was so soaked through by the downpour off the trees above that each gust of wind felt like a blizzard.

They reached the northern approach. Another sheer drop. The tower was placed precariously. But at its rear, beneath more tree, concealed by shrubs, was a wagon. Too big to fit through the door.

On its top, a large leaden coffin.

Zyd pointed.

“I told you! See! It’s them!”

It was the same container they’d seen outside the Manastone Mines, no doubt. Taken from Erkent and dragged all the way through the hills to this place for safekeeping.

They explained the situation to the new members of the party.

“D-d-d-d-do you t-t-think they’re h-h-h-home?” Alp stuttered.

“Hoo caers—daemm thes waytin, les goe bash dawn tha doar!” Guinevere said.

“Yeah, you go first, Guin. Good idea. Yeah!” Zyd said.

“Wait,” Eris said. “The door is no doubt locked, or trapped. We may be able to enter from elsewhere.”

“Like where, sister? Got any bright ideas?”

“I have, in fact. But it will not be easy. Follow.” She led them toward the wagon. Keeping low. “Help me.” They reached the lid; its seal was still released, though it was seated in place, and the four of them together pushed it off.

A blue light shined back at them.

The unrefined Manastone was still within. Rainwater polled around it. The coffin’s confines a basin. Each ounce crackled with energy.

Eris glanced up. The tower narrowed with each storey.

She put a hand over the Manastone. Its energy coursed into her veins. Yes, she could do this. She focused, pulling more mana into herself, before saying, “Get onto the wagon.”

“Whae?”

“Do it! Hold on.”

After only a few seconds hesitation they complied, then Eris followed after. She balanced herself on the wagon’s back, by the lead container, close to the stone, and used its power to do what she had only ever before tried to do in miniature:

She lifted the wagon.

She reached out to the space around her with her mind and, in those moments, felt the extension of her body made manifest through mana as entirely as if it were her physical form. Invisible hands braced against its bottom. Arcane biceps straining. Muscles of will burning.

There was a lurch and a crack in the wood. Alp yelled. Guinevere laughed. Zyd screamed and pleaded:

“Put us down! Put us down, put us down, put us down…”

Careful breathing. She wasn’t listening. A branch brushed against her face; they were still rising. Up. Higher. Still moving…

She opened her eyes, having hardly realized they were closed, and saw they were thirty feet in the air. The Manastone was pulsating against her; she felt it like her own heartbeat, every throb bringing new vigor, until—

They passed the top of the tower. Over its parapets.

“Jump,” she gasped. “Jump!”

Guinevere went first. Then Alp. Finally Zyd, who barely made it. Eris prepared to make the jump herself, when—

Another crack.

Her grip slacked.

The wagon’s central axel snapped. Wood splintered, and it was split in two.

She held both halves in the air even as their balance was lost; the Manastone’s crate ruined everything, it tipped the back half more than she could compensate, until finally it fell and slipped off the back and to the ground below.

The Manastone fell from the crate first and went off the cliffside.

Eris was hit by an elephant. Sucked out into vacuum. Fallen onto her back. The enchantment dropped in an instant. She stumbled forward just before she fell, reached out—

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Guinevere grabbed her hand.

“Ieh’ve gotcha!”

Pulled her onto the tower's roof—

The wagon crashed. Clattering, the smashing of a thousand pounds of debris all at once, splinters sent down the side of the cliff, until…

The crack of thunder from below, followed by a drumroll. An explosion, then a flash of blue light—

Off the side of the cliff, beyond the tower, rose a puff of smoke a mile high. A storm of dust overcame everything within. It reached up to the clouds like a mushroom the size of a mountain.

A gust of heat overcame them. Eris’ hair was caught in the blast, blown like a hurricane behind her head, and the temperature was like the hottest day she’d ever known concentrated into half a second, scorching her skin, and then…

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing. No sign of anything at all—no smoke, no smell, no disruption in the clouds. Only the fading echo of a strike of thunder.

...and the aurora in the aether in the sky. Where the mushroom touched the clouds, colors danced.

Guinevere clapped and cheered.

“YOORE THE MOAST DAMMEST WIZHARD IEH EVER SEAN!”

Eris doubled over. She threw up at the barbarian’s feet. Once her dinner; twice for water; and a third time…

…something else. Green and blue. Viscous. A taste of iron, like blood. Intense pain in her stomach. Every muscle ached. Lightheaded and feverish. She drew herself against the parapet—and finally saw the top of the tower.

A stone hatch led down, swinging upward. At the center was a large, contained, elevated area: its white stones stood in stark contrast to the surrounding black bricks, but they were tinged by tar, as if a fire was once set there. Runes were etched all along the low wall surrounding it.

“That’s just great,” Zyd said, finally. He was staring off the side of the cliff, toward whatever destruction had befallen the detonation site of the Manastone. “So much for surprise. Good work, Eris! We might as well just went in through the front door!"

“She gut us en, wat elz kin ya ask fur, master haff-ling?”

“I can ask for a lot!”

“They—they might not know w-w-w-we’re here, still,” Alp said. “I mean…up here.”

Just then voices came from the other side of the hatch. Hard to make out, followed by…steps.

A lock turning.

The hatch moved.

Everyone shared a glance.

Without so much as a moment’s hesitation, Guinevere positioned herself behind the hatch with her axe raised.

The hatch stopped—

“I’ll tell you what I see, all right?” a voice came, muffled.

It opened—

The torso of a man emerged through the hatch. He saw Eris, who hadn’t bothered to move, first, and was so surprised that he did nothing at all.

Guinevere gave a battleshout and swung her axe.

The man was hit square in the torso. He let out a burble, gasped hoarsely, and collapsed back down the hole.

“Coem aynd fit us yea banned-it basturds!” she cried. With that she jumped down the hatch and into the tower proper.

“You idiot!” Zyd said. “What are you—gah!”

He looked at Alp, then to Eris, and realized that it was now or never. So he followed after her. Alp followed after him.

Eris crawled forward, then threw up again.

Sounds of fighting came from beneath…

And a gray haze overcame her.

It cannot even channel aether from stones. It is weak and inexperienced.

She used the low parapet to climb up to her feet, but the ground was water beneath her. The sky rolled like the tide.

Will it be captured?

Every muscle in her body contracted in spasm. The pain was unbelievable, but rather than collapse back down to her feet, she stepped forward, then again, and again, moving toward the hatch—

It will fight.

“Leave me be!” Eris gasped.

She moved like a puppet on strings. She had no control over her own motion.

It will fight, for I will make it.

“I will, but I cannot!”

The spell faded. Sudden release flooded through her body. She fell, hitting her head hard on the ground. Fire flooded through her veins, a searing, flushing, setting her to cough and gag, and then…

It uses too much of itself for magic.

Her head was cleared. Her vision sharpened. Pain faded.

I will sustain it.

Eris rolled onto her back. Now she could breathe. Alien thoughts faded from her mind, now she heard the fight below clearly.

After only a moment of rest, she was energized enough to snap to her feet. She rushed to the ladder. Glancing down she saw a torch-lit room with bedrolls strewn across the floor, and her three companions standing by a staircase which led down.

She descended the ladder.

“Why don’t you just give up, then?” Zyd shouted down the stairs.

“I don’t much feel the need tae do that,” a voice replied. Eris recognized it at once as the dwarf.

Down here was the body of the man cleaved partway in half by Guinevere, as well as another, the one named Dominic, who had been shot in the knee with an arrow. He was still alive; Alp stood over him with a sword to his neck.

“Et’s foor agaynst tow,” Guinevere said, “ya kint win!”

“I’ll admit, it was awfully good work of ye, comin’ down on us from the roof. Yer all a wise bunch of raiders, I’ll give that to ye. Tell ye what—it’s lookin’ like me gang could use a few extra men. Maybe we could work somethin’ out?”

“Yeah, sure, throw down your axe and all your armor and we’ll work something out,” Zyd said.

Silence.

“No thanks,” another man’s voice came.

They all stood around for what felt like an eternity. Guinevere glanced around. There were a few things strewn about; among them, a chainmail hauberk, far too long for her. She put it on anyway. Draped over her shoulders it dragged across the ground like a wedding gown.

“Theer,” she whispered, “nao les go!”

The axe went up. She charged down the steps. Alp moved to follow after her, but just as he did, Dominic lunged. He grabbed Alp by the shin and tripped him, pulling him to the ground. But it was too late: Zyd was already gone, down the stairs, the next fight begun.

Eris was determined to prove herself—on her own, with her own power. Whatever the wyrm did flushed away her spellsickness. Alp wrestled with the wounded Dominic on the ground, fighting for control of his sword.

She had to get downstairs quickly. Rather than risk expending herself too early, she jumped forward, kicked Dominic in the gut, then ran after Zyd.

The ground floor of the tower was circular and perfectly symmetrical. Every dark stone in the floor was measured and cut to precision. The steps underfoot in the case were unusually short and wide. Torches burned in alcoves along the walls, illuminating the brawl:

It was a brawl. Zyd had tried to use his bow but there was no room; now he dodged and ducked and dived and rolled away from a man with a sword after being pulled into melee. Guinevere and the dwarf were both armored but unhelmeted, and they now wrestled, axes dropped.

“Help!” Zyd cried when he saw Eris. That turned the swordman’s attention her way. He let Zyd scamper off and came toward her, clambering up the stairs—

Now came the time to do it right. No Manastone—

She shot out a hand. Flicked her fingers.

Green fire flew from the tips.

Sparks hit the man. He paused, caught off guard, but unharmed. The approach resumed.

She stepped backward. Her arm shot out again. Another flicker of green fire traced across the dim room; these into his eyes, raining embers onto his linens, stopping him for a moment—

His shirt caught fire.

He screamed.

All his torso immolated.

The sword in his hands fell. He leaped from the stairs, away from Eris, and clawed at his chest to pull the burning fabric over his head. The fire spread, up his sleeves, white fabric turning black before vanishing, like papyrus in a hearth, and just as it lifted over his head—

Zyd shot off two arrows into his torso. He collapsed right at the side of Guinevere and the dwarf, who still rolled and wrestled on the ground, pounding each other like apes.

“Fiyt liek a man, dorf!” she cried.

“Shut up and die already, ye stupid savage!”

He hit her head against the tile. She punched him. Eris approached cautiously, uncertain what to do.

Zyd grabbed the sword off the ground. He rushed to her side.

“Nae! Ieh’ve gott him!”

Another slam against the ground. Zyd hesitated. The dwarf rolled them over, toward the still-burning fire near the middle of the room, where the distinctive smell of charred human skin emanated.

He grabbed Guinevere by the neck and forced her head near the fire—

Closer—

She screamed—

One of her braids caught fire. Zyd swore and shrugged while Eris watched on, intrigued at what might happen next—she was fairly certain they had won the battle already.

The sword came down on the dwarf’s neck. One swing loosened his grip and let Guinevere pull herself away. She reached for her canteen on her belt and doused her hair, extinguishing the fire, but her face was badly burned.

Zyd swung the sword again. The dwarf’s head came off and fell into the fire. His body went limp.

Footsteps echoed down the stairs…

A distraught and blood-splattered Alp. His bronze sword was in his hands.

“He’s dead,” he announced. Blood trailed from a wound on his neck.

The four of them stood in silent disbelief. That it went so well was Eris’ surprise. She had not expected her companions to survive this expedition, and certainly not uninjured.

Guinevere hissed in pain as she touched her own burn.

Mostly uninjured.

“Ehs that et?” Guinevere said. “Anly foor?”

“That’s it,” Zyd said. Something caught his attention then. “Maybe.”

Behind the staircase was another hatch. Just like the other, carved of finely cut stone. It was buried beneath barrels of stolen supplies, then empty crates. Finally there were countless chains, all bound by an old and rusted lock.

“I bet they keep their real good stuff down there,” Zyd said.

“Perhaps we will find a key,” Eris said. He nodded. With that they began their search. Up and down the two storeys of the tower, every corner scoured, everything taken that could be taken.

Eris found both her things in a satchel buried beneath a bedroll in their living quarters: bracelet and necklace. She put them on. Rook’s sword was there, too, and Erkent’s, and Pyraz’s dagger. There were copper and silver coins everywhere, a few things in gold, and an assortment of mundane jewelry.

The dwarf had a fondness for jewelry. Silver especially, armbands and earrings and circlets, no doubt stolen from noblewomen over years of brigandry. Eris found the stash beneath a loose stone on the second storey.

Eris shared this fondness for jewelry. She took the earrings and hid them in her pocket, but revealed the rest to her companions as loot to split.

There was something else beneath that loose stone. A big book bounded in leather.

She recognized it instantly. Its pages radiated mana. This was a spellbook. Eris had never seen one beyond Pyrthos’ halls, but there was no doubt.

She slid it into her backpack.

Everything else of value was grabbed until their packs and satchels were filled to the point of overflowing. Then they filled sacks, and they took those, too. Guinevere took all the armor and weaponry she could carry.

“No! We must have missed something!” Zyd said as they gathered on the ground floor.

“Wat es et?” Guinevere said.

“My lantern, it’s not here!”

Eris groaned. “You may buy a new one with the proceeds.”

“You don’t get it, that was my lantern and I want it back!”

“Well it is not here.”

“It must be!”

“They probably sold it,” Alp said.

“No, they wouldn’t! It must be downstairs!”

“We have as much as we can carry and we found no key,” Eris said.

“I can pick the lock. Hold on.” Zyd put down his sack.

“You are not going to find it,” Eris said, more frustration on her voice.

“How do you know?”

“Because it is a lantern, you absolute imbecile!”

A lockpick was presented. Fumbling commenced. “I don’t believe it.”

“If the way of the world was determined by what fools believed…”

The process took an extraordinarily long time. Zyd became frustrated more than once, and when the lock finally came loose, he was so angry that he threw it against the far wall.

“All right, here it comes,” he said. The chains were pulled aside.

There were lots of chains.

The handle on the hatch turned only on the outside. A loud scraping echoed through the room. It took all of Zyd’s strength to pulled it open. Then…

He lifted it.

A tunnel descended deep into the stony earth, barred everywhere by ancient cobwebs. No natural light within. Nothing at all, except dust and stale air and—something awful, something hideous, a smell, a stench like rotten clothes mixed with graveyard.

“…I do not think there is any lantern down there,” Eris said.

Zyd stared down for a long time. Then, suddenly, he closed the hatch again. “Okay. Fine. But I…hey. Why don’t you want me to look for my lantern, huh?”

“What?”

“I said, why don’t you—”

“Yes, I heard what you said. What are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting you know where my lantern is!”

“Are you completely mad?”

“You do! I knew it! You stole it, didn’t you!”

“When would I have stolen it? You were with me the entire time after we were ambushed.”

“…I don’t know…but I do know it! You did it! That’s just like a magician! Ah!”

Eris was stunned at the enormous leap in logic, but also by the fact she had, apparently, been seen through so effortlessly. The lie could never be given up.

“I would like to return to town this century,” she said. “I do not have time to indulge your deluded fantasies.”

“Oh yeah, we’ll return to town. But I’m watching you! Watch out, everyone! Make sure your things are on you at all times!”

They moved toward the door.

“Es et looked?” Guinevere said.

“I see the latch,” Alp said. “Here, I’ll get it—”

Alp stepped forward. He unlatched the door and pressed it open. At the threshold, though, a strange noise echoed through the room.

A pressure plate sank beneath Alp’s feet.

A sound like the slipping of a crossbow’s bolt rang out. He turned, and just as he looked toward the party—

An axe shot out from a slot within the wall beside the door. Its blade was leveled precisely at his neck.

Two thumps followed.

The axe retracted itself back into the walls through a hidden mechanism.

There was nothing to do but stare in stunned silence.

Guinevere fell to her knees.

“Alp,” she whispered. She reached for his body—

It was too gruesome even for Eris to look. The sight was appalling. The more appalling thought was to imagine what would have happened if she had been the one who went first. Another reminder of how suddenly her own death might come.

She did not care about Alp. But it was so terribly pointless. If only they had checked…

It was an ingenious trap.

“The blade is at human height,” Eris said. “’tis a Dwarven tower. A dwarf may walk beneath the blade unharmed, while an unsuspecting human…very clever.”

“Let’s get the fuck outta here,” Zyd said. “I hate dwarves!”

Guinevere insisted on burying Alp. Eris and Zyd used that time to rest. Then they set off back toward Kaimas. This time, they made it back with all their winnings in tow.