*I*
The tower, my destination, came into view. I looked to my right and, in the firelight, saw several guards, languidly hovering over a barrel of some kind of liquor. I took a few steps closer and overheard their drunken mumbling. They were talking about "their master," and—here I pricked up my ears—"his new acquisition." Naive fools, if they knew who was lurking a few meters away, would be sitting with swords in hand and legs shaking. I figured I'd learn nothing more from them. The last thing they heard was steel cutting through the air.
I started searching the bodies. I needed a teleportation scroll, after all, or something to help me get to the tower. I searched the first one and found nothing on him except an empty bottle of some cheap liquor (Kavalier, I think), an old, rusty chainmail shirt, and a dagger. I found nothing on the second one either. The third guard (no doubt the leader of this band) carried a round, black stone with a symbol in its center. A rune was carved into the stone, perhaps the most delicate and perfect I'd ever seen. I pocketed the rune.
I took a burning torch and headed toward the tower. I circled it several times, searching for an entrance, but unfortunately, I encountered only smooth walls (clearly magically created, as not a single flaw was visible). An idea occurred to me, and I pulled my new acquisition from my pocket. I slowly brought the stone close to the wall and released it. The stone hovered in the air for a moment, then "melted" into the wall. After a few seconds of silence, something moved, and the wall opened up exactly where the stone had melted into the wall. Without hesitation, I stepped inside. After a few steps into the darkness (my torch had gone out), I saw a bright spot. This spot turned out to be the door to the chamber. I entered. The sight that unfolded before me was unusual. The chamber was at least four meters high and just as long. The ceiling of the chamber was designed in the shape of half an egg. A heavy, beautifully carved wooden chandelier hung from the very top. A sun was painted where the chandelier hung, its rays sweeping across the ceiling and walls, all the way to the floor. To the right of the door stood a desk, its entire surface littered with dusty parchments and books. On this mountain of old tomes was a white (for these conditions) note with the inscription:
"To the wizard hunters: Do you wish to find old Monahein? Take the stairs on the right. And the young fool who so desperately wants to retrieve his fiancée should use the stairs on the left."
The old mage's malice knew no bounds. Since the epithet "fool" applied to me, I began to search for the stairs. On the wall opposite the desk were two doors. The door on the right appeared unused and well-worn by time. In the center was a bas-relief depicting a smiling red dragon rubbing its belly. Scattered around it were armor, swords, lances, and other paraphernalia. Could it be that the old mage wasn't lying? His sigil was a red dragon, and supposedly he could transform into one. So I looked at my door, the one on the left. I found no clue. It was a simple, ordinary door made of planks. Having little choice, I pushed it open gently. The hinges creaked slightly, and a winding, very narrow staircase appeared. It led upstairs.
I placed my foot hesitantly on the first step and listened for a moment… I took a few more steps up, and suddenly I heard a crunching sound under my foot. I slowly drew my sword from its sheath.
*II*
Instinctively, I shielded my face with my arm. Those damn trolls probably had never been so close to water. The mere stench of that pile of ugliness descending the stairs threw me back. I'd never had a particularly keen sense of smell, having been "dulled" by countless expeditions where sanitary conditions fell below any existing standard. My companions and I smelled like an onion that had been peeled a month earlier and left in some nice, damp place. But what I smelled at that moment couldn't be compared to any stench in existence, whether walking, lying, or sliding on the ground. Manure, combined with all the stenches of the world, could be called "troll perfume."
I shook off the olfactory surprise and swung my sword backhanded as the monster's splayed paw approached my face. The green bastard's severed arm landed on the floor with a thud. The beast howled in pain and lunged at me with redoubled determination. This time, I had to use all my strength and experience to parry the blows. My cover was quite tight, and none of the enemy's attacks reached their target. After each of the beast's charges, I tried to launch a successful counterattack, but the troll retreated too quickly. I was forced onto the complete defensive, and the monster swung its good paw at such a dizzying pace that I had no chance of launching a charge. My only hope was to wait for the troll to make a mistake. The moment I thought this, my "stinking friend" stumbled! They say luck strikes when you least expect it. Fully agreeing with that saying, I brought my blade down on the troll's neck and the stinker's head rolled across the floor and took up a place right next to his former hand.
My first serious fight in this tower was drawing to a close (I didn't yet know it would be my last). I was about to head up when I remembered that trolls can regenerate if the carcass isn't burned after being "killed." I grabbed one of the torches from its holder on the wall and threw it at the still-moving body. The flames quickly crackled, and the troll's entire body caught fire. Fortunately, these monsters burn faster than brushwood, and I didn't have much work to do "cremating" my newfound pet. Of course, I hadn't forgotten about the severed parts of the bog-eater, which quickly rejoined their dead owner.
After ascertaining that the troll was nothing but a pile of ash, I headed up the stairs. One thousand, one hundred and twenty-three—that was the exact number of steps, to my destination (which was the very top). Along the way, I passed several closed doors, of little consequence to me. Only at the very top, after ascending the coveted eleven hundred and twenty-third step (which was also the starting point for the tower's top floor), did I see light shining through a half-open door. Breathing heavily (so many stairs do their thing to young men longing to reclaim their loved ones), I slowly approached the source of the light. With a quick, powerful kick, I widened the angle between the doorframe and the door itself. The beam of light, which had been trapped behind the wooden curtain a moment ago, now fell upon me, blinding me for a moment. After a moment, as my eyes adjusted to the light, I stepped forward. I took two steps, and, still unable to see much, I stopped, not wanting to step on some foolish trap again. Another encounter with a troll in a closed room would completely kill my sense of smell. Suddenly, I heard a voice:
"Welcome to my humble abode, young fool! He he…
*III*
The old wizard was rather odd in appearance. He didn't resemble a typical wizard in the slightest (well, except for the wands and other implements that dangled here and there from his person). Monahein was incredibly thin. His skin simply hung to his bones. He had long hair and an equally long beard. There wouldn't have been anything original about it except for the fact that both his beard and gray hair grew on one side of his head! It was as if someone had drawn a line right along his nose and then shaved off everything shavable on the left side. I can't quite make out what the old man was wearing. His upper body was covered by a waistcoat with a dozen pockets and several holders for wands (or other magical items whose purpose I'll probably never know). Looking down, one could see tight trousers that reached to his knees. This garment made one gag, as it was speckled with a terrifying array of colors. Worst of all, the trousers, or rather, their color scheme, reacted like a sensor, changing the color palette to Monahein's every move. The wizard was shod in old slippers, comparable to a piece of leather with soles on which a cat had spent a long time sharpening its claws.
Truly, the mage was dedicated to originality, and… he was good at it!
I also glanced around the room, expecting at least one fireball to be launched at me at any moment, in which case I'd have to hide somewhere. To my surprise, the room's appearance was the complete opposite of its owner's. In short, its construction was simple, like that of a wooden grain threshing machine. The room's "architectural gems" consisted of two columns supporting the ceiling, a window, bare walls, and chains attached to one of them (which, incidentally, held my unfortunate Hermenegilda). This glance at the room brought both good and, of course, bad news. Perhaps I'll start with the good:
after a preliminary analysis of the mage's abilities (tower, troll, appearance, etc.), I concluded there was about a 10% chance that the mage was simply "weak," and that a room with such a simple design would help me catch him faster.
Moving on to the bad:
there was still that remaining 90% chance that the mage was one of those "unbeatable" ones, and that the room's design would give him the ability to turn me into a smoking pile of ash or a toad, and it would all happen before he could draw his sword.
I was never good at math, but that 10% was rather paltry compared to 90%, which led me to decide against the "shoot first, ask questions later" approach. I decided to try talking to Monahein.
I began very gently and diplomatically:
"Greetings, mighty Monahein."
A strange expression appeared on the mage's face, as if he were surprised I could speak at all, but after a moment he spoke these words:
"Greetings, you foolish and utterly naive young man. Do you think you're quick enough to explain what you're bringing me before I turn you into mincemeat for my dragon?"
I swallowed nervously and replied:
"O most gifted of all who practice magic, one very small matter brings me to you, and I assure you, it won't take up much of your precious time."
The mage seemed interested:
"Hmmm... Since you say it won't take long, I'm willing to listen, but remember, I'm not a patient man."
I felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders and I stammered:
"Monahein, do you remember the note about the wizard hunters and the fool searching for his bride?"
"Of course I remember, I wrote it myself. And what do you have to do with it?
" "I'm that, er, fool who wants his fiancée back."
The magician smiled mysteriously under his mustache (or rather, half of it) and took a key from one of his pockets, handing it to me.
"This is the key to the shackles in which, as you've probably noticed, your fiancée is bound.
Unchain them as quickly as possible, and you can go freely."
If it were possible, my jaw would have been on the floor at that moment. I was so surprised by the magician's words that I couldn't say a word. But curiosity overcame my speechlessness, and I said:
"Wait a minute! Where's the fight? Where's that famous spell-casting at the poor, steel-clad knight? Perhaps we can at least play a game of chess for her, eh? It's impossible; no one does that!"
The magician glared at me and regaled me with these words:
"Let me tell you a story. When you hear it, you'll understand my actions. One day, my gang of thugs, the ones you slaughtered, dragged a girl to my tower. I was very happy, because an old mage always needs a young woman. As soon as I brought her into my tower, the poor girl started ranting about her fearless fiancé and how he would come to free her from me. I thought I had some extra fun in store for me, as I love skirmishes with people like you. However, things weren't going to be as rosy as they seemed. It all started when I wanted to try a charm spell on your Hermenegilda. I cast the spell and... nothing! It turned out the poor girl was so stupid that her small mind couldn't be charmed! At the time, I thought all was not lost; she could always work in the kitchen or clean. My belief that she was qualified for this job lasted until I saw your beloved breaking every broomstick she touched, unable to make tea, and boiling an egg on her third attempt. Seeing all this, I almost fell into a depression. I had one more option left: feeding her to my pet troll, whom you also got rid of. But that idea backfired, as the green creature barely sniffed Hermenegilda before turning on its heel and returning to gnawing on an old bone. After all this, in resignation, I locked your fiancée in the tower, and it's been that way ever since. Do you understand why I want to get rid of her? Not only is she incapable of anything, but she's also ruining everything! Unchain her as quickly as possible and get out of here.
Without another word, I approached my beloved and freed her from her shackles. She threw herself into my arms and cried bitterly. I took her in my arms and slowly walked towards the door. Just as I was about to cross the threshold, a voice stopped me:
"Stop for a moment! I want to ask you something. I don't understand something about your behavior, and I'd like you to explain it to me. Why the hell, even though this girl is a complete ass who can burn even water, spoil almost everything she touches, and is even smarter than my old slippers, did you bother to save her?"
Without hesitation, I replied:
"I love her."
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