Lucas took the steps two at a time, cycling mana slowly through his pathways to offset the fatigue. He’d initially been leaping up three or four at once, but that had quickly proved untenable, even with mana augmenting his body.
The 224th floor had come and gone a while back, but that didn’t give much of an indication of how far they had to go. Apparently, the closer one got to the top, the taller the individual floors were. The fact there were 500 floors didn’t mean the 224th was just before the halfway point.
Valerie would tell him how many steps were left if he asked. She probably knew that kind of thing.
But he wasn’t in the mood to talk to her right now. His fests clenched at his sides, and he had to resist the urge to turn around and snap at the woman to leave him to do this on his own. She’d probably obey that, too. Unfortunately, he knew that would be a bad idea; no matter how displeased with her he was, the fact remained that she was the only trusted ally he had in this place. The only one who could bail him out if he happened to encounter something unexpected on his climb to the apex of the Moontower.
It didn’t help that Florence was only a few steps behind her, having watched their exchange downstairs with a look of utter bewilderment on her face for the duration. For whatever reason, she’d decided to follow after them. Luckily, she still seemed far more concerned for Valerie than him, though he couldn’t guess at what was actually going through her mind, then or now.
The temptation rose within him to tell her exactly who he was. It was a stupid thought, born of a childish desire to spite Valerie, and self-preservation ultimately won out. He hadn’t followed all the nuances of Valerie and Florence’s insane spar, but he understood that Valerie currently didn’t trust her to know his identity, and she surely had a reason for that.
Just like she had a reason to say nothing about Jamie, Lucas thought, scowling. His pace picked up as the fury surged through him once more, and he had to take deep breaths, forcing calm upon himself as he slowed himself to a more manageable gait once more.
He understood, logically, that she was under no obligation to volunteer information without prompting. Her goal was to keep him safe and secure until Claire returned to decide their next moves, and everything else was, at best, a secondary consideration. If a piece of knowledge might, in her mind, put him in danger, she wasn’t going to offer it.
Hell, he could even understand why she thought giving him this information in particular might be dangerous. She (correctly) assumed he’d want to go find his friend.
If that was the only reason, it might not have bothered him so much.
“I am not certain Lord James can be trusted at this juncture,” Valerie said reluctantly, gaze flicking between Lucas and Florence for a moment before locking onto him. She held up a hand to stall his outraged argument. “The rumours surrounding him do not paint an encouraging picture.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I would not feel comfortable approaching him on official business without Lady Claire present,” Valerie said.
Lucas blinked, baffled. “You can’t seriously think he’d attack us or something?”
“That’s not what I mean. By most accounts, Lord James refuses to fight.”
“Then why?”
“As I understand it, he is not particularly fond of the Order.” Valerie paused, grimacing. She looked more uncomfortable than he’d ever seen her. “Without Lady Claire there, we would likely have significant trouble convincing him to believe certain realities.”
Lucas briefly glanced at Florence, who was watching their exchange with both eyebrows raised. His fists clenched at his sides. “But you know where he is.”
“It’s generally understood he’s somewhere in the south of Mornlunn.”
“And do you have a more accurate location?”
There was another pause, the reluctance clear in Valerie’s face. Then she said, “I know how to find out.”
And so here they were, on an exhausting charge to the top of the tower. The grand staircase seemed to go on forever. It had been at least an hour since they’d started their climb, and there was no end in sight. A part of him was tempted to ask, but he kept his lips firmly sealed, grinding his teeth together instead.
Not a word had been exchanged between them since Lucas had stormed out of the door of their little training room, and he wasn’t going to break that silence now. He didn’t even want to look back, only knew they were there because of the clank, clank, clank of their boots on the steps behind him.
Now more than ever, he wished he had an easier way to get up these stupid, shitty stairs. None of the magics he’d learned so far were any help here. He’d have to find one. Maybe he’d pick up geomancy and turn the whole fucking thing into an escalator. Or perhaps there was some branch of magic or other that allowed teleportation. That was a nice idea. No climbing at all. No steps involved whatsoever.
The thought brought a smile to his face, which he quickly wiped away.
He didn’t know how long it took before the staircase started to open out, abruptly expanding until it was wide enough to fit twenty people across, and the steps themselves were polished to a sparkling sheen. Soon after, light burst into the widening space as the walls of the grand staircase abruptly vanished past a certain point, leaving only the staircase to climb several hundred metres through the shell of the tower’s very top, reaching up to a grand arched doorway that seemed to float in the air just below the tower’s roof. None of the outer walls of the tower had any windows, and, looking down, it appeared the staircase rose up from within a cloud that he certainly had no recollection of passing through. He didn’t even know where any of this light was coming from. It felt like they were outside.
It still took them a good five more minutes to reach the doorway, and only when he was before it did he realise it wasn’t really a door at all. There was nothing to push open, no lock or handle. It was just an empty black void, utterly colourless and reflecting nothing, seeming to drink in any hint of light. A solid, impenetrable wall of darkness.
“Here we are. This is Lady Claire’s personal office,” Valerie told him, voice strained.
“You won’t be able to enter,” Florence added with the vibe of someone who didn’t think they’d be listened to, and she was completely correct. He didn’t know why she bothered to keep telling him this.
He shook his head without looking back at them, and stepped up to the archway. Lifting his hand, he gently placed his fingers against the darkness. They sunk straight in like there was nothing there. There was no hint of hot or cold, and no physical resistance. There might as well have been nothing there.
There was no change as he sunk his arm in all the way up to the shoulder. A sharp inhale of breath behind him made him go still, looking down at himself to check for any injuries, but he saw nothing. Glancing back over his shoulder, he found both Florence and Valerie staring at him with wide eyes.
“How are you getting through Lady Claire’s wards?” Florence asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Lucas didn’t answer as he turned and stepped fully through the dark gateway. For a moment, he was surrounded by such true and complete darkness that it set his heart thundering, but it took only a second step to get out of it, light rushing back in, and then he was in Claire’s office. He stopped, blinking. Confusion flooded him as he looked around.
The office was supposed to take up the entirety of the top floor of the Moontower. Valerie had explained that it was called the ‘top floor’ but really was a tall enough space to encompass a dozen of the regular floors, like the one where Valerie’s quarters were located.
So it took him a bit off guard to find himself in a five-sided room that, while large in its own right, was only just about twenty-ish paces across at most in any direction, and was maybe twice the height of what he’d imagine a ‘regular’ room to be. Each of the five pale walls held several smaller archways like the one he’d just walked through, all equally dark, and the room itself was as bright as daylight without any obvious source for that light.
He looked back just in time to see Valerie and Florence follow him in. Valerie showed a neutral expression as was typical for her, but Florence was frowning deeply at him, brows furrowed. “How did you get through?” she asked again, sounding more accusatory now. “Only members of the Order should be able to pass Lady Claire’s wards. It should’ve been like touching a wall to you.”
Lucas shrugged, noting that she and Valerie neglected to mention that all the way up the stairs. If the barrier really had denied him entry, he would’ve been fuming. At least Valerie had reason to suspect they’d let him through anyway. “Maybe the wards counted me as a subordinate to Valerie or something,” he said, turning his attention back to the room ahead and striding to the centre, looking around.
None of the archways were labelled in any way. They were much smaller than the one he’d stepped through, which towered over him, rising until the tip of the arch was probably only an inch or two from the ceiling. These were more in line with regular doors. Twenty of them in total.
“Any idea where these lead?” he asked without looking back.
Valerie stepped up to his side. “Offices, workshops, vaults, personal quarters,” she said, pointing to each wall one after the other as she listed off their purposes. “I don’t know the full layout of the place, but it’s not meant to be complicated. Lady Claire deemed the wards enough of a defence against intruders, in the unlikely event any hostile entity made it up here, so she felt no need to make it confusing for herself.”
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“So, they’re, what? Pocket dimensions, or something?”
“No, they exist in real space. These doors are portals linking this room to others in Lady Claire’s quarters, partially for convenience, but primarily for the aforementioned security.”
Lucas looked at her askance. “You have portal magic.”
“Their utility is much more limited than you might be thinking, even without taking into account the Blight’s corrupting effects on long distance magic,” Valerie said.
“Not many people apart from Lady Claire who can do this with them, for one thing,” Florence said from behind them, still by the entrance. “They’re notoriously unstable, and a constant strain on the caster’s mana. Further apart the portals are, the worse it gets. And there were rumours they could be compromised, if someone got between them.”
“Thus Lady Claire has deemed it a magic that shouldn’t be widespread,” Valerie added.
“There are lots of those.”
Valerie glanced back at Florence, one eyebrow fractionally raised.
Lucas didn’t bother to look back at her, still studying the archways, but Florence’s voice sounded somewhat sheepish as she spoke, “I’m not questioning her edicts. Merely pointing out that there are many disciplines of magic that are too dangerous to be left to proliferate. It makes one wonder why Lady Claire tolerates the College.”
No one had anything to say to that. Lucas turned to the left, heading towards the archways Valerie had labelled as Claire’s offices. He decided to take the one furthers on the left, practically right next to the entrance archway. Florence was frowning at him again when he passed her, but she said nothing as he strode through the barrier once more.
The new room he found himself in was another pentagon, the same size and layout as the last, except four of the walls were lined with bookshelves. The centre of the room was dominated by a giant oaken table, also stacked with books. More scrolls, books, and loose pieces of parchment and paper covered most of the floor. It was an absolute mess. Calling this place an office seemed suddenly inaccurate.
Lucas frowned, feeling out of place. If there was one thing he could say about Claire, it was that she was obsessive with keeping her spaces clean. Whether it was the bedroom in her childhood home where everything was neat and tidy and packed away in its proper place, or the side of the flat she’d shared with Aarya during uni where the kitchen had to be sparkling at all times and not a mote of dust was allowed, or even in her job at the library where every book had to be neatly stacked, she demanded order.
This was the first tangible, undeniable sign that at least one thing about her had changed. The Claire he knew would’ve thrown a fit at the state of these books. Even the shelves themselves looked ratty, haphazard, and books were one of the primary things she obsessed about keeping uncluttered.
There was a sinking feeling in Lucas’ gut. He’d frozen by the entrance upon seeing the state of the office, and he forced himself to move forward, angling for the table. With so many books and bits of paper strewn about, he was forced to pick a winding path, not wanting to step on anything—even if it seemed like Claire didn’t actually care about any of this stuff. That had to be it. This place was just tertiary to her objectives, and it must have fallen by the wayside as she got distracted with all her responsibilities.
He spent a good while exploring, but there wasn’t much of use to him. Oh, there was plenty of interesting stuff. Half of the books seemed to be magical tomes of some description, and the translation magic that came with the Great Star translated text just as easily as speech. Part of him urged to read them, but that wasn’t what he was here for.
The rest were mostly dry texts about various subjects. Admin crap. The work of a leader, and important in its own way, but again irrelevant right now.
Most interesting was the large map that covered most of the table, partially hidden beneath books. It was a map of much of the country of Aeyem, where he recalled Claire’s current mission was located, deep in the Blighted Lands. There were a bunch of scrawlings in painfully familiar handwriting, though he couldn’t make sense of it, since it was all apparently in some kind of shorthand. The map itself wasn’t labelled. It was more of a piece of art than an actual map, and Lucas wondered why she’d used this for whatever she was doing rather than a proper one.
A pang of longing took him off guard, and he found his eyes stinging as his gaze roved over words written by his friend’s very hand. He wanted to see her, even if she was a hundred years older and practically a stranger. He wanted to see all of them, Rian, and Aarya, and Jamie.
But there was only one he had any decent chance of actually meeting right now.
Valerie and Florence were waiting by the entrance when he was done, watching him with a neutral gaze and incredulity respectively. Florence spoke as he finished his inspection and approached them, “The audacity to snoop around Lady Claire’s office like this right in front of two members of the Order. I don’t even know what to say.”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind,” Lucas muttered.
“She absolutely would,” Florence said.
Valerie nodded in agreement, face still unreadable, but said nothing.
“Are the other offices like this one?” Lucas asked.
“Not all of them,” Valerie said. “This is a personal study. She doesn’t often invite anyone in here. From what she’s told me, it’s where she comes when she wants to think.”
Lucas frowned at that. This didn’t seem like the type of place that would be relaxing for her, looking at it. Had she really changed that much, or was she lying to Valerie? He preferred the latter, but a bad feeling told him it was more likely the former.
The next room was again the same size, but much more presentable. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a stunning view that seemed to stretch on forever to the far south—though the rumour Valerie had told him about seeing to the end of the continent proved unfounded, it did let him see far beyond the bounds of the city, to the mountains and endless fields and whatever else lay beyond. The room itself was decorated with lush carpets on the floor and tapestries on the walls, with only one left bear, holding three more archways instead. Again, a large table dominated the floor space—even bigger than the last room—though there was no clutter covering this one. It was surrounded instead by tall-backed wooden chairs, a dozen in total.
“This is where Lady Claire typically meets people,” Valerie explained. “It’s generally known as the planning room.”
There was nothing much to see there, so he moved on to the next—the three extra archways apparently just led to the other office rooms. The messy first room was the only one with a single doorway.
The next few rooms told similar stories, though their layout was obviously different. There was a room with an absolutely enormous black stone table that was apparently a map of the whole world that could zoom in and out with incredibly accuracy, but they couldn’t activate it without Claire here, so it was just a black stone table to them. After that came a room filled witha few dozen padded chairs, all facing a pane of black glass that covered the entirety of one of the walls where Claire projected briefings with lumomancy for her subordinates.
The last ‘office’ was similar to the first, except thrice as large, and much, much neater. Shelves stacked with books in an orderly fashion, nothing left on the floor, and the table spotless. Apparently Claire didn’t use it much, and the books themselves weren’t of much use right now at all. He barely glanced at them before moving on.
Lucas barely spent any time in the workshops, not daring to disturb any of the magical projects Claire had under way. He couldn’t even make sense of most of them. The rooms didn’t show as much variety in space or layout as the offices, but they made up for that in their contents.
For the most part, they were all filled with workbenches lining the walls, with a pentagonal table in the middle. All were covered in glyphs and runes and scripts and various magicy things, along with beakers filled with strange liquids and gases, metals that felt wrong to look at, and materials that moved in ways they shouldn’t.
The only thing that made any sense to him was the small plant sitting at the back of one workshop, its oddly straight leaves a bright red, looking like ribbons waving in an unseen wind. He had to resist the urge to go and approach it.
The vaults were closed even to him, which he actually hadn’t been expecting. Getting into Claire’s quarters in the first place had led him to assume she’d worked out some way to key him into her wards long ago, and he’d have free rein of the place. Apparently she’d been more strict than that, which he should’ve expected, really.
It was a bit frustrating. Valerie had told him that Claire’s vaults held the rarest and most powerful weapons in all the world, and she wanted him to bond with the best the Moontower had to offer. If they had to wait for Claire for him to bond with anything… Well, that was probably going to be untenable.
Claire’s personal quarters let him in, though. Only him. It only occurred to him halfway through exploring the room behind the leftmost archway—a cosy sitting room consisting of only one luxurious sofa that sat before a fire that never seemed to go out and burned just hot enough to be comfortable when you sat on the sofa—that his companions hadn’t followed him in. He returned outside to find twin looks of disbelief. Neither of them had thought he’d be able to enter these rooms.
It probably didn’t help out his case with Florence very much, but he found he didn’t care. He had bigger things to worry about than whatever she thought of him. If she figured him out, fuck it. They’d deal with that when they got to it. She seemed a good sort, anyway. She probably wouldn’t do anything bad with that information. Hopefully.
He spent little time in Claire’s bedroom beyond observing the four-poster bed for a moment and noting it was the neatest room he’d seen so far. The bathroom had little of interest, either, apart from being far more ornate and modern than what he was used to seeing in this world. Her personal practice room wasn’t so different from the training rooms he’d been using, and he quickly moved on once more.
The last room he entered was, ironically, the one he was looking for. To be fair, he’d expected it. When Valerie had told him that Claire had a way to track down Jamie, he’d gone straight up here, working under the assumption that she’d keep whatever magical means she had for tracking her friends safe.
Lucas found himself in what he could only describe as a shrine. Each of the four walls were dedicated to the other five Great Heroes, with life-sized paintings hanging in pride of place to denote each section.
On the left was Rian’s. A handsome face stared out, his hair cropped close to his head. A dashing smile in a chiselled jaw. Eyes sparkling with mirth. Flanking his painting were various swords in a wide variety of states. Blades of every colour and quality, some pristine and others so damaged they’d probably shatter against a stiff breeze. Below the painting were various writings and sketches, pinned to the wall, all clearly Rian’s handiwork. A metre from the wall stood an white marble plinth with an empty half-sphere depression on the top.
Next to his was Aarya’s, and Lucas’ heart clenched. It looked like a memorial, and he couldn’t bring himself to stare at it for long. He saw flowers and dozens of smaller paintings of Aarya before he forced himself to look away. A leather-bound book sat atop her plinth, but he dared not go near it.
His own wall came next, and his was practically a conspiracy theorist board, utterly covered in drawings and writings to the point they were straying over the edges of his painting—which he thought was a bit of an idealised rendering of him. Some had even fallen to the floor, forming a little pile that tumbled almost to his plinth. Stepping closer, he could see that they were full of speculations regarding what had happened to him. One caught his eye, big red letters on a piece of paper about A3 size which read: “MERIHEM.” Underlined thrice. They looked hastily scrawled, the paper slightly torn from the zeal of the quill strokes.
Jamie’s was last. He barely spent a moment registering the long ginger hair or the fierce eyes of a man who’d do anything to defend his friends.
Instead, Lucas’ gaze fell on the little wooden box that sat upon Jamie’s plinth. Moving like gravity was pulling towards it, he rushed to snatch it up. It snapped open at his touch like a pocket watch, revealing a compass that looked like it was made of mist, partially see through. It was a ghostly silver, fading whenever he moved. But when he went still, it got more substantial, and eventually, a red arrow started to solidify. He turned and turned until the red arrow was facing directly ahead of him.
And he knew where he had to go.
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