9. Chapter 9
Milo
Milo didn’t skip to the first tower, mostly because he had a pail of paint in his hands he really didn’t want to spill, but his heart was skipping. He had Rowan to himself today, and he could finally start a task that would take some stress off his lover. Two pluses.
Milo wore his new cloak this morning, but only because the wind coming off the sea and to the top of the cliffside fortress was beyond nippy.
He didn’t wear his hat or gloves, though; it wasn’t cold enough to warrant those.
With his most comfortable boots and ready-to-work clothes on, he was ready to tackle the mammoth projects ahead of him.
Well, maybe he’d get to them, if he could keep his eyes off Rowan for more than a second.
His boyfriend had donned his captain’s uniform—a dark green and black tunic that looked downright delicious on him, the fit emphasizing his muscular frame while the colors made his vibrant hair and beard stand out even more.
He looked like an officer ready to command his men on the battlefield, all the way down to his ever-present greatsword faithfully at his side. Damn, Milo did love a man in uniform.
But the day was a good one for working, thankfully. Bright blue sky, a few clouds, no weather in sight to threaten them with. Since Milo needed to paint many things, he mentally blessed the goddess of weather for her benevolence.
They were walking for the simple reason that riding a horse from watchtower to watchtower didn’t make sense.
According to Rowan, it would only take a few minutes’ walk in each direction, so it was quite manageable even with the extra supplies.
Milo needed to give a blueprint for the barrier, in essence, so once he started, he’d mark the ground as he walked.
It had to be in a straight line, too, so he would use a guiding spell marking the ground in a bright white line.
Two spells at once wasn’t difficult, but trying to do two spells, guide a horse, and not spill paint at the same time? Doomed. So, he walked.
Rowan kept pace with him easily, a picnic basket in one hand.
That had been smart on his part. They could stop and eat lunch without trekking all the way back to the fortress.
Milo would really prefer to get the barrier and the communication sigils back up today, if at all possible.
It would make for a long-ass day, granted.
His lover watched the area as they walked to the first watchtower.
Rowan wasn’t super obvious about it, but the way he panned his head every now and again showed he was watching for trouble.
He wasn’t just assuming the area was safe, especially since they’d had a recent Drachifel attack.
Milo appreciated his caution. It was, unfortunately, easy to sneak up on him while he was doing spellwork. Mostly because he got lost in the work.
There weren’t many trees in this section of the duchy, and Milo spotted a patrol of six uniformed men just up ahead of them, heading west toward the cliff face. He indicated them with a jerk of his chin. “Are they looking for something in particular?”
“No, just patrolling. I have three units walking the perimeter right now.”
“Aren’t they normally in the watchtowers?”
“I told them to stay clear today so you can work. I wasn’t sure if someone being in the tower would mess with the process.”
“Oh.” So par for the course of his thoughtful boyfriend. “No, them being in this area wouldn’t do anything to the spells I’m working. They would absolutely distract me, though, so good call.”
Rowan bent a knowing eye on him. “You do love to chat.”
“Second favorite hobby,” Milo agreed brightly.
“Right after eating?”
“You know me well.”
Rowan snorted, and was that an amused smile playing around his eyes? Milo loved the fact Rowan found him so funny. He did try his best, after all.
The first tower sat on a lower section of the cliff, looking out over the sea.
Milo could see why they’d built one there, as it was part lighthouse, part watchtower, with a huge mage globe sitting on the roof to help guide the ships.
There was also a sloped pathway nearby, leading down to a small port with only one vessel currently docked.
Milo walked up the four flights of stairs—ye gods, he’d be exhausted at the end of the day with all of these stairs—and to the top part of the tower.
Well, without actually climbing onto the roof.
He did poke his head through the trapdoor up top to double-check the mage light. It seemed fine. Perfect, really.
Milo knew why, too.
Grumbling, he came right back down, seriously unhappy with the previous mages.
Rowan picked up on this mood and asked with concern, “Is the mage light bad?”
“Huh? Oh, no, no, it’s fine. It just pisses me off that the one thing those previous mages chose to properly fix was also the easiest. Doesn’t matter how big you make a mage light, it’s a simple spell.
First year apprentices do it to cut their teeth on.
Pisses me off they’d do a perfect job here when the ward was just as vital. ”
From the dark cloud of anger that swept over Rowan’s face, he was pissed now too.
Well, Milo had already reported the bastards; sadly, he couldn’t do anything else. Right now, he had to focus on the more productive things, like the barrier and sigil.
The communication sigil, at least, was very obvious.
It stood in the middle of the room on an iron plate set into the stone floor, standing upright.
The sigil itself was in a faded blue with missing spots.
Damn, no wonder it wasn’t working. Just as he’d suspected, rain, snow, and various other elements had likely come in through the large open windows, wearing down the paint.
Milo put down the paint and brush for a moment, whipping out his wand and hitting the sigil with a removal spell.
Then he spelled the paint, which wasn’t a complex process, and once done, swapped wand for brush.
He dipped the brush into the paint, getting a good coating.
The sigil wasn’t complex to draw out. Bless the original mage who’d designed it that way.
A little curvy line with a swoop at the bottom, a dot in the curve, and presto! All done.
Milo leveled his brush at the completed sigil and intoned, “Thou shalt work and not give me trouble.”
“Uh”—Rowan studied him, brow screwed up in this perplexed way—“was that the spell?”
“Huh? No, spell’s done. That was a warning. It had better work, or I’ll wipe it clean and redo it if it doesn’t. Anyway, done and off to the next!”
“I thought you said this would take you an hour?”
“I thought it would, honestly. I didn’t realize there was an iron plate put in for this purpose. Most people try to chisel something into the building, and then I have to dig out all the old paint to reapply it. Much more tedious.”
“Oh. I’m glad for this design, then.”
“Me too.” Milo might actually get done before sunset if all the sigils were a similar structure.
Once back down and out the door, Milo started up the guiding spell, starting it right from the outer wall of the watchtower.
He wanted the towers to be inside the barrier, not outside of it.
He’d have to tweak the spell to allow the mage globe to be seen by incoming ships, but his plan would still work.
Then he carefully walked the line, using his wand to throw down spikes every now and again in the grass.
Each spike shot up like a rod of pure light, not only marking the way, but they would eventually be the supports for the barrier.
Milo miiiiight have overdone it—he used twice the number of spikes he’d normally put in—but in this case? Better safe than sorry.
The second watchtower was on the opposite side of the cliff, to the west. Only a few minutes’ walk, and they did exactly the same thing. Go up four flights, remove the sigil, replace the sigil, go back down the stairs.
At the fourth tower, they paused at the top to have lunch. Milo happily downed sun tea, three hearty sandwiches, potato crisps, and the sliced fruit. Rowan merely shook his head, amused more than anything about Milo’s appetite, and didn’t say a word.
The day wore on as he worked, the sun slowly rising, then just as slowly heading back toward the horizon.
Milo could feel the drain on his magical core as he worked.
Of course doing two different things at once would drain him, but that was fine.
He’d expected as much, and it wasn’t like this amount would put him in danger.
Once he had the barrier completely up, he could rest a little tomorrow as he finalized the ward’s design.
That and make up some fire-suppression charms.
When they finally made it all the way around to the eighth tower, Milo huffed a breath of relief. His calves were aching from all of those damned stairs, sweat beaded his forehead from the constant magic usage, and he just wanted to lie down somewhere with his feet up.
All right, time to do this. Last push. Milo put the last anchor for the barrier into the ground, then pulled Rowan well away from the line. “Once this is up, only humans or beasts can come through. Any type of monster will bounce right off.”
“Perfect.”
Milo lifted his wand like an orchestra conductor and gave the barrier its final spell, uniting all of it. “Complete barrier.”
The barrier snapped into being with an audible hum, like a milky white pane wrapping around the whole area.
Milo ran a diagnostic spell to make sure it was working properly across the board, and it seemed to be, as nothing pinged back.
Good. In the distance, he could hear cheering, so those within sight of the barrier were clearly celebrating.
Their response made Milo’s heart dance around with joy.
Rowan’s breath of relief was audible. He wrapped Milo in a back hug, tone heartfelt. “Thank you.”