I walk in a straight line for an hour, resting whenever I have to or when there's that strange moan of a Sloth. It's frustratingly odd how often this Sloth is passing me by like it's hunting me... or maybe there's more than one Sloth out here? The only reassuring thing is that their moans allow me to track them constantly. But if I make one mistake I may die by their claws. 

I climb down my third tree, breathing heavily as I lean into it. I don't know how much longer I can last. My whole body is screaming and I'm spitting more blood by the minute. Hands quivering I struggle to take out my emergency pill, and inhaler. 

As the day progresses it's getting darker and darker, if I want any chance of survival I have to find a place to sleep away from these horrible sloths. I stiffen as there's a different noise. Paying close attention I recognize it as splashing water. As suddenly as the realization comes my thirst becomes unbearable. Pushing through the forest, I stopped just before I fell to my death. I've reached a drop-off, with nothing but air below. 

I was deep in the rainforest where the canopy of trees blocked any sky view. Now I've escaped the shadows, I can properly see my surroundings. I am on a floating island, with other islands of various sizes, shapes, and directions surrounding me. Some are upside down, and sideways, and others are tilted like saucers. All of them are full of trees, running water, and animals not falling to their doom. Still, to confirm such a thing, I reach for a stone tossing it up high. One of the gravitational pulls of the islands stole the stone, and it slammed into the island causing ruckas as animals screech and bolt in terror. 

If gravity has no meaning, my Island can be upside down too for all I know. Shaking that strange feeling away, I check out the closest ones. Down below me is a small oasis-like island and to my side is a plot of land with a single tree. I'd like to get to the tree, but its gravity might not be as strong as a larger island and I may get hurt. The best one to get to would be the oasis, it's not that far and it's below me. 

A low sorrowful moan echoes around me, terror chilling me to the bone. I fearfully shift lower into the bush, eyes darting around. I have the worst luck, the island I've landed on is the territory of a Sloth, and it's going around in circles hunting. No wonder I kept meeting up with it. 

Quietly I gather a spool of vines, tying and knotting them together before wrapping it around a sturdy tree. Like an old gym school movie with the kids climbing the ropes, I slowly lower myself down to the treetops of the oasis below. I run out before I get there, but I'm close enough I can break my fall with the tree branches. Gathering all my courage, I let go tumbling and scrapping myself as I land hard on the ground. Not hard enough to break anything but I do go in a coughing fit. 

A little moody and grumpy, I stagger to my feet brushing the dirt and dust. Not that it really did anything to help my filthy self. 

I think others have been here before, like a camping spot everyone fights for during the summer. There's a pre-made fireplace pit with rocks, burnt charcoal, and wood. A smoothed-out area where people have placed their tents and sleeping backs. If others slept here, then it must be safe enough for me to sleep here. 

I kick dust into the firepit staring into it. If I were a main character in a tv show, I'd be able to figure out the age of the fire and how long it's been since the last person was here. I don't even know how to start this fire back up. 

There's a rustle of movement behind me. Fearful I grab a stick and spin around pointing it at a surprised short man who drops his pile of sticks. He looks young, about my age, and a foot shorter than I. He's dressed in nice dark brown robes with a crowl bunching around his neck, its long triangle-shaped sleeves don't go past his wrist in the front but go to his ankles in the back. 

Beautiful oceanic pale green eyes are wide in surprise, his thin mouth agape. He reaches up pushing back his brown hair behind half-foot long tipped ears pierced with silver and gold earrings, and the top a long line of feathers. He points to himself, "Cornelian." And with a smile points at me. 

"Jill," 

The smile on his face brightens by several degrees, he picks up his fallen sticks tossing them into the pit. Then he slings his backpack from over his shoulders. Rummaging inside he pulls out this odd-looking leather thing as big as a gallon of milk. He uncorks the metal top, taking a long drink before handing it to me. 

I sniff and take a sip. It's fresh cold water. Seriously thirsty I kept drinking until my stomach could no longer handle any more. With a happy gasp, I took a breath. Cornelian, he's really aware of my situation. His slow movements, and his consideration of drinking the water first. 

While I was drinking the water Cornelian moved about the camp and pulled out way too many items from his humble-looking backpack. A foldable table, pots and pans, plates and bowls, and cooking tools. Curious I walk on over leaning over his shoulder to watch him preparing to chop up vegetables. He notices giving me another brilliant smile pointing to the fireplace. I think he wants me to gather wood. 

"Sure," I say heading out to collect as much wood as I can find in this oasis. 

 Nodding, I went on collecting. "Um, can you speak Coggaod." I ask while dumping an armload. 

He glances over to me and says something I don't understand. "I guess not." I sigh aching for conversation. 

It doesn't take me long until I fill all of the fireplace with wood. I hear those same musical words and I turn to Cornelian waving me over showing me an array of herbs and berries on a thick sheet of paper like a towel. What's this about? I questionly shrug, and he laughs lightly. It's a rather sweet laugh. He brings out a motor and pestle to grind all the herbs before squeezing the berry juices and rolling two herb balls. He hands me one and eats the other. 

Oh! He wanted to show me the entire process so I would know it was safe to eat. 

I stare at the round blue-black ball slightly leaking with juice. I trust him. I take a bite and nearly spit it out. It's so sour! It's stinging my tongue and twisting my lips. Tearing up I force myself to swallow it, following after it with a large gulp of cold water. "So gross," 

"It is isn't it." A masculine but soft voice asks. 

Surprised, I ask, "Did... did you speak Coggoad!?" 

He laughs with a smile, "I am afraid not. I'm speaking elven, and you are speaking Coggoad. The medicine we both took was infused with magic allowing us to communicate. Anyone who has had this same spell placed on them will also understand you. And you will understand them." He cleans up his mess. "Were you perhaps taken here by a storm?" 

I briskly ran to the other side of the table, "I was! Please tell me what's going on. My sister and brother were also taken. I can't find them. And I saw this strange thing up there that moans and wiggles on the ground like a worm." 

He pauses his chopping, gaping at me. "You survived a Sloth?" 

"Um... I hid from it." 

"You are lucky. Very few survive an encounter with a Sloth." 

"I see I wasn't far off with its name. I called it a Ground Sloth because it creepily pulled itself forward." 

 

Once more his laugh rings out. "That's not a bad name." 

"Where are we?" I ask leaning and sniffing the herbs and vegetables in a bowl. 

"It's gonna be a long story." He pulls out of the bag a huge grill mesh and a lighter. "Can you put this over the fire and start it? Oh and here this too," He also hands me a bag of charcoal, "Just a little bit of those, too many and you may lose your eyebrows like I did." 

I giggle, "You lost your eyebrows?" 

"I did." He laughs with me. 

I point at the bag, "How do all of these fit in there?" 

"We call it an Endless Bag. A friend of mine, Daretmaetelin tells me it's a dwarven invention and very commonplace where her parents are from." He sets the bag under the table, "My friends and I have three bags. I have the camp bag." 

"You're here with your friends?" 

"Yes, you'll meet them soon. We total seven people." 

"Why aren't they with you?" 

"We were scouting a path when we were lucky and found a hidden path. But it's a little late so we all decided to come back here rest, and tomorrow go through the path." 

"I see..." The fire burns roughly at first but settles to a popping sparking sizzle. "So what's this long story?" 

"We are on a planet called Malkuth. It's a very evil place." He places a pot full of water over the grill, "The god of this place kidnaps people and items spitting it all over. You were very unlucky with where the Sweep took you. That's what we call these special storms. Sweeps... I never knew that a person could be taken inside a Tower... I suppose those who were, never survived to tell the tale." 

"Tower?" I ask, helping him with the rest of the cooking. 

"Another part to our story. That evil god, the one who made Malkuth, told the first people kidnapped that if they wanted to go back home they had to enter the Towers and collect the keys at the top. However, the god tricked the poor people who believed it would take only one key to open a way back home. Instead, it took seven keys, and only seventy people could leave. So began the creation of Guilds where people trained to climb towers. That's what we are, Climbers." 

This... is a lot to take in. He notices my silence handing me a small cylinder pink stick, "Don't swallow, it tastes good when chewed." 

I nibble on it, he's right. It has a bubble gum taste to it. He continues with his story, "Towers, like this." He waves around us, "Defies logic, defies magic, defies nature." He sits next to me chewing on his own stick, "Even if we were not in search of the key, Towers have to be destroyed. They create Miasma, and Miasma creates Uraqur. That Sloth is a dangerous M4 Uraqur... I'll teach you the system later."

"If you can enter a Tower, is there an exit?" 

He freezes, and with a soft sigh shakes his head, "When you enter a tower, you have to destroy its core to leave."