The colors around him dulled as Nalion stood up from his chair. He had been instantaneously plunged back to the present-future, making his head spin slightly in disorientation. He blinked. Erevan was still sitting on the floor next to him, playing with Spiro. It was quite cute to see the grizzled, grumpy ranger entertaining an enthusiastic little pseudodragon.
The skeletons, however, were once more stuck in their macabre display. Nalion glanced back at Yoric, who was unfortunately also transformed back into a mute skeleton. He was a bit disappointed that he didn’t get to ask all his questions from the Chief of Staff when he had the chance.
Erevan rose up quickly as he saw them standing. The ranger dusted off his clothes as he turned his usual frown towards Nalion.
“Saw the skeletons acting weird. Got the key?” Erevan rasped.
Ilias opened his fist, revealing the blue key sitting on his palm. Good, the young mage had also returned to their time. Without further ado, Erevan snatched the key from Ilias’ outstretched hand with a frown. He then stalked back to the center of the room.
The trio and Yoric made their way out of the Guest Tower with Spiro lazily flying beside them, and back to the spiral staircase. They kept walking upwards to the next statue, which could be seen from a distance. It was still a deceptively long walk as the stairs hugged the walls, wounding slowly ever upwards. When they finally made it, Nalion was out of breath. He wasn’t built for cardio. He should have turned into a cat or something. Or a small bird. Or a mouse and fly up with Spiro.
As he stood by the statue, catching his breath with hands on his knees, he saw that it did indeed have blue eyes. Once the panting subsided somewhat he looked up, feeling a bit better after resting a moment. Far above the winding stairs Nalion could spy at least one more statue. Must be for the Paladin Tower that Yoric had mentioned. So much climbing. Why would anyone want to live so far up from the ground? It was not worth it just for the view.
He wiped some of the sweat from his brow as Erevan inserted the blue key inside the dragon's mouth. The ranger twisted it, and the wall revealed the opening to the next tower. He could feel a cool breeze working its way inside. They should probably be more careful crossing this bridge, considering they were much higher up now.
All of a sudden part of him thought he could hear water moving outside. Like waves crashing on stones. He frowned slightly and moved closer. Nalion glanced down at the lake from the opening in the wall. The surface was still. Must have been the wind. Or more likely the excessive exercise was messing with his brain. He shook his head. It was not really that important.
“Should we crawl across?” he asked from everyone and no one.
Erevan shrugged, getting down on all fours before making his way through. Nalion followed his lead. The wind was hitting his thin frame stronger this time. He and Erevan would have most likely been fine walking, but Nalion was worried about the young human. He seemed to be a bit on the clumsy side.
The bridge ended in two iron doors, which opened with ease. Inside the Tower of Magi was a brightly lit room with windows facing south, east and north. There were four flying chandeliers propped with candles on top of them, shedding further light to the room.
Nalion spotted a similar entrapment in the middle of the room as the Guest Tower had had. It was good to know how they were going to get up and down. He was quite certain that it was enough that only one of them thought of the direction they were going in. He had tested a little in the Guest Tower by purposefully thinking about other things. He had also toyed with the idea of requesting the platform to take them up when he knew Erevan would be hurrying them down.
In the end he had decided it wasn’t worth the why-must-you-make-my-life-so-difficult glare he’d surely earn. Maybe he’d give it a go after they had found the staff. Or he could ask this Zion person.
Besides the platform, there were also five statues in the room. Every one of them was considerably larger than Nalion. Four of them were located in the corners of the room whereas one of them was right next to the elevated piece. What an odd placement for a statue. But then again, who was he to judge?
“OH!” he exclaimed as he suddenly recognized the statue situated next to the platform. It was, what Nalion presumed was a man, clothed in simple robes. “That statue looks like the person in the paintings in the entrance!”
Erevan gave a noncommittal grunt as he stepped on the elevated piece on the floor.
Suddenly the statue spoke up with a deep, booming voice: “The more you take, the more you leave behind. What is it?”
Ohhhh, it was riddles. Nalion loved riddles. And puzzles. And puzzles in the form of riddles. In this case they probably needed to solve it in order to move up or down. YESS! If he would ever build any sort of larger structure, it would definitely be filled with different brainteasers to offer nourishment for the curious minds.
Erevan groaned loudly on the platform, disrupting Nalion's thoughts. Was the ranger in pain? The mage’s brows creased in worry.
“Are you okay Erevan?” he asked timidly, not wanting the other to close himself off.
Erevan huffed, crossed his arms and proclaimed that he was just fine. Nalion pursed his lips hesitantly, but in the end decided to leave it alone. If it was serious Erevan would tell him. Probably. Maybe.
Well, for now he had a puzzle to solve. He could almost feel the proverbial gears turning in his head. The more you take the more you leave behind… He quickly dismissed several options as preposterous. No, he needed to gather more data.
He took a closer look at the statue who’d spoken, trying to see if there were any clues on it. Could it be simplicity? If one based it on the state of the garment the statue was wearing. After all, humans seemed to be quite keen on clothing. He had a hypothesis that it was used as an extension of one's identity. He planned on maybe writing an article about it later, if he had the time.
But how did one “take” simplicity? It was probably too abstract. That had always been a stepping stone of his according to Master Tathallan. She had often pointed out how he was getting too caught up in the symbolics of the matter that he tended to miss the obvious answer.
Nalion glanced down to see if there maybe was some writing at the bottom of the statue, only for his gaze to be drawn to the obviously muddy boots the statue was wearing. What an odd choice. Why would they bother to make the boots muddy? It didn’t make sense, unless -
“FOOTSTEPS!” yelled Nalion happily. He ushered the others on top of the platform and said “Up!”
The platform obeyed and a wave of delight crashed over him. That feeling of solving a puzzle was so satisfying.
The platform lifted them to the next room. It was an exact replica of the room before it, except that the roof was much higher and the statue next to the piece they were standing on was different. It was a woman this time, he was pretty sure of that considering it was wearing a dress. But then again weren’t robes like dresses, only open at the front? Humans were weird. There was also a veil, covering the lower half of the statue's face. It reminded him of Hama.
As the piece stilled, the statue spoke: “What disappears when you say its name?”
This one was harder. Nalion couldn’t see any hints or clues on the statue, there was nothing exceptional on it that caught his curious gaze. He glanced back, wondering if Erevan or Ilias had any ideas. Erevan had a monotonic expression on his face. Overall the ranger was gazing off into the distance as if he wasn’t here at all. Ilias was looking straight at him, but merely shrugged. Nalion turned around to inspect the statue once more.
“Peace of mind?” he guessed. Nothing happened. “Self-fulfilling prophecy? Observer bias?”
Still nothing.
Nalion snapped his fingers as a wide smile burst on his face. He got it now. “OH! Placebo effect!!”
The smile was swiftly wiped off his face as the platform remained unmoving.
“Nocebo effect?” he tried weakly. Nothing.
Was he overthinking this again?
“How did you figure out the first one?” asked Ilias.
“By clues in the statue, the person's feet were muddy. But I can’t see anything that could be a clue here! Just a person,” Nalion said, deflating slightly.
Ilias’ features twisted in thought. At least he presumed so. Maybe he was concerned instead, worrying over Nalion not being able to solve this one so quickly? If that was true, it was kind of sweet.
“Hmm, disappears when you say its name… Fear? No, no, fear doesn’t just disappear that easy,” the younger mage tapped a finger on his chin as he kept guessing, “Someone who is afraid? But that’s too long.”
Erevan groaned loudly again.
“I’m never going to be able to enjoy silence again am I?” the ranger muttered to himself while rubbing his temples.
“SILENCE!” Nalion cried out. Of course! How didn’t he think of that before? “That’s it Erevan, you’re a genius!”
Nalion could hear Erevan clearing his throat. He glanced at the ranger again and noticed how the other was looking a little flushed. Now Nalion was really getting worried. Was Erevan getting feverish?
Nalion called for the platform to take them up again as he lifted the back of his hand to meet Erevan forehead. It was difficult as he needed to go up and balance on his toes in order to properly reach. Erevan looked like he wanted to simultaneously shove him off and jump away from him, yet couldn't do either without risking harm as the platform creaked its way upwards.
“What are you doing?” Erevan snarled as he glared at him. There was, however, no real heat behind the words nor the piercing gaze. Nalion had experienced an angry Erevan uttering the same exact words to him before and the difference was drastic.
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“Taking your temperature. Your cheeks were red. But you’re not feeling warmer than you should,” Nalion's brow furrowed. “Yet there was the moaning thing. Are you sure you’re not in pain?”
Erevan rolled his eyes, taking Nalion's hand down with a gentleness that once might have surprised the elf. “I’m fine. Now let’s get this over with so we can get beer.”
He nodded. As long as Erevan wanted beer he couldn’t be feeling too sick. If Erevan were to refuse a beer, that’s when he really needed to worry. And if he maybe snuck in a teeny tiny diagnostic spell while Erevan drank, well, no one needed to know.
Again they were taken to a similar room, with a new statue. This one was a probably-man. Under the statue's left arm was a book, connected to his belt with a heavy chain. His right hand was holding a candle holder, with a carved burning candle upon it.
The statue said: “I’m tall when I’m young, short when I’m old, what am I?”
So something that shrank with age?
“Life-expectancy?” guessed Nalion. No, that wasn’t it. He needed to do as he did with the first statue, take a closer look at any possible clues. It couldn’t have something to do with academics or knowledge, since Nalion himself was a living, breathing proof of how the thirst for knowledge could grow with years. Something to do with the chain? Keeping the knowledge from others? So like secrecy? It didn’t feel like it fit either.
Nalion flitted his gaze to the right arm. No. It couldn’t be that simple. It just couldn’t. Right?
“A candle?” he said, voice nearly trembling with trepidation.
As the platform began moving he felt like he understood why Erevan drank.
As they were getting closer to the next story of the tower, Erevan suddenly shushed them. Nalion strained his hearing. There was only silence. Then a soft muttering echoed from above them. His eyes widened in alarm. Someone else was in the tower? That couldn’t be good.
Erevan drew out his short swords, the motion silent and fluid. Ilias, on the other hand, was fumbling for his spear. Soon the human gave up, as he nearly fell off the overcrammed platform, and let magic lit his palms in a pale blue hue. Nalion gave Spiro a stern look, trying to send a telepathic message to the small pseudodragon to hide itself in the backpack. Spiro, however, ignored him as he hopped on Nalion's shoulder. The pseudodragon had its wings lifted and teeth bared in a snarl. He gave a small, dejected sigh as he too prepared for battle.
Unfortunately they were ready for them. It was quite understandable, really. They had, after all, been using the creaking device to get up here. He had hoped for less observant foes. Or preferably no foes at all.
Two furry, dirty creatures were hurtling towards them. They were quite smelly too, the stink invading his nostrils even before the creatures had barely moved. They had weapons of crude design clutched in their grasps and their yellow, pointy teeth bared. In a blink of an eye they were upon them, a blur of stinking fur.
Fortunately for Nalion, Erevan was just as fast. And also in front of him from the get go. The ranger blocked strikes from multiple directions while leaping up from the platform to the floor. The space created by Erevans advance was shortly filled with one of the creatures. It lunged at him and Ilias, as they were still standing on the contraption. It was only as it flew towards him that Nalion realized he had seen these creatures before. It was a wererat.
The wererat obviously did not consider him as a threat. It flung its arm towards his face, flitting him away as one would do to a fly. Nalion's physique wouldn’t exactly classify as sturdy, the backhanded swat on his cheek causing him to be knocked back and lose his footing. His cheek stung, as well as his side. Somehow he had managed to land on the same beginnings of a bruise he had earlier as Erevan had knocked him out of the chair. Nothing was broken at least.
He hastily lifted himself to a seated position, preparing to fire a spell.
“Conglacio,” he muttered as he twisted his fingers, aiming a blast of freezing energy towards the wererat. It was now going after Ilias. It should not have underestimated Nalion purely based on size and physical strength. He hit it in the right side of its face, the creature yelping and grasping its fur in pain as it rapidly formed into icicles.
At the same time he could hear Ilias next to him. He was speaking with a voice that was somehow both familiar and very strange. It was almost as if someone else spoke, only using Ilias’ mouth as the messenger. The words flowing out of the younger mage were incomprehensible.
Startled by this, Nalion turned around only to see his maybe-friends eyes carrying those peculiar flecks of blue - as if some magical energy was hidden just underneath the human’s skin. Ilias pointed his glowing hand, palm facing its target, towards the wererat that had hit Nalion. The light blue ball of pure energy that blasted from the young mages hand missed narrowly as the wererat curled in pain from the damage Nalion had inflicted. The bolt crackled past it and hit the far off wall.
The tower shook as they all balanced to keep their footing. Except for Erevan, who remained graceful and lethal. And Nalion who was still sitting down. Who knew it could be beneficial to sit down in a fight?
The grizzled ranger took advantage of the chaos. He swiveled his swords skillfully, being mindful to keep his distance from the sharp claws as the wererats recovered. Erevan kept the uninjured one busy while the other one, with their face now half-frozen, lunged at Nalion. Guess he was considered a threat now. He could hear Spiro screeching in the distance.
“Acidum!” Nalion cried out, thrusting his hands in front of him as a spray of acid spurred forth. The wererat gripped its stomach as it howled in agony. The smell of the acidic burn filled his nostrils. Nalion's fingers were trembling. He hated causing pain. He had always been more of a healer and less of a fighter.
Another blue ball of energy flew past him, grazing the already injured wererat before fizzling out behind the creature. However, the impact of it was enough to drop the wererat on its knees. Its eyes were squeezed tightly shut and its breathing was shallow. Ilias took this time to position himself in between Nalion and the wererat, holding his spear. The pointy end was directed towards the creature.
They stood like that for a moment as if frozen in place, as the rat struggled to stand up. Then Erevan, covered in splattered blood, appeared behind the wererat. The ranger brought down the hilt of his sword on the rat's head. Nalion winced in sympathy as the rat lost consciousness, its body crumpling like a marionette whose strings were cut.
“Are you hurt? Were you bitten?” Nalion prattled, concerned.
Erevan sheathed his swords and then waved his hand in the air dismissively. “Naah, just a few scrapes. Nothing serious.”
Nalion pursed his lips and set his hands on his hips, trying his best to look stern. “Let me take a look.”
Erevan sighed dramatically, seeming very put upon, but nonetheless allowed him to do a quick inspection. Most of the blood on him wasn’t his, based on the way it had splattered on the ranger. It was already drying to a murky brown instead of bright red. The fact that Erevan was mostly unharmed was something Nalion was infinitely thankful for. Though there were some gashes on his arm. They were likely caused by claws, based on how even and straight the cuts were.
They weren’t life-threatening, not at all, though still a bit deeper than Nalion was comfortable with to leave unattended. There was always the risk of infection.
Nalion mumbled the healing chant soothingly as he lifted his hand on top of the sluggishly bleeding gashes. Healing was slower than combat spells, reflecting the nature of the world even without magical aid. It was always much easier and much faster to hurt than it was to heal.
Erevan rolled his eyes. The gashes shrank and slowly disappeared, as Nalion continued chanting, leaving faint pink lines in their stead. Ilias watched from the sidelines, eyes as wide as the plates had been in the dining room with the dead. Nalion didn’t really know why. Maybe he had thought Erevan invincible?
As soon as he was done, Erevan wrenched his arm free and stalked over to the unconscious rat. Who had now morphed into a human with a long nose and mousy brown hair. Even in human form the frostbite in his face was obvious, his clothing singed around the side and middle of his abdomen. Nalion caught a glimpse of an acid burn underneath, as well as another kind of burn. That one was most likely caused by Ilias’s attack. All of it was making him a little queasy as he fidgeted with the edges of his sleeves. It had to hurt.
Did he mention how he hates violence?
The ranger grabbed some rope from his backpack and began to roughly tie up the creature. Nalion raised his eyebrow in wonder. “What are you doing Erevan?” he asked, the ever-present curiosity peeking despite the queasiness.
“Saw them in the town. We’re gonna question him, see what they’re doing here,“ Erevan answered gruffly as he finished tying the last knot. He then propped up the creature so that the wererat was in a sitting position, with his back against the cool wall.
“Alright,” conceded Nalion. “But no torture!”
Erevan rolled his eyes again. “Let’s wake him up.”
The ranger nudged the at-the-moment-human-rat with the toe of his boot. The wererat remained limp as a sack of potatoes, head lolling from one shoulder to another. Erevan fished forth his water flask with a frown on his face and threw some of the water at the creature's face.
The human-rat spluttered as he regained consciousness. He looked around wildly, seeing the corpse of his companion as well as their odd little company. Blood drained from his face, leaving him as pale as Yoric.
Erevan crossed his arms while directing a menacing glare towards the wererat. Nalion swallowed reflexively. Erevan could be very scary when he wanted to. The elf was glad he wasn’t on the receiving end of that particular stare anymore.
“What are you doing here?” Erevan asked, voice cold and steady.
The human-rat’s face did a series of weird twitches before settling on a steely neutrality.
“I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’,” he mumbled decisively. Nalion hadn’t known it was possible to both mumble and be decisive. Intriguing.
“You want to end up like your friend there?” Erevan countered, raising an eyebrow.
A glint of something flashed in the wererat’s eyes.
“I don’t know nothin’,” he said, more clear this time.
The tension in the room abated somewhat as Ilias sneezed.
“Sorry,” the blond said with a smile, “I happen to be allergic to bullshit.”
The wererat poignantly pressed his lips tight against each other and looked away. Erevan pinched the bridge of his nose. He stood there for a moment before abruptly swiveling around. The ranger caught Ilias in his piercing stare as Nalion looked on in the sidelines.
“Read his mind,” the ranger ordered.
Ilias’s face also did a series of small twitches before settling in a small smile. “You know, I never did re-”
“Yeah, yeah, so you say. Can you do it or not?” interrupted Erevan, impatient.
“Um, I think so?” answered their youngest member hesitantly.
“What do you mean “I think so”?” asked Nalion, feeling confused. Either Ilias could or he couldn't. There was no middle ground, no gray area.
“Oh, well, I have never done it but I think I can? I mean, it feels like I probably will?” The words pouring out of Ilias’s mouth were more akin to questions than statements.
Nalion blinked, now utterly flabbergasted. “How could you do it if you have never done it? That makes no sense! Who taught you?!”
“No one really taught me. That’s how it was with the other stuff too, I just had a feeling and then it happened,” Ilias made a hand-wavy gesture which was clearly meant to mimic the intricacies of casting a spell.
“But- But how? If you never learned the words or the gestures, how?”
Ilias shrugged, unsure. “I don’t know, it just happens.”
Nalion closed his eyes and took a deep breath. ‘It just happens’. None of this made any sense. That’s not how the world worked! That's not how magic worked! It had to have something to do with the humans specific type of magic, Nalion concluded. He had noticed it was different and novel, he just hadn’t realized how much so.
Erevan interrupted his inner tirade as the ranger snorted derisively. He then barked, “Well, do it.”
Ilias nodded quickly, before sitting cross legged in front of the wererat. The creature had been watching them talk, eyes darting from side to side as if watching a ball game. As Ilias sat down, the wererat looked away again.
Flecks of glowing light blue appeared in the dark brown of Ilias’s eyes as he began casting the spell. They were larger and more prominent than they’d been before, Nalion noted with interest. Must have something to do with the complexity of the spell, or how much energy it required. He should write this down.
He began searching for a notebook, slowly and quietly since he didn’t want to disturb the process. Then Ilias said a few words. Or what Nalion presumed were words. He still could not for the life of him comprehend anything the human was saying while casting. There was no relation to the arcane language he’d learned. Which was also quite fascinating.
Silence fell. Ilias kept staring at the wererat, the blue light dancing in his eyes. Nalion hastily scribbled down a few words before looking at the others. He could see how Erevan’s hand rested on the hilts of his swords. The ranger was clearly ready for battle at a moment's notice. Just in case. He wondered if Erevan ever fully relaxed. Maybe with enough beer.
Spiro seemed to sense the tense atmosphere as he paced around in the ground, tail swishing anxiously. Sometimes he even bared his teeth towards the wererat, causing a low growl to pool from the depths of the pseudodragons chest.
Meanwhile Yoric was watching, mute. It was impossible to guess what might have gone on inside the skeletons head. To be fair, Nalion struggled with encoding body language on a daily basis, but having someone completely without any features must be a challenge for anyone.
The rat was gritting its teeth as Ilias took in a sharp breath. The flecks of blue faded away, leaving only brown behind. The look in his eyes was a serious one. Or that’s what Nalion thought at least. They all huddled closer to Ilias.
“So?” grunted Erevan.
“It was a bit of a haze, and he was clearly trying to block me, but this is what I’ve gathered so far: there are a lot of them. And when I say a lot I mean A LOT. They have been spreading all over the country, slowly and in secret. They are in the beginning of what they have dubbed as “phase two”, which seems to be to take over the lands of Lucca. If I grasped it correctly, they even have some kind of rat king or something. They are also working with demons, most of them not very powerful. I did get a flash of something with yellow eyes, I think that’s behind this a-”
Erevan gritted his teeth together so tightly, Nalion was surprised they weren’t ground to dust. Ilias quieted down, noticing the expression on Erevan’s face. The ranger scowled and gestured for Ilias to continue.
“Anyway,” the young mage said quickly, “there apparently is some kind of large, intelligent creature here they are trying to control or keep in deep sleep or something. As I said it was a bit hazy. BUT the most acute thing is…”
Ilias’s voice went low as he wet his lips. “Well, they are going to turn the townsfolk into them. Like turn them into these rat creatures too. They were there to scout before and now one of them has been tasked to bring food there, only the food is tainted. And will turn them if consumed.” The blond grimaced. “We need to go there and stop it before the third one comes back.”
“Agreed,” said Erevan begrudgingly.
For a moment Ilias looked comically shocked, eyes nearly bulging out, before schooling his features to a more neutral expression. Then Erevan continued, “See if you can find out more before we go.”
They turned to face the wererat again, only for him to lunge out of his bindings. The rope collapsed on the ground, now useless. Nalion could see ragged cuts along the coarse material. The creature was turning into a rat once more while making a desperate grab for Ilias’ spear, lying forgotten on the floor. But Erevan was faster.
The ranger lifted his bloody sword, shaking his head. “Shame,” he rasped.
The rat moved no more.
“To the village,” decided Nalion. The others nodded.