Chapter 470 — Mary and Daniel
Blade of Dawn · Page 2 of 4
So by the time she finally roused herself from these diversions, the golden-red glow of sunset had already spilled across the ring of rooftops at the square's farthest edge.
Looking at that golden-red sunset, at the townsfolk and performers drifting away from the square in twos and threes, the poor young woman was finally seized with terror: she had completely forgotten what her mentor had told her to do!
Mary broke into a run, dashing toward the shops beside the square. Her only consolation now was that she had kept a good hold on the parcel in her arms all along. If she had been so absorbed in the square's amusements as to lose the potion ingredients her mentor had specifically instructed her to buy... her mentor would surely pull out one of her tendons and feed it to those bloodthirsty magical beasts in the mage tower!
At last, luck favored the girl for once: she bought the last batch of spellcasting materials before the shop closed, and by the time she came out, the sky had almost gone completely dark.
Looking at the last thin thread of daylight, Mary could not help tightening the old black robe around herself. Traveling after nightfall was not a wise choice, especially since between the town and her mentor's mage tower lay a mountain path that took two hours to walk. Though she was a mage with a formal casting rank, the mountain road in the dark was still fraught with danger.
But the old mage's wrath was more terrifying than slippery mountain trails and monsters lurking in the dark.
Mary silently berated herself for her slackness today, checked the parcel in her arms once more, and finally set off at a brisk pace out of the town.
The news she had seen on the notice board was still turning over in her mind, but once she set foot on the mountain path she cast all such idle thoughts aside.
Summoning a glowing orb of light for illumination and preparing a protective spell, her free right hand gripping a short sword for self-defense, the apprentice stumbled along the pitch-black mountain road. After nightfall a cold wind blew ceaselessly down from the mountains, but Mary dared not spare the concentration to maintain an extra wind barrier: in the field, conserving mana as much as possible was common sense among mages—so long as the external environment was not so harsh as to impair one's judgment, one must not be overly particular about comfort.
At last, before midnight arrived, that dark, grim spire came into view.
Mary was cold and hungry, but she had made it back to the mage tower before the collar around her neck turned into a red-hot iron ring.
The tower's great door opened on its own, and the gatekeeper within silently admitted the apprentice. With a dull thud as the heavy door swung shut, the mountain wind and starlight outside were sealed away together.
The mage tower was still grim and deathly silent, pressing down on a person like a cage until they could scarcely breathe, yet Mary still let out a long breath once inside. She tiptoed toward the stairs leading upward, intending to put the purchased goods in the storeroom before her mentor noticed and then hide in her own room—but she had taken only two steps when she stopped dead, her whole body going rigid.
The dour, solitary old mage stood on the staircase, merged into the darkness as quietly as a statue. The rustle of artificial nerve cords writhing beneath cloth and sweeping across the floor came whispering through the air, chillingly like the sound of countless vipers tangled and crawling.
Mary seemed to forget all at once how to speak. She stammered, "Mentor... I..."
A bright bolt of lightning struck her shoulder before her words had even landed, and together with the searing pain came the old mage's gloomy voice: "Why so late?"