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“How is she?”
Batu hurried over to the small cot upon which their daughter lay. Delgerzaya looked up, her face taut with worry.
“Her fever is high. She woke up a few times and I got her to drink some broth, but it’s not enough.” Delgerzaya looked back at the girl and wiped the sweat from her forehead, grimacing at the heat. “It’s not enough,” she said again, quietly.
Batu turned away and swung his fist at the table, pulling back just before it slammed down. “That damn witch. First he tells us to put up ginger wards to keep out the plague. Then our daughter gets sick anyway, and he sends me on a fetch quest to collect the “special mushrooms” he needs for the remedy, like some sort of adventurer.” He spat the final word in disgust.
This argument again. As her daughter’s condition worsened, Delgerzaya was consumed with anxiety, barely taking care of herself as she tried to take care of the girl. Batu, powerless to fight the infection himself, lashed out around him in frustration. Delgerzaya was too tired for this.
“And who was it that set your leg when that cart slipped from the jack and into you?” she reminded him.
Batu muttered something she didn’t catch, and his shoulders slumped. “I’ll talk to him again tomorrow.”
“How is she?”
Batu returned even earlier from his shop today. Delgerzaya didn’t look up this time and just shook her head.
“Her fever is getting worse. She only woke up once, for some water. Did you go to the healer on your way home?”
“Bah,” Batu replied. “Better. A traveling merchant came by the shop today for supplies. You know the mage that lives in the tower a day’s ride from here? Well, the merchant knows her, and since he’s going that way already, he’s willing to bring us to get her help.”
Now Delgerzaya turned to face him and frowned. “You don’t trust the village healer, but you’re willing put our daughter’s life in a stranger’s hands?” she asked.
“Herbal remedies are fine for cuts and allergies,” Batu said. (“Mushrooms aren’t herbs,” Delgerzaya thought to herself.) “But the merchant said this mage specializes in human health and disease magic! She’ll actually be able to help us!”
Delgerzaya face darkened. “Fine. She’s not improving anyway. We’ll go see this mage and find if she can really do all you claim.”
“Ah.” Batu squirmed; he knew Delgerzaya would like this part the least. “The merchant only has two seats in his cart. He can only bring me and our child.” As Delgerzaya opened her mouth to argue, Batu interjected, “Zayaa, my love. As long as I’m with her, she’ll be safe. I swear it. We leave at dawn.”
Delgerzaya knew it wasn’t worth arguing when Batu got like this. He had something concrete he could do to fix this. She smiled tersely and went to pack him a bag.
They had been traveling for many hours already. The merchant, another tall-man named Amar, didn’t speak much. From what Batu could gather, in addition to the normal goods that Amar peddled along the Eastern Archipelago, he would occasionally return home to the Southern Continent to see what magical news and artifacts he could collect. They were usually of gnomish make, of course, but now and then he could find something imported all the way from the Western Continent.
Batu was fine with the silence. Other than one bag in the wagon, the only thing he was carrying was his daughter in his arms. She hadn’t woken up a single time during their travel, and Batu’s heart was heavy. As the day stretched on, Batu knew he was gambling everything on this unknown mage’s skill. If she couldn’t help, he didn’t think they could get back home before it was too late. Delgerzaya would never forgive him for that.
As the wagon crested the hill, the mage’s tower rose into view. Batu’s eyes widened in shock. He was expecting a building, not a dungeon.
Batu didn’t think he said anything aloud, but Amar glanced over and smiled. “Yep, that’s it,” the merchant said. “It’s not much of a dungeon, really. It’s just one floor and the tower sticking out of it. Not sure how she managed that, but you know how mages are.”
Batu didn’t, and decided he didn’t want to, either. “Is it really safe to go in there?” he managed to ask.
“Like I said, it’s a small dungeon, and a natural one to boot,” Amar replied. “None of that nonsense common in mainland dungeons. If I recall correctly, the only predators are giant cats, and they don’t go near the tower anyway,” he added reassuringly.
As they neared the dungeon, Batu got a better look at the structure. Like Amar had said, the tower was actually coming up from a fenced-off pit in the ground. What had appeared to be a bridge across the opening leading to a gate was really an upper floor balcony with massive arched windows.
Amar brought the wagon to a halt ten meters from the edge of the pit. Batu retrieved his bag and still-sleeping child, and nervously approached the balcony. Within the pit, he thought he saw the tips of trees reaching for the sky, but none that escaped the dungeon. Only the tower managed that. He couldn’t see where the trees touched the ground.
As soon as he placed a foot on the balcony, the windows on that level swung open, and a woman strode out. She was wearing an ornate dress in a Western style. Batu froze, his mouth open in shock. He had thought he had steeled himself to meet a mage, but the last thing he expected to see was an elf.
“Why do you approach my tower, tall-man?” the elf boomed out in Common. “This is not a place for… Oh!”
Suddenly realizing what Batu carried in his arms, the elf dashed forward. “What happened? What’s wrong?” Without the overwhelming volume of her voice, Batu’s fear abated, and he caught the lilt of the elvish accent in her speech.
Somewhat self-conscious of his own rough voice and less-than-perfect grasp of Common, Batu stammered out, “My daughter. She’s very sick. We haven’t… No one’s been able to help, and she’s getting worse.” He looked down, ashamed of his failure as a father to keep her healthy.
“I see, I see,” the elf said. “Come inside. I see Amar recommended my services,” glancing at the wagon with a brief smile. “Let me see what I can do.”
As they passed through the open windows, the illusion apparently creating the elf’s dress fell away to reveal a rather plainer and more practical one. “My name is Veera,” she introduced herself. “If this is the new strain that’s been spreading here, I haven’t had much time to study it yet. The locals don’t like to visit, and they certainly wouldn’t let me borrow the bodies when they’re done.”
She smiled like that last part was a joke, and Batu started to regret coming to her.
“But!” she continued, either ignoring or missing his reaction, “I can certainly look at your daughter. First, tell me everything so far: what symptoms, when did they start, what other treatments and magic have you tried?”
As Batu spoke, Veera seemed to write notes in an elvish script in midair, the glowing runes disappearing as soon as her finger moved onto the next one. She led him deeper into the tower, asking three follow-up questions for each one that he answered. At last she seemed satisfied. She took the child into her arms and disappeared into one of the countless identical rooms they had passed, dismissing Batu with a warning not to enter any locked rooms, and absolutely not to leave the tower alone.
With nothing else to do but wait, Batu began exploring the tower. All of the rooms he was able to enter seemed completely normal: living room, dining room, washing room. At some point he realized he had lost his bag while hurrying along behind Veera; the next room he checked was a bedroom, and his bag was sitting on the dresser. When he grew hungry, he found a door leading to dining room laid out for dinner, the food still hot.
Most of the doors were locked.
Batu quickly grew tired of this. He was not an adventurous man; he liked finding out how things worked by taking them apart by hand, and usually left anything more abstract than that to other people. He returned to the bedroom, but spent most of his time there worrying, and slept fitfully. He did not see the mage – or his daughter – on the second day. That night, he heard the giant cats yowling in the distance, and began to wonder if he’d ever return home.
The following morning, though, Veera summoned him. Or he assumed she had summoned him: after he had washed and eaten, he had opened the door not onto the hallway like usual, but into a new room. This one was not like any of the others he had seen: it smelled sharp, like some of the tinctures the village healer made, and something in the air made the hair on his arms stand on end.
Veera stood in the room with her back to the door, once again writing something in the air. By her side was a low platform, on top of which lay a bundle of cloth. As Batu entered, she dropped her hand and turned to him. “Ah, Batu,” she said, smiling. “Good morning!”
When she spoke, the cloth - no, the pile of blankets - shifted. Batu’s eyes widened and he darted forward.
“I have some good news to share,” Veera said. “Your daughter is alive and well. The disease …”
Batu tuned her out. Your daughter is alive. As he crossed to the platform, the child, his child, shifted in the blankets and sat up. She looked at him and blinked.
Batu stopped. Something was wrong with the shape of her face, how she looked at him.
“… her body was too weak …” Veera continued.
Recognition crossed the girl’s face and she perked up. As she did, her ears pointed upwards in pleasure, and a furred tail raised and curled behind her.
“ … able to transfer her essence …”
Batu turned and ran.
Present day
She holds a claw to the elf mage’s throat. The elf’s companions freeze.
“Get on the ground,” she orders. “If any of you make a move, I’ll kill her. And you,” she commands the elf, “break this curse on me.”
The elf sputters. The other adventurers try to de-escalate the situation. “Of course we’ll help you,” the tall-man says. “Just don’t hurt her.”
“What’s yer name?” asks the dwarf.
She pauses for a moment. Should she give them that name? she thinks. No. If this works, she’ll finally be free.
She says, “My name is Izustumi."