Chapter IV - Into the Hills

Suddenly Drace's face appears in front of him. "Drace, this is a trap", he starts, but registering Drace's voice, he continues "What? Breathe? Yes... Breathe..." He starts breathing between the words and the fog before his eyes clears a bit. He can still hear his blood pounding, but he starts to focus. "Drace, this is a trap. We have to get out, or we'll look like him soon." Draern thumbs over towards where he believes the stairs and thus Mr. Vackle to be. "Don't you see? This Omirius character is trying to lure us in with his fancy books and all and we will die here and walk around as his servants after that. Don't you see?" His eyes are wide, it's unclear whether that is still from the slowly fading panic attack or from paranoid fear. He puts his hands on the upper arms of Drace, just below his shoulders and looks him in the eyes intensely "Get Cithrel, we have to get out before it's too late. I can keep Omirius at bay."

Omirius fidgets while speaking with Cithrel.

"Well, yes, of course, but it would be such an awful shame for you to have to leave so suddenly. I daresay that we could fascinate each other for quite some time. Why it was back in the Vothite Empire, prior to the rise of the Republic, that I ran afoul of the Sorcerer Queen-Voth herself and it was only by fate or luck that I was able to stumble upon this tower to escape her wrath and [blah blah blah]..."

Cithrel's attention is derailed to the point where she loses track of what the Omirius is saying. Did the man say Vothite Empire? Which existed 2000 years ago?

Cithrel's attention snaps back when it becomes clear that Omirius is directly addressing them. "But you say that you can control the time and direction of the tower? Might we not find some suitable, mutually-agreeable compromise, at least for a short while?"

It is then that Omirius detects Draern's unease.

"Is your traveling companion quite alright?"

You continue to hear Mr. Vackle slowly clanging up the steps in the distance.

"Hmm?" Cithrel turns to look at Draern and Drace. The two men were facing each other. The woodsman seems agitated and the healer to be trying to calm him down. "It doesn't look like he is." Cithrel turns back to face their host. "This strange tower must be a lot for him to take him. I believe he is used to more natural surroundings. It..." Cithrel sighs, their disappointment palpable. "It may be best if we depart ahead of schedule."

An idea occurs to the elven scholar and they perk back up. "Perhaps you'd enjoy some fresh air? We could continue our conversation outside," they suggest hopefully.

Omirius shrugs.

"Outside? Certainly, why not? Yes, a most diverting idea. I have not been outside in quite some time. Years, perhaps." It's unclear if he means 'years' by his calendar or by yours.

He gestures for Cithrel to lead the way. Down down down the long set of stairs. Far below, you hear Mr. Vackle clanking up in your direction.

The stairs have no guardrail to protect you from falling to the floor below. The thought occurs to you that Omirius could push you off the stairs to your doom. Conversely, you could push him off, where presumably he would fall to the marble floor far below and explode like a burlap sack full of tomato soup.

Halfway down, you pass Mr. Vackle. He is carrying a silver tray that has several crystal goblets on it. The goblets are full of water, but not exactly clean water. There are floaty bits in the water, possibly algae.

"Ah, the refreshments you requested!" Omirius declares proudly. "It seems that Mr. Vackle has gone to the local stream on your behalf. Thank you, Mr. Vackle!"

Omirius grabs the goblets and holds them out to you, smiling.

Cithrel takes the goblets and gives the water a dubious look. They reach into their healer's pouch and pull out an anti-parasitic herb mix: ginger, wormwood, and curled mint. "I hope you won't be offended, but I suspect parasites and disease are not concerns for the two of you. For us, however, precautions are only wise." They sprinkle the ground-up herbs into the glasses and swirl the water to get them to mix into the river water. They take another look and, satisfied, pass two goblets to Drace and Draern.

Cithrel smiles at Omirius and Mr. Vackle and liftes their glass. "Thank you for your kindness and generosity. You have been a most gracious host," they say, before taking the glass to their lips and taking a large draught of the liquid within.

Cithrel gestures to the stairs. "Shall we resume our descent?"

Drace watches Cithrel's ministrations with a keen eye. It was for the best that they had intervened - he had intended to summarily reject the river water, but this was more tactful. He waits until Cithrel drinks before bringing the cup to his lips. While he wasn't thirsty, he was curious as to the taste of the mix at the selected dosage.

He continues the descent, focused on getting Draern outside.

The doctored water tastes foul. There's a chemical taste that's deeply unpleasant. Anyone who drinks it will wish for something to wash the taste away. Only the most desperately thirsty would consider this an acceptable form of hydration.

You continue down down down the stairs. While gravity does most of the work, making it much easier on your muscles, it is decidedly harder on your joints. The shock of each step on hard stone tests the soles of your boots and rattles your knees.

At last you are back at the bottom. The front doors are open and the night outside is much as you left it.

"Ah, my boys!" Omirius says, greeting the door guards warmly. "How do you do? Are you well? It has been too long; I apologize. I promise to visit more frequently."

The skeletons don't respond, at least not verbally. It seems like an absurd conversation but Omirius looks completely sincere.

Then he steps outside and looks around. "Ah, a forest!" he declares. He looks up at the moon and inhales the night air. "Lovely. Very lovely."

He looks at Cithrel, pleased. "Yes, a most diverting idea."

Cithrel grimaces as they taste their concoction. They take a deep breath to steady themselves, then down the whole glass in one go, struggling through the taste. The climb, conversation, and descent had left them parched. As they resume the walk down, they fetch a piece of dried meat from their bag. They chew it until they reach the bottom of the stairs, using it to thoroughly scrub the inside of their mouth of their miserable creation.

The air outside is pure and crisp. Cithrel takes a few slow breath in through their nose, exhaling through their mouth. They turn to Omirius and smile. "Yes. It is a most beautiful night."

"Before we made our way down, you mentioned possibly finding a compromise so that we may enjoy each other's company a while longer. Did you have something specific in mind? If not, I would propose trying to pause the translocation cycle until we decide to go our separate ways. We could then restart it."

The water is ghastly.  Curiosity slaked and having no thirst to speak of, Drace places the mostly full cup back on the tray with a polite nod to Mr. Vackle. Once the exit is in sight, the Healer allows himself a sigh of relief. Draern's mounting anxiety had brought back memories of his childhood training.

Hours spent in increasingly confined spaces being evaluated on how long they could stand the isolation, the constriction, and the variety of physical and psychological stressors; and how well they were able to fulfill the exercise's objectives despite numbness and disorientation.  It was how he learned that when nauseated, you could minimise undue attention by focusing on directing the vomitus in a controlled manner rather than fighting the inevitable.

The tongue withering water also reminded him of his training; so many tinctures tasted so bad as to raise doubt as to their curative properties. With a rueful smile at the memories of his days as a novice, Drace stays in step with Draern until they are both a few paces away from the tower.

"We are outside and unharmed; your diligence is appreciated.  What from your experience indicated the need for caution?" Drace hopes that framing the question in terms of Draerngromlaes' past will further help to ground him, while accepting that there is no way to anticipate how he will react.

Omirius raises his hand to his chin as he contemplates Cithrel's suggestion.

"I was thinking that the translocation cycle might be made less random and more deliberate," he says, for once seeming to have hear Cithrel the first time. "That our forward progress might be maintained but at different intervals. One day at a time, perhaps, to synchronize with the outside world. But, while doing so, to be more intentional about our destinations. I may search for those who might accept me for what I am, while you conduct your explorations of the wider world.

"And, once our time together is complete, perhaps I will have learned how to manipulate the tower for myself, at which point I may race forward to meet future generations."

Cithrel's smile grows broader at the thought of exploring the world in a magical teleporting tower. What wonders might they find, not limited by the distance their feet can take them in a day!

Or you could find yourself in the middle of a volcano. You should focus on your chosen task, not be distracted by each new shiny mystery.

Cithrel's smile falters. They spend a moment considering, before nodding to themselves. This was a unique opportunity, one they may not get again for millennia. It could not be ignored. They turn to face Omirius. "Let's try then. We can decide our next steps once we know how much control we're able to grasp." They look away, embarrassed. "The theory is clear to me, but putting it into practice is another matter."

Even with his focus squarely on Draern, Drace picks up the words "Let's try" and he concludes that Cithrel has finally managed to talk Omirius into working on the tower. "Cithrel." he calls to the scholar, his tone somehow flatter than usual.  


"When comes the time to test your work, I want to discuss safety and contingency beforehand."  He wants to express how excited he is for his companion to be pushing the bounds of learning, to be grappling with great magics without fear, but pragmatism and risk management must come first. "If Draern does not require monitoring or support, and there is a manner that is within my means, I would be of assistance," he adds.

Cithrel frowns, unsure of what contingencies or safety measures could be put in place. The theory was clear enough in their mind. Perhaps Drace could forcibly interrupt them if the spell escaped their control. They look up at the moon, gauging how much night is left. "Time is running short. If you wish to discuss the process, we have no time to waste."

The elf focuses on Draern. "Are you alright? You can stay out here, if you'd rather, while we conduct our..." Cithrel searches for a word that wouldn't exacerbate the woodsman's anxiety... "adjustment to the Temporal Displacement and Translocation Matrix," they finish, opting to bury Draern's concerns under hexobabble precise technical language. "Either way, we should get started."

Cithrel waits for Draern's answer, then looks at Drace and Omirius in turn before tilting their head towards the tower. They smile in anticipation. "Let's get to work."

The decent from the top of the tower cannot go fast enough. Held up by Mr. Vackles return with the water again delays the progress, so Draern empties whatever is handed to him, without much though, just to have the party proceed. When Cithrel starts mixing something into the cups with scientific care and the slowness that comes with it, Draern grows more and more anxious. What if we're too late and don't exit before the tower dislocates? We'll be stuck in here for a month. Without food, water and light. It's a deathtrap!
Finally the decent continues and when they reach the end of the stairs, Draern short of leaps out of the main doors past the guards, Wolf and Rima follow. The wolf, feeling Draerns anxiety, comes to him, and tries to sooth him, by touching his hand with her muzzle.
Taking deep breaths, Draern slowly calms down. The air is filled with an intense earthy smell and a gentle breeze plays through his hair. It blows away the lingering stuffiness of the library.

When asked whether he cares to return into the tower, he declines with a flicker of panic in his eyes. "No, we prefer to stay outside. I'll try to find us a dinner, or breakfast. Just make sure you get out of that," he looks sceptically at the tower, searching for a fitting word, but coming short continues "thing on time."

Cithrel smiles in anticipation but then remembers that they have to climb all those steps back to the top of the tower.

Huffing and puffing, quads screaming, the elf eventually staggers back into the library at the top of the steps. Omirius, for his part, doesn't move quickly but never seems to tire. He advances slowly and steadily, like the passage of time.

Back in the library - and now thirsty again - Cithrel scans the bookshelves for relevant titles. Omirius clears off the desk so that there is a wide, flat area to spread out books and materials. Cithrel finds five or six books that all seem to describe the theory that's so clear in her head. It's nice to have outside reinforcement to the proper sequence of things.

In the end, it's easy. There are subtle workings around the tower that Cithrel has no trouble identifying with the help of the books. A slightly-raised stone in the wall here, a subtle metal plate over there, a loose piece of rock that's actually a switch, and so on. With a clean piece of parchment and a quill, Cithrel has little trouble mapping out the manipulations needed in order to alter the tower's magical field. They feel, with confidence, that they may adjust the temporal and terrestrial relocations. The only requirement is that the tower must go through one 'cycle' daily. The cycle does not have to physically relocate the tower, but the tower must advance at least one day each time. In other words, time may not be stopped within the tower, nor reversed, nor may more time pass inside the tower than outside, but beyond those limitations the power of the tower seems very great indeed.

There are spells and incantations required. Cithrel does not have the magical firepower to fuel these on their own, but Omirius does. In time Cithrel may grow in power to the point where the elf could make these alterations on their own, but for now they need to rely on the more-experienced Omirius.

Cithrel walks Omirius and Drace through the process of altering the enchantment on the tower. They get a little too into explaining the reasons behind the need for the cycle as a sort of reset mechanism for the hex, but a stern look from Drace gets them back on track. "So, we can dispense with the relocation, or rather, switch the random pattern to a steady one, then add this location as the next location for the foreseeable future. Then, we can reduce the cycle to as few as a few seconds, rather than a month. It would be easier to synchronize the dislocation with the movement of astral bodies, but we can go for, let's say, the sunrise for both 'ends' of the cycle. From just before to just after."

The young elf smiles at the others. "Thank you for helping me with this. I wish I had the capacity to channel arcane energies in sufficient amounts myself, but I unfortunately opted for a mixed training this time around. My physical talents are drawing too much mana inwards."

<<Dawn - Day 20 - Early Spring - The Moonlit Tower - Wilderness>>

Cithrel is confident in their calculations, and Omirius seems to have executed them correctly. The process had taken a couple hours, but Cithrel believes that could be brought down to minutes with experience.

While checking and double-checking and triple-checking the calculations, Cithrel uncovers other possibilities hinted at in the library's books. Namely, the tower seems to be modular, adaptable. Rooms may be created or removed, the empty space around which the stone stairs turn could be occupied by something instead of nothing. In fact, Cithrel believes that a magical platform may be possible, one that would raise or lower those willing to stand on steps of air. This platform could levitate those from the bottom of the tower to the top, or allow those at the top to descend slowly without the use of the stairs.

These things would take patience and time, and potentially outside materials to unlock the tower's capabilities, but they are an intriguing possibility.

After a night of rapturous work, dawn is on the horizon.

"It is time," Omirius says.

Draern watches outside from a safe distance, having being reassured that the tower won't be going anywhere. Or, rather, that something will happen but it won't relocate.

The skeleton guards step back inside. The front doors slam shut forcefully of their own volition, untouched by anyone. The glow a light purple color. Inside, there's almost no sense of change. Perhaps a slight vibration, a magical buzzing that's perhaps perceptible to those so attuned, but the process is subtle, akin to a fat bumblebee flying around the room.

Then, from Draern's perspective, the tower begins to fade. It is a indefinite effect at first, but then there are vertical streaks of light visible through it, like the tower is catching moonbeams. It seems to sparkle a bit, like stars flickering on and off, and then it's gone.

One or two heartbeats later, the process reverses. Vertical shafts of light appear, although this time they look more like sunbeams than moonbeams. Sparkles again, but fewer as the brighter sunlight makes them harder to see. The stones of the tower solidify, resuming their previous weight and shape, apparently unmoved. The process complete, the purple light around the doors fades, the doors reopen and the skeletons step back out.

Inside, the quite hum fades into the background, so subtle that you could reasonable doubt that it was ever there.

"It is complete," Omirius announces.

"We did it!" Cithrel yells excitedly, before giving Omirius a hug. They pull away quickly and a bit awkwardly. "Sorry, got a bit carried away... Let's make our way down and have a look! It must have been a while since you've seen a sunrise."

As they make their way down the stairs, again, Cithrel tells Omirius and Drace about what they discovered about the tower's capacity for internal rearrangements. The explanation is delivered in short bursts between winded breaths, the back and forth up and down the stairs having taken its toll, but not so much as to dissuade the elf from indulging in their logorrhea.

As they reach the bottom, Cithrel concludes with: "So... we could... make some bedrooms... some labs... and have this place... be a proper base... of operations... while we explore... the surroundings... if you're willing... of course... Omirius..."

They fold forward, struggling to catch their breath. "Maybe start... with the lift... platform?" they say with a grin.

"Windows first," Drace says without looking toward Draern.  The Healer is not yet convinced that the tower should be their base of operations for any period of time, but if it was to fulfil that function, it could not be the claustrophobic and tactical nightmare that it currently was.

With awe Draern witnesses the towers dis- and reappearance. Shuddering, he comments to Rima "Thank god we're not in there, right old girl?" He looks up at the sky that it slowly turning orange and then returns his gaze at the small fire cackling in front of him. Two small rabbits are roasting on sticks, almost ready to be eaten. Rima chews on the third bunny, not heeding the tower much attention.