Mr. Sundberg showed up to class with a stack of papers on Friday, which was never a good sign. For a second, Micah panicked at the thought of a pop quiz. But the exams were over.
He handed them out and spoke, “As you know, one of the goals of our school is to foster a healthy relationship with the Climber’s Guild. Well, in the spirit of that relationship, the Guild has made a request of us—of you—and Principal Denner has agreed on your behalf.”
He wasn’t sure if he liked the sound of that. Would this mean more work for them or something?
“Fewer people are surging toward the Tower to explore its changes. Or rather, fewer people are exploring the lower floors. Most climbers want to go up. The day jobbers don’t go far in. Trends are slowly popping up again which were popular when I was your age, heading in for a few days at a time, but those are few and far between and largely unprofessional.
So, since you will be required to write expedition reports along with your essays anyway, we have decided to put an extra emphasis on surveying the floors you will be visiting, in regards to your grade, and then sharing the information you will have gathered with the Guild.”
That … kind of sounded like they were being used as cheap labor for the Guild. And they were putting an extra emphasis on surveying the floors, not bringing back loot?
“Any discoveries you make might earn you extra points. Any information you discover will help our school assure the city that the lower floors are safe enough to let students in. Doing well is in your best interests.”
He changed his mind. He glanced over at Ryan and Lisa. They might be able to help with getting into the Tower more often? He remembered what his mother had said and smiled. Would that mean they could have more than two exams per year? Or regular lessons?
“And yes,” the man said, “this could mean that these discoveries might be part of the Guild’s next publication. Many people in the city would read them, they would be archived in the Registry for future generations, and they could save countless lives.
It also means you won’t get to decide which floor you’re going to.”
The class’s ambitions had slowly been surging as he spoke, only for them to come crashing down at the last line.
What?
Cathy raised her hand, and Mr. Sundberg sighed. She must have taken that as permission to speak so she spoke for all of them, “Excuse me, sir. But … why?”
“Because,” he said, “the Guild’s information on the various floors varies with their popularity. We know much more about the new Salamander’s Den than the Warrens, for example.”
Yeah, because the Warrens sucked. As far as Micah knew. The tunnels were a meter and a half high at best, it was dark, smelly, there wasn’t much air, they tended to crumble and rain dirt down on you—or even collapse—the monsters inside were agile and not that many … The list went on. It was no surprise no professional climbers wouldn’t want to explore there.
But they were expected to?
The stack of papers finally reached them. Micah took his copy from Ryan and handed it along, but paid attention to what their teacher said.
“We have assigned numbers to each of the known floors for the rough amount of teams we will send in. The less we know, the more teams we will be sending. At the very bottom of the paper you just received, you will find a form. Note the three floors you would prefer to go to there and please have one of your team founders hand one of these in at the secretary’s office by Monday. We will keep those preferences in mind during your evaluation and floor assignment.”
Ryan raised his hand. “Excuse me, sir, but some of us have … preferences toward certain floors. Like [Lesser Fire Resistance] or [Find Water]. Things like that. Will these be considered?”
“Of course,” the man said.
His friend visibly relaxed. When Micah frowned at him, he tapped a spot on his page. Micah looked.
“How well equipped your team is to deal with the various floors will factor in with your assignment.”
The Salamander’s Den was one of the floors with the lowest percentages. Of course, it would be popular. The city needed fire crystals and it was warm; a chance to escape the grey Winter.
“But …?” someone else asked.
“But,” Mr. Sundberg agreed, “they are no guarantee.”
Ryan shot right back to attention. He only needed a second to process before he raised his arm. He wasn’t the only one. Apparently, people weren’t happy with not having a guarantee.
“I can imagine what you all want to say, but we will give priority to those teams that do better in evaluations. Those of you who are best equipped to deal with each floor will have nothing to worry about, I can assure you of that. The rest will have to prove themselves in this exam for the following one.”
A few others lowered their hands, but Ryan didn’t. If anything, he stuck it up higher and glared.
“You can ask more questions later.”
He stood and placed his hands on the desk. The class turned to stare at him. “Sir, this has nothing to do with ‘being equipped’, this is about our education.”
“Yes, we generally have that in mind, too, I believe,” he joked. “Now—”
“I have the [Salamander Path],” Ryan said. “I came to here to further it. I’m going to the Salamander’s Den.”
Micah kind of felt like there was an, “Or else,” missing there. He glanced from his friend to Mr. Sundberg.
The man was met his glare with a casual look. “Sit back down. We can speak about after class.”
Ryan didn’t move.
“Sit, Mr. Payne,” he repeated.
Everyone else was staring.
Reluctantly, his friend sat back down. He didn’t drop his glower, though. Micah wasn’t quite sure what had gotten into him. Ryan was normally one to respect and demand respect for authority figures.
Their teacher gave him one last tired glance before he sighed and moved on. He jumped into a list of things they should keep an eye out for and taught them how to properly write a report for the Guild.
They kept notes, but in the back of his head, Micah was running through their preparations. He had his ring, Ryan the raincoat, his spear, and his Path, Brent’s cooking pot for water, his [Lesser Fire Resistance] meals and … that was it, wasn’t it? Maybe Jason’s [Lesser Weather Resistance] Skill would count something against the heat of the floor, but he doubted it.
He really wished Kyle had shared more with them. It might have helped ease his mind. He hoped it would be enough, in comparison to the others. How many would want to go to the Salamander’s Den anyway?
He looked around and noticed people from every bench eying them in-between taking notes.
Oh. That many.
Students flooded out of the doors after class ended. Ryan was one of the last to leave.
“And?” Micah asked, stepping forward. He’d waited up.
One hand in his backpack strap, his friend looked grumpy. “He just repeated himself. My Path will be taken into account during the evaluation, but it is no guarantee. And, I should act more ‘appropriately’ in the future, or something.” He scowled and started walking down the hall.
Micah glanced back. A handful of students were waiting their turn to speak with Mr. Sundberg after Ryan, Cathy being one of them. “He didn’t give you a punishment or anything, right? You didn’t really do anything.”
“No. But he didn’t seem happy.”
Well, neither did he.
Alex fell into step as they passed him in the hall. “Are you two alright, now?”
The question didn’t really parse. Micah frowned at him and they slowed a step. “How do you mean?”
Ryan looked like he was ready to throw back a barb.
“Team-wise? You were looking for a team. I’ve seen you hang out with the others. Are you alright now—like, do you cover all of the requirements—or do you still need more members?”
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. Even Ryan seemed to relax his guard a little. “Are you offering?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe? I mean, don’t you have a team yet?”
“Oh, no. I totally do,” he said. “But you guys lost yours so I sent Jason your way. I didn’t know if that would work out. I found a replacement for myself, in case I needed to help. You did invite me, remember? If you need me to, I can still switch. I haven’t handed the paperwork in yet.”
Micah didn’t get why he was offering. Sure, they were friends, but he was presumably also friends with whomever he had joined before them, right? So he was offering to switch teams why?
“If this is pity—” Ryan started. He must have been thinking the same thing along different lines.
“No,” he said and laughed. “Hell, no. We’re friends, right? Or roommates, at least. I don’t want to see you five stuck in the Warrens when I could have helped. I know you can do better than that—I know which level you are—and I also know my team can handle itself, so I’m offering just in case.”
“So this is what?” Micah asked, smiling. “You being friendly?”
He shrugged. “Sure. I just want to make sure everyone gets to where they need to be. As Sundberg said, this is in our best interest.”
So he was doing it for the community.
Ryan shook his head and switched tones. “Why would we even want someone like you on our team? ‘You got any references?”
He chuckled. “What do you need? Let’s hear that first. If I can’t help, I won’t switch, but I might help you look for others.”
Micah glanced at a clock as they turned the corner. They didn’t have that much time to get to their next class, especially after having to wait. Alex and he were roommates. They could talk about this in their room, right?
He didn’t say anything. They could break off if they needed to or get in a minute late. No harm, no foul. Ryan was arguing with teachers after all …
“We’re lacking a true [Mage], both Class and Path, a healer, and someone with more active support abilities,” Ryan caught him up.
Brent and he were more preparation support, with Brent bringing the costs on the few things he could make far down. He could also make more out of any fully-made they fought on the fly. He was a niche, cheap [Alchemist]. Better than nothing, but not ideal.
As Micah thought about that, he began to doubt Alex’s offer. “You wouldn’t happen to be a [Mage] in disguise, would you?” he asked with a chuckle. Otherwise, he couldn’t see him switching over.
Alex didn’t join in. “Well, no,” he said. “I’m not a [Mage]. But I do know how to cast [Lesser Ward] if it’s support Skills you’re looking for.”
He almost stopped in his tracks. “Wait, what?”
“You didn’t know?”
Micah glanced at Ryan, who looked just as lost. They really should have spoken more with his roommates. He couldn’t even blame him, Micah shared enough courses with the guy.
“What Class are you?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t get my spells from my Class. Or Path. You know how some parents sit their kids down when they are young, hand them an instrument, and sign them up for five times weekly lessons?”
Five times weekly? Micah blinked and mumbled, “Sure, sure.” He had no idea what he was talking about.
“Well, I got a spellbook instead,” he said. “I’ve been practicing spells since I was eight.”
“Eight?”
They stopped walking. All three of them. Alex seemed surprised by their surprise.
“Did you even have mana back then?” Ryan demanded. “How did you practice spells? Or even get Skills?”
“I didn’t get my first Skill until I was twelve. My Path. And I got the spells one by one after that. I had to use potion and pills before then,” he said, as if that were an answer.
Twelve …?
He was basically admitting to using some kind of supplements and it was still half a year later than Micah had gotten his. Kyle’s voice rang in his ears, Is that what you’re selling me?
He shook off the thought. He’d gotten lucky, so what?
Alex gave them an uncertain look as he took another step. “I should be able to fulfill the [Mage] and support requirement halfway on paper. And in practice. I can fight with whatever weapon you need me to.”
He looked like he wanted to keep on walking. They didn’t. Ryan crossed his arms and asked, “So how many spells do you know?”
“Officially? Six. [Lesser Ward], [Light], [Create Fire], and the three shaping spells for fire, water, and wind.” He tsked and shook his head. “Never really could wrap my head around [Shape Earth].”
Oh, yeah. Because that is so easy to do. Everyone can cast earth spells. Micah was a little jealous, but he was also glad that he was a fourth child right now. His parents’ high expectations had all gone to waste on Maya and Aaron. They’d been forced to study at the kitchen table and learn instruments in their spare time. He had … lied about hanging out with friends and then ran into the forest.
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At least, he had friends now.
Ryan frowned as if he was trying to wrap his head around something and failed. “How are you not a [Mage] with that many spells?”
Alex shrugged. “Because I don’t want to be one. My father isn’t one either. He told me, I only need to invest the time once until I get the Skills, then I can do whatever I want. The true blessing of Skills, he says, you have them for life—which isn’t necessarily true. Their mana cost increase and quality decrease with disuse. But he had a point. I do have them, now. And I aced the magic theory exam without having to study at all, which was pretty great.”
He grinned. He looked casual enough, boyish and grinning, but Micah understood where “study-Alex” came from, now.
“Potions and pills?” he asked.
“Huh? Oh, right. You’re an [Alchemist]. You’d want to know. Uh, just, potions to increase mana sophistication and control. The pills were regular medicine, I think. For the headaches.”
He must have been too impatient to wait any longer because he slowly started walking away. “So, what will it be, then? Do you need more members? I can also ask around for other [Mages] if you need me to.”
Ryan shook his head and took a step back himself. They had different courses. “We can’t decide anything right now.”
Micah caught on with a smile. “Yeah, not without our team. Sorry, Alex. Maybe later? I mean, you are roommates.”
He really could have mentioned something earlier. But if it hadn’t been for this change, Micah guessed, it wouldn’t have been a problem. The worst the school could have done was deny them access to the fourth floor. They still could have gotten where they wanted to be.
“Oh, right,” Alex joked and nodded. “I thought you looked familiar. Before dinner, then? Or during.”
“Sure. It’s a date.”
It wasn’t a date. They had to meet up afterward as they failed to communicate. Not all of them shared courses and not all of them had the free time to meet up right after school ended.
They only found Jason and Brent during dinner, the latter of which had come in late. Then it was a question of satisfying Kyle’s paranoia because they were “officially competing against one another, now.”
They regrouped in their room and discussed what to do; how they could improve their assessment.
“I just want to go on something resembling a proper adventure,” Jason said. He was offering to buy cheap trinkets in the Bazaar, “not be forced to work for the Guild without even getting paid.”
He was right. It might improve their assessment. And he said as they lasted for the entirety of the exam, it would be worth it. But Micah wasn’t so sure himself. It seemed like a cheap trick the teachers would see through, and cheap besides. He didn’t want to buy a magic item he knew would soon break.
Tools were meant to last.
Brent scratched his chest and shrugged. “I could try coming up with something a little stronger for the exam, like a recipe for [Wool Coat]. It’d be more expensive, though. I envy Patrick for being able to just ‘cast it,’ just like that.” He fished his hand out of his shirt to snap for effect.
“[Wool Coat]?” Kyle and Micah asked at the same time as Ryan asked, “Patrick?”
“Fire resistance and toughness, among other stuff,” Brent said, “and Patrick. Uh, the [Shepherd]? You know, beefy, hairy, gruff guy. He knows a spell that can give others the Skill on its own.”
Beefy and hairy made him think of Brent. Gruff didn’t fit, though. Micah had no idea who he was talking about.
“Uh, he always hangs out with Felix, and lil’ Lukas, and one of the [Enchanters]. Connor.”
Micah spun on Ryan. “Do you know him?”
After a moment, he shrugged. Why the delay?
“Why are we talking about some [Shepherd]?” Kyle asked. “We should be talking about him.” He nudged his chin at Alex, who was sitting on the edge of his bedrest across from them.
He raised a hand in greeting.
“Papers?” Kyle asked.
Alex gave him a look. “I’ve been given to understand that you haven’t shared yours with the team?”
“And?”
He stared for a moment and Micah worried there might be more barbs, but then his face cracked into a wide smile. “I’ll share. But not with you.”
He held back a chuckle at Kyle’s annoyed face. And when Alex glanced at the rest of them, he nodded to show that he would play along. The other four’s vindictive smiles said the same.
As he handed the paper to Jason, Micah leaned over to look to the corner. “Hey, Brent. You have [Basic Bargaining], right? Do you want to help me buy ingredients before the exam? Maybe this weekend?”
“Sure,” he said. “I have to check my schedule, but I bet we can find a time that works.”
“Awesome.”
“‘Can’t believe you’re asking Alex for his Proof Of paper in the first place,” Jason mumbled as he handed it over.
“Why? Does he have a reputation or something?”
“You could say that.”
Micah didn’t have to ask for clarification. He got what he meant in a moment.
[Tor Path]
[Skills: Sense of Duty, Lesser Magic Resistance, Wolfgang Mattias Tor’s Poise]
[Warrior Level 6]
[Skills: Basic Maintenance, Lesser Strength, Adaptive Lessons, Lesser Coordination, Sure Grip]
[Guard level 1]
[Archer level 1]
[Skills: Basic Fletching, Aimed Strike]
[Other: Light, Create Fire, Shape Fire, Shape Water, Shape Wind, Lesser Ward]
“Wow.”
“What?” Kyle asked.
Micah slowly handed the page on to Ryan and frowned at Alex. He tried to put as much sincere forced politeness into his voice as possible when he asked, “You’re really only level one?”
Kyle spun on him. “You’re level one?”
He couldn’t keep the ruse up for any longer than the way Kyle said the word “one” and broke into laughter.
The guy caught on and told them to go screw themselves. Kyle seemed especially anxious about the school’s decision to assign floors. Micah could empathize. He didn’t want to be stuck on a bad one, either, but it was funny to see him on edge.
Alex, meanwhile, smiled and sagged back a bit onto his bed. He seemed almost relieved about something.
So he had a Family Path, then? [Wolfgang Mattias Tor’s Poise] gave it away. That could only be a family Skill. They dedicated themselves to themselves, like Neil’s family did. They had the [Family Path] in general but if it went on for a few generations, they might also adopt a last name.
His seemed familiar to him until he remembered something Lisa had taught him about nobles. Weren’t they that famous [Guard] family?
Ryan must have just gotten through the long list himself because he looked up and said, “Hey, I had no idea you were a Tor.”
Alex gave him a look. “That honestly explains so much.”
“It does,” Jason agreed.
Hadn’t his mom’s boss been a Tor? A [Gatekeeper]. Aura Skills. Micah vaguely remembered a conversation. More clearly, he remembered the emotions from back then. Homesick, hurt, confusion … gratitude. It had been the second night he had stayed over at Ryan’s house.
He bumped into his friend for no reason at all and backed him up, “Hey, we can’t all be childhood friends or something.” How were they supposed to have known his ... roommate's last name ... Okay, maybe it had been stupid, but Micah backed him up anyway.
“We’re not friends,” Jason and Alex both said.
It got them amused stares from the rest of them. It sure seemed like they were.
They didn’t have much to debate, then. Of course, they would love to have Alex on their team. If he would join them.
“Hey, so who were you with before us?” Brent asked. “Just so I need to know who I have to look out for if your jealous ex-lovers come looking for us.”
Alex chuckled. “Just Raphael and the others.”
Micah perked up. “Raphael from gym class?”
“Yeah.”
To make it official, they finished up Alex’s paperwork at the secretary's office … and then promptly forced him to join them in a sparring session in the gym.
He won against Ryan. Definitely happy to have him on the team.
They went shopping, finished up their papers and recipes, tried to learn some last-minute spells to look better on the assessment, and all horribly failed. And then, all they could do was wait.
----------------------------------------
The workshop was full for once and every seat was taken. Two teachers stood at the front and spoke about their preparations. They would check their work, thankfully. Their recipes were mostly new to them, new entirely, or untested. They wouldn’t want to give them to their classmates unchecked.
Micah had his own bundle of copies in his backpack and a sack of ingredients lying next to his feet. He would make sure to follow them to the letter. Not just for his teammate’s sake, but because he couldn’t afford to make a mistake.
“We will be making middle-grade healing potions in bulk for those of you who want to save a little more on the costs,” Mr. Jung said. “Anyone who wants to make theirs themselves can do that, of course. The offer stands. Sign up, pay the fee, and we’ll find a way for you to assist during the process.”
Micah mulled it over for a moment and chose bulk. He had made enough middle-grade healing potions in the last half year to be in repetition territory and enough other recipes to make besides. This would save him time and money.
He waited in line for the list, but the process would only start in forty-five minutes. The students were left mostly to their own devices, then, with the two teachers walking around and peering over shoulders when they weren’t otherwise occupied. The class broke up as everyone rushed to get their equipment from the cupboards, fill their bottles, and start their flames.
Micah was used to avoiding the crowd from the months he hadn’t been able to participate at all and had been a nuisance because of his crutches and leg. Instead, he placed his bag on his lap and pulled out a black beetle horn the size of his forearm.
Brent and he had bought it two days ago. It looked like a mixture of black licorice and see-through candy. The Honey Ants had competition. They weren’t sure on what to name them, but the one he’d bought it under was Molasses Beetle.
He would make a strength potion out of it for Jason. A surprise of sorts—he had checked with everyone but him on the extra price and included the recipe. It actually hadn’t been that high. Brent had swindled the vendor into thinking he just wanted it because it looked cool.
Which it did. It looked totally awesome. It looked like something you could whack someone else over the head with.
A shame to break. But that was alchemy.
The other ingredients were purple dew-cups, a type of flower that produced and collected essence-infused liquid in its head. They were still studying the liquid’s properties, but that wasn’t what the recipe needed them for. They needed the petals for their pattern, their membrane.
The final ingredients were regular Honey Ant parts, ram’s horn, and a powder mixture for the potion to work with.
He put a few other ingredients on the counter—jars of blue slime, salamander scales, crystals, a bottle of oil, flour, sugar—and glanced around. Mason sat two seats off from him. Their mutual bench-neighbor was gone for the moment, off to fetch their own equipment, he guessed.
He thought about it for a moment and then called, “Hey, Mason?”
The guy glanced up from his own ingredients, a lot of which were similar. He also had something that looked like a seaweed, leaves like butterfly wings, filled marbles—
“What’s up?”
“Uhm, if you need that tip on offense spells after all …”
“Are you kidding me?” he asked with a smile. “No way. I think I’ve already figured it out.”
“Wait, you have?”
“Yeah. I mean, I think I have. And I invested way too much time into it, I’m not letting you just tell me before I get a chance to try it out on my own. Look, I borrowed a whole bunch of books, too.”
He leaned down to tilt his backpack, then pulled out one of three books halfway out for him to see.
“Books?”
He seemed vaguely excited. Had this been fun for him?
“Yeah, books. [Alchemist] Skill lists, an old journal from one a few decades ago, a first generation source that mentions them. Did you know the first generation [Alchemists] knew a spell called— Oh,” he caught himself. “Uh, not sure if I should share? You like Path autonomy, don’t you?”
Actually, Micah had no idea what that was but he could guess based on context. “Does it no longer exist?”
He shook his head. “No, it does. But it’s really rare from what I’ve been able to figure out. I wonder why some Skills were more common back then. Or why Skills change with generations at all.”
“Well, they haven’t, have they?” Micah asked. “Isn’t that half the reason why this school even exists?”
He smiled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“You’ve really put a lot of effort into this, haven’t you?”
“No,” he said. “Well, not really. I put this much effort into everything that ‘gets’ me. I focus on one thing and try really hard to figure it out, or until I get the Skill for it, and then move on to the next. But I … kind of let everything else fall by the wayside when I do. Good thing exams are over or I would be screwed.”
“Oh, am I distracting you from exam preparations—”
“No, no, no,” he quickly cut him off. “It’s always something. I’m glad it’s this. You were right.”
“Oh. Thank you?”
He chuckled and looked pleasantly annoyed. “So, do you want to know what I figured out?”
Did he?
“Maybe after the exam?” Micah asked. “We can compare notes, then. And you can tell me the locations of your sources.”
“Sure. Good luck, then.”
“You, too.”
He sat back down with a bit of a spin on his chair. That had gone better than he’d thought. He was glad Mason wasn’t actually angry with him. He hadn’t really thought he would be, but he had feared he wasn’t happy.
This was good. Maybe Micah wasn’t always making such an ass of himself after all.
He finished setting up his ingredients and workplace, and got his safety goggles and gloves.
Then, he took a deep breath and turned the horn over in his hands. Molasses beetle. Honey Ant. Strength Potions. Even Brent could make recipes out of them that would grant [Lesser Strength] for a while. It wasn’t just their patterns—their goop could also be used for intermediate recipes.
[Improved Strength], [Bettered Strength], [Enhanced Strength], [Heightened Strength], [Magnified Strength]. The five standard qualifiers everyone who had finished classroom knew about.
He remembered what Lisa had told him.
Healing, instead of life.
He hadn’t even been able to find that, after weeks of searching for it. He turned the horn over—and turned the essences over as he had when he had worn the appraisal glasses—and searched every nook and cranny. He could find all sorts of things in there, just not anything that resembled strength.
He had been able to find soap essence, even if it was just a little bit. He had been able to find natural candle essence and other things. Lisa had said not all benches had “bench essence,” and even those that did only had a little bit. Maybe he needed a different horn?
No.
He looked through the Honey Ant parts, wasting a good portion of the lesson while Mr. Jung gave him the stink eye, but couldn’t find anything there either. He had really been hoping strength essence existed. It would make life so much easier. But rather than finding new essences, it seemed like he was just pushing at the boundaries of what was part of his sight.
What he needed was a whole new perspective; a new page to turn to.
He closed his eyes, focused, and let his mind wander as Lisa had told him. When he opened them up again, all he could see were silver shells rippling around people as they worked.
A type of mana sight.
Not what he needed. He had to give up half his regular vision and nature sight to see it. The workshop looked like a blurry mess all around him, aside from bits and pieces of people.
He closed his eyes again and imagined other essences, thinking of Ryan and his old room at his parents’ house. Open. The world danced around him as essences flared. A few people reacted, but there was nothing visible to notice. They were perceptive about minor details.
It sucked.
Nothing to do but keep on trying, a voice inside him told him. Slow and steady wins the race.
He sighed and guessed he had no other choice. At the very least, he wouldn’t solve this right now. So he leaned over to breathe in a sip of mist essence to cool down and got to work.
----------------------------------------
For what had to be the first time that Winter, it was properly snowing. Fluffy flakes of white drifted down on their heads as they waited outside of the Tower. So unfair, Micah thought as he pulled his tongue back in and rubbed a flake off his nose. They wouldn’t even get to enjoy it.
They were bundled up in thick coats. Cathy had reminded the school to arrange a coat check for those who wouldn’t need theirs on the inside, which was most of them.
Above the portal, seven lines of foreign letters had burnt themselves into the impervious stone of their little World Wonder. Seven. Almost like a declaration of war, he thought.
If so, it wasn’t only one declaration. Long gouges had burnt themselves into the sides, the ground, the stone around those words. Their scorch marks glimmered in pastel colors. Like arcs from a flare, they encircled the entire portal and repeated the provocation in other writing.
Not other languages. Just other writing. Older verbiage, different word choice, other fonts and sizes, and even something people thought was supposed to be Dwarvish braille. If so, none of their blind knew how to read it. Maybe the thought counted?
Micah kind of wished they could have at least one last snowball fight here before they had to head in. He worried they wouldn’t have any snow after this. It was already getting warmer. He could feel it in his bones.
But the line shuffled onward and his team drew his attention. Ryan checked on him every now and then, Brent slapped him on the back and asked if he was excited, Jason answered in his stead.
Kyle hung back, but looked like he wanted to cut in line and run in on his own. Alex waved to another group and cupped his hands in front of his mouth to shout a conversation. When he turned back to them, he asked to make sure that they had all been to the toilet.
Brent laughed and said, “Sure, dad.”
“I wasn’t joking.”
Their luggage weighed them down. They didn’t really want to set it in the snow. Micah still couldn’t believe Jason had bought and brought an actual pickaxe. “We might need it,” he’d said.
Well, if he thought so. He was the one who had to carry it. It still brought a smile to Micah’s lips.
Eventually, their turn came, they handed off their coats, and hugged themselves in the cold weather while the Guild clerk told them what they needed to know. The escort buffed them with a spell.
They all looked at each other, their teammates, for better or for worse—and Micah was surprised to find he still would rather have Lisa than all four of them; he had the decency to feel guilty about the thought, both ways. At least, they were six. A stable number. A good number. They took a deep breath and stepped forward.
The excitement burning in their chests brought them elsewhere, and it was gloriously warm in the Lost Mines of their Tower.
“Alright,” Ryan said, “follow the plan.”
Kyle ran off.
All of them were too shocked to do anything.
Six steps in, he turned around and smirked at their dumbfounded faces. “Just kidding, assholes.”
“Dammit, Kyle.” Whoever said it, he spoke for all of them.