1.20

They were immediately greeted by a grand, circular room. Filling most of the room was a thick carpet which consisted of circular symbols of an unknown language. Bodwyn found himself getting lost as he watched the characters move about rug.

A single chair, that looked more like a mini throne stood on the carpet. Intricate, interweaving patterns made from iron and timber wound about each other like filigree vines. A small table with an unstable stack of leatherbound, colourful books sat next to the chair.

The air was fresh and a little sweet. And though there was no fireplace, the temperature was a perfect warmth.

Rich tapestries of all colours hung around the wall, each showing exquisite artworks of great historical events on the world of Merrin.

A rich, velvet-red tapestry stood out to the group as they looked around with wonder. Golden beings moved away from a golden circle; the gods leaving Merrin. With no solid answer as to why they left their creation, and interest in the gods having disappeared in the world, most of the names and purposes of the gods had been forgotten to time.

In their place now were the Paragons. Mighty beings and creatures that had basically become deified by the people of Merrin. Paragons came in a variety of beings, and the more that followed them, the more powerful they became.

The muck-like dwarves that hailed from the Blacktide Marshes of Gamerrah followed a great frog.

Many warriors followed the spier-wielding Harpreet. An immortalised fighter who died when delivering the final blow against a powerful, interdimensional invader almost five hundred years ago.

Far off on another continent was a colossal being made of stone. Collapsed and broken into thousands of pieces, this engine of war from a time long lost, still had its spark of creation and lent its power to those that followed it.

Another tapestry depicted the war between the giants and the small folk. A great silver castle on top of a cloud was at the top, while it showed giants throwing lightning bolts and climbing down beanstalks to join the battlefield below.

A deep green tapestry depicted the war between giants and those on the surface of Merrin. A silver castle sat on a cloud; giants threw lightning bolts as they descended beanstalks to join the fray.

Another tapestry showed a wizard, high on a clifftop, preparing a powerful spell of swirling black. On the opposite end sat a many tentacled creature.

Solid, dark timber bookshelves that rose up to the unseen rooftop lined the wall. Each shelf was bursting at the seams with countless bric-a-brac and unknown gadgets.

“Why did you bring us here cat?” Bodwyn asked. The cat sat by a door and meowed at the group.

“I guess it wants us to open that door,” said Sharampf. The current room matched the size of the tower, and the group were confused about the reality of more rooms.

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

“This is a little weird. I’m going after that ogre, who’s coming?” Kamaya’s frustration could be felt by all.

The cat suddenly appeared in front of Kamaya and glared. It meowed at her.

“Don’t get in my way, cat. I’ve no problem just shooting you. Your partner can always bring you back.” Kamaya aimed an arrow at the cat.

“No need to get violent.” Sharampf reached out and pulled the bow down.

The cat toddled back to the door, turned, and sat, and looked at the group once more. The group approached together, and Fenrick opened the door to reveal a dark room.

“What are you trying to show us?” Sharampf asked the cat. The cat turned and walked into the room. Fenrick followed as the others stayed in the light.

“H…hello? Is anybody there?” The hoarse voice sounded as though it was pierced by a thousand needles.

“Yes, hello. Who is it?” Fenrick replied. Fenrick tightened his grip on his sword and shield.

“Paytor Thirrup. And who are you?”

“Fenrick Jabble. We came across your cat, which led us here. We want to know why.” Fenrick watched as one by one, the rest of the group entered the room, weapons at the ready.

“Oh, so you’ve met Horatio. Well, I’ve got myself stuck in quite the predicament and have been for…a few days I think?”

“Would like to help, but we can’t see anything in this room,” said Sharampf.

“Oh, of course. Be warned, don’t be scared of how I look. My appearance is only a mishap. Horatio?” The cat meowed and the room suddenly lit up and revealed a small chamber of bright, white marble.

Numerous benches covered in confusing glass instruments were scattered about the room. Some of the glass spiralled and others double backed into themselves. Some were as small as a teacup, and others were as big as Fenrick himself. Many bubbled and smoked colours of all sorts.

All of the fancy looking equipment was only a temporary distraction from the horrible sight that awaited them across the room.

A large horse stood before them. Its mane and tail were black, and orange flames spewed from its mouth and sockets. The horse however, had no skin, and all that could be seen was the wet red muscle. From its back rose a humanoid torso with two arms. Everyone realised at once that these two beings were fused together as one flesh.

“Tell me right now why I shouldn’t just shoot you!” Kamaya aimed a glowing arrow at the horrific creature.

In a motion that was almost comical, the fleshy torso flapped its arms as though it were trying to take flight.

“Please, this is just a spell gone wrong. I’m a gnome alchemist and everything backfired. I’m stuck this way, and I don’t want to be, and I don’t want to die. Please help me.” Fear and desperation in its voice.

“How can we help?” Fenrick asked.

“On my desk over there you’ll see some potions and other ingredients. I need you to mix three of those potions in the right amounts as well as add two of the ingredients. It must be done right, otherwise I can die.” Everyone but Kamaya approached the table.

“Ok, how do we do this?” Sharampf asked, a beaker in each hand.

“I need you to combine the green and purple potions first.”

“Done.”

“Now add the orange one. But only a third of what the green and purple ones are combined. An extra drop will have some nasty side-effects.”

Sharampf grabbed the third beaker and carefully poured it into the mixture. Beads of sweat formed across her forehead.

“Now on the table, you’ll see some snakeskin, crushed ginger, and brains of worms. Add them in the order I just described them and bring it to the boil on one of the fires. If it’s right, the liquid will turn a strange, murky pink. If it’s not that colour, its wrong and we don’t have a second chance.” A heavy edge hung in the monster’s voice.

“It’s pink,” Sharampf yelled. She rushed it over and the monster drank the entire mixture.

In a puff of black and yellow smoke, the skinless horse was gone and before them stood a gnome who coughed and spluttered.

The gnome was a little shorter than Fenrick and he had dark skin. A thick and shaggy beard hung down to his stomach, where it was then tucked into a belt that held up his dark red pants. He wore a black tunic with baggy sleeves and a pair of thick, square glasses.

“Nasty stuff. Thank you so much. I really thought I was gonna be trapped like that forever.”