Eldren found the wizard's tower easily. In fact, it was so hard to miss that it would have been more of a challenge not to find it. Standing tall and alone in the middle of one of the side courtyards of Nottegrad Keep, the tower looked the part of a wizard’s dwelling. Made of stone blocks, it was crooked and appeared wobbly, ready to fall over in a strong gust of wind. It leaned side-to-side as it reached toward the sky as if the builders had been swaying on a rope swing as they placed the stones. The top was adorned with tired-looking blue wooden shingles, several of which had blown off and never been replaced, and an old iron weather vane that spun freely. He approached the small wooden door at the bottom.

Ding.

He pulled the crystal ball from the front pocket of his sweatshirt.

Quest Complete!

Visit the Nottengrad Keep wizard’s tower. (1/1)

Experience Gained: 1

Easy enough. He moved to tuck the orb away again.

Ding.

New Quest:

Enter and explore the Nottengrad Keep wizard’s tower.

He was going to need to figure out how to put this thing on silent mode. He sighed and turned his attention back toward the door. What had Espella said? No password was set yet? He assumed that meant he could enter. After all, he supposed the tower was his, even if only temporarily.

He reached for the doorknob. As his hand made contact a sound startled him and he jumped back.

“AHAHA!”

What in God’s name? He looked around. He was alone in the courtyard except for a boy mucking out the stables across the way.

“Did you say something?” he called to the boy.

“What?” He looked up from his work, pitchfork in hand, obviously confused.

“Never mind,” Eldren called back, still confused. He reached for the doorknob again.

“AHAHHHHHHH! Stop! That tickles!”

The door was talking. Somehow. From somewhere. He couldn’t see a mouth anywhere on it. He stepped back and stared, his own jaw partly open in surprise. To the door’s credit, his mouth would have been fully agape if not for having just talked to a giant crow man.

“Uh— sorry,” he said.

“Oh ho ho ho, hahaha,” the door chuckled. “Phew, woo, woah. Okay, okay.”

“Can I get inside?” he asked.

“I don’t know, can you?” the door replied.

“I’m trying but every time I touch the knob, you laugh.”

“Why does that stop you from opening the door?”

It was a fair point. He had chosen to pull his hand away each time the door had made a sound. He reached back and grabbed the knob.

“BAH BOO!”

He jumped back again in surprise.

“Bah ha ha haha! Got you!” the door sounded as if it was rolling in laughter despite remaining, in reality, a perfectly and ordinarily still wooden door.

“This is a lot of time wasted to open a door,” Eldren said, growing irritated.

“The most fun I’ve had all day,” said the door. “Nobody has tried to open me for a while.”

“I’m the new mage,” Eldren replied. “So, you know. I need into the mage’s tower.”

“Wizard’s tower,” the door chided.

“Whatever,” Eldren said, now fully irritated. “Just let me in.”

“What’s your name?” the door asked, ignoring his request.

“Eldren,” he said grumpily. “What’s yours?”

“What— what’s mine?” The door sounded genuinely shocked to be asked. “Nobody has ever asked me that before.”

“Great, well. I’m asking. What is it?”

“I don’t know,” the door replied, sounding distant and pensive.

“What do you want to be called?” Eldren asked. He just wanted to go inside.

“Hmmm,” the door said. It was thinking. “I think. I think I’d like to be called ‘Door’.”

This was getting ridiculous.

“Okay, Door. Can I—“ he stopped himself from falling into the word trap again. “Will you let me go in?”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Alright, alright,” Door said. “Here.” It swung inward of its own accord.

“Thanks,” he muttered, as he entered the tower. Door swung itself closed behind him and he thought he could immediately hear it snoring. What a wild place his subconscious had dreamed up.

The inside of the tower was mostly empty on the ground floor. A small circular table with a candelabra sat in a tiny alcove and around the outside of the tower, a wooden spiral staircase ascended. It was attached to the outer walls of the tower by rusty iron brackets. It looked incredibly unstable. Still, Eldren counted himself lucky that none of the other architectural features of the tower were talking to him. He began to climb the stairs, figuring the living quarters must be on a floor higher up.

It turned out that the tower had only two floors: the bottom and the top. And the top, it turned out, was a long way up. It almost felt impossibly long, as if the inside of the tower were somehow even taller than it had appeared outside. Huffing and puffing, he stopped several times on the way up, wishing he had some water. These stairs were murder.

Finally, at long last, he arrived at the top floor of the wizard’s tower. It was much larger than the bottom floor, which he supposed was naturally due to magic. A large, ornately carved four-post bed with a sagging mattress occupied part of one wall. The quilt on the bed was navy blue and adorned with sewn-on stars and moon symbols. A bit contrived, he thought.

Bookshelves of various shapes and sizes were scattered around the tower, with leather-bound volumes in all the colors of the spectrum and scrolls of parchment spilling out. At the very center of the room was a massive desk. Ardos, it seemed, had died without a chance to tidy up. An inkwell and quill were messily strewn across the desk alongside more stacks of books and papers. Oddly, the hearth was still roaring with a large fire over which a massive pewter cauldron was suspended seemingly by nothing. Eldren wondered if the fire ever went out.

A lone case full of shelves set apart from the others drew his attention. It was not full of books and paper, but rather an assortment of wizardly instruments. Brass telescopes, scales for weighing things, spinning metal disk devices, an hourglass that he didn’t dare touch, and other strange tools. On the top shelf of the case was a small glass terrarium. He stood on his tiptoes and peered inside. A small tortoise, perhaps the size of a guinea pig, stood on a rock munching a leaf.

Eldren examined a few other items on the shelf and then crossed to the desk. He’d have to tidy this up, eventually. But not now. He was exhausted and needed to think about what he should do next to escape this purgatory fantasy, either to pass on or get back to his real life as Cam.

He was about to cross over to the bed to try and sleep. He’d need it to help him figure out how he was going to sell himself at this war council that Espella had said was tomorrow. They’d already delayed several more days because of him. But before he moved, something caught his eye. The quill and ink bottle were sitting next to an envelope. An envelope with his name on it. And not his wizard name. In delicate handwriting which he immediately recognized as the same writing from the book he had signed before everything had gone black, his real name was written.

Cam

He eyed the envelope. Could the explanation for what had happened to him be inside? He grabbed it and held it momentarily before slitting it open with a letter opener he found conveniently on the desk.

Cam,

It is with immense gratitude that I thank you for signing up to serve as the temporary mage of Nottengrad. Per the terms of the contract, this tower, its contents, and its inhabitants are yours, to do with as you please. The box on the bedside table is also a gift for you. I believe you will find that it helps you immensely.

Yours in magick,

Ardos

P.S. Until appropriate, I would encourage you to continue using the name Eldren Pendergast. Your secret will be safe with me.

He read the letter again. Why did he spell magic with a ‘k’? He shook his head. Why was that what he was focused on? This man knew his real name. He knew his pretend name. He knew that he signed the book back at the game store in his real life. How?

He was here, it seemed, by someone — not just someone, but Ardos’—design. Why?

He wandered to the bedside table and found the box that the letter mentioned. It was an ornately decorated wooden box with silver inlaid vines curling around the edges. It was latched shut. He opened it.

What happened next occurred so quickly that Eldren had no time to process what was going on. When he opened the box, a small, metallic silver object shot out of the box toward his face.

“Gaaaah!” He jumped back, instinctively shielding his mouth and eyes with his arms and hands. Whatever the object was, it had multiple sharp legs.

Why are there so many spider-like creatures in this place?

The construct latched onto his forearm and attempted to burrow its way past his hands and reach his face. It was about the size of a standard lighter and was going for his nose.

Absolutely not.

Eldren tucked his head and recoiled, stumbling backward until he bumped into the desk, still fending off the silvery machine from reaching his face. He twisted, and pulled himself up, across, and over the desk, sending the paper, books, and ink flying everywhere. The creature was relentless, clicking, digging, and pecking at his hands. Its sole purpose seemed to be to reach his face. He fell onto the floor face first, wrestling and fighting to twist his head away from the thing.

Eldren did not know what would happen if the object reached his nose but he was not interested in finding out. He was certain it was not good.

“Get. Off. Of. Me.” He shouted. He pulled one hand free and, after getting a finger sliced by the silver construct, managed to wrap his fingers around one of its appendages and gain a grip. He pulled as hard as he could to rip it from his other forearm and flung it against the far wall. He heard a smash and crash and the breaking of glass. He had thrown it against the tortoise’s terrarium.

Suddenly, the room went quiet. He waited anxiously from the floor, eyes locked on the shattered terrarium on the top shelf. He didn’t see any movement. Slowly, he pulled himself up and stuck his bleeding finger in his mouth to suck off the blood and then pulled his sleeve up over his hand to staunch any further bleeding.

He stepped cautiously toward the shelf, poised to defend himself at a moment’s notice. Slowly, he crossed the room, avoiding shards of terrarium glass that had shattered onto the floor in the collision. The poor tortoise’s rock and lettuce leaf was also on the floor.

He reached the shelf and strained to peer inside what was left of the terrarium. The metallic object was not inside. Neither was the tortoise.

“Oh my gods!” a squeaking, nasally voice exclaimed. Eldren snapped around. Nobody else was in the room.

“Hello?” he said to the room at large.

“You’ve botched the whole thing! You’ve ruined it. You injected me into Nurdle!”

His gaze dropped from the room to the floor. Sitting in front of him was the tortoise. The metal device that had attacked him was shriveled and limp next to it as if it had been emptied of its life force.

The turtle spoke, tilting its wizened head up at Eldren.

“This," it stammered. "This was not supposed to happen.”