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Chapter 2: The Tower II
🕑 Added 2024-07-22 09:05:30 +0000 UTCChapter 2: The Tower
II
Three days I spent travelling with the caravan. People would leave as they reached their farms and by the time I came near the coast it was only me and three other farmers with their horses and carts.
Throughout the journey I was treated well by the farmers and their families, who came with them to market. It was clear some of them were not confident I would be of any help in the case of a bandit attack but no one complained about giving me a bowl and letting me sleep under the wagons; overall they were good honest folk.
Their speech and mannerisms were slightly different than I remembered before I had my forced nap but that could be put down to regional variation. Each night I refreshed both my Sunscreen and Minor Finesse spells, thanks to the system I didn’t need as much mana to maintain the effects. Unfortunately the system granted spells weren't quite as good as the ones I had devised.
Sunscreen did stop me from flopping down on the floor, dead, but it was far from perfect. I got a nasty surprise one morning when I rolled out from under a wagon only to feel like I had been rolling around in pine needles, the sensation would persist as long as I was in direct sunlight.
Congratulations:
Sunscreen has reached Lv.2
Thankfully the uncomfortable feeling lessened when the spell levelled up.
When I added a third spell, using salt and mana-infused steel, I was left with only a trickle of mana to myself and it would take a week or more before Hal’s mana network might grow enough for me to be magically combat ready.
Congratulations:
You have learned the Preserve Meat spell.
With that spell in rotation I didn’t have to worry about my zombie flesh rotting off the bones.
There was one thing I felt slightly bad about, not being able to eat the farmers' food. It smelled delicious and clearly had love and attention worked into every bite but I was unliving in a zombie’s body and the internals didn’t work, so I was forced to secretly discard the grub each night.
The caravan only took me so far and I was forced to walk the last few miles to Urila on my own, to the great chagrin of the kind folk. I waved farewell and set off.
When I was about three miles off, based on the description the caravan gave me, the rain started. My journey thus far had fairly nice weather and this felt unseasonal.
On the plus side the constant itching I felt under the sun ceased as soon as the cloud covered me. The muddy trail grew ever more treacherous as the rain increased in strength the closer I came to the village. It was a strain on my new body.
I crested a hill in the trail and emerged from a patch of trees. When describing the route the old farmer had said that you could see the sea from here and I had been quite excited. I couldn’t see the ocean but there was plenty of water, sheets of it fell ahead creating a curtain that blocked off the great blue. Miffed, I continued on to the village.
The village was less of a village and more of a tribe, a dozen poorly made wattle and daub huts formed a ring on a hill that overlooked the sea. In the centre of the circle was one properly constructed structure; a town hall/pub by the look of it. It was three stories tall and made of solid stone. Unable to stand the chill any longer (not that it could actually hurt though it was uncomfortable) I pushed against the oak door. It opened with the sound of thunder, unrelated, and a room full of hardy if damp folk turned their attention from the great fire place and looked at me.
“Hello, good to see a fresh face.” A whistle toothed, bedraggled looking elderly man declared from the front of the pack. The hostile gazes of the village folk seemed to recede at the leader's warm welcome.
“I wanna know how the Chandrian were defeated.” Complained petulant child. Clearly his age forgave his impropriety as the community seemed to cheer at the kid’s outburst.
“Hush now, it’s not often we get guests, I’ll finish the story later.” The village chief chided gently.
“What can we do you for?” The elderly man asked, stepping forward. The other three dozen or so people taking shelter in the room devolved into their own conversations.
“I’m here about the quest you sent to the guild.” I said, taking off my robe and hanging it on a hook, leaving me in my relatively dry linens. The old man took my robe and rested it by the fire to dry. As he did so a couple of the nearest families started talking hurriedly in whispers and glancing at me.
One burly looking man stood in a corner of the room and stared at me with his arms crossed, huffing contemplatively.
“Excuse him,” The leader excused upon his return with a thick woollen blanket that I wrapped about myself to stave off the chill of death, “no one can work with this constant storm, we’re a fishing village and although the fish love rain the boats don’t. Simon over there tried to go out anyway and his boat filled up with water and sank.” I looked at the muscled man with concern, “Oh don’t worry, he’s half fish man, you couldn’t drown him if you tried.” I took a closer look at the man, his tanned muscles did indeed have a pearlescent gleam. I was overcome with an urge to dissect him and see if he had both gills and lungs or a separated system entirely. My gaze must have been too intense for the man as he looked away pretending he hadn’t just been eyeing the newcomer.
The old man, with his wild grey hair and platted woollen jumper, coughed to regain my attention.
“Awfully young to be an adventurer.” The village chief said, not unkindly. I reached over and turned my robe to show the badge. “Oh, I didn’t doubt it.” He said in response. He seemed to debate saying more before opting to stay quiet. He instead led me to a couple of chairs in the corner of the room so we might have some privacy, as I could already hear the gossip spreading through the crowd.
“I do apologise for that,” the old man said, referring to the tongue-wags, “With everyone out of work, what with this tower and all…”
“I understand,” I allowed, wanting to get right to business. “Speaking of the tower.” I prompted.
“Right so, what do you want to know?” He asked.
“Everything. When did it appear? What does it look like? Has this storm been here the whole time? When did you send those men to investigate?” I listed.
For a moment he appeared overcome by the incongruity of my age and business-like demeanour.
“Okay.” He began in a drawn out fashion as he thought on the matter. “The tower appeared about a month ago, during a fierce storm, and since the tower got here the storm hasn’t succeeded. It’s about a mile east, in the forest. We knew about it immediately because the huntsman lives out that way and rushed to report in the night, minutes after its appearance.”
“Is he here?” I cut in, intrigued.
“No, he keeps to himself, he’s stayed in his hut in the eastern forest.” Old man 3 replied, not offended by my interruption.
“Hmm, where was I? Ah yes, The tower is about six stories in height, made from a dark stone no one here can identify and with a blue tiled roof. Let me see, what else. Jack, Josh, and John, three of our strongest lads, left as soon as the village got word of the tower's arrival. They haven’t returned and it’s scared anyone else from going, that’s why we gathered what we could and sent word to the adventurer’s guild.” The rest of the information I got from the man wasn’t worth mentioning save that every seventh day the storm would ease up to a little rain but never stop.
I decided to go on the lighter day, three days hence. That was perfect for me as by then this body should have grown enough to use little magics, I had to try and find the ingredients for fire spells because the fire attributed ring this body used to use as a focus would make them more powerful - about 30% by my reckoning.
I was permitted to sleep in the town house for the next three days. I spent the time with the villagers. At meal times people would take turns to tell stories and the rest of the time people talked and played games. To my delight Hal’s dice were subtly weighted and I was able to turn my one silver into two before folk became suspicious.
The rest of the information I gained from the other villagers was less than useful, nothing more than exaggerated gossip: The Tower was a punishment from the god of storms as no one had died in the last great surge, There was an evil wizard that had come here to enslave the people, and my personal favourite that the fish had had enough, formed a society and began their attack. In that case the rain was supposed to stop them from suffocating.
I knew immediately something was different when I pretended to wake on the seventh day, sleep is something the living dead can never have. The constant sound of rain hammering on the shingles was far quieter. I looked out a window and could finally see the ocean through a light drizzle. A day before I had managed to convince the half fishman to bet an ice pike’s tooth he gained in a youthful adventure, with it I could cast some small fire spell.
I did, of course, have Magma Lob but that was too mana intensive for this body. I could probably use it in a pinch but I would be left with mana poisoning.
The villagers had warmed to me and were sad to see me go, the village chief even gave me a rusty spear that had been his grandfather’s in some long forgotten war. I bid them farewell, dressed in my finally dry clothes and headed east.
It was easy to make out the tower, even within the forest, now that the rain had let up. It was exactly as described. My curiosity pulled at me to head straight there but there was one place I had to go first.
I followed a path, little more than a washed out game trail, through the deciduous forest until I came to a small clearing. Within was an old log cabin, moss growing to fill any gaps. I trudged to the front door and was about to knock when it opened to show the door frame filled with an eight foot tall bear kin.
I was taken aback for a moment as the imposing figure stared down at me. He was dressed in a bearskin coat of all things and had a rope coiled around his body, a bow strapped to his back, and an axe as long as I was tall held in one giant paw.
“Beary the hunter?” I asked, redundantly. The villages hadn't told me his race, no doubt they were chuckling to themselves back in the hall.
The Bear kin growled out the side of his muzzle, as if annoyed that someone stood in his way, I stepped aside. He walked out into the rain, closing his door before answering.
“What do you want, pipsqueak?” He asked in an annoyed tone.
“I have some questions about the tower," I said, showing him my guild badge.
“What’s a scrawny thing like you supposed to do?” He replied derisively. “Besides I’ve had about enough of this infernal rain so you won’t have to worry about this quest for long.” he said, swinging his axe in a chopping motion towards the tower, about a half mile away. “A pup like you should head back to his mother.” He declared with a tone of finality before turning his back to me and lumbering off into the forest to put action to his words.
I was left stunned for a moment, no one had spoken to me like that in hundreds of years, not that it really bothered me. In fact it made me feel as youthful as my appearance would suggest.
“Wait.” I finally called after him, having to jog to match the beast kin's long loping strides. “I’m a Wizard.” I called, using the local term. At this Beary stopped and raised an eyebrow at me. I felt the discomforting tingle of someone trying to use Identify on me. The Bearman’s eyebrow rose further before he snorted and turned back to his march.
“If you were a Wizard at your age you’d be at Woden’s, everyone knows that, and you certainly wouldn’t have the Conceal skill. I know your type, you’re the sneaky sort and I don't want that at my back.” He ended, putting a paw subconsciously to a pouch at his waist.
“Some Wizards prefer adventure.” I answered without lying. To prove my case I shot a Necrotising Bolt at a nearby bush. Using it with the intended amount of mana only made the leaves shrivel and blacken rather than disintegrating it entirely. Beary looked at the dead bushes with wide eyes and turned to me all serious, “Promise me you will never do that again in this forest.” He said in a tone brooked no arguments. Shocked at the sudden tone I killed my excitement and bowed in apology. This seemed to satisfy the beastman and he returned to his resolute walk.
In an attempt to get to know my apparent fated ally better I asked a question as I ran alongside; “So why the sudden change of heart? You could have gone with the earlier party.”
“I told you, I had enough of the rain.” He replied evasively in a gruff voice, not meeting my eye.
“Wait,” As the image of his first appearance replayed in my mind. When he opened the door my attention had been stolen by the unexpected bear but my brain had noticed something in his house. “Your dog, I noticed a shaggy old girl wrapped in a blanket and sneezing. You're doing this because your dog is sick?!” I said as it hit me. He didn’t answer, only staring dead ahead, his eyes seemed damp even in the rain. I decided not to press the issue but I thought to myself that he was perhaps not as scary as he at first appeared.
At the pace Beary set it didn’t take long to reach the tower. The storm grew heavier and heavier as we came to it. Lighting struck a mental spike on its roof at regular intervals. I was thankful I came on a calm day as I didn’t think it would be possible to get to the tower otherwise. When we were within ten feet of the dark stonework all rain ceased, it was calm here at the heart of the storm.
We both took a moment to prepare ourselves. Before us stood a great oak door, slightly ajar. There was a streak of blood across its surface. We looked at one another, resolve hardened in Beary’s eyes and he pushed the door open.
