Paul, the Magi Tower

  Wystan had been sleeping in the acolyte dorms. He was having a pleasant dream about hunting, magic, and maybe Neadora, though he would never admit it. He was about to fell a large stag, prey the likes of which legends are told. That was until Paul shook him awake.

  "Wystan, get up. Wystan!" He whispered urgently. "C'mon man, we have to go!"

  The elf begrudgingly opened his eyes, "What in Erowin's na-"

  "We don't have time, let's go. Now."

  Paul grabbed the drowsy elf under his arm and began to heave him from his bed. The other acolytes turned in their sleep, causing him to stop suddenly. Once it was clear that no one had been woken, he began to heave Wystan up once more. They left the dorm and quickly went along the snaking paths inside the tower. Wystan tried to ask what was wrong, but Paul would only shush him

  until they exited the tower.

  "Aldis is here. We need to leave." Paul said.

  "Here? Do you mean to tell me Lord Aldis is here at the capitol?"

  "I just spoke to him. So I'm assuming yes."

  "Erowin carry us...He didn't recognize you did he?"

  "I'm not sure. It doesn't matter, we need to leave."

  "Aye, we do... And here I was excited to learn magic."

  "Practice on the way."

  "Aye, I suppose..."

  The duo entered the workshop. Paul was fruitlessly searching for a lantern he had been keeping for his nighttime work.

  "Wait, hang on. I learned this trick today."

  He took a second, then began to whisper. A sudden light appeared, a small flame was suspended above the elf's hand.

  "It worked!" The fire died suddenly, and Wystan apologized and continued to chant so that the fire would remain lit. With the help of magic, Paul was able to find and light his lantern.

  "Thanks, that's pretty useful. Fire huh?"

  "Aye, Ashwen told me it was the noblest and most powerful of the elements. What do you think of that!"

  Wystan's chest puffed up with pride. Paul couldn't help but crack a smile; despite the danger looming over their heads, Wystan's enthusiasm was infectious.

  "It suits you," Paul said with a nod. "But we really must focus on escaping. We can discuss elemental nobility once we're miles from here."

  Paul retrieved his weapon and the nearly finished breastplate. It wasn't going to be comfortable, but it would protect his chest at the very least. Wystan cocked his brow at the hidden works that Paul had.

  "What's all this?"

  "I'll tell you later. Here, grab a bag. Some of this is valuable and I have a feeling we'll need money soon." said Paul, as he began to strap on armor.

  The two quickly scavenged for any useful items they could find, placing assorted tools and materials into an old burlap sack. Paul grabbed some experimental ammo he had been working on, an iron ball packed into a waxed paper wad with some gunpowder. He didn't intend to use the rifle yet. It hadn't been tested, and Paul was rather fond of having hands. Once they had filled the sack, they decided it was time to leave. After discussing it briefly they planned to head east. sure they had nearly half an entire kingdom to run, but at least when they cross the borders they wouldn't have orcs to deal with.

  Wystan was getting into the plan now. "If we hurry, I imagine we could make it to the forest near Haod by tomorrow. There we could try to throw them off if they even both-"

  There was a soft voice behind them, "Ehem." The duo nearly jumped and turned to see none other than Ashwen standing beside the doorway.

  "Awfully late for a stroll." He said pointedly. "Now Hayod... You wouldn't be trying to leave without saying goodbye, would you?"

  Paul stared back into Ashwen's eyes. They were cold, not angry, or even annoyed. It was a look devoid of expression as if he had been carved from the stone wall behind him.

  "I asked you a question. Hayod."

  Shit shit shit, I should have grabbed some gravel. Or some sand, damn it!

  "N-no, Dale and-" he replied.

  Ashwen's voice cut through the air like a whip, "Do not lie to me, boy."

  "Sir, we were j-" began Wystan.

  "Am I speaking to you, acolyte? No? Then stay silent!"

  Wystan looked like he wanted to be anywhere in the world but here.

  "You know Hayod, it's the damnedest thing. I cannot hurt you with my magic. Did you know that? It's part of a blood oath, I won't bore you with the details. We magi cannot harm another living being. Unless... They have been taught the secrets of magic." Ashwen turned his head, and his cold eyes fell upon Wystan.

  He inhaled and began to chant. A ring of bright flame sprung up around Paul and Wystan. "You might have noticed that you're becoming very warm... You see, I cannot directly harm you. Not physically anyways, but you seem to be rather fond of this acolyte. It would be a shame if anything were to happen to the him wouldn't it?"

  Paul looked around himself, Ashwen was right. He was getting warmer, and it was becoming very uncomfortable.

  "You're not chanting... how..." Wystan said.

  "When you've been around as long as I have, you pick up some tricks. After all, I am a master. I don't want to hurt him Hayod, so let this be nothing more than a warning."

  I could try and use this... I wonder if I could load it fast enough...Damn it, why didn't I load this stupid thing earlier?

  Now Ashwen began to sound annoyed, "Well Hayod? I'm waiting for an answer."

  I could rush him, if nothing else this thing makes for a good bludgeon I'm sure...

  The thought was there and the moment it had come Paul acted on it. He leapt forward thorugh the flames, raising the gun by the barrel.

  Ashwen's expression barely changed as he observed Paul’s desperate lunge. His lips twisted into a small, self-satisfied smirk just before Paul swung the rifle-stock like a maul at the fire mage's head. The mage darted suddenly to the side, avoiding Paul's attack.

  In response, Ashwen extended a single hand toward Wystan and muttered a word that was all but lost in the crackle of flames.

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  Wystan screamed. A tongue of flame leapt from the fiery circle and coiled around him like a serpent made of pure agony. The young elf writhed, trying to bat away the magical inferno that refused to be quenched.

  "No!" Paul's shout was guttural, filled with rage and helplessness. He spun, swinging the rifle again, fueled by desperation more than skill.

  Ashwen retreated a step back into the shadows of the doorway, evading once more.

  "I would advise you stop this, unless you wish for the young elf to be turned to ash. If you calm yourself now we can still treat the burns he's received."

  Paul lowered the rifle, gritting his teeth as he suppressed every instinct screaming at him to continue the attack. His eyes were fixed on Wystan, who now lay panting on the floor, smoke rising from singed robes and skin.

  "I'll stop," Paul said through clenched teeth. "But help him. Help Wystan now."

  Paul's hands trembled around the rifle. He met the fire mage’s gaze — that unyielding stone-cold stare — and for a moment, it seemed like Ashwen could see right through him, weighing his very soul on an invisible scale.

  Finally, Paul lowered the weapon. The defiance in his eyes had not waned, but survival instincts took precedence. He could not let Wystan suffer further.

  "Good." Ashwen nodded approvingly. "You are making the wise choice. Now then," he said as the flames died down around them with a dismissive wave of his hand, "let us forget these unpleasant

  theatrics and talk as civilized... beings. You've something I want, Hayod, if that is your name. Tell me, why now? Why not before?"

  Paul's voice was full of venom, "Why what?"

  Ashwen's eyes rolled in a sort of annoyed manner, "You both trying to flee, I assume Aldis had something to do with-"

  Ashwen had the look of someone who suddenly figured out a difficult puzzle, he smirked. "Ah, I think i understand now. Aldis lost his youngest recently, according to him and his servants it was some stranger from another land. What did they say his name was... Pole? No no no, it was something else..."

  Ashwen tapped his chin in mock thoughtfulness, "Oh yes, that's right! The name was Paul! Paul and some brat of an innkeepers son!"

  "Perhaps it is as you say. And perhaps I have a reason to leave this godsforsaken place."

  Ashwen's smirk broadened into a grin that did not quite reach his eyes. "Reason? I am intrigued. Speak then, Paul."

  Paul could feel the weight of the rifle in his hands. It was no longer just a weapon; it was a bargaining chip—his only leverage against a man who could set them ablaze with a word. He locked eyes with Ashwen, finding some semblance of courage in desperation.

  "The young lord's death was a tragedy, one I wish never occurred." Paul paused as he glanced at Wystan, wanting to make sure he understood the gravity of their situation. "But you see, we didn't kill him. It was an accident, an unfortunate encounter that went awry."

  Wystan coughed and slowly pushed himself up to his elbows, eyes wide with fear and pain but focused on Paul.

  Ashwen leaned forward slightly, interest piqued. "An accident? How quaint. But accidents have consequences."

  "And we're suffering them," Paul said, the weight of the truth heavy on his tongue. "We're being hunted for something we didn't intend. Aldis wants blood for blood, and he won't listen to reason."

  Ashwen circled them slowly, like a hawk eyeing its prey. "Aldis is a man of limited vision," he mused. "I, on the other hand, see the full picture. You have information, knowledge that could be of use to me. Perhaps there's a way to turn this unfortunate incident to both our advantages."

  Paul swallowed hard, feeling the dryness of his throat as if it were lined with sandpaper. He had to play this carefully; one wrong word and Ashwen could incinerate their futures as easily as he did Wystan's skin.

  "This weapon in my hands, it is like the cannon... I can make you more of these, please just let Wystan go..."

  "Wystan? Huh, I honestly liked Dale more... Of course Paul, I was going to suggest the very same anyways. I will keep both of you safe from Aldis, of course, for a price."

  "Weapons for protection, Paul. A fair trade, don't you think?"

  Paul squinted at him skeptically, his fingers tightening around the rifle.

  "Protection and healing for Wystan," he countered firmly, not willing to barter away any more than he absolutely had to.

  Ashwen's lips curled into a half-smile. "You drive a hard bargain for someone in your position. But I am feeling... generous today."

  ***

  Paul hadn’t slept that night. He couldn't, he had tried but sleep would not come to him. After a time there was a knock on his door. Ashwen had sent an acolyte to summon him.

  Honestly, what are the chances this thing blows my hands off? I bet it would fire at least once... but then how do I get out of here after that? Damn it, I should have tested this thing...

  He followed the young mage through the tower up to Ashwen's door. Once inside, the elf looked quite different than he did last night. For starters, there was a big shit-eating grin across his face.

  "Sit, now... About that new weapon you had."

  Paul nodded, still wrestling with the fact that he really shouldn't try to shoot the elf right now. There would be time enough later for that.

  "Wonderful! You've been holding out on us Paul, let me guess again eh? It's something like a portable cannon. Judging from how it looks anyways and what you said last night, it's meant to be used

  by a single person. I'm quite sure the other magi would love to witness it in action..."

  Of course, they do.

  "Go down to the range, would you? We'll be there soon enough."

  Paul turned to leave, "Oh, and Paul. I was not bluffing last night. There are many things worse than death you know, many of which just might find their way to that friend of yours if you try anything. Goodbye!"

  ***

  Henry was standing outside the workshop, once he saw Paul he ran to him.

  "What have you done! Ashwen is furious!" Exclaimed the elf. "And Dale! Erowin help me, what have you done!?"

  "Henry, I'm sorry... There's a few things I may have not told you..."

  "Did you try to leave last night? What in the world could have possessed you to do that? now Dale is being punished!"

  "I-I didn't me-"

  "You didn't mean to what? Get caught? Damn you Hayod! You didn't even say goodbye! Now Dale might be permanently scared because of this!"

  Henry's eyes were misting, and he turned away from Paul.

  "I'm sorry... It's just... I've seen this happen before. I enjoy you, Hayod, I really do. And Dale is a bright young lad, he doesn't deserve this!"

  The elf's voice had become shaky. Paul wasn't sure what to do. He had never been good at consoling people. He just stood there, trying to think of what to say. Anything to say. He hadn't meant for

  any of this.

  "His name is Wystan." He said finally.

  "What? What in Erowin's name-"

  "Dale, Dale's real name is Wystan. Mine is Paul. We had to assume new names because... The reason why isn't important right now. I need to go to the range, I'm sorry Henry."

  Henry's mouth was agape, he stuttered for a moment, "What do you mean? You... You lied to me?"

  "I'm sorry Henry."

  Paul pushed past the shocked elf, who after a moment silently went back to the tower.

  ***

  Paul had busied himself with prepping the rifle. The trigger wasn't functional, but that wasn't much of a worry to him. He braced it on a table he brought from the workshop, using some rope to tie it down. The way it was designed was rather crude, needing a spark to ignite the powder on the waxed paper. He loaded it and lodged a fuse into the touch hole. It took the elves an hour to finally show up.

  "I see you've already set things up eh? Very well, you can begin." Said Ashwen.

  Paul lit the fuse and watched the flame. He was half hoping it wouldn't work. When the little flame reached its destination the resounding bang that followed told him that it had worked perfectly, which surprised Paul. He expected at least something to go wrong. The elves immediately began talking amongst themselves about the opportunity that they now had.

  "They'll buy hundreds of these things! Maybe thousands! Tell me kadrêni, how fast can you make more of these?" Said one of the magi.

  "It takes a while to make one unless you don't care about quality, then I-"

  "If you have a way to make them quicker than you had better get on it. Micah, go and inform the Detêmri that we have a new weapon for sale. Ah, and Paul. I didn't get to tell you last night. The Detêmri want to make use of your services, of course, I can't let you go just yet. But soon enough you'll be under their care for a time. Right, well I suppose that's everything eh? Good, now you go and work on making more of those."

  ***

  The following days were stressful. Paul decided that since the magi didn't care about quality, he could easily make something that functioned at least similar to the rifle. What he decided upon was a bronze tube affixed to the end of a staff with a touch hole for firing. It was remarkably simple, but after testing he found it was rather effective. the shorter barrel cut down on reload time, and the range wasn't too bad either. Sure, it looked nothing like the rifle, but the elves didn't seem to care one bit. They only cared about how many could be made and how quickly. Paul hadn't seen Wystan since they were caught, nor had Henry been around. Paul was beginning to feel quite lonely without them.

  Paul was in the workshop, putting the newly made weapons together when he was interrupted by Ashwen.

  "Come with me. The Detêmri need your services. How many of these guns do you have?"

  "Uh, twenty, I think... Though they haven't all been put together, it takes time to-"

  "I'll send someone to grab whatever is finished. You will be under the authority of the Steward for a while."

  "Why? What's going on?"

  "It is not your place to question me, Paul, do as I say. Come with me to the castle, they are waiting for you."

  ***

  Paul's boots clicked against the cold, stone floor as he followed Ashwen through winding corridors until they reached a grand chamber. The A rather imposing figure sat on a throne at the far end.

  "You must be the engineer, Paul. Or do you prefer I call you Hayod?"

  "Yes sir, I am Paul. I took on the name Hayod for fear of an elf named Aldis."

  The regal elf stood up, "I am Elric, the Lord Steward. I am ruling in the stead of the late king. While you labor under my hand you will not fear Lord Aldis. Should you serve me well, you will not fear for your life so long as I live."

  Ashwen's voice came, "Now wait a moment Lord Steward, once your business with my engineer is concluded, he will be under my authority!"

  Elric raise a hand to silence the mage, "So long as the magi reside in the lands that I oversee, the magi are beholden to me. Or did you forget your oath, Ashwen?"

  The mage's anger at this was barely hidden behind a calm facade. Elric then turn his gaze back to Paul.

  "What do you say, Paul?"

  "Then I will do my best."

  Elric grinned, "I'll have someone contact the Smith's Guild. You will instruct these smiths on how to make your weapons. You are no longer needed Ashwen, you will take your leave now."

  The mage bowed once more before turning to leave. Paul and Elric watched as he left, and once they were alone Paul spoke.

  "What's going on? Why am I working for you now?"

  "We are at war, young one," Elric said gravely. "And I fear this is a conflict we are not prepared to fight."