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The game was getting more intense.
The two players' attention was fixed on a solitary tower, isolated on an island with a broken bridge. One the players was looking rather smug, the other was thinking hard.
How to get her favourite piece moving again?
"What do you think she's planning?" stage whispered a very young Dwarf to the fellow Paragon next to him.
"Hmm? No idea" was the reply from the stocky Paragon Varen. He was rather distracted by a large Newt on the other side of the table. His eyes had a look of curiosity and hunger while his mind was wondering if the creature tasted like Nug.
He had his knife, fork and special sauce ready.
Meanwhile the female in question was considering all the possibilities of a successful, and noon-fatal, escape attempt from the tower.
The odds were pretty slim on all of her ideas.
But then again when had that stopped her?
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"Now today class we will be practicing fire spells." Announced Ms. Nightingale, who having taught this class before and lived to tell the tale had worn two of her most fire resistant robes and had multiple cold runes added to her staff.
There was excited murmuring for all of her young charges and a petulant sulky look from her oldest pupil.
Rincewind knew he was a terrible Wizard, he had known it all his life. Back home this was tolerated, indeed outside the Unseen University this was often considered a good thing considering the number of magical disasters there had been. What he hated most about this tower (apart from the food, the itchy robes, the sleeping quarters, the antiquated lavatory system and the constant threat of death by Templar) was the belief that this could somehow be fixed with lots of training. The fact that he had to fail in front of a class of children was, in his opinion, just rubbing it in.
"Now the important thing about fire spells is control" began Ms. Nightingale adding emphasis while eyeing some of her more… wayward charges.
Rincewind's mind was already wondering to his predicament of escaping the Tower. Sadly all of the normal plans were out of the question. He had no money for bribes or incriminating evidence for blackmail. The old 'dressing up as a serving wench and sneaking out the kitchen' was a non starter. All the kitchen staff were tranquil mages, who of course lived in the tower themselves. Next he attempted the tried and tested 'seduce the guard' routine, unfortunately this only resulted in helmeted death glares from the few female Templars, and he dare not risk it on any of their male comrades. As for his remaining ideas they were hopeless or, to use the local slang, 'a Jowan'. Apparently it was named after mage who had such a terrible, totally farfetched plan, though ironically he had still managed to escape. There was hope for Rincewind yet.
By the time Rincewind gone though all of this in his head the rest of his class was already practicing their fire spells against some straw-filled sacks propped up against the wall. Ms. Nightingale moved up and down the line providing praise, advice and healing where it was needed.
"Well done Hermione that shows excellent control, good aim there Harry… Neville! Oh dear… well that should heal well enough."
Right, Fire Spells thought Rincewind wracking his brain trying to remember any of the training he had received in this world or his own. Of course nothing sprang to mind so he pointed his hands at the sack in front of him and tried to look like he was concentrating. Even after all these weeks Rincewind wasn't quite sure if Ms. Nightingale didn't notice he was an adult or she just found it amusing to pretend. Either way if there was one thing worse than being unable to perform magic in front of the class it was being scolded for it so he gave it his best shot.
Better that he (or anyone else for that matter) had any reason to expect in fact. For you see fire spells, in any world, are rather temperamental and there are certain things that they should never be mixed with.
One of those things is a violent sneeze.
Rincewind was blasted about six feet of the ground and hit the nearest table, momentarily stunned. The rest of the class were also knocked off their feet. The ringing silence and blinding dust was quickly followed by pandemonium; yelling, screaming, crying and loss of bladder control. Chaos descended, though no one was seriously hurt. Ms Nightingale struggled to her feet and attempted to take charge of the situation but the dust made it almost impossible to see anything.
Rincewind stirred and blearily looked around. The first thing his brain noticed was the room was much lighter than before, even through the slowly clearing dust.
Sunlight
The Wizard may not have been a great magic user but if there was one thing he prided himself on it was recognising an escape route when he saw it. He ran. Luckily the hole he created in the wall was ten foot high and six foot wide so he got outside without a problem even as his classmates recovered and the Templars raced to investigate.
Unluckily there was still the problem of the tower being on an island with only one boat and a broken bridge.
Rincewind's shoulders slumped, he have to swim for it.
Had he stayed in the tower longer he might well have heard some of the dire warnings about what happened to some of the mages who had attempted this crossing. Years of dumping potions in the lake can have some interesting effects on the local wildlife after all. As it was Rincewind was completely unaware of such stories. If he were he might well have decided that the tower wasn't so bad after all.
Blissfully ignorant Rincewind waded into the icy and started doggy paddling to freedom. This did not last long; after five minutes he got nowhere and was utterly exhausted. In hindsight swimming in woollen robes had been a mistake but one set of clothes had already been lost on this adventure and he was dammed if he'd lose another. In addition to this problem the Templars were now fully aware of the escape attempt and were along the shoreline stripping out of their heavy armour to pursue. Rincewind looked back and realised that he might have to surrender, if only to avoid drowning.
Then the Templars stopped and stared.
Rincewind stared back unsure what to make of this and failed to notice the large silhouette beneath him.
The fish which emerged had been known about since the end of the last age; exactly why it was twenty foot long and had three eyes had been a source of fascination for a few scholars and any curious travellers. Most of the locals simply blamed magic and left it at that. For Rincewind, who would spend the next six hours clinging on to an oversized dorsal fin while screaming for help, swearing and cursing every conceivable being who might be responsible for this it was irreverent, at least until he could have his revenge.
Nevertheless he was out and the legend of the Howling Fish Mage would be used to frighten disobedient lakeside children for generations to come.
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"I hate it when you do that" said a middle aged man, his pitch black eyes narrowing.
The woman opposite smiled serenely. Those around her applauded.
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Knight Commander Greagoir looked at the gaping hole in the side of the tower. The Circle had almost being destroyed by demons and now had three successful escape attempts; he was not having a good year.
"How in the name of the Maker did this happen?" He demanded, a vein pulsing in his temple.
The Templars around him looked remarkably sheepish for armoured warriors and avoided eye contact.
"None of us expected that kind of magic from him." Said Ser Stannis, eventually stepping forward "He must have been playing the long game; lulling us into a false sense of security waiting for the perfect moment to strike. This Rincewind is clearly a very powerful and cunning Maleficar."
The Templars all nodded in agreement, no other answer was possible, or acceptable.
"Indeed, he must be hunted. Who knows what damage he could do? Especially with the country as chaotic as it is in these dark times." The Knight Commander looked more composed now, he could still avert disaster.
Until he noticed the ominous silence from his men, with a sinking feeling he asked the question.
"What is it?"
Even Ser Stannis' iron will looked shaken as he spoke to the Knight Commander "Well Sir, as you know the Maleficar's escape was rather…explosive and the room he was in was directly above the Phylactery Store which was…somewhat…damaged."
The silence that followed lasted a full minute, eventually the Commander spoke.
"How bad is it?"
"Every vial was shattered; we have no way to track him."
The orders were given after a number of deep breaths. "Stannis go across the lake and find a good stonemason who can work fast. This hole is to be guarded night and day. I will NOT have any more…disappearances. You are all DISMISSED!"
As the Templars quickly scuttled off Greagoir, thoroughly depressed, went back to his office where there was a bottle of recently confiscated brandy waiting for him.
Sweet Liquor eased the pain, until the next morning anyway.
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