“That wasn’t so bad.” Dovhran let out a long-held deep breath as he collapsed against a wall of the room that the three now found themselves in. “I could do that again…”
“Go back out that door without Faengil’s barrier then if it wasn’t all that bad.” Selian’s voice was cold and menacing. “I’ll wait.”
The changeling froze for a moment at the suggestion but, quickly recovered as he sensed the sardonic tone in her voice.
“At least we made it through in one piece.” Dovhran looked over at Flip’s unconscious body before adding, “well, mostly. Still, this isn’t as bad as I had imagined.”
“That’s the second time you’ve uttered a jinx-able sentiment today, and I don’t have a chunk or cork wood or the mast of a ship to knock on.”
“I thought you elves were supposed to be serene and collected, not paranoid as a drunken sailor.”
Selian leered at the changeling. “Excuse me for being raised among the latter. And I thought changelings were supposed to be the epitome of sympathy and understanding.”
“My sympathy comes after I’ve solved my own problems.”
There was a short pause before both the elf and the changeling let out a very tired laugh. Both were lying on the floor against a wall while Flip’s unconscious body lay between them. For all the flames the wizard had taken as Selian had used him as a shield he seemed mostly untouched. His once colorful and flamboyant replacement robes were now coated with soot and discolored with the touch of flames. Perhaps the most damage of all was sustained by Selian, who had lost a significant amount of her long blond hair to the flames. It was not length that she had lost either, but a rather large patch along the right side of her head around the ear.
“Do you think we should wait for Faengil to wake up before opening the next door?” Dovhran sighed as he stopped laughing.
“Probably not, but I find it unlikely that we’re going to find the same kind of challenge twice in a row. What didn’t kill us before probably won’t the second time… that is the logic I think this was built by at least. There are a great variety of traps here, ones that require dexterity, arcane knowledge, patience, speed, and perception. I would wager we will yet find some kind of test of strength and a test of very specific knowledge… perhaps one of constitution, we may be required to hold our breath for a significant period of time for instance.”
“That sounds likely .” Dovhran muttered. “But they don’t sound like things our wizard would be much help with.”
“Well, if you want to look ahead, be my guest. But I think I need to sit here a bit longer, and someone should keep an eye on Faengil in case something happens.”
Selian patted the ground next to her as she spoke, wincing when she realized how badly her arms had been burnt. With the adrenaline fading she was quickly realizing just how bad her condition was. It had taken a while to hurt, but all of the sudden she felt as though she was on fire all over again. She had some salve tucked away in her travel satchel on her belt, but moving suddenly felt like a very bad idea.
“I think… I think I want to be sure we aren’t on a timer of some sort with the next problem.” Dovhran said. “And I didn’t take any fire, so I should be able to run if I need to.”
“I’ll scream at the top of my lungs if something goes wrong.” Selian let out a strained chuckle as she set herself in a completely laying position on the floor a ways off from Flip.
“Good to know.”
With that, Dovhran stood and made his way down the small corridor of a room they had holed up in and towards the door at the far side. The changeling was cautious at first, but as he approached the door itself he relaxed. There was no sign of traps or locks, and in fact this door looked almost exactly like the last one. He wasn’t careless of course, he gave the doorknob a careful tap before fully gripping it and as he opened the door he leaned away from the opening in case there was some sort of projectile ready for him. But, of course, nothing happened, as seemed to be the pattern that the changeling was expecting. What was inside, however, and what he saw as he peered through the meager gap he had created, genuinely surprised him. And without a word, he was drawn into the door and closed it behind him.
Selian thought this was incredibly suspicious as she watched from the ground, of course, but there had been no indication that anything bad had happened. Even if he had been effected by some sort of enchantment he likely would have made some remark or reacted in some sort of way. But to react completely neutrally, that was something entirely different that the elf did not understand or have the focus to puzzle out. Her priority was to alleviate the pain in her arms as best she could without moving them if possible. The longer she lay there, however, the more she realized that it was entirely impossible to accomplish her goal while stationary.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
After an uncertain number of minutes, fortune smiled upon the elf as Flip began to regain consciousness.
“Faengil, are you awake?”
“I’m… present.” The wizard groaned. “But nauseated.”
Indeed, Flip felt his stomach turn as he attempted to sit up. The taste of bile was close, just down his throat a little, but far enough down that it could be managed without spilling over. His vision was also blurry, though that may have had just as much to do with the dim lighting of the tomb as it did with the spinning of his head.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m not going to dignify that question with a direct answer.”
Flip paused before asking a question of his own. “Are you… o…”
“No.” Selian replied before Flip could finish.
“Where’s the idiot?”
“He went ahead on his own.”
“That was a bad idea.”
“He said as much.”
“Is he dead?”
“If he’s dead he died quietly.” The elf turned to look directly at Flip. “Hey, can you reach my bag for me? I have something to soothe the burns on my arms from carrying your limp carcass to safety, but I can’t move my arms to get it because they’re burned.”
“Use your feet.”
“DOVHRAN!” Selian screamed at the top of her lungs, more of a growl or a shout, but in her mind it was a scream. “I’M DYING!”
It took the changeling eighteen seconds to respond. And that response was an incredibly slow peering through a cracked door to make sure whatever Selian was screaming about was not about to kill him as well. It took him just as long to realize that there was no danger.
“Your voice is very loud for an elf lady.” Flip groaned as he slowly slid his shaky hands over his ears. “Very loud.”
“Why are you screaming if you’re fine?” Dovhran hissed. “What if there are other creatures in this tomb that can hear you?”
“I burned my arms!” Selian growled angrily. “And Faengil can’t help and I can’t reach the burn balm in my bag because my arms are burned!”
Dovhran stepped back in to the room fully and quickly went about locating the balm in Selian’s bag without the need for more shouting. Oddly, at least to Selian—Flip couldn’t have been bothered at that moment—Dovhran seemed cheerful. It was an unsettling and unusually compliant sort of cheerful.
Selian whipped her arms up to grab Dovhran by the neck, enduring the horrible pain as the skin on her arms cracked slightly from the motion.
“How much money did you offer to pay me initially when you hired me for this job?” Selian demanded the answer with her thumb pressed squarely to the center of the changeling’s throat, with one wrong move she would send the digit into his wind pipe and do as much damage as she could muster without a weapon.
“Ah, you think I’m a shapeshifter or something.” Dovhran chuckled, ignoring the force of the grip that was causing his voice to squeak. “I mean, I am. But for the price of ten thousand shackles I expected your eyes to be a bit sharper.”
Selian released her grip and let the changeling apply the balm to her exposed arms. The relief was almost instant.
“What’s got you so happy?”
“Oh, just the room beyond that door. But I’ll let you see for yourself. I doubt you’d believe me if I told you anyway.” Dovhran grinned as he closed the small canister of cream. “This is high quality medicinal balm, by the way. Where did you buy it?”
“I made it.” Selian frowned as she took the canister back. “Not long before we left. I’m no chemist, but I can make salves for burns and plant poisons. They’re more common at sea than you’d think.”
“Fair enough.” Dovhran nodded his head towards Flip “What about him? He’s not burnt is he?”
“No…” Selian rummaged around her bag as she returned the burn ointment and retrieved a small hempen pouch. “But I think this might help his nausea.”
As the elf leaned over to waft the open pouch under Flip’s nose, the quaking of the wizard’s body subsided.
“What is that?” Flip gasped in alarm. “What is that!”
Selian frowned. “Don’t ask what’s in it, I can’t tell you. Just be grateful that you don’t feel sick to your stomach anymore.”
“Oh… I don’t.” Flip paused. “I feel fine.”
“Does overusing your magic frequently make you motion sick?” Selian raised an eyebrow. Shewas contemplating giving him the smelling pouch as a gift if it was something he would be using more than she did.
“I have no clue.” Flip took a deep breath. “It’s only ever happened twice.”
There was an unorchestrated chorus of silence at Flip’s proclamation. Both Selian and Dovhran mumbled something unintelligible. Flip understood a little bit of something about age in both of their words, but as he attempted to decipher what they were saying he only came up more confused.
“Twice before right now, right?” Dovhran asked, trying to lead Flip to agreement.
“No. Twice… including just now.”
“I’m afraid to ask anything else about your history with magic…” Selian muttered. “Because I feel like if I ask you how many times you’ve used magic in your life you’ll have an answer ready and it will be less than a hundred.”
Flip was about to respond that he had used a spell beyond the power of a basic incantation a total one hundred and eighty-five times, thank you very much, when he realized that Selian hadn’t properly asked a question, and if she had his ready answer was far from the sort she wanted.
“Thank you for the cure.” Flip pushed the elf’s hand back towards her and stood, shakily at first but quickly regaining strength. “Shouldn’t we be moving on now? Isn’t the next room safe?”
“Oh, its more than safe, my dear wizard. It’s your wildest dream come true.” Dovhran let off a wicked smile and gave a bowing gesture towards the door behind him as though he were a manservant welcoming home the master of the house. “I think you’ll both be quite happy with what we’ve uncovered.”