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“A wizard’s tower is his sanctum, a private place for research and respite. But, as this wizard is not home… I’d say we take a peek.”
Leanna glanced at Gale and smiled softly, seeing the smirk tugging at his lips and the excitement blazing in his eyes. She then looked back to make sure that the arcane cannons did not suddenly spring back to life – the one shot that she foolishly let herself absorb still reverberated in her ribs with a dull pain. Luckily, they remained dormant. It seemed that Karlach did a marvelous job.
Gale raised his head up and Leanna’s gaze followed, looking up to the top of the dilapidated tower. There was something somber and melancholic in seeing this once undoubtedly great structure in such a dejected state now. The arcane blue-grey lights around the tower illuminated the grey stone, betraying evidence of past majesty.
The door opened with a loud creak of the hinges and Karlach’s grinning face welcomed them. “Come in, come in,” she said, playfully bowing in an inviting gesture.
Leanna giggled and walked inside. “You did great, Karlach. Thank you. You saved my ass for sure. I wouldn’t fare well trying to storm this place with all the cannons still on.” She rubbed her side, still remembering where the arcane bolt had hit her.
“I have to admit, I am still a little… amazed that you were able to power down magical defenses so efficiently,” Gale mused, looking around, curiosity splayed on his face. “Did you have any trouble with it?”
“What do you think I am, only a pretty face?” Karlach protested, resting her hands on her hips. “I can solve an arcane puzzle every now and then,” she assured, narrowing her eyes.
“Yes, apparently so,” Gale nodded, smiling, “not to mention brute forcing your way through an array of arcane cannons firing at you from every direction.”
“I can RUN, okay. And I can jump. And then I can destroy a magical engine… power generator… thing,” she waved her hand dismissively.
“Of course,” Leanna agreed, “and you look amazing doing it.”
Karlach pointed a finger at her in concurrence and winked at her.
The group scattered, looking around; the chamber they entered was grand and imposing, despite the cobwebs and layers of dust covering every surface. Four stone pillars supported the structure, and its main focus was undeniably the marvelous elevator in the center of it; its floor glowed with blue arcane light, reflecting in the oval glass walls.
“Oh… oh… wow,” Gale murmured, looking at the construct. The slight gleam coming from the elevator reflected in his eyes as he approached it.
Leanna peered at him, raising a brow. “It’s not often you find yourself at a loss for words,” she smirked.
“Well, have you seen this thing?” Gale exclaimed with unconcealed awe and excitement in his voice, pointing to the elevator. “And it seems to be running!” he pondered as he stared intently at the machinery, rubbing his chin.
“Oh, it’s working,” Karlach assured him. “I took a ride from the lower level.”
“Goodness! Who knows how long it’s been sitting here, dormant, unused, and unattended, while the mechanism stayed in perfect working order. Wondrous,” he shook his head, examining the metal tubes surrounding the shaft.
“Didn’t Blurg mention that the owner of this tower was a cleric?” Shadowheart looked up from a traveller’s chest she was rummaging through.
“Yes, and a Mystran at that,” Leanna nodded.
“It seems unconceivable to me that a cleric would inhabit such an imposing tower and devote herself to if not developing, then for sure maintaining this… construction,” Shadowheart furrowed her brows. “How is this any proof of devotion to your god?”
“Ah, but you see,” Gale finally took his eyes off the elevator and brought them to Shadowheart, “Mystra does not expect her clerics to pay her lip service and do her whimsy bidding. They are still wizards. And they are guardians of the arcane, like she is. They care for the future of magic, explore the possibilities; they are encouraged to try and see what else can be… sewn from the Weave, so to speak.” His eyes were gleaming and his voice betrayed exhilaration as he continued. “This,” he looked around, pointing to the arcane lights above their heads and the elevator before them, “this is exactly what the goddess would approve of and expect of her faithful. The study of magic. It’s a marvel to behold, for sure.”
Leanna glanced at him, biting her lip. It was… conspicuous, how excited and emotive Gale was becoming the moment he started talking about magic and Weave. And Mystra.
“What kind of goddess is she, if she needs her clerics to toil and labor within her domain like that,” Shadowheart puffed.
“Is it any different than what Shar is asking of you?” Gale replied with a soft smile on his lips. “Aren’t you toiling and laboring for her through your mission?”
“It is not the same,” Shadowheart protested sharply, slamming the chest shut with a thud.
“PUH-LEASE,” Karlach interjected with a long sigh, stomping her feet in place a couple of times. “STOP. Mom, Dad, I can’t take this.”
Leanna couldn’t help but snort out a laugh. It seemed to diffuse the situation a bit; Shadowheart shot Gale one more cold glance before turning around and going off into a corner, most likely to continue to search through the absent cleric’s possessions. Gale laced his fingers behind his back and looked to Leanna, an amused smirk spread on his lips. She returned the smile, and then she too began to inspect the remaining items gathered in the room.
A couple of boxes and chests lay about, all covered with the same thick layer of dust. Karlach already started to eagerly go through them, ripping the lids off with her bare hands and peeking inside. She would exclaim “Oh yes!” every time she found anything of interest and piled her finds on the floor. It wasn’t much – some coin, a couple of clothing items, a scroll or two, and a handful of useless knick-knacks.
Leanna’s eyes wandered, to finally rest on a desktop sitting by one of the walls. She made her way over, noticing a stained book resting on top of it. She blew away the dust and inspected the contents of the tome; an encircled stanza caught her attention, the verses ominous and melancholic.
“Seems like the owner was quite the literary type,” she murmured, closing the book.
“Many wizards are,” Gale said from behind her back.
Leanna glanced at him over her shoulder. “Ah, you would know, of course,” she teased.
“Of course,” he bowed his head slightly. She smiled at that.
She moved up to a nearby door leading out to a small balcony. As she opened it, the arcane lights sparked up, illuminating the ornate mosaic on the stone floor. She examined the balcony, noticing a chest sitting in the corner; curious, she approached it and lifted the lid. A couple of common household items sat at the bottom, but there was something strange about the trunk – it seemed to hum ever so slightly, the energy seeping from it causing a gentle tingling in her fingertips.
“The chest… I can feel its magic,” she remarked, leaning in. She picked up a silver goblet from the trunk, and just then, it changed in her hand into a golden ingot. “Wait. Did that just transform?” she mused, surprised, studying the item she held. She put it away and reached into the chest again, and one by one, the mundane items transformed into scrolls and artifacts.
“By golly!” Gale exclaimed at the sight of it. “The chest seems to be enchanted!” To verify his theory, he picked up the golden ingot and tossed it inside the trunk. It became an inconspicuous goblet again. “Oh that is just splendid,” he shook his head in wonder. “That is remarkable.”
Leanna could not help but smile at the awe in his voice. Seeing him so delighted was comforting, causing warmth to spread through her.
“Come on, let’s get on that elevator and see what else we can find,” she proposed, tugging at his sleeve.
His face lit up. “Oh yes, let’s do that, yes,” he grinned, following her back inside. They made their way towards the elevator.
“Are you guys coming?” she addressed Karlach and Shadowheart, pointing to the glass construct.
“Oh fuck yes,” Karlach pocketed the small pouch that she was rifling through and made her way inside the elevator. Shadowheart joined them a few moments later and they all descended one floor. The ride down was brief, but Gale could not contain his approval of the magic-fueled machinery, nodding and smiling all throughout.
They stepped off into what looked like a combination of a workshop and greenhouse; outgrown mushrooms and spores leaned out of the numerous large pots, and many gardening supplies were scattered around. Leanna rifled through the racks and shelves standing between the pots; she found nothing of note, until her eyes rested on a threadbare book. She opened it to find most of the pages in ruin, but the one passage that she could read was poignant and melancholic, giving her a better sense of Lenore’s literary passion. She noticed that Gale was glancing over her shoulder to take a peek at the book as well, so she handed it to him. She then walked up to one of the pots and marveled at the glowing fungi growing out the moss-covered ground.
Gale joined her, standing beside her.
“So, is a green thumb also a wizard’s characteristic?” she glanced at him, allowing herself to smirk.
“Not necessarily, no,” he shook his head, “but, I will proudly admit, I do have a small garden where I tend to herbs and vegetables. There is nothing better to accompany a good roast than a blooming side salad composed from your own produce.”
“Ah, but of course you do,” she teased, laughing. “I wouldn’t expect anything less of you.”
“Glad not to disappoint,” he tipped an imaginary hat.
“I don’t think you could.”
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but ultimately he remained silent; his lips were still stretched in a smile, but the embers usually glowing in his eyes seemed to have dimmed. It appeared that her words struck a painful chord with him.
Leanna could feel her cheeks suddenly flush in embarrassment, so she lowered her head and turned around. “Come on, if we’re to find the mushrooms and spores that Omeluum needs, it will be here.” She returned to inspecting the shelves and various pots.
“Do you intend to go through with this?” Gale asked after a moment, joining her in the search. His voice was upbeat again, no sign of discomfort. She was glad for it.
“I don’t know,” she admitted, biting her lip. “I want to ensure that we even have that option first… But I don’t know. He is a mind flayer, after all,” she remarked somberly.
“Right,” was Gale’s only answer, as if understanding her doubt. “Well,” he added after a short pause, “if you don’t decide to go through with it, I’m certain Astarion will be delighted to have a go instead.”
Leanna chuckled. “Oh, for sure.”
They kept rummaging through the shelves until Shadowheart approached them and showed them her find – Tongue of Madness mushrooms and Timmask Spores, neatly packed into a pouch. “I believe this is what we need. I’m glad Lenore was diligently marking her harvest.”
“She was?” Gale asked, but without waiting for an answer he nodded, satisfied. “Of course she was.”
Shadowheart gave him a puzzled look, but Leanna looked at her with a smile and winked; the cleric caught on, not commenting further on Gale’s enthusiasm. “So what now?” she asked as she pocketed the pouch.
“Dare we go up?” Leanna raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, but we must,” Gale replied excitedly, quickly making his way back to the elevator.
The four of them got on and ascended two stories up, to reach what undoubtedly used to be Lenore’s personal space. Towering bookstands full of old, dusty tomes filled half the room; many of them were buried beneath rubble and stone. A desk sat in the corner, with various papers on top of it, along with a book and an inkpot and quill – almost as if the owner was about to return any moment. But the piles of debris and dirt all around told otherwise.
Gale approached one of the bookstands and his fingers started tracing the backs of the dusty tomes. He hummed as he pulled books from the shelves, one by one, opening them and flipping through, smiling and muttering under his breath. “Yes, yes, of course she would have it, that is a very important discourse,” he murmured, closing one book. “Oh, but of course, that was all the rage some ten years ago,” he commented on another.
Leanna looked at him over the book she herself was holding. “It seems that you are very… taken with Lenore’s library,” she smirked.
“What?” Gale asked, his eyebrows lifting. “What do you mean?”
“Are you crushing on Lenore, Gale?” Karlach gave him a big teasing grin.
“What?! Goodness, no,” Gale protested. “Can’t a wizard enjoy another wizard’s library without this kind of… insinuations?”
“Oh he can,” Leanna nodded, locking eyes with Karlach in amusement, “but does he?”
“Would you like to enjoy more than Lenore’s library, Gale?” Karlach playfully winked at him.
Gale slammed the book he was holding shut and tossed it on the desk. “If you decide to drop this, I will be over there,” he pointed to the opposite side of the room. Before he sauntered off, Leanna noticed that his cheeks were red, and she giggled, sharing a knowing look with Karlach. The tiefling chuckled, clearly satisfied with having teased Gale until he ran.
They returned to searching through Lenore’s room, each occupying a section of it. Leanna found a handful of curios and a couple of scrolls, but nothing particualrly notable.
“Oh damn,” Karlach gasped at some point, staring at a piece of paper on the desk. “Lenore was trying to befriend a bulette. I’m having a feeling this is the same bulette that we, uh… how to put it… sent to eternally rest.”
“Befriend a bulette?” Gale wrinkled his nose, looking up from the other side of the room. “That seems… odd.”
Shadowheart approached the desk and picked up the paper that Karlach was referencing. “Looks like she did. It seems that she lost her beloved dog, so perhaps sorrow pushed her towards a new… companion.”
Gale frowned, but he did not respond. Instead he returned to scouring through a shabby wardrobe.
Leanna examined a few more books, but it appeared that every single one she chose either contained sorrowful poetry, or touched on the sensitive subject of death and grief. She felt a stone form in her stomach, realizing that Lenore must have led a very alienating life.
Once they all decided that they were done with the floor, having looted all items of use, they stepped on the elevator again and ascended to the top. To their collective surprise, they found enchanted machinery there, seemingly still working, the mechanical parts buzzing; there was an automaton strolling around, and animated armors standing in the corners – dormant but clearly still powered. The whole room must have been a workshop where Lenore tinkered with her creations, broken parts strung about.
When the automaton approached them, it stopped and asked:
“New sounds through dark and damp oppression break. Is it the foe, that foul, contemptuous heel?”
Leanna realized that she knew the words – she read them downstairs, in one of Lenore’s books. She focused and recalled one of the passages.
“How can I trust? How will I ever know? How can I show myself, my darkest me?" she answered the automaton, which caused it to simply stroll away and produce a ring from one of its sockets. It placed the item on the table sitting by one of the walls.
Gale frowned. “Don’t get me wrong, I love poetry as much as the next wizard, but using it to command an automaton… seems a bit self-indulgent to me,” he muttered, a hint of disappointment in his tone.
Karlach chuckled, but Leanna did not reply, instead she searched her memory for another verse that she could possibly tell to the automaton. She was curious to see what else it could do.
“The silence stretches on, I'm all alone. Please, can I hold your hands, for just a while?” she recited, watching the machine closely, mindful of its next steps.
“Of course, my love. Don’t be afraid, sweet girl,” it replied. “What can I do? Say, would you like a hug?”
Karlach gasped. “Do it!” she cheered.
“Yes, please,” Leanna replied, intrigued.
“Come here, for just a moment. Let it out.” The automaton leaned in and encircled its metal arms around Leanna. The hug was tight and uncomfortable, clearly meant for someone of smaller stature, shorter than her. “Remember, you are loved Lenore. So much,” it continued. “You’re doing great. And everyone will be so proud of you. As I already am.”
Once it finished, the automaton once again strolled away, rising its metal legs high, the magic inside its chest spinning the gears with clinking and humming.
“Bizarre,” Shadowheart murmured.
There was one more passage that Leanna recalled. She approached the automaton once again and recited:
“There is a light in every living thing. It's crawling t'wards the surface to survive.”
At this command the automaton pulled a halberd that previously sat secured on its back and took a fighting stance. The animated armors in the corners of the room did the same.
“Uh-oh,” Karlach said, taking her own greataxe into her hands, “You’ve pissed him off. He didn’t like that one,” she joked, making two little jumps in place before launching at the automaton.
After a short fight all of the machines lay broken in pieces on the floor, the magic that held them in place for whoever knows how long now quickly fizzling away. Leanna could not help but feel sadness at seeing Lenore’s creations destroyed, especially the automaton that was taught to give its creator hugs and reassure her in moments of doubt.
“Let’s just go,” Gale said quietly, securing his quarterstaff on his back and looking away from the machine parts, towards the elevator. “A wizard’s quite useless with a tired mind. I think some rest is in order.”
Leanna woke up to see the campfire blazing; someone must have fueled it with wood recently. She sat up in her bedroll and looked around; the glowing flora of the Underdark and the orange firelight illuminated their camp, allowing her to notice that Gale’s bedroll was empty. After quickly making sure that nothing else was out of order, she quietly got up. The cold air of the Underdark hit her arms and face as soon as she left the warmth of her bedroll, so she threw her cloak on before walking away.
She found him sitting on a stone formation with his back turned to her. He was facing a large chasm, glowing vegetation growing at the edge of it; it seemed to be a warning, this bright light serving as a reminder of the precipice that lay right beyond.
“Can’t sleep?” she asked quietly, approaching the wizard.
He looked up at her. “Something like that.”
“Can I join you?” she asked as she stood next to him. She brushed stray hair away from her face, still tangled from sleep.
“Of course,” he replied, making room for her on the stone slab.
She sat down, noticing that he only had his shirt on – there was no way he wasn’t feeling the brisk cool air that surrounded them. Without saying a word, she unpinned her cloak and threw it around him, so that they sat under it together.
Gale smiled and nodded. “Thank you.”
Her eyes wandered around the stone canopy above them. It stretched so high up that it disappeared in the shadows, and in moments like this one, when she was tired and sleepy, she was able to fool herself that the open sky was somewhere up there. She could not wait until they moved on from there.
“Did you think I ran away?” he asked, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“No,” she shook her head, “when you run away, I expect there to be a long, long letter. And maybe a poem for good measure.”
“Oh yes,” he nodded, “there will definitely be a poem.”
She giggled and huddled a little closer to him, making sure that her side of the cloak covered her arm and thigh.
“So, what’s wrong?” she asked, glancing at the chasm before them. Why was he here, she wondered? Was the void calling his name?
He stirred under the cloak, a sigh escaping him. “I’m not sure.”
“Do you want to try?” she encouraged, her voice soft.
He looked at her and she met his gaze; his eyes seemed darker than usual, his face more sallow. The scorched vestige of his curse that trailed from his eye to his chest appeared more prominent than ever.
“It’s Lenore,” he said quietly. “I can’t stop thinking about her.”
Leanna blinked, not quite sure what to make of this. She waited for him to continue.
“When we entered her home… It was all so marvelous, she used magic in such an inspired way, I was amazed by it. Her tower reminded me of mine, and it made me feel… well, homesick. But it was a good feeling, you know?”
He adjusted on the stone and flipped his side of the cloak, turning it over. After a moment, he continued.
“As we… rummaged through her possessions, which, by the way, we both know is a great invasion of privacy –,” he smirked, pressing a finger to the tip of his nose, “– I felt a connection to her. I saw myself in her. She reminded me that being a hermit wizard in their tower is not a bad thing. More than that – that it actually is wonderful. You get to study magic and create, all with the goddess’ blessing.”
The mention of the goddess made Leanna’s heart beat a little faster, but she remained silent. She wasn’t Mystra’s fan, considering all the revelations, but she knew better than to blaspheme against the Mother of all Magic.
“And I thought, yes, this is it. Even if I expire tomorrow, even if the orb takes me and I cease to be… This is what I would have left. My tower, my legacy. All the work that I have done.” For a moment he seemed enlivened, enthusiastic. But that notion quickly fizzled away. “But then you saw what happened to her. You saw her books. Yes, she had a great deal of important philosophical and magic oriented dissertations in her library, but even more of what she had was sad, depressing poetry and books about dying. Not to mention the pet bulette,” he laughed nervously and shook his head.
“So there’s nothing I will be remembered for, is there,” he conceded, looking down at his hands. His voice became quiet. “Only the doom I brought upon myself. Only that… black, vile curse that I carry.” He pressed his palm to his chest, closing his eyes for a few beats. He seemed so sad, so broken. She could barely stand it. “I thought her to be an exemplary scholar. I thought this is exactly what all wizards should strive to be. But where did that take her? To perish at the hands of her automaton, with nobody to remember her. She took her own life, alone. Like I seem destined to.”
“No,” Leanna opposed, feeling herself frown. “That’s not what happened.”
He gave her a puzzled look in response.
“Lenore did not do that.”
“She did,” Gale insisted, “you saw it for yourself. She had a command for it. And now she’s gone.”
“No. The command might have been there, but she did not use it. And you have no way of knowing that was its purpose.”
“All the evidence points to it,” he noted somberly. "You saw the books, you saw the letters."
Leanna swallowed, focusing her eyes on his profile; he was looking ahead, into the chasm. She felt a burning desire to reach and brush the hair from his face, tuck it behind his ear – but she stopped herself, of course, too ashamed to act on these feelings. Still, her heart was racing, pained at seeing him like this.
“No, Gale,” she spoke softly. “That’s not what happened. I found a note outside, before we even entered the tower. She left in some urgent matter, but she intended to come back.” Gale’s eyes turned to her as he listened. “And more importantly, she loved someone, she loved someone very much, and she asked them to wait for her. Whatever happened to her, it wasn’t that. It wasn’t.” She reached with her shaking hand and put it on top of Gale’s; his skin was cold from the chilly air of the never-ending night of the Underdark. She curled her warm fingers around his.
“Lenore might have been a hermit, she might have been a crazed wizard in her tower,” she smiled lightly as she said it, and Gale did too, “but that did not take away from her humanity. Figuratively speaking, of course, because judging by that hug from the automaton, she was not a human. Good for her.”
They both let out a soft laugh before Leanna continued. “And I’m telling you, Gale of Waterdeep, you are so much more than your curse. You are also so much more than your magic. Whenever your day comes, be that tomorrow or in a hundred years, you will have left so much of yourself.” She reached for his other hand and held it too, stroking his skin with her thumbs. “You are witty, and you are funny, and you are smart and wise, but not stuck up about it. Well,” she titled her head and stuck out her tongue, “not too stuck up about it.”
Gale snorted out a laugh and shook his head, amused.
“I so enjoy talking with you. You are unique, and you have a great mind, filled with so much knowledge – yet what I adore about you even more is your compassionate heart. You have so much love to give, Gale, and you are so kind.” Her cheeks flushed as she realized that she had crossed some sort of line, that she was now saying out loud what she didn’t let herself consider in too much detail before. “And I will remember you, I will remember you for who you are, for what you taught me, for what you showed me. I will remember you for all the lanceboard games we played, I will remember you for all the amazing meals you cooked, I will remember you for every fascinating story that you told me. I will remember you for every battle that I fought at your side.”
Her hand was shaking as she reached out and touched his face, ever so gently, brushing his hair away. He closed his eyes when her warm fingers stroked his temple.
“But be sure,” she said quietly, her voice suddenly raspy, “there’s still so much ahead of you. You still get to do so much with your life. You don’t owe it to anybody. Not even your goddess. It is yours.”
He was looking at her, and she could see his eyes were gleaming, the golden brown of his irises bright and brilliant. He reached for her hand and took it into his; he brought it to his lips and laid a kiss on her fingers, and then on her palm. She shuddered when his soft lips met her skin.
“I will remember you, too,” he whispered, laying one last kiss on the inside of her wrist, where the strong pulse betrayed how much her heart was thumping.
She realized that the cloak had slipped from their shoulders and was now lying on the stone behind them – but she wasn’t cold. There was warmth in her heart and scorching heat in her stomach, and her face burned as she looked at him, her cheeks red and tingling.
He did not seem to be cold either.