‎Chapter 10: Between hammer and anvil

Norman felt a strong sense of déjà vu when he woke up in Carcerus in his real body again. He was back on the floating disk, but this time not alone. Several wounded warriors in bloody bandages lay uncomfortably close to him. There was a smell of blood and death in the air and he could hear the noise of battle in the distance. He jumped in alarm. An old man stomped stubbornly behind the window and looked up when he noticed his movement: "Ah! The freeborn has his soul back. Very nice. We were already worried. Wouldn't be the first time someone who's been robbed hasn't woken up. Here!" He tossed him a battle staff. "Make sure you get back into the battle line. Your place is with the vanguard. This way. Go on!"

"Thanks, but what's going on right now?"

"Your sketch gave Ashabtigor iHihHHhhkKKLauf a good idea. We directed the Shadow Butterflies with heat sources in a cleverly laid out line around us and stormed the Nexus. We're also back in the Nexus and so far Ashabtigor's plan seems to be working. The only problem is that corpse golems keep appearing. And we're having increasing problems beating them back."

His plan. So now it had become Ashabtigor's plan. No glory for the architecture student. Well, at least it had worked. Or had it?

"What's the situation right now?"

"It went well at first. The shadow cloud froze quite a few of the corpse golems stiff, then we cut down a whole bunch of bushes and set them on fire. The cloud flew back into the path. Fortunately, the critters always stay in a swarm. If the little beasts had dispersed..."

"Then what happened?"

"We only have three scouts in the clan who are really good with fire magic. Two of them drag a trail of glowing stones behind them and lure the swarm back the way it came."

"And then they sneak past again and come back. Good plan."

"They don't come back. Nothing lives behind the swarm. Without any heat sources, it spreads across the entire width of the path and grazes every spark of living matter. We can't risk it escaping and destroying our entire world at some point. The two of them will lure it after them until the supplies they are carrying are exhausted in two weeks' time. Then they will put all their life force into a spell to cool the environment. The guardians of memory believe that this will be enough to kill the shadow butterflies. The few survivors will be far enough away from living food to starve to death. At least, that's our hope."

"I think that should fit. And they can't get to the veins because of this lightning field. But I'm sure there's another way than sacrificing two people."

"There is a limit to how strong a mage can cast a spell. I know you can't cast spells, so just take my word for it. You can try your hardest until you feel like your head is going to explode. And then you stop. But if that's still not enough, then you can try really hard. It doesn't happen accidentally, any more than you can consciously hold your breath until you suffocate. But you can hit yourself over the head with a stone. If you know what I mean. And only with that kind of effort can they cool down a large enough area to make any difference at all."

"And all this happened in the hour and a half I was gone?"

"An hour and a half? You were out of action for a little over two days. Now make sure you get to the front!"

Norman jumped down from the platform and caught himself athletically. He felt fresh and well rested, if a little hungry. He saluted briskly, which elicited a smile from the old man, who was unfamiliar with the gesture. He shook his hand in response. Norman was somewhat surprised by the strong handshake.

"I'm Azrael, nice to meet you."

"Azrael? The Azrael from the Bible?"

"I... am not sure. I'm not particularly well known or important. But Azrael is the second most common first name here in Carcerus. Right after Beelzegar."

"Nice to meet you. Which way to the front?"

He ran off and passed the inner circle of guards. A few hundred meters ahead, he could already hear the noise of battle. Before he got there, the vanguard, led by Ashabtigor, was already coming towards him. "What's going on?"

"We're losing. That's what's going on!"

"What?!?"

"We were able to knock back a few golems. All those we didn't catch and smash in their frozen state have thawed out again. And more are coming in from all directions and gathering at regular intervals around the clan. We are surrounded!"

"What? With so much space in the Nexus, we should be able to break through somewhere, right? Can't we just bypass the enemies?"

"Did I mention the gargoyles? Flying warriors with terrible fighting power. And they throw spears at us from unreachable heights. We've lost three men today alone. Plus five wounded men who won't be fit to fight for the next few weeks." He threw his battle staff on the ground in frustration: "We might as well give up."

One of his warriors picked up the staff as he passed and handed it back: "As if you would ever give up."

Ashabtigor nodded to him gratefully and gripped his staff tighter. "We are cut off from all exits. The gargoyles only intervene as soon as we try to break through the ranks of the corpse golems. Otherwise, they circle almost out of sight, but leave us alone. We are trapped."

"Has anyone come by to negotiate yet?"

"Negotiate?"

"The entrances to the Nexus are guarded. When we broke through, we were surrounded. And whoever is cultivating the area here... I don't know if you've noticed, but the plants over there are all in straight rows with regular spacing. There are a few noticeably even areas of some kind of crop back there. Someone is growing food here. Where someone is farming, someone is living permanently. That means there's someone controlling the attacks here."

"What?!? Damn! Why haven't I noticed that yet?"

"How many times have you seen fields?"

"Good point. Where should we start looking?"

"Maybe by that tower back there?" Norman thought this was a perfectly obvious suggestion as he pointed his thumb to the left. In the otherwise flat landscape of a few fields, large areas of brambles and grass, the tower immediately stood out to him in the distance. However, the scouts wheeled around as if he had shouted "Attacker!" and stared wide-eyed in the direction he was pointing.

"That's a... Tower? A... building?"

"Unless you have really huge termites here or Carcerus suddenly produces gigantic stalagmites, this must be a tower. And a pretty big one at that."

"A building... Good. Then we have a target where we need to go." He turned to the whole group: "There's a war council in one cycle. Get some rest and have a snack."

*

The group that marched in front of the line of battle of the corpse golems was what you would call armed to the teeth in Carcerus. The warriors wore the best wicker armor the tribe had to offer. Even if Norman found the look more than ridiculous, he had gained a great deal of respect for the magically reinforced armor. Passed down through generations and constantly improved, they were harder than steel and lighter than balsa wood. But it didn't change the fact that it looked like a bored basket maker had tried to recreate medieval plate armor. And failed miserably.

In their hands they held braided fighting sticks of various lengths. Ashabtigor, eight warriors, Horst, Jane and Norman. Ashabtigor went ahead with two of the warriors, two went on each side and the last two brought up the rear. The three students formed the center, or as Horst had put it: the juicy stuffing.

"Are you going to keep quiet and say something now?" Norman was a little worried about Jane's grim silence. She scowled at him: "What's there to talk about? That wasn't even a proper war council. That bastard announces his plan and everyone agrees."

Ashabtigor ignored the extremely ungracious term without reacting, although he was only a few steps ahead of them and no doubt overheard every word.

"I never expected them to do something like this to us. This is just the last thing!"

Horst intervened timidly: "They just don't have anything else they can offer."

"You are very calm! Sir: Well-well-if-we-can-help-you-with-that. What useful things have you achieved here on Carcerus so far? Apart from devouring huge amounts of food and enthusiastically swinging a long stick back and forth?"

Norman was about to intervene to mediate when Horst stood up completely and took over his own defense with completely uncharacteristic self-confidence. In a clear and dominant voice that was completely different from the cautious stammering he was usually known for: "I paid attention! I've noticed that the intervals between the lightning bolts in the veins are always exactly one hour apart. To a thousandth of a second! That can't be a coincidence."

"You can measure time intervals to a thousandth of a second?"

"My watch is just really great! And I've been thinking that there are no mushrooms here. And no mold or anything else. That's really strange. There shouldn't really be anything else growing here."

"That's right! The heat, the high humidity... That should be rampant everywhere here. I hadn't even noticed."

Norman noticed the quiet beeping more subconsciously, but Horst immediately turned to Jane: "Was it not your cell phone?"

With trembling fingers, she tore open the zipper of the small handbag, which was completely inappropriate in this setting. Norman felt dizzy as he curiously glanced inside past her hand. The thing was bigger on the inside than on the outside! Various obscure make-up utensils, handkerchiefs, pepper spray, a bundle of metal tubes that was unidentifiable at first glance, a roll-on deodorant, a small manicure set and, of course, the small black cell phone that she now pulled out and flipped open. Her shoulders slumped in disappointment. "No reception. Maybe it's just the battery. Still 64% charge."

"Ko I mal sehen?"

"Sure, take this."

The cell phone looked even tinier in its giant paws than it already was. It was inconceivable that he could even dial a number without a pen. His two fellow students couldn't see exactly what he was doing because his thumb covered half the keypad. Somehow, however, he managed: "It had reception for two seconds, but too little and too short to send the text message that's still in the memory. Now there's no reception again."

The corpse golems followed them closely with their heads as they approached the invisible border they were guarding. Ashabtigor stepped forward even further until the guards tensed and prepared to attack. Then he stopped, raised his empty hands high above his head and shouted: "I have come to negotiate!"

The golems nodded once. Ashabtigor waited, but there was no further reaction. When he tried to take a step forward, they immediately raised their weapons and the golems visibly tensed. He paused indecisively: "Will you let me through to negotiate with your master?"

No reaction.

Ashabtigor stepped back a little and waited. The vein from the path they had come through flashed as the hourly light raced through it. The flash of light traveled along the vein to the center of the nexus. There, seven other veins met at a point a good hundred kilometers away. The nexus brightened for a split second as the tiny knot of veins lit up. Flashes of light traveled through five of the seven veins and were gone before the onlookers could blink. Norman turned to Jane to say something as another flash of light from one of the remaining veins lit up the vast space, traveled to the node and out again: "Wow! It was impressive in the paths, but it's really stunning here."

"Norman, we really have other things to do than admire pretty lighting effects."

"Yes. For example, the gargoyles up there."

Ashabtibor drove around so fast that Norman had the feeling of hearing a soft sonic boom. Or maybe it was just the cracking of his vertebrae. Three Gargyls were approaching in formation. The middle one was a good deal larger than the other two and held a flat object wrapped in cloth in front of its chest. All three landed close behind the lines of the corpse golems. The tallest of them stepped forward, holding the object in the air in front of Ashabtigor with one hand and removing the cloth with the other. A mirror of stained glass in a frame of woven basketwork became visible. A bluish light flickered inside the mirror and two white-blue glowing eyes became visible. A sinister voice rang out from nowhere: "Who is entering the realm of Lord Mage Bhargamon?"

"A wandering clan in search of the Lightbringer. We come in peace, let us pass in peace."

"This place is secret. Invisible to the primordial gods. Invisible even to the Lightbringer! Whoever finds my realm must never leave it, for this could draw the eye of the Lightbringer to my realm."

"You seem to be a most powerful mage..."

"That's me!"

"... then you can erase the knowledge of your realm from our memory before we leave its borders. I offer you no resistance to your spell."

"Why should I go to all this trouble? And let such valuable resources slip through my fingers as your clan offers? I offer you to stay here. Submit yourselves to me! Serve me and live!"

"And if we refuse?"

"Serve me in death."

A low rumble echoed across the gathering as all the corpse golems thumped their chests three times in synchronization.

"I have another suggestion great Lord Bhargamon."

"Speak!"

"Three who were born free are traveling with us. Three whose knowledge of the other worlds is complete. If it comes to battle, they will die with us. And their knowledge will be lost to you. And with every soul that leaves one of our dying bodies, the danger will increase that it will remember this place in one of its later incarnations. And if only one tells of this place while the Lightbringer's attention is on them..."

"Let me see the freeborn!"

Norman, Jane and Horst stepped forward. The men were silent, Jane grumbled quietly to herself: "Let's swap the freeborn for our freedom. Great plan. Costs them nothing and gets rid of the three useless eaters too..." Norman just looked at her calmly until she fell silent with a final, frustrated gesture.

Pale light streamed from the mirror and flickered over the three students. Then the voice rang out again: "Your bodies are not from Carcerus. I see auras from three different worlds. Your souls do not yet bear the stain of countless rebirths. You are truly freeborn." While the light in the mirror dimmed thoughtfully for a moment, Jane turned suspiciously to her two fellow students: "Three worlds? I thought you were both from Earth?"

"Of course, where else would I come from?" Norman looked at Horst. He just shrugged his shoulders in confusion.

Her frosty gaze flickered back and forth between the two of them: "We'll talk about that!"

Lord Bhargamon's voice thundered deafeningly from all directions: "If I wanted to, these three would be mine anyway. They could be mine now!"

Ashabtigor looked unimpressed at the shining eyes in the mirror: "Never alive."

Norman grabbed Jane's arm without even looking.

The corpse golems let the three pass, as did the gargoyles. The winged ones waited until they had gone a little way and then followed them at a distance of a few meters after carefully wrapping the mirror in cloth again.

Norman noticed that the gargoyles didn't seem to be worried about running away or attacking them. Considering their long, woven willow spears with their sharp-looking stone tips and the enormous muscles that adorned their bare torsos, he didn't think they were too careless.

The path led them several kilometers across a flat plain with sickly-looking, short grass. The tower looked quite compact, but was much further away than the students had initially thought. The noticeable curvature of the hollow sphere on the inside of which they were walking confused their sense of direction. At least as far as distances were concerned. The upwardly curved "horizon" at least made it almost impossible to get lost. Only obstacles in the immediate vicinity could block the view sufficiently. The tower was clearly visible from everywhere.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

Without a sun or other natural phenomena, all they had to measure time were the veins that flashed every hour. After three cycles, they took a short break. The students sat down on the grass, exhausted, while the gargoyles remained relaxed. Two more gargoyles flew up and brought a basket with fur tubes full of fresh water and a few pieces of bread. Everything seemed well organized. The two new arrivals gave their three guards a brief friendly nod, but then ignored them as they watched the three students eat. No one rushed them, but the serene wait unnerved them after a few minutes, so they picked themselves up and moved on.

The closer they got to the tower, the more cultivated the landscape appeared and the more often they came across farmers working in the lovingly laid out fields. In one of them, six men had formed a circle and crossed their arms while a small swirling cloud formed above them, which shortly afterwards rained down into the circle. A spider's web of small irrigation ditches, which was only just becoming visible, spread the water across the field. One of the men looked up briefly from their joint magic ritual and noticed the students and their escorts. He immediately looked away again and pretended not to have noticed them. Norman noticed the leather-like collars they were all wearing. Only now did he notice them on the gargoyles as well. Apart from leather loincloths, they didn't wear much, so he wondered why he hadn't noticed it before. In fact, every one of the peasants, whether man, woman or child, wore one of these collars.

That took longer than I thought.

Why?

The collars emit a very subtle hypnotic signal that makes you overlook them. The wearers probably don't even realize they are wearing collars most of the time.

Are they magical?

No. Definitely not.

Sarcasm doesn't suit you.

I have to master every form of communication. By the way, you should concentrate more on the road. You're almost there.

The tower hardly seemed to get any closer over the last stretch. With no trees or anything to compare it to, it was difficult to estimate its size. When they got below it, it seemed to fill the entire horizon. There were no windows until about four meters up in the wall, and then the first few floors were only hand-width embrasures. Norman involuntarily stopped to take a closer look at the material. It was not brickwork or otherwise assembled from individual parts. The tower was completely seamless, as if it had grown straight out of the ground in one piece. There was not even an edge at the bottom. Concrete? No, it was too smooth for that. And the typical patterns of natural granite were still slightly but perceptibly present. The door leaves were also as if they were made of one piece. As if someone had ordered the stone to cut off a section and form hinges. No, no hinges. The door leaves swung open in front of them and he realized that the top and bottom of the door leaves each pivoted directly around a single bearing. Only the inside edges were rounded on the inside of the door to allow for movement. No one could lift out the hinges here. To remove these gates, they had to be smashed to pieces. And that with granite over forty centimetres thick...

As he walked through, he took a look at the bolts. Heavy stone bolts moved in precisely fitting guides. Here, too, everything looked as if it had been cast in one piece. And even to remove these bolts, everything would have had to be smashed to pieces. He was glad he wasn't working for a demolition company that was supposed to dismantle this. Parting lances could melt iron like butter, but not stone. The seamless material offered no starting point for a blast. And drilling blast holes through solid granite would take a lot of time. While he was thinking about what special equipment he would have used to work on the walls and gates here, the group passed through a ten-metre-long corridor with numerous side doors into a large reception room. There was also a large staircase to the second floor, which swung to both sides. However, the balustrades with the narrow embrasures and the crossbowmen positioned there were missing in the films from which such a sight was known. There were also a few thin embrasures at floor level, subtly distributed between man-sized, knotted tapestries.

The three were led up the stairs, along a corridor and then into the Lord Mage's reception room. The tall double doors opened before them as if by magic and they stepped onto the smooth marble floor. Norman only casually noticed the long scratches in the floor and silently wished the workers, who had probably carelessly pushed some furniture across the floor, that they hadn't gotten into too much trouble. But judging by his impression of the landlord so far, they had probably come to a rather painful end...

"Welcome, my guests!" The tall mage rose from the high-backed armchair behind the massive desk, spread his arms and then gestured invitingly towards three wicker chairs. Norman was ashamed to have accused this obviously educated and highly civilized nobleman of having such a malicious temperament. Surely he only had her best interests at heart. Just as he had only the noblest and most benevolent plans for his subjects and, of course, for the wandering clans. Norman was feverishly considering how he could apologize properly when he heard a soft chuckle in his mind.

So if he moves in here now too, it's going to be a tight squeeze.

Voice?

Who else. This mage really has a nerve. Such brute control magic is forbidden in at least seventeen dimensions that I know of by name. Anything more and he'll fry some of your brain cells. And you already have very few of those anyway.

Did he catch the other two?

I'm not sure about Horst. Reading his thoughts is normally a nerve-wracking affair. Right now, all I'm getting is incomprehensible mumbling. As sheep-eyed as he is staring ahead of him right now, he's probably got it all over him.

And Jane?

Had to fight hard at first. Man, she has an iron will, you have to give the stubborn beast credit. But then she used a mind protection spell. Damn clever. If I hadn't been watching from the inside, I wouldn't have noticed it myself. Just the faintest whisper of a single word. Right now, even I can't get into her thoughts.

Where did she learn a mind protection spell... Of course. If I were to send my daughter to a university full of magicians, I would certainly have taught her how to protect herself first. So that just leaves me. But you can shield us both, I suppose?

Of course he will. And as long as you don't do anything stupid, he'll be convinced that he has you completely under control.

Do you have any idea what I should do to persuade the Lord Mage to let us all go?

I'm afraid I can't tell you specifically what he's thinking right now. But he's clearly more worried than he is... The voice in Norman's mind broke off in the telepathic equivalent of a soft whimper.

Voice? Voice?

That's okay. That was too close to the Geasa prohibitions that restrict me. I'll try to shield you further and interpret, but don't expect any more from me in the next few hours.

Norman turned his attention back from the internal dialog to his surroundings. He found himself sitting comfortably in one of the three wicker chairs. Next to him were his two fellow students. Horst was about to tell them in detail how they had come to Carcerus. The Lord Mage had great difficulty following his dialect and his erratic narrative style. Jane just stared at him in silence, but seemed strangely tense. Norman suspected that she was resisting restraint. He couldn't tell whether she was still successful or not.

The Lord Mage rubbed the bridge of his nose with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand in exasperation and beckoned Horst to be silent with his other hand. Now he turned his attention to Norman: "By the destructive power of the Lightbringer, may I be spared his attention forever, I hope you speak less horrible gibberish."

"Isn't it unusual enough that we speak your language at all?"

The mage flinched, gave up his relaxed posture and suddenly sat up straight as if he had swallowed a stick. He stared at Norman tensely for a while and his lips moved almost imperceptibly as he mumbled to himself. He tilted his head and seemed to be listening. Then he looked sharply at Norman again. As he continued to speak, he didn't really sound convinced at first. But with every word he spoke faster and more confidently, as if he was convincing himself of what he was saying: "Magic must have taught you our language. Yes, it can't be any other way. Although the hollow skull of this muscle-bound peasant must not have accepted the spell correctly. I would say it is a spell from the realm of..."

He continued with technical details that Norman didn't understand, and he was also distracted by another internal dialog. His voice sounded quiet and tense.

You enjoy making unnecessary work for me, don't you? I had carefully steered his thoughts around the problem of language and you have to point it out to him directly!

Sorry! I hadn't thought about it. It just slipped out.

I know. I would have interrupted you if you had thought before blabbering for a change.

The voice became somewhat unintelligible at the end and then fell silent as the intellect embedded in Norman's mind concentrated on other tasks.

"... and of course I noticed the remarkable magical abilities of the young lady here. A most unusual combination of combat spells, my lady. Most mages focus on one element and don't dabble in so many different ones. What exactly is your main area of specialization?"

"Necromancy." The word came out reluctantly, ticked off.

"Necromancy?!? That has very little to do with their repertoire. And if I may say so, you seem too young to have mastered several specialist fields to this extent. What formulas have you already learned?"

"Soulsight, Spirit Call, Raise Zombies, various manipulation spells for the distribution of soul energy, a few lesser healing spells, some food manipulation spells." The list became much vaguer towards the end as she slowly gained the upper hand in the mental duel. With a casual gesture, the Lord Mage swept her resistance aside and her eyes glazed over again.

"What spells have you mastered from the element of fire?"

"Light small fires."

"What next?"

"That's the only one."

"This is the very first spell with the very simplest basics. According to reports, they burned off the arm of one of my corpse golems with a flame lance. You must know more fire spells."

"I'm not."

"Their main weapon was powerful lightning strikes. So they must be very familiar with the magical manipulation of the element of air. What spells from this area do you know?"

"Not a single one."

"What?!? You're lying to me!"

"If you say so."

"How could they have used spells if they don't know them? Do they have magical artifacts?"

"I didn't use any magical artifacts for these combat spells."

"But they used these spells?"

"I did."

"How... did... you...... do... that?" He braced himself against the desk with both arms, as if he could only restrain himself with difficulty from jumping over the top and strangling Jane.

"I... That means my father owns a book. A grimoire. A talking grimoire. If you enhance its power with Gallifreynium, it can memorize spells. You can only use each spell once, but no previous knowledge is required. And the selection of spells is... gigantic."

"They want me to believe that a book imprints spells on their minds. Disposable spells?"

"That's right."

"I've never heard of anything like this. Show me the book!"

"I don't carry it with me. My father's security precautions also prevent it from being removed from his study. I only get to it on the rare days when he's out all day."

"How many spells can this ominous book imprint on them?"

"Just over a dozen."

"How many do they still have stored in your minds at the moment?"

"Just one more."

"I assume they used up the rest when they invaded my realm?"

"Yes."

"And what other saying do they keep in their minds?"

She narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together. The Lord Mage sat back down a little more relaxed and only his eyes showed the mental effort he was putting into his spell. Then Jane reluctantly answered the question: "A powerful illusion spell that only affects myself, but can last up to a week."

"The same illusion that is currently working on them?"

"Exactly the same."

He wiped the air in front of his eyes with his hand and then scrunched them up again in concentration: "I had already noticed this spell working from a distance, but I still can't see exactly what it does. It's a very weak and subtle spell, but it works for a very long time. It seems to be on... her head. Does it amplify her hearing? Does it translate... no, an illusion spell wouldn't be able to do that. Lift the spell!" She resisted only briefly, then her face relaxed and she snapped her fingers once. Norman stared at her intently, but couldn't tell the difference. The magician couldn't either, so he checked the existence of the illusion again: "The illusion has been lifted. What has changed? I can't see any difference to the previous state. Show me!"

She raised her hand wordlessly and lifted her full golden curls to one side of her head to reveal her ear. Norman and Horst stared in amazement at the missing earlobe and the pinna, which tapered into a clear point.

Jane turned bright red and her hand, which was still reluctantly holding up her hair, trembled slightly. Norman curled his lips into an honest smile: "I like it."

"You're the only one." Her voice trembled slightly: "Everyone else thinks I'm a freak."

"At the university?"

"Even there!"

The Lord Mage looked closely at the ears and then nodded understandingly: "So you have elven blood in your lineage. Fascinating. Your grandmother?"

"My mother." She pushed the two words out between clenched teeth. Her leg muscles trembled with the effort of jumping up and the magically enhanced will that was supposed to keep her calm. The Lord Mage didn't seem fazed as he stood up and wandered curiously around the students.

"A half-elf. There are very few elves in the Ways, but their stories have spread far and wide. From what I've heard, half-elves are extremely rare. We'll have to have a long and detailed talk about that. I've never had a half-elf..." His lustful gaze wandered over her shapely body and Norman had to use every ounce of self-control not to jump up and slap some manners into him. But even if he didn't use any magic tricks, he would still be in the middle of an enemy fortress. Surrounded by winged monsters and human guards.

The Lord Mage didn't even notice his inner turmoil, he was so focused on Jane. Then he sat down comfortably again and thought for a while before continuing: "Normally, I would accept you as guests here and spend many hours talking to you about the worlds you come from. About the magic you have learned there and the sciences and technical achievements you know. Unfortunately, I have other priorities at the moment. A renegade gargoyle, as my winged warriors are called, has managed to infiltrate here and steal a very valuable magical artifact. I therefore fear that I will have little opportunity to be an attentive host in the near future. Guest quarters have been set up for you on the fifth floor. You will make yourselves at home there and entertain yourselves as best you can until I have time to devote myself to you properly. You may use the small library and the guards' training room to entertain yourselves. You are forbidden to leave the fifth floor without permission and escort."

The students felt how the last sentence magically strengthened their will, lulling and weakening their minds like an afternoon talk show. The Lord Mage looked at them scrutinizingly for a while, then nodded complacently: "You may retire now. My servant will take you to your chambers."

A hunchbacked, small figure hobbled over hastily and shooed the unsteady group out of the room, bowing to his master several times. They were only vaguely aware of the corridor and the stairs, which he drove them up like a sheepdog driving its sheep. Norman's condition was also somewhere between dead tired and drunk. The hunchback limped past them, opened a heavy stone door and then maneuvered them inside. The door closed behind them with a dull thud, then a heavy stone bolt crunched into its anchorage.

Horst looked at the door in confusion: "They probably don't trust their magical command very much if they lock us in."

"A gargoyle has stolen from the Lord Mage. If anyone is under magical orders, it's probably these flying battle monsters. And if he was able to free himself, then we are even more so." He looked at the door. "We could try to get this door open, for example."

The three students stood somewhat lost and helpless in front of the massive door for a while. "None of you can bring yourselves to even touch the door?"

Jane and Horst shook their heads in disgruntled unison. All three pairs of eyes turned back to the door and while a brutal battle of wills raged in their minds, a casual observer would have wondered at most what interesting drugs the three of them had taken.

They finally gave up and examined the suite of several rooms connected by open archways that they had been allocated. Two bedrooms, a centrally located living room with several comfortable armchairs, an open fireplace and a bathroom with a stone bathtub. The bathtub's drain was sealed by a plug, also made of stone. Norman searched in vain for the tap for a while until Jane interrupted him, annoyed: "You fill them with buckets or, more likely, with magic. Can we get back to our real problems now?"

"Okay, let's have a look: We have to get out of this locked room. Then escape from the floor that we can't leave because of a magical geas. And then we have to find a way out of a dimension that supposedly no one has ever left. Have I forgotten something?"

"We have to get past a powerful magician who thinks we're one of his latest toys."

"And his winged gargoyle thingy."

The three of them looked at each other dejectedly and sat down in the living room. As they stared dejectedly in front of them, one of them took it in turns to speak, realized that his suggestion was seriously flawed and closed his mouth again. After a while, no one tried again.