Date: 370

The man made an eerie gesture with his hands as a smoldering ball of flame headed in our direction. Instinctively, I pulled my jacket over my body, shielding Gwen as well. Len entered a steady pose, held out his hand and uttered some strange Guiharian incantation. A white wall of pure energy seemingly graced my body as I withstood a majority of the blast.

I felt intense heat, like being inside and overheated sauna, but it was not painful at all.

“Renold, come!” cried Gwen.

Renold nodded and heeded. The group, reunited once more, stood before a phalanx of hobgoblins and the man in red.

“I will not stop until I find you all,” said the man. “You travelers defile our Calidan. You must be punished by the will of Mystra.”

He began to chant another incantation, as a multitude of color began to collect within his palm.

Renold wrapped his massive arms around the group and chanted a Guiharian spell. A glowing column of light enveloped our group. It felt warm and familiar. The man in red fired a rainbow-colored spear of light toward our direction, but the scenery disappeared into a blinding light.

Before we knew it, we were back in the cleric’s tent at the festival. Renold began huffing and puffing, obviously exhausted from the battle.

“Practice makes perfect, Renold,” said a weary-looking Gwen. “I see you have the Word of Recall down.”
Renold nodded, sweat pouring down his face and neck.

“Are you all right, Gwen,” asked Len, with a sincere look of worry about his usually stoic face.

“I am fine. That man somehow bewitched my mind, inhibiting my magic.”

“Who was he?” I asked.

“He’s a servant of the High Mistress, supposedly,” she said, “Though I really deny she would have such a dubious character under her employment. I overheard one of his hobgoblin kin called him Al’Kahan.”

Renold and Len regained their stoic natures, committing the name to memory. Anyone who offends lady Gwen would surely face the wrath of the two.

“High Mistress?” I asked. “…of magic?”

“Yes,” replied Gwen. “Do you not know of the High Tower of Magic?”

My stomach churned. The High Tower of Magic. So whatever I saw to the northwest of Modrian was… the tower.

“Al’Kahan captured me because he heard I had helped a strange man dressed in odd clothing,” she said, looking me in the eyes.

I felt guilty. “I am sorry, Gwen,” I pleaded. “I did not mean for you to get into any kind of trouble.”

“No, it’s fine, Quixen,” she said. “I helped you because it is my duty. Besides, I denied it all, and he instead wanted my blood for some strange ritual. Thank goodness you found me in time,” she laughed, though I knew deep down, it wasn’t genuine.

I smiled, though I still felt bad for getting her into harm’s way.
“We’re all tired,” stated Len. “Let us clean up and retire for the night. We will be safe within the festival, or we’ve paid the Minotaurs for naught.”

Renold laughed, as did Gwen. I was shown to a tent where I could rest for the evening. As I washed and changed into some relaxing night wear, I couldn’t help but think of the tower. The tower that would be destroyed nearly 4000 years later, ravaging much of the land around it. The High Tower of Magic.

Al’Kahan… I thought to myself as I drifted into slumber.