Chapter 3: The Tower

For a blissful moment, Rhys thought he was back in the village, back in Dara’s bed. The soft linen on his naked skin, the smell of apples-

“Rise and shine, my boy!”

The voice was most definitely not Dara’s. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, blinking furiously.

Next to his bed, barely able to look at him over the tall frame and mattress, stood a blonde, beardless dwarf. His hair was neatly parted to one side and he didn’t bother with the student robes, instead wearing a simple shirt, an embroidered vest and pants, the legs of which were tucked into shiny boots. His shoulders were wider than Rhys and he rubbed his hands expectantly.

“You’re not what I expected,” Rhys muttered, fighting to clear his cobwebs.

“I betcha! Sorry I took over from Sen, but my cousin was rather specific with her instructions. ‘Make sure Rhys makes it to his first lessen before midday,’ she’d said, and knowing our dapper maid, that wouldn’t have happened if she had any say in it.” He did not only look unlike any dwarf Rhys had ever seen – most of them in Gran’s book – he didn’t even sound like one. His speech was crisp and free of the gravelly undertones Rhys associated with them.

Something Idunn had said the previous evening came back. “So, you’re Galdor then?” Rhys swung his legs out of bed. He felt incredibly rested, practically bursting with energy.

“Ha! Seems my reputation precedes me.” The dwarf bowed. “Galdor Ironcog, at your service. And if you don’t mind, please don’t tarry overmuch. We’ve got quite a schedule to keep.”

“We do?” Rhys padded into the bathroom and drew fresh, cool water from the wall-mounded spigot and poured it into the bowl. Now that he could, he wanted to enjoy the luxury of cleanliness as often as possible.

“Most indeed. Idunn asked me to show you around the tower, make sure you get your bearings. Then it’s off to your first lesson, find out what you’re capable of.”

Even one room away, Rhys could smell the aroma of apples. He splashed water into his face, then rinsed himself down quickly. A toweling-down later he rejoined Galdor, pulling fresh clothes from his wardrobe.

“Forgive me for asking but what happened yesterday?” Rhys began, putting on a loincloth. “Was it you and the goblin arguing?”

“Oh, don’t you bloody remind me,” Galdor said, balling his fists. “That raving lunatic not only spoiled one of my experiments, she destroyed my lab and nearly killed me in the process!” He pointed to Rhys’ desk. “I brought you some breakfast.”

“Thank you.” Rhys sat on his bed, slipping on socks and his sandals. Next came the robe. “That had to be some pretty dangerous experiment.”

“When I started it, it wasn’t,” Galdor growled. “I had been working on a new formula for a healing potion, one which don’t turn your stomach inside out. And that walking piece of kakel bakel thought spiking everything with apple essence would help!” He balled his fists. “My room is fouled beyond belief, I had to sleep elsewhere.” And here the dwarf blushed.

“Can I help somehow?” Rhys sat down at his desk and looked at the tray. The one from the previous night had vanished, replaced with a simple bowl of oatmeal and a mug of tea.

“Unless you have an idea on how to get the stench of burnt apples out of all my belongings, can repair broken flasks and replace some rather expensive components, I don’t know how. I hope you like oatmeal.”

“Believe me, at this point I’ll take anything,” Rhys mumbled around a mouthful. It had raisins and cream in it. Amazed at the luxury spent on him, he eagerly scooped up another spoonful.

Galdor took a seat in one of the armchairs, sighing. A few minutes of silence went past, only disturbed by Rhys’ spoon clinking in his bowl. Eventually, Galdor spoke. “Listen, it may be a bit sudden but would you mind if I move in for a night or two? At least until the worst damage is dealt with? I’ll bring my own bed and I promise, I don’t snore.”

Rhys looked up from his mostly empty bowl. “Didn’t you just say you already found somewhere to sleep?”

“That was a one-time thing, believe me. I barely managed two hours of sleep.” The dwarf yawned expansively. “I should have properly thought the idea through before asking Chassari.” He shook his head.

“Who’s that?”

“A fellow student. I’m sure you’ll bump into her sooner rather than later.” Galdor slapped his thighs. “Anyway, done?”

Rhys scraped the last dollops of oatmeal out of his bowl, smacking his lips. “That was tasty.” He rose. “I wouldn’t mind some company. Most of my life, I’ve shared with four brothers. Being all on my own all of a sudden is quite overwhelming.”

Galdor chuckled. “Believe me, you’ll yearn for peace and quiet sooner rather than later. But with the two of us holding the fort, we’ll keep the tower’s crazed womanfolk at bay.” He walked to the door and pulled it open, bowing ceremoniously. “And thank you most kindly.”

Galdor took Rhys on an extensive tour of the tower, starting on the fourth-floor landing. A curving stairwell snaked upwards, disappearing above a pane of shimmering, magical lights. Unlike the day before, when the light was warm and golden, it shone harsh and white, like a fresh morning sun in the midst of winter.

“What’s up there?” Rhys asked, pointing.

“Thurguz’ quarters. You know, the rooms you’re not supposed to enter unless invited. Let’s go this way instead,” Galdor said, pointing down one of the corridors.

“Up here are our quarters. Well, in theory, we could house thrice our number without even feeling crowded but with just the seven of us that’s a whole lot of magically sealed doors.” He pointed at more solid wood set in door frames. Rhys gingerly touched his lower back but there was no pain.

“And here, we have a small common room. Not that it gets to see much use, not after Idunn issued her sex ban.” Galdor threw a door wide. Beyond was a round room, easily the size of Dara’s taproom. In regular intervals, large, arched windows had been set in the wall, offering fantastic vistas. One showed a dense, primeval forest, the next opened onto a busy city street. Rhys could see the colorful awnings of a bustling market beyond and thick throngs mill about. He had never seen so many people in one space before. Another window showed the area around the tower, ice and craggy stone wherever the eye went. The next-

Rhys stepped back hastily. A huge maw had appeared out of the inky darkness framed by the arch, rows and rows of dagger-like teeth. It didn’t crash through the window but passed by, belonging to a gargantuan fish, larger than any ox or draft horse he had ever seen.

“What is this?”

“You will soon learn that Master Thurguz is a bit of an eccentric. Not only did he cram a small village’s worth of space into his narrow tower but he likes his spectacular imagery. That’s the Sword Divide. Only viewed from underwater.”

Rhys walked to the window, past divans and tables, past small shelves filled with assorted knick-knacks he couldn’t make heads nor tails of, a boxy music instrument with a row of wooden keys and book shelves taller than he was. He reached out and touched the window. A solid pane of glass stopped his fingers. “This is the actual ocean? And the window can’t burst?”

“I bloody damn hope so,” Galdor chuckled. “It would be quite a mess, having half the ocean flood in here. But like I said, barely anyone comes here any more. Only Lishaka, to bang on that goddamn thing.” He jabbed an accusing finger at the music instrument. “Come, we still have some ground to cover.” The dwarf turned on his heels and left, not waiting if Rhys kept up.

Also on the fourth floor, there were not one but three small libraries. “Mostly theoretical texts,” Galdor explained. “Idunn and Thurguz keep the interesting stuff locked away until they deem us ready for it.”

“Three libraries?”

“Sure. And several copies of each book. Whatever he is planning, Thurguz plans big.” Galdor closed the door to the large, vaulted room and opened the one on the opposite side of the corridor. “One of the alchemy labs.” His voice turned into a low growl.

The room was occupied. Standing on a stool, swaying her narrow hips in tune to a bawdry song, was Lishaka, the goblin. She stirred in a huge cauldron with a long ladle. Whatever she was cooking smelled extremely spicy and bubbled ferociously.

“Isn’t one alchemy lab enough already?” Galdor roared. “What diabolic mischief are you planning now?”

Lishaka stopped mid-stir and snapped her fingers. The infernal bubbling stopped, the ladle standing at an impossible angle. She turned and favored the newcomers with a wide grin. Thanks to her broad mouth and her wide, triangular ears the smile was very expansive. Small, pointy teeth glinted.

“Good morning, Galdor. I am truly sorry for blowing up your lab last night. Really. As a token of my sincerity-”

“Whatever it is, I don’t want any part of it!” Galdor snarled, fuming.

The goblin looked crestfallen, her ears almost folding inwards. “I’ve spent the whole night learning how to cook lava stew. Idunn told me it’s your favorite,” she moaned.

“And knowing you, it’s so spicy it will sear my innards,” Galdor growled. “If you want to show how sorry you are, you could start by repairing some of the damage you did to my room!” He stomped out of the alchemy lab and slammed the door shut behind himself.

“Um, hello.” Rhys said.

“I only wanted to help,” the goblin muttered, hanging her head. “It’s not like I would know that apple essence would react that harshly with troll liver and the blood of ogre mages. It’s just bloody apple juice, distilled thirty times. Well, screw this. See if I care next time.” Only then did she notice Rhys. Her expression brightened in a flash.

“Hello there!” She hopped off the chair and extended a hand. “I’m Lishaka but, going by his rant, Galdor’s probably chewed your ear off how I am to blame for everything, eh?”

Behind her, the cauldron resumed bubbling.

“Who are you?”

“Rhys. I’m new. Um.” He pointed at the cauldron. Lishaka ignored his gesture, instead looking him up and down.

“What species are you? Half-human?” Her eyes glinted mischievously.

“Why, because I’m so thin? No, just a simple human farm boy.”

“And what’s a simple human farm boy doing in Thurguz’ Tower of Beautiful Strays?”

A sinister rumbling was emanating from the cauldron. Rhys paled and grabbed Lishaka by the shoulder, turning the goblin to face the frothing, red substance slowly oozing over the cauldron’s lip. She was light as a feather, maybe ninety pounds when wet, with a wiry strength in her shoulders. “What in blazes are you doing?” he asked.

“Oh crap! When did my spell expire?” Lishaka raised her hands and gnashed her teeth. “Bad stew! Back, back I say!” Almost like a living entity, the cauldron’s contents coiled, threatening to spill and probably horribly burn the diminutive greenskin.

Rhys didn’t hesitate. He looked around. Huge shelves with all manner of ingredient drawers lined the walls interspersed by racks with flasks, cauldrons and tools. Close by, several barrels had been opened. One of them held a clear liquid. Hoping he didn’t make a fatal mistake, he dipped his hand into it. Water. Mercy be praised. He grabbed a deep bowl and dunked it into the barrel then tossed the water into the flames underneath the cauldron, dousing them. The stew, or whatever it was, collapsed in on itself with a wet smacking sound.

“Yes! Victory!” Lishaka jumped up and down on the stool, swinging the ladle like an oversized weapon.

Rhys harrumphed.

“Oh, right. Thank you! How did you know?”

Rhys laughed, wiping sweat off his brow. “I may be a novice when it comes to magic but I’ve been around a kitchen plenty of times. There probably was a massive bubble in the soup.”

“Or the elemental infusion I added went a bit haywire,” Lishaka said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Was that stuff even supposed to be edible?”

“I was about to taste test it just before you arrived.” Something popped in the cauldron, followed by a hissing expulsion of air which sounded almost like a scream. The massive iron vessel rumbled on its legs. “Maybe a good thing that you came along.”

“Probably. It would be a real shame if the tower exploded on my second day here.”

“Nah, that would not have happened. Probably. Most likely not. I’m sure of it.”

“Listen, I’d like to stay and talk, but-”

“Yeah, that grumpy spoilsport is probably outside, stewing in his own piss. Don’t make him angry. You won’t like him when he’s angry.”

“I’ll see you later then.”

“Count on it. I owe you one. Now ... let’s see. Come here, stewie stewie...” Lishaka sing-songed, digging in the cauldron. It sounded disgustingly goopy and clumpy. “I wonder if it’s still good...”

Shivering, Rhys left the lab.

Galdor waited for him on the landing. “And here I thought she might have blown you up alongside her,” the dwarf grumbled. He sniffed. “Not half bad. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so harsh on her.”

“Is that the ages-old feud between dwarves-”

Galdor cut him off with a swipe of the hand. “Nah. That’s only Lishaka. She hasn’t stopped getting on my nerves since the moment Thurguz dragged her in half a year ago. Come. We’re burning daylight.” The dwarf marched down the stairs, Rhys scrambling behind him.

“This floor houses the training rooms, large and small both,” Galdor said, walking past numerous wooden doors set in even intervals around the circular landing. “You’ll soon see their inside for yourself.”

They passed a larger corridor, more a vault than a simple throughfare. It ended nearly a hundred feet away at a massive set of double doors. The walls were lined with a long row of life-sized portraits.

“Ah, the Hall of Portraits and the large auditorium. Another example of Thurguz’ idea of scale. Or the utter lack thereof,” Galdor said mildly.

Rhys walked into the Hall of Portraits, admiring the pictures. Each of them showed a single individual, men and women of different species. Every one was stark naked, drawn in exquisite detail and holding a weapon or magical implement. Five portraits in, he stopped, his cheeks burning. Smiling benevolently down at him was Celeste, her shapely butt leaning against a waist-high elven pillar as she bent forward, offering a ring to the onlooker. The piece of jewelry burned with an inner radiance the artist had flawlessly captured, along with the shadows Celeste’s curves cast.

“Friend of yours?” Galdor asked, critically inspecting the naked brunette.

“Yes. But what is our village cleric doing here, being all naked?”

“Like I told you – Thurguz is quite the eccentric. And you have to agree, these are all spectacular visions, right?” He pointed at a broad-shouldered man with long, straight black hair who held a large, two-handed sword over his head, yelling at the full moon overhead. His body was chiseled, every muscle finely toned, from his impressive biceps over rock-hard pecs to an envy-inducing six pack. Rhys blushed. The warrior’s cock was rock-hard also and reached well above his navel.

“Will we end up here as well?” Rhys asked, a tone of acute apprehension in his voice.

“No idea. Until now, no one has asked me to sit ... or stand ... or lasciviously writhe for a painting,” Galdor said, eyeing a buxom dwarf woman with dark skin and almost silver hair. She proudly wore an axe-over-anvil tattoo on her thigh and clasped a shining amulet sitting between her large breasts. “Too bad I haven’t seen her anywhere,” he muttered, stroking his chin. “Anyway, let’s go.”

As they came down the stairs to the second level, Rhys could hear the clang of weapons. He shot Galdor an alarmed look.

“Don’t worry. That’s the ‘arena’ as Hagazz tends to call it. I’d rather say it’s the former wine cellar repurposed as an an armory and sparring space.”

“Cellar? By my count, we’re on the second floor.”

“Well, Hagazz told me when he joined Thurguz, the room was down in the dungeons.”

“It will probably take a while before I stop gawking like an idiot,” Rhys grumbled.

“I’m damn sure that’s Thurguz’ whole idea. Along with the arena, there are some more rooms on this floor,” Galdor said. “Salons, each one named after a color and with a certain theme. The ‘Green Salon’ is a damn forest clearing, the ‘Golden Salon’ could be taken straight out of a dwarf hold, you get the idea. But first, let’s look who’s suffering in the arena.” Galdor threw open a set of double doors. “Here we are.”

Rhys recognized the general layout of a wine cellar. Dara’s inn had one and they had played hide-and-seek around the large barrels, casks and tuns when they were kids. This wine cellar could conceivably serve the whole village had it remained outfitted for its original purpose. But the barrels and casks and shelves had been removed. Every inch of wall space was taken up by either weapons, shields or a piece of armor. The center of the room sported a circular, recessed area filled with fine white sand, at least forty feet across. A tiny pinprick of light hovered beneath the ceiling, producing an impressive imitation of midday sunlight. Three people moved around in the circle. He easily recognized Hilgrun. The tall, blonde woman fought with a padded two-handed sword, causing her assailants to dodge out of her impressive reach. She was naked save for a long loincloth which went to just about her knees. Only when he looked up again did Rhys realize that she wore a sweat-stained blindfold.

She squared off against a dark elven male, a black-skinned slash of a man compared to her. He had the sides of his skull shaved bald, leaving a wide strip of white hair and a ponytail which went to about the midst of his back. Like Hilgrun, he was almost naked, only a loincloth offered a minimum of protection. In contrast to her though, his ebony skin was already marred by a couple of nasty-looking bruises. He wielded a short sword and dagger effortlessly, preferring to duck under or around Hilgrun’s wide slashes and cuts. Most of his back was tattooed, a large triangle of daggers, pointing to his toned butt, with a shimmering ghost of a gold coin in their midst.

The third combatant ... Rhys didn’t know how long he stood and stared, trying to understand what exactly he saw.

“Heh. That’s Borna,” Galdor said. He sounded unbelievably smug. “Takes quite a bit to stop you dead in your tracks, I see.”

Rhys shook his head and tried again. The being called “Borna” was easily as large as Hilgrun, bigger than any woman he had ever seen before. And she was definitely female. Her face rivaled the icon of Mercy in her serene beauty, with white, feather-like hair and skin as pure as fresh snow. He didn’t see her eyes, she wore a blindfold much like Hilgrun did. At around neck height, the creamy white of her skin vanished, replaced by large, uneven scales covering a shapely pair of breasts and the rest of her body. The scales were mostly blood-red along her front and turned into a charcoal-black on her shoulders, the rear of her arms and legs and her back. Two vestigial limbs sprouted off her shoulder blades like withered branches and a long, sinuous tail grew from just above her butt crack. A thick swath of fabric had been wound around the tip. She stalked the sand on long legs, her feet ending in black, cloven hooves. A loincloth was her only article of clothing. Like the tip of her tail, her fists were wrapped up, leaving them to look more like mitts.

“I don’t understand ... She’s a demon!” Rhys whispered. Borna’s head turned his way. Without breaking her stride, she blocked one of Hilgrun’s slashes with her armored forearm and sunk her fist in the tall blonde’s stomach, easily lifting her off her feet. Hilgrun crumpled to the floor, coughing furiously, but Borna wasn’t done. Her tail slashed through the air, missing the dark elf’s head by a few hairs.

He jumped into the air. Rhys could hardly believe his eyes. Instead of falling, the dark elf drifted upwards until his feet were level with Borna’s head. He kicked, hitting her square on the forehead. If his hit had any effect at all, Rhys couldn’t say. Faster than a lightning bolt, Borna’s fist came up, clipping his thigh. The mitt scratched along his leg. Despite the padding, four long, irregular cuts appeared, bleeding profusely. A moment later, the tail whipped up and around the dark elf’s waist. The padded tip rested against his chest.

He made a protesting sound then Borna slammed him into the sand. Her hoof came down, gently tapping his sternum.

“And you’re dead,” the red-scaled ... thing said, her voice a raspy hum.

“Now that you mention it,” the dark elf grumbled. “I’ll teach you to upstage your arms master.”

Borna took a step back and pulled off her blindfold before leaning down and hauling the panting, sweating dark elf to his feet. “I think we have earned enough bruises for one day,” she said. “Our visitors are just the perfect reason to end the lesson.” She turned around and favored Galdor and Rhys with a dazzling smile.

“Don’t be mad at Rhys here. He’s new,” Galdor said, taking a step in front of Rhys.

Borna eyed Rhys, cocking her head. Somehow her movements reminded him of a nervous bird – if nervous birds had long, whip-like tails and hoofed feet. “You smell delicious. Meaty. I would like to taste you. Later.”

“Uh ... I don’t think so,” Rhys muttered, raising his arms. “Nice to meet you?”

“We’ll see about that,” Borna whispered, brushing past him. Her tail slithered up his leg, the padded tip bumping against his crotch. Then she was past him and through the doors.

“I’d better go and help her out of her padding,” Hilgrun groaned, standing up and, pulling off her own blindfold. “Hello poet. Or should I say ‘mageling?’” She moved past him and slapped his shoulder, nearly buckling his knees. “Blue suits you.” The door slammed shut behind her.

“Ow. She really doesn’t like me,” Rhys complained, rubbing his shoulder.

“You are mistaken,” the dark elf said, joining them. “When she absolutely does not like someone, she happens to break both their arms.” He rubbed his elbows. “I’m Hagazz.”

“Haggis?” Rhys asked, bemused.

The dark elf groaned. “Ha-gazz. Proud orcish name. ‘Tearer of limbs.’”

Galdor snickered. “You wish.”

“Sorry,” Rhys stammered. “It’s such a strange name.”

Hagazz sighed, a sound coming from the deepest recesses of his soul. “Believe me, if I had a gold coin for every time someone tried to make fun of my name, I wouldn’t have to sell my skills to Thurguz.”

“Is it so bad?” Rhys asked.

“When the girls are spirited like today, yes. Brings back bad memories of all my female siblings piling on me. Can you imagine being the least wanted being under your roof?”

Rhys nodded emphatically. “You have no idea.”

“Oh.” Hagazz beamed. “Make it ten times worse and you have my life. It is hard enough for a dark elven female to get pregnant to begin with but after Mother had practically fucked everything, probably even including the pack lizards and finally got pregnant, only for her offspring to be male...”

“I don’t understand,” Rhys said.

“In our society, females are the dominant gender. The Chaos Queen only allows females to become clerics, and clerics have all the power Below. You really don’t want to be male in a dark elven city. You might enjoy a glorious day or two if you catch someone’s fancy – we’re famous for being incredible sluts-”

“Still training almost naked I see,” Galdor cut in. “Idunn won’t be happy about that.”

“Back home, we didn’t even use loincloths. Or padded weapons. Believe me, when my sisters had it in for me... , “ Hagazz muttered. There was a distinct stirring under his loincloth.

“Isn’t that very dangerous?” Rhys asked. “I mean, I’m no fighter, but-”

“Of course it is,” Hagazz said, picking up Hilgrun’s discarded weapon. “Even padded, this can easily break your fingers if you’re not careful. And that’s the whole point.” His eyes measured Rhys. “Thurguz or Idunn said when I can have you?”

Rhys took a step back. “Me? I- um ... I thought I’d become a spell caster!”

Galdor snickered. “And you should be able to defend yourself without magic. An enemy gets too close, interrupts your concentration and you’re dead.”

“In theory, you should never allow an enemy to get that close in the first place,” Hagazz said. “As such, once I am allowed to teach you, you should learn the ways of the knife and the quarterstaff. I’m sure Idunn and Thurguz won’t allow you to spar as much as I think is wise but you will at least be able to dispatch most fools who stray too close for comfort.”

“I’m ... looking forward to it,” Rhys said, suspiciously eyeing the bruises on Hagazz’ skin.

The door opened behind them and quick steps came closer. Rhys looked over his shoulder. Idunn bore down on them.

“Here you are. I have been looking all over for Rhys,” she growled. “Didin’t I tell you I don’t have all day?” Despite her short stature, her loud voice and imposing demeanor made her appear almost as tall as Rhys was.

“Sorry cousin,” Galdor said, slightly bowing his head. “Seems like we got stuck.”

“Well, at least you didn’t get him killed by Borna. That has to count for something.”

“Um, speaking of our glorious demon princess,” Hagazz began, pointing at his mangled thigh. “I wouldn’t mind a bit of healing ... since you’re already here-like...”

Idunn looked at the long, irregular wounds. Now that he was closer, Rhys thought they looked more like oozing burns than deep slashes. “I told you to wear padding when dealing with her,” the female dwarf snarled. She pulled a small flask from a pocket in her robe and handed it to Hagazz. The dark elf drank greedily and the wounds slowly closed.

“Thank you, dear colleague,” he purred, caressing down Idunn’s back and fondly cupping a butt cheek.

She slapped his hand away and turned to Rhys. Much gentler than he had expected, she laid a hand on his arm. “Let’s go already.”

“Sorry to cut short your tour,” Idunn said. “But you won’t miss much if you skip the ground floor. There’s mainly the entrance hall, rooms for servants and guests and all the places needed to keep us fed and warm.” She walked briskly up the stairs to the third floor, Rhys in tow.

“A question, if I may. Borna. I-,” Rhys threw his hands up, at a loss for words.

Idunn chuckled. “She is something else, isn’t she? Showed up one day at the front door of the tower, nearly starved to death and with wounds which would have killed an ordinary mortal.”

“What exactly is she?”

“No one quite knows. The only thing we’re certain of is that she is indeed a mortal, not a demon, despite her looks.”

“Hard to believe.”

“She told Thurguz and me that she was born a normal human. The transformation came later but so far she hasn’t opened up about it. All we know is that she is incredibly strong and resilient. Here we are.” Idunn opened a door to a training room.

To Rhys’ surprise, the eight-sided room already was occupied. Sitting on a low bench, wrapped in a sheer, green robe, was a silver-haired woman. She stood up when Idunn and Rhys entered. “You found him,” she said, her voice a melodious tinkle. She had incredible, amethyst eyes which caressed over Rhys. They reminded him of Mirrin, with their luster, their intensity. He forced air past a sudden lump in his throat. The silver-haired beauty was slightly shorter than him and very curvy. Not really plump, her limbs were too long and graceful. Standing right in front of him, he could see her nipples harden against the fabric of her dress.

“Hello,” she said, drawing his eyes to her face. “My name is Elara.” She hugged him enthusiastically and placed her cheek to his. “I’m here in case your burn yourself again.” Her hands travelled down his back, cupping his butt.

Idunn harrumphed. “If you keep that up, elf, he can’t concentrate.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mistress,” Elara sighed, slowly stepping away from Rhys. “I wanted to make him comfortable.” Her sparkling eyes went to his crotch. “I think it worked.”

Rhys blushed. “Um ... Hello. I’m Rhys.” Again, he looked her up and down. “Forgive me for asking, but elves ... aren’t they tall and slender?”

“Yes, as a whole, we are,” Elara said, gracefully taking her seat again and crossing her shapely legs. “Seems like my baby fat takes a few decades longer to melt away.” She shrugged. “No one has complained about my curves.”

“Except for you,” Idunn grumbled. “Well then. Enough idle chit-chat.”

With Elara around, the room seemed much less real than the already surreal tower. Rhys found his eyes darting her way time and time again, even when he tried to take in the remaining scenery. The floor of the eight-sided room was recessed towards the middle, covered with precisely carved stone plates. In the lowest part, a ten-foot double circle was inlaid into the stone, the space between the outer edges filled with runes. Rhys thought he’d seen some of them before. Around the room’s walls, assorted cabinets were arrayed, some with glass tops, others solid wood.