A building to the west exploded in debris as two unicorns, honest to god unicorns with red coats and shining horns, smashed through the wall and into the square. The Cleric, Hector, followed. Behind him was the ginger, who sent a line of flame at the barricade, lighting it with defenders still on it.

  This was all going to shit.

  I ran as fast as I could. As soon as I got to the door at the base of the clocktower I kicked it open. That huge axe just barely missed my shoulder and buried itself into a wooden beam. I saw the green sparks too late.

  I wheeled backward, avoiding Helena’s counterattack, and suddenly Bernie was there swiping with both Edge and Thorn. I ran around them.

  I pounded up the steps, taking them two at a time.

  Something slammed into my back. I glanced behind. A hatchet landed on the steps. A green shimmer, and there she was again.

  I swiped at her with the new greatsword, and she parried it with the haft of her axe.

  Bernadette ran along the wall, and lunged at her.

  Helena disappeared in a puff of green sparks. Bernie hit the edge of the banister, and fell over.

  I kept running up the steps.

  Eventually, I made it to the open area at the top, right under the massive gears and machinery of the clock tower. The face of the clock glowed in the moonlight. Everywhere was blue arcane light.

  Mark stood up from his desk.

  “She’s trying to kill us!” I said. “Do something!”

  Another hatchet arced over the railing and landed between us. I dropped Rachel, who ragdolled to the floor, then put both hands on the sword.

  I was just able to parry Helena’s next blow. Even with the belt, she was still monstrously strong. I parried the second blow as she went from light pink to normal. My adrenaline rush ended.

  Bernie leapt over the side. Luca came running up from behind me.

  Mark sent a firebolt at Helena. She disappeared into sparks. The bolt hit me straight in the chest. It hurt like hell, like someone threw a softball at my chest, but my breastplate tanked it.

  “Watch it!”

  “How was I supposed to know?” Mark complained.

  Green sparks shimmered around the hatchet again. Bernie tossed a dagger, too soon, it went right through. Helena appeared, spun, and swung at me again. I stepped back to let the swing pass, then stepped in with a lunge at the gap in her armor near her shoulder. She swung back and batted my sword out of the way.

  “I can’t cast the spell when she’s in the way!” Mark said.

  “Then she’ll come with!”

  “What about Cal?” he asked.

  “He can catch up later,” I said, parrying another terrible blow from the axe. “Just do it!”

  Helena tossed another hatchet behind her, and shunted away just as Bernadette lunged for her. A teleportation circle began tracing itself on the floor.

  Just then, in a surge of electricity, appeared Braelyn.

  “Do something about her!” I said, as Helena lifted her axe for another strike.

  Braelyn pointed her wand at Helena, and sent a shiver of electricity over her body. Helena froze in place, contorting her face in pain.

  The teleportation circle went off.

  And suddenly I was soaring over Vesperalis as if a ghost, flying above it at a thousand miles per hour. No, faster. I screamed across the country so fast the world blurred below me.

  And then I was standing in front of a tower in the snow.

  I leapt on Helena, tore the axe from her hands, and pulled her into a bear hug.

  “How long does this thing last?” I asked Braelyn.

  “Seconds,” she replied.

  “Get rope,” I said.

  Luca had rope. The paralysis wore off before we were finished tying her arms, but at that point she had three pairs of hands to keep her down. I’d never really tied a woman up before, so I was a little weirded out by it, but it had to be done. She snarled and tried to bite, yelled long strings of course language at us in Spanish, and even managed to draw blood from a headbutt.

  Not that I blamed her. I would have done the same thing. Except bite. For some reason that just seemed out of line.

  “You have a prison?” I asked.

  “The tower has a dungeon,” Mark sighed.

  “Good,” I replied. “But first things first,” I glanced around and grabbed Luca by the arm. “Make sure Rachel is taken care of.”

  Braeyln burst into tears, but helped Luca carry Rachel inside.

  The days went by quickly. But first, let me give you an understanding of where we were — Mark’s tower was an imposing, smooth skyscraper, not quite a hundred floors tall. Hundreds of glowing points of light in the black stone revealed to be windows, but only the upper floors had balconies. They ringed around the spire as it came to a point. The whole thing had something of a look like a chess piece, a blocky, tiered bishop maybe.

  The inside was plush, well furnished, and lit with arcane light.

  It was truly a marvel. Every floor had a colleague or a student, hundreds of them across the whole tower. Part scholarly campus, part magical research center, and all under Mark’s supervision, we had damn near all the help we would ever need.

  And we needed it.

  The head of the necromancy floor, Quentin, or just Q, handled surgery. Chiseled features, imposing frame, with a square jaw and perpetual stubble, he had more the look of an Old Hollywood private eye than a professor. The look of weariness, the bags under his eyes, clashed with his ready smile, and agreeable nature.

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  And while he had no powerful healing magic, no more so than me, he was an expert in corpses and anatomy. Luca provided the healing. I insisted on being there too, and so I handled the sleep spells that kept her under.

  It took a day and a half of careful work. First the bone was broken, then reattached with sturdy copper wire, then thinner wire and sutures for the muscle and tendons. The arteries had mostly been healed where they needed through my magic, but smaller blood vessels needed replication. The most difficult and time consuming process was the nerves.

  After we were done, I slept for 12 hours straight. I didn’t dream of Berryhop anymore. I was grateful, but not sure why.

  Upon waking, I tried to get a sense for where I was.

  I had a double dormitory all to myself. The other bed had been made, sheets pulled tight. A single desk waited to be shared. A small waist-high nearly empty bookshelf sat near it, and the window opposite let in the harsh light of the sun and snow.

  Simple accommodations for home, down right luxurious for this world.

  I checked my slate. A couple messages and a level up notification. I’d deal with that latter.

  I thought for a moment about using the bedpan provided, then decided better of it and crossed the room groggily. I grabbed one of the two books on the shelf. The first was an introductory pamphlet about the history and norms of the Academe Arcane. The other was a hefty tome entitled ‘The Math of Magic’ by Marcus Justinius Ailmer. I tossed it on the desk, then made my way across the hall to the shared lavatory. It was far more sophisticated than anything I’d seen elsewhere here, but mostly revealed itself to be a large outhouse with a magically refreshing water basin.

  When I returned to the dorm, I found a small piece of paper folded on the desk. It was a letter.

  Zachary,

  I know that we’ve been through a lot lately, and because of it, I wanted to unburden you of this conversation in a way that is most comfortable for us both. When you are ready, I should still be in the mess hall for the rest of the night. Come meet me, and maybe we can eat. Maybe we can practice our songs.

  As for your confession, and the situation we’re in… I find myself unable to say the things that I feel like you want to hear from me. Not because I do not have feelings for you, but precisely because I feel for you deeply.

  I’m worried the words will cheapen it.

  But more than that, I am worried that it will change things. I have come to rely on you more than any other person I know. So much so, that it’s scary. What if, in giving in to a typical romantic and sexual relationship, we compromise it in some way?

  I know there are a dozen things you may want to say to change my mind, and I will be glad to hear it. Later.

  We have only just landed. We have only just started to breathe again. Let’s breathe. We can talk about what the words mean later.

  Yours,

  Bernadette

  I folded the paper, and slipped it into Mark’s stupid magic book. I thought about going down to see Bernadette, to maybe check on Rachel too, but I decided I wasn’t ready. I needed to look at numbers.

  I opened my slate and immediately leveled up Bard to 5. Fifth level was huge for most classes, but I didn’t get a whole lot that changed my build. I basically just got better at the stuff I already did.

  Basically I got a buff to Inspiring Words, and I got some effort values added to my dexterity. I also was able to choose a new third level spell.

  At-Will Spells—

  Little Light

  Mend Item

  Tiny Tricks

  First level spells—

  Bubble

  Charm Person

  Command

  Curse, Minor

  Heal Light Wounds

  Healing Phrase

  Sleep

  Second Level Spells—

  Invisible

  Shatter

  Ward

  Third Level Spells—

  Mass Healing Phrase

  I chose Mass Healing Phrase because, well, I’d be an idiot not to. It was the absolute most important spell as a healer. If I’d had a chance to use it in that last fight with Captain Wen, I may have been able to… well I’m not sure. She kicked all three of our asses pretty handily.

  I couldn’t figure out what to choose for the spell phrase yet, and resolved to do it later once I had a chance to mull it over.

  The sword leaned against my bed. This was the weapon that had taken my friend's arm, that I’d just spent damn near two days trying to repair. I wanted to throw it out the window, and never think of it again.

  I decided to check its stats anyway:

  Certainty +4. This sword was commissioned by an elven princess as a symbol of her undying affection for a knight sworn to her service. Sadly, her father didn’t approve of their illicit affair, and sent the knight away before she could present him with the weapon.

  This is a masterwork of elven craftsmanship. It possesses the qualities sharp, and sturdy. Once per dawn, you may say the phrase ‘good morning princess’ and any class abilities that are on cooldown will refresh.

  ‘Sturdy’ was a new one. The tooltip said that wielders of sturdy weapons more greatly resist being knocked from their feet.

  The ‘good morning princess’ got a chuckle from me. What a wild thing to have to say in battle, but I presumed it held some kind of significance to the person who commissioned it.

  Having found that I’d dallied around in my room for long enough, I left the sword against my bed and walked out into the hall.

  I ran into Rachel.

  She wore a sleeveless undershirt and shorts. Her arm still in her sling, the scars and sutures on her shoulder red and ugly looking. She really shouldn’t be up yet.

  The magical healing had basically cut her required bed rest after surgery into nothing, but the physical therapy on the arm would still be pretty intense, and she needed the sleep to recover from the rest of the trauma the fight had put her through.

  “Hey,” she said, scratching at her sutures, then thinking better of it, and pointedly putting her hand at her side.

  “I thought you were a floor up,” I said.

  “I am, but I wanted to walk around.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Shouldn’t you be—”

  “Also, I wanted to thank you for helping to get my arm back.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said. “But professor Q was the one with the real expertise. I mostly just kept you under with sleep spells.”

  “Oh. Handy,” she said. Then looking around a bit said, “you want to go get a drink?”

  “Would that interfere with the recovery?”

  “My liver ain’t in my arm, bud.”

  “Good point,” I admitted.

  We managed to find some alchemy students just south of the mess hall who sold hootch, and brought a small keg of it up to my dorm. I saw Bernadette on the way, but she seemed busy singing ballads. Plus, Rachel needed me more.

  She hadn’t said it, but I could tell she wanted company. I offered to let her take the other bed, she agreed, and after drinking and playing some cards she went back to sleep.

  I didn’t sleep for many hours past that, well into early morning.

  Just as I was getting ready for bed, I checked my messages.