Falling with folded wing.., p.32
Falling with Folded Wings: A LitRPG Progression Fantasy, page 32
Morgan found himself wishing Issa were there. He could use the companionship for one, and for two, she could open the door while he burst through with the spear ready. As it was, he’d have to let go of the spear to open the door with one hand. He did so, adrenaline pumping, senses hyper-alert as the door creaked open. He winced at the sound and backed up, leveling the spear in front of him. Nothing happened. He pushed the door farther open with the tip of his spear and slowly advanced into the room. He just about lost control of his bodily functions when another chandelier flamed into life, shedding light on a new scene. A long dark table filled the center of this room, directly beneath the chandelier, and it was lined with ten chairs of similar make. Faded tapestries hung on the paneled walls.
Morgan wanted to study the scenes on those tapestries but didn’t allow himself to be distracted. The dining hall was rectangular and large, with an outer wall curved like the tower wall. He could see no exit to his left, so he turned to his right and steadily advanced through the room. He was walking to the right side of the table and could see that a few feet from the end of the table, a set of swinging double doors led out of the room. He guessed they led to a kitchen and was proven right when he poked his spear into one of the dark doors and pushed.
The kitchen was shaped similarly to the dining room but was appointed much differently. Once again, it was lit with flaming glass orbs, but these were in six sconces attached to the walls. The walls were bare metal, like the outside of the tower. Lining both long walls were butcher-block counters with cabinets beneath. A sizeable cast-iron oven and stovetop dominated the far wall. To the left of the oven was a metal door secured with a rune-inscribed padlock. After making sure nothing was hiding in the corners, Morgan tried to pull open the padlock, but it wouldn’t budge. A mystery for later, he supposed.
Back in the central chamber, Morgan repeated the process of opening the next set of doors. This time, he was prepared when the room flared with light. Another chandelier hung from wood-paneled ceilings, illuminating a room lined with built-in bookcases. They were, tragically, entirely bare. Comfortable-looking chairs and couches were placed in conversational groupings. Some of the chairs were upholstered in soft brown leather, and some in a faded, age-worn printed fabric. Morgan counted the chairs and sofas and realized thirty people could comfortably sit in this room. The tower’s layout didn’t make sense; a room this large shouldn’t be here, but he had long since stopped trying to make sense of things that employed dimensional magic. There were no other exits from the room, so he went back to the central chamber to open the last doors.
The lack of confrontation thus far had Morgan feeling a little careless, and he shoved the last set of doors open, then grasped his spear in both hands. Nothing came for him, so he stepped into the room. Sconces along the walls flared to life, and he was rewarded with a poshly appointed study. A colossal desk filled one wall with a deep leather chair behind it. Behind the chair were more empty bookcases. This was the first room to be carpeted, and the carpet was a thick, unworn, deep burgundy with a plush pile. There were a couple of polished wooden chairs with leather seats in front of the desk, and off to the left was a large square table covered with an ornately carved, wooden, topographical map. Morgan was instantly transfixed by the site of the map table and walked over to look at it.
The map was incredibly detailed with ornate carvings and vibrant paints, but Morgan couldn’t make heads or tails of what it was depicting. There were mountain ranges and bodies of water and forests, but he had no way of knowing where they were or if they were even on this world. Who knew where Vormendion had initially built this tower? He supposed the System knew. Those were his thoughts when he saw the shadow move on the table, just to the right of his own.
Morgan didn’t think; he just dropped and rolled to his left, dragging his spear with him. He almost got it tangled with a table leg but managed to shift and roll farther away from the table, springing to his feet. He’d been vaguely aware of something moving behind him, and he looked around now, furiously scanning the room, but couldn’t see what it had been.
He slowly turned in a circle, looking for any sign of an aggressor, but found nothing. He was starting to doubt himself, wondering if he’d been, literally, jumping at shadows. Just as he began to relax, though, he felt an icy stab of pain in his left shoulder, and out of reflex, he spun and swung his spear in a wide arc. He was just barely fast enough to see a shadowy entity break apart as his spear tore through it. He wondered if he’d killed it or hurt it, but the shadows came together again in the corner of his eye, and he felt another icy cut rip into his right bicep. Once again, he whirled and stabbed with his spear only to be met with air as the shadowy being dispersed around the tip.
Morgan growled in frustration and pain and began to channel Energy Drain through his spear, bracing himself for another attack, trying to move in erratic directions to throw his tormentor off. He made a lucky feint to his right, spinning to his left, and caught the shadow mid-swing. It looked like a tall, skeletally-thin person entirely made of dark smoke, the only color coming from cobalt eyes. Morgan thrust his spear into the being and pulled. This time, when the shadowy creature started to disperse, Morgan’s drain resisted it, forcing it back into form. Morgan saw the panic in its eyes as they widened, and he grinned angrily, continuing to channel his Energy Drain. He felt the foreign Energy enter his body like a splash of cold water, but he kept pulling as the blue light faded in the shadow visage’s eyes. When they finally winked out, Morgan felt stronger and knew that his wounds had healed. The shadows fell away into nothing, and he looked around, making sure it had been a lone attacker.
“Congratulations, Lord, on vanquishing the first guardian,” a voice like tinkling glass said from right behind him.
MORGAN
Morgan whirled around, his spear in a guard position, and took a step back. Hovering in the air before him was what he could only describe as a bundle of oscillating silvery lights and mist. The voice tinkled forth from the lights, and they seemed to flare in time with the words. “Don’t be alarmed, Lord. I am here to serve at your pleasure. My name is Tiladia.”
“You’re a servant?” he asked, lifting the tip of his spear and relaxing his guard a bit.
“Of a sort, Lord. I was bound to this tower by its creator. When Lord Vormendion ascended, he instructed me to serve the one who defeated the first guardian.” Several things about that sentence piqued Morgan’s interest.
“What do you mean ascended?”
“Departed this plane, Lord.”
“Uh-huh, and what do you mean he bound you to this tower?”
“When Lord Vormendion vanquished my physical form, he bound my soul here.” Morgan wasn’t sure if he imagined it, but it seemed the tinkling voice took on a note of sorrow.
“Your physical form?” he pressed.
“Yes, Lord. I was a dragon.” The silvery lights and mist pulled together and refined into the shape of a winged serpent that did a lazy flip in the air and then broke apart, back into the previous formless cluster.
“Wow, so he stole your soul? Can I release you?”
“Lord, that wouldn’t be wise at this juncture, even if you were able. I possess keen evaluation skills, and you cannot free me. Not with your present abilities.”
“Well, let’s focus on matters at hand, then. First, please don’t refer to me as ‘lord’—my name is Morgan, and I’m fine with you using it. Second, I have a quest to clear eight guardians from this tower. Am I in danger of being attacked by the other guardians?”
“No, Morgan. Not until you venture onto their respective floors of the tower; they are bound, much like I am, though not so completely.”
“Alright, well, can you help me deal with them?” Despite his better judgment, Morgan found himself trusting the spirit, and he relaxed his posture, placing the butt of his spear on the ground and leaning on it.
“Only so much as to warn you off if I feel your chances of success are too small. I’m sorry, Lord Morgan, but I’m bound by myriad esoteric rules that Vormendion etched into my soulstone.”
“Well, what are my odds? Can I take them?” Morgan sighed deeply. Things never seemed to go easily, and he was starting to realize that the System liked it that way.
“Morgan, I feel you stand a great chance of success against the next guardian. I think you would be wise to gather more strength before you attempt to face the third.” The lights flashed and did a quick circuit around him as it spoke.
“All right, um, I’m sorry, what was your name again?”
“I am Tiladia.”
“Okay, Tiladia, are there any other threats on this floor of the tower?”
“No, Lord Morgan. This floor is clear of danger.”
“Well, in that case, I’m going to go over to that library area and get some sleep on one of those couches. I’m beat. I’ll look into facing the second guardian tomorrow.” Morgan walked past the spirit to the central hall and back into the empty library with all the comfortable-looking couches and chairs. Tiladia followed behind him, emitting a faint tinkling sound as it moved.
“Tiladia, is that a feminine name? I’m sorry for the personal question, but I don’t want to think of you as ‘it’ in my mind.”
“Yes, Morgan, I was a female dragon. I was so beautiful, Morgan! I had dozens of suitors, from Red to Gold. Morgan, my children would have filled the skies of Aradnue. Alas, Vormendion came to our world and took many of our lives in his quest for power. I was the only soul he kept, though, and I know it was because of the beauty of my scales and the ferocity of my breath. He became enamored with me, you see.”
“Well, I’m glad to meet you, Tiladia, and if it’s possible, I’ll do my best to find a way to set you free if that’s what you want.” Morgan loosened the buckles on his armor and his girdle and set his belongings on the floor next to a particularly puffy-looking leather sofa. “Tiladia, do you know how to dim these lights?”
“Yes, Morgan. I will do that for you. Sleep well, and thank you for offering to free me. You’ve given me a lot to think about.” The tinkling voice faded as Tiladia floated from the room and the orange and yellow orbs of fire in the chandelier dimmed to just a faint glimmer. Morgan sighed, stretched out with his robes wrapped tightly around himself, and slept more soundly than he had in many long days.
Morgan stirred, hearing the sound of tinkling bells. As reality intruded on his sleeping mind, he realized he wasn’t hearing someone jingling bells nearby but Tiladia speaking to him. Her voice was musical but very strange, having the quality of crystal or glass breaking and falling on a hard surface. “Morgan. Lord Morgan!” Her voice rose in volume, and he opened his eyes.
“Hello, Tiladia,” he muttered.
“Good morning, Morgan. I am sorry to disturb your rest, but you have a visitor pounding on the door to the tower.” Morgan grunted and immediately leaned over to pull on his boots and greaves.
“How long did I sleep?”
“Just a bit more than ten hours, Morgan.” Tiladia flashed and swirled as she spoke, and Morgan got the impression she was agitated.
“Is something wrong, Tiladia?” he asked, as he fastened his vambraces and stood up to put on his girdle and pouches.
“I’m worried about the intruder, Morgan. Friendly people very seldom visit this tower.”
“Oh, well, that was during Vormendion’s time. I think things will be different while I live here. Don’t worry, that’s probably just one of the colonists coming to see if I’m alive or whatever.” Morgan stretched hugely; he felt good if a bit hungry. “Tiladia, is there a bathroom, you know, a toilet, on this floor?”
“Morgan, the baths are on the fifth floor with the bedrooms. There is a toilet for guests on this floor, though, on the left-hand wall of the entry hall.”
“What? I can’t believe I missed a door; I walked around that central staircase room three times.” Morgan started walking out of the library and into the central chamber.
“The door is discrete, Morgan, and it’s not in this room, but just at the end of the entry hall. I’ll show you,” Tiladia tinkled as she floated ahead of him toward the tower entrance. Morgan followed and, now that he was looking, quickly spotted the paneled door just inside the short hallway leading to the front door. He depressed the little brass handle, and it opened inward into a little bathroom complete with a marble sink and toilet. It was paneled in the same wood as the entry hall and had a decorative tile floor that was an off-white color with black designs, sort of like paisley.
“Running water?” Morgan asked, pushing the little handle to the sink faucet. He marveled as warm water immediately came out of the brass-colored tap.
“Yes, Vormendion liked his creature comforts. He built an Energy-based steam engine in the basement.”
“There’s a basement? Hold on. Answer that when I come out, give me a minute alone in here, please.” Tiladia made a high-pitched tinkling sound as she hurriedly floated out of the bathroom. Morgan closed the door, took care of his business, and returned to the hallway.
“Yes, there’s a basement. It’s through the door in the kitchens, though I’m afraid the key to the lock is in the master bedchamber,” Tiladia responded as soon as he stepped back into the hallway.
“Ugh, and that’s on the fifth floor?”
“No, the guest rooms, seldom-used, by the way, are on the fifth floor. The master bed-chamber is on the sixth floor.”
“Ugh!” Morgan huffed, more loudly this time. Truthfully, he didn’t care that much; he was happy to sleep on a couch for a while, so long as he wasn’t forced to keep watch and wonder what the System might send to interrupt his sleep. He figured it would take him a while to take full ownership of this tower, and he didn’t know how long he’d stick around to mess with it: he wanted to find Issa and her people. With that in mind, he stepped over to one of the front doors and was just reaching to open it when someone banged on it vigorously, four times. When Morgan put his hand on the handle, the door loudly clicked as it unlocked. He pushed it open and was greeted with a familiar face.
“Hey, Boris! Long time no fuckin’ see!” Morgan reached out a hand to shake, but Boris backed up a step.
“Morgan, that’s you? Shit, man, you’ve changed a lot since training.” Morgan and Boris had been in the same training group as they prepared for the Pilgrim mission. They’d both been assigned as technicians and had many of the same classes together.
“Yeah, man, but what hasn’t changed?” Morgan kept his hand out, and Boris snapped out of his stupor and reached forward to shake. “How are you? Are you adjusting to things?”
“Oh, yeah, better than most. I’m pretty good at this Energy shit. Been learning to use it to improve mundane items. Like I learned to enchant an axe, so it doesn’t need to be sharpened so often while cutting trees. People have been trading me all kinds of shit to work on their tools. Arthur says I’m up high on the list to get one of the bigger houses when they start building them.” Boris shrugged and backed up to the edge of the stoop, and gestured to the tower. “Nothing like this, though. This tower is insane, man. Where’d you get it? Oh, by the way, Olivia sent me to get you; they’re having a meeting soon and want you to attend.”
Morgan stepped out, closed the door behind him, then said, “Yeah, this tower was a reward for completing a fairly difficult quest. I’ll tell you the whole story sometime. Where are we headed?”
“Over to the forge. They like to meet there ’cause it has big worktables they can stand around and talk.” Boris turned, walked down the steps, and waited for Morgan, who followed. Morgan took a breath of the crisp morning air, letting Boris lead the way as they walked up the slight incline to the main encampment. They made small talk, Morgan feeling awkward because of the deference with which Boris treated him. Boris kept surreptitiously looking at him from the side of his eyes, and Morgan could feel the gulf that had sprung up between them—another side effect of sleeping for hundreds of years and then waking up in a magical reality, he supposed.
Soon, they were walking into the warm air of the forge, and Morgan saw several people, including Olivia and Arthur, standing around a big work table. The table was littered with large sheets of paper covered with diagrams, maps, and notes. Morgan walked up to the table with Boris, and the conversation halted. Olivia smiled and said, “Good morning, Morgan. Let me introduce our temporary council. You already met Arthur Ballard. This gentleman on my left is Dr. Kerns. He’s our Chief Medical Officer. You know Boris; he’s representing the technical groups, and next to Arthur, there, is Tanya Delgado. She’s our Chief Civil Engineer.”
“Hello everyone,” Morgan said, as he moved to stand in an empty spot to Olivia’s left.
“Yes, everyone, this is Morgan Hall. I won’t pretend that we haven’t already been talking about him all morning. Morgan, we wanted you here because you’ve experienced a lot more of this world than we have and obviously had some success. We’re also keen to hear about your plans to contact your friend’s community.”
“Well, I’ve already debriefed you and Arthur about nearly everything. I’m happy to answer specific questions, though. As far as my friend, Issa, goes, I’m going to start scouting toward her settlement as soon as possible. I’m not sure what lies between here and there, so I may or may not have to improve my abilities prior to trying to make the journey.”
“How do you know where she is? Did she help you to make a map?” Tanya Delgado asked.
“No. Neither Issa nor I knew where in the world the Crucible was. We weren’t even sure it was on this planet until we got to the top and saw the moons. She didn’t recognize the landscape. Not only that, but she had no idea where in the world the System put the humans. So, yeah, no map. I have an ability, though, granted by my class, that allows me to kind of feel where an ally is.”
