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Adremor’s lazy drawl was cut off mid-sentence by the bang of bolts sliding shut.

“What was that?” the Force Wizard asked. “Did the doors just lock?”

“How are they going to bring us our dinner if the doors are locked?” Uzax wondered aloud.

Adremor got to his feet and walked over to the main doors. He rattled the handle, but the doors barely budged.

“The devil has locked us in here,” Uzax hissed.

Lexi’s eyes grew wide, and she started getting to her feet, her hands immediately going to the weapon she still wore at her side.

“Is this some sort of joke, Benjamin of Davies?” Adremor hollered.

He rattled the doors again. “The nerve of it! He invites us in and then locks us up. What does he think he’s going to do with us? Starve us in here?”

“Good thing we still have supplies,” Uzax rasped.

Adremor gave a last impotent kick at the doors. “He can’t work for the Grand Vizier. He must be one of those rogue mages of the north.”

Then the mage stepped back, taking in the sight of the doors. Ben could sense he was planning something.

“What are you doing?” asked Uzax, impatience in his voice.

“What on earth do you think I’m doing? You can sit there all you like, waiting for him to kindly let you out. But not me.”

With that, he closed his eyes and held out his hands in front of him. Adremor connected his hands at the bottom of his palms, his hands facing the doors. Next, the air in front of Adremor’s hands began to wobble and warp, reminding Ben of the way the horizon looked on a hot summer’s day.

Ben realized what was happening—the mage was using his force magic. A surge of panic ran through him as he realized that this could be trouble. If the mage managed to blast the doors down…

He waved his hands in front of the runes that controlled the speakers for where the rest of the women were.

“All of you,” he commanded. “Hide now and wait until my next command.”

He glanced at the screens, watching as the nymphs obeyed his order.

Back in the dining hall, Adremor continued to summon his spell. The air in front of his hands now shook violently. Ben began coming up with backup plans in the event the mages were able to break through.

Then, with a yell, the spell was unleashed. A column of energy-charged air blasted toward the door, a boom sounding as if a truck had slammed into it. Air rushed back, Adremor’s hair flying behind him, the wine cups on the table toppling over, the unoccupied chairs falling onto the ground with a clatter. The soldiers braced themselves but two were knocked down shamefully by the great wind.

But when the air settled, Ben realized that, other than making a mess and causing much shame to a pair of soldiers, the spell had done nothing. The doors still stood.

“What on earth?” asked Adremor as he approached the doors. “How are these undamaged?” He placed his hands on the doors, as if there might’ve been damage he’d missed. “This spell would’ve been powerful enough to liquify the bones of a charging Boulder Beast!”

“Maybe you’re losing your touch,” said Uzax with a sneer.

Adremor whipped around on his feet. “Care to say that again to my face?”

Uzax, not appearing to be bothered in the slightest by Adremor’s threat, rose slowly from his chair.

“I said, maybe you’re not as powerful as you think you are?”

Adremor narrowed his eyes. “You’d better be careful with your words, fire-flinger.”

Uzax ignored his comment as he approached the door. He looked it up and down then nodded, as if he’d figured something out.

“Let a real wizard try,” he said, his deep voice bellowing.

“You fool,” said Adremor. “If my magic can’t ope—“

Uzax cut him off, raising his hands in front of him with a quick gesture. He then formed his fingers into claws, swirling his hands around as if stirring something in a great pot. Crackles of spark and flame began appearing, growing larger and larger by the second.

Adremor started, “If this fire blows back the way my force spell did, we—“

“Silence!” called out Uzax before turning his attention back to the growing flames at his fingers.

The fire grew and grew until it was a large, smoldering orb in front of him, the sight appearing to Ben as if the wizard had somehow summoned a small sun of his own. Then, a massive jet of molten heat burst forth out of the orb, rushing toward the door. A deep orange glowed around the flames as they connected, dripping molten lava falling onto the ground before it.

Ben watched with wide eyes, certain the flames would be powerful enough to destroy the door.

But they weren’t. When the flames vanished, the door remained standing.

“How the hell is that possible?” asked Ben. “He blasted the door with a solid jet of molten lava!”

“Perhaps some kind of magical barrier?” offered Sir Gallant the Younger, clearly just as surprised as Ben was. “No doubt the Forgotten Ruler would’ve taken care to ensure the interior of the tower was just as fortified as the exterior.”

Back on the screen, the wizards clearly weren’t taking the news well.

“You idiot!” shouted Adremor. “You did nothing, and now the room is a furnace!”

Ben narrowed his eyes to see that the foreheads of the wizards were slicked with sweat. Lexi, still at the table, washed her face with water from a cup to cool herself down.

“Be careful with your words, cur,” snarled Uzax. “It simply needs another blast.”

“Are you a halfwit?” asked Adremor, his eyes wide. “Your spell heated the air in the room, not to mention that if this space is sealed you’ll burn up all the air!”

But Uzax paid him no mind. He swirled his hands in front of him once more, preparing to blast another jet of flame.

“You do that again, and you’ll kill us!” shouted Adremor.

Ben watched the events carefully.

Maybe they’ll solve this problem for me.

Uzax persisted, and moments later, another jet of

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