Portals, Self, Teleport. The aspects sparked off each other, refusing to connect no matter what Ted tried. He had to be missing something, but what?

He grunted and put aside the need to craft it from scratch. No matter how tricky the aspects were, he’d crack them eventually, but right now, he needed results.

Ted pulled up the Teleport spell Jeremy had taught him, the spell he’d promised not to cast for a long time, and studied the tangled web that held it together. Just staring at it made his head spin, but, with the aid of more experience and a fourth level in Discern Magic, the gimmick was obvious.

Following the individual threads of the spell led to apparent dead ends, seemingly unconnected to anything else. Looking now, Ted could make out the hidden links bridging them, the way they disappeared in one place and reappeared in another.

Ted snorted. Portals within portals. No wonder it hadn’t made sense, it was riddled with goto statements. Not that it all made sense now, but at least why wasn’t a mystery.

Many of the threads were duplicates, there to reinforce the long-range spell. With a lower potency, most of those could be pruned, even if their exact purpose wasn’t clear. After a few minutes of work, he had a leaner, cheaper, and easier to cast spell.

“I’m ready.” The weight in his chest hardened. Any one of those threads could have done something vital that he’d missed. “I’ll test it first. Might as well get a skill level in Portals.”

Cara’s eyes went wide. “A skill level? From one spell?”

“Only the first level. I haven’t cast any Portals magic yet, so…”

She squinted and ground her teeth together.

“That’s not normal, is it?”

“No wonder I gained two levels in Energy magic earlier! Do you have any idea—” She waved her finger in front of him, growled, and retreated to the far side of the tunnel. “Forget it. Do your thing, just don’t blow us up.”

Ted nodded and buffed up with Absorb. Here goes nothing. He focused inward, imagining himself an inch off the ground, and cast the spell.

“Raka-fa!”

Blue magic swirled across Ted’s vision, shifting the world down an inch. His stomach lurched for an instant, and his feet hit the ground again.

Portals magic skill increased 0 → 1!

First teleport, successful. Practically to the same spot, sure, but at least he was in one piece.

Cara offered up her hand. “High… five?”

He chuckled and clapped his palm against hers. “A little premature, don’t you think?”

“You’re right. We don’t know if I’m getting my bow or not.”

Heat flared in his chest. Seriously?

She flashed a grin and giggled. She was kidding.

Mostly kidding.

Was having a top-quality bow really that bad just because someone else made it?

Her smile wavered. “Can you do it?”

“Maybe.” Ted bit at his lip, still unsure how to tell her. Holding out a slim hope they’d solve the problem, he checked out the Portals perks.

Stability (0/5): Increases stability of Portals magic by 20% per level.

Power (0/5): Increases potency of Portals magic by 20% per level.

Quick Cast (0/5): Increases casting speed of Portals magic by 20% per level.

Accuracy (0/5): Increases accuracy of Portals magic by 20% per level.

Without a Trace (0/5): Increases difficulty of tracking your Portals magic by 50% per level.

Cast in Motion (0/5): Decreases the accuracy and movement speed penalty from casting Portals magic while moving by 20% per level.

No luck, not that he’d expected it. Of those perks, Accuracy or Stability were the obvious choices, given the risks involved. As tempting as Stability was, dropping the potency would achieve similar results.

Messing with the potency of the spell confirmed that, like damage, distance scaled linearly—one foot times the product of potency and Intelligence. Given his relatively high Intelligence, hopefully he wouldn’t need to be pushing Portals spells to the limit any time soon.

Hopefully. He chuckled to himself, half-wishing there was a Wisdom stat he could dump points into as well.

Accuracy it was, then. Not a bad idea given the possibility of rematerializing in a stone wall. That left only one problem. “I can do it, but… I can’t teleport you.”

“Why not?” Cara’s brow wrinkled. “I’m not staying here.”

“All I’ve got is a toned-down version of the one Jeremy gave me, and that’s self-cast only.”

She tilted her head and continued to stare. Did she think he was lying to protect her? Or did she just want to hear him say it?

Ted sighed. Fine, whatever. “I haven’t worked out how to craft it—yet.”

A smirk spread across her face. “Well, none of us are perfect. Good thing I’m fast. So, the door?”

“It isn’t held in place by magic that I can tell. A well-placed blast should do the trick.”

“Blasting open the door? I like it!” She rubbed her hands together and gestured across the courtyard. “Target practice awaits.”

It was too far away to tell which way the door opened. Hopefully inward. The alternative would make for a far more interesting challenge.

Ted readied a Force/Projectile/Blast spell. Taking aim at the door, he tugged at his mana, guiding it into the spell.

Tension flickered in his arms. What if he’d missed a trap?

“Ronka!”

The white bolt streaked forward, and a bang echoed through the courtyard as the blast exploded harmlessly against the wall.

“A warm-up,” Ted said. “Doesn’t count.”

“One!”

Glaring at her only provoked a bigger grin. He shook his head and refocused on the target, casting a second time. She couldn’t count misses if he hit. “Ronka!”

A higher pitched bang echoed this time—a direct hit. The door swung open. Ted breathed a sigh of relief, only for the door to thud closed again almost immediately.

“Two!”

He gestured to the door and held up his hands. “I hit!”

“Door looks shut to me.”

“That it does.” Ted smiled. He wouldn’t be firing the next shot. “Let’s see how well you do.”

Ted demonstrated Blastbolt over and over. Accuracy wasn’t the point, but that didn’t stop Cara keeping a running total of his misses.

“Twenty-one,” Cara said, rather less enthusiastically than before. “I got it—let’s do this!”

There’d be less misses if you’d learned faster. “Sure. First, though, I need a Hold spell that actually works.”

Ted turned the Weak Hold spell over in his mind, trying to understand the logic behind its vast array of threads, almost none of which seemed necessary. What did they do? Why were they there? Why did the spell barely hold together, despite being pitifully weak and costing an arm and a leg in mana?

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Haphazard mana flows collided and canceled each other out. They weren’t feedback loop, at least, but, really, why? Was he missing something? He shook his head. No, probably not. No wonder Jeremy had called it useless. Hopefully, whoever had made this hadn’t given up their day job.

A knife twisted in his gut. If they hadn’t made it as a deliberate joke, the Spellcrafter had probably blown themselves up not long after making this spell.

A shiver ran down Ted’s spine, the pain still fresh in his mind. That wasn’t a pleasant way to go. Maybe they had been a Hero too? That was a more interesting thought. Any of the spells he’d learned might be older than human civilization.

These ruins were older than human civilization. Hell, almost everything here was.

Cara bounded back into view. “Are you ready yet?”

He held up his hand. She’d taken long enough learning the blastbolt spell, she could wait a minute or two.

He tossed aside the Weak Hold spell and started from scratch, making sure the new spell had the same projectile speed and a slightly longer cast time than Blastbolt. The finished product was a wonder to behold—higher potency, higher stability, longer duration, and cheaper to cast.

A niggling dryness at the back of Ted’s throat suggested that creating a spell better in every way shouldn’t have been that easy, not without training. What if he’d missed something?

He sipped at his canteen. Cool water flowed down his throat, soothing the discomfort for only a moment. Most Spellcrafters would have been done the first time they blew themselves up, and those that didn’t would have to work far harder to gain the same skill levels he had. Being a Hero was a huge edge.

Besides, even if no one had trained him, the wood elven book had gotten him started. And that was before thinking about transferable skills—it really wasn’t so different from circuit design or learning a new programming language.

Still bouncing from side to side, Cara leaned forward, clapped her hands together, and grinned. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.” He paused and checked over the spell one last time. “Ready. We should stand on opposite sides, though.”

She nodded and positioned herself as far away as she could. She’d seen what could go wrong.

He buffed them both with a longer duration Absorb, giving her plenty of time to zero in on the target. “Start casting on three?”

Another nod. She planted her feet wide and locked her gaze on the target. Her lips pressed together and her jaw clenched. “One. Two. Three.”

Ted’s casting flowed smoothly, motion and mana working together as one. A beautiful cast, a shame it would be wasted as Cara would need a few shots to get to grips with Blastbolt.

“Ronka!” Cara’s Blastbolt hissed through the air.

“Firka!” A shimmering white projectile flew from Ted’s hand.

A high-pitched bang rung out and the door swung open. Ted’s hold spell clinked pointlessly against stone, several inches wide.

“Twenty-two!” Her grin was back, wider than ever.

He gave her the look, as ineffective as ever. Did she have any sense of decorum? “Alright, what’s the trick?”

“You’re focusing on a spot, right?”

“Yeah, the middle of the door.”

She raised an eyebrow and shook her head. “Pick an exact spot. You see that grain, the big one, right in the middle?”

“You expect me to pick out individual grains, from here?”

Her mouth opened and shut again. “Sorry. High Perception helps. Dexterity, too. You’ll get it! Again?”

He nodded. No way he was missing again. “One. Two. Three.”

“Ronka!”

“Firka!”

Bang! The door swung open.

Clonk! White Force magic shimmered across the door, holding it open.

Ted frowned, and a shiver ran down his spine. The door was open, but traps still lined the courtyard. Traps that Cara would now have to run past. He swallowed. “Ready?”

She blinked, pasted on a smile, and crouched just shy of the first trap danger zone. “Ready.”

“As soon as I finish casting, run.” His chest closed in around him. If he’d worked out how to craft Teleport spells, she wouldn’t be stuck doing this.

If.

He sighed and cast a short, high potency Absorb spell upon her. “Go!”

Her coiled legs exploded, propelling her up the path. A fireball hissed behind her, missing by a foot. A second, third, fourth, fifth fireball, each missing by less and less.

Ice filled his chest. He clenched up, his breath held. She wasn’t going to make it, but he couldn’t look away.

She passed a trap and stopped on a dime. Ted’s heart skipped a beat. Fire rushed behind her.

She stepped back. A fireball flew an inch in front of her. Maybe she would make it after all.

Bait, evade, advance. His heart pounded, threatening to explode with her every step.

The Absorb shimmered and died. She was taking too long. A single slip, a single mistake—

He gulped. She’d make it.

Three to go. Two. He clenched his eyes shut. One.

“Your turn!”

Ted peeked out and there she was, grinning and waving as if nothing had happened. A cascade of muscles loosened their grip and the air in his lungs rushed for freedom. “I’ll be right behind you.”

What was a single spell compared to what she just did? He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, clearing his mind.

He could do this. He had to.

Reopening his eyes, he focused on the room beyond the door. Cara darted to the side, clearing the path.

The traps didn’t matter, only the spell, and focusing on the destination.

Reddish-brown panels lined the back wall. The floor was polished, some kind of marble, perhaps. He held himself apart from both in his mind. The target destination was above the floor, not in it.

Above the floor. Between the walls. Center of the room.

He beckoned his mana and wove it into the spell, non-Euclidian goto jumps and all.

Above the floor. Between the walls. Center of the room.

The spell sealed. “Raka-fa!”

Blue streaks flashed by. Everything lurched and span. His vision blurred. His stomach heaved. He doubled over and gagged, barely holding it down.

Blinking slowly, the world drifted back into focus. Wooden panels flanked the doorway back to the gatehouse. A faintly shimmering wooden door. Cara standing in the corner looking decidedly sheepish.

Ted pulled his hand to his stomach and bent his knees, fighting to stay upright. How the hell had Jeremy gone straight into battle after that?

“Err…” Cara held her finger up, paused, and brought her hand back to her chin. She nibbled on her fingertip and avoided his gaze. “I might have just remembered… something?”

He waved his hand dismissively as a groan rumbled from his belly. Whatever it was, it could wait.

“When Jeremy teleports, he always ends up facing the same way.” Her head tilted up and away. “I think so, anyway.”

Another round of groans forced themselves out of Ted. That sounded about right, no doubt related to angular momentum. “Thanks. I’ll try that next time.”

After more than enough feeling sorry for himself, he pulled upright and looked around. Other than the two of them, the room was empty. The wooden panels—mahogany, perhaps, or close enough—continued around the entire room. There weren’t any doors besides the one they’d come through. No furniture, no library, no nothing.

One way in, one way out. He frowned and shook his head. “What are we missing?”

Cara bounced around the room, touching and feeling the walls in random places. “What’s there to miss?” She paused, looked around, and headed to a corner of the room. “Maybe it’s invisible.”

She walked along the edge of the room, working her way inward in a search pattern. Ted headed to the opposite side and started there. If there was anything invisible, they’d find it.

They came face to face in the middle of the room. Nothing, not even a hint. He patted her on the shoulder. “It was a good idea.”

“Didn’t work.” She frowned and her gaze darted around the room. “There has to be something!”

The walls were, as expected, heavily enchanted to protect them. Beyond that, Discern Magic came up empty. Archeologist’s Sight continued prodding at his awareness, proudly informing him that it was rather strange to have an empty room like this.

Tell me something I don’t know.

No response, but the prodding stopped, at least. Why would they protect an empty room? What did the Battlemages want? Combat? Spells? Gold?

A challenge.

Hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. How did he know that? It wasn’t an unreasonable conclusion, but he knew it to be true. Cultured Explorer? He stiffened up. It had to be. Eerie as the perk was, it was a damn sight more useful than informing him an empty room was weird.

They wanted a challenge—he’d give them one. “Ready yourself. I have a really bad idea.”

Cara nocked an arrow and her face lit up. “I love bad ideas.”

“Why does that make me even more worried?” He stood in the center of the room, facing away from the door. Flutters filled his stomach. Would it be worse if it failed, or if it worked? “Order of the Battlemage, I come as a challenger. Test me.”

Silence. Was there even anyone left to hear it? Were they already plotting how to strike?

Words lit up on the back wall. English words, bright as the midday sun yet soothing to look at. Despite that, the words lacked even a glimmer of magic, so much so that they were completely invisible to Discern Magic.

The Order of the Battlemage welcomes you, challenger.

Battlemages must master many disciplines.

Tactics

Insight

Evasion

Farsight

Prowess

Excellence is life. Descend, and prove your worth.

Prove his worth—and then what? A tingling jitter spread across his chest. What rewards would a Battlemage temple bestow?

No, he was getting ahead of himself. Whatever it might be, he wasn’t there yet. “It’s in English.”

Cara raised an eyebrow. “Wood Elvish for me.”

An illusion, then—Discern Magic couldn’t see it on the wall because it wasn’t there. Looking around, it wasn’t hard to find the tiny purple ball of magic in the middle of Cara’s forehead. Presumably, he had one of his own, though no way it complemented his eyes so well.

Cara tilted her head and waved her hand in front of his face. “Hello?”

Shit. Stop staring! He jolted and dropped his gaze. It wasn’t like she’d be able to see it, anyway. “Sorry, there’s a…” He pointed to his own forehead. What to call it? “The illusion spell, I guess. Anyway, five disciplines, five tests?”

“Maybe. That last one? Definitely evasion.”

Ted slowly nodded. How many more ways were there for this world to mess with his mind? “Tactics could have been getting into the keep. Insight, finding the way through the portcullis.”

“Right!” She paused and tilted her head. “Prowess has to be combat. What’s farsight?”

Rereading the instructions again and again, Ted’s heart sank. Smooth marble covered the floor. No trap doors, no markings, no enchantments beyond the usual, and instructions to descend. There was only one conclusion. “I have to teleport.”

Cara’s brow furled. “Where?”

He pointed down.

“No way! You’d be on your own. And you can’t see what’s down there! What if it’s solid rock?”

“Farsight. That’s what the test is. Sight beyond sight.”

“You can do that?”

Ted smiled with as much gusto as he could muster. “Not yet. The traps have a detection aspect, though, right?”

“And? That’s an enchantment, not a spell.”

“I’ve seen enough comparisons to convert them.” Possibly.

Her eyebrows pulled together, and she tugged at her top lip. “You’re sure?”

The black hole in his gut said no. He put on a wide smile. “What’s the worst that could happen?” If it did go wrong, death wouldn’t be the end, and maybe he’d get some damned answers.

Her head tilted from side to side a few times before she shrugged. “Leave your pack, at least.”

“Will do. First, though, I need a nice, long look at one of those traps—up close and personal.”