Dear dad,
A storm falls upon Ersand'Enise tonight. What a terrible racket it is! For an hour I attempted to rest my head only for the wind to angrily shake my window. The squalls of Miatto’s great plains seemed so far away under the protection of the monastery’s roof. I plan to have the craftsmen fashion me a pair of ear plugs at the soonest opportunity. In the meantime, I am considering stuffing my ears with the down of my pillow.
Life in the city of magic is terrifyingly convenient. By the time my training concludes I fear I will have become a gadabout. I’ve come to understand why you seldom used the Gift in front of us. Taking turns stoking a fire to keep the baths warm seems like a wasted effort when magic can complete the same task with a mere gesture. I would like to be as disciplined with magic as you, but in order to achieve mastery we students are encouraged to use it at every opportunity. To practice Arcane channeling, I am writing this letter to you with my robe cast aside. If I do not continuously warm myself with the room’s energy, the night chill will take me and my hand will become unsteady.
I was afraid that adjusting to life here would be more difficult, but I am in a more familiar environment than I imagined. Being a student at the academy is not much different from the days I attended primary school at the abbey. We sit at our desks, we listen to our professors, and we take notes. The curriculum here is surprisingly well rounded. Along with our lessons in magic, we continue to study mathematics and literature. It seems that becoming a master thaumaturge requires a vast repertoire of knowledge. I have not made any friends in school yet, but everyone here is friendly enough. I am humbled by the sheer talent that has gathered here. My teachers as well as my peers are all exceptional individuals. My unworthy self must do all I can to keep up.
In your last letter you told me that Colette plans to join the order of the Unconquered Sun. I offer my heartfelt congratulations! Our big sister has always been a fine servant to the Creator. No matter where her purpose may be found, I pray for her night and day. Please thank her for the dried dates. They were delicious. I will think of a fitting return gift soon. I remember her having a vicious craving for fruit pies…
There is so much more I’d like to say but the parchment runs short, and my pen is empty. I eagerly await your next missive. Be well. Oraff keep you. I will visit you all soon.
Yalen
After making one last pen stroke, Yalen set his writing implements aside and took a breather. Goosebumps crept up his arm as he halted his internal heating spell, leaving him vulnerable to the icy night air. The hearth had been extinguished for some time now. Unless Yalen wanted to exhaust himself drawing arcane energy all night, it was best to return to bed. He snuffed his candle and rolled up the letter, intending to seal and deliver it after tomorrow’s classes were over.
Yalen gripped the edge of his study desk and gradually left his chair. He had to take it slow or else he might fall over. It was especially difficult in the hours of Dami, when the extremities grew numb. Right now it felt like his toes had disappeared entirely, which made it hard to stand up straight. Eventually Yalen did manage to get up, though he kept holding the desk with one hand in case his legs couldn’t support his weight.
Yalen shuffled across the floor of the cozy merchant dormitory and headed straight back to bed. He wrapped his quilt around himself and waited for his body heat to fill the space. For a few minutes the only sound in the room was the pattering of rain, the distant howling of the wind, and the muted ticking of a wooden pendulum clock. Yalen silenced his inner thoughts by focusing his attention on the white noise of the rain.
Before the oblivion of sleep could overtake him, Yalen’s peace was disturbed by the sound of something loudly tapping against his window. Alarmed by this disturbance, Yalen pushed himself into a sitting position and looked towards the source of the noise.
Tap tap tap. Something continued to knock on the glass, hidden from view by the drawn curtains. This dorm room was on the second story of the complex, and the window faced the street. One would have to climb or fly up to reach it. This was not a normal visitor, and that fact made Yalen feel a little uneasy. He carefully slid out of bed and grabbed the candle on his desk. The candle wick was still hot to the touch. Yalen cupped it with his left hand and closed his eyes. Reaching out with his mind, he drew upon the candle’s radiant heat. There wasn’t much energy there, but it was enough.
All-knowing Shune, please grant me your flame. Yalen focused the heat he’d gathered around the tip of the candle. He concentrated it into a small, singular point until the candle wick came back to life. The room filled with faint orange candle light.
With light in hand, Yalen opened one of the desk’s drawers and took hold of his holy symbol, the icon of the setting sun. He wrapped the chain tightly around his left fist and brought it to his right hip for a brief second.
Surely it’s only a tree branch. Yalen thought this to himself before he limped towards the curtains and thrust them open.
There on the windowsill was a white faced rook, its shiny black feathers illuminated only by the distant flashes of lightning and the candle in Yalen’s hand. When it was clear that it had his attention, the carrion bird began squawking and scratching the window with its toes.
Yalen’s mouth opened in surprise.
“What in the world…?”
Before he could make the trip to the Forked Tower, Yalen had to make ready. He began by tightly wrapping a thin cloth over both of his ankles. He had already spent the whole day walking between classes, and his feet couldn’t take much more. Yalen donned his ecclesiastical vestments and retrieved his book bag and walking cane from where they lay.
When Yalen first stepped outside of his dorm room, he had to brace himself against a sudden gust. The wind was strong enough that at times, it seemed like the clouds were raining sideways. Despite covering nearly the entire sky, the overcast clouds could scarcely be seen this late at night. Thankfully, the lamp lighters had made their rounds before the storm hit, so Yalen could still navigate the city.
From underneath his armpit he pulled out a wide brimmed hat, which he secured tightly over his chin length blonde hair. Both the hat and his clerical attire were treated with a coating of boiled seed oils, making them a little more resistant to water than ordinary clothes. This was the extent to which he could prepare himself. Leaning heavily on his cane, Yalen proceeded to make the arduous trip to the Forked Tower.
After he managed to walk a fair distance, Yalen noticed something unusual in his surroundings. He thought he could hear something above the din of pouring rain.
Footsteps. Several of them. He sent out a mental probe, feeling for other sources of energy in the immediate area. It was a challenge to detect human body heat under the cover of the storm, but there were a lot of people running about Ersand’Enise, far more than what would be normal for this time of night. Yalen wondered if it was the city guards, or a noble’s private retinue. Did they have anything to do with the cryptic message he’d received?
The Forked Tower huh? The orchestrator of this plot has quite the sense of humor. In truth, Yalen worked out the first half of the riddle by accident. He had been at a loss for an answer until his eyes coincidentally fell upon his leftover dessert; before bed time, he’d been snacking on a scrumptious fruit tart.
Others may have received the note as well. But what was its purpose? No promise of a reward was made nor did he have an inkling of why he was chosen to begin with. Somehow Yalen just felt he had to go.
If I’ve made the wrong decision… Oraff preserve me.
Yalen was a bit slow to reach the Forked Tower. By the time he reached the lofty citadel, he could no longer feel the presence of other mages. It was like all the people he sensed before had disappeared without a trace. He stood at the entrance, his approach momentarily halted by indecision.
If I am to make a choice it has to be now. Will I be able to face whatever lays within the tower? Am I truly meant to be here? Yalen rested his weight on his walking cane. No matter how much he thought about it, the answer would not come from within. He needed guidance. Yalen placed his cane on the ground. With practiced hands he touched his shoulders, then his hips. Palms clasped in prayer, he completed the sign of the Pentad.
Lover, Learner, Creator, Destroyer, and Judge. Please listen to the pleas of your ignorant servant. Shune, I beseech thee, grant me the barest modicum of your insight. Dami, with all my humility, I ask you to show me the path of righteousness.Yalen stood firm, praying in complete silence with no regard for the wind or the rain. A stray leaf stuck to his cheek, carried by the gale. He ignored it. So deep in concentration was he that even the boom of thunder failed to register in his mind.
Something flew out of the darkness and landed on his shoulder. Yalen opened his eyes and looked over to see the rook that had visited him some time ago. The bird screeched at him and groomed his hair with its beak. Yalen smiled and reached up to tickle the corvid’s hairy feet.
“It’s you again. Has your master instructed you to guide me?” His avian companion made a clicking sound and took off into the tower. Yalen picked up his cane and followed, the doubts now cleared from his mind. As expected, nobody could be found loitering in the interior. He’d sensed dozens of people converging here and yet he saw no-one leave. To where could they have gone? Yalen did not stop to admire the tower’s construction. He had to find the bird. He lost sight of it, but it was certainly waiting for him somewhere above.
The note said to meet at floor twenty and a half. I’ll go to the twentieth floor and figure out what to do from there. Yalen mentally steeled himself. Ascending the Forked Tower was probably nothing to the mages who arrived before, but with Yalen’s tethered body it would be like crossing a river without a raft. He knew nothing of Kinesis, and his knowledge of Binding and Chemical magic was still in its infancy. Determined to see this through to the end, Yalen marched upwards.
By the time he reached the stairs between floor twenty and twenty one, Yalen’s arms and legs were burning. His weak lower body was a burden the whole way, and he had to support himself on his cane while gripping the brick wall most of the way up. He sat on the stone steps to let his muscles recover, paying no mind to the fact that his robe might get dirty.
Yalen heard something fall behind him and twisted himself around to see what it was. The light sources within the tower were sparse, but Yalen’s eyes had acclimated enough to the dark for him to spot the silver fork resting on the steps, which to him looked as if it materialized out of nothing. He got up in order to investigate. Many would have picked the fork up out of habit, but Yalen showed restraint. This whole incident began with a riddle, and for all he knew this puzzling silverware was part of yet another test.
Yalen peered around the stairwell space looking for further clues. In the direction the fork was pointing, something was off about the walls. The brickwork did not line up uniformly like it was supposed to. The moment his eyes lit up with recognition, the rook came out of hiding. It dropped a piece of paper next to the fork and departed just as quickly, its task now complete. Yalen stooped down to pick up the fork and the note, then hobbled over to the strangely asymmetric wall pattern.
I suppose this note is my hint. Let’s see it then. Yalen unfurled the sheet and read the contents aloud.
“Measure a brick with the instrument that you have on hand. You will find all uniform. Speak the perimeter and only the perimeter. If you speak other words, the door will close.” Between the words, a pattern matching the wall had been printed.
Yalen put his cane down and held the fork up to his face.
The instrument you have on hand... This fork? I suppose that’s correct. It’s the Forked Tower after all. The true riddle is what this fork represents. The note says to measure the brick, so am I supposed to use it like a ruler? Not having any other option, Yalen experimentally lined up the fork so one of its ends were perfectly aligned with the top brick. Using his other hand to keep track of his place, Yalen gradually scraped the fork across the wall until he was able to fully measure the long side. It was a nearly perfect match. Eight forks. This revelation made the gears turn in Yalen’s head. After measuring the rest of the bricks, he immediately sat on the floor and opened his book bag in order to retrieve a journal and a fountain pen.
Eight by three for a total of twenty two. But that shape! I have to think…! Yalen heatedly scribbled inside his journal. For some time, he simply drew and redrew the brick pattern, trying to make sense of its shape and the relation it had to the problem. He wasn’t bad at solving word problems, but it wasn’t a specialty of his either. It took several minutes of concentration and wasted ink before he stumbled upon something resembling an answer.
Sixty fi- no, sixty six! “It’s sixty-six!” Yalen realized that he had uttered the number out loud without stopping to review his work. He knew what the note said. He had only one chance to answer the riddle, and if what he just announced was wrong then that was it. His heart sank into his stomach as he stood up and waited for whatever came next.
But nothing came, no matter how patiently he stood by. Yalen brushed his fingers through the gap between the bricks, wondering where he had failed. Was his calculation wrong, or was he just too slow to get here? Yalen solemnly closed his eyes, head hung in defeat. He put away his writing tools and took up his cane in preparation for his departure.
I was just too weak to face this trial. It’s time to move on.Just as he reached the bottom of the twentieth staircase Yalen was overwhelmed by a feeling of vertigo, and in a split second he vanished.
The transition occurred so swiftly that Yalen had no time to perceive it. It was as if the spot where he once stood was merely a dream and he had just woken up. He twisted his head left and right, trying to grasp his current whereabouts.
The word ‘study’ barely described the place Yalen found himself. It was something much grander than that. The room was vast, and tall as well, almost impossibly so. If this was a part of the Forked Tower, its dimensions could only be realized with the application of powerful magic. There were tables full of maps, books, and equipment for experiments both magical and scientific. Stained glass windows filled the room with light, forcing Yalen to squint until his eyes could adjust.
How can it be light out when there is a storm outside? Am I perhaps no longer inside the Forked Tower? Yalen wrung his hands in confusion, feeling unsure of what to do with himself. Then he felt a hand squeeze his shoulder.
“You were late,” said an aged voice with a hint of dry amusement,
“but it seems you have… powerful friends.” The unseen figure regarded the youth’s robes for a moment. Yalen spun around in bewilderment. He hadn’t felt the presence of another person in the slightest!
“You’re-” Yalen’s breath stopped. No matter what country you hailed from, no matter how rural a town you lived in, if you called yourself a practitioner of magic you had to know the man standing before Yalen. It was no other than Hugo Hunghorasz. The paradigm. The mage among mages. The absurdity of this sudden meeting stalled Yalen’s reaction, but he had enough presence of mind to remove his hat and bow his head.
“Paradigm Hunghorasz! Please forgive me for not greeting you right away. You must understand my situation. How could I know that following those riddles would lead me to your eminence...”The ancient wizard cracked a slight grin.
“Eminence, hmm?” He stroked his beard for a moment.
“Now there’s one I still haven’t gotten completely used to.” He let out an easy chuckle.
“I’d ask who you are but, as you may have guessed, I already know.” He took a couple of steps, gesturing for the boy to follow.
“Come, have a seat. You’ve been… summoned I suppose you could say, for a reason, of course.” As he spoke, the table that Yalen had spotted in passing earlier seemed suddenly somehow closer, and there appeared to be people seated around it where there had been none before.
Yalen advanced towards the table as Hugo instructed. With so many other people in the room, he began to feel conscious of his condition. He quickly stashed his cane under his robe and tried to walk as straight as possible while taking his seat.
“Summoned? Dare I ask what for? Of all the students in Ersand’Enise the paradigm could call to arms, you could easily find someone worthier than myself…” Yalen’s eyes drifted to the table sheepishly.
The Paradigm waved a hand almost… dismissively.
“Worthy,” he harrumphed.
“Such a broad term. Good thaumaturges do not use broad terms, for a lack of precision in magic can be the last mistake of your life.” He twisted, with a hint of age’s tremulousness.
“Remember, you’re not only a priest now, boy.” Then, Hugo Hunghorasz sat himself at the head and settled his elbows on the oaken surface.
"All of you who remain here: Ysilla Al Nader, Zarina Al Nader, Ayla Arslan, Kaspar von Wentoft, and Jocasta Re, please meet Yalen Castel. He was... slightly tardy in his arrival but an important member of your team nonetheless.” Yalen listened as the paradigm described his offer to them. He needed the students to take on a mission. As Paradigm Hugo spoke, three identical folders floated down and opened before him and the other newcomers. Yalen scanned the document first with curiosity, then with disbelief.
Look at these people. They're tethered too, just like me. Yalen was momentarily overcome with pity. He was quiet as the paradigm continued his speech. Once the sage was finished speaking he paused and waved a hand and, just like that, a tear in the fabric of spacetime appeared beside him. Sounds, scents, and even sensations drifted through: the chirp of crickets in a vast, arid plain, the aroma of dust and cactus blooms, and a cool night breeze that stirred sparse tufts of grass and caused a tumble weed to drift lazily by.
"Thank you for your patience. It is no accident that you are the final group through. We were... waiting on one." He glanced at Yalen and smiled warmly.
"Now, you'll see that the scenario in question is within the High Desert of Torragon and involves a Tethered refuge. As you might imagine, this is a sensitive mission. That is why two of you whom I've called upon are Tethered yourselves, another is Torragonese, and our pair of Viragish are... an asset of a different sort. Your job is to stop the threat outlined in the folder and to do so while respecting the rights of those in the refuge if at all possible.”Yalen closed his folder and shook his head.
“You need not question my resolve. I would go alone if I had to!"
