The path to the western summit's tower turned out to be easier than Brad had anticipated, save for the steep climb towards the end. The duo had traversed the tunnels at a brisk pace, encountering no major hindrances. The scent on the western side was less pungent, but sulfur veins encircled them from all sides. Donning their masks was mostly unnecessary. Brad's ingenious idea to use phosphorus lanterns proved effective, casting light on the corridors they traversed.
The caves' atmosphere was dry and frigid, causing Brad's wrist pain to subside and his disposition to ease. Conversely, Ismeth suffered from nausea, teary eyes from the noxious sulfur air, and he cursed dwarves and wizards through his chattering teeth due to cold weather. He placed the blame on Brad for their partnership, particularly as they ascended the steep, razor-sharp and pale yellow rocks. Ismeth was also repulsed by the odor left on his hand after touching the pallid yellow sulfur stones.
After two hours of travel, they arrived at the stairwell that Brad had anticipated. This time, the stairs branched out in two directions.
"So, Brad, left or right?" Ismeth queried.
Brad, who had faced the same quandary a day earlier and had never relished such choices, was relaxed and nonchalant this time around. They were not in imminent danger, after all. "Let's head left," Brad responded.
The duo ascended the stairs that extended to the left, leading to different corridors on different floors. The staircase to the right continued upward. Brad momentarily questioned the accuracy of his decision, observing the staircase, and reluctantly opened the door in front of him. Despite his phosphor lantern, the room was obscured in darkness.
"I don't fancy this," Brad grumbled, taking a step back.
At that moment, Ismeth, who was already shivering, pushed Brad aside and strode inside confidently.
"What's wrong, old friend? Behold, a room with a cozy, crackling hearth," he declared, striding further in.
"What hearth are you talking about, Ismeth? It's pitch black in here," Brad said, feeling a strange sense of unease.
As Ismeth walked towards the north wall of the room, he scolded Brad, "Can't you see the mammoth fireplace ablaze on the wall directly in front of you, Brad?"
Suddenly, Brad heard a loud crackling. "Stop, Ismeth!" he yelled, but it was too late.
A flickering pallor flared up in a quick, rhythmic pulse. Suddenly, a dark, captivating energy surged out like a penetrating arrow that Brad barely dodged. Ismeth was flung back into the corridor a few meters from the room. Rising up swiftly, Brad checked on his partner. Though he was breathing, Ismeth's pulse was feeble. Brad scanned the surroundings, hearing a faint voice. In the center of the room, a silhouette glimmered like a feeble and wan candle flame.
"I'm remorseful about your comrade. It was unintentional. However, it liberated me from the enchantment sphere that ensnared me."
With anger in his eyes and sword in hand, Brad glared at the silhouette and demanded, "Who are you, and what have you done to my partner?"
"I am Charlman, a wizard. I was deceived by another wizard and incarcerated here. Your friend must have activated the trap that imprisoned me. It was not my fault."
Brad fought to restrain his impulse to lunge and slice the man in rage. He had encountered such bodiless entities once before, on the day that caused him to abandon his temple knighthood training about a year ago. He knew that a conventional sword could not harm these sorts of incorporeal beings.
"Are you but a kind of ghost?" he inquired, finally settling his nerves.
"Nay, I hope I still draw breath. I had ventured on astral travel, disconnected from my physical form," Charlman responded.
"Why?"
"'Twas the sole avenue to infiltrate this tower. Yet an evil sorcerer ensnared me in a peculiar trap within this chamber."
The man's silhouette radiated more, illuminating the room. Brad spotted a shattered jug before an aged hearth. The man had seen it as well.
"This must be it. A hoary ruse. Magic vases wrought in Pharrah. An ensorcelling snare the antediluvian Snakeskin wizards employed to ensnare elder naga spirits." Charlman let out a bitter chuckle.
"Why the mirth? What is amusing?" Brad snapped.
"Please forgive me. It is not about you. This knowledge is delicate and rare. I had imparted it only to my sister," Charlman explained.
"Is her name perchance Charlotta?" Brad inquired.
"Have you crossed paths with her?" Charlman was surprised.
"Aye, the day prior. She divulged your vanishment. I had even journeyed hither to unravel your mystifying fate, owing to my vow to her. Now I rue that decision, as my comrade is ailing." Brad checked Ismeth's breathing, still faint.
I offer my deepest apologies to your friend. If I were in my corporeal form, I could offer aid, but presently, I am limited in my abilities. Perhaps if I knew the nature of the magic that befell him," Charlman said solemnly.
"It was a spell that emitted a pale gray light that moved like an arrow, causing vibrations. I believe it was black magic," Brad replied.
"Hmm. I hope my hypothesis is correct. It sounds like a light beam spell that drains an excessive amount of energy. If that is the case, then it may be that his power was merely temporarily depleted by a simple spell," Charlman mused.
"I hope you're right, Wizard Charlman. But tell me, what brings you here?" Brad inquired.
"It was Charlotta's request that brought me here. She asked me to come," Charlman answered.
"Your narratives seem to conflict, however," Brad interjected.
"What do you mean? I fail to understand," Charlman responded.
"Charlotta claimed that she summoned you here," Brad stated.
"That's preposterous and absurd. Unlike Charlotta, I do not deceive. My vow to Orion prohibits me from doing so," Charlman asserted.
"Your statements continue to contradict. Charlotta purported that she followed the path of Orion as a wizard, while you followed the path of Demian. She also claimed that you gained entry to this tower in this manner as you were impervious to the tower's aura due to your status as a balance wizard, " Brad explained.
Charlman's laughed loudly. His laughter became almost hysterical. "I apologize, my friend. I laugh from nerves. This tower is impregnable, not even the Orion or Demian wizards can breach its defenses. It's a sacred place for those who believe in the Dark Lord, and only they can enter its physical realm. I came because Charlotta pleaded with me to do so, and I embarked on an astral journey to reach this tower because it was the only way, and the way she begged me to take. That's the unvarnished truth."
Brad furrowed his brow. "If that's the case, why didn't Charlotta make the astral trip herself to enter the tower? If that's a viable method, I mean."
"She's a war wizard, my friend, only effective on the battlefield. As for me, I am a specialist in mystical arts," Charlman explained.
Brad heaved a deep sigh. His head was throbbing.
"One of you is not telling the truth, but which one?" Brad began to pace around the room, his nerves on edge. "Let's approach this calmly. So, you went on an astral journey, correct?"
"That's correct."
"Then your body must be somewhere nearby."
"Yes. By the way, what's the date? How long has it been?" Charlman asked, his eyes lit with curiosity.
"It's the end of autumn, on the thirteenth day."
"Oh, thank the spirits. Only three days have passed. That means my body is somewhere confined and fed. If not, I'll succumb to thirst soon. My fatigue and exhaustion could also indicate that my physical form is in a weakened state."
"As an astral traveler, don't you sense where your body is?"
"I can't seem to feel its presence."
"That's dire news."
"Why is that?"
"Because that means, if we can't locate your body, you'll perish. Don't get me wrong; I'm no wizard. I'm just using my wits. I'm really trying to understand your story." said Brad.
"My physical form was situated in the settlement of the wizards," Charlman said with a weary tone.
"Very well, but where precisely was it?" Brad inquired.
"It was enclosed within the windmill," Charlman replied.
"Understood, I'll begin to seek out your body. But I do have another inquiry. If Charlotta didn't make her way here, she must have delegated the spell that would incarcerate you to someone else, who then brought you to this location. Isn't that correct?" Brad questioned.
"Yes, that could be a possibility. A logical assumption. Someone else must have placed the enchanted urn in this chamber," Charlman agreed.
"Then who is this person, and where might they be at present? And the most crucial question, why didn't they arrive to claim their reward after locking you up within the magical vessel?" Brad probed further.
"I...I don't know," Charlman replied hesitantly.
"Thus, neither Charlotta nor you can be trusted. If I cannot determine who is telling the truth, I would rather not trust either of you," Brad declared firmly.
Brad lifted his partner and readied himself to depart when Charlman yelled, "Hold on a moment!"
"I'm afraid I don't want to listen to you because your tale doesn't sound quite logical to me," Brad responded coolly.
"Very well, I confess I've concealed an essential detail from you," Charlman admitted.
Brad looked at him with a piercing gaze, his patience wearing thin.
"It's plausible that the tower's guardian may have imprisoned me," Charlman divulged.