The Adventurer's Guide to Successful Escapes

by Wade Albert White

  Nana nodded. “In principle, yes, but there are two problems to consider. One, officially I work for the academy, not your group, and it’s a serious offense for anyone to interfere with an active quest, including dragons. You don’t want to attract the attention of the Wizards’ Council. They love to stick their noses where they don’t belong, and if they think there’s been any funny business, they could arbitrarily declare the quest a failure. Two, although I could probably get away with offering you each a standard fireball, remember that they take eight hours, no matter how far you’re going. So if your destination is only fifty miles away, you could probably find a faster way to get there and save yourself some time.”

  “Didn’t Jocelyn mention something about premium fireballs?” asked Anne.

  “Those you definitely have to pay for.”

  “Well, assuming we finish the quest, I’m supposed to be inheriting an entire kingdom, right?” said Anne. “We could pay you afterward.”

  “Not to be unnecessarily discouraging, but your chances of completing this quest aren’t exactly high.”

  Penelope clasped her hands together and dropped dramatically onto one knee. “Pretty please, oh kindest and wisest and most generous of dragons. We’re just a group of helpless young orphans, placing ourselves at your mercy.”

  “Okay, now you’re laying it on a bit too thick. But only a bit.” Nana closed her eyes and mumbled something to herself. “Fine. Out of the kindness of my heart, and also my great sense of nobility, not to mention how much it will add to my ever-growing sense of superiority, I’ll extend you the credit for one premium fireball each, to be repaid at the conclusion of the quest. That’s the best I can do. You decide when you want to use it.”

  “What do you think?” Anne asked Penelope and Hiro. “Should we take it now, or try to find some other means of transportation to the tower?”

  “Common wisdom would suggest saving the fireballs for when we need them most,” said Hiro, sounding a little more like his old self again. “We could check at the village first and see if there’s anyone who can take us.”

  “That gets my vote,” said Penelope.

  “Are you coming with us?” Anne asked Nana.

  “I’m afraid it would look too suspicious.” Nana stretched out on the sand. “Besides, the weather at Saint Lupin’s was dismal. I could use a good soak in the sun.”

  “Okay, we’ll return when we’re done, then.”

  The three adventurers stuffed their cloaks into their packs and made their way toward the buildings. Eventually, the sand gave way to a cobblestone road that led to an open square in the center of the village. A rectangular piece of wood slightly wider and taller than the average person stood upright in the square, with a rope strung between it and one of the surrounding buildings. An old woman was hanging ribbons from the rope. Her skin looked as tough as leather, no doubt from years spent in the scorching sun. She smiled crookedly, waved to them, and seemed about to say something when Anne waved back.

  The old woman stopped smiling. She raised a bony finger and shook it at Anne. “Cursed,” she croaked.

  Anne lowered her arm. “Um, what?”

  The woman trembled all over. “Cursed! A Cursed One walks among us! Beware the one who wears the gauntlet! Beware! Beware!” The woman ran screaming down the street. “Bar the doors! Lock the shutters! Hide the chickens! Do not gaze upon the Cursed One, or it shall be your doom!”

  “I’m changing my vote,” said Penelope. “Let’s just walk to the tower.”

  Up and down the street, doors and windows slammed shut, and a sense of dread crept over Anne. Then, around the corners of every building soldiers appeared, marching in columns and armed for battle. Her puzzlement changing to panic, Anne turned back the way they had come, only to find that every exit out of the town square was blocked. Anne, Penelope, and Hiro stood back-to-back-to-back as the soldiers fanned out into a ring, surrounding them completely. As they did, a small crowd of curious onlookers also gathered beyond the soldiers.

  For one long, tense moment, everyone waited expectantly. Then one section of the ring opened and a man dressed in blue-and-white-striped robes stepped forward and unrolled a sheaf of parchment.

  “O Cursed One, hear me now,” cried the man, who appeared to be the village herald. “We, the people of the Black Desert village, gather to stand against you and your golden arm of doom. We—”

  “Hey, it’s not gold,” yelled a man in the crowd.

  The herald ignored this interruption. “We will, if we must, call upon every man, woman, child, and chicken, so that we might—”

  “He said it’s not gold,” yelled someone else.

  “Pipe down,” barked the herald. “It’s hard enough trying to get into character without you lot constantly interrupting. See, you’ve made me lose my place.” He scanned the parchment again, mumbling as he went. “Cursed One… we the people… golden arm…”

  “Look at it, Amar,” said a woman to the right. “We’re telling you, the gauntlet isn’t gold.”

  The herald put his parchment down in a huff, gave the gauntlet a cursory glance, and looked at Anne. “Are you Jojo the One-Eyed, possessor of the Golden Gauntlet of Destiny?” he asked.

  “Um, no,” said Anne.

  The herald leaned in close. “Are you certain?”

  “Quite certain, yes.”

  His eyes narrowed. “How can we be sure?”

  “Well, for one thing, I have both my eyes.”

  He studied her eyes. “One could be a fake.”

  Anne shrugged. “I guess you’ll just have to take my word for it, then.”

  The herald harrumphed at this, as though taking someone’s word was not the kind of thing any decent person would ask of a proper herald.

  “So you’re saying you do not seek the door with no tower?” He indicated the piece of wood standing on end behind them, which, now that he mentioned it, did indeed resemble a door. It even had a doorknob.

  “Actually, we’re looking for a tower with no door,” said Anne.

  The herald nodded thoughtfully. He took another look at her gauntlet, and then he turned back to the crowd. “All right, people, false alarm,” he called. “Wrong quest again. Everybody reset.”

  The crowd dispersed amid considerable grumbling.

  “Sorry about that,” said the herald. “We’ve been expecting a Keeper for days now. It’s the first time the town has been selected as a major quest location in well over a century. Naturally folks are a little excited. Old Mabel’s kicked us into action twice already this week. I keep telling her to wear her spectacles, but will she listen to me?” He let out a long sigh. “So, what can we do for you fine folks today?”

  “We’re looking for transportation to a tower,” said Anne. “Just a second. I have a map that shows where it is.” She reached into her pack where her cloak was stashed and retrieved the red book, but the title had changed to The Adventurer’s Guide to Letters by Not-So-Famous People. Anne hastily opened the book only to discover it was now filled with page after page of correspondence by people whose names she sort of recognized but couldn’t quite place. “Oh no. The map’s gone!”

  The herald smiled. “Not to worry. The only tower on this tier is the Infinite Tower, so it’s either that or nothing. Unfortunately, you’re not likely to find anyone in the village who can take you there right now. We’re all tied up with this other quest. But I’m sure you could walk it in a couple of days.”

  “I don’t suppose you have a dragon?” asked Anne, thinking that maybe she could negotiate a deal for another premium fireball. “We’re sort of in a hurry.”

  “One was supposed to arrive last Thursday for the quest, but he got held up at the border by customs officials. Something about illegal dolphin smuggling.” The herald rubbed his chin. “If you’re truly in a bind, though, I do know of someone who might be able to help you. I normally wouldn’t suggest him, but…”

  “We’ll take anything,” said Anne.


  The herald nodded. “There’s a fellow who lives nearby. An archaeologist. Conducts a lot of digs on this tier and has a travel sled and everything. If you head due west out of town, you’ll find him three dunes over. Presuming he’s even in at the moment. He does travel a lot. Just be aware that Mr. Shard, while brilliant in his own way, is also slightly… eccentric.”

  Jeffery guided them to the west side of town. They left the white-domed buildings of the village behind and labored over the sloping dunes, the sands shifting under their feet. As promised, at the bottom of the third dune was another domed building. In front of it, a sled of lacquered wood with long metal runners gleamed in the sunlight. The sled was piled high with neatly stacked crates and containers.

  As they approached, a tall, thin individual emerged from the building carrying a small wooden box. Although he walked upright, his shoulders were hunched over, and his legs seemed unnaturally short, at least for a person. That he was not in fact human became increasingly evident the nearer they drew. He had a short snout and large rounded ears, and his skin was completely covered in coarse brown fur marked with dark spots, not unlike your typical hyena. Very much unlike your typical hyena, however, he was immaculately dressed, including well-tailored pants and a striped waistcoat over a billowing linen shirt.

  The creature gave a large smile, which showed off an impressive collection of sharp teeth. He set the box on the sled and waved them over. “Greetings, greetings, my friends, my neighbors, my casual acquaintances who are good for occasional networking,” he said. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

  He shook their hands enthusiastically, each in turn.

  “Excuse me, but are you Mr. Shard?” asked Anne.

  “Indeed, I am, young miss,” said the creature. “Plutarch H. Shard, at your service.” He bowed deeply with a slight flourish of his arm. “And what brings three young travelers such as yourselves to my doorstep? Mere curiosity? Idle inquisitiveness? Or perhaps you’ve heard I offer the best prices on the antiques market? You strike me, young miss, as a person with discerning taste. Can I interest you in a one-of-a-kind, never-before-seen magickal amulet?” He spread out his hand. Five painted but otherwise regular-looking rocks lay in his palm. “Two for one, this week only.”

  “Er, no thanks,” said Anne. “We’re looking for transportation, actually. Someone in town said you might be able to help us.”

  A shadow flickered across Shard’s face. “Ah, yes. The town. That center of urban pomposity. That would-be city of arrogance. Most of them wouldn’t know a good deal if it bit them on the left leg. Then again, who am I to turn down a free meal?” He laughed loudly and his eyes flashed with a predatory gleam. “In any case, unfortunately you’ve caught me at a bad time. I already have a trip planned and will be leaving shortly.”

  “Any chance you’re heading into the desert?” asked Anne.

  Shard stretched out his arms. “It’s all desert, young explorer, as far as the eye can see.”

  “So… is that a yes?”

  “Yes. But I’m not headed in your direction.”

  “We haven’t told you where we’re going yet.”

  “True, but I prefer to travel alone. My apologies.”

  “Please,” said Anne. “We’re in a hurry and we have no other way to get there. I’m on a quest.” To emphasize the point, she held up the gauntlet.

  Shard stepped close and studied the gauntlet intently. “Is that—is that a genuine prophecy medallion?”

  “Y-yes,” said Anne, slightly taken aback.

  Shard stroke his chin. “Fascinating, fascinating. And where exactly was it you said you wished to travel?”

  “A place called the Infinite Tower.”

  Shard threw his head back and let out a high-pitched whoop. “What a coincidence! The Infinite Tower. Exactly where I’m headed. It’s fabulous! It’s perfect! It’s fate! I would be delighted to take you there.”

  Hiro frowned. “I thought you said you prefer to travel alone.”

  “I think you must have misunderstood me,” said Shard.

  “Those were your exact words.”

  Shard shook his head. “Nonsense. I adore company. I crave it. I sprinkle it like spice on my dinner.” He paused. “Actually, forget that last one.”

  “I should probably mention, we don’t have any money to pay you right now,” said Anne.

  “Not a problem. Help me with my supplies and we’ll call it even. Deal?”

  Anne looked to both Penelope and Hiro. Penelope nodded eagerly in agreement, and Hiro, somewhat hesitantly, nodded as well.

  “We accept,” said Anne. She was glad to have found a way to the tower, although she also felt slightly unsettled by Shard’s quick change of mind.

  Shard bowed again. “Wonderful. Wonderful. Come this way. Perhaps I can interest you in a nice set of antique work gloves? Or in your case, miss, work glove.” He barked in laughter at his own joke.

  They followed him into the building, which turned out to be nothing more than a hollow shell filled with crates and containers. Shard directed Anne, Penelope, and Hiro to pick up specific items and stack them securely on the sled, somehow managing to do none of the actual work himself. When they were finished nearly an hour later, they sat exhausted in the shade of the building.

  Shard walked over. “Everything is ready, my friends, my bosom buddies, my newest of new associates. Time to gather the pack. Don’t be startled now.” He put two fingers to his lips and gave a shrill whistle.

  Anne was about to ask what “the pack” was when the sand in front of them erupted in a series of geysers, and Anne, Penelope, and Hiro leapt to their feet, forming a tight circle.

  Mr. Shard let out several giggles as the sand raged. “I warned you not to be startled.”

  When the dust settled, ten large animals stood before them. Each had four legs and a long muzzle and shaggy gray fur, a few shades lighter than the ground from which they had emerged. Their shoulders reached as high as Anne’s.

  “Are those… wolves?” asked Penelope.

  “Sand wolves, to be precise,” Shard corrected. “Excellent for desert travel. Hard working. Low maintenance. I can offer you first pick from the next litter, if you like. At a price, of course.” He grinned widely and batted the eyelashes of his big make-you-feel-like-his-next-meal eyes.

  Anne squinted. If she looked at the wolves in just the right way, she could make out the individual grains of sand that made up their fur and bodies, as though they had been born of the desert itself.

  Shard walked to the front of the sled, where there were two long high-backed benches under a canopy. He gestured to the second bench. “Come, sit, relax. It will only take me a moment to hitch the wolves, and then we’re off.”

  Anne, Penelope, and Hiro climbed aboard. The floor in front of them was crammed with smaller boxes and jars filled with brightly colored liquids and leather pouches stuffed with who knows what, but the bench itself offered plenty of room. Holding their packs on their laps, they welcomed the shade of the canopy, even though it could do nothing to block the stifling air.

  After he had finished connecting the wolves to the sled, Shard climbed onto the front bench, took the reins, and looked back at his passengers. “Everyone ready?”

  The three of them nodded.

  Shard cracked the whip, and the wolves surged into motion. The sled accelerated at an alarming rate—alarming in this case being less “I seem to have misplaced my favorite pair of dress socks” and more “I probably should have updated my will.” Thankfully, a bar was strategically bolted to the back of the first bench, and they held on to it for dear life. The wolves kicked up a thick column of black sand that was every bit as bad as coal dust—even worse perhaps, in the sense that coal dust wasn’t typically coming at you in a constant stream. After coughing and gagging for a few miles, they finally dug out their cloaks and held them over their faces.

  For four long hours, they drove up one side of the large black dunes and down the other. There was
nothing else to see in any direction. Shard never asked them if they needed to stop or whether they were hungry or thirsty. And the wolves never faltered. They ran on and on and on. Eventually, Shard steered them into a long valley surrounded by black walls of jagged rock that seemed to go on forever and made Anne feel utterly trapped.

  Finally, when Anne didn’t think she could stand another minute, they left the valley and crested the top of an especially large dune. In the distance, stretching into the sky like a thin black ribbon, was their destination.

  The Infinite Tower.

  THE PAMPHLET ENTITLED THE LIMITATIONS OF FOREVER OFFERS THE FOLLOWING TIP ON HOW TO PICTURE INFINITY:

  Imagine a sandwich. Now imagine a longer sandwich. Now imagine a sandwich even longer than that. Now imagine yourself cutting the sandwich in half. Now imagine giving one of those halves to me. Now imagine each of us eating our half of the sandwich. Now imagine me thanking you for a lovely lunch.

  Also, don’t bother trying to picture infinity. It’s impossible.

  The Tower with No Door

  The Infinite Tower was, as the cliché went, a sight to behold. The smooth black spire sat atop a low hill and stretched into the sky, rising high above the surrounding dunes and past a few lower-lying clouds. Then it seemed to end abruptly in a jagged break, as though some giant had come along and snapped off the upper portion. The scale of it was overwhelming, and Anne wondered what they would find inside to help them on their quest. Did an infinite tower hold an infinite number of clues?

  Shard rubbed his hands together enthusiastically. “Isn’t it magnificent? Isn’t it awe-inspiring? Isn’t it beyond description—except of course for these words that I’m using right now to describe it?”

  “Wow,” exclaimed Penelope, looking out from under the canopy. “We’re definitely not at Saint Lupin’s anymore.”

  “Maybe you could forgo that castle you want and just buy this tower,” said Anne. “I’m pretty sure you’d have all the room you need.”

  “But—it’s not infinite,” said Hiro.