The Wandering Spire

In the countryside of Narcadia, a province within the Golden Empire, there was a modest Wizardry School. It was not famous, and the only people who knew it existed lived in the scattered farming villages surrounding it. Every year, the villagers would send their wisest teenagers to apply. The three Old Crones that ran the school were picky on who they allowed to study within the chipped stoned walls of their campus. Most applicants were rejected and sent packing back to their homes.

Only those who were invited by the Old Crones could enter the school, and the campus was protected by layers of runic enchantments. Unwelcomed guests were afflicted with a curse that turned them to stone. It was rumored that the Old Crones adorned their hallways with the statues of would-be intruders. None but the selected students dared to enter except Jeze.

Jeze was the whip-smart, twelve-year-old daughter of farmers. Unfortunately, she was too young to apply to the Old Crones' school. Her older brother, Daverius, was an accepted student. He was four years her senior, and before his acceptance, every night, Daverius read tomes on magical theory in his room after he completed his chores on the farm. Jeze studied with him, and he instructed her on what he knew.

"The basics to magic are the Runes. You must learn to read and write them, and to write them is a form of art. It takes daily practice," Daverius told his younger sister in his gentle voice. He was a kind older brother.

Jeze had dark, unkempt hair and a small, wiry body that was corded with muscle from working on the farm and training with her older brother. Daverius studied with the Old Crones during the day and exercised with Jeze in the evenings. She had completed her chores and ran to the Wizardry School and was earlier than usual. The sun slowly began its descent and cast an orange-red glow over the golden rolling hills of Narcadia.

Jeze crouched by the chipped stone wall and bit her lip as she searched for the Runes in the dim light her brother had instructed her about. She gave a cheer of glee when she discovered them. Jeze reached into her pocket and took out a burnt stick from an old Ash tree. Earlier, she had whittled the stick so that it had a sharp point. From her other pocket, she retrieved a small jar filled with amber resin mixed with honey. Jeze had worked weeks to gather the materials to craft the resin in a ceramic crucible just as it was instructed in the ancient tomes her brother read. The resin allowed her to manipulate the magical glyphs.

Jeze dipped the pointed stick into her jar and carefully altered a single Rune. She felt the energy tingle up her arm, and if she made a mistake, she would be cursed into stone. Jeze was deliberate and careful, and in moments, she felt the magic snap shut. She was free to pass through! Jeze scaled the stone wall and into the courtyard, where she crept through the shadows toward her brother's room. She wore a clever grin as she anticipated the surprise on her brother's face. This was her first time entering the compound without his aid.

Daverius stayed in a tower on the third floor. The building was made of gray worked stone with shaped holes that were its windows. The stone was chipped and worn from age and made for easy handholds that Jeze used to climb up. She parted the heavy curtain and entered Daverius's room. She was surprised at what she saw.

Daverius was of average height with broad shoulders from exercise and years working on a farm. He had the same dark eyes as Jeze, and his hair was cropped short. He wore a dark blue traveling cloak and was strapping on a belt that held a sheathed sword with a worn handle. It was an old blade that her brother had purchased from a retired soldier. It was no secret that Daverius dreamed of entering the Wandering Spire and trained with magic and sword for that purpose.

The Spire was a tower that appeared every five and a half years where the gift of immortality resided at the very top. Adventurers, treasure hunters, and mercenaries from all around the world attempted to scale its treacherous floors filled with monsters and traps. Daverius appeared shocked when he saw his sister.

"I was coming to see you," He said as he returned to packing.

"You, you are leaving?" Jeze stammered.

Daveirus nodded and tapped his journal. "I know the location of the Wandering Spire! It will appear during the next full moon in the lands of the Tribal Council. It is far, and I have to travel now if I wish to make it in time for the Trials."

The Wandering Spire materialized in a different area and never in the same spot twice. Jeze heard that the tower was so immense that it was impossible to restrict all the entrances to the first floor.To avoid unnecessary conflict, all the nations, clans, and kingdoms have agreed to mark its location, wherever it appeared, as a neutral territory. Each floor of the Wandering Spire was rumored to be more treacherous than the previous floor and it was impossible to venture it alone. Having a team was necessary, and in an attempt to find suitable team members the Adventurer's Guild created the Trials as a way to gauge each applicant's level and abilities.

"But, what of your studies here at the school?" Jeze asked, her voice cracked.

"I have learned all that I could from the Old Crones."

Jeze's eyes began to water as the realization set in. Her brother was leaving her, and it may be years before she saw him again.

"I don't want you to go!" She cried.

Daverius smiled gently as he walked over to her. He was a good head taller and crouched so that he could look up into her eyes.

"I will explore the Wandering Spire! I may not make it to the top where the gift of immortality resides, but it is rumored that even the lower levels are filled with treasures beyond imagination," he explained.

"But it's dangerous. You could die!" Jeze exclaimed.

"I have trained for this. I am prepared," Daverius responded as he stood and hoisted his heavy traveling pack.

"Did you talk to Mom and Dad?" Jeze asked quietly.

"They know. Think Jeze, what we can do with that treasure! You can attend a real Wizardry school in the capital! Mom and Dad can work less and hire help. It is worth the risk," Daverius replied and ruffled her hair.

Jeze reflected on how her brother was always thinking about her and the family. He attempted the Wandering Spire for reasons other than for himself. They hugged, and that was the last time Jeze saw her brother.

5 years later

Jeze stood in the same room in the tower within the Old Crone's Wizardry school where her brother had lived. She was an accepted student and maintained the disciplined routine her brother had. During the day, Jeze studied Runes under the Old Crone's strict tutelage, and in the evenings, she trained with weapons and worked on her fitness.

She was a little taller but still considered small, with a strong athletic body that was forged from working on a farm and climbing walls. She did not train in the sword, like her brother, but instead opted for the smaller hand ax, which she had two resting at her hips and a long knife sheathed at her back. The ax served as a tool, as a weapon, and it can be thrown. She appreciated the additional utility the ax had to offer over the sword. She was all about utility.

In the late afternoon, she completed her Runic studies and prepared to scale down the side of the tower. In the evenings she trained with Raynor the Old Hunter. The grizzled elder showed her how to throw the hand ax and use it alongside the dagger in combat. In exchange, Jeze instructed Raynor on how to scribe Runes. Her physical exercise was climbing and jogging to where Raynor lived in a nearby wooded grove.

"I am starting to feel like you're cheating me," Raynor grumbled later that day.

Jeze had struck the center of the target with ease several times in a row. All the while, the Old Hunter was unable to cast a simple cantrip to start a fire. The two were outside in a glade that was in front of the hunter's small wooden cabin. The sun was setting, and dusk was rapidly approaching. Jeze was throwing axes that thudded into a log target with a red-painted bullseye. Raynor knelt by the fire pit that was beside her. On a long stick, he had meticulously carved runes into it and was attempting to complete the incantation by shaping the final glyph in the air.

Jeze nodded in understanding. There was a significant difference in the learning curve for throwing axes versus Rune writing. She paused her training to examine Raynor's work. It was crude and almost right. She unsheathed her knife and gently corrected the markings with the blade's sharp point. Magic was a fickle force that required perfection. She was about to complete the final glyph by shaping it in the air, but paused. It would be best if Raynor did it, she reflected and handed the hunter the stick.

"Try now," she said.

Raynor's bushy eyebrows bunched in skepticism, but the Old Hunter grumbled and gave an attempt. The tip of the stick brightly sparked and ignited the kindling within the fire pit.

"By the Night's Eye!" Raynor exclaimed with excitement.

"Very good!" Jeze cried and clapped her hands.

"This makes no bloody sense! But it worked! By the heavens, girlie, this will make the cold nights easier on my old bones," Raynor said.

The Old Hunter paused to study his work and the corrections Jeze had made. "Hmpf, where did I go wrong?"

Jeze leaned over and pointed out the slight errors he made with the markings.

"That's it? Bloody eye! Magic is a fickle lass," Raynor growled as he glared up at the moon.

In Narcadia, the Moon was often referred to as the Night's Eye and was worshiped by hunters and woodsfolk.

Jeze grinned and slapped Raynor on the shoulder. "That it is, but lucky for you, you old goat. The rune writing is the easy part. Channeling the energy is the hardest, but you are plenty stubborn."

"Watch your tongue girlie. Speak with respect to your elders," Raynor said, but mirth gleamed in his squinty eyes.

Jeze laughed that sounded like songbirds chirping in spring. Raynor had strong willpower, and she suspected it was needed to survive in the harsh wilderness. That was what made him able to complete the incantation.

"So, with the Runes you taught me. Anything else I can do with them?" Raynor asked.

"Like what?"

Raynor sighed. "I'm not young anymore. I can't carry a full deer back as quickly as I used to. Is there a way I can preserve the meat a little longer?"

Jeze tapped her chin and pondered. She studied the Runes she had shown the Old Hunter. He struggled with learning the dozen required for the Spark cantrip. The amount of Runes that existed was nearly endless, and not even the Old Crones knew them all. New spells and energies were constantly being discovered. But there had to be a pattern with the twelve Raynor learned that could lead to a spell that preserved meat. Jeze dreaded having to teach him to draw new ones. Each glyph was a complex pattern of lines, swirls, and dots.

"I will have to look through the tomes to find out, but in the meantime, keep practicing the ones I showed you, and do not lose this stick!" Jeze ordered with a firm waggle of her finger.

"No need to trouble yourself, girlie. You showed this old goat plenty as it is. I know you plan to follow your hard-headed brother's footsteps. Don't waste your time on my account," Raynor said. His knees cracked and popped as he rose up.

Jeze's smile and mirth faded away like ice before the heat. She still didn't know where the Wandering Spire would appear this time, and she only had a few months to find out, if she wanted to make the Trials.

"I will be spending the next few nights researching in the library. If I come across anything that helps you, I will show you," she quietly promised.

Raynor studied the young woman for a moment and nodded. "Aye, I suppose I can ask around when I trade furs in the city. Mayhaps I'll encounter an Adventurer that can point the way."

Jeze bowed and replied, "I appreciate that. You have done more than enough for me."

The Old Hunter had taught her to wrestle like a bear and how to use the ax and dagger to weave and bite like the wolf. Also, how to throw an ax to hunt small game and to kill a foe. To prove her point, she pulled out an ax and threw it in one smooth motion with a perfect step and forward swing of her arm. The blade thudded the dead center of the target.

"Not bad, girlie. I wish I worked runes as good as you can throw," Raynor observed.