The Chanti tower rose from the moorlands like a knife of cut obsidian - midnight black against a black sky, it was more visible by how it blocked stars and distorted the mists around it than anything else. There were no windows and no lights cast by human means - instead, there was only the faint glimmering witchfire of long decaying magic, sputtering around the outer skin of the tower. It was like the illustrations of the Southern Lights or the backglow after a poorly cast cantrip.
Sari tried to keep the excited quaver from her voice as she reigned in the steady bay mare that her master had given her. "Is that it, Master Phenrig?"
Her master, who rode on his own bound nightmare, snorted quietly. "What is the first lesson, apprentice?" His eyes were piercing blue in normal light, but seemed to glow like coals under the starlight. Sari felt a red flush grow on her face as she shifted in her saddle.
"Don't ask questions. Find answers." She shook her head. "Uh...it looks like Chanti construction. The witchfire has to be from either recent incantations, cast poorly...or...or..."
Phenrig let her fumble for a moment before dropping his own: "Or?" into the conversation like a rock down a well, clattering and thumping and splashing in the pit of Sari's stomach. She gulped and ducked her head forward.
"...or old magic that are dying." She flicked her tongue along her lips, nervously. The moorlands were mostly abandoned and uncultivated, ever since the war between the Silver Princes had destroyed the dykes and windmills that kept the salt water of the Moonsea from creeping into the lowlands. They were boggy and marshy now. But just because they were unpeopled didn't mean that they were less dangerous - without humans, dwarves, elves and orcs to keep the wild things at bay, the moorelands were now rife with monsters that most people only wished to hear about as traveler tails. Rumors abounded of knockers and stranglers and giant spiders...
Sari started as Master Phenrig lifted his hand. His fingers spread and the pale purple-white light of his magic glittered to life. For a second, she could see the geometric shape of the incantation - visible in the gleaming moment between invocation and casting. But then the magic was gone, swept away by his talent, and all that was left was a shimmering orb of pale white light that itself faded into sparkles.
"Two seconds," he said, softly. "Which means..."
"We're on a dragon line," Sari said, nodding. She thought she had felt the tingle of it on her skin, pricking and prickling like the moment before a lightning strike. She hadn't mentioned it, afraid that her master would chide her for starts. "It's definitely the Tower of Moloch Bar, master."
"Oh?" his voice was dry enough that she didn't even need to see his arched eyebrow - the spell he had weaved had killed her night-vision for the moment.
"The moorlands have two dragon lines through it," Sari said, gulping. "T-The, uh, the first intersection is where the town of Faenberg was built, the chapel of the Ninth Dragon is there, tapping the same line. But the other nexus is where the Moloch Bar built his tower, in the age of the Chanti Empire. E-ergo...uh...the tower. That's it. That tower. That is. Right there." She shut up under the impassive gaze of Master Phenrig.
"Correct," he said and Sari almost embarrassed herself further by letting out an audible, explosive sigh of relief. "Within that tower is an artifact I wish. This is your final test before you will go out as my agent in the world beyond our tower. Apprentice Sari, you will acquire that artifact and you will return before the dawn comes and the tower's entrances close."
Sari nodded, her knees tightening faintly on the mare - who whickered and tossed hers head restively. Her hoof rasping on the soft ground felt like nails on chalkboard.
"I won't fail you, master," Sari said.
Phenrig offered not a single word of comfort. Instead, he simply nodded, then gestured with one arm forward, into the darkness. Sari squared her shoulders, then let out a soft 'hyup!' and kneed her mare into moving forward. The horse's gait was slow and cautious - clearly not enjoying the idea of moving at any speed at night. Mist roiled around her long, thin legs, and the thumping of her hooves against the ground made Sari's shoulder and back tighten. She kept her own senses peeled for any of the monsters that were out in the moorland - and started at every shadow as they came closer and closer to the Chanti tower.
The tower itself rose from a rocky outcropping which itself was surrounded by a copse of trees grown sickly and weird over the years, likely leaching magic from the soil and into their very branches. Sari swung herself from her mare, whispering a soft word to her. "Don't worry," she said. "I'll be back..." She glanced around, made sure that there was plenty of grass for her mare to chew on, then tied her line to the least odd of the trees - but not before she shook it by pressing her booted sole to it and pressing. When the tree didn't burst to life and attack her, she nodded and then began to start into the copse of trees.
Her boots crunched on fallen leaves and she brushed aside hanging fronds as Sari considered risking a quick incantation. Phenrig did not forbid her, precisely, from casting spells...but...he preferred it when she did it with her supervision. Magic was dangerous to the untrained and unwary and, to be honest, the unlucky. But she didn't relish stumbling any deeper in away from the starlight...so...she held her fingers up, pressing the pointer and middle finger to the air before her temple, like she was touching the invisible visor of an armored helmet.
Magic jolted through her and washed through her vision - and when it was gone, the world was recast into brilliant blues, whites and somber purples that transformed darkness into a surreal daylight. The trees were bright blue, while her own hand glowed with a pale white-red illumination, as if she could see the very heat from her body - fingertips growing noticeably dimmer, back being darker than palm, and the light of her skin becoming obscured by her jerkin and leggings. Sari grinned to herself, then moved forward with more confidence.
The first difficulty was the rocky base of the tower. The earth looked as if the tower had thrust up from the ground, stabbing out of the world and leaving behind molten outcroppings that had then cooled to jagged petals. With her Sight on, she could find the handholds that were safe enough to grip and pull herself up, scrambling from jutting petal to petal with a soft grunt and wheeze. A great deal of her training had been in upper body strength - a vital step in the arts of magic that Phenrig had taught her.
It hadn't been much of a sacrifice. It wasn't like there were people at Phenrig's tower other than his servitors - and most of those...
Didn't talk so much.
At the top of the earthen outcropping, Sari could place her palm against the side of the tower, feeling the smoothness of it. No brick, no mortar, nothing but smooth, unfaceted stone. She craned her head up and saw, barely visible with her Sight: A thin slit of slightly brighter blackness between two parallel lines of darker darkness. Sari allowed herself a little grin as she whispered. "There we go..."
She opened her pack, fished out her grappling hook, and then started to thread the rope through it. The faint clink of the potion bottles she had brought with her made her wince - she was trying to be quiet, just...just in case. She tried to quiet the bag, but her shifting hand bumped against it and sent the backpack slipping onto its side. One potion rolled out, and then started to roll towards the edge of the rocky outcropping. The downside of the Sight was it robbed her of color vision - and so she had no idea if it was the healing potion, or-
"Nonononono!" Sari squeaked, scrambling and grabbing for the potion. Her fingers just barely closed around it and she fell flat on her belly with a grunt. She lay there, just...panting softly, looking at the bottle in her hands - a tiny twitch of mental focus caused her Sight to shift from the magically enhanced version she was using to normal. In the faint starlight of the glen, the glowing pink hue of the potion was clear. "...you...are not going anywhere." Sari hissed, then shoved her Rebis potion back into the bag, before swinging it shut.
Master Phenrig would kill me if I broke one of his Rebis potions,
she thought, lifting her hand to recast the Sight.
Hell,
I
would kill me if I broke that!
Phenrig had told Sari that she was a Rebis early...it had been one of her first memories, more clear than dim thoughts of parents. She knew they had died during the war between the Silver Princes. Phenrig had said her mother had been a mercenary from the free cities, an arbalasteer who had been slain shortly after bearing Sari during a siege. Her father had been a peddler, who had died in the epidemics that had ravaged the countryside after the armies had marched by - and Phenrig had taken her from the cloister of the Ninth Dragon, having recognized that she was...well, what she was.
A Rebis is the perfected form of the alchemists art - but they can be born naturally, as well.
She could hear his lecturing tone of voice.
Do not mistake it for uniqueness or an excuse to assume ease in future trials. It simply means you have certain options that other magicians may never have. Now. Drink up.
The potions had made parts of her training - especially retaining upper body strength - devilishly hard.
