Teleporting up to the battlements? Easy.
Tying a rope around a merlon? Simple enough.
Rappelling down the inside wall? Not so hard.
Holding himself just above a deadly trap while studying it? Utterly exhausting.
Stamina: 43/230
The burning in Ted’s arms rose higher and higher, dragging his attention away from the majestic weavings of the magical traps. He couldn’t hold much longer.
He pictured the room, held the rope tight with his right hand, and cast with his left. “Raka-fa!”
Blue swirls wiped away the stone wall. Wooden panels appeared, and the marble floor rushed up to meet him.
“Ow.” Pain swelled in his butt. He pulled himself to his feet and rubbed at it. “Exactly the same spot as last time.”
Cara looked up from her wood carving with a wry smile. “And the time before?”
Ted grunted and resisted the urge to glower back at her. It would only encourage her. “I’d like to see you try casting a portal spell half-way down a wall.”
She raised her eyebrow and smirked. “I’d just climb up the rope.”
Yeah, of course she would. He shrugged. There wasn’t any winning that one. “I have what I need, anyway.”
“Awesome!” She jumped to her feet and clapped her hands together. “Let’s see if it works.”
Ted’s teeth tugged at his bottom lip. “This might take a while.”
How hard could adapting an Enchantment aspect be?
Very, as it turned out. Time trickled by, and still the model he’d built up in his mind of the traps refused to give up its secrets, hidden as they were amongst a sea of differences. Even the parts he recognized were very different from their spell counterparts.
Combined with the complexity of the entire system, it was like finding a needle in a stack of needles, without knowing which needle you were looking for.
“Are you done yet?” Cara asked, not even looking up her from her wood carving.
“Working on it.”
Ted frowned, realizing that he was coming at it the wrong way. What he needed was a simpler test case, one with less moving parts, so to speak. As nasty as it had been to acquire, the wand that had neutralized Gramok was a perfect reference. Powerful, but simple enough to compare its Hold aspect to the spell version.
That the wand’s Hold effect was linked to a Telepathy rather than Force aspect raised questions, suggesting possibilities that made Ted’s heart race.
He bit his lip and sighed. One problem at a time. If there was a way, it would need more time and study than he could afford right now, but he made a mental note to come back to it.
Rather than running together into a tight, bundled mass like in the trap, the few aspects in the wand were clearly delineated. Comparing the Hold aspect with its spell counterpart was much simpler, but still bordered on the impossible.
Even pushing Discern Magic to the limit, the internals of magical aspects were vastly more intricate than the threads that connected them together. Butterflies fluttered in Ted’s chest. No matter how complex, there had to be a structure to them, a pattern—and he’d find it.
He kept telling himself that, even as idea after idea failed. Each method he could think of to convert the Hold enchantment into a Hold spell fell apart when applied to the aspects in the traps.
Blood pounded in his ears. Why didn’t this work?
He growled and paced around the room, cursing the stupid world over and over in his mind.
Cara stood in the door way, sunlight catching her as she waved and smiled at him. “Hey.”
Ted’s fist clenched, but he caught the concern in her eyes, almost like she cared. Nice, long breaths. The thumping in his chest slowed and that all-consuming pressure eased. “Hey. How’s Gramok doing?”
“He looks fine.” She looked out across the courtyard and tilted her head. “How much food did he bring?”
“More to the point, when’s he going to share it?”
Their eyes met, and they shared a chuckle. Not a chance.
Ted gave her a nod and turned his attention back to his work. If he couldn’t find a transformation that converted between enchantments and spells, perhaps a more modular approach would work. Looking deeper at the other spell aspects he’d learned, they themselves were made up from smaller parts that worked much like functions.
Warm tingling filled Ted’s chest, and he smiled to himself. There were minor variations, but many of the functions were repeated again and again across spells and enchantments. Building aspects from scratch wouldn’t be possible anytime soon, but merely knowing how it could be done pointed him in the right direction.
Picking out each of the functions from the aspects he knew was easy enough, now he knew what he was looking for. They didn’t link together as cleanly as well written code, but there was a logical division there, one that he could follow.
A quiver tugged at Ted’s stomach. Recalling the spell aspects, and now their smaller parts as well, was too easy. He’d always had an excellent memory for systems, sure, but this was well into savant-level accuracy.
If skills were improving his memory, what else were they affecting? He gritted his teeth, begrudgingly grateful for the assistance. Without it, complex Spellcrafting would be next to impossible.
He suppressed a chuckle. As applicable as it was, creating magical spells wasn’t exactly why he’d signed up for the Computer Science program back on Earth.
Earth. His shoulders slumped again. What did people there think? Would anyone but Nathan have even noticed? How long before Mom did?
A knot twisted in his gut. All those years she’d sworn Dad was out there somewhere, and he’d told her to get a grip.
Fingernails bit into his palms. He sighed and unclenched his fists. He hadn’t made her reach for the bottle.
A slender arm wrapped around his shoulder. He jolted upright, his hand closed around his sword grip.
“Hey.” Cara’s eyes were soft, her voice softer still. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”
The tremors slowed. His heart kept pounding. He let go of the hilt and turned away. “Sorry. I… I’m fine. I’m fine.”
She patted his back and nodded. “You are. I’m here if you need me.”
Slowly, so very slowly, that crushing pressured ebbed away, fading into the background. “Thank you,” he said, so quiet he wasn’t even sure he said it.
Dismissing her with a nod, he went back to solving the problem before him, the one that really mattered. Back to picking out the key functions from the traps. Back to discerning which pieces were needed and which could be tossed aside.
Eventually, just as he knew it would, the pieces of the Sight effect held together in his mind. “Got it!”
Spellcrafting skill increased 5 → 6!
For creating a spell effect from segments, you are awarded the trait Aspect Crafter. Aspects and segments created from scratch can be memorized automatically.
Segments? A decent enough name for them, and more accurate than functions. It was good to have confirmation that the segments themselves could be created from scratch too, even if doing so safely was probably a long way off.
Cara smiled up at him, her carving knife glinting with the glow of the Light orb she was working from. “Awesome!”
“I got another trait, too.”
“Another one?” Her jaw hung open.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“Maybe they’re less rare for Spellcrafters? I’ll fill you in later.”
“You better!” She grinned, hopped to her feet, and held out her hand. “High five?”
He shook his head. Too early for that. The segments held together, but even the shittiest of code could compile. That didn’t mean it would work. “After I test it?”
“Deal!” She bounced from foot to foot, shuffling back out of the way. “Test, test, test!”
The spell still needed crafting, but first, the perk point needed spending. He already had two in Power and Stability plus one in Efficiency—where to put the next?
Another point in Efficiency was tempting. In theory, each point added more value, but only once you ran out of mana. In quick fights or without time pressure, it would be a wasted point.
Durable looked tempting as well. Even if it didn’t help instant effects like Teleport or Ignite, 15% was a whole lot nicer than 4.5% to potency. When Cara’s Absorb had dropped running through the traps…
A pit formed in his stomach. That had been way too close.
Besides, even when the extra time wasn’t needed, he could reduce the base duration, freeing up more stability and mana for extra potency, anyway. With how useful spells like Absorb were, Durable was the right choice.
“Test, test, test!”
Ted sighed. Easy for her to say. At least creating the spell would be quick. After taking it apart and putting it together so many times, he knew Sight’s requirements back to front.
Using minimal mana and duration, he crafted the Telepathy/Target/Sight spell. Warmth tingled in his chest as it held together first time. “Let’s do this.”
He buffed them both with Absorb and retreated to the far corner of the room. With his eyes closed, he pictured a point in the air a foot ahead.
A gentle tease at his mana was all it needed to power the spell. Using careful, mirrored hand motions, he weaved it in the air and whispered, “Enmokajona!”
Brown and gray blurs flashed by, and the spell was over in an instant.
Cara bounded toward him. “Do you see anything? Did it work?”
“It worked.” Ted crafted a new version with higher potency and duration. “Let’s see what’s underground.
He paused, wondering how to focus on a place he’d never seen before. Would merely thinking a direction be enough?
Only one way to find out. At least Sight wasn’t going to splice him with rock if it went wrong.
This was an orc temple, so the ceiling below had to be at least nine feet high. That was a good distance to start. Nine feet down. He closed his eyes and cast the spell.
Nine feet down. “Enmokajona!”
Flickering red light filled his mind’s eye. A torch. Cobblestone walls. Marble floor. A stone ceiling, very close, distorted like looking through a fishbowl lens.
He turned his head—the vision moved with it, and his stomach churned. The distance from each object flickered back and forth. Needle stabs drove into his temples.
Skewed perspective, monocular vision, sight without eyes. Yeah, this would take some getting used to.
“What do you see?”
“A stone room. Small. Four exits, open doorways in the middle of each wall.” His sense of depth settled down, and the pain in his temples eased. “No enemies I can see.”
“Traps?”
Weight crushed down upon his chest. Discern Magic gave him nothing. “No idea. The spell only picks up light, not magic.”
“You’ll be fine.” She took his hand in hers and squeezed. “Take care.”
“I will.” Ted upgraded several of his spells to take advantage of Durable and buffed up.
Armor, Absorb, and a weaker but longer duration Heal. It probably wasn’t a trap, but if it was, he’d be ready.
“See you soon.” He cast Farsight first, creating an image of his destination in his mind. Thirteen feet down. “Enmokajona!”
Pain pricked at his temples as he looked around. Still no visible threats. It was a good target destination, midway between ceiling and floor, with ample room to the side. His chest tightened, and he started the Teleport spell.
Thirteen feet down. “Raka-fa!” His breath caught in his throat.
The world lurched. His Farsight went black. Gravity tugged down, his feet hit the floor, and he stumbled. Breath rushed out of his lungs, and cold, stale air replaced it.
An icy chill bit at his skin, but there were no explosions, no battlemages jumping out, no traps sending him back to Death.
All good so far.
In the middle of the room stood a metal pole holding a torch. Above it flickered a magical orange-red flame, illuminating the room but not heating it. The torch itself was pointless, purely decorative.
Was it? Besides the torch and its holder, the room was empty. Each of the four corridors led away to similar rooms, complete with their own magical torches. There weren’t any other decorations, so why bother with a torch?
Ted shrugged. Orc battlemage interior design wasn’t the most pressing issue. There were four passages—which one to start with?
Before he could decide, a raspy voice echoed through the halls. “Prepare to be tested.”
Adrenaline surged. Ted drew his falchion and dropped into a wide stance. He’d pass their test of prowess.
His heart raced. Which way would they come from?
He checked each passage in rapid succession. Without Cara, he’d have to watch his own back.
An orc! Right in front of him, axe raised.
Ted lunged and swung.
His blade passed straight through without resistance. Blood pounded in his ears.
A ghost? The orc smiled and shimmered away. Not a ghost, an illusion.
The tightness in Ted’s chest loosened a few notches. Not ideal, but better than ghosts.
That was too easy to be the test. He bit at his lip. That was a warning of what was to come.
No more had appeared yet, but he wasn’t waiting around for them to show up. He gripped his sword tight and picked a corridor at random.
Aside from having only three doorways, the next room was identical. Both the new corridors led to similar rooms. How far did these go? It would be all too easy to get turned around and lost in them. Farsight and Teleport could get him out, but both required time, mana, and closing his eyes.
Could he mark his route? There weren’t any Cleaning enchantments on the walls, but his pack was above with Cara. Retreating from a test of prowess to get writing material? That had to be an automatic failure.
The torch! He sheathed his sword and took it. The magical light kept flickering where it was, completely unaffected, but the torch itself was real and unused. Some soot or charcoal would be more than enough.
“Enkir!”
The torch ignited. It burned easily, giving off a wispy acrid smoke. How old was it? How long had it been here, a pointless decoration?
Unless this was its purpose. There wasn’t anything else decorative in the room.
A few stomps put out the torch, leaving it coated in a black residue. A crude writing instrument, but enough. He marked the passage he’d come through with a one and proceeded down the next, keeping to the same direction.
Each room was the same, varying only in the number of exits. He marked each doorway and corridor he passed, incrementing the number with every room. The twentieth room had four doorways, the furthest marked by a one. The torch in the room beyond was gone.
Shit. He hadn’t gotten turned around, he was sure of that. Illusions? Portals? His jaw clenched shut. He hadn’t seen any magic, but here he was. Either there were hidden portals, Illusion magic at play, or the maze simply didn't play by Euclidean geometry's rules.
Movement flittered at the edge of his vision. Orcs wielding axes, slowly advancing up one of the corridors and groaning loudly. More orcs advanced up the second, third, and fourth. They filled every corridor, advancing at a slow but unyielding pace.
Were any of them real? His sword had gone straight through the first illusion and dissipated it. A rapid-cast, low potency Blastbolt might do the same.
“Ronka!” The bolt shattered a dozen illusory orcs and burst against the wall behind.
“Ronka! Ronka! Ronka!” The same happened in the three other corridors.
More orcs pushed up behind them. How many were there? His heart sank. There didn’t have to be a limit to the number of illusions, unlike his mana. Staying put wasn’t an option.
He dropped the torch, drew his sword, and charged. “Ronka! Ronka! Ronka!”
Illusion after illusion disintegrated under the pitifully weak spell, but even more advanced from the corridors around the new room. He needed a new plan.
What did he know about illusions? His Discern Magic showed nothing, but Ted wasn’t sure he could tell the difference between nothing and no magic.
He sniffed the air. No scent. Could that help?
He saw them. He heard them. They affected specific senses. He needed to see without sight. The weight on his chest lifted. He sheathed his sword, imagined a point a foot above his head, and cast Farsight. “Enmokajona!”
He kept his eyes open, watching both scenes at once. Tingling discomfort swelled behind his eyes, but he couldn’t afford to miss anything.
The Farsight spell showed three empty corridors, and a fourth empty but for an ambling skeleton. An orc’s stature, but no longer anything but bone and the axe slung over its shoulder.
Skeleton
Level: 9
HP: 535/535
Stamina: 278/380
Status: Undead
Ted’s heart leaped into his throat. The skeleton had as many hit points as a level 40 gorilla.
Why was its stamina going down?
Ted chuckled. This was its version of running, slower than even his walking speed. All its stats were probably dumped into Strength and Endurance.
Strength—the stat that made physical hits hurt. Slow or not, getting hit by that axe would hurt.
A chill ran down his back. He was stuck in a maze, and no doubt there were more of them out there.
Blasting it down would leave one less enemy, but also cost a whole lot of mana. He shook his head. Not until he knew what he was up against.
He cast Farsight down one of the corridors. The next room was clear. He sprinted through a crowd of orcs, each one dissolving away in his wake.
Three doorways, lots of illusory orcs. Another real skeleton rounded the corner of the far passage. Two out of three ways blocked. Would they be more vulnerable to Fire? Lightning? What was best against animated bones?
He swallowed and stilled himself. Who knew how many skeletons there were? Pure brawn wasn’t the answer. The message had mentioned five disciplines a battlemage needed—tactics, insight, evasion, farsight, and prowess.
Was this a test of all five? Didn’t Sun Tzu say the best victory was without fighting? Whatever the final objective here was, it wasn’t the skeletons sprinting toward him at a snail’s pace.
Never get caught without stamina. Ted smiled. Without stamina, anyone was a sitting duck.
***
1,350 XP received!
The last of the three skeletons crumbled to dust without having taken a single swing. Walking ahead of them while they ran themselves into helplessness was cheesy, but better than getting his head chopped off.
An amulet glinted in the bone dust from the last one. He nudged it out of the pile and kneeled on the marble floor. A Telepathy enchantment of some kind was woven into the amulet. One of the aspects triggered another, but how, beyond that it wasn't sight related, was a complete mystery.
Was this a cursed item, a trap, or a clue? There was little mana in it, but how much power would it take to mess with his mind? There was far too much of that going around already.
He kneeled down further, coming closer without touching it, and studied it closely. It had to do something.
Several segments in the trigger and effect aspects were strikingly similar to those in the Alert spell. Alert triggered off of contact. Was this the same?
None of the segments connected outside the amulet the way Alert did. Not an alarm, then. There was an internal connection, though. No, not internal—it resembled the contact trigger but in reverse.
Information transference through touch. A message? A greeting? A warning? Or just a way to give orders to the skeletons? They had clearly been mindless automatons, both figuratively and literally missing brains.
One way to find out for sure. He buffed himself up, took a deep breath, and tentatively took the amulet.
An image appeared in his mind. A circular room. A cave? Too regular to be natural. Twenty-five robed and hooded figures in a ring. One stepped forward.
A diagram. The temple. The courtyard. The wooden room. The stone room below it. A cave, deeper still. Distances: 320 yards down, 90 yards forward, 120 yards to the left.
A message. Your duel awaits.