?Push VIII?Anything I have control over, I can record. The skeleton casts the spell again on the same target when I cast the spell, which meant I controlled the skeleton, at least for this. I needn’t record all aspects of a spell, that was the shortcut magic was founded on.

  Push IX: Push an object with 15400lbs of force for up to half an hour.

  Even the ogre’s endless strength had to have a limit. Surely. And if not, the beetles couldn’t resist my spell forever.

  It was only mid afternoon when I was done according to Cillian, but I felt as though I hadn’t slept in days.

  I leaned back against the wall next to the hearth and let the warmth and conversation wash over me. I rested more than slept. Pain kept me from falling fully asleep. Even lying down was a losing prospect, but I dozed. Dozed and dreamt of trees reaching for the light. Wrapping round me, blocking out the sky.

  But I was a dryad, had been since I’d eaten that unfortunate corpse. I wondered if she had been restored when I’d returned back in time, or like the waterskins, was forever stolen. I told the trees to move and they obeyed.

  I could see the sky.

  I could see the albatross which flew high above.

  ***

  I was the first to wake.

  Tom’s house was a rare refuge. A place where we could sleep without shifts, without one ear always ready for what came next down the corridor. Only the huldra weren’t exhausted. The others slept heavily; as babes who had just finished crying. None woke as I stirred. A death sentence anywhere else. Necessary here.

  I slipped through the door to the corner of the strange smelling room and cast my spell.

  I sat and readied my spellbook. My jaw was still aching. ?Regenerate?. Greater Heal IIII. Greater Heal III. Greater Heal. The pain began to fade.

  Regenerate II: The caster’s body heals as though from 2 years of restful sleep over the course of an hour.

  Regenerate II

  I made sure to keep my jaw moving as the healing surged through me. It was like grabbing the druid stone all over again. Four years of deep healing in an hour. Nearly two weeks every minute.

  After half an hour I was feeling brave enough to try eating some fish.

  Miracle of miracles, it didn’t hurt. Didn’t hurt more than normal anyway. By the time it finished it was as if my jaw had never been injured. The lacerations on my skin were gone from the splitting as well. My mind was even clearer. A headache I’d not realized existed had ceased its throbbing.

  The others were awake. They didn’t seem to have noticed my transcendence. Perhaps the pain was a private thing, or perhaps they simply expected miracles of mages.

  When all had finished breakfast I called Attart to me.

  “Ready to continue?”

  “Sweet Mistress Attart is ever ready,” she said, then she blushed, though I wasn’t sure why.

  Angrboda caught us at the door, “We are leaving as well. Will the others be safe?”

  “As safe as they can be. Anything the walls and swords cannot handle, you will not make the difference. Go in peace.”

  She smiled, “You as well. It has been a pleasure to deal with those who do not invite conflict with us on sight for who we are.”

  “I can only try to amend for my own past mistakes.”

  They through the door I’d never been through, where darkness gaped and the smell of the sea filled the air. From there what paths they would follow I did not know. Attart locked the door behind them.

  Then Attart and I headed for the stairs, through the room where the goblins still kept their bargain.

  They would be the biggest threat to Brace’s party, though the way was barred and trapped. It could be that few creatures wandered in these halls, for fears of encounter those even more terrible. I didn’t doubt the toad-dragon would appreciate a goblin horde entering its lair.

  ***

  Half an hour’s descent then half an hour more brought us first to the second floor, then the third. Attart didn’t slow me as much this descent as she had before, not because she was faster, but because I was slower. It turned out height was important on stairs when you weighed as much as I did.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  The door had stopped burning, though the room still smelled of smoke. The torches were all dead. Outside my radiance the dungeon was dark. I could develop a complex if I let the imagery go to my head.

  Past the door the corridor forked both left and right. The right was a dead end, but the left held a shoddy wooden door concealed behind a curtain. We couldn’t see the curtain from where I was standing, but my ring revealed it on the far side of the door.

  Magic Swords II

  Something was unusual about my spell, which in other words meant everything was proceeding as normal for the Bleak Fort.

  For one thing, I didn’t have control over my spell. For the other, unlikely my Soldier’s Swords, the will-o’-wisps and swords were moving anyway.

  “Get back!” I called as the swords crashed into the door.

  It wasn’t anything different from what I would have done, but there was no telling what they’d choose to destroy next. I’d end the spell the moment the turned, but my reflexes weren’t perfect.

  The door didn’t stand a chance.

  I tensed as it crashed to the floor, but that was the end of it. The jack-o’-lanterns flew forward to (presumably) illuminate the room while the swords stood at the ready.

  I cautiously approached.

  The swords waited, then moved out as I drew near enough to see into the room, providing a vanguard to any foes.

  Sentience?

  They didn’t seem hostile.

  I stalked the sword on my right straight over to the statue of the dead Magus until I was able to press my hand against its blade. It didn’t strike back, nor even react. Merely 500 pounds of force suspended in mid air.

  “It’s safe!” I called back to Attart, “Safe enough.”

  “Have you not walked these paths before?”

  “The journey was never safe, and the dungeon ever finds new ways to turn my spells against me.”

  The question was, were the swords for or against me?

  Magic Swords II: Two invisible blades dance and strike with the base force of 484 lbs. One for 45 minutes, the other for an hour. Two lights, bright as candles, swirl about it, rising into existence just before the blade appears for the first time and dying an hour after it vanishes. Two more lights join in at the end of the first hour, and end an hour after the first lights fade, providing 3 hours of light total. All move to further the goals of their master.

  “Move to further the goals of their master.”

  It took me a moment to decipher, as the rune was exceptionally complicated. It was also far less complicated than it should have been. Impossible. Sentience couldn’t be bound simply by willing it. The nature of spells meant control was paramount. Free will was antithesis to the principle of writing.

  The swords moved.

  I leapt back, but I was not their target. The statue of the corpse bearing the raiment of a Magus was.

  I grabbed Attart up in my arms as I ran. The gas had been slow last time, but I couldn’t remember how slow. The stairs were a long way away.

  I spared a glance as I exited the room. Red billowing clouds were already starting to rise. My swords were nowhere in sight.

  “Sir! What is Sir doing? This is most improper.”

  Her brain would catch up with her mouth in a moment. I tucked my chin around her shoulder to lower both our profiles and kept running. I couldn’t spare the breath to answer her. Not when I was carrying as much as I was.

  Miraculously, I made it to the steps without stumbling. I should have thought of that sooner. I was heavy enough a hard fall might seriously injure Attart. Kill her, even. She was tiny.

  I placed her on the third step and ran up beside her.

  “We need... go higher...” the Dark Altar hadn’t improved my stamina. My strength helped, but armour, heavy gear, and an entire woman were a lot for a small man to carry, no matter how strong.

  “Is Sir alright?”

  I stopped ten steps above the ground, “Here... should be fine. I’m okay. Don’t know what that gas does. It should fade soon.”

  “Has Sir seen it before?”

  Tom was fighting back today.

  “Last time I was here I travelled with one of the huldra. Gunhild. It was shortly before we parted ways.”

  “Did something happen?”

  “The gas was fine. We got away in time. Beyond statue is an ancient cave, probably one of the original structures the dungeon was built around. A short ways after that is a room filled with undead chained to the walls.”

  A howl reverberated down the hall and up the stairs to punctuate my claim.

  “Is that where the sounds come from Sir?”

  “One of the locations. They didn’t stop after we laid the dead to rest. It wasn’t a pretty fight. I nearly died and attacked Gunhild in my panic. I thought I was saving her from another gas attack. The injury destroyed her disguise. She fled me after that.”

  My voice choked at the end. The event had never happened and it had never happened a long time ago. A month into the future that would never be. But it was still fresh in my mind. Betrayal on all sides. The tragedy of what was and what could have been.

  Attart rested her hand on my shoulder, “Can you handle the undead this time?”

  I’d rather not. I’d take the door straight at the bottom of the stairs if I could find my way forward from there. If the creature of many voices didn’t lurk there. More spiders, perhaps?

  “The undead aren’t the problem. It’s the chains. They are alive and will seek to bind us. There must be some trick to it. Gunhild and I were almost certain Brace’s party went through there.”

  “We could ask. We are waiting for the gas anyway.”

  We could ask.

  Why had I never thought of that before?

  I turned my head so she could see me smile, “I suppose we could. I'm not alone anymore.”